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glitteryhellhole · 4 years ago

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alright lets do this

here we go

Title: The Tent Fandom: Z nation Pairing: 10K x female reader Word count: approx 3k Rating: 18 Description: fluffy smut with awkward cinnamon roll 10K

A gas station. A real life, untouched gas station. Apart from the bloody handprints smeared on the concrete walls.

It didn't take long to sweep and secure the area, then fill up the truck and the reserve cannisters. Afterwards Warren gestured with her gun to the convenience store. “Look for anything useful.”

The place had been untouched since day one. Mummified hot dogs still sitting on a rack. The register hanging open- perhaps in the beginning some people had looted cash, but it didn't take long to realise money didn't mean anything anymore.

You shoved bottles of water and packets of candy into your rucksack before following Addy's gaze to the toiletries shelf. Pads and tampons, little travel-sized bodywashes, an actual toothbrush.

“It's a whole new kind of mercy,” she whistled.

You picked up the first aid kit and the two crushed boxes of painkillers, turning to ask Doc if they'd be any good- and found him and Murphy kneeling on the counter, pulling away the plastic panel which guarded the cigarettes.

Priorities, huh.

Loaded up, you looked around you. Warren was on watch so 10K had let his guard down for once and was poking at the faded magazines. You saw his pink lips move as he mouthed the titles to himself. Something familiar caught his eye, probably the one with guns all over, and he reached up- and the whole top shelf came tumbling down. Suddenly 10K was surrounded by glossy double-page spreads of unnaturally bronzed and perky breasts and butts.

He froze like an animal in a trap.

“Found what you're looking for?” Doc's voice was loud and his arms were cradling an impressive quantity of alcohol. “There's a lot of generic lesbians, over forties, asian fetish, but for a beginner I'd recommend-”

The rest of his sentence was drowned out by a crash as 10K backed rapidly out of the shop, cheeks ablaze, taking down a stand of air fresheners and sending sunglasses skittering across the floor in every direction.

The rest of you laughed, for the first time in a while. Back in the truck and passing round bags of only-slightly-stale chips, you all agreed that the gas station was your best find in quite some time.

Except perhaps for the tent.

A little way back, a stranded family had been incredibly grateful for a tow out of the ditch, and had gifted you their spare tent. No ordinary camping gear, this thing was foil-lined and had a built in waterproof, cushioned underlayer. On an especially hot night you'd probably want it to yourself but the rest of the time it comfortably housed two people, keeping in the heat. You'd been taking turns each night, with priority to the injured, meaning that every morning there was at least one person who was fully rested and recharged. Ideal when every day was a battle for survival.

Of course, there was one other advantage to the tent. Privacy. Human needs didn't really get talked about in this un-human world, and whatever got overheard in the night would also go unspoken.

It was nearing dusk and you were pulling over to make camp. “Who's turn in the tent?” Murphy called out as he threw himself down on the ground. “Dibs.”

Warren, who was unloading a heavy bag, gave him a kick in the side. “Get up and help. I don't think 10K's had a turn yet.”

“Neither's she.” He nodded at you.

“Settled then.”

Murphy sniggered.

Since there was plenty of water, there was a rare chance to wash up a bit. Ladies first while the men stood watch with their backs turned, and then vice versa. Nowhere near to having a hot shower in privacy, but it was something. You noticed that 10K didn't bother putting his shirt back on afterwards as he squatted by the fire cleaning his weapons, a cigarette dangling from his mouth.

How could somebody so skinny be so strong? Must be the result of life outdoors.

He raised an eyebrow and you realised you were staring. Oops.

“Here.” Somebody passed you a can of cheap beer that had come from the store along with the snacks and cigarettes. It was almost like being at a camp-out. The beer was gross but it gave you a nice warm feeling in your chest, and the idea of lying down somewhere soft started to seem quite appealing, so you said your goodnights and retreated into the tent.

You weren't sure how long it was until you were joined, perhaps you'd started to drift off- the sound of the zip jolted you back to your senses as 10K flopped unceremoniously into the tent, stretching out next to you. “Beer makes shoelaces hard.” He complained.

You giggled and sat up to help. “When was the last time you slept without shoes on?”

“Probably before my voice broke.” He scratched his head while watching you remove his boots and then said, “I'm not good at talking, especially to girls, but you don't scare me.”

“Thanks for the compliment, I think?” You laid back down, closing your eyes and pulling your blanket over you. There was silence for a minute but it was oddly comfortable, the security of a warm person breathing next to you.

“What was your first word?” You asked into the silence. “I bet it was gun.”

“Actually it was primrose.”

“Huh?”

“My momma's favourite flower.” He rolled over onto his stomach, closing the gap between you, and rested his cheek on his folded arms. “I was six. Doctor said I wasn't learning but I was paying attention to everything. She used to take me to the library in town to look at all sorts of books, that where we learned to sign.”

You couldn't help but ask. “When did she...?”

“When I was nine. Pops wanted me to try and be a normal kid but once she'd gone he didn't want anything to do with the rest of the world and stopped sending me to school.”

“I'm sorry.”

“It's ok.” He wriggled a little to get more comfortable. “Can you talk for a bit now?”

So you talked about your own parents, and your hometown, and it surely wasn't very interesting but 10K watched you intently as he sobered up, studying your face, and you hoped you weren't blushing. After a while you came to a natural conclusion in your story and realised that his fingers were twitching, as though he were nervous.

What's up?” you asked softly.

He blinked slowly. “Ain't always easy to tell when you're supposed to say stuff and when you're not.”

Unsure what to expect, you gave him an encouraging nod.

“Can I... touch your hair?”

Your heart started to beat a little fast and you nodded again. 10K's fingers reached out timidly to feel you hair, twisting strands and brushing them away from your face.

You hadn't felt human touch in so long, and you couldn't help but rest your head on his arm as he stroked. The pair of you seemed to breathe in unison. It was almost peaceful.

Almost. Apart from the little sparks of electricity that seemed to fizzle into life where your skin touched his.

Could he feel it too? It didn't seem so. There he was growing more and more serene, while you were warming up in a way that had nothing to do with the insulated tent.

“Um...” You fidgeted awkwardly, trying to choose the right words. “10K? You know why they were giggling right?”

“Uh-huh.” His eyes were closed. “People do stuff in the tent. Its pretty obviously I've never... y'know.”

“Does it bother you?”

“A bit, but its not like I can go meet a girl and ask her Pops if I can take her to the barn dance.”

You couldn't help but laugh a little. “I mean the teasing.”

“Oh.” He blushed slightly as he opened his eyes to look at you. “I get why, you're near my age and you're pretty. Any guy would be lucky to date you.”

Oh indeed. Maybe he did feel it then.

“You could...” You bit your lip and steeled yourself. “You could pretend that you were.”

He sat bolt upright, making you jump, and a wide grin spread across his face. “I could ask you on a picnic, at my favourite place in the woods.” His words were tumbling out fast from nervous excitement. “Make nice bread, Mom's special recipe with the dried fruit. And we could talk like we did earlier and I could pick you flowers and then I could kiss you.”

His lips were clumsy as they first met yours, but eager, and didn't take long to find a groove. You sighed and leaned in, one hand reaching up into his hair, and-

A single gunshot cracked through the air.

In an instant 10K was lurching for the tent entrance where his gun was propped. You reached for your shoes, panic rising in your chest.

“False alarm.” Doc's voice came from outside. “Nothing to worry about. Hey, you okay in there kid? Need me to give ya a quick pep talk on anything?”

“I'm good.” He zipped the flap back up then turned back to you. “Actually do you think maybe I should? I don't really know what to do.”

You couldn't help but laugh again. He was way too innocent for someone so good-looking.

You put and hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat. “Just do what feels natural.”

“Okay.” He gave you another wide grin, showing those adorably crooked teeth, and then practically launched himself at you, so you landed on your back and he was on top of you, lips moulding to the shape of yours. You gasped for air and 10K made an apologetic sound without pausing the kiss, propping himself up on one elbow so that you could breathe.

His hand rested on your stomach, fingers still for a moment before balling up your shirt and gently navigating the exposed skin. Tentative. Like soothing a spooked animal.

You reached your hand up to touch his shoulders, feeling hard muscle under surprisingly soft skin. Tracing his collarbones and around the back of his neck. He shivered and broke the kiss, and you saw his tongue dart out to wet his lips.

“Maybe I could take your shirt off too.” He mumbled. In answer you sat up and held your arms above your head. 10K pulled your shirt over your head- sending the little lamp tied to the tent roof swinging- then looked confused as his thumb hooked into the shoulder strap of your sports bra. You kind of wished you'd been wearing something nicer for this occasion, but you'd dressed for practicality before hitting the road.

“Here. Let me.” You wriggled out of the bra, trying not to elbow him in the process.

“Wowee.” 10K let out a whistle. “You look even better without clothes on. Why would anyone want to look at random pictures?”

It seemed like he could have sat there and stared forever, but you didn't have forever, and so you pulled him in to kiss again. He trailed his lips across your face and on to your neck, one arm supporting you from behind and the other hand landing on your chest, squeezing experimentally.

“Not so hard,” you gasped.

“Sorry. They're squishier than I expected.” He let out a humming noise into the crook of your neck as his fingers found a hard nipple and brushed back and forth.

You dipped your head down too, lightly touching your teeth to his throat. A low growl escaped and he pushed you back down, pressing his body close to yours, and you could feel his eager hardness against your hip.

10K tried the same move, nipping at the skin under your ear. His breathing was very shallow and rapid as he licked and sucked experimentally, moving down over your breasts.

“You taste good. But not in a zombie way.”

Your hands rested on his hips, fingers splaying out to softly squeeze his ass and then dipping below the loose waistband.

“Oh, wait.” He rolled off you to shed a pile of concealed knives and the little sharp discs that he used in the sling shot.

“What else are you hiding down there?” You smirked. For a moment he turned beetroot red and covered his crotch with his hands, but then met your smile with one of his own.

“Just means I like you and I like this.” He shrugged. “Do you-”

“Mmhmm.” You reached out to ease his trouser buttons undone, fumbling slightly, but you weren't nervous. It just felt right with him. “I like you. And I like this.”

He groaned softly as the restriction on his hardness eased and grabbed you for another kiss, this time hungry and slightly sloppy. 10K's fingers found the fastening of your own jeans and made quick work, tugging them down to your knees. Then he paused for a moment, putting a finger to your lips.

There was no noise from outside.

“We're good.” With a bit of awkward shuffling, you both shed your trousers and then looked at each other.

“We probably shouldn't go all the way,” you said almost reluctantly. “No protection and all that. But there's still stuff-”

“Anything.” 10K blurted out without a second's pause. “Everything. I'll do whatever you want. But not what you don't want.” His tongue darted out to wet his lips again as he stared at you earnestly.

You felt a shiver travel down your spine. Nobody had ever looked at you quite like that before. Not just lust but something deeper, as though he was seeing through your skin and right inside you.

“Come here,” he whispered huskily, grabbing your waist and pulling you onto his lap. You sighed into the kiss and slowly moved your hips, letting your centre rub against his as you straddled him, tangling fingers in his messy hair.

10K moaned something that sounded like “shucks” and you couldn't help but snort. What would it take to make him swear? You dug your nails in a little, catching his lip between your teeth.

“Want to touch you.” He moaned, gripping your hips. “Want you to touch me.”

You trailed your hand from his cheek all the way down to cup the pronounced bulge in his boxers and his eyes rolled back in his skull, but then he visibly shook himself and swatted your hand away. “Ladies first.” The hand slid a little clumsily down into your knickers.

You closed your eyes and rested your forehead against 10K's, feeling how hot his skin was. His curious fingertips traced your labia and in between.

“It's wet.” He sounded surpised, and brought a thumb to his mouth to taste.

“That's a good thing.” You felt a little self-conscious as you explained, watching him suck his thumb. “It means I'm, you know, turned on.”

“Show me how to make it feel good,” he murmured, lifting you off his lap and laying you back down before tugging your knickers all the way down and spreading your legs.

You took his hand in yours and guided him, showing him your clit. His marksman fingertips quickly picked it up and he kissed you again as he touched you. “Am I doing it right?”

“Yeah you're- oh, yeah thats good.” Your voice was high-pitched and breathy. 10K made a satisfied “hmph” and nuzzled into your neck. He smelled of safety. Less dirt and blood than usual, traces of soap, whatever he was using for hair gel, engine oil. Sweat but not in the just-been-running-and-fighting way, in the musky hormonal way.

The feeling swelling inside you was something you hadn't experienced, hadn't even thought about, in a long time. But here and now it was growing, consuming, and you couldn't imagine anything other than his touch, his hot breath on your cheek.

“Hey.” 10K's voice was husky again. “You need something else?”

You became aware that your hips were twitching. “A bit faster maybe?”

A moan escaped your lips as he obliged, and 10K grinned. “That's hot.” Then he cocked his head to one side, raising his eyebrows. “I assume girls can- y'know-”

“It looks a bit different but yes.” You were gasping now as you spoke, chest rising and falling.

“Do it for me.” He murmured, watching you as though hypnotised and biting his lip. His words and his gaze loosened the coiled spring that was weighing down your abdomen and the endorphins came rushing as you climaxed.

“Shh.” He pressed his mouth to yours and swallowed your moan, pressing his fingers harder as you moved beneath him until it became almost too much. “Do you want them to hear us?”

You shook your head, trying to control your breathing.

“Maybe you do.” He raised an eyebrow again as his fingers finally slowed to a halt. “I kinda do. So they all know what I just did to you.”

“Do you want your turn or not?”

That shut him up. He glanced down and you followed his gaze. He was still very much erect, and there was now a distinct wet patch where he'd leaked a little in excitement.

You pushed 10K onto his back and settled yourself next to him. “Let me know if something's not ok,” you told him. “I won't do anything you don't want.”

He nodded and closed his eyes. He flinched a little as you pulled his boxers down but then his face relaxed and his lips parted as you touched him.

“Have you done this to yourself?” You asked. “So you know what you like.”

He nodded, looking somewhat bashful. “A few times. But this is different. Better.”

It was your turn to grin as your fingers circled his erection and found a rhythm. 10K's head tilted back and the smallest of high-pitched noises escaped his open mouth. You lowered your lips to his exposed neck and sucked gently at the skin. There was a red mark when you pulled away.

“Mmmph.” He rasped through gritted teeth. “Again.”

“It'll leave a bruise.”

“Don't care.”

You began to create a trail of little hickeys down his throat and across his collarbones as you continued to stroke, and his tiny whimpers grew more frequent. You knew it wouldn't be long.

10K was holding onto you tightly, nails digging in, droplets of sweat visible on his forehead. “I think I'm gonna- ahh....” He seemed to lose the ability to speak as you attacked his neck again, eyes rolling back. A few moments later, his hips bucked and you could feel hot sticky warmth coat your fingers.

“Fuuuuuuuuuuck.”

So he did swear after all.

You kissed him again, and then looked down. “Um, got anything to clean up with?”

Still breathing heavily, 10K sat up and reached for his trousers, pulling a bandana out of one of the many pockets. “It's my least favourite. I'll burn it.”

Like the gentleman he'd been raised to be, he wiped your hand off first before tending to himself, then tossed the soiled cloth out of the way and pulled you close. You rested your head on his chest. You'd heard the term 'afterglow' but never really thought that it was a thing; it apparently was. The chemicals your brain was releasing and the protective hold of his arms made you want to laugh, and cry, and drift off to sleep, and run a mile, all at once.

Just for a moment, there was no apocalypse. There was only you and him and the little lamp above your heads.

It was 10K who broke the spell. “I need to pee.” he said apologetically. “Like, real bad.”

You laughed at the face he was pulling and threw his trousers at him. 10K slithered with some difficulty into them, kicking the side of the tent, and then stumbled outside.

You realised how cold it was now and reached for your own clothes. As footsteps indicated 10K's return, you could have sworn you heard the sound of a high-five.

“What was that?” You demanded as he re-entered the tent.

“Never mind.” He grabbed the blanket and laid it over you.”I want to do that again. But we should probably get some sleep.”

“The whole point of the tent is to get proper rest right?” You scooted closer as he laid down, offering the blanket, but he refused, tucking it round you and then wrapping his arms round too so you were tightly cocooned against his side.

“Yeah. Sure.”

>>>>>Thanks for reading! This is the first fanfic i’ve done in literally years. Open to feedback and even perhaps requests :) PS i am v english so I apologise to any Americans insulted by my attempts at your words

#z nation #10k #ten thousand #10k x reader #10k imagine #z nation fic #tommy 10K #10kxreader

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moonbaby26 · 4 years ago

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Title: Telling the Truth

Pairing: Peter Maximoff x Reader, but also Magneto and Peter father/son interaction!

Summary: Continuation from previous chapter. Set during X-Men: Age of Apocalypse, you and the others finally defeat Apocalypse, just to end up stranded together until a way home can be devised. During the wait, you get to clear up some things with Peter on your feelings for him. Yet all goes sideways when Peter finally works up the courage to tell Magneto the truth about being his son.

Notes: For those that know the movies by heart, I made some more changes closer to the comics obviously. You’ll see.

Warnings: Some cursing, especially during the impromptu therapy session of Magneto and Peter unleashing their emotional baggage.

Chapters: Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Taglist: @drikawinchester , @n0obmaster69 , @alexloveskili , @what-a-silver-lining , @bluesprings18 , @weakmoony-stuff , @slytherinsi-mp , @wintwrsoldiwr , @tommy-braccoli , @amourtentiaa

Peter Maximoff x Reader Masterlist

—————————

You didn’t know what you felt anymore. In a way it was like being outside of yourself. Just watching from somewhere far away even as you were pouring every ounce of strength you had left into your hands, blasting Apocalypse’s shield over and over.

You were trying to cause even the slightest, tangible bit of damage to him, just as Magneto was, just as Scott was. And yet, even with the three of you giving all you had, the monster had already gathered himself up again. With just the movement of one hand, he’d thrown Hank violently to the side when Beast had gotten too close while trying to help you all.

And only moments after Hank’s unconscious body had come to rest, Scott had faltered as well. In exhaustion, he’d finally had to close his eyes, pulling his glasses back down as he’d staggered backward. Then with another flick of the wrist, Apocalypse had all too easily slammed the boy into a building, the wall he hit then swelling out to cover and encase him like some living horror.

You could still hear Scott screaming even as you realized Apocalypse had now turned his attention towards you. With his every step closer, that numbness grew within you. You were too weak to fly away now, after all the energy you’d thrown at him, you were barely still standing.

But you could see the irritation in his expression. It was obvious that he couldn’t understand your loyalty to one another. Why any of you would be fighting this hard, just to die.

He kept reusing the same tricks, but they were effective. As the earth shot up around you like tendrils on a vine, you couldn’t break free. As quick and flexible as it was, it only felt like concrete wrapping all around you. It pinned your arms to your sides and wrapped around your legs, chest, and throat.

With a clenching of Apocalypse’s fist, it all drew tighter. And when your energy field finally gave out, the last of your shielding went away with it. As that light faded, the pain of being slowly crushed exploded through you. But you couldn’t scream when you couldn’t even breathe.

Apocalypse would have Xavier. That was all he wanted, then outright ignoring the straining of Magneto in the sky above him, Erik desperately trying to still do anything on his own now.

But as your sight blurred and your senses faded, it was the most surreal thing, you could still recognize Jean’s silhouette as she also moved out into midair.

Yet it wasn’t her, at least not as you knew her. Somehow that thought had still floated through your dying mind, before the world exploded all over again.

Even without being powered up, you could feel that surge. Like a pressure wave of pure, raw force. It seared across everything, hot and burning. But like a warm fire, for those far enough from the center, it only revitalized them. Hank was awakened suddenly, soon enough breaking the pieces that held you and giving you a chance to breathe again before he ran on all fours to also free Scott.

And yet for Apocalypse, someone far too close to that center, and the real target of Jean’s fury, the only option was to burn.

You were on your knees as you still tried to catch your breath, but you all knew opportunity when you saw it. She’d broken through his shield, torn through his armor. But even as his flesh seared away, it was still trying to heal back just as quickly.

Magneto had impaled him to the spot with multiple steel bars as soon as his shield had fallen, but Apocalypse was a coward. As soon as that tide had started to turn, he tried to flee.

Hank called out, “He’s getting away!” As Apocalypse tried to teleport, an energy shield rebuilding to close around him.

Even digging as deep as you possibly could, you only had enough left to make a large orb from one palm. That white light encasing just one of your hands rather than your whole body as you realized you had to make this last shot count.

And just as you thought you were not going to have another opening to get past his shield, lightning began striking down right on top of him. A hole broke in his field with the force, the white haired girl from before surprising you all with a sudden change of allegiance.

You threw your orb at once then, controlling it to come right through the opening she had made. It exploded directly against Apocalypse’s head and neck, further blasting away muscle and bone that no longer had time to heal under all the combined attacks.

But it was still Jean who dealt the killing blow. With one final powerful surge of her energy, screaming, she erased the last of him. His body broke into only ash under her red aura. It spread into the sky all around her, like wings of flame before extinguishing at last.

You were still waiting for some final confirmation that it was really over though, that you’d won. After a few moments of only the sound of the receding wind, and the sand lightly blowing past with it, it was like a collective acceptance at last.

You fell back with a large exhale, exhausted as you laid onto your back in the dirt. In the sky, you could see Magneto and Jean hover back to where Xavier was, no doubt to check on him now. You could only imagine if Magneto would soon be apologizing to his old friend, or not, for his part in all this.

But you didn’t rest in your silence for long. As you heard footsteps, you turned your head enough to see Hank’s clawed feet approaching. But he wasn’t alone. He had Raven on one side and Peter on the other, Peter more so the one he was propping up with that broken leg.

“Raven wants to go see Charles,” Hank said by way of some explanation, awkwardly helping Peter sit back down beside you as the other winced in pain. “I need you two to stay here while we see if there’s any medical supplies intact nearby, and while we try to figure out how on earth we’re going to get home now.”

While Hank spoke, you thought Raven might have still been giving you a kind of odd look. As if she was trying to make sense of something. You could assume what, after the abrupt display between you and Peter before. But you were just too tired to feel anything other than relief right now that everyone was still here at all.

“Okay,” You said, maybe just to check that you could talk, as much as your throat still hurt from being squeezed earlier. But the two older mutants were then gone just as quickly. Hank had picked up Raven, jumping over to the exposed second floor of the building where the Professor and the others were.

Peter was unnaturally quiet afterward. At least for a while before he finally looked down at you. “So holy shit, right?”

You glanced up. That phrase really could reference about anything that had happened today. You smirked tiredly. “Could you be a little more specific please?”

“I mean, your friend just vaporized that dude.” Peter answered, waving one hand. He couldn’t stop from being animated even if he tried it seemed, even when injured. “Did you know she could do that? Like damn, we could have been done an hour ago.”

You tried not to laugh. It’d hurt your ribs too much if you did. “No. I’d say she didn’t even know she could do that.”

“Well, I know who not to piss off,” He said, before going quiet for a bit again.

You still hadn’t been around him all that long in actual length of hours. But for all you’d now been through since first meeting at the mansion, it seemed like this morning was lifetimes ago. And you could sense that his mind was churning with something else he actually wanted to say.

You looked up to him again after a while. “You okay?” You asked. Which probably was still a bit ironic for you to question, as even though he had the broken leg, you were also the one laying in the dirt, too tired and hurting to properly sit up.

It still took him some time to respond though. Which told you he actually was trying to weigh his words somewhat before speaking. But when they did finally start to come out, he was still pausing and hesitating. “I’m, um, first of all, sorry about the whole surprise kiss there. I figured you’d just slap the crap out of me or something. But I thought we were going to die too, and I...I just-”

He was looking at the ground now, like there would be some answer there that would help him verbalize what he was trying to say. “I know I screw up a lot and let things go that I shouldn’t let go I guess. I already flaked out with the whole reason I came up to your house this morning, the whole Magneto thing. And I didn’t want to do that twice, not telling someone the truth again all in one day just because I was being chicken shit. You’re just really cool, and you know...I just wanted you to know that.” He looked back at you at last, as if trying to judge if any of this was making sense at all.

It did and it didn’t of course. You didn’t understand at all what he meant about why he came up to the house in the first place, or anything about Magneto. But you didn’t want to question on that when he was already making himself vulnerable with the main point you thought he was trying to make to you at least.

“Peter, I kissed you back remember? I mean yes, there was a lot of stress involved. But it doesn’t make it a mistake.” Now you were the one perhaps putting too much optimism in your thoughts here, and taking a risk. “Maybe it just made it happen a lot sooner than it naturally would have. But it doesn’t mean I didn’t want that, you know, eventually.”

Again, you’d only known each other for a day in real terms. Of course it was too much. But everybody had to start somewhere, right? You had no idea what a serious relationship could be like though, you’d never had one. Just awkward first dates that never became second dates because it was always just weird. You didn’t feel anything that way for those people and it was always evident so quickly.

And yet here came this guy, dropped into your life like a bomb in a time of utter chaos and danger, and you thought you were now finally understanding why your friends seemed to go so crazy when they told you about their “crushes” at school. It was just something that clicked. You couldn’t put rational thought to emotions like this.

“So you wanted to kiss me?” Peter finally asked in a way that was somewhat silly to you, because of course you wouldn’t have done anything like that if you didn’t actually want to. And yet you couldn’t make any dry reply to that effect when you saw the honest expression on his face as he’d asked.

Was it really so hard for him to believe that he would be wanted? You were surprised, genuinely. Of course he was quirky and odd, well maybe a great deal odd. But for all the flashy appearance and smugness you knew he could radiate, did he not actually see his own worth?

You touched his hand lightly, as you sat up at last. It hurt, but he needed to see your eyes to believe you now. You knew this was important. “You’ve had me flustered since you first introduced yourself this morning. I’m not used to that, at all, so it’s really new. I don’t really know how it’s all supposed to work, or what I’m supposed to do next. But I can at least speak to how I feel. I want to be around you more, I want to be close.”

The physical and the emotional went hand in hand really. But, you’d both have to figure out your own comfort level on that. You continued, trying to put that into words. He didn’t owe anything to you. “You need to remember it depends what you want too though. I can like you with or without kissing again. If you just want a friend, that’s okay too.”

He chuckled, seeming kind of taken aback. “Hell...” He looked away a moment, running his hand through his hair. It was obviously a nervous gesture, as it only made it look messier. “I’d really be a pathetic boyfriend you know. Like, epically bad.”

“You think so?” You asked, trying not to press too hard, but also not wanting him to keep seeming like he didn’t deserve any of this kind of attention.

“I’ll annoy you eventually, you’ll regret it.” He kept on, a little bit quieter then.

“How do you know I’m not annoying?” You countered. Of course you hoped you weren’t, you seemed to get along well with the other students, and they ran the gamut of so many kinds of personalities. But really, how was it fair for him to assume any fault would only be his?

“Pfft.” He looked back to you. “You literally glow. It’s not even metaphorical. You’re like perfect, and-“

Did Apocalypse ding him in the head too? You were having none of that. “I’m nothing of the sort. And neither are you.” But you smiled before he could take that negatively. “And I’m totally good with that.”

He quieted again, just watching you for an awkward while, before finally responding. “I guess we can try. I mean as long as you’re admitting now that your taste in guys is really this bad and you won’t get mad at me later for saying I told you so.”

It didn’t seem proper to laugh, but he made you want to. “I’ll overlook you insulting the both of us. But yes, if you want to try, then so do I.”

“Okay.” He answered. Then seemed to realize the depth of this a little more. “Shit...didn’t expect to get mutant-napped by the government, fight a god, break my leg, and become a boyfriend all in the same day.”

“And rescue a whole mutant school,” You added.

He shrugged purposefully for effect. “That’s what heroes do, babe.”

The pivot from so self conscious that he could barely accept your attraction to him, to now wanting to brag again really was something to behold. You started to quip something back, but stopped when you saw his face go serious. He was now looking at something abruptly in the distance, so you turned your head to follow his gaze.

It was Magneto.

You straightened up as well, now fully sitting up before Erik landed in front of you both.

He was direct, speaking immediately. “It will still be some time before Charles’ little CIA friend can get her cohorts to arrange your transport out of here.”

You didn’t know if the distaste in his tone was more about Moira being a government agent, or just dislike to her presence here entirely, but he only continued. “And given that Hank has no idea how to field dress wounds without access to his full laboratory, I get that responsibility.”

Peter shifted, abruptly realizing the meaning then. “I’m fine,” He lied.

Of course he absolutely wasn’t fine. But clearly distrusting about whatever Magneto now had planned and the inevitable pain it could mean for him. Peter hadn’t moved his leg at all in the entire time you’d been sitting here together.

Erik only answered him sharply, “You need a splint before you do even more damage to yourself.”

As he then raised his hands, metal rebar started to drag itself out from the broken buildings all around you, leaving no question that this was no longer a choice for Peter.

It was hard not to think that just a short time ago, Magneto had been using that same kind of power to impale Apocalypse over and over again. And yet now he showed how controlled he could be, breaking the thin rebar into lengths that could run all the way from Peter’s thigh to just above his ankle, and even bending them slightly to match the natural curvature of the knee.

“Lift his leg.” Erik spoke.

You’d been so distracted with watching him work the metal, that it took you a moment to realize the command was for you. You looked briefly to him, then to Peter. You and Peter both shared the same nervous expression.

If you just used your hands, you felt like you would only hurt him, not being able to support his whole leg in a way that wouldn’t put more pressure on the break. But you also didn’t know if you’d rested long enough sitting here to use your powers at all either.

Someone as intimidating as Magneto standing over you both impatiently certainly didn’t help.

But if it meant less discomfort for Peter, you’d at least try. You lifted both your hands, facing your palms towards Peter’s leg while focusing as best you could. Normally what would have been fairly simple now took a good deal of effort in your still drained state. But a faint white glow did start to move across his leg, eventually covering it from his hip all the way to the end of his foot.

Once enveloped, you raised just your fingertips, lifting his entire leg gently, just high enough that Magneto could place the metal bracing around it.

You heard Peter make a small sound of pain as Erik had circled other metal strips around the longer ones that ran parallel with his leg, snugging it all into place. But beyond that, the unconventional first aid seemed to be successful. His leg was effectively now immobilized as you let it back down softly, the light fading away as you let go.

“I look like a Mad Max reject,” Peter commented absently, breaking the silence after a moment as he poked at the new metal contraption.

“You’ll be running and finding trouble again soon enough I’m sure. We still heal faster than the lesser species.” Magneto responded, but not all that surprising to you really that he would still find ways to throw jabs at non mutants even in an unrelated conversation.

What did surprise you was that when Erik had started to turn to no doubt leave again now that his task was done, it was Peter that stopped him.

“Hey, wait a second.”

You didn’t think you were imagining a new anxious sound in Peter’s voice either, and it bloomed all new nerves in you as well. What was it between the two of them? There had been confusing hints of something ever since you’d gotten to Egypt, but Peter had never elaborated to you. Not that he’d really had much chance either though.

But just because of who Magneto was, it was easy to imagine things taking a dangerous turn if the wrong thing was said or done, but you had no idea how to help when you didn’t even know what had Peter so focused on him.

You felt him touch your hand, like a physical desire for support, as he asked Erik in the most serious voice you’d ever heard from him. “Do you remember a woman named Magda Eisenhardt?”

Magneto went rigid, and you froze as well. Very suddenly you were wondering if the others could still see you from here. If they were paying you any mind at all right now. But the only person here fast enough to actually get away from Erik, was here beside you with one wing clipped essentially. There’d be no escape.

“How do you know that name?” He’d turned fully back to face you both, eyes locked on Peter.

By the way Peter had seemed to pause his breathing, he wasn’t immune to the sense of threat either, but he still answered. “Well she goes by Maximoff now. She’s my mother.”

You felt like a helpless bystander watching some kind of disaster unfolding in slow motion. The frightening look in Magneto’s eyes versus the way Peter was now almost squeezing your hand painfully. The mental gymnastics your mind was now going through were chaotic. Did Magneto do something to Peter’s mother? Were they enemies? Was this some vengeance quest?

But if any of that were true, why on earth would Peter confront him now? With both of you already injured with not a chance to survive or defend against someone of Magneto’s power?

Whatever frightful things were burning through Erik’s mind as well still silenced him long enough for Peter to speak again though. And it all came out then.

“I was too afraid to tell you earlier, but I guess I’m just ripping the damn band aid off everything now. She told me about you. How she left because she was afraid of you too. But she didn’t tell you about being pregnant. She went to the states, changed her last name and had me. Me and my sister Wanda. Twins. But I didn’t know any of that about you when I busted you out of the Pentagon those years back. I didn’t know who you really were. That you were the guy I thought had just run off, or maybe you were dead. I didn’t know my father was in a damned plastic cell less than ten fucking miles away all those years when we had nothing!”

A chill went through you. The anger in Peter’s voice towards the end only added to the shock as you were forced to process everything at once. This was why. God. Just...shit.

You were all silent after that. For an unbearable amount of time there was silence.

When Erik finally did speak, you heard the anger in him too, but it was different. There was a raw pain in that, something so extremely deep coming out of him now. His fist was clenching. “She was right, boy. If it’s all true, then Magda was goddamn right to do everything in her power to hide you from me and to try to put an ocean between us back then.”

With a little horror, you could see the smallest fragments of metallic debris starting to quiver along the ground. His emotion carrying over into the environment now.

“I did remarry after I escaped Washington and went back to Europe. We even had a little girl. Anya.” There was the slightest sheen of wetness in his eyes, even though sheer anger was the only look still coming from them. “They killed them. My wife. My daughter. The humans killed them because of who I was!”

He gritted his teeth, and you could plainly see a couple tears escape his eyes then before disappearing back behind the sides of his helmet.

“They would have done the same to you and your sister eventually. To Magda too. She knew she’d be caught in the crossfire even when I didn’t. She knew what I really was.”

“It doesn’t make it right!” Peter’s voice surprised you as it broke, uneven and just as emotional as he yelled back at Erik. But he looked down again afterward, his hand trembling against yours. “I’m sorry what they did, that was our little sister too then. But you can’t just lie to someone their whole life. My mom shouldn’t have waited so long to tell me! I could have helped you...maybe it could have been different. Maybe we-”

“It would have been the same result.” Erik said coldly. “Because I would have been the same.”

With that he flew off abruptly, completely out of sight before Peter cursed under his breath, looking defeated. “Goddamnit. He really is an asshole...”

You opened your mouth to respond, maybe to try and comfort him, but then hesitated. There was so much to digest on both sides here. “I think he might just need time to cool off...” You finally said, as delicately as you could.

“Correct.” The Professor’s voice popped into both your heads then, leading you both to glance towards the broken building where the others had been, to now see they were all standing on the edge looking towards you.

“Apologies for eavesdropping,” Xavier continued. “But you were getting quite loud, both verbally and mentally, and I wanted to make sure you were safe as I had instructed the others not to interfere.”

Peter sighed, maybe a bit embarrassed at the audience, but also still clearly unused to having anyone in his head as he replied aloud. “That’s so damn weird. Guess you’re good now then?”

“Getting there, thanks to all of you.” Xavier answered with a slight amount of humor, “But helmet or no helmet, I don’t need to read Erik to tell you that he’ll be back. His anger is only towards himself, not to you. You did the right thing by letting him know the truth. He’ll come around.”

There was another odd feeling of amusement from the Professor after a moment though. “In fact, knowing how possessive Erik can be, I dare say you may get more than you bargained for, Peter, in parental attention. Good luck to you too, (Y/N). Though I’d think he’ll approve of you once he realizes how much you genuinely care about his son.”

You stared, knowing Xavier couldn’t see your ‘are you for real/horrified’ expression from this distance but that he’d definitely feel it.

You saw Raven make an exaggerated gesture of a thumbs up from way over there and Peter laughed tiredly. “We’re totally screwed aren’t we?” You sighed and he just leaned into you, teasing. “See? Too early to say it yet? Nope, it’s not. Told ya so. Told ya so. Terrible choice of a boyfriend, babe!”

You put your head on your knees as he rubbed one of your shoulders. You mumbled numbly. “I just want to sleep for sixteen hours.”

—————————

(Continued in next chapter here)

285 notes · View notes

jimlingss · 4 years ago

Note

I saw that u were taking requests (yey) I'd want like a soulmate au (there are numerous kinds but I want u to have freedom to write what kind u want!) but it's just pure angst 😳😳 it could be any member n possibly an open or no happy ending :] I'm just a sucker for angst n think u would write this so well!

Anonymous said: Yoongi x reader, soul mate au, angsty but happy ending pls cuz I'm sensitive 🥺 maybe both soul mates get a weird tattoo, or hear each others thoughts or something else

Both these requests are asking for soulmate AUs, so I’m compiling them together. But one wants it to be angst city and the other wants a happy ending LOL. Guess we’ll see what happens.

↳ The Soulmate Gift

3.6k || 70% Angst, 30% Fluff || Min Yoongi || Soulmate!AU

Warning: depiction of child abuse

It happens when you’re ten.

They told you it was different for everyone, that it usually started during puberty and it was perfectly normal. But you’re pretty sure it’s not supposed to be like this.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

You flinch at the noises, the bathroom door quivering against the frame from the pounding on the other side. Your mom shouts, “Get out!”

“Just give me one second!” You look back into the mirror, staring at yourself with seaweed green hair and streaks of bright purple. You look like a clown and you want to cry.

You don’t run into your mom on your way out, so you go to school with a tattered baseball cap, stuffing all of your hair in it. During the trudge to school with a grumbling stomach, you hold the cap tight against your skull, not letting a single strand loose. You’re nervous on the playground, your other hand coming to grip at your backpack strap. But luckily, no one asks.

At least not until you’re inside and getting settled into your desk.

“Good morning, class!” Mrs. An struts into the room, beelining towards the front. “Open your books! Tommy, shush!” You try your best to hide beneath your open textbook that’s propped up, but the moment she looks in your direction, she’s already saying, “Y/N, no hats inside.”

You straighten. “Um, my mom—”

“Rules are rules. Take it off,” she commands without leaving room to argue or explain. “This is the last time I’ll repeat myself unless you want detention.”

So you do.

You slip the cap off your head with tears stinging your eyes.

Mrs. An turns to the whiteboard, beginning to write the title for today’s lesson, but a loud gasp from the classmate sitting behind you captures her attention again. She swivels on her feet and her eyes land straight on your head. Everyone’s eyes do. On your stark, fiery red hair.

Your cheeks burn in embarrassment.

The next thing you know, you’re being dragged by your teacher into the principal's office. From the hall, you can still hear the entire classroom giggling, whispering about you and making a complete ruckus much to Mrs. An’s dismay.

“This is unbelievable!” she howls, hands lifted to the sky. “How could a fifth grader have hair like this?! It’s entirely inappropriate! It’s a complete distraction to the classroom!”

The principal, Mr. Park, hums. His hands are clasped on top of his desk and he calmly asks, “Did your parents dye your hair yesterday, Y/N?”

You slump and mutter, “No.”

He frowns. “Then who did?”

“No one…”

Mrs. An spits, “Then you did it yourself?!”

“No!” Your voice pitches in an attempt to defend yourself and your teeth sink into the bottom of your lip, trying to hold back your tears. You don’t want to get into trouble. “I woke up like this!”

But Mrs. An doesn’t believe you. Her eyes narrow and she scoffs. “How dare you lie to me and the principle?! If you didn’t do it, then who did? It’s against the rules to have anything other than your natural hair colour!”

Mr. Park sighs lightly. “We’ll just have to contact your mom and speak to her, Y/N.”

Immediately, your eyes widen and you bolt to a stand. “No, please!” you cry out. “Don’t! I’m sorry! I’ll dye it back! I won’t do it ever again!”

But the man shakes his head. “It’s too late for that.”

Your fist crumples and you deflate.

Your mom comes in half an hour later, dressed in stained jeans, old boots, and the only clean flannel she has. She’s not happy. You can tell by the look on her face. Even if she smiles and nods her head at the principal, you can see the tick in her eye and the muscle in her cheek twitching.

The moment she looks at you, her eyes become rounded at your crimson hair.

“I had no idea this happened. I’m so sorry for her behaviour. She must’ve gotten her hands onto my dye kits somehow.” She sighs and turns to you. “It won’t happen again. Right, Y/N?”

You nod. “I’m sorry.”

Mr. Park smiles softly. “Not at all. It’s not that big of a deal. Some...teachers around here just adhere more strongly to the rules, so we want to make sure it’s consistent for everyone. It’s a bit of a distraction to her peers, but as long as Y/N comes in tomorrow with more...appropriate hair, it won’t be a problem.”

Afterwards, you’re sent home early.

Your mom is silent on the walk home. You trail after her, dreading what will happen when you get back.

The neighbours’ dog barks against the chain link fence, growling and baring their teeth. You flinch, getting closer to the gutter to avoid them. You’re safe when you get to your yard a few steps away and onto the worn, wooden porch that nearly breaks with your mom’s stomps. She kicks a few cigarette buds to the side and opens the squeaky screen door. You swallow hard and follow after her.

The living room is messy with clothes and old pizza boxes on the floor, and the TV is still on in the corner.

“Mom….mom….I didn’t do it.”

You drop your backpack, watching her stride towards the kitchen. She opens a drawer as you plead to her, and your voice becomes louder as the silver reflection of sharp scissors catches your eye. “No! Please! I swear I’m not lying!”

It’s useless.

She’s larger, taller, bigger and stronger than you are.

She comes over and grabs your long hair, yanking it from your head. You cry as she starts to cut. Jagged lines, quick snips, sawing off the strands. A sob breaks through your chest and trying to get away only makes her grip on your hair tighten and she pulls it to get you back.

Mom grits her teeth. “How dare you go behind my back and cause my trouble, you bitch. You stole my dye, didn’t you?! You thief!”

You scream and cry. “I didn’t! I didn’t!”

She never once notices how your hair returns to its natural colour as it sheds to your feet. That the moment it’s snipped from your head, the blazing red has faded away and lost the colour.

When it’s over, the scissors are tossed on the floor.

You’re left slumped on the ground, in a pool of your own hair. There are bald spots on your scalp while the other side is longer, uneven. What’s left of your head bleeds bright yellow, the colour of sunshine.

The next day, the shade mellows out, almost into a dirty blonde. You hope it’s good enough.

Your mom’s asleep on the sofa, snoring away with the TV still playing in the background. So you make it past her and trudge to school.

Kids are playing on the playground when you get there and you grip your backpack straps as you look on. But you don’t join them. Your feet turn and you duck out of sight, slipping into the school through the side doors. You’re lucky the janitor hasn’t locked them.

You’re not supposed to be inside the building yet, but you hope no one notices. Unluckily, someone turns the corner down the hall. But you breathe a sigh of relief when it’s just Mrs. Jung.

She’s always been nice.

“Good morning.”

She’s busy tapping on her phone, yet in a chirpy voice, she still exclaims, “Good morning! How are you—”

Mrs. Jung finally looks up and she suddenly stops.

You don’t know why her face looks like that. Like she’s seen a ghost. Is your hair really that bad? You tried to fix it and you thought it turned out okay.

Mrs. Jung gets closer and then lowers to a kneel in front of you, matching your height. Her shaking hand lifts and she touches the side of your head. You feel her fingertips against your scalp that still stings. You hiss and when you look at her, you see tears in her eyes. You wonder why.

“Who did this?” Her voice is quiet, gentle.

“Um….I was playing with scissors.”

Mrs. Jung looks at you again and says, “You’re allowed to tell me, Y/N.”

You stay quiet, not sure what to tell her, not sure you want to get into any more trouble. If you do and get sent to the principal's office again, who knows what your mom would do then.

But as you’re thinking about it, Mrs. Jung adds on, “No one will get into trouble, I promise.”

She looks into your eyes.

Your head droops, downcast vision looking at the floor. A quiet mumble escapes— “My mom.”

You’re not sure what happens after that. You’re sure your mom would be enraged if she knew you were talking about her and if you got her into trouble, that would be the worst. But for some reason, you don’t feel scared. Not when Mrs. Jung takes your hand and brings you to her science classroom.

You sit behind her desk that’s hidden away from the rest of the class by bookshelves and she gives you an apple juice box. You slurp it up — you haven’t eaten since yesterday’s lunch.

When you peek out, you see Mrs. Jung talking to another teacher in the hall. Soon after, the principle comes to visit you. He has the same expression as Mrs. Jung did and asks you if your mom’s done something like this before.

That day, your grandma picks you up from school. It’s a pleasant surprise. You’ve always liked your grandma but your mom never let her visit much. She hugs you tight.

The colour of your hair is a warm shade of gray.

...

Mrs. Jung takes you on a one-on-one special field trip on Sunday. She picks you up from Grandma’s house after you’ve had your favourite for breakfast: sunny-side up eggs. She drives you to the clinic and the female doctor hits your knee, making it bounce. The doctor also measures how tall you are, shines a light in your eye and asks if green is your favourite colour.

You see in the wall mirror that your head’s turned into a teal shade. You tell her no.

Half an hour later, you’re put in a machine that flashes lots of colours. They reassure you but you’re not scared. The vivid hues and mosaic of shades that blur past your eyes are pretty.

When it’s done, the doctor holds a clipboard while sitting next to the computer. Your legs swing from the edge of the examination table as you’re situated comfortable on the plush seat.

“It’s as I initially suspected, the hair is her soulmate gift. It changes colour based on her soulmate’s emotions.”

Mrs. Jung frowns. “I’ve never heard of something like that before.”

“Yes, well, it’s much more rare. Only point zero six experience a hair quirk.” The doctor looks from Mrs. Jung to you then back at her again. “Typically, as you know, soulmate gifts come in the form of names tattooed into skin or even countdowns of when the person would meet their soulmate, but soulmate gifts can take all kinds of different shapes and forms. Luckily, this shouldn’t affect her too much aside from, obviously, her hair changing color. Kids usually receive their gift around puberty, but looks like she’s an early bloomer.”

The doctor briefly smiles at you and then rolls on her chair towards her desk. “She’s also malnourished, but I believe with the proper nutrition, she’ll be able to recover. We should book another appointment in a few months to keep an eye on that and the hair.”

When the trip to the clinic is over, Mrs. Jung brings you to the mall.

You look around with wide eyes at all the clothes in the windows, but she eventually stops in front of a particular store and kneels in front of you. Her eyes lock into yours and she takes your hand.

“Y/N, you understand what the doctor told you, right?”

“Yeah. My hair’s my soulmate gift.” You had guessed it was that anyway.

Mrs. Jung nods with a smile. “Yes, you’ve always been a smart girl.”

She strokes your head affectionately and says, “I know you might not feel it now, but it really is a gift. Your soulmate is the one meant for you, your other half. They’re the one who can make you even happier. It’s both a blessing and a privilege to have. But it’s also okay if you hate it. You don’t have to like your soulmate gift,” she reassures. “If one day, you’re more comfortable with your hair, then that would be good. But it’s also okay if you’re not. It’s up to you.”

You nod after a moment.

Mrs. Jung smiles. “We’re gonna go into that wig shop, okay? You can pick two that you like and I’ll help you get it.”

Picking out wigs is more fun than you expect. The people there are happy to help and you end up going home with one black, long hair wig and another brown bobbed one that makes you look like Rapunzel after she cut her hair.

...

You only see your mom three times after that.

Once, she comes to your grandma’s house. Your grandma doesn’t let her see you, but you watch them yell at each other on the porch from the upstairs window. The next time is a year later in court. Your mom cries out for you and you tell her you’re sorry. Her hug is so tight, you can barely breathe.

The last is a visit on your own accord years later.

The small house you spent your childhood in is falling apart, windows broken, trash in the yard. You find her sitting on the armchair with a hazy expression, TV playing in the corner. She’s in the same exact position as if you never left. You put a blanket over her, but she stirs awake and sees you. She asks to borrow a hundred dollars.

Your mom winds up throwing a dirty plate your way when you give her twenty. It’s all you have on you.

You don’t realize the significance of what Mrs. Jung’s done for you until years later after you’ve long graduated elementary. So you visit her during High School with a thank you card and a bouquet of flowers. She’s gotten old by then, but she still remembers. She cries and hugs you tight. It feels comforting. And her hand brushes against the strands of your baby blue locks.

Grandma helps you grow out your hair again and is one of the people who help you become comfortable in it. By university, you’ve discarded your wigs in favour of your real hair that’s gotten luscious and shiny. Your friends think it's the coolest thing they’ve ever seen and some people approach you to tell you they love it and ask where you got it done.

You tell them it’s your soulmate gift.

Throughout the years, you pick at the ends of your hair and keep track of its changes in your diary. It becomes a habit to play with your hair, to memorize the shade it morphs to. You find that during the winter seasons, your hair becomes white often. One day, it turns white twenty six times.

On Valentine’s Day one year, your hair stays solid pink the whole day. And on another, it’s black for an entire week in April.

You start to hypothesize on the data you collect, noting the frequency of the hair colour changes, of each shade. You suspect hues of yellow signify happiness, reds are anger, blues are sadness, white is when your soulmate is cold. You’re not so sure about the others—

“Y/N.”

Seokjin is leaning on your cubicle as you shut your journal, having recorded your hair turning into a shade of lilac.

“Boss man wants to see you.”

Your eyes widen and you stumble up, pushing your small office chair back. “What for?”

The man shrugs. “Beats me. I wouldn’t worry about it though. It’s not like he’s going to fire you………..right?”

Seokjin grins, but his joke only spurs more nerves on you.

You get to the door, smooth out your pencil skirt and with a deep breath, you knock.

“Come in.”

“You wanted to see me, Mr. Min?”

You step inside his office, finding him looking into a small table mirror at his desk. He’s peering at his left eye and bats his lash several times. But then he sets the mirror down and looks at you.

“Yes, please take a seat.”

You clear your throat and sit in the chair across from him. The mirror is propped up in your direction, and you notice how your hair turns into a shade of monotone gray. It starts at the roots, bleeding downwards until all the strands have altered completely.

You pipe up, “If this is about the Jeon files, sir, I already redid them.”

“No, that’s not it.” He rubs his left eye that’s watering and then blinks. “Actually, I wanted to have a conversation about this for a while. Joy was supposed to talk to you about this, but she’s busy at the moment.”

Joy from HR.

You’re immediately on alert. “Yes, sir.”

Mr. Min says, “It’s about your hair.”

Oh.

He rubs his eye and then clasps his hands together on top of his desk. “Recently, we received a customer complaint that your hair was unprofessional.”

“It’s my soulmate gift.”

“Yes. I know. You mentioned it during your interview. But it still could be considered a distraction in the workplace.”

The word ‘distraction’ has a muscle by your brow jumping. It makes you practically bristle as déjà vu washes over you. But you aren’t ten anymore. You don’t have to be afraid.

You straighten. “With all due respect, I don’t think it’s a requirement for me to have to change my hair. This is out of my control….sir.”

Suddenly, your hair turns a faint hue of red.

Mr. Min’s brow raises as if he didn’t expect you to be so difficult. “It’s part of the rules to have business appropriate attire in the office.”

“Attire yes, but there is nothing referring to hair,” you quietly assert.

His jaw shifts and he leans back into his seat. “Well, we’ll have to confirm if that’s true with HR—”

“I already did,” you interrupt him with a meek smile and as an afterthought, you add, “sir.”

Your hair turns a stronger shade of red. From pastel to a raspberry. Your pupils flicker to the mirror on his desk and your brows furrow as you notice it.

Mr. Min breaks you out of your trance and you redirect your attention to him again. “Is it impossible to make it less of a distraction?” he asks while rubbing his eye that’s tearing up again.

“If it becomes a requirement for me to wear wigs to work every day and not an expectation for others, sir, then the company should pay for it, put it on for me each morning and help me maintain it.” Your hair turns a stronger shade of red — crimson — as Mr. Min rubs his eye more incessantly. You add, “With all due respect, I don’t consider my hair a distraction at all. It is out of my control and it isn’t my fault if others are distracted. It has to do with their attention span.”

He stands. “That’s enough.”

At the same time, from his watered eye, you see something fall out.

You point. “Umm, sir…”

“Shit,” he mutters underneath his breath and looks to the carpet. You stand there for a delayed second before deciding to help him. You round his desk and descend to the ground where he is. All he says is, “It’s a contact lens.”

It’s a surprise to you considering you didn’t know he wore them.

But you quickly spot the transparent half-sphere. “Oh, it’s over there. By your foot.”

Mr. Min frowns. “Where?”

He looks up to see where you’re pointing. Your faces are inches away and instantly your eyes widen. A quiet gasp leaves your lungs. Not because of your close proximity but because Mr. Min’s iris is a fading red. And as confusion takes you, it morphs into a shade of gray.

Blooming outwards from his pupil, colour swirling into place.

“Your eye…” you murmur.

He mumbles, “It’s a soulmate gift.”

Yoongi grabs the brown colour contact lens, cursing at how it’s gotten dirty. But before he can get up, your hands latch onto his wrist, fingers digging into his skin and you tell him, “Wait.”

“What?”

There’s an unquenchable thirst to test the hypothesis that’s dawned upon you.

So when your hair starts to turn into gray as well, you surge forward on sheer intuition. And you kiss your boss, Min Yoongi. Your lips press against his, enough to register how soft and velvet his mouth is, long enough to feel his vanilla chapstick transfer onto your lips. But it’s a chaste peck. Shy and hesitant. And you pull away just as quickly.

Yoongi falls back on his butt with eyes nearly falling out of their sockets.

Immediately, you look over to the mirror on his desk. Your hair is turning from gray to red with faint streaks of cotton candy pink.

You gaze back at Yoongi to find his iris is peony pink.

“D-Did you just kiss me?!”

“Umm, sir, with all due respect, I believe you’re my soulmate.”

The words to dawn upon him. For the first time, your strands of hair morphs into a soft, pastel pink and his irises match the same shade.

#bts fanfic #bts scenario #bts drabble #yoongi angst #yoongi fanfic #yoongi reader insert #yoongi fluff #maso-cxhi #HOPEFULLY this is sufficient #it was definitely hard to balance out some extreme angst while also delivering some fluff lol

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luvdsc · 5 years ago

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let’s play pretend.

what if we’re in love? haha, just kidding... unless?

pairing :: na jaemin x reader genre :: fluff / best friend + college au word count :: 1,552 words warnings :: none playlist :: talk too much (coin) ⋆ face (woosung) ⋆ pretend (bad suns) ⋆ la belle femme (hunny) ⋆ love you like crazy (taeyeon) author’s note :: best f2l is the ultimate trope sorry i don’t make the rules

Persistent fratboys at parties are the absolute worst. Already early into the night, you find yourself unable to shake off the latest leech in all his snapback and rayban glory. Why is it that they never back off until you’re forced to lie about a significant other? If you’re lucky, they’ll stop there. It’s quite stupid how they’ll let you go only if you suddenly have a boyfriend, rather than simply understanding that you aren’t interested. Perhaps, they’re too scared to confront how undesirable they actually are.

Literally, nobody wants someone who owns salmon shorts and more button up shirts with palm trees than necessary. Never mind the fact that you’ve seen this guy participate in more forties at four than actually attend his classes sober if he even makes it to your shared A.I. ethics lecture at eight in the morning. And he’s wearing those god awful sperry boat shoes with no socks. Inwardly, you shiver.

Eyes flitting around, you desperately try to see if you can find any one of your friends nearby who can take you out of your misery, but Yeji and Yerim are already mixed in the drunken dancing crowd, and you can’t find Donghyuck or Jeno anywhere. Renjun had been standing with you prior, but he already went home a few minutes ago because he had midterms early tomorrow morning. However, perhaps Lady Luck understands your woes because you spot your best friend coming out of the kitchen.

You quickly grab his arm, pulling Jaemin over. “Sorry, I’m here with him already.”

“This is your boyfriend?” the guy asks skeptically, unabashedly staring at your friend in question.

“Yep. Yes, that’s him. My boyfriend. Love of my life. My other half. His name is Jaemin.”

Jaemin turns to look at you, somewhat confused. You try to send some sort of telepathic message to him, and to your relief, it seems that he understands when you shoot him a look of mixed panic and desperation.

“Yeah, that’s me. I’m the boyfriend. The super significant other.” He reconfirms your answer and returns the male’s stare, giving him an enthusiastic thumbs up.

Great. Nothing says “I love you” more than a common hand signal found on YouTube videos. Maybe you should tell fratboy to hit the subscribe button, too. Subscribe to see more daily mishaps in the life of Y/N and watch as she digs an even deeper hole for herself.

The boy scoffs, crossing his arms across his chest, as he shakes his head in disbelief. You are temporarily distracted, almost impressed even, at how his styled hair doesn’t even move. You really need to know where he gets his hair products.

“Really? It doesn’t seem like it.”

Slipping his arm around your waist smoothly, Jaemin tugs you closer, and you freeze, pressed up snugly against his side. You really didn’t think this one through. Swallowing hard, you force your body to relax. It’s no big deal, it’s not like you’ve been harboring a crush on your best friend for months and have been trying to get over him for the sake of friendship.

“I don’t know what to tell you, but I’ve been in love with her ever since she fell asleep on me in our macroeconomics class.”

You smile sheepishly as you remember your first meeting, pretending that his words didn’t affect your heart as much as it actually did whilst simultaneously thanking the stars that he was always a quick thinker. His lips quirk up in the corners into that sweet smile you always adore before he presses a tender kiss to your temple that has you going dizzy. Your cheeks warm up as you duck your head, attempting to hide the bashful expression on your face.

“She had on this pale blue fluffy sweater, and she reminded me of a cute baby blue jay. She had a green notebook decorated with corgi stickers and always took really neat notes with this pen that had a flower chain attached to the top and had the prettiest handwriting. I remember thinking to myself, I better take good notes even though I never took notes before, just so I could give them to her as an excuse to talk to her afterwards.”

He absentmindedly draws circles on your hip, making you even more flustered not only from his actions, but also shocked that he remembers all of that even down to the outfit you were wearing. Heck, you didn’t even remember what you wore that day. He gazes at you, smiling fondly, and your breath hitches in your throat. His eyes look so sincere, sparkling under the harsh strobe lights, and if you didn’t know any better, you really thought he may have loved you back. A dull ache starts to form in your chest at that silly daydream. “She looked really cute, leaning against my shoulder like that, and even her snoring was adorable.”

You gasp at that, looking at him indignantly. “I don’t snore!”

“You’re right, I’m sorry, angel. Forgive me?”

He pauses and leans down, his lips millimeters away from yours, before hesitating and lingering there, so close yet so far away. Your heart nearly skips a beat from how naturally the sweet term of endearment slips from his lips and from the close proximity between you and him. From the corner of your eye, you can still see that fratboy standing there. You had almost forgotten he even existed: the sole, annoying cause of your current predicament. To seal the deal and perhaps for a little bit of a selfish reason, you lean forward, closing the distance and grazing your lips against his.

Your hands are on his chest, nervously tugging on the lapels of his jacket, and his are placed on your waist, gently tugging you impossibly closer. You’re quite certain Jaemin can feel how fast your heart is beating with how tight your bodies are now pressed together, but that’s the least of your worries right now. The only thoughts that pop up in your mind is that one, his lips are slightly chapped, yet incredibly soft; two, he’s a very good kisser; and three, mission: “how to get over having a crush on your best friend” is a complete and utter failure.

When you reluctantly pull away from him, his nose nudges yours softly, and your eyes flutter open. He is looking at you with parted lips, hazy eyes, and an indiscernible gaze that causes you to feel a whole colony of butterflies in your stomach. Any words that had come to mind have now flown out the window, and you can’t tear your eyes away from the radiant boy in front of you.

“Maybe we should do that again. Just in case, you know? To really send a message to that douche,” he mutters quietly, his eyes searching yours for confirmation. You give him an almost imperceptible nod, relenting to your heart this time instead of your mind.

It feels as if it’s simply the two of you standing there, the rest of your surroundings fading away and the music slowing down in the background. You look up at him from under your lashes, eyes fluttering close once more. Jaemin presses his mouth against yours firmly this time, with certainty, almost as if he meant it, as if his lips are made solely for kissing yours. And in that moment, you truly believe that he’s in love with you.

You are dazed, absolutely starstruck, until the two of you break apart, until you remember why this all came to be, and your heart comes crashing back to earth. Those seven minutes in heaven were utterly heavenly in your little bubble of make-believe universe with only you and him. You almost don’t want to open your eyes, but you do, and you find yourself staring back at him.

And just as you’ve always known, Jaemin looks absolutely breath taking, impossibly ethereal, and one hundred percent devastatingly heart wrenching: a modern day Adonis in the flesh. He gives you a shy smile, pretty eyes glimmering as if he stole from the night sky himself. You’re so close that you can count every single long dark lash framing his starry eyes and feel the warmth radiating from his blushing cheeks. His lips are red and slightly swollen, and you feel as if you had just ruined a masterpiece from the Louvre.

Your cherry lip gloss has been smudged onto his lips, and you reach out to carefully wipe it off. He gently catches your hand when you move it away and intertwines his fingers with yours. Your breath hitches in your throat once more, and you admire the way your hand fits perfectly in his for a few stolen moments until the dream is shattered once more and you’re pulled back to reality.

“Thanks, Jaemin. He’s gone now, so you don’t have to pretend to be in love with me anymore,” you mumble softly, slowly pulling your hand away and giving him an apologetic smile.

He reaches out to gently brush his finger tips against the apples of your cheeks before delicately tucking a stray strand of your hair behind your ear. When you finally dare to meet his eyes, Jaemin is gazing at you with the most tender expression imaginable.

“Who says I was pretending?”

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g0ldengubler · 4 years ago

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chapter 9 ~ ...and the after party

A/N: i’m baaaaaccckkkk! i hope u guys enjoy this chapter and expect 10 coming soon! also thank you guys for almost 600 followers! that’s insane i love u guys🥺🥺 get ready for the one shot coming right after this ;) (also i will fix this so it has the keep reading part sometime this week i’m on my phone lol)

Category: smut (NSFW18+)

CW: use of cannabis, hangover, lots of smut at the end.

Word Count: 2598

✨masterlist✨

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

You were awoken by the feeling of arms wrapping around you as the pounding in your head grew. Taking Spencer's hand, you covered your eyes thinking it would calm it down a bit as you thought back to last night. You couldn't remember much, but you did remember feeling happy and content, being surrounded by people you could actually call family and not feel the need the hold back anything about you. You remember feeling free, whether that was the alcohol talking or not. You've only known Spencer and the team for only a short time, and through that, you've gotten to know Spencer at, what felt like, a deeper level. That was something you never really could do or feel, growing up - to feel like you belonged.

Carefully moving his hand back to where it was before, you let your eyes flutter open as the pounding got worse. You looked around the room to see that you and Spencer had taken the couch and you were the first one awake. You saw Emily and Jj passed out on the floor, their heads on pillows and blankets wrapped around them. You figured that Garcia and Morgan were asleep in her room, as the two couldn't take their hands off each other last night, and Hotch had passed out on the recliner, his snoring being the loudest of them all which didn't surprise you until you realized you got wasted with your boss. You chuckle softly to yourself, knowing that this would be one hell of a story to tell in the future, hell maybe even tell Seth when you got back.

You felt the body next to you shift and looked to your right, seeing a sleepy Dr.Reid rubbing the sand out of his eyes. As he shifted the weight of his body onto his elbow, he smiled when he saw you before putting a hand on his head.

"How much did I drink last night?" He asked.

"Good morning to you, too." You said before leaning over and kissing his forehead.

Spencer wraps his arm around you and pulls you in closer. As the two of you talked about what you remembered, everyone started to wake up one by one, joining in on the conversation. Garcia came in before Morgan woke up and made everyone tea and gave each one of you some advil for the headaches.

"Where did Rossi go?" asked Jj.

"Rossi already had an Uber ready to pick him up from the bar," said Hotch, "I just checked my phone and he had texted me when he got home."

"Anyone up for food?" asked Emily, "I'm starving!"

"Anyone have any plans today?" asked Garcia.

Everyone shook their heads. "I haven't even thought that far since we got back from Michigan." you said.

''Good! Because I already had something in mind."

"You always do, baby girl." jokes Morgan, which made everyone chuckle to themselves.

She looks around the room as an evil grin grew on her face. All but Morgan were confused. "Ok, no," he says, "I don't think anyone would want to do that, especially Hotch."

"What wouldn't I want to do?" asked Hotch, looking even more confused than before.

Morgan sighs before speaking, as if he didn't want to say this in front of him. "Garcia has been wanting everyone over for a "proper smoke sesh", not like the last time. She's been like this ever since she got these new hemp blunt wraps."

"They're healthier than normal ones," she said, looking a little annoyed with Morgan, "they're better than getting leftover tobacco and nicotine in your system."

Hotch sat there for a moment, sipping on his tea while thinking about it. He put his thumb under his chin and his index finger on top, going through the scenarios and the pros and cons. "I mean," he spoke, "Jessica still has Jack over at Hershey Park from their weekend vacation, and I wouldn't have to be back until tomorrow...."

"...So is that a yes?" asked Emily.

There a was a pause for a moment, and in that moment you could feel the unnecessary tension in the room.

"...yeah I'll stay for tonight," he confesses, "but we do NOT talk about this with anyone else. I haven't smoked weed since college."

"Didn't you go to law school, though?" asked Spencer.

"How do you think we got through law school?"

Everyone cheered jokingly and laughed at the fact that their boss was getting high with them. Never did you think that within the beginning of your time with the BAU, you came at a time where the whole team was given their first uninterrupted, paid vacation that desperately needed, and was able to find love and do things you didn't think they'd do. You knew this night was going to be even more interesting than last night.

____

Something about getting high with others made you feel it more than usual. Could've been because it's more fun with more people, but that train of thought faded into the fog of your brain as your attention shifted to the cards in front of you. That night, Garcia had rolled the blunt and everyone passed it around until it was a roach, Hotch having a coughing fit at one point, but she had made her way to her room after and had the box of Cards Against Humanity in one hand and a bong and grinder in her other. Spencer cracked up the most out of all of you when Hotch had his coughing fit, you couldn't tell what was funnier.

As Changes by David Bowie played in the background, you were enjoying your own little version of the game. Whoever lost the round had to take a bong rip, and boy was Hotch having a rough night as he couldn't seem to get a win.

It came to the final round, and you and Spencer were tied on 9 black cards. The black card was, 'When I was tripping on acid, ____ turned into ____', and it was Jj's turn to pick. She luckily narrowed it down to two cards, one of them being yours. As she read them allowed, you noticed that she laughed at yours a little more than the other one. She ended up choosing yours and you cheered that you won the game, deciding that you wanted to take a victory rip. As you exhaled without choking, you caught Spencer out of the corner of your eye rolling his, which you pretended to ignore.

You lay back on the couch afterward and snuggled into Spencer as he wrapped an arm around you. Everyone talked amongst themselves, eating the snacks that were placed out on the coffee table. You felt Spencer lean in as he whispered, "That's not how you were last time," he said "you were completely gagging."

"Are you just jealous that you choked when you took a bong rip?" You teased. You knew where this was going, but you hoped that he had a plan and where to go.

Spencer looks around the room before leaning back to your ear. "Where it all started," he said, "follow 5 minutes after me and if anyone asks you're going to the bathroom, clear angel?"

You simply nod as you watch him get up. You pretend to look at your phone, keeping your head down, but you would look up a little bit to watch him stumble his way. After five minutes you get up and head to Garcia's room, where you see Spencer spread out on the bed looking up at the stars, just like that night.

"Well well well," You said after shutting the door, "someone looks spaced out." You sit next to him on the bed, where he sits up on his shoulder.

Spencer pushes a strand of hair out of your face smiling. "Nice one," he says, "but I'm going to be honest, I think we should skip all the foreplay."

He pushes you down on the bed as he gets on top of you. You felt the air leave your body as his lips went straight for your neck, devouring the blank space. "I need you so bad, y/n," Spencer says breathless, "it was hard hiding myself after in front of everyone as you took those rips. I couldn't stop thinking about pounding you."

"Well get to it then, daddy." You said as innocently as you could, palming him through his pants.

That was the push he needed. He quickly ripped off your jeans with your panties going with as you ripped him out of his. You saw his cock hit his stomach and you couldn't hold in your moan. Spencer quickly covered your mouth shushing you. "I know they have Bowie going on repeat, but I don't think it'll cover our beautiful voices, however. Can you be a good girl and try to be quieter?"

Muffled, you say yes. Spencer moves you up higher on the bed so your head could rest on the pillows. He doesn't even tease your entrance as he pushes all the way into you. Your jaw hits the mattress as you let out a silent scream. He wouldn't even let you adjust as he quickly moves inside you.

"Fuck daddy it feels so good!" You moan out.

"You're so fucking tight, angel...And so wet-fuck...You like being fucked like a slut, hm? You like getting pounded into the mattress like this?"

"Yes yes yes yessss!"

He leans down and lifts your shirt up, showing that you weren't wearing a bra as your tits glow in the moonlight. He tsks at no bra before letting it slide and attaches his mouth to your right nipple. Your fingers tangle in his hair as he flicks your nipple with his tongue, intoxicated by the amount of pleasure you were feeling.

Shortly after, you felt the pressure in your lower stomach start to drop and you tighten your grip around his cock and he lets out groan.

"You getting close, angel?" He asks.

"Please let me cum daddy, please please please!" You beg.

He grabs the headboard with his left as he used his right for support, pounding you even harder and harder. Your grip on him tighten even more, making him tilt his head back at the friction.

"Cum for me angel, be a good girl and cum so hard all over my cock."

You throw a pillow over your face in fear of the other's finding out. You felt like you were screaming at the top of your lungs as he helped ride out your orgasm, but he didn't stop. He kept going at it, railing you to the mattress. You could feel yourself getting more and more sensitive as he kept going at it. You looked up to see him still holding onto the headboard as he throws his head back in pleasure. It was so hot to you that you felt yourself getting close again.

"Ca-I can't...take it daddy!" You whimper out.

Spencer looks down at you and gives you an evil grin as he chuckled to himself. "You can...and you will." He shuts his eyes tight and almost lets his jaw fall open as he felt you grip tightly to his cock again before saying, " I'm so close angel. You want me to cum in you?"

"Yes daddy pleeeasssee fill me up with all your cum!" You moan.

With a few more hard thrusts, they started to get sloppy as you felt him coat your walls and heard him moan and groan in your ear, cursing under his breath. Spencer falls on top of you as he finishes, trying to catch his breath. He falls to the side of you and watches his cum pool out of you.

Spencer's POV~

"You did so good, y/n," I say breathlessly, leaning down and showering her body in kisses. She immediately snuggled herself into my body, forcing me to wrap an arm around her. I think she knew the sex was great, and she told me she loved getting fucked like that, but I could tell she was falling as the vulnerability was starting to peak through.

"Hey," I say as I pepper her cheek in kisses, "You were such a good girl. Do you want me to get you anything? Water? Your pen?"

"Can you clean me up for now," She asks in a small voice, "I'm ok. Just let me try to stand first."

As she goes up to stand, she falls right back down to the bed. I tried to holding in my laughter as she kept trying before stopping her. "It's ok, let me go get something to clean you up and then we'll go back out there, ok?"

"Thank you Spence." She says, trying to hold back tears of embarrassment. I reach over and wipe a tear away from her face.

As I shut the door behind me to get a wipe from the bathroom, I noticed that everything was quiet. Too quiet. Not being able to find wipes in the bathroom, I slowly but casually (or as casually as I could act) walked to the kitchen. I couldn't even make it there as I froze where I stood in the living room, eyes darting on me with a few small grins poking out. I look at his team, as they look right back at me. It was Hotch who finally broke the tension in the air and started cracking up. No words, just laughter. Soon everyone else joined in, myself only giving small giggles and chuckles.

"You heard?"

"You're full of surprises, kid!" said Emily.

"That was you in there?" Morgan asked jokingly, "You. Pretty Rickey. You were saying all of that shit....Why do I feel like I need to learn from you now?"

That made Hotch laugh even more as he burst into another fit. Everyone looked over to him, some confused, some worried.

"Is he ok?" I asked.

Jj pats the top of his head and shook hers. "He'll be fine, he's gonna pass out any minute now."

"Where's y/n? Is she ok?" asked Garcia.

"Yeah she umm..." I was trying to think of the words to use but finally I just came out and said, "...Do you umm..have any wipes, Garcia? She's ok, she just uhh...can't get up without falling back on the bed."

As I gave my classic white, awkward smile, Garcia shook her head and told me she would take care of her. She grabs an ice pack from her freezer and then went over to her purse and grab a packet of baby wipes. She walks over to the hallway before stoping in front of me, making me nervous.

"Did you really have to have rough sex on my bed?"

"I mean, you and Morgan proba-"

"Never mind, just don't talk about it again."

She walks off pass me hurrying to y/n's aid. I look over to Morgan and he just chucked, motioning me to come sit next to him. I walk over and sit down, Morgan handing me the joint they were passing around. Hotch had finally passed out like Jj had said, and Emily put the music back on. I knew there were a lot of questions I wanted to ask, but I decided to save them for tomorrow as I continued to enjoy the night, waiting for y/n to come back out so I could hold her close and give her all my love after ruining her like that.

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #mgg #matthew gray gubler #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fanfiction

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misc-headcanons · 4 years ago

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12 Days of XXX-mas Collab Day 4: Popsicle (Hawks/F!Reader)

❄ Link to the Collab Masterpost (warning: dark content in some/most of these fics!)

❄ Word Count: 1947

❄ Contains: Smut, deepthroating

When Hawks entered the apartment he shared with ____, he expected to see her watching videos on her phone while splayed out on the couch. As it turns out, he was somewhat right; she was on the couch, sitting in a kneeling position and concentrating intently. A popsicle was in her mouth, and there were a few scattered wrappers and sugar-stained wooden sticks in one of her hands as she tried to focus on the subject at hand--or rather, in-mouth.

Hawks raised an eyebrow and smirked, about to ask what she was doing. When he saw her slowly bobbing her head back and forth, trying her best to take as much of the popsicle in her mouth as possible without gagging, he simply blinked in surprise. Now he really wanted to know what the hell she had been doing while he was gone.

He watched her silently for a few seconds, waiting to see if she'd noticed that she was no longer alone or if she was too lost in thought to hear him open the door. A small trickle of bright-colored juice melted off at her lips and trickled down her chin, and she took this as a cue to move the popsicle even deeper down her throat. Hawks's eyes widened as she managed to swallow the entire thing, with the colored end of it barely peeking out from between her lips. He'd gotten blowjobs from ____ before, and while he always enjoyed himself (as evidenced by her very sore scalp and more than one noise complaint from her neighbors afterwards), she'd never been able to take his entire length like that. Granted, he was a bit more of a mouthful than your average popsicle, but...still, he'd never felt what it was like to fully sheathe himself inside of her throat like that.

____, still oblivious to Hawks's presence, slowly pulled the popsicle out of her mouth and licked the juice that had fallen down her chin before smiling proudly and taking a triumphant chomp out of what was left of her now mostly-melted snack. "Okay," she exhaled, licking her lips and setting the popsicle stick next to the others on the nearby coffee table. "Now I just have to wait for Keigo to get home and I can show off my new skills, hehe."

Hawks crossed his arms and grinned. Were all these popsicles just for her to practice deepthroating on? "New skill, eh?"

____ automatically jumped in her seat, falling back against the couch when she turned to see Hawks by the front door. "Holy-shit-what-the--Oh!" She felt her face heat up and she gave her boyfriend a sheepish grin, embarrassed that she'd been caught. "Jeez, you're gonna give me a heart attack one of these days, Kei."

Kei shrugged. "I know CPR, so it's no biggie," he replied playfully, walking to kiss her cheek and plop onto the couch next to her. "But you already know how good I am at mouth-to-mouth, right babe?"

____ rolled her eyes and lightly smacked his shoulder, and when Hawks put an arm around her before pulling her in to nuzzle her neck, she giggled. "Awww, someone's extra affectionate today," she teased. He ran his hands up and down her sides while she leaned further against him. "Something get you 'riled up' at work?"

"Not at work," Hawks replied with a smile against her skin as he squeezed one of her breasts and heard her moan softly. "I'm just eager to see what new skill ya wanted to show off for me."

____ smiled and turned around to face him, crawling up to settle in his lap while she played with his soft blond hair and subtly grind against him. "Welllll," she drawled, "I've never really trained my gag reflex before, but I've always wanted to try deepthroating. So I figured I could learn how by trying out popsicles! That way even if I have trouble at first, the ice would make me more numb and still make it easier." She proudly put her hands on her hips. "Am I a genius or what?"

Hawks snorted at just how triumphant she looked and nodded, running his hands over her thighs and squeezing the curve of her ass as he rocked slightly against her. "Damn right you are," he replied playfully. "You're like the Sun Tzu of sucking cock."

____ laughed and bent down to give him one more heated kiss before shimmying off of his lap to kneel in front of him, unzipping his pants. "Let's see how much you'll be joking around once I put my skills to the test," she said smugly, her voice lower and more husky as she licked her lips eagerly. "I bet I can make you cum so hard, your wings'll start shaking from how good I feel around your cock."

Hawks bit his lip, relishing in her dirty talk while she pulled his pants and boxers down his thighs. His cock sprang out once it was freed, and the sight of its head glistening with a bit of precum made ____'s mouth water. She smiled mischievously at him, gently grasping his shaft with one hand and lapping at the head with the tip of her tongue. Hawks groaned softly and ran his hands through her hair; he loved it whenever she teased him like this, giving his cock plenty of attention and praise while intentionally drawing it all out. Sometimes it felt more like torture than simple teasing with how much she kissed and gently caressed his length with her tongue, waiting until the last possible moment to give him some reprieve and finally take his entire length into her mouth.

____'s mouth was still cold from the popsicles, and as she enveloped more and more of Hawks's dick she saw him shiver from the temperature difference. Wanting to warm him up a bit, she built up a bit of saliva on her tongue and hollowed out her cheeks as she swallowed up more and more of his length; the slow fade from a slight chill around her lips to a pleasurable wet warmth made Hawks moan again, and his grip on her hair tightened a bit.

Her light sighs and whimpers sent soft vibrations through his entire cock, and he moved in his seat on the couch to get a better grip on the back of her head with both hands. "You--ah, fuck--ready to take all of me, baby?" He brushed a strand of hair behind her ear and gently rubbed her cheek as she looked up at him eagerly. She let out a muffled "uh-huh" that sent another shiver up Hawks's spine; she was so cute when she was like this, submissive and oh-so eager to please him with that pretty mouth .

He held the back of her head and immediately shoved his cock further and further into her mouth, burying himself all the way inside of her with one swift stroke of his hips. She let out a sharp inhale through her nose as she felt the tip graze the back of her throat, and when she tried to swallow as best as she could, the two of them groaned in unison.

Her tight, wet walls squeezed and contracted around his cock like a vice, and the moment he felt her try to swallow he lost his sense of control completely. He moved her head back and forth as he thrust into her mouth over and over, sighing with pleasure every time the tip of his cock hit that velvety sweet spot in the back of her throat. Her moans were barely able to come out of her mouth as he shoved her further and further against him until her nose was buried against the scruff of blond hair around his navel. Tears pricked at the corner of her eyes, not from pain or fear, but a simple instinctive response from her body at this sudden unfamiliar intrusion; even with some training and ice to numb her throat, her gag reflex was still unused to receiving this kind of attention.

Hawks didn't slow down his pace, but he did quickly move his hands to grab hers and place them against his hips. He positioned her head again, and a thin sheen of sweat was starting to form on his forehead and his reddened cheeks. "T-tap me twice if it's too much," he stammered, bucking his hips as he felt the aching feeling of pleasure and pressure growing closer and closer to its peak. "God, you're so good at taking my cock…Using that slutty little mouth to make me feel so fucking good…"

His balls smacked against ____'s chin over and over as he went faster, and his wings started to flutter a bit behind him as his voice became more and more strained. He felt her fingernails dig into the curve of his ass, but even as she struggled to breathe through her nose and fight back the welled-up tears in her eyes, she stubbornly refused to tap out. He looked down at her with half-lidded eyes and tapped the back of her head with his thumb to get her attention. When she looked up at him with those shining, adoring eyes, the corners of his lips turned up into a satisfied smile as he let out a small birdlike coo from the back of his throat. "You--f-fuck, you're tight...Heh, you like being told how good you are at taking my dick? You want me to cum all the way down your throat, baby?"

____ did her best to try and nod, squeezing his ass once again. He knew just how much she loved being praised during sex, and seeing her try to tell him "yes" as best as she could with his cock ravaging her mouth pushed him over the edge. His wings unfurled and stretched out behind him, stiffening as he came and sheathed himself inside of her as far as possible with a sharp cry. The shallow air from her nose fanned against his public hair, and a thin milky-white stream of semen and saliva trickled from her lips and down one of his balls. ____ felt his thick cum slide down her throat, completely eliminating any trace of the cold from earlier as she was enveloped by a feeling of warmth.

When the ringing in his ears died down, along with the throbbing sensation of his cock inside of her, he sank back against the couch and let his arms fall limply to his sides. His wings slowly relaxed and folded back, and he stared up at the ceiling with a content, lazy smile on his face as he panted. The sound of ____ as she swallowed the last vestiges of his cum and taking gulps of air now that she was able to breathe freely again pulled him back to reality, and he did his best to lean over and help her up onto the couch again. She immediately curled up against him, still breathing heavily as she rested her head in the crook of his neck and placed one of her palms on his chest. The two of them lay there for a minute or so, silently enjoying the hazy comfort that came after a fun-yet-intense bout of sex.

____ was the first to speak up, tilting her head to look up at him. "So…" She smirked and playfully traced shapes into his skin with her fingers. "Should we add popsicles to the grocery list from now on?"

Hawks let out a breathy chuckle and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer against him before kissing her temple. "Definitely."

#bnha #bnha scenario #hawks #takami keigo #ns.fw #female s/o #mine

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cuddlepilefics · 4 years ago

Text

10. Christmas Shopping

@yooniestummy because we all stan Hyunjin’s long hair....

Fandom: Stray Kids

Sickie: Hyunjin

Caregiver: Chan and Jisung

Hyunjin‘s POV.:

I woke up hot and sweaty this morning, my sheets stuck to my back and my head started pounding when I sat up. For some reason, I was the last to wake up. We had no official schedule for today so we had planned to go Christmas shopping as a group. I already had most of my presents wrapped and hidden underneath my bed but I still had to find something for Minho and Jeongin. Joining my group for breakfast, I decided to just have some fruit as I didn‘t really have an appetite but knew I couldn‘t just skip breakfast. My members were discussing loudly which stores they wanted to visit but I didn‘t really care because I didn‘t even have an idea what I wanted to buy. I was only planning to look around and wait for something to catch my eye. Watching the others get overly excited for their shopping trip, I put my plate in the sink and went to get ready. Somehow the excitement failed to grasp me as it usually did and I would have preferred to stay home but I couldn‘t let them down in the last minute just because I wasn‘t in the mood. I must have been deep in thought while brushing my teeth because I hit a spot too far back which made me gag, startling me. I tried to bring my focus back to what I was doing but my brain was fuzzy and I kept losing my trains of thought. I walked back to my room and picked out some very thick and warm clothes. In contrast to how I woke up, I felt freezing now and the goosebumps just didn‘t go away. I shivered as I took my pajama off and tried to get my jeans and hoodie on as fast as possible. While I pulled the hoodie over my head, a dizzy spell hit me, forcing me to sit down on my bed as I waited for the ringing in my ears to pass.

Dressed in a few more layers then originally planned, I met my members at the door ready to head out. Chan had called for a driver that‘d take us to the mall and we all piled into the vehicle. The ride seemed to take forever and I rested my aching head against the window. The headache I had woken up with only seemed to be getting worse and I was glad I hadn‘t tied up my hair as the pull of an elastic would only increase the pain. I must have been too quiet because I felt a nudge against my knee, looking up to meet Seungmin‘s smile. Smiling back quietly, I opted for resting my head on his shoulder instead of the window. “Everything ok?“, he whispered, running a hand through my long hair. “Mhm, just not completely awake yet and my head hurts a bit“, I hummed, leaning further into him as he kept petting my hair. I didn‘t remember the route to the mall to be this curvy but I soon needed to pick up my head from Seungmin‘s shoulder to look out of the window in an attempt to keep my stomach in place. Usually I didn‘t get motion sick but I guess combined with the headache, the streets didn‘t do me well. Seungmin watched me confused but I reassured him with a smile that everything was fine.

It wasn‘t, however. I had expected for the nausea to fade after leaving the car and for a while it did. Not fully though, instead it settled into a dull, constant ache. We were walking around together and I really only tagged along, following my members wherever they wanted to go. I was to tired to object and with the pain in my head and stomach, I also didn‘t want to go anywhere but home. Of course, I didn‘t speak up though. We haven‘t even been here that long and everyone had been looking forward to this trip, so who was I to kill the mood. Not being able to agree on which stores to visit, we soon split up into smaller groups, me joining Chan and Jisung. They mostly wanted to visit different music stores and I didn‘t mind. Replying that I didn‘t care every time they asked me where I wanted to go, the two kept exchanging suspicious glances, not commenting though. I was practically asleep on my feet and it took Chan three attempts at calling my name to catch my attention. “Sorry, kinda spaced out“, I replied, scratching my head awkwardly. “You‘re acting weirder than usual and already have all morning“, Jisung frowned, trying to cover his concern with a tease. Chan agreed and seeing the sympathetic look on his face, I couldn‘t keep quiet anymore. “Sorry, I woke up with a bit of a headache and it only got worse. Now my stomach also started hurting and I feel weird“, I mumbled, trying to keep of crying as admitting to my symptoms only made me notice them more. Chan frowned and guided me to sit on a bench nearby. Jisung sat down next to me wrapping his arms around me comfortingly as I broke into tears. “I-I didn‘t w-want to ruin t-this trip because everyone was l-looking forward to it s-so much and n-now I did a-anyways“, I hiccuped, bringing my hands up to my face to wipe the tears that just wouldn‘t stop falling. “You didn‘t ruin anything, you really could‘ve told us you weren‘t feeling alright and you could‘ve stayed home“, Chan sighed as Jisung handed me a tissue. “Wasn‘t s-so bad earlier“, I whimpered almost too quiet to be heard. Crouching in front of me, Chan squeezed my knee and promised he‘d go get some water, while Jisung would sit with me.

Jisung‘s POV.:

While Chan left, I kept Hyunjin company, trying to calm him down a bit. I knew the tears were not only from guilt and embarrassment. The pain must have been worse than he let on and finally taking in the full sight in front of me, I noticed the dark circles under the dancer‘s eyes, that stood out against his pale complexion which he tried to hide behind a mask. “How about we take this off for a while? Maybe the fresh air will help your head“, I hummed, removing the mask dampened with tears. He had stopped crying and was really quiet now. I figured he had just calmed down and was tired till he wrapped his arms around his stomach whimpering. “I d-don‘t feel so good“, he moaned, scooting closer to the side of the bench where there was a trash can beside it. His face had paled even more and I could only guess what‘d happen next. I just wished Chan would hurry. Scooting closer to the dancer, I rubbed his back soothingly, applying enough pressure so he‘d feel it through his thick coat, and instructing him to take deep breaths through his nose. However, it didn‘t solve the problem and only delayed the inevitable. With barely any warning, the thin boy bend over the trash can, immediately bringing up part of his breakfast. I quickly recovered from my shock and pulled his long, blonde hair out of his face, gathering it at the back of his head. With one hand I kept holding on to his hair, using the other to rub his back, while telling him he‘d be ok and all of this would be over soon.

After a shaky inhale, which triggered a dry gag, his breathing hitched and soon turned into quiet sobs. “You‘re really not feeling well, hm?“, I hummed rhetorically and he shook his head, retching hard afterwards. So hard that a few strands of hair escaped my grip. Luckily nothing came up and I quickly tucked the strands back again. Trying to hold his hair securely yet not tight enough to worsen his headache, I let my hand follow his head as he coughed, triggering another rush of semi-digested food to pass his lips. The guy barely got a breath in before his body convulsed again, sending him to choke on his stomach contents. I panicked a bit, using my free hand to pat him between the shoulderblades rather harshly till he was able to stop coughing and catch his breath again. Not having had much for breakfast, he was soon reduced to dry heaves and I was glad to see Chan rounding the corner. Seeing our position next to the trash can, the leader quickened his pace, jogging over to us.

At this point, Hyunjin had slumped over, hugging his stomach and accepting the fact that nothing else would come up. His cries had turned into weak sniffles and I gently pulled him back to lean against me. Chan quickly uncapped the bottle of water he had bought, holding it out to the dancer who mainly just rinsed his mouth, handing it back after one tentative sip. The strain of throwing up had wiped all of his energy and he was dozing off on my shoulder. “Hyung, could you call us a driver to bring us home while I text the others? They can just call a driver later when they are done, while we take the sickie over here home“, I asked, running a hand through Hyunjin‘s hair. “You don‘t have to come home with me. I‘m ok, I can go back alone. I don‘t want you to be forced home early just because I have a tummy ache“, said sickie mumbled pitifully, keeping his eyes closed. “Jinnie, it‘s not just a tummy ache, you threw up, your head hurts and with how you‘re sweating I bet you have a fever too. Besides, I absolutely don‘t mind going back to the dorm with you. I can easily do the rest of my shopping another time“, I assured, watching Chan talk on his phone. “A driver will be here soon. How are you holding up Jinnie?“, the leader asked, pressing the back of his fingers against the younger‘s forehead. “Still don‘t feel too great“, he whined. “Mhm, you have a fever too, so it‘s probably some kind of stomach bug. Let‘s just get you home and to bed“, the leader sighed, earning a defeated nod.

By the time we got into the car, Hyunjin was shivering violently. With chattering teeth he complained how cold he felt and I felt my heart break. Despite worrying about raising his fever, I took off my coat, covering him and tucking it into his seatbelt so it wouldn‘t slip. “Jinnie, if you feel sick during the drive use this, ok?“, Chan instructed, pressing a plastic shopping bag into the dancer‘s hand before buckling himself up. With the chills subsiding in the warmth of the car, the young idol was quickly knocked out, sleeping through the entire ride without incidents. Waking up slowly as I unbuckled his seatbelt, Hyunjin let Chan carry him from the garage to the dorm, I had gone ahead to unlock the door for them. The leader put him to the ground in the hallway so the dancer could kick off his shoes and shrug out of his coat with Chan and me holding him by the shoulders so he wouldn’t fall over. Barely pulling his arms from the coat, he suddenly tore free from our grip, rushing to the bathroom, almost tripping himself on the way there. Quick to remove his shoes, Chan ran after him while I hung up our coats and grabbed a water bottle from the kitchen.

Chan’s POV.:

I found my dongsaeng kneeling in front of the toilet, head resting on his crossed arms over the empty bowl. Apparently, nothing had come up so far. With his hair falling into his face, I struggled to see whether he was crying. Not liking the way his hair was dangling into the bowl, I quickly pulled an elastic from the bathroom cabinet, tying it up messily as I have no experience with long hair. I was done just in time for the dancer to dip his head down with a harsh retch, only bringing up a thin trickle of stomach acid. I knelt behind him, rubbing his back as he fought to bring something up despite being empty from his session earlier. Soon it was hard to tell sob and gag apart, only interrupted by whimpers of pain. Jisung had joined us at some point. He had brought a water bottle and wet a small towel under the tap which he spread across Hyunjin’s neck, before sitting on the bathtub next to the sick idol.

Getting a break from gagging for a while the dancer collapsed back against me, tears of pain, sickness and physical strain streaming down his face while he clutched his head. “Jinnie, is the hairtie making your headache worse?”, I asked, while Jisung moved the damp towel to dab away the sweat and tears. “If you think you’re done we can remove it”, I hushed, already fiddling with the elastic before getting a shaky reply: “N-Not sure, f-for now m-maybe…” That was enough of an answer for me to fully pull the elastic from his hair, running my fingers trough it to smooth it out.

Uncapping the water bottle, Jisung let the other rinse his mouth a few times before encouraging him to at least have a few sips. “Jinnie, you’ll get dehydrated”, I sighed, resulting in a whimper from my dongsaeng: “Hyung, I-I don’t want to throw up again.” – “Hey, if this is a stomach bug, you most likely will and if you have something in you, it at least won’t hurt as much”, Jisung hushed, adding: “I know it sucks.” When the dancer whined, raising the bottle to his lips again because he knew it was true.

We had been sitting there for a while, waiting for Hyunjin’s stomach to settle enough for him to move. I was just about to offer helping him to bed when the sickie threw himself over the bowl again, expelling the little water he had had before. Cursing inwardly for removing the hairtie, I quickly combed his hair back with my fingers, holding it there while trying to reduce the pull on his scalp. Luckily, the spell passed soon and Jisung left first to set up a bucket next to the dancer’s bed. I helped my exhausted dongsaeng stand before picking him up and carrying him to his room. Covering him with an additional blanket the quell the chills that had started up again, Jisung sat resting his back against the headboard of Hyunjin’s bed, allowing the ailing boy to rest his head on his thigh. Seeing that Jisung had got it handled, I slipped out of the room to start making some plain rice porridge for later, as it was what I considered safest to eat with stomach troubles.

Noone’s POV.:

Nodding off with his head in Jisung’s lap, Hyunjin fell asleep to the younger playing with his hair. “Rest well, hyung. I don’t want you to hurt anymore”, being the last thing he heard as the exhaustion pulled him under.

#sickfic #sick #emeto #fanfic #skz #stray kids #christmas #hwang hyunjin #bang chan #han jisung

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shra-vasti · 4 years ago

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Without you

Pairing : Hong Joshua x reader

Type : Soulmate au, idol au

Genre : angst to fluff

Warnings : initial denial of the soulmate bond to not hurt someone special

Word count : 5.3k

Soulmate au type : In which two soulmates are connected through red string of fate and they can feel the tugging of the string when their soulmate is under 50 meters radar.

It was snowing softly when he first saw you, clutching your fist tightly cause the gloves didn't provide enough warmth to your body. Maybe that's the reason you didn't felt the tug at your left finger where the red string was attached but Joshua did. As soon as he felt the tug he snap his head in your direction, his heart beating loudly.

There you were in your dull red long coat and a matching red beanie, black jeans and snowboots. Your hair were loose and mini snowflakes adorn on your hair like the lightening on Christmas tree. You were breathtaking he concluded. Never once in his life he felt such a strong impact of someone but then again, he was fated with you, there was a reason you were his soulmate.

He smiled at your annoyed expression, how you complained your friend and stomp your feet, you may have stomp on his heart with that too but he would never tell you. He saw you walking upto the bus and hoping upon it. He didn't make an effort to approach you. He just stood there, his heart beating loudly as he saw you going further away till he couldn't feel the tug anymore but that wasn't a problem.

You were breathtakingly beautiful and he knew he would never forget your face ever cause now it was etched right on his heart and he knew he would recognize you even if you were in the middle of crowd.

Two delicate hands cup his face diverting his direction away from you. His eyes were met with a confused ones silently asking him where his attention was. He shook his head as he put a strand of her hair away from her face and smiled at her.

"Nothing. I just thought I saw someone familiar but I was wrong." he smiled at her. He couldn't just tell her he saw his soulmate, not when he knew it would break her apart. She still looked at him, a bit skeptical which made him chuckle to avoid the awkwardness building inside him. He felt like he was being caught doing something he was banned from.

"Are you sure? When I was coming out of the shop I saw you staring at the same place for a long time." She definitely saw him staring longingly at something or she was just being delusional. How wouldn't she when she knew he wasn't hers in first place.

"Haeun it's really nothing okay. I was just thinking at that time. Let me drop you home." he held her hand as he guided her towards her home. The walk was silent as compared to the other walks they have taken together. Both of them had some or the other thing occupying their mind.

"Will you stay the night?" Haeun asked not sure about his answer as she hugged him goodbye, it was worth a try though.

"I've a schedule in the morning." he smiled apologetically at her as he ruffled her hair when she pouted. "I can stop for an hour or so though." her face lit up after hearing those words from his mouth. He was always so busy with his schedules that even an hour more was more than enough to make her this happy. She pulled his hands and dragged him inside her house.

Haeun was preparing food for both of them since she insisted that it was getting late and she knew he would skip the meal to rest more. Joshua watched her from the door frame before making his way towards the counter opposite to where she was working.

He took in her form, how she softly hummed her favorite song while doing cooking, how she would hop to get things far away from her reach, how she had a habit of blowing her hairs out of her face. He adorn her with all of his heart and then his eyes landed on the permanent black band on her forearm and his smile faded.

She was one of Minghao's close friend and that's how Joshua met her. He enjoyed her company and so did she, it wasn't far enough when they started dating, Minghao was reluctant at first about the whole dating thing not because he didn't support two of his close friend but because Joshua was bound to someone else and Haeun wouldn't ever be able to meet the person she was bound to cause he died even before she could meet him.

She was one close friend Minghao had aside from his idol life and he tried to talk it out but Joshua and Haeun already started growing more fond of each other to even make sense out of Minghao's talking. Joshua genuinely felt for her and he cared about her a lot. No one knew her more better than him which made Minghao step back and let the two do whatever they wanted.

Joshua was the kind of person who would let his feelings take control of him and don't think of the long run and that's why he wasn't sure how to feel about you now that you kind of came into his life. He knew universe would make you two cross paths till you actually meet and he didn't know how to feel about that.

He promised Haeun that he will be there for her forever and he would always dodged her question about his soulmate so he didn't actually have to answer her and always went on with the classic 'they aren't in my life and we will see about it afterward'. He was a coward he knew but he was so sure that he was going to be in Haeun's life forever until he saw you and now he saw you everywhere.

Unconsciously he would imagine how it would be like if you were cooking meals for him instead of Haeun or how you would laugh at his jokes instead of Haeun. The idea itself seemed so endearing for him but it broke his heart at the same time. Someone was going to get hurt in the end and he didn't have the guts to break Haeun after all she has been in her life. But you didn't deserve the heartbreak too. You may have look up to being with your soulmate since the time you got your mark and it wasn't your fault it was him.

He totally blamed himself and his spontaneous life decisions. He blamed himself for always going with the flow instead of thinking it through. He blamed himself for not listening to Minghao and this all things came into his mind after only staring at you for like 5 minutes. He wasn't sure how much his heart was gonna betray him if you actually come and talk with him.

"Why are you staring at me like that?" her question made him startled since he was zoned out and she laughed at him. He laughed with her and help her with the serving as they began eating. He can always think about the outcome afterwards.

"When will you be free next time?" Haeun asked as she waved goodbye to Joshua after the dinner.

"Maybe after two or three weeks I'm not sure of the schedule. I'll let you know." he smiled as he got in the car waiting for him infront of her doorstep.

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Seoul was treating you way better than you had imagine. It's been a little more than a year since you came to Korea as an intern and the life was pretty amazing considering you always wanted to be independent. Seoul wasn't new for you, some of your friends worked here and you had compeleted your high school here before going overseas for the college.

This wasn't your first winter here but it was late winter inclining more towards spring when you first put your foot in Seoul, so now that you were experiencing the winter form the start, you realised how magical it was.

You got up from your bed keeping the track of time. You were going to meet one of your high-school friend whom you met during the time you were returning from your workshop. It's been a while since you last contacted her but you did remember her as someone whom you were really close with during your high school time. She helped you in adjusting a lot and made high-school easier for you.

Generally you didn't like people of your past inviting themselves in your present cause you always wanted to have a totally different lifestyle without caring of your past. You kept only selective people in your life and other were just some part of your past which you wanted to keep the same forever. But she wasn't someone you would cut off from. She had done a lot for you to do that. And you both knew each other better but busy college life forced you two to separate but you were happy to finally meet her.

You had been spending the last week with her and she told you a lot about her current life, her work, her new hobbies, her boyfriend everything and it made you really happy that she found someone for her. When you were in high school and you got your soulmark she was devastated to find out her soulmate was dead and it was really hard to handle her at that time but with time she just accepted that fact preaching that she was happy that at least one among you two was going to have their happy ending.

Your phone rang from your nightstand and you took a leap to dive towards it and smiled when her name popped up, Jung Haeun, before you could pick up the call she hung up. You were going to call her back when you noticed she had left a message for you which you didn't read and maybe that's why she missed call you.

"Sorry babe, I'll be running late since I don't have a ride so if you don't mind will you come pick me up at the central building. I'm here with my boyfriend, I'll introduce him to you at the same time. Whatcha say?"

You replied a quick yes to her and that you'll be there in 30 minutes and got up from the bed to get dress and head out. You were just planning to wear your jeans and jacket and go but now that she was introducing her boyfriend to you the least you could do was look presentable you thought. And got out of the house towards where Haeun was.

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You parked your car, taking your purse and sliding it up on your shoulder you got out of the car and locked it. You sighed calming your nerves, you had social anxiety and meeting even a single new person was a great task for you. Haeun was going to be there and she knows about it so it will be fine, you muttered to no one in particular.

You started walking towards the building, glancing a bit here and there to see if Haeun was around or even a mere silhouette of a girl with a boy beside her. You were looking straight as you felt a tug on your left ring finger making you stop abruptly in your spot. It was the first time you had felt the tug and your breathe hitched. You spun around on your heels towards the direction of the tug and you saw a boy around 5'10 height head towards your direction with his eyes locked on his left hand and his other hand holding a water bottle.

Sweat started forming on your hands and forehead, you didn't know what to do at this point, the thought of meeting Haeun and her boyfriend being completely abandoned from your head as your feet started moving in his direction. He looked up finally locking his eyes with your. His eyes widened, he wasn't expecting to meet you here out of all the places and times. You smiled at him wanting to take another step towards him when Haeun's voice called your name.

Your eyes followed her as she appeared from behind the boy locking her hand in one of his arm and smiling at him. She left his hands and walked towards you stepping in front of you to engulf you in a tight hug. You smiled at her, confusion laced on your face as you hug her back as tightly as possible.

You look towards the boy again as you gently rub circle on your ring finger with your thumb a habit you had picked on since the time you got that string attached on your finger, you gulped as you faintly assumed that your soulmate was Haeun's boyfriend, you wanted that to be false. You pulled the string to make sure you didn't assume someone else as your soulmate. Maybe you had a misunderstanding, but all of your doubts vanished when you saw his left hand's ring finger moving along with the pull.

"You are right on time." Haeun smiled as she let go off you, holding your hand as she dragged you towards him, finally introducing you two. "And this is Hong Jisoo or you can call him Joshua."

You smiled awkwardly at him, your throat suddenly dry and all the words jumbling inside your head as you blanking took in what's happening. You felt Haeun nudge you startling you a bit as you saw his extended hand. You gulped before reaching forward to held his hand in a firm handshake biting your lips slightly due to the wild emotions you were currently feeling.

"Excuse her, she' gets a little awkward while meeting new people but once you know her she's a sunshine." Haeun laughed proceeding to tell him about how you two became friends. You three were currently inside a cafe which wasn't crowded at all.

"Yah you two aren't talking much, why am I the only one talking?" Haeun complained crossing her arms across her chest and glared at both of you. How were you supposed to be all happy when you find out your soulmate was dating your one of the closest friend whom you cared about the most and from the stories you have heard about her, he didn't have any plan of leaving her.

"Well that's because you are the common ground here so you have to do the most talking." you smiled at her as you put both of your hands on your lap and clutch them tightly together. How were you supposed to get through this. The whole meeting was nothing but awkward. After sometime even Haeun could tell the tension between you and Joshua hadn't faded even though she thought it would as the time goes on. Joshua's face was full of guilt/ sympathy or a mix of both you couldn't tell.

Haeun told you how she met him and everything else which she didn't tell in the last one week. She informed you about him being an idol and told you to be cautious while spilling his name in front of anyone else. "She's the only one aside from Minghao whom I trust the most and I'm sure she will never do anything which will put your career or me in danger." she explained Joshua referring about you keeping their relationship as a secret. He nodded at her and smiled in your direction. You looked towards your empty plate silently praying for this to get over soon since you could feel your emotions taking a toll on you.

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"Shua Hyung, are you even listening?" Soonyoung asked as he look towards Joshua from the mirror of their dance practice room. Joshua locked his eyes with the younger one who was clearly frustrated with his lack of attention during the practice.

"Is something bothering you or what, you seemed to be losing your focus more from these past weeks. You keep on zoning out." Jeonghan said referring to the countless of time Chan had to separately teach him some moves because he couldn't remember due to him zoning out.

"I'm sorry. I will make sure this won't happen again." Joshua replied as he sighed.

"I think we should call it a day and practice tomorrow. I'm tired and it will be great for Shua too rest for sometime. I think he has a lot in his mind right now." Seungcheol said with everyone nodding and retrieving back to get their things and head towards their dorm room.

Minghao looked at Joshua as he packed his bag, his mind wondering if anything had happened in between Joshua and Haeun. They aren't the one to fight, they always talk their problems out and Joshua was never the one to lose his focus during their practices unlike now.

"Are things getting wrong with Haeun?" Minghao asked as both of them stopped and asked the other members to go ahead. The older just sighed, feeling quite a burden on his shoulders as he stood in front of Minghao. The younger had stopped him countless of time telling him to not get so close with his friend cause he knew well that if Joshua's soulmate would make an appearance someone would eventually get hurt. But Joshua didn't listen and he wasn't sure how he was going to tell anyone about the whole thing particularly to Minghao.

"Are you just going to keep on sighing and not say anything?" Minghao asked getting frustrated that Joshua only kept on avoiding having eye contact with him.

"I don't know how to say." Joshua said as he finally shot his head up, biting his lips and internally trying to form a correct way to let the things inside him out. He knew he had to tell someone and have their advice otherwise he would get crazy bottling up his feelings like that. He decided to tell everything to Minghao. He seems to be the right one given that he was the one to knock some sense into him from the starting.

"Just say it. There's always a solution to every problem."

Minghao took in the way Joshua was getting more nervous the more he got closer to explain. At other times Joshua would just come and rant about his problem and get done with it. Did he do something so terrible that he can't say anything about it? It wasn't like Joshua.

"Did you perhaps met your soulmate?" the question left Minghao's mouth even before he could think about it shocking both himself and Joshua. But the former didn't even need an answer to confrim as Joshua look down towards his feet, his shoulders slumping down.

"I'm sorry." were the only word that left his mouth as he look towards Minghao. Joshua didn't know how Minghao was going to react. He knew that the younger one was going to be very angry. But he couldn't lie to him, he was not only his friend but a family too.

"Why are you apologising me? I told you this was going to happen. Did you tell Haeun about this?" there wasn't any point in getting angry, it would require too much stress and energy and Minghao knew better than letting anger take a toll on himself.

"I didn't. How can I? I don't want to hurt her after all she has gone through but I can't get the hurt clearly evident in my soulmate's eyes when she found out I'm dating Haeun. And Haeun doesn't have the slightest idea about it." Joshua sighed for the umpteenth time.

"Wait. Your soulmate knows you are dating Haeun? When did all of this escalated so quickly? You found your soulmate and she knew about your relationship even when you are an idol and your relationship is kept a secret?"

"No. Actually I saw her few weeks ago for the first time but I was with Haeun and I didn't even think of making an effort to approach her. Then after I drop Haeun home she asked when I have my next schedule and I told her about it." Joshua spoke eyeing Minghao from time to time. Minghao just motioned him to finish his whole story.

"The next day she informed about meeting with her high school friend who was with her during the time she found out about her soulmate's death. She told me so much about her so I asked her if I could meet her since she played such a big role in her life and surprisingly she said that she would like if we both met and we did. But it turned out that her close friend was my soulmate."

Joshua finished as Minghao just blinked, his brain taking a while to process the information. "She didn't utter anything about her being your soulmate to Haeun?" he asked. Joshua shook his head.

"She knows Haeun's situation and they were pretty close. She didn't even make an effort to even show that I was her soulmate. She just sat there blankly but we had a brief moment before Haeun showed up and I knew she was more than happy to finally find her soulmate before Haeun me as her boy friend and I never once in my life felt so bad about myself."

Minghao nodded, it was no one's fault. Even if he tried, how was his Hyung going to get out of this situation he didn't know.

"When are you going to tell Haeun about her? You soon have to break up with her."

"I'm not going to tell her about this."

Minghao groaned, exactly what was going on Joshua's mind to even say that. "So you are going to date your soulmate behind her back?" Minghao's question threw him off guard as Joshua shook his head vigorously.

"See my soulmate is already very hurt and although this is going to be painful for both of us, she is already hurt. Both of us can't afford to hurt Haeun. I'm sure she will understand my decision. I've promised Haeun I'll be with her. I'm going to keep my words. I know this is impulsive and I don't know what will happen in the future but I care too much for Haeun to hurt her. Someone was going to get hurt because of me in the end, it just wasn't confirmed who but since my soulmate is already hurt then I'll let that be."

"You can't do that with her. You can't hurt her. I'll not allow you to do so." Minghao and Joshua's eyes widened as they took in the site of Haeun standing near their practice room's door which was opened fully. The members must have left it just like that.

"How long were present?" Joshua asked as Haeun took long steps to come near the two boys who were deeply discussing.

"Long enough to know what's the fuss is all about." Haeun replied as she wiped her tears away. She was heartbroken but she knew this day would come and although she had been mentally preparing herself for this day it still hurt like hell. But you didn't deserve what Joshua planning to give you. She didn't want to be selfish and steal away your share of happiness. She remembered about the things you did for her and she thought of this as a payback of all the things you had done for her. Joshua wasn't her in the first place but she was going to make sure that you not end up like her.

"Haeun listen, I know all of this is effecting you negatively and I know she's your friend but we will get through it okay. I'm not leaving you. I swear you don't have to worry." Joshua said as he cupped her cheeks. Haeun shook her head clearly in denial.

"You are once again being impulsive Joshua. Why don't you just sit down and think through about the situation than going with the flow. I want you to think of yourself and your happiness for once."

At this rate both of them had started crying and Minghao excused himself informing both of them that he will head to the dorms as he felt like he was invading their privacy.

"Haeun I can't hurt you. I promised you I will keep you happy."

"Joshua listen to me......"

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You were leaned against your kitchen counter as you waited for the water to boil. The countless days of crying left your throat sore. The emotional pain you were going through was actually starting to physically hurt you to the point you even search if people could die from a heartbreak.

You called in sick and the company you were currently working for allowed you to have some rest. At least the universe was letting you mourn properly. Your friends and Haeun did contact you but you just declined all of that saying you just needed some time alone.

You let the water cool down a bit before drinking it, immediately wincing at the sensation it created when you drink it. You got out of kitchen and headed towards your bed again. You had been inside the house for so long that even your own bedroom started to feel a little too boring for your like.

You plopped yourself lazyly on your stomach holding the pillow close to you as you let your mind wonder. Haeun looked so in love. You never once imagined you will meet your soulmate in such circumstances. He didn't try to contact you after what happened, may his love for Haeun was more than your bond. It wasn't his fault that he was bound to you, he had the right to reject you as his soulmate but that would happen only if both of you genuinely wanted to break the bond and you knew you were far from rejecting him.

Within these days thanks to your curious nature you found out more about him and his group. His music and voice was enough to calm your heart at the same time hurting you because you knew it belonged to someone else.

You couldn't imagine yourself being selfish enough to hurt Haeun and steal Joshua from her, if Joshua even wanted to be with you. You really wanted Haeun to be happy and she was. How will she react if she finds out her boyfriend is your soulmate? Will she be selfish and be with him still? Or talk it out with him to get back to you?

Fate had its own way and if you were fated with him, there was a reason to it. Maybe at the end of the road if you wait enough for him, he will come back to you?

Your thoughts were interrupted back as the ringing of your doorbell filled your ears. Your ring finger felt the tuck but you weren't sure about it. He couldn't be here not when he didn't want to show himself up after your meet. You weren't expecting anyone at this hour but you found yourself heading towards the door anyway. The bell rang again making you frustrated as you open the door without looking at the peephole.

"Joshua..." you looked at him, you weren't expecting him to even show up at your door step. He didn't even know your number. But before you could ask him to come inside the house he stepped in front of you stopping you mid sentence as he circled his one arm around you closing the door with his other.

You put your hands on his shoulder, unable to keep up your balance as he abruptly came so close to you. Bringing his other hand, he placed it on your nape taking a deep breath in leaned in pressing his lips on yours. Your eyes widened and you stood there stiff.

You felt his hand rub your back up and down to calm your nerves and he sighed in relief when he felt you visibly relax under him, finally kissing him back. The kiss was gentle both of you just enjoying the feeling of it. You didn't know what was happening but you didn't mind being this close with him. You didn't know if you ever were going to be this close to him so even if right now he was out of his mind, you mind didn't mind savoring this moment. You encircled your arms around his neck pulling him more closely.

He groaned but pulled away from the kiss, breathlessly looking at you. He removed the strands of hair out of your face before pecking your lips lightly.

You studied his face, he looked tired. His dark circle prominent and he was sweaty. His eyes were blood shot red, he was crying cause after crying for days you knew how the eyes looked like. You were sure yours weren't any different than his.

"Why are you here?" the question wasn't supposed to be this rude for the listener but you found yourself wincing at your own tone. "I didn't mean it in a rude way." you quickly added as you pushed yourself away from him.

"Am I not supposed to be here?" he asked tilting his head to the side and raise his eyebrows at you.

"It isn't like that." you said a bit too quickly for your liking and look away in embarrassment when you heard him chuckle.

"I'm here because of you, for you." he replied immediately looking down as you faced him. He knew he would once again kiss you senseless if he stared in your direction for long.

"What about Haeun? Did you tell her about us being soulmates?" us, the word itself sent tingles down his body. He like that us consisted of you and him. He liked the sound of that. No he liked the sound of your voice.

"She came to know about it." he said finally looking up and watching horror painted on your face.

"Then why are you here and not consoling her? Is she okay?" you asked him confused. Was she angry? Did she felt bad? Was she hurt? Were the words you wanted to ask but one at a time you didn't want to bombard him with so many questions.

"Relax. She was the one who helped me to figure out who I want to be with. She was right. I shouldn't get impulsive. When she asked me to be selfish for one time I couldn't even think about anything else than run to you. Without you, I can't imagine anything. Sure we don't know each other that well but I felt like I know you since eternity when you held my hand and I want nothing more than for you to keep on holding it till our last breath."

You smiled as tears ran down your face. It must have been so difficult for her but she still was the same Haeun from high school. He stepped forward engulfing him in a hug. You had him, you were more than happy.

"I'll always be there for you. You can lean on me now." he said as he kissed your forehand and rock you back and forth slowly.

"I'll always be there for you too."

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"It was hard without you, the thoughts of being alone scared me. So I spent my time foolishly, didn't even know how the time way passing. I didn't know anything. Even if it's hard, you don't have to be alone."

177 notes · View notes

di-kut · 4 years ago

Text

Baar Bal Runi: Chapter 6

Series Masterlist

Pairing: The Mandalorian x Force Sensitive!Reader

Words: 4K

Summary: (Body Swap AU) You and the Mandalorian have stopped on Garel, a huge urbanised centre, in order to refuel and restock again. Fears of lurking bounty hunters, your looming shower, and the things you have kept from Mando are making you skittish and jumpy.

Rating: T

A/N: I am so sorry this has taken me SO LONG to do!! Thank you to everyone for being very patient and lovely with me while the chapter whooped my ass. I am going to hell for teasing this shower scene again and not delivering I know. Also guys @adikaofmandalore has made an absolutely gorgeous moodboard for this series here!

Garel reminds you too much of Coruscant.

You stare out the small window, arms folded over the chest plate of the Beskar, watching the speeders curve in layers like winding snakes up into the sky, black shadows against a rich purple sky. Beneath you there’s the yelling of stalls and sounds of droids just off the alley in front of the hotel. The streets are crowded, the walls around you leak with waste from machinery. Distant rock formations loom with the towering of the buildings around you. Everything is tinged purple, or red and blue from the bright artificial lights lining the streets. Beneath you, two floors down on street level, a garbage shoot opens and empties cubes of compressed plastic into a dumpster. You pull the window closed.

Mando watches you from his bed, hit feet crossed at the ankles. Scarf finally removed, in only your tunic and trousers and boots. Hair unbraided, but tucked into his collar to keep the loose strands from getting into his way. The bed is a narrow creaking thing, but the mattress has springs and is stuffed, and feels like heaven after months on the Crest. Your bed is identical, pushed against the opposite wall of the small room. You move to it, decide suddenly against sitting, and pace back to the window.

“It’ll be fine.” Mando’s eyes track your progress across the room.

“There are so many people.”

“Exactly. No one will pick you out in a crowd. Or – or – pick me out.” He frowns. “We just need a refuel, and water. And they accept Imperial credits since – ”

I can’t work. You sigh and pause in your track across the room. You haven’t talked about it, not exactly. Haven’t talked about what will happen when the credits run out, but you can’t live forever without one of you picking up a job. You resist the urge to take the helmet off, know you still have to make your way back through the crowds to the ship, collect your packs for the nights you had rented rooms, had access to facilities to mend and wash your things. It had been months since you had anything other than just the inside of the Crest or a tiny trading dock on some backwash planet. You should be excited, but –

“What’s wrong?” Mando says.

“It’s… nothing.”

He can’t see your eyes, but unnervingly seems to sense where they have drifted, and his line of sight follows yours to the closed door of the ‘fresher. You hadn’t been able to rent the cheapest rooms, as you had originally intended, because it would have meant communal showers. Which was not an option. And you were glad, not just for the Creed, but also because you would not have to discover the Mandalorian’s body in a room full of strangers. And he would not have to do the same for you. Your face is so hot you can feel sweat starting to form at your hairline. You should not be worrying about washing, on a planet so bustling and full you have far more to keep your mind occupied. The threat of Bounty Hunters was very real on a planet like Garel, and it was not only you but the kid you should have been worried for. But.

“Are you okay with this?” He asks.

You pull at your glove. Catch the thick seams of the leather between your fingertips. “Yes. No. Not really but… I need to wash. We can’t just not wash.” You admit in a small voice. “Is… is it okay for you? The armour…”

He deflates in a puff of air, sinks into the bed. “I don’t know. But like you said. We can’t not wash.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.” He echoes. Stares down at his hand – your hand – laying flat over his stomach. “Is there… anything we can do? To make it easier.”

You shrug. Feel your leg begin to jump against the ground so you pace again. And Mando watches you carefully from the bed in the corner, letting his eyes drift to follow you about the room.

“Gotabor.” He waits till the helmet turns to look at him. “Whatever I can do, just tell me. I will do it.”

You sigh and finally let yourself sink into your own bed. “I don’t know. Just – just – ” You scratch the your neck under its covering and then the underside of your jaw. Its growing itchy with facial hair, beginning to catch on the fabric and rub at the helmet on the sides of your cheeks. “Nothing. I don’t know.”

“We don’t have to – ”

“No. We need to wash.”

You and the Mandalorian stare at each other, mirrors on your identical beds at opposite ends of the rooms. His face is pinched again, but he otherwise looks so relaxed you would never have guessed he was bothered at all, shoulders propped on the pillow, chest sunken back half against the wall. Completely at odds with his expression. He nods eventually.

There’s a soft, sleepy coo from the cot. It’s hovered in the corner, unsealed, but the child is asleep inside. Rolls over slightly and one of his large ears pokes out of his blankets. But he does not wake, tucks his ear back against his side and makes another quiet noise of contentment. You both stare at the kid, glad to have something to think about that isn’t your impending showers, or each other’s bodies. You needed to get your things before you can shower – can’t bear the thought of having to put the same dirty clothes back on afterwards. The delay is a relief, but also makes the twisting anxious knot in your stomach worse. You aren’t sure what’s worse; knowing you will have the Mandalorian’s body completely exposed to you or knowing yours will be exposed to him.

Mando makes some noise, like he’s clearing his throat. You look over to him, the hand which had been spread over your stomach is curled into a fist. “It’s been almost a month,” he says. “Since – since this.”

“Yeah.”

“Is there… do we need to…” He sighs. “Do you need anything – from a medcenter or…”

“Oh. Oh.” You sit up a little straighter on the bed, glance down at the Mandalorian’s body beneath you before you can stop yourself. Rest your hands against your lower stomach. “No, no I’m – I’m on cycle suppressants, so. So, no.”

He nods slowly. “Okay.”

You agree to leave the child sealed in his crib, and with the door locked behind you. Better than dragging him through the crowded street again. The ship is docked at the nearest bay, not five minutes from the hotel. Your trip will be a quick one. It’s late, by local time, weaning into the early hours of the morning, but the market strip is still as busy as it had been when you’d landed some hours ago. It should take longer than it does to weave through the crowd, but the people melt away from before you when the glint of the Beskar catches their eyes. You walk ahead of the Mandalorian, feel him close in your wake to avoid the bustle of people. Feel the sudden overwhelming frustration and panic which does not belong to you.

You stop dead, feel him slam into your back. He swears in Mando’a and is rubbing his forehead where it had hit your pauldron. Instead of breaking off, you feel his frustration spike, and then melt very quickly into something sharp and calm. He looks around you, the Viroblade he had strapped onto his own belt, somehow appearing in his hand.

“What is it?”

You stare at him. The feeling shifts again, changes quickly, the sharpness fades and melts into concern. A tugging, warm feeling. You see it reflected on his face. See his eyebrows pull up into worry, his eyes searching the visor of the helmet.

“Gotabor?”

“It’s nothing.” Your voice is quiet. Half the syllables too low for the vodocor to pick up and are lost in the sounds of the street around you. You clear your throat. “Nothing. It’s nothing.”

You feel it. He does not believe you. The worry becomes warped, powerful. Fills up your chest and throat. And then it cuts out and you stumble slightly, the sensation of the Mandalorian’s emotions leaving like having the floor yanked from beneath your feet. He catches your arm, but you find your footing before you can fall. Steady your weight against his shoulder. He keeps his hand against the gauntlet, tightens his fingers until you see the knuckles turn white. Stares at you with the same piercing look which makes the hair at the back of your neck stand on end.

“Something’s wrong,” he says.

You shake your head.

“You’re – ”

“Not here.” You say. “Not here, Mando.”

He starts to tug on your arm, steps in towards you like he is going to push you himself. “We’re going back to the hotel.”

“We’re almost at the ship.” You feel fine now, strong and solid again. All except for the strangeness of a leftover aching which does not belong to you. Slightly winded. “Let’s just get the packs and go back.”

He is going to fight you on this, you think. He is going to drag you through the market back to the hotel room. He stares at you hard and you watch as the debate he is having with himself plays out behind his eyes. So open and honest. His whole face is, lets every thought flicker across it, hasn’t had it exposed to the world since he was a child. His hand tightens its hold on you and then he sighs and releases your arm. Steps away from you just enough that there is a breath of space between you. He jerks his chin in the direction you had been walking, sheaths the Viroblade again as he does.

The docking bays on Garel are locked with codes, distributed by automated machines which charge a nightly fee. You punch in the code and the door slides open with a quiet hiss. The bay has a fuel station, water tanks, powered down droids in the corner for maintenance. It’s a clean, durasteel and plastoid, slick and sterile and lit in white fluroscent lights which flicker on as you arrive. There’s a space on the wall which is slightly brighter, a familiar sight to you, the removal of Imperial insignia has left the faded spot exposed to the world. Above you the traffic of speeders continues on a steady pace, slicing against the purple clouds. The Crest looks even older amongst the sleek surfaces, rougher and dirtier than it usually does. Calms you against what you know you must do, the familiar sight of home.

The packs are huge, too heavy for just one of you to carry. Empty medkits to fill, clothes to wash and mend, your holopad to connect to a larger terminal, download articles, books, news, anything which will shed light on your predicament. You had prepared them before departing the ship, left them stacked inside the ramp just in case you could not find anywhere to stay.

The ramp lowers slowly and you stand by it, foot jumping against the ground again. Try to formulate the words in your head before you start. Try to run through everything you know he will ask you in return. Think very briefly about continuing to conceal it from him but you know you can’t. Know that you had already lied to him once. Mando is watching you openly, and you can’t feel him anymore, but you can see his concern still painted over his features and feel worse because of it. Know that concealing that you have felt his heart four times now is becoming a breach of the trust you have won with him. It doesn’t make you feel less sick.

“Mando,” you say as he lifts his heavy pack onto his shoulder. “Mando. I have to talk to you.”

He looks to you expectantly.

“It’s about – it’s – ” Your foot is still jumping, echoing around the hull in the Mandalorian’s heavy boots. You breath in as deeply as you can through the helmet. “You remember when we talked about how I could… how I could feel things?”

He frowns. You are growing more skittish, fight the urge to turn away from him.

“Well I – I said I couldn’t… that I’d never with you but, but…”

His face smooths over. “But what?” He doesn’t sound angry. He sounds perfectly calm and you know him well enough to prefer his temper to this. You shift backwards slightly, away from him.

“Just then… when I stopped.” You think about not admitting the rest, about letting him believe this had only just developed, but the guilt gnaws away at your stomach. You twist your gloved hands together. “And in the desert. I felt what you were feeling.”

“You said you couldn’t do that to me.”

Your heart feels like its pounding in all your limbs at once. You squeeze your hands together to stop you from fidgeting them. “I… I know.”

“When you told me you couldn’t do that to me, had you already… had you ever…”

You bite into your lip, drop your head to the chest plate. It’s all the answer he needs. “Only once,” the vodocor cracks through your quiet tone.

He is still so calm, so still. “You lied to me.”

“I didn’t want you to be upset.”

He snaps. You see it, the split second it happens. The calm breaks away and his face pulls into a snarl. He hoists the huge pack up his back and shoves past you and down the ramp, footsteps echoing through the empty dock. You stare at the space where he had been and then swing around and scrabble after him, leave your own pack laying against the floor of the Crest as you struggle down the ramp, feet unsteady.

“Mando, wait, please – ”

“You have everything that belongs to me!” He yells, swinging around to face you. “You have my body, you have my Beskar, you have my Creed! And now you tell me even m-my feelings? You have taken everything away from me!”

You flinch away from him again. The Mandalorian is shaking, vibrating almost, his jaw so tight you think he will break his teeth on it, his eyes burning red and shining. The wetness in them grows and he swipes a hand across his face, so harsh you can hear the sound of the back of It hit against his cheek. Catches a tear before it falls. You stomach lurches. He is breathing in short, angry gulps. Looks at you like you have betrayed him. And you have.

“I’m sorry.” You say. “I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you but… I’m not doing it on purpose. If I could make it stop I would. I promise, I don’t want – ”

“How many times?” His voice is ragged. Eyes search yours through the visor. “How much?”

“I…” You trail off. Drop your gaze from his, can’t take it. Can’t take the way he is looking at you. The guilt is worse, so much worse, makes you feel sick. “Four. Four times.”

He opens his mouth to say something, a mean, ugly expression on his face. But he closes it again, his eyes searching the helmet frantically. You want to call to him again, reach for him, say something, anything. But you do nothing, you stand there silent and still and he shudders. Closes himself off. And then he is turning, passing the powered down droids, and hitting the control panel at the door so hard you jump. Worry it will break. He is outside before it finishes opening and disappears into the throng beyond it. Leaves you standing alone, listening to the hiss of the door as it closes again, the sounds of the outside world entering and then becoming sealed away. The docking bay is unbearably silent.

You feel strangely mechanical when you turn and walk back up the ramp, lift the heavier of the packs onto your shoulders. The pack which should have been his but isn’t. His words echo around and around with the sounds of your footsteps as you tidy the hull of the Crest with the lights from the docking bay. And he is right, you realise. He is right because you have taken everything that is his, and you still hold everything about yourself in which you take pride. Your hands have fixed the ship and rewired the engine and adjusted the child’s crib to take controls from an external remote instead of the gauntlet strapped to your forearm. Your hands are still capable of all that they were before, even though they are not your hands, they are his. But he is left with nothing. No Creed. No Beskar. Everything which holds him together now makes a part of you. A Mandalorian without a helmet.

You close the ship in a daze, descend the ramp again and stand by the manual control as you watch it fold back into the belly of the ship, sealing it off from the outside world. Feel a buzzing start to settle into your fingertips as you stand still, and you almost reach for the controls to open the ramp again. Think your lumpy cot in the dark of the hull would be better than having to go back and face him again. You rest your hand over it before you drop it slowly back to your side. You wish you were different; wish you were not able to feel anything of the souls of the people around you. Close your eyes tightly and try to hold all the shaking pieces of yourself together against the trembling you feel growing from inside you.

The market feels more crowded even now. The press of the heat and noise all around you unbearable, but you do not move fast. Can’t make yourself hurry back to the room where you know you will have to face Mando again. You even stop, more than once, let yourself be moved by the crowd and blankly inspect goods hanging in stalls ramshackled to the sides of the towering buildings all around you. Let sellers talk to you eagerly, show you food and weapons and tinkering little bits of jewellery you have no intention of buying. Shake your head at every one of them when you can no longer bear standing still and drift on, a part of the crowd. Ignore the way people jump when they notice the armour, trip over themselves to move from your way. The blaster at your back presses under the weight of the pack. Makes you wider, even, than you already are. You happily let it slow you down.

You are so caught in your own head that you don’t hear the yelling or the scuffling until you are nearly in it. A wall of people, taking up half the pathway, raising cheers and yelling. You hit into someone’s back and step away again. They turn, ready to shove you away until they see the Beskar. The man throws both hands up and steps to the side, and the ebb of the crowd behind you pushes you forward into the circle.

You sigh and start to shuffle sideways along the back edge of the gathering, trying to slip between people harder with the added bulk of the pack behind you. And there are people all around you, human and alien, trying to get a closer look. Even with the intimidation of the Beskar you are pushed along, moved further forward. You realise the crowd isn’t just cheering, there are a chorus of language and swearing being thrown around, someone yelling about credits and another answering in Huttese. Bets. A fight, you realise, and try harder to move. Push back harder against the people at behind you. Someone shoves into your side, another shoulders in front of you, trying to get closer to the action. You shoulder them back with a grunt, feel the swing of your pack connect with another body. A cry raises up through the crowd as you see the massive head of a Barabel pass over the rest of the crowd, circling the centre of the group, the dulled lumps of horns on its skin like massive rivets against green leather. As it passes closest to you the people ahead of you shudder and part, moving back from the enraged alien’s path and allows you a glimpse into the makeshift ring.

And Mando, fist curled back around his viroblade, circling opposite the Barabel.

The crowd closes back in as you blink. Stunned. The Barabel charges forward and you hear another deafening scream raise up around you as the crowd roars in response. You move before you realise what you are doing, shove your shoulders at the people ahead to try and break the crowd.

“Move!” You yell and it’s thundering. Around you everyone jumps, scatters and you push to the front of the circle.

The Barabel has circled further away now, scaly fists curled into tight balls and held up. Tongue hissing between its teeth and snarling. Sunken yellow eyes trained in on Mando. Opposite the Barabel he looks tiny, hair pulled half out from where it is tucked into his collar and falling around his face, flushed and sweating, a red blotch where he has taken a grazing hit near his temple. His pack lying on the ground near your feet. You feel the pounding of blood behind your eyes. Search Mando for any other injuries. Realise his gun is still strapped into his holster at his hip. He wants to fight.

And before you can think they charge at each other. The Barabel swings but Mando ducks low and twists and evades it completely, moves back out of the huge alien’s range. The knife is throbbing in the air, shivering so that you can’t focus on it. And then the Barabel is reaching again, roaring and swinging but Mando stays away, keeps himself far enough out of reach that it can’t find purchase. Weaving along the edge of the circle, further and further from the Barabel, but closer to you. You watch, mind blank, as the Barabel charges again. Mando twists but he isn’t quite fast enough. You see the misjudge, see the size of his step and swing of his arm, and realise he is fighting in your body, trying to manipulate a completely different person into a victory. The Barabel gets a fistful of his tunic but the viroblade is already at its arm, looks like it glides along the scaled surface, but there is a singing burst of blood beneath the sharpness of the blade and the Barabel screams and releases him.

Mando stumbles back, right in front of you.

You lunge forward, grab a handful of his collar and yank him back before the Barabel reaches him again. Haul him with you half into the scattering crowd. There’s shouting everywhere, all around you, the clamouring of tens of people rearing for a fight. Screaming filling up the helmet. And Mando is twisting, yanking against your grip, surprisingly strong. His collar stays bunched in your hand, his hair whips against the chest plate of the Beskar.

There’s a cool blade pressed through the fabric at your throat before you can blink.

Gotabor: Engineer

Tags:@btillys @vercopaanir @absurdthirst @sistasarah-sallysaidso @adikaofmandalore @babyomen @purpleeeslurpppp @fleurdemiel145 @hdlynn @starwarsiscooliguess @thedarkwitchling @no-droids-allowed @dartheldur @toilet-keeper @sinnamon-bunn

#oooohhhh boy #tensions anyone? would anyone like a tensions?#bc i have many #i promise the next update for this is mostly written i will not make anyone wait a week for the next part #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #reader insert #force sensitive reader #the mandalorian imagine #fic #my fic #body swap #baar bal runi

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neon-junkie · 4 years ago

Text

A One Time Thing?

Summary: Sure, they've had a fling before, but this time it's a one time thing... isn't it?

Pairing: Javier Escuella x John Marston

Word Count: 2471

Rating: NSFW

Tags: Friends to lovers, Mutual masturbation, Smut, Drinking, P*rn without a plot, Slight angst.

Notes: I’ve never wrote any Jovier before so go easy on me here xD

Neither of them is sure if it's the whiskey that set fire to the fuse of sexual tension that has been burning for months, but both of them had been itching for another encounter. They've locked eyes with each other every day since, usually multiple times a day, and the tension burns a little stronger each time. Not to mention the lowkey flirting and suggestive hints, the way their knees would always rest against each other when they were sat at the campfire, or the way their hands would linger together for a little too long when they split their earnings from a job. The bubble has finally burst tonight. Javier and John had been asked to both be on guard duty tonight; Dutch was being extra cautious since that man recognized Arthur from Blackwater, so better safe than sorry. But instead of patrolling the camp as normal, the two of them had sat by the scout campfire to try and keep warm, seeing as the Heartlands was rather chilly around this time of the year, not to mention the chill from the dead of night. A bottle of whiskey was shared, and one thing always leads to another.

"So needy," Javier tells John between kisses, placing his hands onto his chest as he swings one leg over and straddles John. John automatically bucks his hips up, rutting his hardening cock against Javiers. "So impatient," Javier adds, smiling throughout the kiss. "Can you blame me?" John asks. "I can blame you for not learning patience, yes," Javier replies. "Maybe I'll have to teach you." "Hell, I've been patient! It's been months, you know. You can't shame me for gettin' needy now," John laughs. "Fair play," Javier smiles as he presses his lips to Johns again. Their mouths part within time and their tongues are re-introduced, making John whimper. Javier knows too well how much John enjoys that, even more when Javier begins to rut his crotch against Johns. Javiers fingers find their way into Johns hair, gripping his head in place as Johns grabs at Javiers waistcoat, eventually sliding down to grip at his ass. Javier breaks the kiss and tightens his grip on Johns hair, eyes half-lidded as he huskily asks John "You wanna take me, Marston?" "Please," John sighs. The last time they'd ended up like this, all they managed to do was jerk their cocks together whilst a finger found its way into Johns ass, though he couldn't take much more. But Javier had spent countless nights whispering Johns name into the dark as he prepped himself, moving past that new burning feeling, and was now hungry to finally take him. "Good," Javier replies. He shuffles back ever so slightly so he can reach down and begin to unbutton Johns pants, John watching him with a grin, though his smile fades into a moan when Javier pulls his length out and begins to slowly stroke him. Sure, maybe the two of them shouldn't be doing this on the edge of camp. For once, nobody else is awake, nobody is awake drinking or spending their time by the campfire rather than sleeping. And if somebody were to wake up, then hopefully they'd notice the disturbance before it noticed them. John sighs again, lying back against the log. His eyes flick between watching Javier stroke him, to admiring that smug expression Javier has on his face. Or what John can see of his face as Javiers back is facing the campfire, his face dark and a handful of loose strands of hair covering his face. John reaches forward to unbutton Javiers pants, thankful that the two of them had taken their gunbelts off a long time ago. He pulls his length out and after a slow pump, a bead of precum falls from Javiers cock straight onto Johns, making John moan a little louder than he should have. "That it? Is that all I need to do to make you whine like that?" Javier teases. "It was hot, alright?" John shrugs. Javier lets out a laugh before telling John to "come here." He shuffles his hips forward and pushes them down so his cock presses against Johns. Javier moves Johns hand away and replaces it with his own, stroking their cocks together whilst slowly rutting his hips. Javiers hand barely wraps around them both; they both feel so heavy, rock-solid, and similar in size. John watches hungrily, his hands resting on Javiers thighs, slowly trailing up to grab his ass again and encourage his hips to grind down a little harder. "I ain't gonna last long if you keep doin' that," John tells him. "Already?" Javier mocks. "Alright," he shakes his head, letting go of them. John whimpers but watched eagerly as Javier de-mounts him, spinning John around so he can lie beside the log he was just leaning against, propping himself up on his elbows as he watches Javier move down his body. John has to bite his bottom lip to keep himself quiet when Javier ducks his head down and swirls his tongue around the tip of Johns cock, Javiers hand lazily stroking him as he focuses on the tip. He soon takes Johns length into his mouth, only because John was whimpering like a poor puppy. His whimpers quickly turn into moans, and he bites his knuckles to try and keep himself quiet. "Cállate," Javier tells John. "Be quiet. You wanna get caught?" "Javier, I'm sorry," John mumbles, his knuckles still pressed between his teeth. Javier tuts him and rolls his eyes, but moves his mouth back onto Johns length. His hand works the base where his mouth can't quite reach, whilst his tongue rubs along the underside of his shaft. Every so often, Javier pops his mouth off just so he can swirl his tongue around Johns tip, his eyes opening so he can lock them with Johns, who looks like he's about to explode from the sight. The campfire continues to crackle and burn, highlighting all of Javiers features, reflecting off his raven black hair and tanned skin. The sight of him alone is enough to make Johns heart flutter, but the lighting seems to make his stomach turn, as well as making his cock throb. Javier moves off Johns cock for a moment, quickly shuffling his pants down to his thighs, exposing his ass and length. He leans forward towards John, placing two of his fingers on Johns lips. "Suck," Javier orders, and John does so in a heartbeat. He slicks Javiers fingers up, a trail of spit hanging from his mouth as Javier eventually pulls his fingers out, the trail soon breaking as Javier moves his fingers down so he can begin to prep himself. The position is a little awkward, but Javier manages to pop Johns cock back into his mouth whilst he fingers his own ass. "Shit! Javier, that's really hot," John sighs, reaching one hand down to brush Javiers hair from his eyes and hold it off his face. Javier doesn't reply, but he does flick his eyes up to meet Johns again. He can feel Johns length twitch in his mouth as his eyes lock onto Johns, and this time, John lets out a moan that is loud enough to wake anybody nearby. "Javier, I'm gonna-" "Do it," Javier cuts him off. "Means you'll last longer when you slide into me." John whimpers in response, his balls emptying the second Javier puts his mouth back onto Johns cock. Javier always seems to surprise John, as he pulls off his cock and swallows his load, licking his lips afterward. John sighs again, feeling like putty in Javiers hands. He sits upright, stealing a kiss from Javier, the flavour of his load strong on Javiers lips but John doesn't mind. "You ready, my love?" John asks as he breaks the kiss, well aware that Javiers still prepping himself. "I didn't know I was your armor, John," Javier replies with a grin. "I- that didn't mean to slip out, alright?" John stutters, realizing what he'd just called Javier. "I'm ready for you, niño bonito," Javier replies as he slips his fingers out, wiping them off on his thigh. "N-Nio what?" John asks with a laugh. "It doesn't matter, come on," Javier says as he urges John up. Javier shuffles about, positioning himself against the log. His elbows are resting on it, knees slightly apart, and looking over his shoulder at John, who seems frozen in the moment from the sight of Javier waiting patiently for John to enter him. "I know it's cold out, but you can't be frozen already, can you?" Javier teases, snapping John out of his gaze. "Can a fella not admire you, huh?" John shakes his head as he moves behind Javier, lowering his own pants around his thighs and taking the base of his cock in his hand. "You can do your admiring when you're inside of me," Javier says, still looking over his shoulder at John, who lets out a moan in response. Johns eyes move from Javiers so he can line himself up, slowly pushing inside, using Javiers spit as lube. There's a slight burning sensation when John enters, but Javiers prepped himself well enough so that after a few minutes of some extremely slow thrusting, John can begin to pick up the pace. John tries to keep it down but he's been waiting for this for far too long; the sound of skin against skin can be heard, along with their hushed moans. He's not thrusting too hard or deep, worried that Javier is still hurting slightly, but John soon realizes he's not when Javier looks over his shoulder at him. "That all you got, Marston?" Javier asks, making Johns cock throb. "If you don't want me to hold back, then I won't," John shrugs. "Good. Don't." John takes a firm grip on Javiers hips, his fingertips pressed firmly, almost tight enough to leave bruises. Javiers head snaps forward as he lets out a choked moan, feeling Johns cock hit his core as the other man finally stops holding back. There's nobody awake to see them like this, and if for any reason, somebody does, then they're certain that person will mind their business and go wash the image away with a few bottles of liquor. Johns eyes flick between watching his cock enter Javier, to admiring the way Javier is gripping onto that log for dear life. Javier lowers himself onto his elbows, his head struggling to stay up, letting out moan after moan as he screws his eyes shut. "Head up, darlin'," John orders him as he reaches forward and takes hold of Javiers hair, slipping off his hair tie so he can brush his fingers into Javiers dark locks and pull his head up. He keeps a firm grip on Javiers hair as he pounds him, moving his body to the side slightly so Javiers face comes into his line of view. Javiers mouth remains parted, but his eyes flick open to catch Johns. "John," Javier moans, making Johns cheeks turn red. "Javier," John moans back, though it sounds slightly like a question. "You close?" Javier asks. "Yeah," John replies with a small nod. "Good," Javier replies as he reaches down between his legs and begins to jerk himself off, still propping his body up with his other elbow resting on the log. "Shit," John sighs as he leans upright, removing his hand from Javiers hair and moving it back onto his hip. John picks up the pace of his thrusts again, knocking against that spot inside of Javier almost straight away. A whimper escapes Javiers lips as he mumbles "do that again." So, John does, managing to roll his hips perfectly so he hits Javiers prostate with every thrust. "Ah!" Javier moans. "John," he whimpers again, leaning his body down so he's practically draped over the log, his muscles far too weak to hold his weight up. "Wish you could see how good you look right now," John tells him. "Why don't you continue to show me how good I look instead, hm?" Javier asks as his eyes peek over, looking over his shoulder at the man sheathed inside of him. "Shit," John sighs at his comment. "Where can I-" "-Inside," Javier tells him as he cuts his question off. "You sure-" "-Yes," Javier says with a nod, cutting him off again. John can't complain, and he definitely doesn't want to. Another few thrusts and John's spilling his load inside of Javier with his name escaping his lips. Javier follows shortly after, his load hitting the earth below and the log he's leaning over. They're a panting and sweaty mess, their hair clinging onto their foreheads. John finally pulls out and gets to his feet, looking around the campfire for his hat as he pulls his pants up. Javier was smart enough to place his hat down on the stool, so he's dressed before John. "Here," Javier says as he places Johns hat on his head after watching him search for it despite it being straight in front of him. "Thanks," John replies. Their eyes meet and in sync, the two lean in to kiss but both stop themselves. Tension can be felt in the air, but John breaks it as he steals a kiss from Javier, who melts into his touch. "Come on, you. Gotta go wake up whoever's next on shift," Javier tells him as he breaks the kiss. "Alright, alright," John says with a shrug, walking a little too closely to Javier as they stroll back into camp. Javiers about to kick the foot to wake up whatever poor soul is next on shift, but John quickly stops him. "Hey..." he trails off. "Is this a... eh... one time thing? Again?" John finally asks. "You tell me," Javier shrugs. "You've got a family, John. Can't be getting too caught up in this mess," Javier says under his breath, quiet enough not to wake anybody. "Yeah, you're right... well..." John trails off as he stares at the ground, trying to find the right words to say. "We'll just see what happens, huh?" "Indeed, we will," Javier replies. Johns about to speak again but Javiers already kicked the camp members' foot, waking them from their slumber. John is quick to turn heel and walk off to his tent, looking back at Javier as he talks to them. This is a mess, isn't it? The way John looks at Javier, and those expressions Javier sends back his way. Maybe in another life, things will be different. But for this life, John has a family to focus on, though he can't help being tempted by the sin that is that man. John will just have to wait and see what happens.

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evildoe-r · 4 years ago

Text

sunstroke (bif x derby)

word count: 3,434

rating: T

main characters: bif taylor, derby harrington

spoilers for video game: yes (Dishonorable Fight and Complete Mayhem)

...now he had thrust his apology back into his hands. Bif was one of the few he could not freely take sincerity from, that was his own mistake, and one he just made deliberately. Presently, he felt sickening remorse pooling inside of him, steadily drowning him.

warning; very long post

It was a year nearing its lively prime stretching across dusty, strange Bullworth. The evening crept and called the fading light that spread its warm hue across the rooftops and glistened on uncertain waters. Bif made his way through the subdued small town, to return to his dorm at the Academy after he and his friends spent the day at the gym having sparring matches, choosing to spend the penultimate day of school there instead of waste it at Miss Peters’ traditionally mind numbing school play that took place at the end of each academic year. They’d all had a much better time in their gym - all of them except for the absent Derby, who he rarely saw anymore, even around the Harrington House. Derby, who once would let him walk alongside him as his right hand man. He couldn’t tell if he was avoiding him or it was simply coincidence - a coincidence that occurred directly after he had lost a boxing match to none other than new kid Jimmy Hopkins, and disgraced the Preps’ standing within the school hierarchy.

He hated losing, but he hated the confusion that had followed even more, the vague insights and cues into Derby's fluctuating relationship with him on the rare occasion he did see him around. It was stupid to dwell on this, he knew it. But no matter how much he pushed aside the thought that Derby somehow hated him, it would creep up on him in the school hallways, in the classes he hadn't ditched, before he slept, always circling back to him.

He had lingered around in the gym longer than the others. Somehow, even after the usual high he got from defeating an opponent in a sparring match, today his movements as he showered and dressed back into his uniform had been slow and his thoughts were cloudy. On the morning after tomorrow's summer day of suspended classes, they would all return home, far away from Bullworth Academy.

Although the day had been hot, the evening lent a cool breeze which had given him some relief. Even after a cold shower, Bif felt too warm. His hair was still damp and he slicked a hand through it as he walked along the path looking out onto the sea. He could sense the day's sickening heat slowly retreating, which he was grateful for. He would have welcomed the warmth any other time, but all week his head swam with thoughts that made him almost weary. As he made his way toward the bridge, a pack of Greasers raced past him on their bikes, turning toward New Coventry and paying him no mind. Looking straight ahead, he narrowed his eyes against the waning sunlight. He heard their voices before he spotted them. It was Justin and Chad several feet in front of him, their backs turned to him, speaking excitedly and louder than usual. Bif almost halted in his path as he suddenly recognised that unbearably familiar voice mingling with theirs.

Derby.

He forced himself to continue walking as normal. Lighthearted laughter erupted from them before he heard Derby’s courteous parting dismissal as the other two departed towards the direction of the Academy.

Shit.

Derby was left there, standing uphill in front of the setting sun like a great shadow. He watched Bif carefully, and now, Bif had no choice but to meet him and his gaze, always razor sharp.

Derby was the first to speak.

“Bif.”

“Hey,” Bif tried.

As he approached Derby, he couldn’t help but notice how he observed him, studied him so closely. Bif knew that Derby had seen him before he realised he was there, just as he saw everything. You didn’t just escape Derby’s notice.

“Thought you’d be back at the House by now,” Derby said.

“Well, yeah, I just got held up,” Bif replied, making an attempt for his voice to remain neutral. But he was scared, excited, anxious. He hadn't realised how much he had anticipated this, whether it was to confront him or to reconcile with him. He only wanted for things to return to what was supposed to be normal.

But now, Derby’s voice was calm, slightly softer than usual. It eased him a little. Maybe he didn't hate him after all.

Derby watched his taller friend’s nervous hand run through his hair. The reddish brown strands were the color of fire in the last reach of the small town sunlight.

“What’s the matter?” he asked. Bif’s green eyes widened a little in surprise at the question.

“Uh, It’s nothing, Derby,” he finally said.

"You seem a bit on edge," Derby observed.

"Oh, boxing and all that. Parker gave me a hard time. But I won anyway, you know."

Derby offered an acknowledging nod before changing the subject. “Well, I don’t plan on going back to the school grounds for another while.” He gazed out towards the sea, and then turned expectantly onto Bif, awaiting a response.

"I guess I didn't either," his friend admitted. “I’ve had enough of that place right now.”

“Walk with me, then?” Derby straightened the clean white collar of his shirt.

“Sure.”

It was quiet. The evening had completely settled upon the town, the sky a gradient of bright pink and a moody blue. Familiar lighthouse beams shone against the darkening horizon. The sound of the sea relaxed him, always inviting him to reminisce about his hazy days as a very young child, on holidays with his family to otherworldly time zones, where he would run on mystical white beaches while his father’s voice commanded him to behave, and so he did. But now, the sky was a soft bluish purple, and the quiet beach was dark and lulling and his friend was right beside him.

As they walked in silence together, Derby watched Bif, noting his furrowed brow, his mind seemingly unsettled. “Shall we walk down the pier?” he suggested, making his way down the wooden surface perpendicular to their path. Bif was at his elbow and slowly followed him down, his familiar movements sure and steady as his body, yet his face was always an open book. As the sun’s last rays leapt above the buildings, Derby knew he must be anticipating something, but he did not speak.

III

Derby began to hum a slow, sonorous tune that he could not recognise. This was almost like old times. Derby by his side as they walked through Old Bullworth Vale, then down to the beach, spending the early summer days during free periods there, as he convinced Derby to go diving into the cool waters with him and swim to the lighthouses and back.

They were alone here, besides a weary eyed middle aged man who could have been thirty five or fifty, in a slightly tatty grey suit who was leaning casually against the ledge looking down into the dark waters below them.

“Man, don’t do it!” Derby called with a grin. The stranger turned to them, and spat, before turning and walking away as he lit a cigarette.

“I’ve seen that guy before,” Bif insisted. “Comes around here a lot, tries to go where it's quiet."

“Then it’s his unlucky day,” Derby smiled, as they watched the man depart. Despite himself, Bif laughed with him, his previous anxieties lapsing.

“Hey, can you believe Miss Peters had that dumb school play even with everything that happened?” Bif had suddenly felt lighter, and was in the mood for banter.

“Everyone made quite the mess of the school, that’s true,” Derby agreed, “But the auditorium seemed virtually untouched. I didn’t even see any renovations taking place there. I guess nobody bothered with it.

“You know, when father heard what happened he wasn't happy at all. He searched for a prestigious school worthy enough for his investment and then all hell breaks loose." He shook his head in disapproval.

“He’s considering transferring me somewhere else for my last academic year,” Derby confided.

“Yeah?” Bif was oddly disheartened. “I thought your dad was busy with y'know, stuff.” Derby would occasionally mention his dad and how his business was fairing, but truthfully, Bif never had the patience nor the interest to hear it all out.

“He is. He really doesn’t have time for all this,” he agreed. "But my God, what a state the school was in afterwards..."

“Yeah, the place really turned into a total dumpster fire after Hopkins beat your-”

A look of irritation flickered over Derby’s face and Bif stopped short. “Uh, yeah, you know,” he said awkwardly, feigning an itch on his neck. He tried to think of something witty, but his head felt confused and muddled again. With nothing more to say, their conversation dissolved into silence, and they watched the waves in the distance for a while. The islands ahead were sharp shadows, only their dark outlines visible in the late evening light.

It was certainly like old times, he thought. Nonetheless, something felt misplaced, wrong, and he was unable to focus.

“Can we talk about it, Derby?” He was venturing blind into a conflict, he could feel it, but he had to try. “I don’t think I gotta explain what I mean.” He braced himself for surprise or even offense from his friend, but his face remained impassive.

“I’m actually not sure what you mean.”

It was Bif’s turn to look annoyed. Reigning in his sudden anger, he found himself raising his voice more than intended. “You ignored me for ages, and now you’re acting as if everything’s normal.”

Derby’s neutrality stubbornly asserted itself as he spoke. “There is nothing out of the ordinary here, Bif.”

“Were you mad after I lost to Jimmy?” Bif demanded.

“We have nothing to talk about regarding this matter, I mean it.”

“But you were avoiding me! You avoided me for weeks, Derby!” he said desperately.

“I don’t want to discuss this now-”

“Well I do!”

“Of course I was angry, Bif,” came the reply, and his mask of nonchalance had disappeared.

“I don’t need to explain why, you know that quite well. Can we drop it now?” the corners of his mouth quivered slightly and his voice rose and fell a little as if he couldn’t decide whether to be angry or not.

Bif gave an exasperated sigh as he dragged his hands down his face. Didn’t he realise the guilt he felt after he lost? He disgraced himself, and worse, Derby Harrington. He was one of his closest friends, yet he was unreachable all the same. You lost to him too, Derby, don't you remember?!

Derby glared at him, jaw clenched. Those sharp eyes, and now he’s finally cutting. “You want me to say I lost too, is that it, Bif?”

There it is, and just how had he figured? It seemed like he could always see what was swimming past the surface, and sometimes, with Derby, he didn’t know himself. Always so precise, never anything less. He spoke of loss, and now he'd taken every word from him.

Derby recalled that day at the gym too well. Bif lying there, barely conscious, as Hopkins taunted them. It was undeniably embarrassing, and Bif would never know the sensation of anger and betrayal that had struck him afterwards. Not just Bif, but his supposed friends too, humiliated by an apparent nobody, suddenly crowned King. Bif seemed taken aback by his question, and he was unsure if he meant it rhetorically or not. He decided to allow him to feel shaken a moment, before he carried on. He needed to make him understand.

“Have you ever thought about how the situation affected me, Bif? Just once?”

Bif was angry, that much was too obvious, but his poise was diminished, almost giving way. He was more than angry, he was upset.

“That’s all I’ve been thinking about since that day, Derby,” he said, quietly this time. Suddenly, he turned away. Derby could hear the waves again for a brief moment, slow and rhythmic, distinctly timed. Bif seemed to focus on an object in the distance before he exhaled loudly and whirled to face Derby again.

"Why does any of this matter anyway? It was just a stupid boxing match!"

"You think this is about boxing? Oh, you're so naive, Bif. " Derby was indignant.

"Then what is it about?" Bif pressed him. “You just love patronizing me, I know you do.”

“Patronizing? Did you just learn that word from English class yesterday?”

"Seriously? Whatever, you're too important to tell me anyways. Keep it to yourself, I don’t care."

He had avoided Bif in his shame, he knew that much. He would not ask questions about his whereabouts to other Preps, but he had picked up on his altered emotional state whenever he saw him, which he would insist to himself was a lesson of sorts, a justified consequence of his own failure. His friends had left him disgusted then, most of all Bif, who seemed to guard his champion title so fiercely beforehand. Bif, who he slowly and so carefully placed his shaky trust into.

“So you’re not even gotta admit you pretended I didn’t exist, right?” Bif looked like he found it impossible to stay still. His fists were clenched, and he seemed almost breathless.

“I would never admit something that wasn’t true.” But it is true, he knows.

“Fuck you, Derby.”

Derby almost flinched. His friend’s venom had left him witless, and he wanted to reply with equal scorn, but the rebuttal would not come.

“And guess what, maybe I didn’t wanna see your face either, Derby.”

“Good. I was getting pretty sick of you, you know.”

He rued his words as soon as they left him, and he averted his gaze. Bif was hurt by this, he knew, and this time, there was no reply, no hostility. A bitter quiet fell on them.

“I didn’t mean that truly, Bif. You know that.”

I’m sorry.

“Yeah.”

"Look, I'm sorry."

Bif voiced his apology like a tired surrender. Derby had never seen him like this. Not even on that day at the gym. There was a terrible vulnerability about the person who stood in front of him.

"Don't say sorry to me, Bif."

"I just felt like I owed you-"

"Don’t." he told him. “Don’t apologise.”

“Then what the hell, Derby?” His annoyance was tinged with relief, appearing somewhat yielding, which Derby was grateful for, as an unexpected tiredness grabbed him. For once, he felt out of control of the unraveling before him. He was being hurled off the tracks and he was finding it hard to steer them both into his direction. He had wanted to see Bif today, take in the reassuring presence he gave him, which became so familiar to him over these past few years. They’d argued, and now he had thrust his apology back into his hands. Bif was one of the few he could not freely take sincerity from, that was his own mistake, and one he just made deliberately. Presently, he felt sickening remorse pooling inside of him, steadily drowning him.

He'd fought with Derby before, but it was usually over something stupid.

"My dad is more important than your dad!" He'd jokingly taunted one night in a slightly drunken daze, and Bif, also in a liquor induced stupor had gotten angrier than he'd wanted to be.

Derby had turned away from him and Bif said nothing for some time. It was a similar feeling to the tiresome end of a gruelling fistfight, but he was unsure whether he had won or lost this time. Bif felt lighter now, but consequently emptier too.

"Bif," Derby began slowly, "I did wrong you. It was a mistake on my part."

His admission was unexpected, for sure, and he found himself stricken. He would have felt less surprised if Derby had suddenly burst into awful, messy tears.

"God, Derby, you weird me out. I’ve known you for years, but you still confuse me."

He felt uneasy now, and he wished this would end. Derby turned, and Bif expected another disagreement to ensue, but there was none.

"Look, It's fine, Derby. I mean, I guess it’s not fine, but we don't have to bring it up anymore." I'm exhausted. "Let's just forget this, for now."

Derby looked tired too, for once.

“Okay, Bif.”

He's as shaken as I am, he realised.

“Let’s start to head back. It’s late. If you have any more gripes about me, you can tell me directly on the way.”

At least he could retain his sense of humor.

But it really was late, Bif realised. The stars were coming out, and the town’s usual toll had trailed off into silence, save for the occasional car rumbling through the street. They made their way wordlessly across the pier, turning toward the Academy. He almost hated Derby that night, yet he still he wanted him by his side, and despite his fatigue, he wouldn’t have minded staying there a while longer with him.

There was a peaceful air following them as they traveled to the place they’d had to call home for the school year. A yellow crescent moon was suspended in the cloudless dark sky. The night was warm, and still young. They would arrive well before midnight anyways, and when they reached the Academy, they knew it was past curfew, but Derby had made sure early on in the year that they would go unnoticed by the displeased prefects who wandered the school grounds with torches at night, looking for troublemakers. After all, they loved money, same as everyone else. And besides, it seemed pointless to enforce a curfew on the second last day of school. When they entered the house, the lights were dimmed and it was mostly quiet, except for the muffled sound of footsteps on one of the top floors. They started to make their way upstairs and through a carpeted hallway decorated with paintings and houseplants. Bif stopped suddenly.

“Wait, Derby, are you really leaving Bullworth?”

He eyed Bif for a moment before answering. “I certainly hope not. How am I going to find so many lackeys who are willing to fight for me in a new school in so little time?” he said, looking at Bif, a laugh breaking out of his neutral expression, and Bif let out a chortle.

“Man, hadn’t thought of that,”

They stood there in the faint lamplight, so mellow it made him slightly dizzy.

“I gotta go to bed, have an important day of doing nothing tomorrow,” Bif said. As Derby laughed, he looked younger, and for a brief second he was the person who would sneak out of dinner parties with him as a lark and explore the old, stately home they’d both been confined in for the evening, finding dubious locked doors and dusty basements.

“Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow then, Bif,” he said, laying a hand on his arm, suddenly pausing. He could feel his warmth through his cotton shirt. He realised how much he had sweated that evening in the summer heat, but either Derby didn’t care or didn’t pay any attention. A sensation in his chest exulted, unsettled him. There was the flicker of longing he’d experienced through the years, now plain and clear as day, and not so uncertain as it used to be. Derby seemed to linger there for a second, lifting his ambiguous gaze to his own eyes, keeping it there, making him restless, but in that moment, Derby began to back off into his room. And when he tore his hand away, Bif almost objected, calling his name and telling him to wait. Derby just stood there in anticipation, and when Bif asked if he was okay, he replied in that affected tone that Bif had always hated, asking why he shouldn’t be. Bif just shrugged his shoulders, and Derby then hastily bid him goodbye, retreating into his room. The door clicked shut, leaving him there.

When he finally went to bed, his frustration had begun to stir among his fatigue and he wondered if he was wrong to think he might fall asleep that night. At one point, the heat in his room was stifling, and he leapt up from his bed and threw open the windows. When he was finally able to close his eyes, he thought of Derby, the sea and its lighthouses, his wanting and his hurt, and the mess he’d thrown himself into. One more day and they’d be apart, and now he wished that he’d caught Derby’s arm before he’d made himself scarce that night.

______________________________________________________________

Notes

Hey, If you read the full thing, I greatly appreciate it! This was quite difficult to write at times because the characters of Bif and Derby were not given so much nuance in the game itself, so it was quite challenging to write a story that delves into their psyche and way of thinking. I wrote this with the intention of exploring their individual characters and feelings toward each other a bit further, especially after the events of the Dishonorable Fight and Complete Mayhem missions. The interactions and the implications of their relationship dynamic are quite interesting to me. Please feel free to tell me what you thought, and once again, thank you for reading!

-A

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atomicblasphemy · 4 years ago

Text

Chamomile {Part VI}

Eda and Amity share a cup of tea

“Well, be my guest. You technically already are my guest, but… Anyway, whenever you’re ready.”

“Right. As I said, mother does it herself, she doesn’t call for a servant to do it, or a professional. No, that’s our little mother and daughter time, as she calls it. And she always goes on and on about how nice I look next to my siblings when we all have the same color afterwards. Looking like a Blight, she says. She’s there messing with my hair and she won’t even say a word, not a single word. We both just stay there silent as she goes through the motions. Have you ever done it? Have you ever dyed your hair? The first thing you’re supposed to do is bleach it, that’s important. Especially if you are going to put a light tone like this. I never really got it, her hair is a darker shade than this, Ed and Em’s too. But she always went for this light green. You’d think she’d make father dye his hair to, but its actually more like she forbids him from that. Anyway. To be fair, I actually prefer this over their tone. Anyway, I once asked Lilith, back when she was still my mentor, if your scalp was supposed to itch after you bleach it. She said it never happened to her. That was the end of it. But I guess it kind of changes with time, either that or I’ve gotten better at controlling the itch. After mother is done and the dye dries she will always shower me with compliments, the name Blight thrown every other sentence. She’ll keep this up for like a couple of days, give or take. Then, when it starts to fade or it just generally becomes old news, then its back to the cold shoulders. When the brown roots start to ‘spoil the look’, as she puts it, she’ll make sure not to let me forget it. The word Blight completely absent from her mouth when it comes to me. That will go on until our next mother and daughter time. Then she’ll call me a Blight again. Until then I’m hardly Amity anymore. She’ll do this kind of treatment with Ed and Em sometimes too. But their hair is naturally green, and they are better than me at avoiding giving reason to it, I guess. I used to think that it was favoritism or something like that. We talked, the three of us, I don’t think that, not anymore. Luz told you about that library fiasco, didn’t she?”

“Yup, she did.”

“So, what prompted that was the… let’s call it the broken vase mystery. A porcelain vase, I thought it was something passed down from generations, some sort of Blight heirloom. Nope, she bought it the week before. Those things all look the same, to be honest. Pretending to be ancient and more valuable than they actually are, way too needlessly intricate for you to actually appreciate the details. Honestly, I don’t even think there is something to be appreciated in things like that, once glance and you’ll get all that it has to offer. In any case, one morning the thing is on the floor, completely shattered. Obviously, we were the three main suspects. Well… those two didn’t accuse me. But they didn’t exactly took responsibility either, and I knew for a fact Ed snucked out the night before and Em was covering for him. Some accident must have happened in the process and the vase was the victim. As I said, they didn’t take responsibility. So we all got grounded. I was livid. Three weeks, with another one of probation.”

“Probation? Seriously? Your parents gave you all a rap sheet?”

“I… I know… It really is worse than it sounds. Anyway, two weeks in, I storm into father’s office and tell him everything I knew.”

“Snitch.” Eda snickered.

“I’m not proud of that, but in the end I guess it was for the best, really. They were proud, apparently, of what did, and the amount of evidence I had to support my innocence. So I was back to being a Blight. Ed and Em weren’t anymore, not until their sentences were done with, that is. They got two months added to it, eleven weeks in total, with the possibility of appeal after the sixth week, not counting the first sentence. Mother and father said: obstruction of justice is a serious charge. Technically they are still serving it. But they are veterans, they know their ways around surveillance and all that, why do you think they chose to go to the illusions track? So yeah, it was their turn to be mad. Their plan was to leak my diary on school, to make me lighten up somehow, not take things too seriously, whatever that means. Well… Luz probably told you how that went down. Now we can see eye to eye though, because of that, because of what Luz told them that night. It was a shock to them, I think. The three of us talked that night, we talked a lot that night. Turns out we all truly are those two’s children. Turns out their stories weren’t that different from mine. They just knew better than me how to do stuff in a way those two wouldn’t notice. The impossible even happened that night. They apologized, and something even more unlikely: I forgave them. We felt like family for the first time in… ever, I guess. It was the first time the words mittens didn’t sound just like mockery. One of the things they told me, about the hair, was that they would do that sort of stuff with them, both mother and father. It was with extra-credits though: Ed wanted ballet, Em wanted wrestling. Ed took up wrestling, Em took up ballet. They lucked out, they could teach each other in the wee hours. There was other stuff too, but that’s what I can remember off the top of my head.”

“Amity, your siblings sound lovely, and they seemed really nice when they came here the other day, and that day at the knee. But I don’t see how this has anything to do with your hair.”

“Honestly, I’m not sure myself. But… I think what I’m trying to say is that our parents are building us, and they are very specific about every single detail. Little miss perfect. Now that I think of it that nickname fits like a glove. The three of us really. Perfection was always the lowest bar acceptable to all three of us. No diversions, only perfection, only then we would be worthy of the Blight name. We didn’t ever really know what that perfection word meant, only mother and father could tell. And, well. My hair… It just so happens that this was the biggest flaw, the biggest and most glaring imperfection.”

Amity lifted her hand, she didn’t tuck in an lose strands of green this time. She just pointed her finger at the creeping light shade of brown. The line between kin and strangers laid so blurred.

“You were born with that, they are the ones who gave it to you. Is this how you see it? I mean, that, on your roots. That looks a lot like Al’s color, from what I remember. Is this the word you would describe it with?”

“Of course not, but it isn’t like that ever mattered. And yes, I did get my hair from him. But then again, he took up the name, not the other way around. He is the outsider, mother doesn’t say that out loud, but I’m sure that’s how she feels. You know, I think there are days they don’t even see each other. With all that you told me about them, he sounded so eager to take up the name. You said he was ambitious, right? Anyway. Dying my hair now, after all we talked about tonight, it just sounds like her way of showing me how thin the blightness sheet of ice I always stood on has been all along. I have at least that in common with father, I suppose, this kinship, if nothing else. I actually think that’s why I decided to follow his path with the abominations, even if I wouldn’t put in these words back then the way I’m doing right now. But then again, I guess that if dying my hair is what I need to do in order to be a Blight, I always thought that’d be worth it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Like, he’s the outsider, I’m not a Blight all the time. It felt right to follow his track. At least that’s what I thought. I always thought I looked more like him than her. I suppose she would agree.”

“I’m not so sure about that. You have his hair, his eyes. But I also see a lot of Odalia in you. Yup. You really are your mother’s daughter. Physical appearance and personality alike.”

“Wha-What do you mean by that?”

“I mean what I mean, and we both know you are clever enough to know what that is. I mean that at end of the day, you are still a member of the Blight family. There’s no changing that, at least not yet.”

“Really? I… thought I was managing to change any bad first impressions gave you, but...”

“But you did. Look at me, Amity. You did. And I don’t just mean that because of tonight. Honestly, I’ve have a hunch you were not a bad person since that day at the knee. Your siblings too actually. But that doesn’t mean you’re good either, but you have all the time you need to walk down that particular rocky road. You and I both know what your parents are like, what they are capable of. But the fact of the matter is, this is who you are, for now. You were raised by Odalia and Alador. And for good or for worse, mostly worse, they are a big part of who you are right now. You are a Blight. But, I’ve seen with my own eyes you take first few steps to go past the Blight. This is why I’m being so insistent on telling you that you absolutely need to make amends with Willow. As a matter of fact, I believe you should apologize for trying to murder Hooty, and bake King a few indemnisation cupcakes. I mean, you’ll probably be visiting more often so it would be better for you to change the bad first impression you did give the two of them. Trust me. Anyway, getting off track. Let’s make a little mental experiment. Shouldn’t be too hard for you, but imagine you marry Luz and become a Noceda. Hey, Hey, Hey. Focus, Amity. This is important, get your feet back on the ground. Now, sure, you’d not have people calling you Blight anymore, but that part of your past would still be there. That won’t just disappear with the name. The name on its own means nothing, but the past associated with it means everything. You have to choose, really choose not to be a Blight anymore. Assuming that’s even possible, that is. At the very least you can more Amity than Blight though. Really fixing things with Willow, making sure you’ll never do anything even remotely like that, willingly becoming a better person. Moving over being a Blight passes through all that for you, it won’t just come out of nothing. It depends on you. Tell me, if I were to give you a room in this house, tell you don’t need to go back to the manor ever again, would you dye your hair back to its natural color?”

Amity’s eyes grew wide. Eda’s grew morose.

“Would you really?”

This had little to do with Luz. Amity and Eda both knew it.

“I’m sorry, kiddo. I really am. But I can’t do that, this is just a hypothetical scenario. Honestly, when I saw that you and Luz were becoming friends I just knew you couldn’t be like Odalia and Alador, that you weren’t too far gone yet. That you at the very least were trying to be a good person… Well, I started running some scenarios in my head. Contingency plans, if you will. Should push come to shove, I could try and act on it. That was when I still had my magic. But even then, I don’t think it would work out. Petty theft, wild magic, that’s one thing. Abducting a kid, a blue blood at that… That’s something entirely different. All those scenarios ended with you getting sent off to one of those boarding schools they have at the left shoulder. And you need to keep it in mind, Luz is not from this realm. If she ever decides and manages to go back to her home neither of us will have any right to fault her, to try to stop her. If that happens, odds are you’ll never see her again. And I doubt you would like that, would you?”

“No… No, I wouldn’t.”

“Yeah… But hey, for what it counts. You and your siblings are welcome here anytime. And I do mean anytime, if you come knocking at four in the morning the doors will be open for you, and a cup of chamomile ready to go. And if you really need it, if you’re really fearing for your safety or something like that, at least I can promise you to put up a hell of a fight. Your father won’t be seeing my back this time around. And I’ll even drag Lily into it. I can also try to help you plan to leave that place as soon as possible. Beyond that... I’m really sorry, Amity, but my hands are tied.”

“I… That’s ok… Thank you… Really.”

“Don’t mention it.”

She didn’t meet Amity’s eyes. Trying to put up a front, she continued.

“Now, moving on. Who is this brown haired girl you seem to like so much?”

“She’s… a lot like Luz, or the Luz I see at least… Or maybe just like what I remember from when I was still friends with Willow. I don’t know which one, maybe she’s both, probably someone else entirely. I don’t know who she is, I never met her. But I think about her a lot. I like her more than this green haired Blight girl. I think… I think that’s all I can tell you about her. Its like you said, at the end of the day, she’ll be a Blight and there’s I can do about it.”

“I’ve never said that.”

“What?”

“I’ve never said that. All I said is that you are a Blight, and that you have time on your side. That’s not the same as saying that that’s all you’ll ever be. Didn’t Luz show you proof that what you’re saying just isn’t true? But yeah… This girl you just described, I don’t know if she will ever exist. Because even if you don’t think so, to me it sounds like she never really was a Blight, she never had to make the choices a Blight needs to make on a daily basis. In this sense she really is a lot like Luz. I’m not discouraging you from trying to be her though. She sounds lovely. She really does. You should aim for her, in my opinion. But don’t expect to become her. If anything, I can picture an Amity with brown hair and green roots.”

“What if I chose wrong?”

“Aren’t you used to it by now?”

“Ouch, you really are brutal, aren’t you?”

“Heh, sorry. But I mean it. Aren’t you? Wouldn’t you do exactly what you’ve been doing? Try and fix it?”

“I guess.”

“So, what’s stopping from asking Luz out? A proper date, that is.”

“Because if rejects me, she’ll be rejecting both my brown and my green hair. I can take it if she rejects the green... The other one… that’s a different story.”

“Ahh… Finally.”

Eda smiled as she saw her goals accomplished, Amity couldn’t help but to do the same. Her hair, falling over her face didn’t call for the same hiding anymore, however. Eda just looked at her, their different eyes sharing the familiarity absent before. She felt though she had, in a sense, just been defeated. For someone as competitive as her that should be a terrible emotion, but with a chuckle Amity continued.

“Heh… I’ve actually been postponing mother and daughter time, letting my natural color show, on purpose. I was doing that even before Luz showed up, but as the feelings grew, my feelings, no one else’s, it was only more reason for me not to want it dyed. Mother has been relentless about it. But I’m liking the way it is now. I don’t think its perfect. But maybe its better this way. I didn’t want Luz to know me just with this green, if she rejects me now, she’ll be reject both the colors. But yeah… Looks like you cracked me, finally.”

“Maybe it is. Look, Amity. I’m not telling you to go for it. You are wanting to ask my daughter out after all, and I shouldn’t get more involved than I already am. So all I’m going to say is just my own personal opinion. As far as I’m concerned, you’re a good kid. I didn’t ask all of that because I’m vetting you or anything like that. Well, not only that at least. But the main thing for me is that I just can’t bare to watch someone who has so many possible roads ahead stick to one she didn’t even choose herself, not after I learned how to be a mother. Not since Luz taught me that. And if this fear of her rejecting the same parts of you that your family rejected is what’s keeping you from acting on what you really want. Well, that just doesn’t seem fair to me. And you never know. I mean, I don’t think Luz ever had someone confessing their feelings to her, odds are her standards aren’t really all that high. I don’t know why she’d say no.”

Amity laughed, she had just been insulted but she just laughed. She should have been mortified, but she just laughed. Eda had once more made her laugh at herself. She felt vulnerable, as vulnerable as the sleeping Luz upstairs, but as long as she was in this home she felt as though no harm would ever come to her. She couldn’t explain this feeling, nor could she find it in her to avoid it.

“Well, that’s a pretty harsh way of putting it.”

Chuckling, Eda responds.

“You’re welcome. But you know, there’s another reason why I’m saying that. Remember that story I told you? That one about me, my sister, your parents. Well, I see a bit of everyone there in you. You have this strange shrewdness, bordering on cruelty sometimes. That’s Odalia’s. You have something about the way you talk, the way you carry yourself, even this mostly unvoiced self-depreciation. Alador was a lot like that when we were kids. You are gullible, you can just go with the motions set by others, like my sister. But you don’t want that, you want something else, you are taking your time sorting things out. That’s what I see of myself in you. But you know in who I don’t see anything of anyone in that story? Luz. She’s not exactly trying to replace her reality with a better one. Granted, I don’t know exactly why she chose to stay here and not go back to her world, I suspect there was something very much amiss in her life there. But whenever she talks about that place its not really with resentment. At least that’s how it feels like to me. She really is the wild card. If she had been there when all of that was happening, even if in the sidelines, most likely the stories of the four of us have been a lot different. What I’m trying to say is that all you have for trying to predict how she’d respond is the way she’s treated you so far. I’ll let you sleep on that. But for what it counts, and I’ll cut your tongue if you ever tell her I said this, I’m rooting for you. She deserves someone who cares about her. And tonight you convinced me that’s the case with you, you hit the last nail on that question.”

“You really think so?”

“I do, Amity. I do… Look, as far as I’m concerned, you, Willow, Gus. You’re all part of the Owl family, now. You care about Luz, she cares about the lot of you, that’s really all I could ask for. By the way, wednesday is Monopoly night.

“Monopoly?”

“Yeah, I don’t know. Its this game she found in the human garbage the other day. Kinda boring if you ask me. Just a heads up” Her expression suddenly grew dark. “Luz can get… Pretty intense… Now...”

Standing up, Eda left out a yawn, a clearly forced one, a hand covering her mouth, the other thrown way behind her back as if stretching. Of Eda’s many talents, acting was not one. Placing a hand on Amity’s shoulder again, she proceeds.

“Its pretty late. And Luz wouldn’t stop going on and on about her plans for the two of you. You’ll need some sleep, trust me. You have a big day ahead of you tomorrow. You can just leave those teacups there, I still have some reading to catch up to. I’ll wash it before I go to bed. Good night, kid.”

#ten #the owl house #edalyn clawthorne #luz noceda #amity blight

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haberdashing · 4 years ago

Text

What A Tangled Web We Weave (12/?)

TMA AU diverging from canon at the end of episode 92. Jon is forced into an arranged marriage by Elias; Martin does what he can to help.

on AO3

A few more days came and went without much happening. Martin kept waiting for the fallout from what he’d shared with Melanie, whether that was an emotional reunion with Tim or (much more likely) Tim cornering him in the hallway and insisting that they would never be friends again, but Tim just kept half-assing his archival work and taking every opportunity to leave the room and never actually talking through things.

Not the best possible outcome there, certainly, but perhaps not the worst, either.

Melanie and Basira kept to themselves for the most part, too, and Jon kept spending all his time tucked away in his office, though Martin made sure to bring him tea every day, partly in the hopes of improving his mood and partly just as an excuse to go in and see Jon again. Most days he was dismissed with a soft “Thank you” or a simple hand gesture, but that was enough.

Hyperaware as he was of any changes in this fragile status quo they’d established, Martin noticed that on this particular day Jon went up the stairs to the rest of the Institute and didn’t reappear down in the Archives for some time afterwards, but he tried not to think too much about it, didn’t breathe a word of what thoughts he’d had on the subject as he arrived in Jon’s office with tea in hand (hands, plural, really, as he held one mug off to the side for himself as he carefully placed the other onto Jon’s desk).

“Penny for your thoughts?” Martin tried his best to keep his voice upbeat and calm, to make it sound like just a casual inquiry that Jon could reject if he didn’t feel like talking through things with Martin.

Jon looked up at Martin and let out a low sigh, and for a moment Martin thought that that was all he was going to get out of Jon, and while that wasn’t ideal, he could live with that, just as he’d lived with similar dismissals for the past several days...

“Apparently they’ve decided who my future spouse will be.”

Martin was suddenly very glad that he had yet to touch his own mug of tea, because otherwise he most certainly would have spit it out at that comment.

Then he realized what it meant that not only had the decision been made, but Jon had been told about it, and Martin’s blood ran cold.

He’d thought he had more time, was the thing. Martin thought that in time maybe he could try to drop subtle hints here and there about his new alignment, perhaps soften up Jon’s opinion of spiders a bit while he was at it, but now all those plans went out the window.

And yet Jon was looking at Martin as he always did, with an expression that was difficult to read but seemed to fall somewhere between curiosity and annoyance. Not disgust, not horror, not betrayal.

“And?” Martin did his best to keep his voice level, to sound calm and collected, to stop his hand from shaking too badly as it held a still-full mug of tea he hadn’t really wanted in the first place.

“And Elias won’t tell me who it is.”

Martin let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. He still had time, then. It wasn’t over just yet. “Ah, I- I see.”

“Rather frustrating that he called a meeting just to not tell me the most important bit of information, but then, what else is new...” Jon shook his head and Martin tried not to stare, tried not to look too closely at the long strands of hair now scattered across Jon’s face, black and silver intermingled. “He did say he thought I would be ‘pleasantly surprised’, though. And then gave me that smirk he has where he knows something you don’t and he’s just lording it over you, you know the one...”

“Y-yeah, I know the one.” Martin’s head was reeling. Did Elias really think Jon would be pleasantly surprised by finding out that he’d be marrying Martin? Was he right in thinking that it’d be better for Jon to marry a spider person he knew than a spider person he didn’t? Or perhaps that was sarcasm on Elias’ part, sarcasm that had flown over Jon’s head because he didn’t know any better...

Martin didn’t plan on speaking up again, really, but he found himself doing it just the same.

“Well, think about it. Who would you be pleasantly surprised to have as a marriage partner?”

“I... I don’t know.” Jon closed his eyes briefly as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “I just stopped being wanted for murder, it’s not like I have a blossoming social life outside of this place...”

There was a conversation to be had there about how Jon had adapted to life on the run, who he had lived with (was still living with) when his own flat was suddenly off-limits, but it wasn’t one Martin especially wanted to have right now.

“Well, what about here at the Institute, then?” Martin scrambled to add more. “Tim, maybe? You two were always such good friends...”

“‘Were’ is the operative word there, I’m afraid. I think Tim might actually kill me if the alternative was us having to get married now.” Jon paused for a moment before adding, “Besides, I rather doubt Tim’s got any connection to the Web.”

“Right, well, uh...”

Two other options to ask about then, if he was sticking to Institute staff Jon interacted with regularly (Elias himself was not an option in Martin’s mind). Martin wasn’t exactly the best judge regarding women’s attractiveness, but he figured it was probably a safe bet to go with the one who could actually carry on a conversation with Jon without it inevitably turning into an argument.

“What about Basira? She seems nice enough...”

“I’m not- why does everybody seem to think...” Jon massaged his temple for a moment as his speech trailed off before looking back up at Martin with a strange expression on his face. “Wait... is this about what I think it is?”

Martin’s stomach lurched. It was probably a miracle that he had managed to avoid spilling his tea during this whole conversation, that his hands hadn’t shaken enough to send the mug’s contents flying. “What d’you mean?”

“Martin, are... are you jealous of my future spouse?”

There was no compulsion to the question, but Martin wasn’t actually sure whether that was a good thing. Part of him wanted to explain, to spill his guts without even having to think twice about it, but instead he just stood there, trying to muster up the courage to respond as he felt his face rapidly heating up.

“What? N-no, that’s, that’s not-”

“You are!” Jon made it sound like this was some sort of epiphany, using the sort of tone he usually only employed after a major research breakthrough. “Look, Martin, you don’t have to- to be jealous of the person I’m getting married to-”

“I’m not jealous! I-” Martin took a breath and tried to keep his voice steady as he spoke again, though he wasn’t sure that it worked. “I am not jealous of your future spouse.”

“If you say so.” Jon didn’t sound convinced; apparently, Martin was better at lying than at telling the truth these days. “Either way, Elias did tell me a bit more about what to expect with all of this. Did you know he’s married to Peter Lukas?”

Martin blinked a few times, the urge to further deny his jealousy fading as he parsed what Jon had to say. “Peter Lukas, the- the guy who runs the Tundra?”

“That’s the one.”

“No, I, I didn’t know that.”

“Apparently it was a similar situation, more about connecting their patrons than about them specifically--and also Institute funding, maybe? They’re married, but they barely interact with one another, and whatever deal required them getting married in the first place must not have stopped them from getting divorced... several times over, in fact...”

“Elias said all that?”

“Well, the marriage and divorce part I already knew, actually, but... the point is, I don’t know what my relationship will be like. Maybe it’ll be like Elias and Lukas, where one of them’s not even around the other one most of the time... or maybe that’s because Lukas’ god is big on isolation, it’s hard to say. But it probably won’t be quite like a normal marriage, at any rate.”

Martin knew that Jon was trying to comfort him, in a weird, roundabout way.

Martin wasn’t sure exactly how he felt about Jon being so nonchalant in discussing his upcoming marriage (their upcoming marriage), but it was pretty far off the mark from comforted.

“Don’t worry too much about it, Martin. We’ll see how things go soon enough. If we’re lucky, it won’t be long before...” Martin waited for Jon to finish the sentence, but instead, Jon just let it trail off into nothingness.

“Jon?” Martin prompted.

“Sorry, I... I was going to say ‘before things are back to normal,’ but what even is normal here? Is dealing with Prentiss normal? Is having a monster as an assistant and not knowing it normal? Things haven’t really been normal for a while now, have they?”

“R-right.” Martin’s stomach lurched at the mention of Prentiss, and lurched again at the mention of one of Jon’s assistants being a monster. He meant the thing that replaced Sasha, Martin knew that, but... “J-Jon, I-”

“Yes, Martin?”

Martin looked at Jon for a moment that seemed to last for an eternity, took in the bags under his eyes, the scars both old and new, and the way he was looking up at Martin with interest, his dark eyes wide as he waited to hear what Martin had to say next...

Martin gulped. He couldn’t do it. Damn his cowardice, but he couldn’t make himself follow through with what he had meant to say, not when Jon was looking up at him like that, clinging to his every word.

“I, er, think it’s probably time I get back to work. Hope your tea hasn’t gone cold yet after all my yammering...”

Jon nodded. “Of course, of course. And I wouldn’t worry about that, though if it’ll make you feel better-” Jon paused and picked up the mug of tea that Martin had deposited on his desk, took a sip in a motion that Martin couldn’t tell if it was actually exaggerated on Jon’s part or if he was just imagining things. “It’s still fine. Thank you, Martin.”

“N-no problem. Any time.”

When Martin closed the door behind himself, still holding his own mug of tea that he hadn’t even wanted to begin with, he felt the mad urge to chuck the mug at some piece of furniture nearby, watch it shatter against a file cabinet or see its contents slowly stain the contents of a bookshelf.

Instead, though, Martin just sighed, clutched his mug even harder, and went back to work as if nothing had happened.

#tma #tma au #tma fic #tma fanfic #the magnus archives #the magnus archives au #the magnus archives fic #the magnus archives fanfic #web martin #web martin blackwood #personal #my writing

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op-peccatori · 5 years ago

Text

a little gift | MLQC Lucien (nsfw)

Happy Birthday, Lucien! a tad later than planned, but here’s the promised birthday sex from my invitation XD Let me know what you think!

Fandom: Mr Love: Queen’s Choice

Pairing: Reader/Lucien

Rating: 18+

Wordcount: 5200

Summary: It’s Lucien’s birthday and you’ve got a wonderful trip planned for him – along with an extra gift he isn’t expecting.

Warnings: explicit sex (vaginal & anal), mild masturbation, birthday sex, sex toys, established relationship

author fact: I spent so much time sitting in one place as I wrote this that my butt too, was aching by the end of it. this is the first time I’ve ever written anything involving butts, so please let me know if it’s...right?

a/n: im gonna have to come edit this once i get some sleep. i forgot how to spell laugh.

A bite of cake and a sip of wine, with a familiar warmth nestled into his side: Lucien is dangerously content.

Not for the first time, he thinks he will never give this up for anything in the world. He could never let go of the little surges of happiness brought on by the girl holding a forkful of cake up to his lips, and not the deep love flowing in his veins, keeping him alive.

The second photo album you've ever given him rests beside the cake. The second roll. A collection of your memories.

He can’t help the way he sneaks a kiss, helpless against your smiles, the way they curve your lips up even as they’re pressed to his. It makes him shudder when he feels your tongue flick against his lip, to tempt and to taste. He’s glad for the booth they’re hidden away in, that gives them enough privacy for him to lose himself for a moment. He lets the greed slip past, eager to take whatever you give it. Before the time comes when you might not get a chance.

He suppresses the heartache at the thought. There's no telling what the future holds. Danger still lurks in shadowed corners, and it's taught him fear. Not for himself, but for the one who holds his very being in her hands.

“You had some frosting there,” you murmur when you pull away, smile coy and eyes bright, fingers tracing a gentle path along his thigh. Never stepping a foot over the line, just toying with it. He wants to step over it with you, to fall over it, to fall into bed and wherever else you can and to taste you, the sweetest dessert, his lovely girl who just wants to give him a special birthday.

And you will, once you go away tomorrow, for the weekend. He remembers the way your face fell when he told you he has important meetings he can’t skip on the day of his birthday; it was subtle, but there is nothing he can miss when it comes to you. You both had to be content with brunch for today, as he would only get home at a late hour.

“Is it going to be a tiring day for you?” you had asked, concern hiding a hint of something he can't quite identify. It would be just like you to wait up, to give him a goodnight kiss – you do it often since you haven’t had much time to yourselves for weeks.

“Well, no. I’ll have to sit through a few meetings, review some of my colleagues’ work, but nothing too exhausting,” he had assured you. You haven’t mentioned anything about meeting him when he comes back, but he’s always had endless patience for you and your adorable tricks. He watches you as you eat carefully measured bites of cake, eyes lingering on the way you lick your lips, satisfied with the sugar and his company. He has never felt more thankful for birthdays when you let him feed you small bites with little protest and an endearing blush. It makes him think, makes him want to test boundaries. But he refuses to risk hurting you for the sake of his depraved curiosity. The time to part ways arrives all too soon, and your smile dims a little; for a moment, he seriously considers quitting his job.

“I can barely wait till tomorrow,” you mumble, arms would tight around his waist and forehead pressed into his chest. You stand outside the restaurant, packed cake in hand, waiting for the bus after you declined his offer to drop you home. He nuzzles the crown of your head, breathing in the faint scent of your favourite shampoo, closing his eyes in the face of your affection. “I want you all to myself.”

Your words feel warm on his skin. “Me neither, darling. And you will. What time is the flight?”

“8 am,” you answer, and again he senses something...off. Perhaps it’s the prospect of having to get up at 6 in the morning? You're not much of an early bird unless you're coaxed out of bed by the scent of breakfast. He still remembers the first time he stayed over vividly, and not just because of how soundly he slept next to you. You had to get up earlier than usual, for a meeting, and any ideas he'd had about a chirpy morning bird were shattered by the sight of your grumpy expression. It's a memory he likes to revisit when he's feeling dull; he had slipped into unexpected laughter, and you threw a pillow at him. Then he cuddled you until all thoughts of rage-texting Victor faded.

“Want me to come wake you up?” he asks after the brief jaunt down memory lane. He doesn’t bother trying to sound innocent; they both know if he wakes you up, it’ll be with his head between your legs. No danger of a grumpy ___ then.

“...I’d like that,” you agree readily, smiling up at him. "I'm sure I'll need it. I've been so tired these days..." There's little sign of the shy desire that usually clouds your eyes when he suggests something so improper in public, even though he keeps his voice low. He would be hurt, but instead, there’s a shiver of anticipation running along his spine as you brush your lips against his, dancing away when he leans in. "Happy Birthday, Lu."

Just what is his little butterfly up to?

The question sits in the back of his mind throughout the day, through each file he reads and every person presenting their research. He doesn’t exactly know where you’re taking him, but he has a few guesses, as you had insisted on packing not only his warmer jackets and thicker shoes, but also his swimming trunks. His thoughts race through ideas, drifting back to last month when he accidentally saw you scrolling through a cute little lingerie website.

'Oh.'

As he flips through the photos you took such care to preserve, he thinks that it's okay that he sees through most of your surprises. It doesn't lessen the delight they bring. He's eager to see what you picked out, what could have caught your fancy, and he hopes he gets to see it tomorrow.

It will take him some time to admit it, but he didn’t expect what he really found waiting for him in his apartment.

You look down at your collection, of new and old, with excitement curling along your mouth and a glass of water in hand. There’s some regret, for eating cake so early in the day when you have plans, but it's not like you could have skipped Lucien's birthday cake. Or even cake in general. You resisted where you could, and you think it'll be fine. You take a moment to fantasize about the sinful dessert sitting in your refrigerator before you get to work. It's 4:00 pm, which gives you plenty of time to work, but there's much to be done.

You're trying really hard to refrain from calling Lucien. Your boyfriend's been getting melancholic again, and you've come up with just the thing to distract him on his birthday.

You shower thoroughly, shave your legs with care, scanning them in the mirror to make sure you haven't missed a spot, applying sweet-scented lotion liberally across the skin. Painful flashbacks of the Brazilian you got for today have you wincing, but you've been determined to live up to the image you painted in your head. Willow, who'd gone to get one too, treated you to ice-cream afterwards, saying it's a must after the first one. After some deliberation, you paint your nails a pearly white and decide to take a nap before you get to blow-drying your hair.

It's 6:00 by the time you scramble out of bed, fixing yourself a light dinner and texting Lucien to make sure he's eaten.

[6:03] Lu: Don't worry. Professor Collins ordered enough for the building. I suspect he feels some guilt for calling me in today.

[6:04] Y/n: I knew there was a reason I liked him! Btw, what time do you think you'll be home?

[6:06] Lu: I'll try to make it home by 12. Don't worry, I'll get up on time ;)

Mouth pursing at the reminder of his horrendous sleeping habits, you go back to your soup with a restless heart. The clock's ticking, and you're quick to finish washing the dishes, finish some last minute packing, and when there's no chore left to do, you head for your bedroom. You connect your phone to the Bluetooth speaker, settling on an upbeat song while you plug in the hairdryer. As you divide your hair into sections, you're nearly giddy with excitement. As far as you could observe, Lucien has no idea what you've got planned, and you're quite proud to have slipped this past him.

You put the device down once each strand of hair is smooth and shiny, warm to the touch. And then you undress, until you're completely bare, running your fingers over lace, giddiness giving way to trepidation.

You're thankful there's a video on the website because there's no way you could've put on the set by yourself.

As you tighten the garter belts around your thighs and adjust the lace collar, peering at your reflection in the mirror as you put on simple pearl studs, you decide that it's fine that it's not the most comfortable thing you've ever worn, because you look really good. And you think Lucien will like it. Especially the very convenient holes in the cloth.

You don’t bother to put on much makeup, keeping it simple with waterproof mascara and lip balm.

You wrap yourself in a simple robe as you hurry to the living room, picking out a pair of black handcuffs, a toy you've only used a few times, all in preparation for today, and a bottle of lube. You put them in a bag along with a towel, a pack of wet wipes and grab your phone. It's 11:30, and you have a text from Lucien saying that he'll be done soon. You put on your flats and exit your apartment quickly, letting it shut behind you as you run over to his front door, tapping in his security code with ease. Before you enter, you pull out a thick white ribbon from your bag, tying it around the handle of the door.

As you slip off your shoes, you realize it's quite strange to be in Lucien's apartment without him there. The lights are off, the curtains drawn to keep the moonlight out. In the past, he's left you dozing in his bed if he has to go to work earlier, but you've never entered the place in his absence. There's no time to ponder the peculiarities of the situation, and you head to his bedroom, your steps timid as if to avoid waking up something slumbering in the shadows.

As you open the door, you peek through the slight crack even though you know he isn't home, stepping in once you're sure it's empty and letting the door close behind you with a click. You're more than familiar with his home, but something in you shies away from invading his privacy. If he knew you were thinking this after several months of dating, he would call you a silly. And get you to stay over more often.

With a resolute nod, you move towards the bed, turning on the lamp next to it. You take out the towel first, spreading it out over his clean sheets and taking a seat on it. You pull up a pillow behind you as you lean back against the headboard, slipping your robe off and folding it, putting it in the bag. You take out your tools, spreading them out in front of you, unsure how to go about this.

The scent of him is subtle, but it's very much present. It soothes your nerves, and the thought of his reaction to your presence gives you strength as you relax your shoulders. You close your eyes, resting them and your mind for a moment, acknowledging the nervousness. Whatever he might be expecting, it's certainly not this, and you can't hold back a smile at that.

You enjoy catching him off-guard.

Your fingers brush lightly over the side of your neck, across your collarbone, through the valley of your breasts, thinking about the way he likes to explore your skin with his mouth. As you toy with your breasts, you think about how he likes to start slow, never rushing, always taking his time to draw your pleasure out. He's the biggest tease you've ever met, and you can barely keep up with the games he likes to play, but it's always worth it – he ensures it. He likes to draw out your pleasure, to take it for himself, more and more until you beg for respite.

As you begin circling your clit lightly, you think about the time you tried to wake him up and it resulted in you positioned over him, riding his face as he devoured every drop of pleasure you had in you. How tightly he'd held on to your thighs, refusing to let you move away as he ate you out with only greed and gluttony driving his mouth. When your fingers are glistening and your cheeks are flushed, you leave it there and move to the next step.

Sitting up, you reach for the bottle of lube, pouring it generously, making sure your index finger is coated well before you turn your focus to the entrance above your sex. You’re on your back now, the soft cotton of the pillow warm from your body heat; your knees are pushed up, your arm reaching down between them. The slight trepidation you had felt the first time, at the feel of your finger dipping into the tightness is all but gone now, leaving behind slightly shaky confidence.

This is something Lucien has wanted to try for a while, but he hasn’t been too direct about it. He’s never gone beyond sliding in a finger, usually, while he’s fucking you, and you decided introducing it on this special day would be perfect. It was a good idea to try it on your own first, to see if it's something you would like, and ease into it. Still, you know Lucien's going to be at least a little difficult about it since you've kept this from him for nearly a month.

You're liberal with the lube as you prepare yourself, adding another finger once you’ve adjusted to the first and you slide them in and out steadily, pressing where it feels pleasing. The flash of your phone distracts you, and you rise onto one elbow to see it's a text from Lucien.

[11:35] Lu: I'll be home in 30 :)

'He's being strangely cooperative,' you think absently. Once you’ve deemed yourself ready, you pluck out a wet wipe, wiping your hands carefully before reaching for the sleek toy and the bottle of lube. You coat it thoroughly before circling the tip around your entrance, then pushing it in slightly. You try to remain patient as you slide it in slowly, being gentle with your body, letting your tight heat adjust to the plug.

You have about ten minutes by the time you’ve pushed it in as far as it can go, it’s round ring nestled between your cheeks; you lie there for a minute, breathing heavily, your walls clenching and fluttering. But you're satisfied with the familiarity of it, confident that your idea will be executed smoothly. Your walk to the bathroom is slow, and as you wash your hands you pray he doesn’t get here before you position yourself. Hurrying back into the room, you put everything except for the lube and the handcuffs back in the bag, leaving the bottle on the side table along with your phone once you’ve switched it off, hoping that Lucien will think you're asleep, in case he calls.

And then you try to figure out how he should find you.

This, like everything else, took a lot of thought. Initially, you thought you could just lounge on your front, letting him think you're asleep. But, now is not the time to be lazy. This is the time to make your boyfriend snap and bury himself inside you so deeply he forgets everything else, if just for today. And, preferably, the next three days.

And so you crawl onto the bed, letting your head and chest rest on the firm surface, leaving your rear in the air, presented with absolutely no subtlety. You struggle a little with the handcuffs, but manage to get them on safely, without pulling any muscles. Your arms are stretched over your head, it feels ridiculous, and you’re still giggling into the sheets when you hear the front door open.

‘The things I do for love.’

You try not to squirm when the bedroom door doesn’t fly open immediately. Knowing the man, he’s probably scanning his living room. Taking his sweet time, knowing you’re in here waiting for him.

‘This position is very uncomfortable when Lucien’s not there to distract me,’ you muse to yourself, trying to adjust your head comfortably. As if on cue, the door opens.

You don’t even try to look at him. It won’t be possible, and it’ll only happen when he wants it to - you’ve ensured that by leaving the key on the table. Your heartbeat quickens as you strain your ears, jolting when you hear the door shut. Your back tenses as you pick up on the subtle sounds of him breathing, of light footsteps, of cloth rustling. You wonder what he thinks of the ring standing out between your cheeks, framed by delicate lace, and hope you don’t have to wait too long to find out.

The bed dips as he takes a seat, and your heart races like a mouse, cornered and trapped, waiting for the cat's paw to fall on it. And then he speaks.

“I have to admit, I was quite disappointed when I didn’t see you outside,” he says casually. The hoarseness in his voice belies his nonchalant attitude, as does the way he clears his throat. You can hear the smile in his tone. You’re thankful he can’t see your face because you’re certain your wide grin would look out of place right now.

“Are you still disappointed?” Your words are nearly a whisper, hushed and eager. You know he hears them when they prompt him to plant quick kisses across the plump flesh of your rear, a finger trailing across the ring keeping your plug from slipping in.

“Darling,” he begins, his hands sweeping over your body, feeling the flimsy cloth, tugging at the garter. His touch is delicate, not meant to arouse, but you shiver from it anyway. “I don’t think I could be further from disappointment if I tried. But…”

His hand dips down between your legs, fingers pressing into your slit. You bite back a whimper, surprised that you’re this sensitive. He seems to realise it too, pushing the slender digits in, meeting little to no resistance. Your walls squeeze down, palpitating around it, and you push back immediately.

“...but, I think I could do with a cup of tea, first. You don’t mind, do you? It was a long day.” A kiss on the back of your head and he’s gone, walking out of the room to get his tea, whistling obnoxiously. You're left staring at pristine sheets, unable to process his abrupt departure and your absolute helplessness in the face of it.

“Lucien!” you cry out, heart beating desperately. There's no space for shame here. “Lucien, please!” There’s no response. But you didn’t expect this to be easy in the first place. “Fuck.”

And it doesn’t get better. Lucien walks in with a cup of his favourite, steaming beverage, and just stands there at the foot of the bed, sipping it and making casual remarks like he's in a museum.

“I have to say, you’ve done a wonderful job. Did you buy this set for today?” He toys with the lace on your waist and the straps digging into your skin, his hand sliding up your back as he walks around to stand next to the bed. He, very pointedly, doesn’t mention the new toy.

You lift your head slightly, tilting it enough to get a good look at him before you nod. He’s in a skintight turtleneck, slim fit pants, but the dark of his clothes can’t compare to the one in his eyes. The ribbon you left at his door lies next to you. You don't miss the slight bulge at his crotch. He smiles at the sight of your teary eyes, glaring up at him even as you tremble.

“I guess you don’t like your surprise,” you mumble, trying to fight the pout forming on your lips. The curve of his lips fades as he blinks in surprise before sitting down next to you.

“Sweetheart, no,” he coos, placing his empty cup on the table. He leans in to kiss you on the cheek. “This is...I don’t think I have the words to describe what I felt when I walked in to see you spread out for me.”

“Was it good?” you ask softly, trying not to sound smug. You know it was good. You look like you're begging to be fucked – which you are. He chuckles at the cockiness slipping through cracks of faux sincerity.

“I don’t know how to describe it,” he repeats. He strokes your hair gently, pulling it away from your face. “Shall I show you instead?”

“Yes. Please.”

He moves towards the foot of the bed until he kneels behind you, facing your ass, his warm palms a soothing balm to your starved flesh. He caresses your skin gently, squeezing it a few times before you feel his breath on your sex. The first swipe of his tongue feels like it could ruin you, and the feeling only increases as he continues to lick into you.

“You’ve got yourself all wet for me, haven’t you? You’re such a good girl.” The first snack of his palm against your ass is unexpected; the second stings terribly and the third painfully welcome. After the seventh one, he pauses to press his mouth to your swollen entrance again, and you’re so wet you can hear the sound of him lapping at you. “But my good girl has been keeping secrets.”

“I-I wanted to surprise you!” you protest, arching your back further, trying to urge him to move faster. He hums against your slick flesh, his mouth enveloping your swollen clit a second later. It only takes a few sucking motions for you to come with quaking walls and limbs, sobbing in relief at the surprising show of mercy.

“I know you did. You’ve worked so hard to give me this,” he murmurs, curling a finger around the ring resting between cheeks that flaming red. And then you cry out again when the slender object is pulled out halfway before it’s slid back in, in repetitive, curious motions. “You’re so good to me.”

“Fuck, Lu-Lucien,” you gasp, struggling for breath. He stills at the sound of his name, a displeased sound leaving his lips.

“While I adore the view, I do think you’re too uncomfortable like this,” he decides, reaching for the key to your freedom. A part of you suspects he just hates not being able to see your face as he makes you come. You nearly collapse once your hands are freed, and Lucien is quick to gather you in his arms and lay you out on your back.

As your arms slowly reawaken, you put them to good use, pulling him over you to press up into him, nipping at his jaw until he gives in to your silent demand and kisses you deeply. He doesn’t pull away, slipping a questing tongue through your lips, tangling a hand through your hair to keep you there as he plunders your mouth without restraint. He kisses you until you’re putty in his hands, and he whispers his affection into your ears.

“Please fuck me, Lu,” you plead, just the way he likes it. You place his hand on your breast, arching into his touch; you're deeply aware of the extra addition in your body, pushing against your walls, keeping your feet dipped in a pool of pleasure when you want to drown in it. “Please. It’s all I’ve been thinking about all day.”

He inhales sharply at your words and moves away to undress slowly, letting your eyes rove across the hard planes of his torso, lean muscle flexing as he moves closer. You watch the way his cock bounces before he wraps a hand around it, giving it a few, sure pumps. He nearly succeeds in distracting you with a kiss, but you still open your mouth demandingly, widening your eyes in the way that never fails. Never one to deny you anything, he climbs over you, kneeling and bending until he can slide the tip of his plump cock into your mouth. You suck at it eagerly, swallowing more and more of him until you choke, until all you can taste is the He slides his swollen shaft out and back in, breathing heavily, groaning at the feel of your wet mouth and zealous tongue.

You whine when he pulls away, quieting when he climbs down the length of your body to kneel between your legs. He unclasps the straps around your thighs and waist, pulling them off to toss them on the other side of the bed. After a second of consideration, he strips you of the bra as well but leaves the lace collar on. You're left completely exposed and shivering, aching with the need to feel his skin. He locks eyes with you as he wraps his hands around your thighs, pushing them up until you’re spread out, ready to be taken apart.

“My darling girl, my heart.” His fingers curl over your breasts, tweaking and tugging, his mouth dropping down to suck at a pebbled nipple. You sigh as your fingers slither into his hair, as he rises up to press his cock to your entrance. He slides in all the way and it feels so full you could cry. “God, Lucien. I...it feels so good.” Strange, but you adjust to it. Each drag of his hips, of his skin against yours, feels like it’s setting you on fire. You scramble to catch hold of something, an anchor, before you slip; you pull him down into an urgent kiss as your hips buck up into him.

He groans into your mouth and leans closer, swallowing your gasps; it’s unbearable, as if you’ll break, and as his thrusts speed up, you push back into him frantically, chasing after the fall, the rise, the destruction – it doesn’t elude you, he doesn’t rip it away but throws you into it instead. He leans back, reaching down for the plug and thrusting it into you, syncing its motions with that of his cock. Before you can comprehend the sudden pressure you’re coming so hard it blinds you, makes you scream, has tears pooling in your eyes. Lucien works you through it gently, with lips quirked up at the way you babble, kissing you so, so softly your heart floods with how much you feel for this man. With a pounding heart, you watch as he reaches for the drawer, plucking out a condom and grabbing up the lube.

"Are you sure, darling?" Your response is to push your knees further until they're nearly level with your shoulders. He watches you as he lathers his cock with the liquid, using his other hand to pull your plug out. You got used to it, you realize, when it feels so empty. But he doesn't let it remain so, pressing the head of his leaking shaft against your entrance. You're treated to the full depth of his patience, as he dips in and out, getting further in with each propulsion. His eyes spark with every moan, his lips brush your mouth at every discomfited grunt.

Once he's deep within you, in this new territory, and your head is thrown back, your mouth has fallen open at the feeling – he leans back and begins to thrust. His groans are everything you wanted to hear, and you can't help but smile up at him, unable to tear your eyes away from his bright eyes. There is no sign of the gloom, the sorrow. There's life, there's desire as he tests out all the different ways he can make you moan.

"I love you," you blurt out instead, overcome with the sudden flow of emotion. He slows as you tear up, to your immense embarrassment, and try to throw your arm over your head to cover it up. 'There was nothing sexy about that!'

And then you nearly choke as, in one swift movement, he wraps your legs around his waist and pulls you up against him. He shudders, clutching you to him as you throw your arms over his shoulders, eyes rolling back into your head when he slips deeper. Your kiss is frenzied, as are his thrusts when they start anew, and then you do cry when he whispers his love, his praise against your lips, over and over again. Your nails dig into his skin, and his teeth sink into yours. You sob harder when he presses you into the bed, drilling into you like a man crazed and sliding his fingers into your throbbing sex.

His eyes glow as he strikes where it shatters you, and you're blinded by it – completely consumed by the force of it, the way it leaves you in pieces, but even through your quaking limbs and the ringing in your ears, you feel Lucien pull out of you. Through bleary eyes, you watch him rip the condom off hastily before sliding through your oversensitive slit. He chokes out a guttural groan, clinging to you as he falters, the snapping of his hips unsteady as he comes almost violently, pumping himself into you, filling you up past what you can hold.

For a long moment, the only sounds in the room are of you two trying to catch your breath.

“Happy Birthday,” you whisper, pressing a shaky kiss to his cheek. He stays curled over you, staring down at your flushed face, your hair now far from smooth and sticking to your skin. His damp bangs fall haphazardly across his forehead, his lips are kissed red and he's so beautiful you need to look away before you cry again.

His eyes are suspiciously shiny as he kisses your forehead gently. “I love you, my darling girl.”

As he settles next to you on the bed, you turn over gingerly. You're completely spent, sore and sweaty. Still, you aim for casualness, ignoring the slight tremble in your legs. "Excited for tomorrow?"

“Very,” he answers once you’re curled up into him, and he can play with your hair to his heart's content. “I'm glad we have the whole weekend to ourselves.”

You gasp in mock outrage. "I do have an itinerary, you know." And you’ve also opened a new door for you both. You have no doubt Lucien will be experimenting on you until he’s familiar with every inch of this new area, and the slight fear you feel is understandable. He can be quite enthusiastic when it comes to figuring out what makes you tick.

"So do I." His smirk is positively feral and you can't help but snort.

“Think we can shower before bed?”

“Yes, if you’d like,” he gathers you into his arms gently, then sinks back into the bedding. “...maybe in some time. Are we actually leaving in the morning?“

You know your smile is a tad impish when he pinches your cheek. “We’ve got an afternoon flight.” If all goes according to plan, your boyfriend's birthday weekend will have a very pleasant start – with your mouth wrapped around his cock. You just have to make sure you wake up before him.

#mlqc lucien #mlqc smut #mlqc #mr love queen's choice #mlqc fanfic

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