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bonny-kookoo · 4 years

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Good Girl [J.JK x Reader]🔞🌼

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Smut, Fluff, a lil angst

Warnings: dom/sub dynamics, dom!jungkook, sub!Reader, size kink, oral (f & m rec.), mild dd/lg themes, praise kink, cumplay, reader is a virgin, jungkook is lowkey a hoe, a lil heartbreak, Taehyung makes an appearance, long haired jungkook, mentions of harrassment, jungkook punches a guy, strength kink

Jeon Jungkook was known to have a specific type when it came to his partners; tall, gorgeous, dominant and older. It's not like he's a true blood baby boy; he's just too lazy to put any effort into his flings. When a new girl answers to his ad online searching for a roommate for his apartment to share rent and space however, he didn't quite expect such an innocent being to turn up at his doorstep with a box full of pastel colored belongings, ready to move in. And what he definitely didn't expect was his growing interest in her and the feeling of having her under him, all submissive and ready to be ruined.

Good Girl || Sweet Girl || Smart Girl || Brave Girl || Pretty Girl || Charming Girl || Enticing Girl || Bad Girl || ???

A wink was all he got from the woman who'd occupied his bed together with him last night as she walked out his bedroom door, seemingly knowing how to get out of his apartment. Jungkook ran his hand through his still sweaty hair, groaning after stretching his arms above his head, his mood seemingly sunkissed. He just finished an almost three hour sex-session after all; all without him providing any actual effort. His dick had seemed to be enough for her anyways, her face when she rode him happy, although he could really care less.

Reaching for his laptop near his bed, he didn't bother to put on any clothes for now, just wanting to check if he'd gotten any new E-Mails or messages, clicking through the casual nudes that constantly seemed to slip into his postbox. He cocked his head to the side however when he noticed that a website has notified him of an answer to his ad online; he'd put it up some time ago now after Taehyung, his former roommate, had to move out simply because Jungkook himself couldn't survive the older one's sleep shedule. Tae seemed to never sleep, waking the younger one up on a daily (and nightly) basis. He really tried to get along with him, both of them sharing a deep friendship, but god no, as a roommate he couldn't stand that guy. His rent however was something he struggled as well, so as much as he really wanted to live alone, he couldn't. He clicked the message on the website, his interest peaked.

"Hello. Is this AD still up to date? My name is Y/N, and I'm searching for a place because I'm starting to work close by soon, and its too expensive to take the bus for hours on end every day.. so uh, I don't know? I'm really good at cooking, and I promise I'll be so quiet and organized you won't even notice I'm there! I work at a restaurant nearby as a waitress- I mean, I'm going to, haha. Ugh, I hope you're okay sharing your apartment with a girl as well, I for my part don't have a problem with that! So, I guess, I'll wait for your reply?

Have a nice day!"

He scoffed a little, hovering over the delete button, but instead, he clicked her profile icon, opening the details. Her profile picture showed a white big dog, being hugged by what he assumed was her. He couldn't see her face however, half of her face above her nose cropped out to fit the entire dog instead. He could spot her clothes however; a top and skirt, flat shoes and sheer tights with white spots on them. His brows furrowed, how old was she? Her profile said she was about a year younger than him, every post she'd made up to this date about pet stuff, clothes who all seemed to follow a pastel-color scheme, and artwork you seemed to be selling. You were basically the definition of cute.

Fan-fucking-tastic. Hopefully you wouldn't be too upset when he denied your request, but somehow he thought it over. You said you could cook and you did seem like an organized person. Knowing what kind of effect he could have on people, he could probably scare the shit out of you and keep you around without really having to interact much; and rent was also due this month, so the sooner he found a roommate the better. "Fuck it." He said, and began to type his reply.

When his doorbell rang, he almost burned his hand with the hot water he currently used to make himself a cup of ramen, cursing loudly. Who the fuck wasn't home again so he had to take their package in? One day the old lady across the hall would find a dead rat or something in front of her door, he swore to himself. Ripping the door open with so much force he could feel a bit of wind gushing by, his eyes widened when he saw a similar face in front of him- well, a little below actually. He remembered your lips instantly for some awkward reason, having tried to maybe paint a picture of what you looked like entirely over the last few days. He would've never expected something like this however- you looked like a literal doll in his opinion, your eyes wide open and mouth a little parted, shiny lipgloss making him swallow. Wait, did he really forget that you said you wanted to move in today?!

"I uh.. I'm- I'm Y/N, we- I- the ad..?" You said, your voice sounding nothing like the woman he usually was around. He smirked a little, moving so you could step inside, food now definitely forgotten on the kitchen counter. He really should've at least cleaned up a little he thought. Whatever.

"Yeah, figured. There you go, thats your room. The keys and shit are on the matress, make sure you don't loose 'em." He simply said, before leaving you alone in your new home to settle down.

"What I'm trying to say is, Y/N, you and I, this could really be something!" Taehyung slurred into your ear, loud enough for Jungkook to hear. For some reason it pissed him off to no ends how close the older one seemed to be, constantly hitting on you like he was a starving man, even know half of town knew very well that he wasn't. He could see why; you were innocent, and Tae known to fool around a lot. You were a challenge, something new for him, and he would lie if he said that he wasn't interested as well. Oh he was; but he also had at least some manners left inside of him, contrary to popular belief not only thinking with his dick. Taehyung however was only out for fun, making Jungkook question if he should really let this continue.

He decided no.

"Alright you fucking whore, it's bedtime isn't it? I'll call you a cab." Taehyung groaned at the younger one's words, nodded his head however before looking at you with a smirk.

"Ah, what a shame. But if you wanna have some fun you know my number!" He said, as if he didn't just offer you sex. You blushed at this, not answering, making Jungkook watch you a bit. You really were something else. "Jungkookie, you're so nicee... If I was gay I would definitely suck your dick-" The younger in question made a disgusted yet amused face, putting a hand over the blue haired one's mouth.

"Yeah yeah, you pay me back though you fucker." He said, before going into the kitchen to make the call. Taehyung, being left alone with you again started with his questioning, as he had done the entire night.

"So, Y/N.." He said, dragging out the last syllable of your name playfully, making you shuffle around where you were sitting a bit. He certainly was a pretty attractive guy, but he also seemed to be very straightforward- something you always had struggled with, being more on the shy side. You looked at him, silently urging him to continue before taking a sip of your own beer- cherry flavored, simply because the regular was too bitter in your opinion. "What kind of toys do you use, heh?" He questioned, and you coughed suddenly. Taehyung laughed loudly at that, cooing when you calmed down slowly.

"Taehyung, stop harassing my roommate you fucking idiot. I need her to pay half of the rent-" He said, before sitting down next to you, raising one of his eyebrows at you. "And she also makes some killer lasagna. Kinda wanna keep that." He said, before laughing a bit. Even though Jungkook seemed to be pretty intimidating to you, he was actually a pretty good guy to have around. You both barely ever fought, and overall you could almost see yourself falling for him too- he had the looks after all. But his habit of bringing people over just to satisfy himself was something that made you keep some distance between you both. He wasn't someone to settle down- let alone with someone like you. You were pretty much the exact opposite of what he seemed to like.

Sending Tae home was easier than you both thought. Not being able to go to bed you both decided to watch some late night shows while casually talking- something that wasn't uncommon between you two. Just when you seemed to have gotten comfortable again, Jungkook couldn't help but tease you again.

"So, what Toys do you use, heh?" He said, laughing with his head thrown back afterwards at your red face. This would certainly never get old in his opinion. Just as he was about to apologize and tell you you didn't have to answer, your voice was heard, however.

"None." You said, and his eyes widened at that. "What? Do I look like I do these things to you?" You asked, and he cocked his head to the side a bit, scanning you obviously. He shrugged, and you began to pout, moving to wrap your pastel pink blanket around yourself. "I don't even know how to buy one. That stuff is just.. don't know. Gross." You said, and Jungkook turned on the couch, body facing you now, his interest sparked.

"Gross? So you never had sex before?" He said, and you went silent. Were you serious right now? You were an angel in his eyes, body proportions almost perfect, hell, even your slight imperfections were adorable in his eyes. Up until now he had been sure that you at least have had your fair share of experience, but a virgin? His world was suddenly turned upside down. "Well.. that's something I didn't expect." He said, making you raise your eyebrows at him. "You're hot. Thats why. Oh well." He said, missing the way your eyes widened at that. "I'm gonna go to bed now. Goodnight." He simply said, and you answered with a short 'goodnight' as well- still a bit surprised by his statement. Jungkook thought.. you were attractive?

He'd somehow gotten used to you, how you would leave your pastel pink but admittedly really soft blanket in a pile on one edge of the couch in the living room, how you sometimes left your toothbrush in the sink when you'd been in a hurry, or how you would hum to a song, not knowing he could hear you very clearly. Maybe he really did go soft after living with you for a while. He still didn't know himself why he got so upset with Taehyung the day prior; was he really being selfish? He was protecting you, nothing more. Taehyung was everything but a gentle lover, jungkook just knew he'd break you for sure, not to mention that you already stated how much you despised one night stands, which were practically Taehyungs speciality. He was just looking after you, nothing more.

The more he thought about it however, the more problematic the entire plan became.

But even now, while the young woman whose name he had already forgotten was giving it her all sucking his dick, all that seemed to swim around in his head were the events of the previous evening; how innocent and embarrassed you looked at him when you told him you'd never bought, let alone use a toy before. Surely you'd be someone to enjoy a good vibrator he thought, maybe as a gag he could buy you one? Oh how enchanting you'd look, spread out on his mattress while he would edge you over and over until you'd be crying, begging for his mercy. He would praise you for taking it so well, for being so good for him and only him, and he just knew you would blush. Instead of rushing to his own satisfaction, he would go slow, agonizingly slow, just to see how far he could push you. He would feast on you like a predator on his prey, pull you close so you had no chance of escaping him, he would trace every curve of your skin, gently, as if to make up for the bruises and Mark's he would surely leave all over you to feed his inner need to claim you, even though he would never let anyone see you like this while he was alive and breathing anyways. He just knew you would fit perfectly underneath him, his body covering you and shielding you away from the world around. Would you be able to take all of him? He probably would have to stretch you real good before even thinking about pushing his dick inside you, yet he just knows you would somehow make him proud and take it all, and he would continue his praises, telling you what a good girl you are.

He almost laughed at the situation, he really was in deep, wasn't he? Frustrated and confused he started to picture someone else entirely kneeled between his legs on the floor, how you'd bat your eyelashes at him like the fucking angel you were instead of the girl currently there, and that thought alone gave him the final push to shoot his load down the strangers throat, who moaned obscenely at the feeling. Usually he would be aroused, ready for more, but the sound of someone who wasn't his little roommate ripped him out of his daydream. This couldn't go on like that. Sending the lady out without many words, he decided that he just needed to fuck you, and all would be good again. He was just curious. Nothing else. He just needed to satiate his hunger and he could go back to normal.

How would he be able to do this without ending up hurting you? No matter how big his hunger for you was, he also considered you somewhat of a friend. He remembered when you came home crying one time after a bad day at work, and how he wanted to hold you, shielding you from any harm, making you feel safe. Because that's what he, and only he could do in his opinion. No matter what, he'd protect you, as weird as that sounded. Shit.

He really had a crush on you.

Unknowing to him you always held your hands over your ears whenever he brought home a different girl, not being able to listen to his moans mixed with someone else's. You were slowly beginning to regret moving in, already starting to think about maybe searching for a different apartment. But the rent was cheap, your room big, and his company relaxing when he wasn't busy being buried in someone he couldn't even remember after a day or two. Somehow tears were leaking out of your eyes, and you took your hands down from the sides of your head to wipe them away, careful to be as silent as possible as to not alert him that you were awake, well aware of the shower turning on. You did notice however how his sessions became shorter and shorter, always seeming to end sudden instead of usual. But the more you thought of it, the more angry at yourself for falling for this manwhore you became. You really should hate him- but you couldn't.

Tonight was definetely the prime example of why you didn't go into clubs. The sheer amount of people around you, the smell of sweat and cheap cologne and perfume all around made you feel like a headache was inevitable. Why were you here again? Oh yes. You followed Taehyungs advice and 'tried to make friends' instad of looming around your apartment all day. But right now you just really wished you stayed home instead of going here.

Sure, you liked your coworkers, and they seemed nice and everything, but if you were being honest, they're definition of fun was entirely not yours. You began to feel cramped up in the large club, making you desperately pull your phone out of your pocket, texting Jungkook in hopes he could save you from this god forsaken torment they called a club.

Minutes later, after Jungkook oh so gentlemanly told you to pick you up, you stood in front of that said location, waiting for his cheap but admittedly nice car to pull up. Sadly, someone else seemed to be way more intent on bringing you home- a young man your age, attractive, yes, but also heavily intoxicated. He had already eyed you up inside the building you noticed, yet hadn't made a move towards you. Now however, he seemed more determined than ever.

"Lets go home baby, I swear you won't regret-" He started, but you moved away from him, clenching onto your little handbag in order to at least keep your belongings safe if he tried anything else. Suddenly both your figures were drowned in the warm light of Jungkook's car lights- you immediately recognized them simply by the fact that one was brighter than the other, something you always told him, yet he always waved you off, telling you that both were doing just fine, even though his left light was clearly almost dead. Typical him, you thought. Yet right now, you couldn't be happier to see him.

He however, did not seem happy at all. His face was serious, his wavy hair hanging a little over his eyes, steps fast and strong enough that you could hear his black boots almost crush the slight gravel of the parking lot. "Fuck off sunnyboy and go back inside." He simply yelled out, having already seen how uncomfortable you were with the stranger so close to you. Jungkook wasn't someone to blindly punch someone, that said however, he couldn't contain himself once he saw the guy reaching out for your arm, your figure instinctively scrambling to get behind Jungkooks way larger body. He didn't even notice his fist connecting with the strangers face, simply leading you by the small of your back inside his car, driving home without any more words.

You were not to be touched by someone so dirty like this young man who didn't even knew his own limits it seemed.

Yet you were completely confused now. Maybe, if you were now the reason he got into physical fights, you should make a decision.

The next morning, sitting down at the kitchen table, you watched Jungkook filling your bowl with cereal as well- lucky charms for you, and chocolate chips for him. It became somewhat of a routine since you both woke up roughly around the same time, sharing breakfast was common. The best moment in your opinion to pop the bomb.

"I'm moving out." You said softly, fiddling with your fingers in your lap, leg nervously bouncing up and down. Why did this feel like you were breaking up with him? You both would've ended up going separate ways sooner or later anyways- so he would probably just nod, ask when, and that would be it. He was someone who didn't bother much. But the second you said it, he turned around completely shocked, suddenly very much awake.

"Why? Did I do something?" He asked, sounding genuinely offended for some reason you couldn't come up with. In his mind, scenario over scenario started to play, as if he wanted to search for something he may have said or done to make you so upset that you didn't want to live with him anymore. He knew he shouldn't be so upset over it, since you and him were merely roommates, friends who shared an apartment, nothing more, but he never really expected you to come up with it so sudden. Or maybe you had a boyfriend? What if it was Taehyung, and you just didn't tell him? He would rip that fucker's stupid blue hair out, he knew-

"No. I- not reall-" You sighed, setting your elbows on the kitchen table before letting your head fall into your hands. "Actually yes, you did." You started, looking at him, but unable to hold eye contact with the now completely confused curly haired boy in front of you. "You.. uh.. I cant sleep. Your, 'guests', the walls aren't really soundproof and like, I really- and just.. ugh this is so awkward, please don't make me say it-" You said, groaning the rest of your sentence before stubbornly shoving your back against the chair, throwing your legs back and forth viciously, reminding Jungkook of a kid who was close to throwing a tantrum. Even though this was definitely not the time to think about you laid out over his leg, his hand hitting your perfectly shaped butt until it was red just to punish you for being such a brat, exactly this picture began to form in the back of his head. He hated himself somehow, really. But somehow instead of accepting your decision, he moved to stand at the table, hands on top of it, eyes searching yours.

"Say it Y/N. You know I hate when I have to pull thing out your throat sweetheart." He didn't intend on using the nickname, but somehow he threw his hesitation out the window. If you really were fooling around with someone, someone who wasn't him he wanted to know- and even if you didn't share that information with him, you would move out anyways, so why hold back anymore? You shook your head at him, avoiding his gaze, and he clicked his tongue, patience slowly thinning out. "Spit it out." He said again, but he still got no reaction. His hand seemed to move without his consent when he suddenly found his fingers on your chin, moving your head to force your attention towards him. "Speak the fuck up, I swear to god." He said, voice dropping down lower, and somehow you seemed as if bewitched.

Maybe it was the way he stood there, how he still held your chin, or how intensely he looked at you, but words dropped out of your mouth as if you drank harry potters truth potion. "I cant stand that you let these girls touch you, that they can get you so easily and you just look past me a- and I really tried you know, because Taehyung said you liked mature girls more so I tried to do that, but he lied to me, you don't notice me at all, you're so mean you-" He shut your mouth with his mouth, trying to process the information he just received, yet it seemed like it was too much at once. You were.. jealous? And what kind of stupid advice was Taehyung giving away, that fucker? It was true that he liked his women to be confident and mature, but that was just so they knew what they were doing, and he didn't need to put so much effort into something he could get so easily.

"So you were jealous?" He said, a small smirk creeping up on him, cooing at you internally when you shook your head, face red. "If you wanted me to fuck you, you could've just asked. Geez." He said, but instead of being relieved, your shoulders sagged down. "What?" He asked, and you mumbled to him.

"Because I don't want just that one time stuff you do." Jungkook looked at you, eyes softening at your somehow-confession. He just put together the pieces in his head, and it did make sense. You were practically attached to him wherever he took you, always seemingly glowing whenever his attention was on you. He was as much as a dense head than you were, and he couldn't help but pull out a chair and sitting down, patting his legs as an invitation.

"Good, because I don't want that either. And I don't share either." He said, and looked at you gently, but with a deep darkness behind his eyes. "Trust me baby, you can sit down now and I promise you'll be the only one to have me- or you can move out and go on with your life." He almost laughed at the way it suddenly clicked in your head on what he was offering, suddenly jumping up and sitting on his thighs, legs on either side of his body. He looked down at you, a divine picture coming to life. His hands were placed on the exposed skin under your skirt, slowly sliding over the soft skin until his fingers felt the seam of your tights- those goddamn things he'd wanted to rip off of you so badly these past days. "You can touch me, you know?" He said lowly, and you noticed how awkward you must've looked for a second, seated on his lap with your hands in front of you, unsure where to put them. Just to ground yourself, your fingers began to play with his shirt, and he had to swallow the laugh that wanted to break free. "You don't have to do this, you know? I'm fine with waiting-" He began, but you immediately shook your head, however, at loss for words. He smiled again, dangerously so you noticed. His head dipped down, finally touching your skin on your neck with his lips, leaving open mouthed kisses under your earlobe down to the crook, hands moving over your clothes already mapping out your body in his mind, one hand pulling down one side of your soft fleece jacket you wore, pulling down your shirt as well, so he could softly nip at your shoulder, making you gasp oh so cutely at his actions. His hands didn't stop however, moving over your chest, kneading both of your breasts softly, as if he would hurt you if he used too much strength- which was probably the case. He already loved how bis his hands looked running over your body, how your hands held his shirt in fists, eyes closed, yet not because of fear; you looked serene to him, face showing him the soft pleasure you felt. He suddenly moved you a little, making you straddle one of his leg, core pushed against his thigh. "Let's start slow, yeah?" He asked, whispering words into your ear, lips never parting from you. He slowly began to move your hips, urging you to simply follow what you thought felt best to you. "Use me baby. Get off on my thigh." You whined at that, slowly starting to move more and more boldly, and he decided that he was officially a goner. Even if you didn't want him after whatever may be happening, he knew he could never go back. The way you squeezed your eyes shut every now and then, moving back and forth yet always a bit helpless, showing how inexperienced you were. He could feel the wet patch forming on his jeans, his hands moving you a bit faster, before you let your head fall onto his shoulder, making him chuckle. "What is it baby? Do you need help, hm?" He said, a bit mockingly even, and you nodded into his shoulder. "Tell me what you need then. What do you want, princess?" He said, running his hands over your back, feeling your bodyheat through your clothes.

"wanna get the same.. as the others.." You mumbled, unsure what you were even asking for. Jungkook however simply smiled, suddenly lifting you up, hands under your behind carrying you to his room, before finally letting you fall onto his mattress, laughing when your body jumped a little, making you squeak so cutely. He smiled, crawling over you, his fantasy finally coming to life- you looked so lost under him, so utterly defenseless he could swear he could feel something primal awake inside him- and that was not his dick, which already strained against his jeans, impatient.

"Ah but Baby.." He began, taking off your soft jacket before his hands traced your bare arms until he moved them under your shirt, feeling your skin underneath his fingers. "You're my special girl.." He began to lift your shirt up, helping you out of it before he got rid of your skirt as well, chuckling at your cute lacey underwear, which was so typically you. So innocent, yet so arousing, how you squirmed underneath him in nothing but those pastel colored undergarments. "And special girls get special treatments.." His words were low, soft spoken yet with a rough edge to his tone, a natural feature of his voice that you've come to love. You couldn't even begin to paint out a picture of what he was talking about- sure, you have seen your fair share of adult films, you weren't a kid after all- but up until this moment, up until you met Jungkook, you've never really thought about what you could like when it came to these things. Even in your thoughts you felt shy saying any profanities out loud, how could you expect to know about kinks? "But only if you can behave for me, but you can do that right?" He said, unhooking your bra behind your back with ease and interrupting your inner talk with yourself. "You'll be my good girl, yeah?" He said, and you just viciously nodded, already growing frustrated, and oh how he loved it. This was how he had pictured you. If he had known before that this was what it felt like to have control over someone, he would've never done anything else if he was honest; but then again, you really were a special girl to him. The way you suddenly mewled when his hand cupped your heat, giving you a little pressure just to tease you even further almost caught him off guard. God have mercy on his soul, you were so sensitive to him, and it dawned on him again that he was making you this way. He was the first to- and he would make sure he'd be the only one as well. All those noises tumbling out of between your lips were only his to hear. His breathing peaked up at the view he had, how you began to impatiently rut into his hand, needy for more than he was giving you. He leaned back, finally getting rid of his own clothes as well to your satisfaction, lazily throwing his opened flannel as well as his white shirt somewhere on the floor in his room, and you couldn't help but stare. Truth be told, you didn't really know what to expect of him if you were honest, his constant gym visits giving you the impression that he had to be extremely fit, yet his habit of consuming more than two cups of ramen easily spoke differently. He was, in your eyes, the perfect in-between- he definetely was fit, his abs visible to your eyes, yet he didn't look like those over-achievers you sometimes saw walking around the same gym whenever you met him there to go home together. The way his muscles flexed at every move when he loomed over you again made you want to touch him, yet your shy side forbade you. He chuckled again. "You can touch what's yours all you want, you know?" He said, before he began to place his hand back onto your chest, his breath hot on your collarbone where he placed his kisses again, already hooked on your taste. His other, tattooed hand found its way back to your core, feeling the dampness there with amusement. You were more than what he'd imagined. Slowly he got rid of that barrier however, leaving your tights on for his own pleasure and maybe also for the aesthetic of it, his digits circling around your sensitive bud, making you squeal again, putting your hands over your mouth to keep your voice down. He clicked his tongue at this, moving them to lay right under the small of your back. "Be good and keep them there, yeah?" He said, and you looked away.

"But its- thats emb-" You couldn't even finish the beginning of your rant before he went back to his task at hand, sitting back before moving your legs to spread obscenely over his thighs simply to catch a glimpse of your glistening center, before he placed his body over yours again, hand now roughly circling in delicious eights around your clit, making you gasp out.

"Nothing you do is embarrassing, you hear me. If anything its fucking hot how you can be so fucking adorable even with my hand between your legs, doll." He said, before dipping a finger into you, making you move a bit at the foreign feeling. "Gotta stretch you out babygirl.." He said lowly, careful not to get too fast. His second finger joined in, and he could feel how tight you were around them, already clenching a bit as well, making his mouth water, but also growing a bit of worry in the back of his mind. Usually he was quite cocky about his overly average qualities down in his pants, but now he was genuinely concerned to hurt you with it. This was definitely a first for him. "Baby you're so small.. I don't think you can take it.." He said, a bit of a teasing undertone to his words as well. "See? You're already squeezing my fingers so hard princess, how could my dick ever fit inside huh?" He said, contrary to his otherwise rough nature keeping his movements gentle and slow enough for you to adjust without causing much pain. He could see the slight discomfort in your eyes, yet you suddenly shook your head, voice whiny.

"Uh-uh.." You mumbled, and he laughed a bit at that. "can take it.." You said bratty as ever, feeding his ego to no ends. "Wanna have it- you.. you gon' give it right? 'm good.." You said, having troubles keeping your hands under your back just like he told you to, grabbing the sheets underneath you instead to have something to keep yourself grounded.

Jungkook couldn't stop smiling. You didn't even know what you were asking for, yet you seemed so drowned in trust with him, that you simply gave him the right to do anything he wanted with you. "You sure?" He said, and smiled at the way you nodded again with your eyes closed. He moved away after that, shedding his pants before he walked over to his bedside table, fishing out a condom, before moving back to you, your eyes now on him, or more than that, on his very apparent bulge his boxers failed to conceal. Maybe you really did ask for more than you could take. Quite literally. Sensing your growing uneasiness he simply discarded his underwear, cock finally springing free, slapping soundlessly against his abdomen before he sat between your legs again. You made grabby hands for the foil package in his hands, somehow wanting to slip it onto him, yet he shook his head amused. "Nuh-uh baby. I'm afraid if you touch me right now I'll just embarrass myself and come straight away." He said, and you giggled at that. The sound of it brought him back at ease, his little joke having helped to calm you down at least a little bit. He knew this was a big thing, especially for someone like you- and it made him feel even a bit pressured if he was honest. He was slow when he dipped his head inside, your body instinctively trying to move away a bit, but you forced yourself to stay still, eyes now pressed close. Moving around a bit he kept one hand around the base of himself, the other steadying himself next to your shoulder, kissing you on your lips for the first time since you both started, surprising you enough to not notice how he somehow began to glide into you with the help of your arousal and the lubricant of the condom around him. He groaned, the first actual noise he'd made you could tie to his pleasure, and your breathing picked up once you noticed how full you felt. Gasping several times he suddenly started to laugh, making you giggle as well, even though you didn't knew what was so funny in that situation. "God- ugh.. your- fuck you're tight.." He pressed out, fighting hard against his hips' own mind yelling at him to move, to wreck you, to utterly ruin you. But he couldn't allow himself to do that- reassuring himself that he would have time for that at a later date. He slowly started to move around after he calmed down enough, keeping his speed down to keep it gentle for you. "I- fuck.." He started, having to talk to stretch his patience out, and to also ease your mild pain a little bit. "Let's- ugh.. Let's go on a date tomorrow, yeah? I.. god-" He said, and you nodded, moaning in your delicate pitch he oh so loved. "Gonna be all romantic and shit- fuck- gonna treat you like- for Mcdonald's or some shit." He said, making you both laugh between gasps of pleasure, your hands suddenly frantically moving around the sheets, legs shaking as he began to speed up his pace. You didn't knew what an orgasm would feel like, or how you knew you would have one, but you gasped, chocking on unshed tears in frustration as you noticed that you couldn't tumble over that delicious edge, and Jungkook noticed, cooing at you. "Ah, my baby can't come without her little clit being touched?" He said, kissing the side of your neck, biting the skin teasingly before sucking a hickey on your collarbone, his hands now grabbing yours, fingers intertwining with his, before moving them around his neck, sensing how you wanted to be closer to him, even though that hardly seemed possible. "Come for me baby, you can do it." He said, kissing your shoulder as if to make up for his mark he'd left, his hand now reaching between your bodies, only needing to put a bit of pressure on your little nub to send you flying. You moaned out loud, uncaring on how you sounded, clinging onto him for dear life, his own release making him groan out as well.

He could feel your body trembling, your breathing still fast. He waited for a moment or two for himself to soften up so he could pull out gently- your still slightly clenching hole almost pushing his dick out of yourself. You whined at the empty feeling, and he hushed you gently, moving around so he was sitting up against his headboard, your body on his lap, head on his shoulder. His hand moved back and forth over your spine, the other keeping your body steadily against him. "You did so, so good baby." He gently whispered between your breaths still coming out a little faster than they should. "To be honest I actually was kind of worried you wouldn't be able to take it. I'm impressed princess." He said, making you giggle. You still weren't quite back yet, still bathing in your own afterglow, and he simply waited for you to calm down- slowly becoming aware of your surroundings again.

"Hey, Jungkookie.." You started with that nickname Taehyung always teased him with, yet you would get away with it anytime on his watch. He simply moved his head to look at you, even if you weren't at him. "Did you.. like, mean it? Are we.. a couple now, or?" You started a bit too softly, yet you didn't have to be scared of his answer to that.

He took a deep breath, before yawning a bit. "If you want us to be. I know I want to." He started, brushing some hair away from your eyes. You looked at him, big eyes so innocent like he didn't just fuck you into his mattress literally minutes ago.

"I want to!" You immediately said, making him chuckle and place a kiss on your nose, receiving a giggle at that, before you tensed up. He raised his eyebrows at that, before you looked at him surprised. "My legs are all- tingly.. Jungkook did you break me- HEY don't laugh!" You said, but he couldn't help himself.

He threw his head back, laughing his admittedly cute open laugh, before wrapping his arms around your body. "God I love you." He simply said, making you smile.

"Hey Jungkookie?" You said after a bit.

"Yeah Princess?" He answered.

"That McDonald's date still stands, right?" You said with a small voice, making him snort.

"Anything you want princess. Anything you want."

Taglist:

@mrcleanheichou @sugasbratz @sassysaxsolo @bananagukkie @wh3resangel @urmomgee

#jungkook #jungkook fanfic #bts jungkook imagine #bts imagine #jungkook smut #jungkook imagine #jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader smut #bts smut #dom!Jungkook #jungkook fluff #bts fluff #reader insert

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roguishredaxion · 3 years

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My BnHA AU List

Sorry for the length. Fics that are currently available to read have links. To those of you mentioned in this post, I wanted to make sure people knew where the ideas originally came from. (And you’re all awesome anyway!)

Can't See The Forest For The Trees - Genderbent Midoriya Izuku who became a vigilante known as the Forest in Musutafu. Has been operating for five years dealing mostly with information gathering and dispersal and some smaller situations that crop up on the streets. Todoroki Shouto is on patrol in the area and takes an interest in the unknown vigilante after she helps out with a situation where he got in over his head. AO3

A Piece of Patchwork (Improperly Placed) - AU where Izuku and Aizawa swap places in canon. Izuku fights the hero system to become the first quirkless hero, graduating alongside Present Mic. He gets called in to help in a situation where the villain has the ability to steal quirks, five years before the start of canon, providing part of the back-up team for All Might. Part 1 is the battle against All for One, part 2 is an alternate ending to the fight. Part 3 is Izuku learning to use One for All, which was forcefully given to him by All Might at the end of the battle. Part 4 is the other half of the role swap, where Aizawa grows up alongside Bakugou and is trying to get into UA. AO3

The Fallacy of Greatness (AKA Tenth, in my files) - AU where the whole first year class of UA in canon is born 4 years later than in canon. All Might encounters a 10 year old Izuku who asks if he can be a hero. Even after rescuing Bakugou and proving his heroic spirit, All Might elects not to give One for All to a child as young as Izuku. Izuku, desperate for someone to believe in his dreams, realizes that he has to be his first believer and decides to take matters into his own hands and prepare for a future in heroism on his own. AO3

The Capture Scarf Caper - Based on an idea from @terrible-my-hero-academia-aus Izuku finds Aizawa's capture scarf discarded in an alley and takes it home. He figures out how to use it and becomes so proficient that it accidentally gets mistaken for a quirk. Deciding to capitalize on the strange bias he's come up against, he uses the capture scarf to get into Class 1-A. Unfortunately, this means his teacher is the original owner of his scarf. Suddenly his deception is a lot more desperate and precarious. Meanwhile, Aizawa is trying to figure out why his instincts are telling him to pay such close attention to this anxious kid. AO3

The Better Part of Valor - Suspected Traitor Izuku AU a la @gentrychild. After Aizawa discovers one of Izuku's hero analysis notebooks, he drags Izuku to an interrogation room trying to get him to confess to being the traitor in UA. Izuku comes to realize that several of his classmates were also made aware of this theory and have been feeding information on his movements to their teacher for a while. Betrayed, he starts to pull away from class, falling back into some of the same habits from middle school to go unnoticed and fall off of people's awareness. At some point, his classmates realize that he's no longer staying in the dorms, they only ever see him in class, and All Might is the only person he will voluntarily interact with.

Civil Disobedience - All Might doesn't track Izuku down after the slime incident, but Bakugou's parting words cut far deeper after the day he's had. Realizing that everyone talks about how great of a hero Bakugou will be, Izuku comes to the conclusion that he wants to be the exact opposite of what Bakugou is. He elects to become a villain who goes after and exposes corrupt heroes. Adopting the username Wasureta for his villain work, he collects information on heroes who aren't performing their job as they should and releases it to the court of public opinion, taking away the support that has kept them from being exposed before this. As he digs deeper into the cesspool of rotten heroes, he manages to collect enough information to rake Endeavor over the coals and ends up with an interesting new follower. Dabi, meanwhile, is shocked by the ruthless but polite teenager he found when he tried to find Wasureta and he's not sure if he's impressed by what the kid has accomplished on his own, or horrified by the scope of what he controls.

Hunting Prometheus - There is another quirkless student attending Aldera Middle School, but she wasn't born that way unlike Izuku. When she was seven, her quirk was stolen from her by a man with a smooth voice and a forgettable face and she's been existing in a state of carefully cultivated rage since that day. Before, she never even considered becoming a hero. Now her only goal is to become a hero so she can find that man and punch him in the face. (OC fic, obviously)

Lost Stars in an Indifferent Universe - Leverage AU, five parts, origin for each member of the team. Izuku is told to be realistic and he tries to be following his disastrous encounter with All Might. But realistic means that he has already exceeded the life expectancy of quirkless individuals, acknowledging the fact that no amount of studying or work will let him join a remotely helpful career, and he is stuck living with his mother while he wastes away as a janitor at a nearby middle school following the completion of his high school education. When he returns to a tall building he hadn't managed to convince himself to jump off of yet, he finds that the abandoned space has been taken over by a black market of sorts and gets folded into a world of grey morals and an underground economy based on merit instead of quirk. When he becomes aware of an illegal quirk experimentation operation and tries to blow the whistle, several attempts are made on his life in order to shut him up. Instead of disappearing, he gets angry and decides to collect a team to strike back and prove the shady shit the lab is up to. (Izuku=Mastermind, Shinsou=Grifter, Hatsume=Hacker, Shoji=Hitter, Eri=Thief)

Love and Other Things Not Bound By the Laws of Time - Mr. Peabody and Sherman AU. Nezu adopts a young Midoriya Izuku whose mother died shortly after he was diagnosed as quirkless. Determined to show his new son that one's quirk or lack thereof means nothing in the grand scheme of things, UA's principal develops the WABAC machine to travel through time and prove just how capable people were before quirks manifested. He indulges Izuku's passion and curiosity, encouraging him to look into as much or as little as he wants on any subject. It becomes clear that, while not supernaturally intelligent, Izuku is a genius whose ability to make connections and strategize is by far his greatest asset, especially as he still holds onto the goal of becoming a hero.

The Quiet Revolution (collab w/ my sister) - The Todoroki siblings need therapy. Instead of getting that therapy, they decide to meet up for dinner every Saturday night, begin a tradition where they burn their father in effigy each week, accidentally start a highly successful Minecraft YouTube channel, and generally cause the downfall of the existing hero system through the power of networking.

You Can Tell What I Am By The Lines In My Skin - BnHA/Naruto AU. Naruto dies in his own universe and is reborn into the My Hero Academia Universe as Midoriya Izuku. He remembers who he was, but his chakra, which followed him into this life, is always out of reach. He trains as best he can to keep up his regular ninja skills but can't break through the barrier separating him from his chakra. He still meets and trains under All Might. When he receives One for All, however, the sensation that fills him is entirely familiar. It breaks through the barrier as though it isn't even there, and settles inside like it's always been there. Honestly, he had been missing the angry furball anyway, so he was glad Kurama managed to follow him to this world. With access to his chakra again, the world is about to discover just how effective one shinobi can be in a world of heroes.

War Games - (Inspired by RogueDruid's Hero Class Civil Warfare and others similarly inspired by it.) A year-wide hero class exercise is announced. Bakugou is announced as the Hero leader while the villain leader's identity is kept secret. Izuku knows it's him before the letter appears in his room. The students are allowed to pick whichever side they want, but most choose the hero side, which has won the exercise every time it has been run. This year is no different. Todoroki realizes that Izuku is the villain leader and signs up with him. Izuku goes and recruits Momo and Monoma to his side. Then, after consulting the rules, he folds in Shinsou and Hatsume as well. Monoma plays decoy villain leader and attempts to collect a few more people, but they've already signed up for the hero side. Izuku, without explicitly saying that he's signed up with the hero team, gets folded into the hero strategy sessions since no one expected him to make a different choice. He proceeds to get "taken out" in the first villain assault, and most people don't realize what's happening until it's far too late.

Life's A Game (And I'm Player One) - AU in which Izuku realizes that he does have a quirk but can't tell anyone about it because a) he can't prove it and b) it could be dangerous if he talks about what he can see. His quirk, which he privately calls Stat Check, freezes time just for him in order to open up what looks like a video game character bio that explains a person's quirk, as well as containing vital statistics. It only works in person or on unaltered photographs with a person's face or a distinctive enough feature to identify them. As he gets older, more tabs are added to the bio, and he starts to notice signs above certain people's heads telling him what level he needs to be to fight them (he stops seeing these after receiving OfA, until he sees AfO in Kamino Ward). In pictures, only the first tab is available unless he took the picture while time was frozen, in which case all the tabs are accessible. Because of this, he has accordion folders filled with photographs of people instead of analysis notebooks.

Of Unpainted Fences and Raw Ingredients - Smart Izuku AU. He has been writing essays about hero society, morality, and several other issues since before UA, but he doesn't realize how much people are paying attention to them until the essays start becoming required reading for certain classes. Meanwhile, the teachers are desperate to get in contact with him, not expecting that the essayist they have been gushing over is sitting near the back of the class, trying not to blush.

In A Mirror Darkly - Aizawa is out on patrol with Shinsou and Midoriya when they are attacked and the boys are apparently obliterated by an enemy quirk. The rest of the class attempts to help Aizawa, but he blames himself for their deaths. It doesn't help that he keeps seeing flashes of them in the mirror out of the corner of his eye and could swear he heard one or both of their voices in the middle of the night. Meanwhile, Shinsou and Midoriya are stuck out of sync with the rest of the universe and can't communicate with anyone except Aizawa, and only through mirrors. Izuku figured out that they have maybe two weeks before they waste away since they can't interact with anything being stuck in this in-between space. The only way they can get out is for Aizawa, who was there when they de-synced, to touch them and bring them back in sync with the rest of the world.

Guerilla Tactics - Vigilante Class 1-A AU. After the slime villain debacle, Izuku runs away from Bakugou and the heroes. He literally runs into Todoroki Shouto and they commiserate about how the heroes have failed them. Realizing a bit late exactly who Shouto's father is and why he's trying to run away, Izuku offers to come up with a plan to help him get away cleanly. (This is sort of the worst timeline, where most of the good teachers aren't employed at UA, Nezu is not the principal, and the HPSC is in charge of almost everything.) The plan they come up with involves Shouto failing the recommended exam, then disappearing the day results arrive home. Izuku, meanwhile, attends the regular exam and sees how the whole points system benefits those with flashier quirks and easily aimed egos. He gets to talking with a lot of hero hopefuls and sort of steals them out from under UA when their applications are rejected. They move into an abandoned sector of outer Tokyo and start working as vigilantes. Dadzawa makes an appearance, as if summoned by the horde of teenagers with no form of parental guidance to speak of.

No Rest for the Wicked (Or The Damned) - Person Of Interest AU. Instead of apologizing to Izuku when he asked if he could still be a hero without a quirk, Inko points out the other ways he can be a hero, by building the things they would need to fight crime. Figuring that one of the main problems with villains is that no one knows when they're going to attack, Izuku creates an intelligent program that can assess a high volume of data and extrapolate when and where a villain attack will take place, and who the villain will be. When his mom is killed and he's badly injured in an attack his AI predicted, Izuku realizes that no one is taking his information seriously because he's quirkless. He decides to take matters into his own hands and reaches out to an unlikely helper. Dabi doesn't know why this kid decided he was the best option to stop a lot of the more violent crime he somehow knows is going to happen, but he promised and then delivered Endeavor's fall from grace, so he's willing to see where this goes.

Binary Stars - Slight Megamind AU. Before their respective planets were destroyed, Izuku and Bakugou were placed in small space pods and sent towards Earth. Bakugou's people were warriors who looked enough like humans that they intermarried (unbeknownst to humans), thus bringing about the first quirks. Izuku's people, however, are survivors. Their planet was populated by predators so their greatest asset was their ability to camouflage themselves. As Bakugou's people often hunted Izuku's people, they gained a sort of sixth sense for them, which is why Izuku's very presence pisses Bakugou off. (All for One is from Bakugou's planet. He was exiled for stealing power. The last power he stole was what he gave his brother, and the brother always resented him for getting them both sent away.) Izuku still receives OfA, and is the first of his species to have a quirk/power like that.

The Wings of Icarus - Spy AU. Todoroki Shouto works for Yuuei, an espionage agency run by his father. He's been training practically since birth, no thanks to his father, and is second in the spy business only to a person known as Icarus. When something goes wrong on a mission, he is rescued by a short man with freckles and deep green eyes shortly before he passes out. He is found at one of the entrances to Yuuei with a note from Icarus to the tune of "I think you lost this", making Shouto the only person to have actually seen Icarus. Meanwhile, Nezu is running a small but successful info brokerage out of a bakery with three kids he picked up off the streets years before: Izuku, Shinsou, and Hatsume. Codenames: Icarus, Psyche, and Daedalus, respectively. Nezu is known as Zeus.

Dark is the Night (Momo is Batman: version 1) - Based on an idea from @terrible-my-hero-academia-aus . Momo loses her parents in a villain attack when she's eight. She throws herself into her studies in earnest, determined to be a hero. In the meantime, however, she has a hard time ignoring all of the hardship she sees on the streets, all of the crimes that go unanswered. However, to duck the vigilantism laws and disguise her identity, she wears a suit that covers every part of her body (think Cassandra Cain as Batgirl) because no one would assume that someone with a creation quirk that needed exposed skin to function was under it. She produces everything she needs at home. Aizawa notices that there's someone off about Yaomomo, something fake. It isn't until he runs into her on patrol that he figures something out.

Used to the Darkness (Momo is Batman: version 2) - Based on an idea from @terrible-my-hero-academia-aus . Bruce Wayne was reincarnated as Yaoyorozu Momo. She remembers everything about her previous life, but she has adapt all of the fighting training she knows to her new female body. The intelligence and detective skills are useful in this new world, especially since a good portion of logic and deduction has fallen by the wayside for the majority of those in law enforcement. The quirk is something else to get used to, but it's highly effective at producing materials of various things needed for vigilantism. She's interested to see how far she can take the limits of the superpower this universe had given her. At the very least, she's more than capable of recreating the gear she had. Even though her parents haven't died in this universe, she still ends up going out at night and trying to help in whatever way she can. Upon meeting and befriending Todoroki Shouto, she realizes the good she can be in this universe. She attacked the corruption in Gotham wherever she could. Why shouldn't she be able to do the same here? The night is still dark and the people who hide in it are the same cowards they've always been. It's about time someone reminded them that the dark hides more than just their actions.

A Rose By Any Other Name (AKA the Haruhi AU) - Based on a prompt found on @rayshippouuchiha‘s blog. Midoriya Izumi is having trouble staying in uniform after starting middle school because her bullies have decided to step up the abuse a little bit and keep burning them. She had three sets of uniforms, and all three are burned by the third day of classes. What's more, the nurse doesn't have any spare girls uniforms and her teacher insists that she needs to be in uniform and not in her gym outfit. Since the nurse does have a boys uniform that would fit her, Izumi elects to follow her teacher's instructions and shows up in a boys uniform as she doesn't care as much about the clothes she's wearing as she does about following what her teacher said. Cue a gender identity crisis. AO3

Nothing But The Truth - Izuku is hit by a truth quirk while out on patrol and Aizawa is made to babysit him until it wears off. Although he tries to avoid more sensitive lines of questioning, Aizawa asks about his analysis notebooks and ends up accidentally learning about One For All, Izuku's life prior to receiving it, and what his Problem Child's true goals regarding heroism are. (Might become a series with this as a oneshot, or a multi-chapter story as originally planned.)

Panacea - Izuku has a hidden quirk his whole life, one that people didn't even consider could be a quirk. He has a super-powered immune system, and it can and will treat damaging quirks as an infection to fight. His burns from Bakugou's quirk heal faster and faster, emitter quirks used on him start to be less effective after the first couple of times until they don't work at all. He has the ultimate cure in his blood and no way to share it. And then he receives One For All, a powerful stockpiling quirk with a secondary aspect that makes it capable of passing from person to person regardless of heritage. Izuku doesn't realize it, but his invisible quirk got a free pass to start changing the world, one touch at a time. (Possible Dad For One) (Just had the stupid thought that Izuku's quirk is basically Cure For All)

Prototype - While getting scolded after the Slime Villain incident, an underground hero known as Prototype shows up and forces the other pros on the scene to back off. They then walk Izuku home (accidentally forcing him to miss All Might's offer). During the walk, Izuku confesses that he is giving up on his dream of being a hero since everyone says it's impossible. Prototype points out that Izuku was the only one on the scene who was thinking about a solution from more than one angle, which is a useful skill for an underground hero to have. They offer to take him on as their apprentice in the underground, promising that if he still wants to be a hero, an apprenticeship would be more flexible and faster than trying to become a hero through one of the heroics schools. They advise Izuku to think about it and discuss it with his mom, since he would probably be spending a lot of time training out of the house and not every parent is willing to let their child basically move in with someone they barely know. Izuku, after talking things over with his mom, decides to go for it, embarking on a totally different journey to being a hero than he ever expected.

Yesterday's Sunshine (A Storm On The Rise) - Based on @hey-hamlet's End of An Era AU in which the mind of a 19 year old Izuku fighting a losing battle against Paranormal Liberation Front and the League of Villains is sent back to his 14 year old body, a mere month after he started training with All Might. He is traumatized and trying to hide the fact that he is shocked to see the people he knows died walking around again, untouched and whole. He's determined to make everything better this time, to keep his loved ones from dying or betraying him in the worst ways. He also needs to try and stay ahead of the people around him, who are trying to figure out why this child who shouldn't have encountered many villains in his life, is so terrifyingly good at putting them down hard. (I'm considering adding an aspect of DFO.)

Searching for Tododeku - Or Five Times Shouto Tricks Midoriya Into A Date and One Time Midoriya Asks Him Instead. Featuring semi oblivious Izuku, Shouto stealth-competing for the title of supreme memelord with Kaminari, and a cameo of Endeavor's crippling addiction to tabloid magazines.

Planar Shift - An All For One-Izuku body swap just weeks prior to a fight that would have left AFO and All Might both greviously injured. Izuku is quick to realize that the person he ended up in doesn't seem to be a nice person (and he tries not to think about what it would mean if the person is in his body around Kacchan) and has a lot more quirks than a person should have. His childhood doctor is there, as is a strange boy with delicate skin, a disintegration quirk, and a love of video games but little else. Then there's the purple mist person who reads as both alive and dead to one of Izuku's new quirks. When he figures out that All Might is trying to track this villain down (and will probably think it's a trick if Izuku tries to explain his situation), he decides that he should get himself, the kid, and the not-dead-but-not-alive person out of there. He doesn't know how long he's going to be in this body, but he wants to be the hero those two need, even if he's technically a villain.

Environmental Damage - Hitman Izuku AU. When Izuku's mother is killed when he's young, he manages to track down the killer but the police won't take him seriously because he's quirkless. Neither will any of the heroes he approached with it. So instead he goes back to the criminal underground where he found most of his information and talks to an assassin who had a soft spot for him. Izuku agreed to become the man's apprentice so he can take out the person who killed his mother himself. After that, he starts selling his services to people who can't get out of bad situations, offering a much reduced rate compared to other contract killers. Then a kid his age with red and white hair approaches him about killing the Number Two hero.

Summertime and Seaglass - Aizawa keeps running into this mute homeless kid on his patrols. He's not sure what to make of him, except that he needs someone to care for him, especially as the nights are getting colder. Treating the kid a bit like an abused and feral cat, he starts taking food with him to offer the kid when they meet up. It's more or less an accident when he learns the kid's name is Midoriya Izuku, a child thought to be dead and burned three years before when he and his mother were caught in a villain attack that was ended violently by Endeavor. Aizawa wants to give Midoriya and all of the other victims of Endeavor's carelessness the justice they deserve, and maybe by the time he's done the kid will let him bring him in from the cold.

The Importance of Being Batman - (Based on an idea from @terrible-my-hero-academia-aus .) Izuku spends a lot of time on forums for quirkless people, getting support and advice from other people like him who don't have a quirk. He gets the attention of an old Admin, Toshinori, and they talk about heroics, pre-quirk comic books, and the importance of representation and symbols in modern media and culture. After failing to get into heroics in the entrance exam, Izuku shifts his focus slightly. Batman didn't have any special powers in the comics, but he was one of the best heroes in his universe. Izuku decides that if he can build the skills, knowledge and (most importantly) money to become his own version of Batman, that would be almost like being a hero. It's time that society learns that 'useless' is a matter of choice, not birth, and even someone who doesn't have a quirk can do incredible things.

#MHA AUs #BnHA AUs #My AUs #BnHA AU list #MHA AU list #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #fanfiction #my fanfic ideas

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spc4eva · 3 years

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Star-Burned: Chapter Two

Ngl, reader is well endowed in the breast department. hate me. trust me, reader is gonna complain about it later about her back hurting.

Paz fluff is probably my favorite thing to write. This fic is undoing me. Goddammit.

Word Count: 8,626

Rating: M (+18) oral sex m!receiving

Masterlist

Cross Posted on AO3

Paz barely understood what was happening when he'd crash landed, falling out of hyperspace and being thrown around the hull of his ship like a tin can before crash landing. It was miraculous he'd survived with just broken ribs. An even bigger miracle that he'd been found.

You were a pretty young lady with more hair than should be humanly possible, a ray of sunshine, and so hilariously goofy that Paz was smiling beneath his helmet half the time as you trotted in with meals for him, eying him beneath your mop of hair --- which you often tried to manage in a ponytail, though ringlets would fall free and cascade into your face smattered with a constellation of freckles. That's why he named you Tranyc -- Mando'a for sunny or quite literally translating to 'star-burned', because you were the ray of sunshine on his day while he was stuck in bed healing. You were good company, easy to talk to, never berated him despite how much of a burden he was. Took him less than a day to realize you were on your own, running the entire moisture farm on nothing but cultivated crops and several cups of caf a day. And despite how often you fumble over words, you were smart.

There wasn't much to do and the highlights of Paz's day consisted of you spending time with him. You had piled all your holobooks near him, given him the remote for the television, and anything else you thought he might like while you wandered off to go make repairs and tend to your livelihood. You must've been tired. The farm was a fulltime job on its own and now you had to look after him. Paz felt guilty, because you'd not complained once, not asked him for credits or when he might be leaving. You were cautiously curious, but not impolite with your questions. Not many people would have chanced bringing a Mandalorian into their home, let alone a young woman on her own. That was what was different about you and maybe it had to do with Paz's sheer luck of landing on a relatively backwater planet where people weren't in fear of their lives constantly.

Paz had lucked out.

He hated feeling weak, being unable to walk on his own, but you were blissfully patient and kind, cracking jokes and making silly faces, telling him how he'd be good as new to start back up on hunting -- or whatever it was that Mandalorians did. And while he was eager to not have his ribs feel as if they'd been kicked in by a bantha, he was also ruing the countdown for when he'd have to return to his ship and leave you behind. Despite it being a few scant weeks, Paz liked you. Not just because you were pretty, but he found your demeanor relaxing. So when he managed to get to his feet to go to the kitchen and he saw your hair sticking out on the couch, he trotted over without an afterthought to check on you.

He hadn't been expecting to see your coveralls crumpled on the floor and your beet red facing eying him in horror. Originally, he'd believed you were hurt from when he'd fallen on you. After all, you were a small thing. Despite being lean from working the farm you were dwarfed by him. And when the blanket had fallen over... Paz's mind began turning, the gears clicking into place, the disbelief that the pretty ray of sunshine had been caught in the midst of masturbating. To the thought of him.

Until that point you'd been hospitable and courteous, it was the last thing he expected and dangling deliciously in front of him like a forbidden fruit. He more than owed you at this point. He owed you his life and getting you off wasn't really repayment. In fact, Paz had enjoyed it, thinking the situation was more self indulgent than selfless. You became putty in his hands, passing out from a mixture of exhaustion and satisfaction. That brought a smile to his face -- well, there had already been a smile -- but it was bigger now.

He didn't mind cleaning you up and putting you into some more comfortable clothing, tucking you into the large bed that had obviously been yours. He had found discarded hair elastics under the pillows and a few socks that had been lost to the depths of the sheets. You had taken care of him, he could manage picking up your tiny form and putting you to bed. You didn't come around until morning when Paz was up in the fresher, still testing his weight on his aching chest.

"You can walk now," you popped your head through the open door, stating the obvious, but it made him smile that you weren't half as doleful as he'd thought you'd be after yesterday. "Um... I can make breakfast real quick and then there's something I wanna show you if you're up to it."

"If I'm up to it?" Paz rumbled, he still couldn't wear his armor, the weight would be too much of a burden. "How are you feeling?"

Your face brightened with blush immediately, matching the hue of your flaming locks at the sheer mention. "G-good, th-thank you."

The moment he'd put you to bed, he'd staggered off to the fresher to relieve himself and the throbbing erection he had from going through his ministrations. Not that you needed to know that he had been wanting more. Yesterday hadn't been about him. The last few weeks you had doted your attention on him.

"Good."

You darted away, back in your usual attire which consisted of mechanic coveralls, boots, and a tightfitting short sleeve shirt in russet. Your arms were bared from the bicep down and you wore a pair of beat up leather gloves, hair cinched at the base of your neck with a straining scrunchie that fought desperately to contain all the curls which rebelled at being held against the back of your slightly too large overalls.

Truthfully, you were very nervous over what had happened yesterday and even more distressed that you had slept away the entire freaking day. The hardworking farmer in you was berating you with every step, unbelievable, you slept the entire day until breakfast. Now, when drifters had stayed and you had slept with them, you had woken up and prepared breakfast without an afterthought. There was no guilt, no twisting of nerves in your tummy, because you knew that what had happened was a simple arrangement of two lonely people breaking up the cobwebs. What happened with the Mandalorian should have felt the same, but it didn't. Only one man had stayed a few days and engaged in multiple trysts and by the end, he'd been asking you to leave behind the moisture farm to go adventuring with him. While that was a very... juicy prospect, you couldn't think about leaving behind the canyons you'd known your entire life. You loved it here, even if it was solitude and silence.

From the views up on the plateau where your farm was located, a bird's eye view of the spanning clay walls, billowing in waves of amber, brown, and orange. Your favorite days were the overcast ones where the clouds would sweep low and fringe the mountaintops with mist. That was during the wet season when the lowest parts of the canyons would fill with turquoise water from the rain. The only freestanding water you'd ever gotten the luxury of seeing and it was still a trip on your speeder bike since you lived pretty high up on the plateaus. Wasn't that time of year though, it was still the dry season and so you had to keep regular maintenance on the farm to suck every bit of moisture up.

You kept mostly grains on the farm, but had a few animals to include tip-yips which produced eggs. Otherwise, any greenery you had was produced in your greenhouse, utilizing misty puffs of water to keep it nice and humid inside. Without it, you certainly wouldn't have been getting enough nutrients to live out this remote. You would stock up on seed every six months and grow leafy greens, root vegetables, had a few berry bushes, and rhubarbs. They were genetically modified to have additional benefits, keeping you going and healthy. You loved checking in on them, standing in your little bubble of green, imagining other planets that looked just like it but instead of being in a little capsule -- the entire planet was green. That was hard to fathom, giving the landscape you'd grown up on, but so were oceans and you knew they existed.

Jumbles followed you out to the coop, drooling all over the dirt as you scolded him for getting too close. His head drooped and he stayed behind while you picked out some fresh eggs and threw fodder out for the tip-yips. You knew if you didn't keep the birds carefully locked up, Jumbles would gobble them all up. "Calm down. I'll give you some eggs you beast," you chided as you stopped in the green house to pick a few vegetables and fruit before going back inside. You'd never wanted more aside from companionship and to not be alone. You loved your farm so much and all the work you had put into it. You loved this dry, arid planet and the raw beauty you got to witness. But you weren't perfectly content.

You were lonely.

Paz was waiting in the kitchen at the table, which was funny, considering he couldn't actually eat with you. Humming to yourself, you put a pot of caf on and then frowned at 6PO, who wandered around aimlessly. "6PO please make yourself useful. Go sweep out the greenhouse if you can't decide on what to do," you sigh, the droid looking as confused as ever, before creaking out the front door.

"Where did you get that droid?" Paz asked curiously as you set a skillet on the stove and began heating it up.

"Found it," you shrug. "Wasn't in one piece, so I scavenged parts and put it all back together again. Some of the neural harnessing was missing, so the droid will never be complete unless I replace it entirely."

"You mean you reprogrammed it?" he actually sounded sort of impressed.

You rolled your shoulders again. "Yeah, suppose so. Wasn't too hard. Lots of trial and error... and caf." And time. During the wet season you had more time on your hands and so typically that's when you'd spend it on projects.

"How'd you learn how to do that? Droids are complicated pieces of tech."

"My dad taught me. He was an engineer, could run this whole place without even trying. Always knew how to fix everything," you gave a sad chuckle at the thought of your parents. You missed them so much. Maybe if they hadn't passed you wouldn't be half as lonely and feeling as if there was something missing in your life. "Studied on... Coruscant, I think? Before the war broke out. Round 20BBY he came out here with my mom and I because they wanted to avoid the fighting."

"And he taught you everything he knew," Paz assumed.

"Oh, well, I mean, probably not everything. He probably would have found a way to fix 6PO completely."

"Do you mind if I ask what happened?"

The corner of your mouth quirked involuntarily and you stared down at the pan as you began sautéing the cut up tubulars. "We get a wet season here every standard year. The canyons are vast, mostly stone, and not porous. My mother was sick, so they had to make a visit to the city which is a 2 day trip on bike. Usually, we don't leave during the wet season. Too dangerous. But mom's condition wasn't improving and so my father decided the risk was worth it.

"In order to get to the city, you have to go through the canyons. This time of year, no big deal, but during the wet season? Can start raining without warning and when it does, the crevasses act as funnels, diverting water to the lowest point, which... you're catching my drift, right?" You glance up, not particularly fond of explaining how nature worked around here, especially when it had taken your parents from you.

"Flash floods?"

"Mm," you began cracking the eggs. "Can't outrun a flash flood. Not on a speeder bike. They drowned. So-" you drew in a sharp breath. You had rationalized this several times over. Never really talked about it, but it didn't make you cry anymore. This planet had been good to you. Better than most people could hope for when they settled on a farm. You knew that you were lucky because of that and you couldn't resent the planet even if it took your parents from you. "The Jawas found them a little while after that. They know us, we trade with them -- I still do -- and they brought my parents back for me. Despite what people say about them, they didn't ask me for payment."

"I'm sorry... was that six years ago?"

"Mhm," you confirmed, wiping your hands off and picking up a few eggs, cracking them over your massiff's eagerly waiting mouth. "Not your fault. Might be safe from raiders and looters, but it's a harsh unforgiving landscape. Sometimes you get too comfortable and forget about that. My dad knew the risks when he took my mother. They lived a good life, just wish they didn't have to go that way." You wish you hadn't been left alone.

"Where's the closest neighbor aside from the Jawas?"

"Hundreds of miles," now you were plating the food and grabbing mugs for the caf. "The canyons are the best place to set up moisture farms. The deserts soak up all the water from the wet seasons, but due to the stone around here, it's a lot easier for moisture to be trapped in the vaporators. However, they're remote and a lot of the plateaus are too dangerous to set up on because the foundation of stone is likely to crumble. Only about three farms in all of the canyons and this is one of them. We're the highest producers of water on the planet, especially during the wet season. 'Bout the only time I see starships since the city will come and pick it up."

You slapped Jumbles on the nose as he leaned over the counter toward one of the freshly assembled breakfasts, causing him to whine. "Oh shut it you baby," you hadn't even hit him that hard, just a little boop on the nose and he was pretending you'd wailed into him. "Drama queen."

You brought Paz's food over for him and went to grab your own. "I can go outside. A few things I can start on before we head out."

"Sit down and eat first," he invited, which confused you, because how were the both of you going to eat with the whole helmet situation. "If you sit at the counter with your back to me, it'll be fine."

Oh, well that went against what he said about only removing his helmet when he was alone. But... that also meant he trusted you. How many opportunities did you have to remove his helmet? The first day you probably could have if you weren't terrified of being shot. Until you'd gotten to know Paz better, he had been the big scary Mandalorian and not the patient and easygoing one you knew now. "Are you certain? I mean, it's not a big deal. I eat on the go all the time," you object kindly, not wishing for him to feel obligated to have you in your own kitchen.

"Sit," he insisted.

"Well, I mean-" you grabbed a chair, mostly talking to yourself when you muttered those words and pulled it up to the counter. Jumbles was drooling on your leg, looking at you as if you hung the stars, which admittedly -- was quite cute except for the fact that you knew he just wanted your leftovers.

"Where'd you get a massiff?" There was a click and a hiss, the helmet disengaging and being set on the table. You tried not to think about how easy it would be to turn around and finally get a look at him, focusing on your cup of caf instead.

"Kind of just... found him," you reveal, thinking about the day you'd stood toe to toe with the beast, your arms full of scrap metal, wondering if you were going to have to use the bacta shot after getting munched on by the creature. "Thought he was gonna try and eat me."

"It's wild?" Paz's voice was different, unmodulated. There was still the same warmth you were used to, but the lack of the radio static and translation from human to droid made your skin hot, little lances of static playing down your spine as the deep bass in its full glory.

"Uuuuh," you almost forget that you're eating, your egg falling off the fork and onto your lap. Jumbles gobbles it up before you even think about grabbing it. "Jee-uh-yeah. Started feeding him scraps, probably shouldn't have done that, and then he kinda just started listening to me. I read that on Tatooine Tusken Raiders keep them as hounds, so I thought that maybe they're just partial to bonding with sentient beings."

Honestly, you'd always been good with animals. An uncanny, unnatural, totally unexplainable ability you'd possessed since you were a kid and ran into a wild dewback and nearly pissed yourself. Instead of swallowing you whole, the dewback had palmed your hand and then trotted off. The canyons were host to a plethora of fauna, many of which were quite dangerous. Having Jumbles had actually saved your skin more often than not, as the canine was keen on keeping his source of food around.

"When they're raised from pups they are," Paz informed you.

"Oooh. Well, I found Jumbles when he was an adult," you gave the dope a fond pat on the head. He leaned into your gloved grasp and harrumphed contentedly. "Maybe he was already trained and got lost." Yeah, that sounded more logical than your weird animal whispering abilities. "He's been good. If not for him, I don't think I would have found you. He's the one who led me over to your starship." And that's when you realized something. "H-hey, Jumbles is living and your helmet-"

"I'm not worried about a massiff seeing me," Paz chuckled. "I'm not going to shoot your dog."

"I-I didn't say you were," you stammer, heart fluttering a little bit as you gripped one of the massiff's spines to comfort yourself. He could very easily shoot your dog. Did he want to shoot your dog? You didn’t think so, but you weren’t keen on losing him. "Just you said no living thing and then you'd only take your helmet off alone..."

"No living sentient thing," he corrected, his silverware clattering before the helmet clicked back into place. A tiny wave of disappointment washed off you, almost as if you were expecting to get a little more time with his raw unfiltered voice. "Thank you for breakfast. Good as always."

You blushed slightly at the compliment. It was just simple food, hearty enough to keep you going throughout the day. Standing up, you nearly whirled into the Mandalorian's chest as you went to retrieve his things for him. Catching yourself before you did, you offered an apologetic smile before frisking the plate from him and placing it in the sink for later. It was a sonic sink, you were very careful about how water was used. Only for food and growing plants.

Out by the front door you grabbed your outing belt, which had your blaster and a set of tools that you'd been using. Picking up the sack beside it, laden with a few canteens, ration bars, and holobooks you glanced back at Paz. He still didn't have his armor on, but he did adorn his belt with a vibro-blade and pistol. "C'mon," you told him, offering a small wave before striding out the front door and into the crisp, sunny morning.

Drinking in a deep breath of dry air, you gave a dizzying and pleased smile before beginning to talk. "Now, I told you that I borrowed your speeder bike to get us back up here. There was a bit of damage to it since it took a beating during the crash. Most superficial, which I managed to get the dings out of the metal and replace the exhausts which were nearly crushed. Probably needs a new paint job, but I didn't have any paint laying around," you explained, bringing him over to the bike. You'd doted a bit of time on it, because you knew bikes and it was easy for you to fix. Plus it was nicer than the one you had on the farm, so you'd been using it to go back and forth between the ranch and his starship.

Paz's helmet was craned down as he gave the bike a one over and your original pride began to fizzle out with each beat of silence. Finally, "You did a really good job. It... didn't take up too much of your time, did it?"

"Hm? Oh no, not at all. Bikes are easy, fixed plenty of bikes in much worse condition than this," you gave it a fond pat, relief flooding you that he wasn't upset that you'd fiddled with it. "But this isn't what I wanted to show you," you climbed on. "Hop on!"

Paz chuckled at your overexuberance, the way the bike looked much too big for someone of your stature. Afterall, it was his bike and so he'd gotten one that would fit his physique. Your arms were stretched upward to meet the accelerators and it was quite comical from the dopey, excited smile on your face to the way your legs barely reached the stirrups. He sat on behind you, edging up comfortably so that his thighs framed you.

"Might wanna hang on," you warned mischievously.

"What, this isn't going to be a leisurely ride?"

"The canyons look much the same when boxed in. Trust me, just hang on," you told him, feeling your cheeks roll was heated pleasure as strong arms encircled you and his pelvis pressed tighter to your backside. Oh, that felt really good, almost enough that you could lean back into his strong embrace and relax as you started this ride. But... No. You chased away the devious thoughts and tried not to fixate on the sturdy Mandalorian behind you as you revved the engine. It purred like a loth-cat, humming deliciously before you kicked off and started whistling down the hill and into the chasm that led into the canyons.

He wasn't expecting how quickly the two of you rocketed off. Arms tensing around you to prevent himself from sliding right off as gravity snared him, he let out a breathy laugh. "You weren't kidding."

"Tried to warn you," you laughed at him, shouting over the din of the motors that echoed against the canyon walls. Bowing your head ever so much, you went up another gear and stuck the wide turn. He grabbed on again, his chest now flush to your back as you dared to accelerate again.

"Where-" his voice was breathless in your ear. "Where did you learn how to drive like this?"

"Mom," you grin. "Dad was the engineer. Mom was the podracer."

"Kriff!" he cursed as you hooked the bike, reversed the thrusters, and then sputtered a sharp turn that should not have been possible except for the trick maneuver. During down time and on your long journeys to the city, you'd picked up a thing or two from your mother. Speeder bikes were easy compared to podracers, she'd tell you. Small, streamline, and capable of quite a few tricks if you understood the inertia, gravity, and capabilities of the machine you were on. Passing the signs out for the Jawas, you curved the halt, brakes slamming as the sideways turn kicked up clay sand and dust. He was still clinging to you even after you'd stopped.

"Did I frighten the big Mandalorian?" you teased, his vice grip finally relenting after taking a moment to realize that you stopped.

Paz's muscles were vibrating from the adrenaline filling him from helmet to boot from the ride. The last thing he'd been expecting from you, the little farmhand mechanic, were daring turns and hiking the bike up to full speed without as much of an ounce of panic as you tried to take a 90 degree turn. Even Paz wasn't as gutsy with a bike to attempt what you had done, but you'd stuck the turn gloriously and were laughing at him now. He hadn't realized that he could like you more, but you were filled with pleasant little surprises.

"Can you podrace too?" he countered as he let you go and you hopped down, springy, unaffected and brimming with joy. Your hair was scattered a bit, a few curls puffing loose from your scrunchie.

"Never tried, but can't be too difficult," you reply. Not arrogance or mock confidence, just... the comprehension of someone who knew a lot about machines and how they worked. "Now, come take a look. Gotta talk to you about somethings-" you padded away, leaving Paz to dismount and trail after you.

The ship still had a hole in the hull, landing gear squashed, but the supply crates had been moved back inside. For something that had crash landed, Paz was astonished how intact it appeared. The reason for his confusion was soon explained as you brought him inside and he saw that wires had been soldered off and repairs had been made.

"So, I've been heading out here when I can to make sure the thing didn't leak its fuel lines everywhere," you started, gesturing to the neatly arranged containers. "Now, I'm not a starship mechanic, but I have a few old holobooks and the manual that was laying around in here. I read up on them and was able to figure out that the fuel line was cut -- managed to fix that -- and the engines were running at 10% capacity after debris got sucked in. That's how the thing didn't explode on impact, the thrusters were still working enough that it padded your landing.

"Landing gear is shot. I don't have any lifts strong enough to hoist the ship up or the proper caliber of steel to fix the hull. I got the engines to bout 50%, so theoretically that should get you to the spaceport on the other side of the planet. Gonna be crunchy, don't know what's hiding underneath here. So you've got a few options -- try your best to get to the spaceport and the pay for repairs there, you can try to get off planet, though next planet over is Tatooine and you'd pay an arm and a leg for shoddy repairs, or we can try trading with the Jawas. They've got their sandcrawler which might have the capability of picking your ship up, but won't be cheap. Even with my connections they're gonna want something good."

Paz was flabbergasted and at a loss for words as he looked at the work you'd done on top of the farm, on top of taking care of him, and how candid you were about what solutions he had going forward. "How did you have the time to do all this?" he asked.

"Hm?" you were looking over at a few wires that needed to be routed properly. "Uh, lots and lots of caf."

No wonder you had passed out for over 16 hours yesterday. Additionally, you'd read dry holobooks on starships and for what? To help him? At this point he knew that you weren't expecting anything out of it. He'd not been to a lot of backwater planets, but he was beginning to realize that people like you were more common in these quiet remote locations, just happy to be helping. Why that nearly broke him right there, he couldn't say, but he was absolutely moved by your selfless compassion that you didn't even really acknowledge, because it was all so natural to you. A little gem in the canyons, hiding up on your plateau farming water.

"What do I owe you? Repairs like this cost a lot... you've saved me a lot of credits, Tranyc."

You were a little distracted, admittedly, your eyes finding the problems you hadn't remedied yet. "Owe me?" you repeated before finally looking back toward the visor. "You're my guest. Don't worry about it. Consider it a little bit of desert hospitality. There's still some work I need to do, haven't gotten round to it, but I figured you'd want to see your ship."

He didn't owe anything. How didn't he owe anything? Paz was shell shocked as you turned away, removing a set of pliers from your tool belt as you started working on the frayed wires that were getting on your nerves. People always wanted something, no matter how minute or simple it was and yet... You were fiddling along, pleased as a womp rat in sand you continued to chug along as if he weren't even there. And you'd learned how to do this in weeks? Taught yourself how to do it? Your parents had to have been smart and if your father studied at university on Coruscant -- you might've been modest about it, but that meant he'd imparted the same years of study into you while you grew up.

He knew how to make baseline repairs, how to weld, and keep the ship from falling apart. What you were doing -- he had no idea how to do. Truthfully, the gunship needed a lot of work before it was going to be good enough to leave the planet and you were correct -- parts were needed. Sitting on a storage crate, he placed his helmet in his palm and rubbed his aching ribs, trying to think of which path would be the best option. Going to the spaceport meant that he'd leave you behind. He also didn't know how much repairs were going to cost on this planet. Flying to Tatooine was just a bad decision all around, who knew if the ship could handle it. Then trading with Jawas... It would keep him around you for a bit longer and you knew the Jawas. He was bound to have something that they wanted aboard the Kote. He could also use a talented mechanic, but somehow doubted that you'd be willing to part with your farm.

The way you'd talked about your home, you were very proud of it and you loved the landscape. But still... all alone... he didn't like the thought of that. Even if this planet was relatively safe, what if the Jawas found your body in the canyon ravines?

He had been lost to his thoughts as you worked, the ship heating up in the midday sun. You'd flipped down the straps of your coveralls to work and that's when he noticed. A thin sheen of sweat decorated your arms, a few curls sticking to your face as you hunched over the controls for his cryo chamber. But that wasn't what attracted his attention. No, it was the swell of your breasts beneath the fitted shirt you wore, the perky mounds that were well sized for your slender form. The fabric left little to the imagination, mostly because you weren't wearing a bra. Why would you? You lived on your own and bras were awful, constricting things that made you even clammier on hot days. Plus they were stupidly expensive.

The coveralls usually kept them hidden, but with the thick panel of fabric cast down, Paz was staring. He'd been distracted by your lower half yesterday, but not his fixation was on the top. How could you look so good in just a tight fitting shirt that didn't betray any cleavage? He estimated that each would be more than a handful for him, the nipples pressing through the fabric and you didn't notice, completely unaware of the lack of decorum because you were a farmer and those sort of things probably didn't pop into your mind. Which was why he felt a tiny bit ashamed watching you, eying you from the protective mask of his helmet. Would you want him to touch you again? You had told him that you'd been getting off to him, but perhaps that was in the moment when he'd caught you.

Neither of you had broached the subject this morning, but nor were you being incredibly demure or shy. You were just being normal.

"Wanna toss me a canteen from in there?" you asked, pointing to the bag you'd dumped by the hole in the hull.

Paz tore his eyes away, glancing down, retrieving the requested item. Tossing it to you, you caught it and upcapped it, taking a few generous gulps and spilling some on yourself. He gritted his teeth as you wiped your mouth, the soft plush lips having been locked around the rim, the water seeping into your shirt. Your shirt. Dank farrik. Now he was staring again, hopelessly pressing his palms together as he tried to keep it together. Stars, he wanted more of you than just the bit of pleasure he'd brought yesterday, but it wasn't his place to take it. You'd already gone above and beyond in assisting him and so he couldn't just ask you to sleep with him, no matter how much he wanted it. That felt... wrong. Like a dirty, awful thing to request after he'd come to like you -- only utilizing you for your body in the end and not the company he'd grown fond of.

"Did you think about what you're gonna do?" you ask him, drawing his visor back up to you.

"The Jawas--" his voice was kinda hoarse, which made you tilt your head. "Might have something on here that they'd like."

A smile unfurled on your face, because secretly you'd been praying that he'd choose that option. Just stealing more time with the Mandalorian, despite the fact that he was stranded. You didn't want him to leave, but it was going to happen eventually, just like it did with everyone else who came here. Everyone left. Everyone but you and the animals. You were pretty sure you were gonna cry like a baby when the Mandalorian finally departed. "I can send 'em a transmission tonight. Probably will take them the better part of a day to get here, but they'll come."

"Thank you again," Paz insisted, but you brushed it off with a silly and overly dramatic hand wave.

"There's gotta be some kindness in this galaxy. 'Else it'd be a sad, miserable, hopeless place," you counter, springing back to your feet, dusting your gloves off animatedly. "Let's finish up in here and then head back. Got some work I have to do on the farm too."

Sonic showers weren't the best, but they were all that you knew. Aside from when the rain would billet down during the wet seasons, you didn't know what an actual water shower felt like. Either way, you needed to get the sweat and grime off of you by the end of each day, so you trotted out with your pajamas on and into the Mandalorian. You'd already contacted the Jawas and were getting ready to tuck in for the night when he caught you. "Oof, sorry... I-I didn't hurt your ribs did I?" Your eyes flitted to where his injury was immediately.

"I'm fine," he assured you, large hands butterflied against your sides where he'd caught you from doing too much damage by trolloping right into his chest. Big. His hands were big. So large that they covered your ribs entirely when gripping your sides. They lingered, the skin beneath growing hot and beginning to tingle. Then he removed them, as if he were worried about overstaying his welcome.

Your skin sighed where he released and you glanced up chewing your lip. "Um..." uncertain -- you didn't know where this was going, but why the hell not. What did you have to lose? He was stuck here until his ship was going to be fixed. "Yesterday--"

"I'm sorry, I really shouldn't have done that," Paz interrupted, launching your heart up into your throat.

"Wha-no, I liked it," you assured him, feeling courageous enough to take his hands in yours. Maker, you looked like a child, holding those large calloused palms in yours. "I... wouldn't mind more. I-i-if that's what you want, of course," you sputtered, cheeks sweltering and ears about to rocket off from the intense embarrassment you felt in suggesting such a thing. It'd been easier before. You could see the faces of your guests, gauge what they were thinking, see the lust in their eyes that you could give right back. They'd never stayed this long, never gotten to know you this well, and... you didn't want to make him uncomfortable because you felt a little horny with him around. But Maker, how was that not possible? He was an absolute unit, pure muscle, easy conversation, and had a voice that shattered your resolve like an earthquake.

"Would I want more?" he repeated slowly and your stomach sunk into the abyss, blood draining from your face. The leap of faith had been in vain and instead of swan diving into water, you'd hit stone. And then suddenly his hands were on your chest, driving the air from your in uncontrolled gasps as he squeezed. "Maker--" he cursed, vocoder breaking up as you almost melted on the spot. "So... you're so mesh'la. Had my eyes on you all day while you were working. You're such... a distraction."

He wasn't rough, despite holding onto your breasts, moving carefully over the fabric as he caressed you. In the past, your chest had been a fixation of other lovers because you were well endowed and you were accustomed to rough squeezing to the point where it was painful. It was almost as if most men just wanted to push them until they popped or just liked the pillowy sensation of squeezing and didn't care much for how it felt for you. They were bloody sensitive and you didn't appreciate them being manhandled -- except for right now, right now was good. Better than good in fact.

"Distraction? I'm the one doing all the work," you mumbled, leaning into his touch as he palmed you and rubbed circles over your breasts, the nipples stiffening beneath the fabric and dimpling it. "While you just... just sit there."

"I'm still hurt," he didn't sound very convincing, maybe that wasn't the point.

"Too hurt to be doing anything too... arduous," you pointed out, humming as he gave another gentle squeeze. "Last night did you-- I sort of just--" passed out. Say it. You passed out and left him there with an erection. That couldn't have been too pleasant. To top it off with a cherry, he'd put you to bed with clothes on.

"I took care of things, mesh'la. You left me with some... good visuals," his thumb was circling your nipple, still separated by your shirt, the careful flicking making you shudder. Your entire body was reacting, legs weak and the same radiating heat vibrating between your thighs.

"Bu-ut it couldn't have been that great. N-not like..." you fell off, head lolling slightly as his hands flipped the hem of your shirt and began cruising the plane of your tummy, scratching its way to your breast. A hot palm met skin, a low moan echoing as he grasped you firmly, but not too hard.

"Stars, you're so soft," he murmured, pushing the shirt up -- higher and higher until your breasts were revealed to the air. "Maker, look at you."

The praise made your thighs clench together. They didn't usually talk. Not as much as Paz was, which was somewhat ironic considering he had a helmet on and was a mysterious Mandalorian and yet he filled your ears up as he roamed you. No, it was all typically rushed, frenzied, and to sate both parties. Honestly, the sate part was just the rutting, having to take your own hands to your clit while your past lovers plowed into you. There was no copious foreplay aside from a little making out and breast squeezing and while they'd called you pretty, it never really felt the same as the way as Paz's voice. The way in which he was breathy, as if he couldn't believe his eyes, and that you'd been put on the planet delicately by the Maker himself. It made your heart rush, galloping forward, and it made you want him more.

"Le-let me," you found your hands, having been savoring his exploring before brushing the hem of his trousers. You had felt him, sort of, yesterday but you didn't actually know what was beneath the belt. From how tall and broad he was, you had an assumption of what was there. "Y-you're still hurt, s-so..." pitifully tinny, your voice was sliding away as you offered to give him something in exchange for what he'd done for you.

"Mesh'la... I-you have already done so much-" he protested.

"But yesterday--" you were whining now, hand coasting down more until you cupped his groin, feeling his length twitch. He was already hard. You weren't even undressed and he was already rock solid. "It'll feel better this way."

"Is... is that what you want?"

You nod, waiting for permission.

He couldn't say no. Not while your palm was between his legs and you were staring up at him with big, round, imploring eyes. In fact, he didn't think he could possibly deny you anything, removing his hands, the shirt falling back down over your spectacular chest. "I-Yes," he confirmed, drawing a shaking breath which made his ribs ache.

You undid the belt buckle, hands scrambling slightly from nerves before undoing the buttons. Coming down on your knees didn't really work, there was still too much of a height difference, forcing you to half-crouch as your fingers slipped beneath the fabric of his boxes and untucked his manhood. Now it was your turn to be wordless. You had expected it, but expecting and witnessing were two very different things. He was massive, just the sight of him making your core twitch painfully, imagining trying to accommodate him, doubting that he'd even be able to fully sheath himself in you without pushing into your tummy. If he could even get in.

Ok, so when you had offered to do this you thought he would fit in your mouth. Doubt welled in your stomach and he must have noticed as you stared down his cock, brushing a hand over your loose hair. "You don't have to-" he soothed. But the challenge spurned you on, undaunted and a little over zealous to be honest.

"You'll tell me... what you like?" you had just flattened your tongue against the weeping head of his cock, licking like a kitten, lathing him before you'd attempt to take more.

His thighs shook and he gave a terse nod.

You weren't extremely experienced in this field. Just enough that you knew now not to bite someone. But this wasn't just 'someone'. You liked Paz a lot and wanted it to feel good for him. To chase away the pain in his chest and to show how much you appreciated what he'd done for you. Guys liked blowjobs, didn't they? That's why they were requested so much, you just assumed that he'd like it all the same, and honestly you wanted to become more intimate with his cock after feeling it pressed beneath your leg.

You ran your tongue along his shaft, trailing back around before leaving saliva. Your hand smoothed the wetness over him, pumping a few times over his length to help lubricate him. Then you made your first attempt, tongue over your lips as you pushed his girth into the damp chasm of your mouth. He groaned, fingers tightening in your hair, which gave you the courage to take him deeper. The head of his cock met the resistance of the back of your throat and you gagged, eyes watering and jaw aching. "Relax, mesh'la. Relax your throat-" he managed gently through tight breaths.

Easier said than done, forgetting to breathe, your throat clenching, you were forced to pull away for a moment.

Spittle trailed down your plush lips, cheeks flushed wildly as you considered your next approach. You were a sight for sore eyes, Paz's own glued to you as you gasped for air. You'd bitten off more than you could chew, but he admired your undaunted commitment as you sank back onto him and closed your eyes, clutching onto his leg for balance. This time, you were able to take his guidance better, breathing through your nose before easing your throat. Your mouth was small, tight, and damp. With the accommodation of the back of your throat, Paz's hips bucked and a strangled moan crackled through the modulator.

"G-good. Fuck -- so good, mesh'la," he praised, beginning to move in tandem with you, fucking deeply into your throat. Your face was hot and wet, tears leaking out from your eyes at the sensation of your throat being stretched. The noises were wet and sloppy, punctuated by sharp hums as you tried to do well, to do what he wanted, to keep going -- but Maker, it hurt. Your attention was fixated completely on pleasing him, forgetting entirely about your own climbing heat, just trying not to clench your throat or forget to breathe through your nose. Then you dared it, reaching up and grabbing his balls, massaging them in your palm gently as he pushed into you. "Ahh- oh, fuck-- I'm going to cum. Do you want me to--"

You managed the smallest nod, squeezing him tighter as his thrusts rocked you, shattering almost all your resolve as you gagged. Ropes of cum splattered in the back of your throat, your lips suctioning to him as he stuttered to a halt, palm on the back of your head. His skin was like velvet on your tongue, slightly salty, but smooth and soft. Lavishing the last drops from his cock like precious water from the desert. In fact, it was more precious than water, more rare.

"Mesh'la... ohh," he keened softly, his hand spreading over your hair, petting you, brushing the curls from your face - which was wet with spilled tears, saliva, and a little cum. Releasing him from your sweet mouth, he brushed the white droplets from the corner of your lips, which you sucked off after it being offered. "W-what did I do?"

You tilted your head in confusion.

"What did I do to deserve you?"

You tried to talk, but your voice crackled in the back of your throat, so hoarse and quiet that you simply shut your mouth and blinked. Oh fuck. Had he broken your vocal chords? Panic began to seize you and you clutched his leg and offered a very broken, "UhhhmmMm."

He bent down, cupping your face, holding it between his palms as he took a good look at you. "I was a little too rough, wasn't I?"

"S'okay," fuck that hurt. Hurt to talk. Least you still had a voice.

"What do you want? Do you want me to--" His helmet was so close, almost brushing your nose as he looked at you. For a brief moment, you felt as if you were gazing into his eyes. What color were they? Brown? Green? Hazel? Maybe blue?

You shook your head and gave him a weary smile. That had literally taken everything out of you and you just wanted a cold glass of water and to curl up in bed. "Water. Sleep?..." you had to swallow again, struggling to get the words out. "W-with you?"

"Just... that?"

Oh no, had you chosen wrong? Did he really want to play with you? Honestly, you were good. Just making him finish had been enough for you. Your legs and throat ached, it had been a long day. You offered a dejected nod. No one ever really cuddled with you and you assumed that he'd be warm, comfortable, and feel like a blanket of protection. You wanted to feel that, even if only just once. Having sex wasn't as important as this to you. Sure, sex with him would probably be amazing, but you didn't want to overexert him because you were being greedy. Despite getting it infrequently, you'd never gotten a good cuddle. Not since you were a little girl and curled up in your parents' arms.

"Ok, ok, mesh'la," he agreed, smoothing your hair again before pushing his helmet to your brow. The gesture lit your cheeks up and felt... strangely intimate. Cool beskar kissing your sweating skin, chasing away the sweltering blush and just a thin layer between you and the Mandalorian. It felt like a kiss, but it wasn't. So gentle and tender that you let it linger and closed your eyes. "C'mon, it's been a long day," he muttered, gripping you beneath your elbow and guiding you to your feet. Your bed was just a few paces away and you were already dressed for it.

Who would have thought that a Mandalorian could be this... kind? From all the stories you'd heard, you had half-expected him to be a broody tin can that barely offered you the time of day. But there was a man underneath, a man who had desires, who had feelings, and who could be delicate. He wasn't all blasterfire, beskar, and war -- he was still a man.

He put you into bed, leaving the room for a moment to get a glass of water. You smiled at his return, accepting the offered water, and gulping it down. Your throat ailed and your jaw was already beginning to groan in protest. But the water helped. Putting it down on the nightstand, the Mandalorian removed his boots and climbed into bed with you, just trousers and an undershirt. Offering an open arm, his impressive bicep being revealed from beneath the short sleeve of his shirt.

You snuggled forward, heart pounding solidly in your ears as you tucked into his side. Maker, you loved this, the way his arm coiled around you, planting against the small of your back before tugging you in tightly. It wasn't as if you didn't feel safe in your home, you always did, but this was different. You trembled slightly because you'd yearned for this proximity, not just a rush of passion, but what came after and the security of him. From the strength of his muscles, to heat of his skin to yours, and the smell of him so close. This is what had been missing. The last piece to the puzzle that was home, the rut in your belly and soul curling pleasantly as you melted into him. Please never end. But you knew morning would come and one day he'd have to leave like everyone else. And you knew that day would be soul shattering. Because once again, you'd be alone.

#paz vizla x you #paz vizsla x reader #paz vizsla x you #the mandalorian fanfic #the mandalorian fanfiction #paz vizsla smut #smut with plot #smut with feelings #star-burned

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winterrose527 · 3 years

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have you done an Ella - museum curator, Robb - investor on a tour work??

Ummmm no I had not! And wow was this one cathartic to write. It came out way longer than expected because this is a subject near and dear to my heart...

Thank you for this prompt!!

***

She was so sick of this shit.

Over a year of it. Ever since the governor’s order in April 2020. Back then she’d almost believed it was just a blip, a couple of weeks. A vacation, almost.

But then the ban on gatherings. The shutdowns. Finally the masks.

Every museum in the country had shut its doors along with libraries, movie theaters, and every other place desperate parents could take their children on a rainy Saturday.

Theirs had been luckier than most. An endowment a few years prior, which had been earmarked but not mandated for an expansion had been used to keep the lights on and the staff fed - literally. Their programming had gone virtual and understandably attendance had dropped but not entirely – thanks to a few local artists that had generously donated their time for a last minute plug.

Ever since restrictions had lifted, the crowds had returned somewhat. A rainy spring and summer had helped, but they were nowhere near their ‘pre-pandemic’ levels (and with the Delta variant on the rise she wasn’t super comfortable with the term ‘post-pandemic’ to describe their current state of affairs).

She wouldn’t say that today though.

No, today everything would be rosy – not just the botanical gardens that abutted the museum and had been started in 1853 – no, 1854.

Not that she imagined the potential donor would be fact checking her but nevertheless there was no room for error. She needed to represent the museum well. Her colleagues were counting on her – not to mention the collection itself depended on her.

The board had decided at its most recent meeting if they didn’t get an influx of donations within this quarter they were going to sell off a few pieces from the collection.

There was nothing sadder to a museum than deaccessioning. The staff all loved and protected the collection, and they truly felt the impact they and it had on the community. Myrcella loved to walk through the galleries on Thursday afternoons to see the regulars who’d come to visit the paintings like old friends of theirs, stopping by to say hello to a Baroque oil here or an Impressionist watercolor there.

So if schmoozing yet another prospective donor was what it took to mean that Mr. Poole’s favorite still-life stayed put for his bi-weekly Wednesday morning visit, then she would schmooze. She would schmooze Sansa Stark like her life depended on it.

She knew Sansa Stark sort of. It was the sort of thing where pre-pandemic they had run into each other at half a dozen events every year and always had a lovely chat and discussed getting together and then never did. The North was a small world and they ran in similar circles. But they weren’t friends.

Still, she was her best bet. From the wealthiest and most philanthropic family in the North, of course she was.

And she had to deliver.

The board had all made it clear that they expected results, and it had been suggested that really Myrcella Baratheon shouldn’t have such a hard time finding donors. But all her usual suspects had come to her with their own sob stories full of please tell me you won’t shut your doors but without any promise of relief, and the people she knew down south – the sort that profited from the world being in such dire straits had no interest in a little regional museum. No matter how much she marketed it as a hidden jewel.

To them, there was little worth in a jewel hidden, and they had no interest in having their act of charity buried under the northern snows.

So Sansa Stark was it.

She smoothed her dress, chosen carefully for the occasion. Sansa was always impeccably dressed and favored ladylike, tailored dresses for daytime, just as Myrcella did. Today, which had turned out to be a gorgeous one, she’d chosen a pale blue scallop trim knit dress, her grandmother’s wristwatch her only accessory. Feminine but appropriate. More comfortable than the clingier dresses she only ever so occasionally wore when taking around a male potential benefactor.

“Good luck,” Gilly, their glum registrar said as she raised her wrist to her nose to make sure she could still smell the scented oil she’d spread there that morning.

“Thanks baby,” Myrcella sighed, “Lunch from that naughty salad place when I’m done? My treat?”

Gilly smiled at that, “My treat if you get her.”

“Oh, now the stakes are really high,” she teased and blew Gilly a kiss and walked through the halls.

She felt eyes on her as she went. It was a small, tight-knit team, and it made it all the harder every time she received a sheepish regret. If she couldn’t succeed, one of them might lose their job if the board couldn’t decide what to sell. Even if they could, depending on how long this lasted.

Game face, Baratheon.

She took a deep breath and then smiled for fifteen seconds. She let it drop, knowing that it would still be in her eyes when she walked outside and it felt a little more genuine when her heels clacked along the gorgeous marble floor.

Walking over to the security desk, the smile reappeared on her face.

“Morning Roddy,” she grinned.

“Good morning to you Miss Myrcella,” Rodrick greeted her, “You see the game last night?”

“You’ve known me for four years,” she noted, “When in all of that time have I ever seen the game?”

He chuckled, “There was that one time in 2018.”

“Oh no, I totally lied about that,” she assured him, shrugging, “I wanted you to think I was cool.” She then looked around the empty lobby, “No Miss Stark?”

He grimaced, “Not yet. Traffic is back though, folks still aren’t used to it.”

She nodded, picking at a non-existent thread on her dress and looked around. Her eyes narrowed in on something and she crossed the lobby and picked up a tiny scrap of paper, crumbling it in her hand and then walking back over and tossing it in the trash behind Roddy’s desk.

“I’ve been sitting here for two hours, didn’t see it,” he noted.

She smiled, “Well you’ve been doing less important things like making sure no one robs the place.”

He opened his mouth to say something to her but then his gaze was directed behind her, “I’m sorry, sir, we don’t open until 11 o’clock on Tuesdays.”

“I sort of have an appointment,” the man said.

She knew that voice. She’d heard it before. In a coat closet at Alys Karstark’s birthday party. At the next table over at a charity even in 2019. Deep, stubbornly Northern, as unyielding as Valyrian steel.

She felt her palms sweat and forced herself not to rub them on her dress, rubbing them together instead and then turning around with a bright smile.

“You’re not Sansa Stark,” she greeted him.

He grinned sheepishly, though she wasn’t sure this man had ever had occasion to be sheepish in his entire life, “Afraid not. Myrcella, right? We met at that thing – that um… save the…whatsits.”

She giggled, and she heard the sound echoing garishly on the marble, “I believe that evening we were saving the seals. Or the… tulips, maybe.”

His smile spread slowly across his face, a dimple marking its end like an exclamation point, “Well we did our part even if we can’t remember what it was, I’m Robb Stark.”

She liked that he introduced himself. He’d done so every time they’d met, as though he in no way expected her to remember him. Sansa had done it the first five or so. Must have been how they were raised.

On the other hand, she’d been raised to act as though someone was foolish for not knowing who she was, introducing herself had been something she’d had to learn when she moved north, like parallel parking and salting her stoop.

Her hand extended and his met it, taking hers in his larger one and shaking it firmly as he looked her in the eyes briefly and then her lips slightly longer before purposefully going back to her eyes, “Myrcella Baratheon, and I remember you, Mr. Stark.”

“Well if that were true you’d remember I prefer Robb,” he noted, releasing her hand.

She shrugged, leaning forward conspiratorially, “Old habits. Can I get you something to drink before we begin our tour?”

“No thank you, I’m fine,” he shook his head.

She nodded, “Well it’s beautiful out now, why don’t we start in the botanical gardens. There’s been a bumper crop this year, we recently had the Cerwyn wedding here, did you attend?”

He fell into step next to her and said, “No, I didn’t. I was meant to but they reduced it to just family.”

She nodded, “Right, seems to be happening quite a bit. Will you do the same for your wedding?”

He stopped walking briefly and before she could stop too he had started again, “No… uh, rather than reduce the guest list we decided not to have it at all. We called the engagement off in January.”

“I’m so sorry!” she internally stabbed herself in the throat, “I didn’t know.”

He shrugged, “The nice thing about there not being any events over the past year is that the press didn’t really get wind of it.” Then stopped abruptly, “Not that… it’s not like that makes up for the past year or anything.”

She laughed, “Don’t worry, I know what you meant. I am sorry though, about your engagement.”

“As am I,” he agreed, “But it’s for the best. We parted as friends. Had we gotten married, I’m not sure we could have done so, so I’m grateful for that, and for her.”

A gentleman.

So many men played the part. Opening doors, buying flowers. So few of them realized that manners mattered very little when they were offered without grace.

“That’s lovely,” she noted, pleased for once not to have to lie.

It was a gorgeous day, a perfect seventy-nine degrees and clear blue skies. As though they’d understood the importance of the occasion, the Phlox stood proudly in battle formation and the scent of honeysuckle surrounded them.

“Sansa wanted me to apologize for missing your meeting,” Robb noted.

“I hope nothing’s the matter?” she asked.

A grin overtook his face, “No nothing at all. She’s in labor.”

She smiled, grabbing his forearm briefly. They both looked down at her hand on it and she pulled it back as gingerly as she could.

“That’s wonderful,” she told him, “Her second, right?”

He nodded, “A girl. And I’ve convinced her out of the name Corona.”

She chuckled, “Oh come now, you could call her Corrie for short.”

“And her parents idiots for long,” he noted. Then told her, “They weren’t really going to call her Corona.”

She smiled, “And here I was about to tip off the press…”

He smirked, “Narrow miss, then.” He looked around, “So. Flowers.”

“Not just flowers,” she pointed out, “We have a community garden to the left and down that lane local beekeepers keep their hives.”

“My mistake,” he allowed with a close-lipped smile.

That smile annoyed her. It was the same one she’d heard in the voice of every southern donor she’d called when they’d offered her good luck with her little country museum.

It was the smile someone gave her when she’d already lost.

“Perhaps we should go inside,” she noted, “I can show you our contemporary wing which we’ve recently devoted to elevating female and underrepresented artists. Or perhaps that’s a bit too avant-garde for you. Would you like to see our hall of armor and weaponry? I believe we have a few pieces that your ancestors left on one battlefield or another.”

“I’m sorry,” he noted, rubbing his jaw, “I told Sansa we should just cancel this meeting but she insisted.”

“With all due respect, Mr. Stark –“

“Robb,” he corrected her.

“No, I’m addressing Mr. Stark right now,” she argued, all of the frustration and helplessness of the past few months bubbling up inside of her, “May I ask what exactly it is about this that you find amusing? Is it the painting that we’re going to have to sell so that it can end up in someone’s climate controlled storage unit and never looked at again? Or is it the leaky roof? Perhaps the pay cut we asked all senior employees to take? Or how about the summer interns who had gone through a rigorous hiring process only to be told we couldn’t take them on at all? I certainly hope it’s not the seniors who used to come here for their Saturday afternoon watercolor classes which we had to cancel because we didn’t have anything to pay the instructor even though it would have been the perfect activity for them because it is outdoors and safe. Or maybe it’s the after-school programs you find so laughable…”

“I’m not laughing,” he pointed out. “But you’ll forgive me if I take your righteousness with a grain of salt.”

“I’m not sure that I will, actually,” she argued.

“No?” he asked, “Well let’s talk about those seniors? Don’t you think that funding is better spent ensuring they have free and safe access to the vaccination that can actually save their lives? Or what about those kids? Sure, the after-school program is great, but how about providing computers to allow them to do remote learning? Now I’m sorry if you have to lose one of a thousand paintings in this place, but if money can be better spent giving people what they really need then I’m sorry – sell the damn thing.”

That was hard to argue with.

But not impossible.

“So you’ve drained your coffers?” she asked.

There was only room for one of them on the moral high ground and she’d always enjoyed the view.

His cheeks had turned blotchy in anger but they paled now, “Excuse me?”

“Are you in the red?” she asked, “Declaring bankruptcy? Let’s not go that far - Taking out loans? Leveraging assets?”

His jaw clenched, revealing a muscle in his left cheek that might have been attractive if she wasn’t about to rip his head off.

“No,” he noted, “But my family’s company and my family have given an exceptional amount this year already.”

“Well,” she pointed out, “It has been an exceptional year already.”

“Are you always this haughty with potential donors?” he asked, stepping ever so slightly closer to her.

A flash in her mind of his hand ghosting across the back of her neck as he secured her coat over her shoulders. That smell.

“Never,” she admitted, stepping ever so slightly towards him, “But you’re not a potential donor, are you? And tell me, is it really because you don’t think it’s worthwhile or because it doesn’t sound worthwhile?”

His face contorted in anger, “You think we’re giving so that people will write songs about us? We want this country back on its feet. We want to return to normal and if we can’t do that, we want to make sure to give people as comfortable an existence until it reverts on its own. Tell me, Miss Baratheon, can you actually find fault in that?”

She shook her head, “No, I can’t.” He looked surprised and she shrugged, “It’s a flawless argument. Just an incomplete one. Giving an exceptional amount right now isn’t enough. You have to give until it hurts, because you can. It is wonderful, exceptional, heroic, to be doing all that you have done so far. But what comes next? What comes after? What happens when the dust settles? When things open? When we get things under control? What happens when people are ready to return to what was before and none of it is left because it wasn’t deemed essential. Because it’s just flowers and amateur beekeepers and pretty watercolors? I understand that we are not on the top of the list and we shouldn’t be. But we should be on the list. We need to do more than survive, Robb. There are things apart from us that we need to endure. Things we need to protect.”

His mouth twitched at that.

“I’m sorry to say I don’t have time to see the armor,” he told her.

She felt the defeat trickle through her veins slowly.

She held out her hand, “Thank you for letting me rant at you.”

He shook it once again, narrowing his eyes at her, “Something tells me you’ve still got some left in the tank. I’d quite like to hear it. Have dinner with me tonight and convince me.”

It was happening to all of her girlfriends. After a year in isolation, their ability to detect a creep from a mile away had withered. She hadn’t thought that hers had too. He’d seemed like one of the good ones.

She pulled her hand away, “That’s not the way I do business, Mr. Stark.”

His eyes widened in horror, “No, that’s not what I meant. I don’t get to make these decisions.”

“You’re the CEO,” she pointed out.

“Yes I am but Sansa insisted on inserting a clause into her contract that she gets final say over any philanthropic decisions,” he sighed, “I literally am not even allowed to choose the location of a book drive.”

She couldn’t help but laugh at that, a tiny bit of hope bubbling inside of her, “So when you said you should have cancelled the meeting…”

“It’s because Sansa’s already decided that we will be giving a donation, she wanted to discuss the structure of it with you – you know whether you’d prefer a lump sum, or whether you want it in increments, if you wanted it to be public to inspire other donors or whether you wanted it to be private so that they couldn’t use it as an excuse not to give…” he waved his hand, “She’s better at the specifics and I’m sure she’ll be calling you in between contractions to fine tune them.”

She laughed, “Please tell her not to. A pledge is more than enough to take to my board, we can map out the nitty gritty whenever she or whomever will be replacing her in the interim has time.”

He nodded, “You’ll have them within the week.”

She was about to thank him but the words caught in her mouth, “So wait a second… did you just wind me up for the sake of it?”

He grinned, a chuckle present in his voice though it hadn’t yet broken, “I’d like to point out that it took very little to wind you up.”

She laughed, because he was right and admitted, “It’s been a tough year.”

He nodded, “For everyone. So, now that you know I have absolutely no control and can hold absolutely nothing over you… have dinner with me.”

“Why?” she asked.

“Because I enjoy arguing with you,” he told her, then grinned sheepishly, “And because I lied. Sansa told me that I could cancel the meeting and I insisted on coming because I wanted to see you. The bad thing about this year is that there were no events where I could have a chance of bumping into you…”

“Oh that’s the bad thing about this year?” she asked.

“Well,” he grinned, then did a scarily good impression of her, “Maybe it shouldn’t be at the top of the list, but it should be on the list.”

#fanfiction #modern au #robbcella #fluff #prompt

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thebittyrecoveryjournals · 3 years

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I have a few bitties in my home and they're my family, but I recently took in a new one (a Sansy) after a lady at the local post office decided she no longer wanted him. Even though I always make sure he knows he's loved like the others, he has serious separation anxiety and I can barely have a bath without him having a panic attack if I take too long. I love the little guy, and my other three try their best to keep him calm, but it hurts me to see him like this. What can I do to help him?

Hm, he’s a Sansy? A lot of anxiety of any kind is unusual for that type; they’re usually very chill and unbothered.

So, you said this is pretty recent, right? A few weeks, a couple months? It’s possible this is a temporary thing, but separation anxiety in adults can point to an anxiety disorder.

If this goes on for more than six months, I’d suggest making an appointment with a psychologist to see if that might be a possibility. Anxiety disorders going untreated will only result in more and more anxiety, so, if he doesn’t seem to be doing better after the six-month mark, it might be something deeper.

(Obviously I’m always here to make appointments with, but I know there are other psychologists in the area who aren’t Bitty-specific! So if you do need to make an appointment, you can schedule one with me or I can give you a reference to someone else.)

However, separation anxiety in adopted Bitties specifically might be a temporary issue because of new surroundings. Who knows how long his old owner had him? He’s probably used to his old home and is clinging to you because his surroundings now are unfamiliar.

So, for temporary things to try until he feels more comfortable in his new home, I do have a few suggestions!

Sit him down and gently talk to him about the anxiety. Don’t push, but ask if there’s anything in particular that he’s anxious about. (Common scenarios that people with separation anxiety think of include being afraid that he might get hurt, that you might get hurt, etc. anytime you’re away from each other.) Identifying those things might help him understand why he’s getting anxious, and if he understands why, sometimes it’s easier to talk him down by reminders that it’s anxiety, those things aren’t likely to happen.

Relaxation techniques especially if the anxiety involves physical feelings like heart beating faster, erratic breathing, shaking, etc. Some techniques I think might help him are breathing exercises, counting, and interrupting the anxious thoughts. When either of you notice him starting to become anxious, get him to a quiet room to help him practice these things. Breathing exercises are particularly effective when one places a hand on the chest and one on the stomach, takes a slow, regular breath, and watches the way their hands move on their chest and stomach as they breathe. Often focusing on breathing like this can help lessen the physical feelings of anxiety, which can be a huge help. Counting is pretty much what it sounds like ― when the anxiety spikes, have him count out loud to 10. If the anxiety is still there, try another set and have him count to 20. Counting is good because it’ll give him something to focus on other than the anxiety, and it’s a great technique when you’re out and about since it’s easier to do than some of the others. Interrupting the anxious thoughts works in a similar way, to break the train of thought the anxiety is riding on. There are a lot of different ways to do this; breaking out into a silly song or telling jokes, focusing on a better thought (like something he’s looking forward to later or a nice memory), or reading a book.

Keep a routine if you’re able to, or as much of one as you can. Waking up, having meals, and doing outings at the same time every day is one of the best ways to help him feel secure. Once he settles into a routine, it becomes familiar, and he’ll start to relax and feel more comfortable. It also helps to show him that you might leave at a certain time, but you also come back at a certain time. That can be a comforting reminder that might help lessen his anxiety.

Guided exposure and facing the fear. Whatever he tells you he’s afraid will happen is probably not going to happen, but anxiety isn’t logical. So it usually helps quite a bit to actually ‘prove’ that what he fears isn’t going to happen. Now, you definitely don’t want to do this without warning, but after talking to him and reassuring him that you won’t make him do anything he doesn’t want to do, exposure is an incredibly effective way to help gradually lessen the anxiety. Start with little steps, like walking away to the other side of the room and staying there for a few minutes. He’s almost certainly going to experience anxiety, and the idea is for him to ‘sit with’ those distressing feelings and ride them out. Once the anxiety starts to lessen and he feels almost ‘bored’ by it, he can start to understand that his fear isn’t going to come true, because it didn’t happen during the exposure. You can slowly escalate the steps, like going into a different room for a few minutes, leaving the house for a few minutes, etc. etc., until he gets to the point that he can successfully manage his anxiety whenever you’re out of sight.

Imagining exercises, if he’s not quite ready for the exposure. This is similar to the exposure, but instead of actually exposing him to your leaving, you’ll help him through imagining it. As if he’s watching a movie that involves whatever makes him anxious, visualizing it in his mind is sometimes the first step before actual exposure. It’s not a real situation, but it still allows him to experience the anxiety and stay with it until it starts to come down.

Teach your other Bitties some of these techniques, for sure, if they’re willing to learn! Having someone else around who can help, whenever you’re not there, is often a big comfort. He might think you’re the only one who can help him because the separation anxiety is centered around the two of you, but if one of the other Bitties can utilize the techniques you’re using with him, he might feel better about you not being there, because he’s still with someone ‘safe’.

Make use of praise when he successfully gets through an anxious situation! You can praise him, or he can actually give himself some praise. Things along the lines of “I’m proud of you for getting through that” from you or telling himself “I was brave for doing that and I should be proud of myself” or getting a special treat after doing something that made him anxious are powerful tools. Praise often makes people happy and reinforces that whatever they did was positive, motivating them to do it more. Lots of cuddles after a stressful situation also doesn’t hurt!

Being patient even as you try these things is also key. This kind of stuff surrounding lessening his anxiety is a skill, and it takes practice. If the two of you don’t practice it whenever the anxiety crops up, even once he starts to feel better, it’s a ‘use it or lose it’ kind of deal.

You should start to see improvement in a month or two, if this is a temporary situation! If he doesn’t seem to improve in six months, definitely make a psych appointment; separation anxiety after the six-month mark can be indicative of a bigger anxiety disorder, and often medications are the best way to get those under control initially.

Hope this helps! Let me know how things work out. 💚

#anxiety tw #answered #Bittybones #From the Desk of Dr. Lauren Derricks #Bitty advice #psychobabble #Anonymous

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catflorist · 4 years

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The Garden (ao3 / ffn) catflorist Summary: SasuSaku. Sasuke left Konoha for a cottage in the woods. One day, Sakura arrives injured at his doorstep. They recall their past and think about what comes next. Slow burn, post-canon, about how Sasuke and Sakura grew close again. Rated T through Chapter 5, then M. 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7

The Garden Chapter 2

True to the instincts of a traveling shinobi on constant alert, the instant Sakura opened her eyes in the morning light she was awake.

She spotted a pitcher of water and a wooden cup beside her bed, next to a platter of bread and a selection of fruit. Sitting up, the water was down her throat before she could even think. She filled the cup again and drank slower this time, testing out her limbs one by one. The location of her old wound was smooth as if it hadn’t been open and bleeding half a day before. Except for an ache in her skull, not a whisper of pain remained in her body.

After quenching her thirst, Sakura reached for the food and began chewing. Her eyes fell upon a third offering next to her bedside: a folded pile of clothes. Her skin twitched under its layer of grime, dirt, and blood. She vowed to bathe before dressing in the clean clothes.

Basic needs met, Sakura shifted her attention to her surroundings. The interior of the cottage was small, with tall ceilings, and built in the traditional style. Except for hand-carvings decorating the door and window frames, there were no frills. Leaves pressed up against windows and morning light dappled the room. The sound of nearby moving water and the smell of dried wood soothed her senses.

Sakura sorted through the clothes Sasuke had left. There were loose pants and a shirt that were clearly his. A rough bar of soap. He had even thought of underthings: a pair of cropped shorts, wrappings for her chest snatched from a medical kit and coiled in a careful bundle. Heat prickled her cheeks as she eyed the last two items.

The events of yesterday filtered through her mind. She stilled, remembering the sensation of Sasuke’s chakra coursing through her, healing her. The soft weight of his hand on her skin.

Sakura could not believe she was here. Part of her had expected never to see Sasuke again.

Sakura couldn’t help it: she thought back to months ago, before he decided to leave the village for the third time.

* * * *

Once Sakura learned how to read the signs of Sasuke’s friendship, they were everywhere.

As Genin, after her one-sided infatuation with Sasuke had transformed into mutual respect and understanding, she learned the subtle ways in which he expressed his affection. He always listened when she spoke, even if he sometimes only responded with silence, a grunt, or a rare smirk. When it was his turn to cook on Team Seven missions, he reserved the crispy crust of rice at the bottom of the pot—the okoge—for her. She could never recall informing him of this preference. As they learned how to fight, he corrected her form and technique without mercy, but scowled at Naruto if he also commented on Sakura’s performance. Racked with the pain of Orochimaru’s curse mark during the Chunin exams, he had reached desperately for her hand and squeezed.

She could never reconcile these old memories of Sasuke with the memories of him that gave her nightmares. Those jerked her out of sleep, shaking and convinced he was still pressing a kunai blade to her neck.

When Sasuke returned to the village after his period of wandering, they had both grown and changed. As Genin on Team Seven, common experiences, hopes, and fears united them.

Now they were both adults, each defined by experiences and efforts that were unknown to the other. They had been enemies. Sakura didn’t know how to be around him anymore.

Sakura left the hospital late one night.

In the cool night air, her heart leap with joy and pride. Another group of students training under her in medical ninjutsu had graduated that day and joined her growing cohort. Sakura was committed to Tsunade’s dream of lowering the mortality rate on missions by dispatching a medical-nin with each team. Slowly but surely, she was increasing the number of shinobi in the village with medical knowledge.

Sasuke rounded the corner of the empty street. Sakura nearly jumped. She was still not used to the sight of him in the village. He had returned to Konoha a month ago in the spring. They had not spoken much.

He nodded at her, acknowledging her presence. She nodded back. That concluded the normal extent of their interactions. But Sakura was in a good mood, so she called, “You’re out late tonight.”

Sasuke raised an eyebrow at her. “You’re one to talk,” he observed. He continued walking.

Sakura squinted at his back. She kept waiting to detect the familiar note of contempt in this voice. She had yet to do so. This was also new.

Sasuke didn’t sleep much these days. His body still craved the movement and discomfort of constant travel. After dark, he wandered the streets of the village until exhaustion came.

On one of these nights, Sakura stood on the steps of the hospital as he passed by. He wasn’t shocked to see her here so late—talk of her accomplishments expanding the Konoha medical system were everywhere since he came back to the village.

Sakura was different. This was already clear when they fought briefly together during the war. Back then she had stunned him on the battlefield with the full extent of her strength and power. She had grown fierce and confident. Holding back no emotion, she lashed out at him in passionate anger. She cried over his wounded body and healed him without hesitating. She asked him not to go. She did not accept his apology.

Now, all of Sakura’s strong feelings seemed to be gone. She did not avoid him when they crossed paths, but she did not seek him out.

A clear joy marked her face tonight. For a moment, there was no difference between Sakura now and the Sakura he knew as a child. A part of Sasuke stilled, realizing how little of herself she showed to him now. It was just a fact. He was not allowed to have an opinion on the matter.

She greeted him.

Later, Sasuke felt light in his bed. He slept.

If a third party like Naruto had initiated the contact, Sakura and Sasuke politely spent time together. It seemed one commonality they still shared was a penchant to please Naruto.

To Naruto’s clear delight, his friendship with Sasuke had picked up without skipping a beat. The two of them fell back into their friendly competitiveness. They sparred for hours on end. They bickered with what might closely be described as affection. Sakura had even seen Naruto tease a smile out of Sasuke. Despite her guardedness towards Sasuke, Sakura softened in those moments. She did want him to be happy.

Naruto had dragged a group to Ichiraku’s. Lee wept solemn tears over a portrait that Sai had presented to him. Hinata, Ino, and Choji watched horrified as Naruto slurped ramen at a frightening speed. Sasuke was there.

Sakura was in a bad mood.

“Is it Ito-sama again?” Naruto asked, watching Sakura slam her bowl down, sloshing broth on the counter.

Sakura glanced around Ichiraku’s to make sure it was just them.

She let out a deep breath. “He won’t increase my training budget,” Sakura complained. Ito-sama on the village council praised her for training the next generation of medical shinobi yet refused her the resources she needed to do her work. It was infuriating. “I don’t know what else I’m supposed to do.”

“Maybe it’s because your hair is getting too long. You could cut it again,” Ino suggested.

The others laughed, recalling Sakura’s dramatic haircut during the Chunin exams years ago. It was funny precisely because the moment illustrated Sakura’s creativity and determinism in the face of a challenge. They knew she would find a way out of this bind.

“Get your scissors, Ino,” Choji called.

“Don’t think I won’t do it again,” Sakura kindly threatened the group.

“I’m afraid for the council,” Naruto gulped. He clung to Hinata.

Amid the banter, Sasuke’s eyes met hers, wary and watchful.

Half-asleep in bed that night, she remembered Sasuke’s reaction. In the moment, she found it odd. Another thought occurred to her now.

Sasuke lacked the context of their conversation. He didn’t know the details of Sakura’s recent work lobbying the council. He was not familiar with Ino’s language of teasing.

He only knew the shared memory. In the same fight where Sakura had sliced off her own hair, Sasuke released the dark power of his curse mark against the people who hurt her. He had done this to protect her. It was also the first step he had taken away from her. The first moment he had tasted the power that tempted him away from the village.

It was possible he wanted to see whether she had been upset.

Sakura was wide awake.

Sakura sat on the steps of the hospital. The moon was up high. She had just recruited a new cohort of students and stayed late to finalize the details. She was exhausted.

When Sasuke rounded the corner, irritation ticked in her stomach.

Her indifference to him faltered then. “Leaving again?” she jested, even though it was clear he was taking a walk. How dare he disturb her solitude when all she wanted was to be alone?

How dare he worry whether she was upset?

Sasuke halted. He didn’t scowl, but he was not happy.

Sakura felt calm. This was familiar territory. She prepared for his retort.

Then his features shifted. He grunted a short, “No.”

Sakura let up.

“All right,” she sighed. “Good night.”

He stood silent for a while. Sakura’s brow furrowed. She could never tell what he was thinking.

Head turned away, Sasuke finally said, “Good night, Sakura.”

It was the middle of summer. Sakura was busy. When she wasn’t teaching her team, she worked to establish policies at the academy and hospital that made medical training mandatory in the teaching of all shinobi. She fought with the village council. She also worked her regular shifts at the hospital. And trained her own abilities. Naruto wailed at her busy schedule and started inviting himself over to her apartment in the evenings.

“It’s important to spend time together, Sakura-chan,” he insisted, arriving unannounced at her door the first time. “You’re too busy.”

She loved the time with Naruto. He sometimes brought Ichiraku take-out, or instant-ramen which he enhanced with poorly chopped green onions. In return she coaxed him to eat her health-conscious meals. Sometimes Ino or Hinata joined, or members of the medical team that Sakura trained.

Then one day Naruto brought Sasuke.

The first time, she struggled to keep a straight face when she saw him at the door behind Naruto.

At the door, Naruto exclaimed, “Whatever you’re cooking smells great! Oh, yeah, I thought it was about time we had Sasuke over! That’s okay, right Sakura-chan?”

“I thought she knew we were coming,” Sasuke mumbled to Naruto, who was already bounding past them and removing his shoes.

“Oh.” Sakura said. “Well—”

Sasuke glanced down the hallway. Sakura realized he was waiting for her cue. One downward shift of the mouth or brow and he would go.

On a different night, on many nights, Sakura might have given him that cue, and he would have left.

“—the rice is almost ready,” Sakura finished. She opened the door wider.

Tonight, she didn’t want him to leave.

Sasuke paused, then crossed into the apartment.

It was strange to see him in the same landscape where she lived her daily life. He sat on the couch next to Naruto, head turned to read the titles on her bookshelf. Naruto’s friendliness and chatter kept silence and Sakura’s nerves at bay. Though Sasuke had never been a conversationalist, he was listening. And when nudged enough, he chipped in.

Naruto was laughing. “Sakura, you always had the best chakra control out of all of us. I couldn’t believe it when you first walked up that tree.”

Sakura smiled, remembering the feeling of chakra pooling on the soles of her feet for the first time. As natural as breathing, she ran up the bark of that tall tree into the sky. Her world had changed.

“Sasuke was so mad!” Naruto shoved Sasuke with his shoulder. “You had to ask me how she did it.”

Sakura didn’t know this.

“You weren’t a very good teacher,” Sasuke grumbled in response.

For the first time that evening, Sakura let her gaze rest on Sasuke for longer than a polite glance. He was busy scowling at Naruto. The tips of his ears were pink.

“Maybe,” Sakura retorted, “you should have asked me first.”

The corners of Sasuke’s mouth twitched.

“Maybe I should have,” he answered. His quiet voice contained a tease.

The night had gone well.

* * * *

Sakura’s eyes refocused. She picked up the bundle of clothes, slid open the door to outside, and followed the sound of the water.

#sasusaku #sasusaku fanfiction #sasusaku fanfic #ss fanfiction #catflorist #my ss #my fic #the garden #ss fic

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ekhap · 3 years

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The Beginning

And, with the first post on this account minutes ago, I am proud to present my first story for this tumblr - the Beginning. Bandit/Montagne, Rated T

Read it here! or below!

“I need you to look at me, okay? Look at me – everything is going to be okay. I swear.”

It wasn’t. He’s lying through his teeth and Dom knows it.

—*—

When Dominic Brunsmeier joined Rainbow, it was the break of a lifetime. He could start new – create a whole new persona that only Elias would see through. A persona that he could feel comfortable in.

Harry calls it a coping mechanism. Dom, though? It’s an asset of the highest degree.

Only when he joined and was faced with 18 new faces – he had never even heard of a Monika Weiss or Marius Streicher in the GSG9 – that he realized his mistake. These weren’t his buddies in Hell’s Angels, or even the normal workaholics in the GSG9, but battle-hardened professionals. Quite frankly, they could care less about how he presented himself. So he made them care.

Luckily, this didn’t make him too many enemies. In fact, he buddied up with the SAS bum who insists everyone call him Smoke. He says it’s to add to his mystique, but Dom just so happens to know that it’s reallybecause if another colleague calls him Jamie he will go feral.

A former alcoholic and a father to an adopted daughter. Yet again, someone who simply does not care who or what he is, but how much he can drink, prank the others, and win bets. They sabotage the coffee machine justright to make Thatcher infuriated when his tea taste like metal, and they giggle like schoolkids getting away with something.

Then, Dom’s eyes wander. Aurelia “Six” Arnot takes regular trips to other countries to scout out other counter-terrorism unit. American, Canadian, Brazilian, and Japanese men and women join the already-crowded halls of Hereford, and Dom thinks.

Thinks about how close the Spetznaz are, yes, but specifically how Kapkan and Glaz always drift towards each other before Fuze and Tachanka. How Rook looks when he gets off the phone after talking in excited French. How Thermite gravitates towards Pulse, who could really care less. How that traitor Smoke smacks Mute’s behind before demanding he make out with him. And then how Mute does. In the middle of the workshop.

Dom thinks, and he doesn’t like the thoughts his brain is spitting out.

—*—

“Please, put a little bit of effort in, Dom, we got to get you out in one piece.” A shot rings out in the distance.

The mission was supposed to be quick. The hostage was in a small holding cell, awaiting execution. Six had told them that they most likely had twelve hours to raid the Spanish cell of terrorists before they executed the hostage. A woman named Miriam, a scientist at the peak of her career, but the other operators could care less.

Dom cares. He remembers. Doesn’t do anything with the information, but she deserves a name. He missed his when he was undercover.

Bad Intel, he can imagine Six’s voice saying. He’ll be in the hospital when Ash gives the debrief, and he can imagine the casualty report - soclose to being pristine. Too bad he got shot, but at least it wasn’t dear Miriam.

Who the fuck is carrying him, anyways?

—*—

When he first approaches Marius, it didn’t go as successfully as he had hoped. Though, he should have expected that, as asking him directly, “Want to come back to my place,” with no preamble at the local bar would have made anyone confused. If Dom was being honest, though, the way he spit out his drink was hilarious.

When Marius awkwardly tries to explain that sorry, I’m not interested you in that way, Dom’s eyes are already drifting. There’s a brunette in the corner showing off her cleavage, but she’s giggling with her friends and raiding a party isn’t Dom’s style. Right now, anyways. A guy with a strong face sitting three bar stools away from Marius, exactly Dom’s type, except for the fact that he’s drinking tea. At a pub not a mile away from a military base. That strong face is already only surface level, in Dom’s eyes.

When Marius asks if he’s paying attention, he looks back down at the poor engineer blushing, as if he was putting himself out there.

“No, I wasn’t.” Dom says, kisses Marius on the cheek, and before Marius can retaliate, confidently strides off. Monika comes out of the bathroom and looks at Marius quizzically before he shakes his head.

So, no, Dom’s first journey into Rainbow’s pants didn’t go specifically as planned, but he still tried, didn’t he? And so what if it stung a bit to see Marius blushing at Doc the next day, Dom’s mind had already moved past any thought of the awkward engineer. Surely. And so what if Doc was confused when Marius thanked him profusely for the chocolates, and asked him out. Finally. It was all a part of Dom’s plan.

If he couldn’t do the job, someone else can do it better.

—*—

It’s an agonizing turn of the head to see his savior’s face. Previously, he had just lolled his head back and was happy that someone decided to check if he was alive or not.

Strong jawline. Hard-set eyes. Balaclava obscuring everything else about his face.

“I’m going to adjust you, alright? Tell me if you’re in pain.” It’s a French accent, and oh if luck would have it that Doc was carrying him out of the building. After Chimera and Truth or Consequences, there was the off-chance that it was Lion carrying him out, but Dom doubts that he would make any effort after Dom told him he deserved to get punched by Thatcher. And after he told him that he could fuck his sky daddy if he loved him so much.

Finally, the man stops walking, adjusts his hold on Dom, and digs his fingers directly into the wound site. It’s all Dom can do to groan to try to make his savior aware.

He gets the hint, and moves his hand so it’s gripping a bit further up on his thigh.

—*—

Then something happens a year into Rainbow. August 13th, exactly. A day of mourning for Dom, but for those that don’t get the hint, a day to throw presents at him and act like they care.

Some of them do, actually. Smoke gets him an explicit t-shirt he found online with a woman sitting on a man’s face. Elias throws him a gift card and tells him to go buck wild. Marius, surprisingly, gives him an intricate machine made of inter-locking gears that all turn simultaneously. It’s an invitation, though not the same one Dom extended at the bar. It sits on his desk that he never uses, now, and reminds him why he still talks to the engineer endlessly infatuated with the doctor.

First, Rook is comforted by Elias. This sets the springboard for the two men to snap together like magnets, almost worse than the disaster couple in the SAS. They’re awkward, cute, and fawn over each other and it makes Dom want to hurl every time he sees them interact.

Second, Blitz introduces Montagne to him. A man that matches his namesake in how he towers over Bandit, but shocks him with how nice he is. He stands in stark contrast to the bubbly Rook, excruciatingly serious Doc, and analytical Twitch with his niceties.

Gilles, he says his name is. But everyone calls him Monty.

Third, Dom goes drinking. This, in of itself, would be hardly worth mentioning, but drowning in the reminders of his brother, how Cedric could have been here instead of him and Dom would have been just as happy for him, he looses sense of time at some point. His last memory of that night is sizing up a short woman with cropped black hair, and he wakes up in a bed with Monty, clinging to his arm.

So, technically, the something happens one day after, but it’s all the same to Dom.

After staring at the mountain of a man for entirely too long, he begins to wake up. Stretches the arm that’s free, shakes himself out a bit, all before he opens his eyes.

They’re a beautiful icy blue.

“Good morning,” Gilles mumbles.

Dom simply moans. Quietly. Staring at his neck.

Then, it all hits him. His head starts pounding, and he feels like throwing up violently into the nearest receptacle. He turns onto his back and groans openly.

“Here, take this,” Dom glances over and sees two pills extended out. He gingerly picks them up, and is offered a glass of water. He takes it and takes greedy gulps. Gilles chuckles lightly next to him.

“So, uh,” Dom starts, forcing himself to look back at the man, still holding the glass of water and no longer clinging to the other man’s arm. “How was the sex? Because, really, I cannot remember any of it.”

“Dom, we didn’t- I would never-” Gilles begins tripping over himself to explain himself. It’s endearing. Almost. Gilles stops and clears his throat. “I, uh, Elias called me, and asked me to check for you at the bars in the area. He said he checked the three closest to Hereford but had to get back to base. He said that he would’ve called Marius but he wanted to make sure that you came back in one piece. I found you slumped in a bar stool, and I brought you back to base, but you-uh, didn’t have your key readily accessible. So, here we are.”

“So here we are.” It’s a story that makes sense. He hasn’t been able to pick anyone up since his days in Hell’s Angels, when he shaved his head and looked more intimidating than attractive. But, there is one question.

“So why the hell am I wrapped around your arm?”

“You wouldn’t let go of me last night, I was going to sleep in the living room but you’ve got a surprisingly strong grip when drunk, you know?”

“So I’ve been told.”

—*—

The blinding light of the sun forces Dom to close his eyes, and when he’s roughly laid down onto a stretcher that he realizes, yes, he survived that ordeal, and no, he didn’t lay on the floor for a period of time after getting shot in nearly the same spot.

It’s hard, but he turns his head towards the man who saved him and sees the massive riot shield that could only belong to one man.

—*—

Nothing changes. Monty is the highest form of the good – the perfect person to fall in love with.

So Dom doesn’t. It’s easy, he was in denial about who he really was for seven years, what’s a flight of fancy.

Except he keeps happening.

The two go out drinking. Dom, for the first time, goes a month without blacking out. Then two. Then he stops keeping count. As Elias becomes more and more infatuated with Rook, surprising even himself with how much he could dote on another man, Monty becomes a permanent figure in Dom’s life.

It’s disorienting. And almost unwelcome if he wasn’t so… Monty. Stable, kind, awkwardly funny Monty.

Then he mentions an ex-wife, and everything is almostperfect. Why get your hopes up when they have no chance of being interested in you? After all, Monty has never expressed interest in anyone, no man nor woman, so the most logical solution is that he’s straight and retired from dating.

Then, of course, Dom ends up in Monty’s lap desperately making out with him. Or bouncing on his cock. Or mouth filled with that same, succulent-

And he always wakes up in a slightly cold sweat, slightly panicked, feeling just slightly off. He can’t even look at any of the other people at the bar without thinking but what if? And, really, it’s too hopeful for Dom’s liking.

When he brings it up to Smoke, the other man’s cheeks are flushed from an interaction with Mute. It’s the only time that he seems to have for Dom anymore, but he doesn’t mind, not with a mountain of a man slowly wedging his way into his life as a permanent figure. Just ask him, mate he said. Worst he can say is no, but he’s wrong. It could be somuch worse.

—*—

What happens in the next few minutes is a solid blur for Dom. He sees Doc’s face, eyes full of judgement as if it was his fault he got shot through a wall. Stares at Monty’s back as he debriefs Ash on the situation, who writes it down diligently. Feels a piercing pain in his thigh as the bullet is taken out, and he finally, finally, slips into the unconscious world.

—*—

He doesn’t ask Monty for anything. It’d be too rude, to ask the man who graces him with his presence for more than that. He basks in the man like a cat in the sun, and when they get drunk enough to crave physical contact, Dom files those memories away for lonely nights. Never reaching what Dom would deem perfect, but who can claim to have that, anyways?

Time passes. He finds out that before everything, Monty was considering going to a music school for the cello, and Dom can’t help but chortle imagining the trained killer sitting on a stage, brow furrowed in concentration as he plays. Monty delves deep enough into Bandit’s past to find the trauma, and they spend a night in Dom’s room, the owner crying into the other’s arms.

File, file, file.

It’s years later, with their relationship built on respect and genuinely enjoying each other’s friendship that Flores is recommended to the new Six, Harry, that Bandit takes a good look at his life. Desperately clinging onto a crush that could have otherwise been easy enough to push underneath a pillow and suffocate, should he have chosen to cut off all contact.

He thinks about Goyo and Blackbeard, whispering with smiles on their faces, then fighting five minutes later. Kapkan and Glaz always carpooling. Elias and Rook considering getting a bigger apartment.

It’s so fucking unfair. But fair isn’t what Dom asked for, did he?

Flores waltzes into Rainbow, and smiles when he talks about his husband. How if Rainbow proved stable enough, he’d fly him out to live in Hereford. Picture perfect, the essence of stability.

So Dom makes a move. Sees his surroundings, and refuses to remain, what he sees, as an outlier.

—*—

When Dom wakes up, he’s in the nearest hospital. The clinical white lighting blinds him for a second, but when he comes to his senses, he takes a look around his room.

It’s perfectly clean, no flowers, personal items, or anything, really. The clothes he wore on the mission sit in a neat pile in one of the two chairs, and in the other sits the mountain of a man who Dom has come to rely upon. Sleeping peacefully, his head lolled forward. He’s too perfect to disturb.

Luckily, staring at Monty seems to have done enough to disturb him, and he begins his long process of waking up that, so far, Dom has only seen once. The scrunch of the shoulders, raising of the elbows, big sigh, all before he opens crystal blue eyes.

What beauty, wasted on Dom.

“Hey,” Dom says, voice gravelly. He would cough but he worries Monty would see him as sick or weakand he worries about Monty worrying.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty.” And there it is, the slight smile, just a bit slighter since last time he saw it.

“Should I ask about the sex or is that too far?” And, yes, there it is, the killer smile that could make Dom faint again.

“It was alright, would’ve been better if you weren’t bleeding out, but,” he reaches a hand out to Dom’s face and strokes his thumb over the cheekbone. It’s so comforting that Dom has trouble breathing for a second. “I was thinking, though.”

“That’s never good.”

“No, you’re right, it’s not.” He takes the comforting warmth away and grabs a hold of Dom’s hand. “But I think, once you get out, we should talk. Does Augusta’s sound good?”

And Dom flashes back.

Do you think we could go somewhere different? He asked.

Somewhere different how?

Augusta’s has great food, even Maestro approves of her cooking.

Are you asking me out?

And Dom shuts the fuck up and shakes his head.

“Augusta’s sounds perfect.” And Dom can’t stop smiling.

Maybe, just maybe, Monty wasn’t lying on the battlefield. It could, just maybe, be alright.

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fancyfade · 4 years

Photo

Batfam Height - core members and batfam height - everyone else by Fade31415

This has been in my WIPs for months, but I’m finally done! Technically I’m not sure if everyone here is “officially” batfam, since I view Renee as more of an independent agent but I’ve heard her be listed as Batfam and I wanted to draw her. so :P

okay so this is going to be a super long post, so the decisions for why I drew who with what is just going to double as an image description, since I’m not sure it makes sense to write [image: barbara gordon wearing her armored new 52 batgirl costume end image] and then follow it with “I decided to draw the Batgirl version of babs in her new 52 costume because I liked it better because of the armoring.

anyway: everyone’s heights and outfit decisions under the cut!

Alfred Pennyworth: (first Alfred is present day, balding and 65, second Alfred is when he just met Bruce, with a full head of black hair). Alfred is 6'0" like it says he is on his wiki page. He’s got his regular butler outfit, which seems to be a suit with those two hanging down things on the back? IDK what its called.

Cassandra Cain/Batgirl: Cass is 5'5" like it says she is in the back of Batgirl: To the Death. I combined her Batgirl and Orphan suit because I love the lightly armored aesthetic on Orphan, but I also prefer her as Batgirl. Her civilian outfit is just an outfit she wears in I think the start of Batgirl: To the Death? A crop top and black pants basically.

Bruce Wayne/Batman: Bruce is 5'7" which is NOT canon, but I put him a little short in my headcanon. This isn't for any real reason but last time I drew him not tall I got a whiny fanboy complaining he wasn't physically intimidating enough, so I'm specifically not changing it because of that I still do try to draw him with like... actual muscles so he can do stuff, because he's a very physical character. His outfits are just batman outfit and then the regular suit he wears all the time. Nothing exciting there.

Dick Grayson/ Nightwing/ Agent 37: Dick is 5'10" like it says he is on the wiki. He's got his nightwing rebirth costume for the superhero version, which is mostly all black with slight blue accents and fairly skin tight, cuz that costume was just beautiful, though I did add a little bit of armoring like he has in teh animated movies for practicality. Then he has his Grayson outfit for his 'civilian' clothes (even though it's not really civilian clothes I like how it looks). Khaki pants a gray T shirt and some pouches for spy stuff. He’s also got his escrimas in both forms, cuz signature weapon.

Barbara Gordon/Oracle/ Batgirl: Babs is 5'11" like it says she is in the back of Batgirl: To the Death. Even though she never got magicured in my headcanon, I drew her new 52 batgirl outfit because i like the armored aesthetic better. Her civlian clothing is just the skirt and black turtleneck she wears in BTAS. Her Oracle outfits are a tanktop (so we can see her buff arms) and then my favorite outfit she wore in the comics (jeans and a leather jacket). She has buffer arms and thinner legs as Oracle, because she is using her arms way more than her legs.

Damian Wayne/Robin: I drew Damian once at 10 years old, when he just started being Robin, and then at 13, like he is in the present. I chose his Batman and Robin (2011) costume over the 2009 one, because i liked how it looked better, and Robin: Son of Batman costume over Rebirth because Robin Son of Batman is my FAVORITE costume for him. both costumes have a red tunic and black pants, the batman and robin 2011 one has a yellow cape and black hood but the son of batman one has a black cape with gold trim. He's 4'6" at 10 years old and 4'11" at 13. His civilian clothing is a simple suit at 10 and the yellow sweatervest he wears in Robin Son of Batman #6 at 13.

Onyx Adams: Onyx is 5'9" like her wiki entry says. Her civilian outfit is the monk outfit (a long loose orange robe). Her superhero outfit is what she seems to fight in, which is just a crop top and black pants.

Kate Kane/ Batwoman: Kate is 5'11" like her wiki entry says, and I let her be a little broader around the shoulders and hips after seeing a broader Batwoman drawing I really liked. She's wearing her rebirth costume, mostly black with a red bat symbol and red trim, and got her rebirth short hair on her civilian outfit. her civilian outfit is black pants, a black vest, and a button up white no sleeve shirt.

Stephanie Brown/Batgirl: Stephanie Brown is 5'5" like her wiki entry says. I can't remember why I put her in her Batgirl costume instead of her Spoiler costume (maybe because I haven't drawn her as Batgirl before?) Either way, her Batgirl costume is black with purple trim. her civilian outfit is jeans, a purple shirt, and a leather jacket, which I think I saw her wearing in one of her batgirl issues but it’s been a while.

Tim Drake/ Red Robin: He is 5′6″ like his wiki entry says, though that might have been referencing when he was younger because it also listed his weight as 125 pounds. But I figured some guys are allowed to be short :P he has his first red robin costume (black pants, red tunic, cowl that covers his face except for his mouth and chin like batman’s) and his civilian outfit is just jeans and a white button up shirt.

Duke Thomas/Signal: I couldn't find Duke's height on the wiki so I guessed and put him at 5'9". He’s a little lean cuz he’s 16 and still growing. his superhero outfit is his bright yellow and black signal outfit with the motorcycle helmet with bat ears. His civilian clothing is an outfit he wore in Robin War (jeans, red shoes, a red hoodie).

Jean-Paul Valley/Azrael: Jean-Paul is 6'2" like his wiki entry says. In Batman: the Sword of Azrael, he seemed to be drawn leaner before becoming Azrael and buffer afterwards, so maybe his Azrael training/programming gave him guns? IDK that's why I drew both a thin version and a buff version in the civilian clothes, which are a white T shirt, leather jacket, and jeans.

Azrael outfit only gets the buff version though. I combined the 90s outfit and his new 52 outfit because... I'm gonna be real I LOVE his 90s outfit, even though it is very 90s. But I also had a hard time drawing it in my style, which is why I borrowed some from new 52. so he’s got golden boots like in new 52, but otherwise red, mostly skintight outfit, a golden chestplate, large shoulderpads and large gauntlets, like in the 90s. with his cool wrist sword. obviously.

Jason Todd/ Red Hood: I was actually conflicted as to whether include Jason because my all time favorite appearance for him (after his intro, when he whacks batman on the stomach with a tire iron) is the Red Hood movie, where he is decidedly not batfam and rather an enemy. But lots of people count him as Batfam and he’s an ally in the current continuity, so I drew him. Jason is 6'0" like his wiki entry says. He's just got an outfit inspired by his under the red hood movie outfit - black cargo pants, brown leather jacket. his civilian clothing has a grey T shirt and his red hood outfit has a black chestpiece with a red bat symbol and a red face covering helmet.

Helena Bertinelli/Huntress/Matron: Helena is 5'11" like her wiki entry says. She’s got her dark purple hooded Rebirth costume, and her tiny crossbow. I drew her as she appears in Grayson for the "civilian" version (black shirt with a white cross on it, reddish pants), to match the Agent 37 Dick on the other chart.

Renee Montoya/ the Question: Renee is 5'8" like her wiki entry says. She was very inspired by how Cully Hamner draws him in Pipelines, because I love Cully Hamner's art (reffed her outfits here: link). her civilian outfit is a white crop top and blue work out pants, and her question outfit is a leather jacket, black t shirt, fedora, and jeans. she’s holding a nunchaku in both.

Renee is a member I'm not sure "counts" as Batfam, because i view her more as an independent agent, but I've heard some people count her in it and I wanted to draw her anyway

Luke Fox/ Batwing: Luke Fox is 5'10" cuz i messed up and made him 1 inch too short (his wiki entry says 5'11"). He's got the blue polo he wears in Batman: Bad Blood in his civilian clothes, even though I consider comics Luke to be more "canon", but I couldn't think of what to draw him in from Comics luke's civlian outfits His batwing outfit is comics luke's batwing outfit as well -- all black and armored, covering every inch of his body, with the blue bat symbol and shiny blue eyes.

David Zavimbe/ Batwing: I like Luke, but David will always be the Batwing of my heart :P David is 5'8". It didn't say his height on the wiki so I had to guess, and I guess I let him not be super tall because there are already a ton of tall people in the Batfam. His civilian outfit is the uniform he wears in his day job (police officer), kind of green almost army looking clothes, and a black hat, and his batwing outfit is his first batwing outfit from the comics -- dark grey armor, domino-esque mask that has giant wing motifs coming from it, etc.

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newobsessioneveryweek · 4 years

Text

Sleep

I had LOADS of fun writing this 10k masterpiece with @jinmukangwrites. She’s an amazing writer and if you haven’t heard of her I suggest you check out her blog.

Inspired by a post made on @linkeduniversetweets (asked by @toschiworlds)

Brief spoiler-free summary: The Links spend a few days at Lon Lon Ranch during which Time manages to get himself concussed.

Enjoy

The Links had endured countless battles, vicious monsters, cascades of blood, and cold, unforgiving nights in the wilderness for several months but what laid before them offered the heroes a vital reprieve.

Blue skies and a gentle breeze greeted the Hero of Time when he climbed the small hill leading to his home in the early afternoon. The sun shone brightly upon him, almost unbearably warm, but a comforting feeling nonetheless. The smell of hay perfumed the air and left a lingering sweetness. But the sight of the woman that greeted him made the experience one hundred times sweeter. Time swung Malon once before leaning in and leaving a gentle kiss on her lips, relishing the bliss the reunion brought. The pair embraced and the remaining heroes either coed over the joyous moment or turned away to give the couple their privacy.

“I’ve missed you,” Time whispered into Malon’s shoulder. Malon could only barely stop herself from tearing up at her elation at hearing her husband’s voice.

“I missed you too,” she responded, her voice cracking slightly.

Lon Lon Ranch had become a haven for the travelling band of heroes and, though their job was far from finished, the Links felt that their abundant efforts could be rewarded with the few days they were able to spend in safety behind the walls of the ranch. But that luxury didn’t come without its small price.

***

“Chores!” Malon slammed a metal pail on the kitchen table, causing the Links who were having breakfast to jump in surprise. A beaming smile adorned her bright face as she looked around the room at each individual face.

Wild nearly dropped his sausage and Wind gasped the water he was drinking down the wrong pipe at the sudden raucous noise, causing him to cough excessively. “Who’s milking the cows and who’s feeding the cuccos,” Malon asked.

The Links around the table glanced at each other before quickly responding. “I’ll milk the cows,” They volunteered in unison. Malon laughed and took the bucket back. “If you can’t decide I’ll dish out the work myself. Wild, you can stay with me and wash dishes-”

“Lucky bastard,” Legend said.

“Language young man,” Malon chided. Legend immediately shut his mouth and listened. Malon tapped her chin before she turned to Legend. “Legend, you’re on cucco duty.”

“What? Why?”

“Because of that potty mouth of yours.” Beside Legend Warrior snickered. Malon huffed. “Alright Warrior, you can help him.”

“Oh, come on,” Warrior complained, which prompted a laugh from Legend in return.

“WInd, you can feed the pigs.”

“Yes,” Wind cheered. He liked the pigs.

“Twilight, you and Sky are on shovel duty,”

“What’s shovel- oh,” Sky then realised the odd job he’d been given and cringed.

“Yeah,” Twilight said.

“Hyrule and Four, hmm, you two are on milking duty with me.”

“Aw, yeah! I love milking duty,” Hyrule exclaimed.

“I don’t. The milk always gets on me,” Four grumbled.

“Well, maybe you should get a higher stool,” Legend joked.

Four stuck his tongue out at the remark and took the offered bucket from Malon once he cleared his plate.

“What about Time?”

“What about Time- I mean Link?”

“What’s his job?”

“Oh! I sent him to fix up one of the stables in the old barn. We’re planning on breeding the horses so we need more space.”

“Cool! Epona needs more friends,” Wind said excitedly. “Can I name the babies, please?” Wind practically begged her, and Malon easily granted his wish.

“Of course,” Malon said simply, smiling widely. “There’ll be plenty of names to give next time you happen to roll around our neck of the woods.”

***

“Let’s see,” Time muttered to himself as he took inventory of the tools on the shelf in front of him. “Wrench, saw. What’s that called again?” Time snapped his fingers, trying to remember the name of the strangle apparatus. “Gimlet,” he exclaimed. Time had long since finished his repair job, but he decided to make a list of their belongings while he was busy. He liked order and he knew Malon would appreciate the extra effort. Just knowing what you had made missing items easier to identify.

After he was done counting the hand tools he moved on to the gardening section of the barn where the heavier instruments were kept. Hoes and shovels, rakes and spades, pickaxes and regular axes hung neatly on hooks right above the Hero of Time, making it easy for him to see each individual item. “Okay, what do we have here?” Time took note of all the different items hung on the wall, jotting them down on his bulleted list as he went along the row.

“Alright, that seems to be- huh?” Time whirled around just in Time to see Epona barreling towards him at top speed. Her eyes held a spark of panic, she moved frantically as if trying to escape something. It all happened in a split second.

Epona charged, ramming straight into the startled hero and carrying him into the wall, causing the tools hung on the short, narrow hooks to fall on top of him. Epona whinnied in surprise and ran away from the scene, leaving the Hero of Time crumpled on the floor.

Time was faintly aware of the serious head wound he had sustained as a result of multiple sharp, heavy objects landing on his head. It took him approximately two seconds to realise how weak he felt and that if he moved his head even slightly overwhelming nausea would wash over him. His ears were ringing, his head ached and he felt absolutely helpless.

Sleepiness slowly began to creep upon him but Time fought the feeling with his entire being. He would spend his energy trying to avoid the inevitability of sleep. He had to fight it! If he didn’t… he would not be the same when he woke up.

In his stupor, he hadn’t realised the day’s coming to an end and so the feeble hero laid helpless on the floor of the old barn, desperately trying to stay awake.

-o-o-o-o-

"This brings me back," Twilight said, shoving the shovel down in his hands for the dozenth time that evening. He dug the blade of the shovel under a particularly large pile of manure and lifted it so he can dump in an ever pulling wheelbarrow graciously provided by Malon.

Beside him, Sky grunted as he too worked a shovel into the ground. He wiped his brow with the back of his hand and then continued. "This brings you back?"

"Oh yeah. Growing up, I didn't have parents. I had to get money to fend for myself by doing odd jobs for the people of the village I lived in" Twilight explained, "one of those jobs was mucking up the fields. Didn't enjoy it at the time, but it was good and honest work for a child. Now that I'm older, I help out with herding and taking care of the animals. We have the younger kids cleaning the fields now."

"Odd jobs where I came from normally included carrying books," Sky said somewhat bitterly as he unloaded his shovel into the wheelbarrow, "or cleaning blackboards."

Twilight let out a chuckle and stuck his shovel into the ground, looking around the field to admire their work. Malon did a fantastic job with caring for the ranch herself, but she was probably overworked with her husband gone off on another adventure, and seeing her field all clean-looking filled Twilight's chest with pride.

"So, what now?" Sky asked, looking at the pile of manure with a wrinkled nose. Twilight shrugged and grabbed the handles of the wheelbarrow.

"I'm sure Malon has a place for us to put this so we can let it decompose."

"Oh," Sky hummed. "How long does that take?"

Twilight shrugged. "Depends. We can see if Malon wants us to throw any unused crops in there to help the process, but, either way, it should be fine to use as fertilizer by the time fields are ready-"

"Wait, did you say fertilizer?" Sky squawked and Twilight grinned.

"Oh yeah, city boy. Every farmer does it."

"U-uses poo to-"

"There you boys are," a new voice chimed in and Twilight turned to find Malon walking towards them, a smile on her face. "All done?"

"Yes ma'am," Twilight nodded while Sky stood there gaping. "Was just wanderin' where you wanted us to put this?"

"Oh, we have a spot for it by the mill, that way it doesn't stink up the house while it bakes," Malon said with a wink.

"I think I'm going to barf," Sky said, clutching his stomach and both Twilight and Malon burst into fits of laughter. "This isn't funny! I'm never going to be able to eat a vegetable ever again!"

"Oh honey, wait until you hear what we feed the pigs," Malon joked, and Twilight would have laughed along as Sky cried out in horror, covering his ears, but a different sound met Twilight's ears that took every drop of his attention away.

As a goat herder, there are sounds that he was trained to recognize. One of those was the sound of frantic, escaping hooves.

He turned his eyes away from Malon who was punching Sky's shoulder jokingly and looked towards the sound, only to see a horse raging right towards them.

Epona.

Instinctively—ditching the wheelbarrow—he rushed away from Malon—who at this point had noticed the startled horse as well—and threw his hands up, calling out. She was barreling right towards them, ears pinned back in panic and mouth loudly panting, until she reared up and cried out right before she could run into him.

Something scared Epona, if the way she remained agitated until Malon pushed her way through and began to sing a song, something scared her badly.

"Is she okay?" Sky asked hesitantly.

"I don't know," Malon said softly, rubbing Epona's mane with gentle movements. "What scared ya, girl?"

"If Epona is anything like my horse, nothing small," Twilight mused, he too joining in to stroke Epona's neck.

"We should find the others," Sky mumbled, pulling out his sword. Twilight agreed with a nod and unsheathed his own, the joking and good mood a mere fading memory now.

"If you don't mind, ma'am," Twilight said and gave his most assuring smile towards Malon, "you should head inside. I'll take care of Epona."

Malon looked like she was about to argue but then her shoulders sagged. "Bring everyone back safe. I'm sure it's just a wild animal."

-o-o-o-o-

"That'a'gal," Twilight hummed, leading Epona closer towards the stable, one hand still with his sword. Epona seemed to have calmed down some, but he's still worried about her. What could scare a horse that has been through so much?

He sighed and took another step towards the stable, and then he was knocked painfully off his feet by something appearing out from the ground. He landed harshly on his back with a grunt, just managing to avoid biting his tongue, but the sound of Epona's loud neigh was enough to get him quickly back onto his feet. He's back on solid ground just in time to jump to the side to avoid a fleshy, slug-like body and it's sharp pincers.

A leaver. An almost true constant between worlds. Annoying, fast, and persistent. However, they are normally found in the desert.

Twilight would wonder why this leaver was here if it wasn't for the disgusting inky tone to its body.

Infected.

Twilight jumped into battle without another second to lose. He didn't even have time to regret sending Sky to the opposite side of the field to search for the others before the leaver burrowed its strong body into the ground. Epona stomped the dirt with her hooves, whinnying loudly and angrily and he understood why she was so startled now. Any horse would be startled by something popping up from below them.

A section of ground popped up a bit and Twilight was on it in a heartbeat, jumping forward and sending his sword down. He could hear an agonized gurgle come from the creature but it wasn't done yet. It shifted and pushed forward, knocking him back. He lost grip of his sword and with a startled yell he was once again on his back. He just barely had enough time to look up for the creature but didn't have any more to spend on defending himself when it raced toward him.

Then, four raging hooves stomped on it and kept stomping on it until it was a gross pile of mush.

Twilight relaxed against the ground, forcing his heart to calm down.

Well, that happened.

He shoved himself once again to his feet and grabbed his sword, glaring at the creature now turned pudding. Epona didn't look like she'd calm down again anytime soon if the way she was huffing and snarling and stomping her feet indicated anything. So, he decided he'd let her be and go inside the stable, remembering that the old man should be in there. He could calm her down better.

He walked towards the door, gave a small knock, and opened it. "Hey, Time?" He called, the smell of horse meeting his nose. There was no answer, so he went all the way in, eyebrows furrowed by the silence.

Then, a groan.

He turned his neck, and his blood froze. "Oh Hylia. Time!'

Time laid miserably on his spot on the floor, tools strewn on and around him. Twilight sprinted towards his mentor, desperate to see what had caused the strong hero to look so vulnerable. Upon closer inspection, Twilight noticed the blood coating Time’s hair and face. “Goddesses, Time what happened to you?”

Time could only reach up and touch his forehead, wincing at the pain the simple action brought on.

Twilight was quick to sling Time’s arm around his shoulder but couldn’t manage to haul him up. If only the hero had removed his armour he would have been easier to lift. “Holy Hylia, Time, you weigh a ton.” Twilight sighed. “Okay, I’m going to get help. I’ll be right back.” Twilight ran as quickly as he could from the stable as Time groaned again and slumped back against the wall. It wasn’t long before he ran into Warrior and Legend who were busy tending the cucoos.

“Always remember,” Legend said beside Warrior who was holding a bag of feed at arm’s length, a cucoo standing innocently in front of him. “They can smell fear.”

“I’ve fought cucoo wars, my friend,” Warrior said eliciting a snicker from Legend, “I am not afraid of feeding these little punks.” As if on cue the cucoo crowed and Warrior visibly startled. Legend began cackling at his side, doubling over at the hilarity. “Shut up. I just got a fright.”

“Guys,” Twilight called, catching the pair’s attention. They turned to Twilight, seeing the weary look in his eyes.

“What’s wrong,” Warrior asked, concern in his voice.

“Time’s hurt. I can’t carry him alone. I need your help to take him to the house.”

“Say no more. I’ll come with you.” Warrior stepped over the fence keeping the cucoos and joined Twilight’s side.

“Me too,” Legend said, making his way over when Twilight stopped him.

“No, Legend. I need you to tell Malon what happened. She should be in the house.”

“O-okay. I’m on it.” Legend dashed off to the house and while Warrior and Twilight made their way hastily to the barn.

“How bad is it,” Warrior huffed as they ran across the field.

“I don’t know. He was pretty out of it when I got there but I hope he’s doing okay. He might have a concussion.”

Warrior hummed in thought. “What exactly happened?“

“I don’t know, but by the looks of it, some tools fell on top of him. He was lying under a bunch of gardening equipment.”

“Shit,” Warrior cursed. “I think you might be right about that concussion. How did that even happen?”

“I don’t know. He can tell us when we get him inside.”

They came to a stop in front of the red and white wooden building and pushed open the large wide doors.

“Old man,” Warrior called, peering inside, “You okay?”

Time was still on the floor, covered in blood and moaning. His eyes were glazed over but they held a note of fear behind them.

“Time, we’re going to help you. We just need to-” Twilight began as he knelt next to the man and slung his arm over his shoulder for the second time when he was interrupted by a sudden outcry.

“Get away from me,” Time yelled as loudly as he could in the state he was in. Twilight startled at his mentor’s harsh words, but he continued to lift him with Warrior’s help. “No, NO! Leave me,” Time continued to shout, fighting to free himself from Twilight and Warrior’s firm grip.

“Time, calm down, we’re just trying to take you home-”

“No, please,” Twilight spared a glance at the old man and his heart sank. Was Time crying? “Not again. I beg of you.”

“Time,” Twilight said gently, “It’s going to be fine.”

Just then Legend burst through the door. He doubled over, breathing heavily. “Fuck,” more breathing, “Okay,” he straightened and looked at the trio, Time’s teary-eyed visage and blood-soaked hair catching his notice above everything else. “Goddesses, Time, what happened?”

“We don’t know, but we need your help getting him to the house.”

Legend needed no more instruction and jogged over to help Twilight and Warrior carry the injured man. He took hold of Time’s legs but got kicked in the face for his efforts. “Ow! What-”

“Let go of me!” Time was frantic. He began kicking and flailing his arms to try and get away, but his efforts were weak despite his dedication.

“Time, we need you to cooperate,” Warrior scolded. “Malon’s probably worried sick.” Legend tried again to take hold of Time’s legs, but Time wouldn’t relent. He kept thrashing. “Time please-”

Time began wailing out of nowhere. He stopped fighting and fell to his knees, escaping from their grips but making no move to run. “I can’t. Don’t take me back there. The sacred realm,” Time sobbed, “I don’t want to go back.” Twilight froze. The sacred realm? Time had been there? Could that mean he was imprisoned with Ganondorf? And if that was the case, could that be why Time had been fighting them so relentlessly only a moment ago? Maybe his head wound was more serious than Twilight originally thought if Time was freaking out about events from that long ago. Twilight moved to pick him up again and this time his mentor didn’t flinch, probably having spent all of his energy trying to keep them away.

Soon the three heroes managed to get Time to the house without too much trouble. But the whole scene was still on Twilight’s mind. Why did Time think that they were going to take him to the sacred realm? What had traumatised the hero so much that he showed such vulnerability; such helplessness, and fear?

Before Twilight could ponder any longer Malon rushed to help her husband. She shouldered the weight Warrior had been carrying and they both managed to nearly drag Time upstairs to bed. All the while Time muttered words of protest, though he was unable to fight back effectively.

He seemed so lifeless. Boneless even. So unlike himself that it had Twilight swallowing something stuck in his throat. Something that felt like a seed of panic. Yet he knew he couldn't panic, not yet, because if he turned around he'd see the others looking at him, looking for some sort of direction, something to do.

Twilight didn't have anything for them to do. He barely knew what to do himself.

So he swallowed that seed and turned, keeping his face as neutral as he could manage, and looked at each hero in the eye. Legend, of course, was there, but until now Twilight hadn't noticed Wild and Four were there as well. Sky must have still been looking for the others.

Well, he supposed there was something to do.

"Head out, find the others, and bring your swords," he said calmly, a stark difference from what he was actually feeling. "I ran into an infected Leaver out there. They travel in packs, there could be more."

"Alright," Wild mumbled, grabbing his sword and walking out the door even though Twilight didn't think Wild knew what a leaver was. Legend shared a look with Twilight before nodding and running out to follow the champion.

"I'll go check on the traveler," Four said, "he's cleaning up the cow pen. The pig parlor is near there too, so I'll see if Wind is still there." And then he was out the door.

Then, Twilight was alone, looking at the empty house and feeling almost… lost on what to do. He supposed he could head out and search for Sky, but his feet didn't seem to want to move from their spot.

Then, the sound of creaking floorboards made themselves known behind Twilight. He turned around to see Warrior standing there.

Warrior gave Twilight a small smile and Twilight found himself smiling a tad bit back. Worry was a knot in his chest, but he was sure with the help of the others, this would just be a bump in the road.

"While they're finding the others," Warrior offered, "you and I can check the perimeter for more monsters."

Twilight was about to respond that it sounded like a plan, but then Malon made her appearance as well. "Actually, I need one of you boys to help me a little more," she said softly. Twilight glanced at Warrior and he shrugged, fixing his scarf around his neck so it wrapped a little around his chin.

"Why don't you help the lady," Warrior said, "I want to see these leavers for myself."

Twilight nodded, making a mental note to thank Warrior later, and then turned towards Malon as the other hero took his leave. Malon gave him a kind look before she stepped forward and brushed her finger across his cheek. "Look at you," she said, "you need a hose down more than the pigs."

Twilight released a breath and stepped away, folding his arms across his chest. "How is he?"

A grimace passed over Malon's features. "Tired. Confused. Scared. Nothing I haven't tackled before."

Twilight knew nightmares were not exclusive. Anyone could have them. Someone with a perfect life. Someone who've seen more war-torn days that simple days. Nightmares crept up on the cowardly. Pounced on the brave. It shouldn't surprise him that things like this had happened to Time before.

"Thankfully, he's keeping himself awake," Malon continued, beginning to head towards the front door. Twilight quickly followed along. "I don't know if he's conscious enough to purposely keep himself awake, or if… if he's subconsciously doing it. But either way, it gives us time to find help."

She walked out of the house with Twilight at her heels, and eventually, she stopped by a small garden of berry bushes. She worked her way past them and revealed a small birdbath.

Well, a fairy bath actually.

"Drat," Malon cussed, "there's only one."

"You collect them?"

"You boys and your collecting," Malon mumbled, walking forward to where a small ball of light hovered over the water in the bowl, dropping every so often to perhaps take a sip. "We're looking for one." She reached forward and gently cupped the fairy in her hands, mumbling a soft plea for help that they both knew the fairy would oblige without a single hesitation.

"Navi," Twilight whispered in reverence. Malon slowly pulled her hands to her chest, the fairie's light glowing through her fingers.

"How… how much do you know about my husband?" She asked.

Twilight swallowed. "Um, more than the others. B-but less than you, I'm sure."

She shook her head and began to head back to the house. "There's not a single thing I don't know about him. Do you know about the true nature of his adventures? Why he had been given the title of Hero of Time?"

"I, uh," Twilight stumbled, placing his hand on the back of his neck and rubbing sheepishly. "Not really. I know he… traveled a few times. Back and forth into the future and the past."

"That doesn't just happen you know," Malon said as they walked back into the house. They stopped right in front of the master bedroom and she sighed, looking older than what he had ever seen her before. "He tells me that when he was a boy, he went to obtain a sacred sword. But his body… was too young and weak to wield a sword like that. Against his will and knowledge, he was locked away in the sacred realm… for seven years, only to wake up in a body that was older than his mind. To a world torn apart by power.

"He… he tells me he does not remember those years locked away, but sometimes he wakes up screaming to let him go. Let him leave. That he's afraid and he doesn't want to be there anymore. I think… I think the memories of that place are somewhere in his head, and when he's asleep or things like this happen, they're unlocked."

Twilight nodded somberly in sympathy for Time’s circumstances. Time had endured much more than any normal Hylian could even fathom, though Malon seemed uninterested in Time’s heroics and more in tune with the man he was inside. She would know what to say to snap him out of his state of anxiety. If anyone could bring him back to reality it was her.

The door creaked loudly as Malon opened it hesitantly. She tiptoed over to the bed on which Time was lying with his back against the headboard. His head faced the window across the bed. He kept muttering unintelligibly under his breath, his eyes would dart across the room, and he would jump at the slightest noise. The hero turned his head at their approaching footsteps.

“Dear,” Malon said, causing her husband to turn towards her completely. He looked exhausted as if he’d pass out any second, but they couldn’t risk him falling into any terrible consequences of a concussion. Time smiled at her, and, for the first time since the incident, he looked as if he felt truly safe. “I brought something that might help you.” Malon released the fairy from her hands, watching it whisk away and flutter over Time’s shaking form. Almost instantly he relaxed, though slightly. His pupils contracted, the dazed look in his eyes faded and he stopped shaking. He stopped muttering to himself and looked up at Twilight who had made his way over to the bed. Time, for the briefest moment, looked as if he recognised Twilight before he shot up and scooted back on the bed, shouting, “No!” and “Get away from me!”

“Not again, NOT AGAIN!”

“Link, sweetheart, it’s just Twilight,” Malon said, reaching out and trying to placate him. “Please, try to remember. He’s not going to take you back. I-I promise,” Malon choked out. Tears pricked at her eyes as she watched her husband agonise over the cruelty that had been done to him as a child. She didn’t think she could bear to see him crumble under the weight of all his years of torture and vulnerability.

Time saw this- her tears- and stopped. He drew closer to her and placed a rough but gentle hand on her cheek.

“Twilight, will you just-” she paused and took a calm, shaky breath, looking deeply into Time’s scared eyes. “Will you please give me a moment?”

Twilight respectfully nodded and left the room. He heard voices coming from the kitchen and made his way there to find that all of the Links had returned. They all wore worried expression, presumably having all heard the news about Time’s accident.

Twilight cleared his throat and addressed the room at their expectant glances. “He’ll be alright,” he said simply.

“Alright? That’s it? No ‘he’s responding to treatment’, or ‘we know how to heal him’?” Four asked bluntly

“What kind of treatment, dumbass? We have no potions, no fairies, and no doctor,” Legend declared, flailing his arms wildly. “And how are we supposed to know how to heal him if we don’t know what’s wrong?”

“We actually had one fairy,” Twilight answered, “and we might know what’s wrong with him.”

All heads turned to Twilight at the new information. “Well? Spill it. How do we fix him,” Legend demanded, tapping his foot impatiently. He tried to look nonchalant but the look in his eyes betrayed his concern.

“He might have sustained a serious concussion, but, with the fairy, we were able to lessen the injury, but we’ll still need to take shifts waking him up. We have to make sure he doesn’t bear any permanent damage.”

The group fell silent after that, worry casting its dark cloud over them. Twilight shifted and played with his fingers, revealing his nerves.

“There’s something you’re not telling us,” WIld pointed out suddenly, catching the group’s attention. Twilight paused. Even though he knew it was necessary to tell them and they would find out even without his help, he didn’t want to spread worry over a handleable situation. Despite these thoughts, he decided he needed to tell them the truth.

“There is… one problem. I don’t think the old man remembers any of us or trusts us. And more than that it seems like he’s trying to keep himself awake because of some past trauma.”

“Well, that’s good, isn’t it,” WInd asked hopefully.

“Not exactly. Concussed patients need sleep. They just can’t be asleep for too long periods at a time.”

“That’s sure to make things difficult, but it’s just a small setback. We can still get him to sleep and help him remember us,” Sky added cheerfully.

The rest of the Links didn’t look so sure, but they didn’t argue with Sky either. His optimism was welcome in their time of panic. They were willing to give anything a shot if it meant helping their friend.

“I think it’s best if we take shifts. Too many people at once will just overwhelm him.

“If that’s the case I’ll take the first shift,” said Warrior, standing. “I mean, we were pretty close. Maybe there’s a chance he’ll remember me.”

Twilight thought about that. Of course, there was a chance, but if the old man didn’t even remember Twilight he didn’t think he’d remember Warrior, even if they were close. “Okay, go for it,” Twilight said wearily.

Warrior nodded and left for Time and Malon’s room, leaving the rest to ponder the endless possibilities that might come of this.

"Oh good, you all have a plan," Molon said, walking into the room with the other Links'. She gave them a tired yet enthusiastic smile. " That means I can trust you all to hold down the fort while I head to Castle Town."

"Alone?" Sky asked, only to hiss out in pain when Wind elbowed him in the side.

"She can handle herself," Wind warned but Malon just chuckled good-naturedly.

"I appreciate the concern, sky child, but it's just to the castle. My husband needs more medicine and the sun is still up for a little while longer. I'll be back by morning, just keep waking him up every so often to make sure he's not getting worse," she said, tugging a shawl around her shoulders.

"If you wish for one of us to accompany you," Wild offered smally, "I'd be happy to tag along."

Really, Twilight would almost like for Wild to join Malon. He looked out of his element, and he probably felt like the last one capable to help someone with memory loss and confusion. But Malon simply shook her head and walked up to him, placing a hand on his shoulder and smiling kindly at him. "Thank you for offering, but I'll be fine. My husband needs you all. You're all very important to him. Besides, I won't be alone, I'll have Epona with me."

"You're important to him too," Hyrule said quietly.

Malon just beamed at him before she walked over to the door. "I'll be back by morning. Earlier if the gates don't lock me in. Take care!"

"Good luck," seven voices all chimed in. Then, Malon was gone, and the boys were all left to their own devices.

And there weren't a whole lot of devices, so Twilight took a page from Time and Malon's book and set the boys to work. Wild returned to the kitchen, finishing up dinner while Legend and Hyrule went to clean up and prepare the guest room. To Sky, he assigned sweeping the floors and Four and Wild worked together to dust various cabinets. All the while, the door to the master bedroom remained silent, a boding forewarning of what the future had to bring.

-o-o-o-o-

His head hurt. That was the simple truth of everything. His head hurt. Enough so that he would be quite content doing nothing. He was pretty sure he was asleep, but he couldn't really recall why. If he tried to remember, then the headache would just grow and he would rather it went away.

Unfortunately for him, he had little choice in many things, one of those things was the over creeping sense of wakefulness forcing himself to become aware of his body, the sounds around him, and the gross taste lingering in his mouth. Something on his shoulder.

He would have preferred to keep his eyes shut, but they opened anyway, bringing a sharp ping of pain through his skull.

Blinking, he looked ahead of him, only to find a wooden ceiling above his head and not much else. He moaned as his headache smarted, but he quickly stilled as he realized that the pressure on his shoulder that he felt earlier was still there.

He turned his head and his eyes widened. There was a man in the room with him, leaning towards him from a wooden chair set next to the bed, arm stretched out and hand resting on him. Face screwed up with concern.

“Hey, old man, you up?”

Instantly, panic washed over him.

He jerked away from the man, slamming his hands next to his side to perhaps find a weapon. “Get away,” he snarled and the man snapped back as if stung. It was now that he realized that he didn’t know where he was. There was a small inkling at the back of his head that promised that he might have been here, but the hysteria from waking up with a stranger next to him was blurring his vision, making it even harder to concentrate when combined with his aching head.

“Time, it’s me,” the man said, his voice stern but a little rushed like he was nervous, and that certainly did nothing to make Link trust him any more than what he initially did. “Captain?”

“Where am I?” Link snarled, his voice sounding wrong in his own throat. He tried to shift up in the bed he was lying in, but his body felt wrong and the hurt in his head was traveling down his spine with the movement. A flash of familiarity ricocheted across his skull and he couldn’t help but whimper at it. He had felt like this before. Like his body was wrong and everything was different and wrong and that only made him want to panic more.

Yet everything hurt, he could hardly even think about moving without some sort of pain. He could just lie there and struggle to make sense of what’s going on, hoping his muddled mind would clear.

“You’re at your home,” the man (captain?) said slowly, making an effort to raise his hands and show he was weaponless. Not that Link believed him for a second. People can be crafty when they want to be. “What do you remember?”

“I-” Link swallowed, trying to grasp onto anything that was more clear than the rapid beating of his heart. He was so confused, and scared, and lost, and what was the last thing he remembered? He can hardly remember a single thing. Then, something calming washed over him with the soothing voice of a woman singing softly in his hair, her soft hands running through his hair.

Safe, she said, you’re safe my love.

And just like that, her face appeared in his mind’s eye, and he was overcome with comfort and safety and finally, his heart calmed just a bit. He didn’t remember these walls, but he recognizes them now.

Home, they say. Safe.

He looked at the man again, trying to see him in a different light, try to puzzle together something he’s missing most the pieces to.

A name flashed across the tip of his tongue, and he spoke it before he could question it. “You’re Link,” he said softly.

The man smiled and relaxed ever so slightly, and Link can feel the energy inside of him whither as well. He can barely keep his eyes open anymore, the adrenaline fading like a wistful song. “I’m Link too,” the man said kindly.

“Oh,” was all Link could say to that. His eyes are heavy now, almost like something unseen was wrapping itself around him, trying to drag him back into unconsciousness, and he almost fell into it if it weren’t for the hand replacing itself back onto his shoulder.

“Hey, not yet, old man,” the other Link said. “We have to keep you awake just a bit longer, just to make sure your memory loss isn’t the only damage the concussion did.”

“Concussion…?”

The man simply nodded with a gentle, reassuring smile plastered on his face. “Yeah, you wouldn’t remember that. We found you out in the barn. You were lying under a bunch of gardening equipment with blood running from a wound on your head. Malon, your wife,” Link confirmed, “patched you up with a fairy-”

“Fairy,” Time interrupted, a flash of hope sparking in his eyes. “Navi?”

The other Link’s face fell as he shook his head. “No, old man. I’m sorry.” The pair were silent for a minute. Link kept his gaze on the floor as if it was more interesting than their conversation. The man ran a hand down his face before he spoke again. “Even though your wound is healed the effects are still there. You’ll be out of commission for a couple of days so don’t even think about getting out of bed.”

Link didn’t argue. He felt positively shitty to put it lightly. His head felt like a blacksmith’s anvil… blacksmith… somehow that word felt important as if it stirred the fog enshrouding his mind, trying to reveal a secret that would rather stay hidden. He grasped at it, but it evaded him.

Then a thought occurred to him out of the blue.

Link stared blankly at the man and blinked.

“What,” the other Link asked.

“Why are you in my house?” The question came out of nowhere, unprompted by anything, and yet, this was his house? Why was this man here?

The man blanched. “I’m sorry, what?”

“This is my house, is it not? I remember… that I know who you are, but why are you here? Does my wife know? Are there others? When did you even find me?”

“We found you earlier today and, yeah, there are others Twilight was here-”

“Twilight,” Link said slowly. “Yes, he was in here.“

“He’s one of us,” the other said. He paused as if realising something. “Do you remember him?”

Link shook his head. “No, I- I thought… I didn’t trust him. I thought he was going to take me back. I sense his magic... He can’t be trusted.” Link spoke frantically, trying to get his nerves across so the other Link would listen. He couldn’t go back to that place, no, he wouldn’t!

“Time, nobody here is going to hurt you. We’re your friends.” The man said then he sighed. “Malon left to get you some medicine,” he said and Link wanted to panic, but he could tell that the other was sure of his words, that Link wouldn’t be hurt. “In the meantime, I’m just going to ask you a few questions to make sure you’re doing okay.”

“All right.” Link did not feel fine, but he guessed that the other man meant something else.

The man cleared his throat before he began. “Are you feeling particularly irritable at the moment?”

Link quirked an eyebrow. “What sort of question is that?”

“Just answer me,” the man said, eliciting a small giggle from Link.

“No, I don’t think so,” he said, coming out of his laughter. He still wasn’t sure of this man’s intentions, but a vague recollection at the back of his mind told him that he was familiar and therefore trustworthy.

“Good. Now, tell me everything you remember starting from when you met me.”

Odd question, Link thought. “Okay, I remember… I remember this-this portal of sorts.” Link tried to bring up the memories from his foggy mind and managed to recount his meeting with the man in front of him.

“We walked through another portal and,” Link gasped. He froze as the next memory came to him. “We were in the sky, on a floating island.” His eyes were wide. It was as if he was experiencing something supernatural, but, somehow, all of this felt like he was eating seconds from the same dish. “How is that possible.”

“Keep going,” the man cajoled.

“I remember we met someone, someone who always wore some sort of cape. It was mostly white- Link! His name was also Link.”

The man nodded vigorously. “Yes, yes, keep going.”

Link’s face scrunched up as he thought, but every card he drew after that was blank. “That’s it.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it. Also, why are all our names Link?”

“We share the name of the hero’s spirit. You remember that much, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Link replied slowly.

“Okay, moving on,” the other Link said, waving his hand in the air. “What are your symptoms.”

***

Twilight was biting his nails. He couldn’t shake the thought of having Time distrust him so much that he perceived him as a threat.

Twilight paced back and forth across the kitchen as Wild finished up supper. “Your fingernails are down to stubs. If you go any further you’ll bleed,” Wild cautioned, sparing a glance at his mentor from his spot at the counter.

“What if he doesn’t remember any of us Wild? What if he sees us as dangerous? We can’t defeat Dark Link without him.” Twilight felt utterly defeated, but he wouldn’t let the others know that. He needed to be strong, but it was so much more difficult being a leader than Time made it out to be. The whole facade that he put up in front of the others was starting to crumble with every minute Time was struggling to remember.

“Twi, just be patient. He’ll come to his senses soon enough. In the meantime, you just need to put a little faith in him. Help him remember.”

Twilight took a deep breath. “You’re right. This isn’t going to fix itself.”

Twilight heard footsteps descending the stairs and swiftly turned around to see Warrior making his way toward them. “I have good news and bad news. Which do you want to hear first?”

“What’s the bad news,” Wild asked instead of Twilight.

“The bad news: Time doesn’t remember you,” Warrior said, addressing Twilight.

Twilight groaned. Of course, he knew as much, but he was hoping Warrior could get a different result despite his doubts. “What’s the good news then?”

“He remembers me and Sky. Meaning I was able to get him to trust that the rest of you won’t hurt him. He’s willing to speak to you. Also, there doesn't seem to be any long-lasting side effects.”

Twilight released a breath he didn’t realise he was holding. It was a start, Time was willing to see him. If there was any chance of Twilight getting Time to recover, he’d take it. “Alright. I’ll go talk to him.” Twilight rushed forward but he was stopped as Warrior put a hand out in front of him, keeping him in place.

“Ah ah ah, not yet. Time’s resting. You should wake him up in about two hours to check if he’s okay. Do. Not. Force it. If he doesn’t remember you, it’s okay. Be patient.”

Twilight nodded sadly. He didn’t want to wait, but, for Time’s safety, he supposed he had no choice. “Thanks, Warrior.”

Warrior flashed Twilight a warm, reassuring smile before he turned to Wild. “I’m absolutely famished.”

“Well and grand. Supper is just about done. Mind setting up the table?”

“Sure.” Warrior set off to find the crockery and cutlery and Twilight stood, staring out the window, into the distance. “Something on your mind?” Wild inquired.

“What isn’t on my mind?”

“Fair. Go take a seat. I’ll save Time a plate.”

Twilight grudgingly obeyed and took a seat at the dining table. He folded his arms and rested his head on them. It had been a rough day for everyone and the fact that Time remembered Warrior and not him made him feel just a tad jealous.

The others had arrived and conversations were going over their meal, but Twilight was part of them. His focus was drawn to their most pressing issue and, as a result, he felt perpetually stressed.

Twilight didn’t notice Wild come up to him when everyone had left the table. “It’s been two hours-”

Twilight didn’t even let Wild finish his sentence before he sprang out of his chair and dashed to the stairs.

“Wait,” Wild called. “Take this.” In Wild’s hands was a plate of food. Twilight took the offered food with a knife and fork. “He might be hungry when he wakes up.”

“Thanks.” Twilight gave a wan smile and headed up to the master bedroom.

Once Twilight reached the door he knocked before he could think better of it. Twilight facepalmed. “Dammit, Link. Of course, he’s not going to answer the door.” But Twilight gave a surprised yelp when his mentor swung the door open. “Y-you’re supposed to be in bed,” Twilight chided.

Time looked, in every sense of the word, like a crook caught in the lamplight. His eyes were round and surprised and he simply stood there, staring at Twilight like he didn't quite know what to do next.

"But I suppose that's a good sign, isn't it?" Twilight asked nervously, uncomfortable under the elder man's stare. "You waking up yourself? I don't really know the fine details of concussions but-"

He's cut off as the door is suddenly slammed shut and he's left of the other side gaping, the plate of food left uselessly in his hand.

It took him a moment to find his voice. He reached up and knocked again. "Old man? It's me, Twilight, I just came to check up on you and give you some dinner!"

There's no answer and a spark of annoyance ignited in Twilight's chest.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he called, knocking again, "I'm your friend. Warrior said you remembered him and Sky; I'm their friend too!"

"Go away, please!" Time suddenly called on the other side of the door.

Twilight rolled his eyes. "Sorry, buddy, can't do that. We have to make sure you're doing alright. The sun is setting and I don't think Malon will be back until morning, so you have to work with us for a little while longer." He reached forward and placed his hand on the doorknob, feeling a little like he's about to breach his mentor's privacy, but at the same time his mentor is acting very childish and Twilight can't just leave him be.

The doorknob jiggled but did not open. Twilight scowled and huffed. "Very mature," he said, "unlock the door. Look, I know you're very hard-headed, but you have to let us help you. You have to let somebody in."

"Send someone else!" Time called.

And that blow was almost physical.

It definitely had him stumbling back like it.

Deep breaths Twi. Deep breaths. "Look! I don't know why you don't like me all of a sudden, but I mean nothing but goodwill! Plus, Warrior said that you'd be willing to talk with me?"

"... I changed my mind."

"Old man," Twilight said in exasperation. "Time. Open the door." He jiggled the doorknob. "C'mon, I'm not going to bite you or whatever. Time! Please?"

Nothing.

Twilight had to step away to restrain himself from kicking the door down.

"Fine! You win! But you will let someone in!"

He turned with a huff and walked back to the kitchen where the others were helping Wild clean up the kitchen but they all stopped when he entered the area, food going cold on the plate in his hand and face probably red.

"That didn't take long," Hyrule said slowly. "Is he alright?"

Twilight huffed and strides over to the younger hero, shoving the plate in his hands and then storming towards the front door. "He won't talk to me. It's your turn."

And then he was out the door before anyone could say a single thing. He stood in the cool evening air for a few seconds, panting like a wolfos.

If Time wanted to act like a child, then that's fine by him. He took off walking, nowhere in particular, just in a random direction. He was sure though, that if anyone looked at him through the windows of the ranch, they'd see steam coming from his ears.

-o-o-o-o-

Hyrule could only stand there a little dumbfounded by what had happened. It seemed Twilight’s behavior was a shock to the rest of them too because it took a good few beats of silence bore someone cleared their throat and attempted to make some semblance of a plan.

“Hyrule… do you want to give Time his food?”

Hyrule looked at Legend, the one who had spoken, feeling like he was a trapped animal. There’s no way Time would react friendly with Hyrule. Not if he didn’t with Twilight. Hyrule barely even knew the guy. He respected him sure but it wasn’t like they had any kind of relationship or anything.

His internal panic must have shown on his face because Sky gave a kind smile. “How about,” he said, taking the plate from Hyrule’s hands and setting it down on the kitchen table. “You invite him down to eat.”

“I don’t think he can handle a large company, Sky,” Warrior said, “he’s probably very tired still.”

“I think that for whatever reason he can’t handle our rancher’s company,” Sky retorted and everyone silenced. “And while Twilight is out blowing steam we can get him down here to talk to us as a group.”

Warrior bit his lip in thought before he sighed. “I see your logic. But we mustn't crowd him.”

“Maybe we can help him remember Twilight,” Wind offered.

“So by the time Twilight comes back, everything will be fine again,” Wild put in as well.

“Fine,” Warrior muttered, throwing his hands in the air. “Fine. But if we break him more, I won't take the fall with you all when Malon decides our lives are forfeit.”

It was meant to be a joke, but if the way the entire group stilled and became somber was an indication of anything, it certainly fell flat.

“Hyrule?” Four suddenly asked and Hyrule almost jumped a foot in the air, not expecting to be addressed.

“Yeah?”

“Are you going to get the old man?”

Heat flooded his face. “Y-yeah.”

He left the room before he could make a bigger fool of himself and practically scrambled up the stairs. He wondered what made Twilight so irritable. Did Time say something rude? And why was Time so insistent about not wanting to talk to Twilight? He wished he knew, that way he’d be more prepared with Time inevitably shut him down too.

There was no way this would work, and he chanted it in his head like a mantra until he worked up the courage to knock on the door. There was silence for a few solid seconds, and then a voice called out in a more awake tone than what he had been expecting.

“Who is it?”

Hyrule swallowed. “Um, Hyrule. Um- well, not Hyrule Hyrule. I- I’m the hero of Hyrule? So that’s what everyone calls me. It gets confusing sometimes and-”

The door was suddenly opened and he shut his jaw with a click.

Time stood there on the other side of the doorway, his single eye critically narrowed, almost like he was looking into Hyrule’s very soul. Hyrule squirmed under the gaze, but whatever Time was looking for seemed to be found because he stepped slowly out of the way to invite Hyrule in. Hyrule swallowed and stepped back. “Actually, we were wondering if you felt well enough to join us downstairs for some dinner?”

Time stilled and then he sighed. “I’m… not sure that is a good idea.”

“Twilight isn’t there,” Hyrule rushed out and Time’s eyebrows rose in slight surprise. “He went out. For a run or something, I think. The other’s all want to talk to you.”

Time remained silent for a second before he released a breath. “Did I hurt his feelings?”

“Who? Twilight?”

Time nodded and Hyrule swallowed. “Oh. Um. He’ll be fine.”

“I… I don’t recognize anyone, but each of you gives me a… sense of peace and safety. But Twilight… I don’t know why but I can’t bring myself to open up to him. I know I care about him, I can feel it in my bones that I care for each of you, but I… I can’t talk to him right now. I just hope I didn’t hurt his feelings.”

“I… yeah, he’ll get over it,” Hyrule repeated because he didn’t quite know what else to say. “He’s… strong. And whatever is off about him that you don’t like I’m sure will all make sense when you’re better.”

“When I’m better.”

“Yeah… so do you want to come down and eat or should I bring food up-”

“I’ll… come down. I feel trapped in this room, and some kind faces I think will help me feel better.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Hyrule stood there awkwardly as Time practically shuffled out of the doorway, his eyebrows drawn together with a tightness that could only be described as pain. His head must still be bothering him. Hyrule swallowed and took a step forward, ducking under one of his arms and grabbing onto Time’s side. Time made a thankful hum and wrapped his arm around Hyrule’s shoulders.

“What is for dinner?” Time asked as Hyrule helped him down the first step. Hyrule grunted with his weight but was thankfully able to keep his balance for a few more steps.

“Wild made Hearty Salmon Meuniere. It’s really good,” Hyrule grunted.

They finally made it down onto the first floor and Hyrule almost bent over gasping, but he was stopped when Time squeezed his shoulder.

“I don’t remember who you are,” Time mumbled, “but I have the sense that you’ve been through much. You are incredibly brave, little one.”

Hyrule swallowed, not really prepared for a revelation like that. “Everyone here is brave. You’ll see that I’m at the bottom of the ladder. It’s you who everyone looks up to. Everyone is taking this memory loss hard. Especially Twilight. I… I appreciate it though.”

“If the me without memories can tell how courageous you are, I’m sure the me with memories thinks even higher of you.”

Hyrule almost choked on his spit as his ears began to feel like they were on fire.

“L-lets go. I’m sure the others all want to see you.”

-o-o-o-o-

The other’s all consisted of seven young men who for the life of him Link… or Time could not remember. He knew the faces. After they tell him their names he’s almost hitting his head against the wall in anger because how could he have possibly forgotten these young men?

Wind was a charming lad, and he gave Time the sense or recklessness and adventure. Curiosity. He smiled the widest when Time entered the room and talked the most like it wasn’t awkward at all. Time appreciated his energy. His kindness. It reminded him almost of himself before… before everything. Except, this young man somehow managed to keep that innocent part of him alive after his adventure.

Legend was much on the opposite side of the scale. He can see the sadness in his eyes, but he can also see a spark of flame. The need for adventure still calls him, even though Time is quite confident that Legend has been through more than what he says. There had been many obstacles in his way, and he lost many parts of himself, but he still retains a kindness and carefulness that often goes unnoticed by his prickly exterior. He says things as they are, and Time can’t help but feel a large deal of respect towards the younger man.

Sky was… well, Sky was himself. Time’s impressions of him were that he was kind and positive and perhaps the happiest of the group. But he also has a righteous aura about him that Time isn’t particularly fond of. The sword on his back is confirmation of that. Yet, Time also knows that he would trust his life in Sky’s hands.

Four was as blunt as a tree branch being used for swordplay. He didn’t dance around his words, and when Time asked for his story, he flatly said that Time had no business knowing. Time can respect that. Clearly, whatever relationship he had with Four was purely made out of trust. Neither knew that much about each other, but it didn’t matter. The boy had a quick mind and sharp tongue, and while he kept his secrets to himself, he still didn’t mind very much being around the others.

Warrior, Time can’t help but feel a special bond with him. Besides himself, Warrior was clearly the eldest of the group. Time knew that this man has suffered much, and has seen much more, and yet he still went out of his way to be honorable. To be kind.

Wild was a special soul. Time instantly felt the need to pay special attention to how he acted. Searching for little signs that he was uncomfortable or happy or content. Time didn’t think Wild has had that much time to be himself. In fact, it almost felt like Wild was constantly watching himself to live up to someone else. Yet, despite all of that, Time could tell his smiles were genuine, his enthusiasm heartfelt.

And of course, there was Hyrule. Insecure to a fault, yet his heart is bigger than that. He has a lot of heart. He might say he’s not that brave, but Time knew better. He knew that Hyrule has perhaps seen just as much hell as Time himself has.

The boys were all unique. Loud. Different. And even though the headache in his skull pulsed and his eyes felt heavier and heavier the night wore on, he wanted nothing more than to continue being in their company.

They told him stories. Tried their best to help him remember some of them. He couldn’t recall them all, like the one about how Legend apparently single-handedly fought off a hoard of moblins. He suspected that was just an attempt to butter himself up and trick Time’s memory. But the story Warrior told of the great Goron spice incident came almost immediately back to him with just a small bit of fuzz around the details. Wild looked scandalized at the mention of that story, seeing as it involved a piece of women’s clothing being found in his bad, but when Time started laughing, saying that he remembered that, all of the boys became eager to tell more silly stories about the rest of them.

Wild pulled out his strange slate and began a slide show of pictures, and quite some time passed and he hardly even felt his headache anymore.

Then, the slideshow stopped on a picture of a young man with dirty hair and markings on his forehead.

The mood instantly sunk, and Time couldn’t help but feel responsible for it.

“He looks up to you a lot,” Four mumbled, “you’re… almost like a dad to him.”

And Time knew this. He knew this the moment he saw the picture down on the slate of that young man. Twilight… feels almost like a son to him too.

Now that some time has passed with the others, he can almost see how silly he was. Sure, he was out of it, memories shattered in his head like a mirror, and Twilight simply had the misfortune of being the one to find him. The misfortune of having dark magic within him that Time didn’t recognize. How foolish of him to make that mistake. How foolish of him to judge Twilight off of that simple misunderstanding.

Almost like a sign from the goddesses, Twilight chose that time to walk in the front door. His skin around his eyes, cheeks, and ears were red from perhaps the cold, perhaps something else. He stopped in his tracks as everyone turned to look at him but his eyes instantly locked with Time.

There was something desperate in them, so instead of saying anything, Time smiled and scooted a little on the chair he was sitting on, making room for one more to join them at the kitchen table. Twilight smiled like the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders and quickly grabbed a chair and made his spot next to Time like it was the most natural thing in the entire world to do.

Laughter filled the rest of the night, and as they told yet another story Time hardly even noticed his head drooping with tiredness until an arm wound itself around his middle and hefted him upward. He did his best to cooperate with his feet, but it clearly wasn’t much help. He was eventually laid down on a soft sofa, a throw placed over his body, and before the calming embrace of sleep could take him he looked at the boy above him. How foolish of himself indeed to think this boy could ever hurt a fly.

-o-o-o-o-

Malon returned in the morning, a stash of red potions in her hands and an irritating story to tell about her next-door neighbors in the castle town inn. Though, her irritation quickly faded when she saw her husband happily resting on the downstairs sofa with a smile on his face. The boys tell her that they helped him remember most everything the night before and gave him much-needed company. When she was able to give him a red potion, the most it did was un-fog some of the trickier bits of his memory and rid him of his headache.

She didn’t complain when he pulled her close, dragging her into a love-filled kiss.

Wind made a gagging sound but Malon didn’t mind a single bit. Clearly, there was no need to worry. Her boy’s always pull through, one way or another.

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harley-sunday · 4 years

Text

A Good Man Goes to War [01]

Summary: Starts right after Civil War. Steve Rogers is done being Captain America and quite happy living a quiet life in a safe house somewhere in Canada. Until Thanos goes after the Infinity Stones. What happens when a good man goes to war?

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC (f) but could be read as reader insert.

Warnings: Minor language.

Word count: 4.5k-ish

Entry for @browngirlmagic‘s writing challenge. My prompt was “Demons run when a good man goes to war.”

AN: By now you all know I need validation, hence the quick update. Like I said before, this is unlike anything I’ve ever written before, so please let me know what you think. It’s kind of scary to put this out there ♥

I don’t do taglists, but if you follow Harley Sunday x Steve Rogers you should see any update I post.

Masterlist

He sleeps for most of the first couple of days he’s there, as if his body and mind finally allow him to catch up on all those hours of sleep he’s missed over the years. When he is awake he always finds a fresh glass of water and a plate of sandwiches on his bedside table, which he is grateful for because even though he is still so tired, he is also quite hungry. As he eats, he listens for her from his bedroom, more often than not hearing her quietly humming along to whatever song is playing on the sound system while she busies herself downstairs.

It is on day five that he finally wakes up feeling well rested, but when he sees himself in the mirror in the bathroom they share he has to do a double take because his beard has taken over half his face and he almost doesn’t recognize himself. Still, he keeps it, only trimming the edges. The shower is nice and hot and he comes out of it feeling ten times better. He puts on a pair of dark blue jeans and pairs it with a flannel button down shirt that seems appropriate in this setting.

He finds her in the kitchen, kneading some dough that he hopes will get turned into more of that fabulous homemade bread. “Hey,”

“Well, hello Sleeping Beauty,” she says from over her shoulder, the corners of her eyes wrinkling as she smiles.

“Yeah,” he runs a hand through his hair, letting it rest at the base of his neck, “sorry about that.”

She tuts, shaking her head, “Please. After what you’ve been through I didn’t expect you back in the land of the living for at least another day or two.”

“So you know then?”

“It was in the file Nick sent over after he made the call,” she replies almost apologetically. Then, as though she wants to change the subject, “There’s fresh coffee in the pot.”

“You’re the best,” he says with a grin, realizing he actually means it. He wraps both his hand around the mug after he’s poured the coffee, leaning against the counter to her right, watching her as she kneads, and kneads, and kneads. She makes it looks effortless, but he’s sure he’d be able to mess it up if he ever gave it a try. His eyes travel across the kitchen and the living room and he finds more and more evidence of ultra modern technology he hadn’t seen when he first got here. He figures that even though it might look like a simple log cabin from the outside, it is probably decked out with the latest technology on the inside, which, no doubt, is a requirement for a safe house.

“So, I assume you have some questions?” She gives the dough a final fold before she picks it up and carefully drops it into a bread basket. She washes her hands and dries them off on the towel hanging over her shoulder before she helps herself to a cup of coffee and gestures towards the living room, “Let’s sit down.”

He finds himself pulling out a chair at the dining table, sitting opposite of her, realizing then that yes, he actually does have some questions. Which is strange because he always thought it would be the other way around. But she mentioned a file from Nick earlier, and if one thing, those always tend to be very detailed. He allows himself to really look at her then, instead of those quick glances he kept stealing on the way from the airport. She has kind face, there’s no doubt about it, but there’s also something else there, something he recognizes as sadness and he wonders what her story is. That’s not for now though, he decides.

“Don’t be shy,” she challenges him from across the table, a mischievous grin playing around on her lips.

“Ok,” he starts, “This is your cabin, right?”

“Yes,”

“Right,” he replies. “Please don’t be offended, but-”

“You want to know if I’m going to be here all the time or if I’m actually going to leave you alone at some point?”

“Well,” he sighs then because she seems to have read his mind. “Yeah.”

She laughs, “I’m afraid you’re stuck with me.” She looks around the room, “The cabin and I, we’re kind of a package deal.”

“That’s fine,” he’s quick to reassure her. “I’ve been on my own long enough, I quite like having someone around.”

“Good,” she says before she fishes a piece of paper from the pocket of her apron and slides it towards him. “Chores are another part of the deal I’m afraid-”

“Seems fair,” he quickly assures her.

“It’s just,” she starts, smiling, “you could probably chop more firewood in an hour than I could in a day so it would just be a waste of resources if I didn’t let you do that.” Her finger taps the second line then, “I will make breakfast, lunch, and dinner, but in return you’re in charge of the dishes and taking out the garbage.”

He smiles, “No problem.”

“The last one isn’t really essential,” she clears her throat, “but uh, I’ve already killed so many of them that I’m now putting each and every one that is still here into your care.”

“How?”

“I don’t know,” she sounds defeated, “I’m just not good at keeping things alive, ok?” She must realize what she’s just said then, because she buries her face in her hands, “Oh God, that came out wrong, because I’m sure I’ll be able to keep you alive.”

“You’d be surprised,” he mutters quitely.

She hasn’t heard because she shakes her head and continues, “It’s just plants I have a problem with.”

He puts one of his hands over hers, giving it a reassuring squeeze, “It’ll be fine.”

They settle into an easy rhythm after that, where he’s the one who wakes up early and makes sure to get the coffee going before she joins him downstairs about an hour later. Breakfast then, after which she’s in the kitchen to either make bread, pickle vegetables, or make jam from a variety of berries she finds somewhere deep in the forest, only stopping to make them lunch. He’s outside most of the mornings, chopping firewood, making sure the wood’s properly stacked alongside the cabin, and that there’s enough to last them through most of the winter. He usually tends to her vegetable garden after lunch, even though surprisingly enough she’s been able to keep most of her crops alive so far.

They go into town about once a week, on Wednesdays, when there’s a farmer’s market, a trip that takes them most of the day and so they treat themselves to lunch at the Thirsty Moose bar, where he takes a special liking to their Philly Cheese Steak Poutine. She tells him she always treats herself to fresh flowers when she’s at the market and so every Wednesday night there’s a new arrangement adorning the dining table. He’s decided he likes it.

The evenings are spent on the porch, catching the last rays of sunshine after dinner, quietly talking about anything and everything, but nothing too serious yet. They are getting to know each other more day by day and he quite likes that there’s still somewhat of a mystery about her. When it gets too cold they head inside, where she makes them both a hot chocolate that they finish on the couch. He almost always goes to bed first, while she stays up late, reading books about whatever topic holds her interest at that moment. He has seen her scribble little notes in the margins of the pages, and he doesn’t know why, but it makes him like her even more.

She surprises him with a variety of cupcakes on his birthday, which happens to be exactly two weeks after he’s arrived here. There’s also a gift, and he finds himself a little speechless when he unwraps a beautiful handmade axe, which is amazingly balanced. She tells him he’s been using her lightweight axe, and that this seems to fit him much better. He agrees wholeheartedly.

She’s put a birthday candle into the strawberry cupcake, telling him he has to make a wish, even though he argues he’s technically ninety-eight and might be too much of a grown up for that. She giggles then, tells him he looks pretty darn good for his age, before she counters that he’s been put on ice for 66 years and so she thinks they’re actually only celebrating his thirty-second birthday. He can’t really argue with that logic and so he blows out the candle in one go.

She tries to get him to tell her his wish, but he warns her not to push him or he’ll give up on the plants and at least that gets her to back off a little.

The wish he’s made on his birthday lasts exactly two months.

And what a great two months they have been, he reminisces. Summers here are mild, she told him, and she wasn’t wrong. Still, being this far north meant they got plenty of sunshine and the forest offered them an abundance of edible plants and berries, which they collected on what quickly became their regular afternoon walks. He feels comfortable around her, things are easy between them, and so he finds himself opening up to her more and more.

He tells her about his upbringing in Brooklyn, about Bucky, the war, and how lost he felt without his best friend, both the first and second time he thought he had lost him. He admits easily that it took him a long time to somewhat adjust to this modern society he woke up to after being defrosted, and that he’s still not sure he’ll ever really be a part of it. There’s a lump in his throat when he tells her about what happened to Bucky after he fell from the train, and how he ended up fighting his best friend several times before they were able to help him.

He’s still angry when he talks about the Accords and what happened after, even though he’s quick to reassure her he’s happy that it made him end up here. More about Bucky then, how this time he got to fight alongside his best friend and how Bucky is now trying to heal with the help of T’Challa and his people in Wakanda. He tries to explain Wakanda to her, but knows he’ll never be able to do it justice and so he promises to take her there some day.

She just lets him talk, only asking questions when something is unclear to her, and God, it feels good to finally tell someone the whole story, even though he’s sure she already knew most of it from the file Nick Fury sent over. Still, she listens and he talks, and he thinks that maybe his birthday wish is coming true.

But then, somewhere at the end of summer, she calls out for him, “Steve?”

He hears it in her voice, even though he can’t quite explain what it is, only that it’s not good. He stacks the two pieces of firewood he’s holding and rushes inside, finding her in the kitchen, looking upset.

She nods towards the living room, “There’s someone here to see you.”

His heart’s in his throat then, because how did they find him? Does this mean he’s compromised? Should he just make a run for it? No, he thinks, he can’t just leave her here. He turns around, a sigh of relief escaping him when he sees the familiar redhead sitting on the couch.

“Hey, stranger,” she says with a smile.

“Natasha.” He wants to be happy to see her again, really he does, but he knows she’s not just here on a social call and so he asks, “Sam?”

“He’s outside,” she replies with a nod towards the front porch.

“You can come in,” he says, knowing the comms unit she’s wearing will pick up his voice, and sure enough, Sam comes bursting through the door seconds later.

“Steve, man it is good to see you!”

He returns the hug, because yes, it is good to see his friends again even though he’s sure what will follow next will make him wish they never showed up. He tells them to take a seat on the front porch, says he will join them in a minute.

Natasha glances over his shoulder with a knowing look, then throws him a wink before she gently pushes Sam outside.

He turns around, “I’m sorry, I had no idea-”

“I know,” she smiles. She holds up the phone he knows only Nick Fury has the number of, “The message came just as they pulled up. I would have told you earlier, but I didn’t-”

“Hey, no,” he takes a few quick steps towards her, hands on her arms. “I’ll go find out what they want ok?”

She nods, biting her lip because he’s sure she knows as well as he does it means he’ll have to leave soon. “I’ll,” her voice catches in her throat, “I’ll get you some coffee.”

“Thank you.” He lets go of her, but then something makes him go back and kiss the top of her head, “It’ll be alright.”

“Yeah.”

He joins Natasha and Sam outside then, listens to what they’ve been up to these past weeks, not surprised to learn they’ve gone rogue and are now doing missions on their own. He asks how they found him, but he doesn’t get a straight answer out of either of them, even though he knows they must have contacted Nick. He’s the only one who knows where he is.

“Cap,” Sam starts once there are three steaming mugs of coffee in front of them. “We need you, man.” He looks at Natasha, but she just nods, and so he continues, “These missions, well, it’s not like they’re super dangerous, but there’s only so much we can do when it’s just the two of us.”

“We’re doing Nick Fury’s dirty work,” Natasha explains, “but it’s work that needs to be done.” And, because she knows him and knows what he’s about to ask next, “It’s not illegal per se, but yes, we are trespassing and taking things that technically don’t belong to us.”

He nods, leaning back in his chair.

“Look, Steve,” Natasha puts a hand on his arm, making him look at her, “we wouldn’t be here if it was absolutely necessary.” She explains then, how there are five missions in total, spanning a little over a year, that he’d be gone no more than six weeks at a time, that she and Sam will do all the preparations, that he just has to show up and help them complete the mission.

“I don’t know.” He sighs, casting a glance over his shoulder, finding her in the kitchen, where she’s trying to knead some bread but he can tell her heart’s not in it. They’ll have to feed it to the birds, he thinks wryly. He looks back at Sam and Natasha, knows they need him too if not more, knows he’ll never be able to forgive himself if something happens to them because he’d rather stay here and ignore the outside world. “I’ll do it,” he says, “but not as Captain America.”

Natasha nods, “That seems fair.”

“So you’re really going rogue with us then?” Sams asks with a grin. “Tell me, man, what should we call you now that you’re not carrying the shield?”

He thinks about that for a while, but then, because it seems fitting, “Nomad.”

He can tell she’s not happy about it, even though she never says anything. If anything she just becomes more distant, the chatty nights on the porch now spend indoors, with her reading, and reading, and reading, and him waiting until Natasha sends him the mission details on the secure phone she handed him after their visit. It hurts, but he gets why she feels this way, she was meant to keep him safe, after all. He’s tried to explain once, why he choose to go, but she just shook her head and he stopped talking.

When they go into town together that Wednesday he lets her do the grocery shopping, while he meets up with the guy he’s been in contact with about the bike he has for sale. It’s a Harley Davidson WLA ‘Liberator’ and it reminds him of the bike he used to drive when he was in Europe. After taking it for a test drive and agreeing on the price he’s a little hesitant to show her his purchase, but she just shrugs and tells him it’s a nice looking bike. Small victories, he supposes.

The message comes a week later, just as he’s done with the dishes for the day, giving him the coordinates to the pickup point where they’ll pick him up with the Quinjet the next morning. His GPS tells him it’s a three hour drive from here and so he’ll have to get up early, meaning he only has one night with her before he has to leave. He tells her about the mission, that this is their last night together for a while and to his surprise she asks if he wants to have a hot chocolate on the porch.

“I’d love to,” he replies, and it feels like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders. It’s already getting dark outside and so he busies himself turning on the two gas lanterns on either end of the porch before lightning the candles on top of the table.

She joins him not much later, handing him a big mug topped with a generous amount of whipped cream, “Here you go.”

“Thank you,”

“Listen, I uh,” she sits down on one of the Adirondack chairs and motions for him to do the same. “I’m sorry, about well,” she raises her eyebrows, “this week, I suppose.”

“Honestly, don’t-”

“No,” she shakes her head, “I wasn’t being fair. You don’t have to answer to me about well, anything you do, really.”

“Except the plants,” he says, trying to let her know it’s ok. That he understands.

“Except the plants,” she echoes, smiling.

“I left the instructions on the fridge, ok?”

She nods, “I will follow them to a T.” She looks at him then, “Just be careful, ok? The plants and I’d like to see you back here in one piece.”

“Will do,”

“Promise me.” Her voice catches in her throat somewhere and she tries to smile but he can tell she’s fighting back tears.

He reaches for her from across the table, his hand on hers as he gives it a little squeeze, “I promise.”

He’s missed her, he realizes now that he’s finally on his way back to her.

He’s been gone for almost four weeks, the mission somewhere in South America, where the weather was much more forgiving than what he’s dealing with now. The cold wind bites through his gloves and jacket, like little needles pricking in his skin. The signs along the road tell him he’s almost there and so he opens up the throttle, wanting nothing more than to see her again as soon as possible.

She must have heard his bike coming up the road because she’s waiting for him on the porch, smiling when she sees him pulls up.

He parks the bike at an impossible angle, right in front of the steps leading up to the cabin, but he doesn’t care, because it only means he can get to her quicker. He takes his helmet off as he steps off the bike and hangs it on the handle bars, before he walks up to her and wraps her in his arms, “Hi.”

“Hi,” she says from somewhere against his chest, her arms having found their way around him. “I’ve missed you.”

He lets go of her ever so slightly, pressing a kiss to her forehead, “I’ve missed you too.”

She looks up at him, “Are you ok?”

“Yes,” he nods, “I am now.”

“Come on,” she lets go of him and takes one of his hands in hers, “let’s get you inside.” She leads him to the kitchen, where she examens him carefully, her brows furrowed when she sees he’s got several cuts on his face.

“It’s nothing,” he assures her, but then her fingers ghost over the cut above his brow and he winces, because he took a pretty hard blow there just this morning, the skin still tender.

She tuts, “Go take a shower. I’ll take care of that once you’re done.”

“It’ll be healed by tomorrow,” he counters. “The serum, remember?”

“Yeah, well, humor me.” She crosses her arms in front of her chest then, “Upstairs. Shower. Now.”

He does as he’s told, the warm water actually making him feel a bit more human. He puts on a pair of sweatpants she bought for him on one of their trips into town, claiming you can’t really relax in a pair of jeans when he told her he didn’t have any other pants. He grabs a t-shirt from out of his closet, not bothering to put it on because he knows she’ll want to see if there are any other cuts and bruises that need her attention.

“Jesus Christ,” she mutters quietly when he makes his way down the stairs and into the kitchen. She lets her eyes travel across his chest before she looks up at him, “Are you even real or?”

He chuckles and shrugs, sitting down on one of the kitchen chairs.

Standing in front of him she hands him the first aid kit, her fingers once again examining his skin, her eyes widening in surprise when she sees most of the cuts are starting to heal already. “You really weren’t kidding,” she whispers.

His eyes find hers and he shakes his head, “Nope.”

Something that looks like relief flashes across her eyes then, but she hides it by telling him to put his shirt on and handing him a cup of hot chocolate.

Natasha already warned him that the next mission would start soon, but he never thought he’d only get four days of rest before they’d ask him to head out again. The mission brief suggests a short trip, two weeks tops, but he knows from experience that’s way too optimistic. At least the pickup point is closer this time, only a two-hour drive from the cabin and they won’t pick him up until late tomorrow afternoon so at least he still gets to spend some time with her. And the plants that have been in her care the past four weeks.

“You know what?” He can’t help but smile when he examines her work, “I’m not mad about this.”

“No?”

“No,” he shakes his head, “you really did a great job.”

“So they’re fine?”

“More than, I’d say.” He turns towards her, a little thrown of by the mischief in her eyes. “What?”

“Even that one?” She points to one of the succulents in the windowsill, and he can tell she’s trying to keep a straight face.

He looks closer and laughs then, “It got smaller.”

She giggles, “It got replaced.” She throws her hands up in defense then, “I don’t know what happened, one day he was fine and the next-” she makes a face, “-dead.”

“Uhu,”

“Steve, I promise, I did everything you told me to do.”

He throws an arm around her shoulder then, pulling her close, “You can’t keep buying new plants every time one dies.”

She scoffs, “I’ve been doing it for years.”

He was right about the second mission, they were gone a little over six weeks and by the time he gets back the forest is covered in a thin layer of snow and so he has to park his bike on the side of the house, next to where’s he stacked to firewood. He finds her on the porch, like the last time, and she throws her arms around him as he pulls her into a hug.

“I thought you were never coming back,” she says quietly.

“I know,”

“Let’s go inside,”

He takes her outstretched hand and follows her into the cabin, the warm glow of the fireplace welcoming him back. Like last time, she examines him closely, but he came out pretty unscatched and so she’s quick to tell him to go take a shower. She asks if he is hungry when he’s halfway up the stairs, and when he tells her he is, she sets out to make him a quick dinner of some leftover she finds in the fridge.

She allows him to eat his dinner on the couch, which she’s never done before, but she must see how tired he is. This mission was a waiting game more than anything else, long days spent trying to gather as much intell as possible before moving in to secure what they came for.

“I really missed you,” she says suddenly, and when he looks at her he finds her eyes a little glossed over. “I never felt lonely here before, but this time, I don’t know,” she tries to smile, and he can tell she’s trying not to make too much of a big deal out of it.

He puts his plate down on the coffee table and motions for her to come closer, wrapping his arm around her once she’s snuggled up to him, “I really missed you too.”

#Steve Rogers x reader #Steve Rogers fanfic #ayesha1kwritingchallenge #Harley Sunday x Steve Rogers #Captain America

29 notes · View notes

jinned · 4 years

Text

proditione | jimin + namjoon | m

snippet: jimin was eager to become the apprentice to a famous warlock. but he meets someone and now has a choice to make...

pairing: Namjoon x jimin ft. warlock seokjin

genre: angst, smut

au: demon Namjoon, human jimin,

rating: explicit

word count: 9.1k

warnings: !!major character death!!, demon summoning, mentions of smoke, jimin is really naïve, deception, use of the latin language, use of magic, very dark themes- please read at your own discretion. it’s humorous and playful at first but gets dark, detailed descriptions of character death

sexual warnings: voyerism, male masturbation, dirty talk, they don’t actually touch each other, dom/sub dynamics, precum licking? (idk how to word it. jimin licks off his own precum), praise kink, edging, orgasm denial, commands,

a/n: hey everyone! just wanted to pop in and say that if you’ve read mea culpa, some of the stuff in this story might seem very familiar....there’s some easter eggs relating both stories to one another :)

a/n 2: i’m lowkey really nervous about posting this. member x member work is out of my comfort zone so I hope it’s alright! im also nervous about posting something with character death in it. I honestly write a lot of angst that i’m afraid to post because of how people will perceive it. this is my own way of coping. if any of the warnings make you uncomfortable please do not read! i will not be offended if you choose to not read this fic but read my other works. with that being said, to those who do read, I hope you enjoy it! let me know what you think!

Jimin had only arrived in the foreign town of Daemur the night before with a spare change of clothes and his head filled with hope. He had wasted no time in renting a home in the heart of the town, unsure of where the warlock he was searching for might possibly reside. At least by being in the middle of the town, Jimin was close no matter what direction the magical being lived.

Barely able to sleep, Jimin tossed and turned in his new bed, watching as the sun rose quickly into the new day. Jimin put on his trousers and shirt, the extra one he had carried with him, and sat back down on his bed, grabbing his notebook off the end table. Gingerly leafing through his notebook, he traced careful fingers over his life’s work, his chest filling with confidence with each intake of breath.

Today was the day.

He stood up proudly, tucking his notebook under the crook of his arm and left the house.

Even though the sun had just greeted the earth, people were already bustling about the streets. Women and children carried woven baskets in their arms, fruits and vegetables pooling out of the tops. Men carried about wood, tools, and other heavy objects such as hay bales and buckets of water.

Everyone appeared happy, at peace. Like nothing could disturb their day.

Jimin’s heart swelled as he walked into the streets, people passing by him. Their chatter of crops and gossip made Jimin feel right at home. Although his home town wasn’t nearly this small, he was glad to be surrounded by lively people after a long journey alone.

As he walked further down the road, wooden carts lined the sides of the street in front of their perspective houses. Merchants shouted deals of trades for their goods. Some offered services such as home repairs and chore duties in exchange for food items. Jimin couldn’t help but laugh when he heard one man shout about trading fruit for chairs. What an odd trade!

The people of Daemur seemed simple, Jimin decided. They dressed in airy clothing, bonnets and caps strapped tightly to their heads to block them from the heating rays of the sun above. Jimin wondered if he had anything worth trading to get a cap of his own. He particularly liked one gentleman’s brown and white hide cap with a crow feather tucked proudly on the side. Unfortunately, he only brought the bare necessities in his travels. Perhaps he could learn how to make his own, or come forth with something worth trading...such as magical favors. The thought alone made Jimin straighten his back, his walk prouder and more determined.

Jimin was just about to start inquiring about the warlock that lived in town when he spotted a man who towered higher above the regular person. His black wavy hair flowed gently in the breeze, his broad shoulders holding a beautiful robe unlike any article of clothing Jimin had ever seen. The colors appeared, at least from that distance, to have been splashed on, something no seamstress could ever dream of stitching. Arrays of blues and oranges blended together into breathtaking swirls that could make someone dizzy. As Jimin continued to observe this man, he noticed that those around him couldn’t help but stare as well. Women fanned themselves and whispered together and giggled as they walked past. Men also looked fondly upon the tall creature before scowling as they walked away.

Then suddenly, this man with the beautiful robe held out a piece of fruit in his hand from one of the merchant carts. His other hand spun around it without touching it. Within the blink of an eye, the fruit was there no longer. In the man’s hand now was a small brown feathered chicken. The black haired man smiled as he handed it over to the merchant who made a sweeping motion with his hand over the fruits before him, appearing to offer him whatever selection he may desire.

It was him. It had to be.

“You! Warlock!” Jimin pointed and yelled, pausing before chasing after the tall figure walking through the markets. He stopped at a cart filled with empty glass bottles, each one sculpted into unique shapes with the bottoms greatly rounded with skinny tops to those with twisted necks and fancy loops.

The warlock’s shoulders rose and fell, taking in a deep breath before he leaned forward to rub his fist deeply into his eyes as he looked over the bottles. Jimin excitedly tapped on the warlock’s back, practically jumping up and down and shivering with excitement.

“I require your assistance.” Jimin beamed brightly, his cheeks beginning to sore. For a moment, he thought the creature hadn’t heard him, so he just kept tapping on his back. But then the warlock finally turned to face Jimin with a groan.

“Look, human, I know it might be confusing but I am not at this cart to sell my services. I’m here to trade products just like everybody else. Now, I appreciate the sentiment and on any other day I would have autographed whatever you pleased but-” he sighed and placed his hands on his hips, looking out past Jimin before looking back into the eager human’s eyes. “-I’m just really not in the mood, okay? Now, unless you offer therapy services I’d really suggest you scurry along and bug some other creature before you’re stuck listening to my life’s tragedy.” The warlock threw his hands up dramatically in the air, sighing loudly before turning his back to Jimin and moving one cart over and picked up a pear. “Oh sweet, tender fruit, perhaps you could hear out my sorrows.”

Jimin stared at the warlock and slowly blinked. He swallowed hard, unsure of how to proceed. So, he did the only thing he could think to do: smile and pretend he didn’t hear a thing.

“‘Kay...anyways, so I traveled from a town pretty far away from here. Wequsun. Not sure if you’ve heard of it or not. Anyways. My parents told me all these stories about a warlock like you who lived in the town of Daemur, this one, a legend really, who could perform these wondrous miracles! I’ve been obsessed ever since and I traveled all this way to request to be taken in as your apprentice! I’ve been studying magic my whole life and I’m pretty well informed if I do say so myself! I just haven’t gotten the hang of the actual...well...magic performing part...really I just get puffs of smoke. Maybe I’m just trying the wrong spells but then again I don’t know the difference between the right and wrong types of spells so to say and I just figured the best way to get past that blockage was to seek you out and demand you become my teacher! So, here I am! I have this notebook, you see, it’s full of all the magic I’ve studied and-”

“Oh my god please silence yourself.” The warlock groaned and snapped his fingers quickly. Jimin continued to move his mouth but no words came forth. Confused and slightly panicked, Jimin reached for his throat and tried to yell. Nothing but air escaped. The warlock shook his head quickly back and forth, as if shaking off Jimin’s energy from his body.

“This is insane,” bewilderment was thick in the warlock’s tone. “It’s like I can’t go outside anymore without someone demanding to learn magic! Look, human-” Pointing a finger at Jimin, the warlock furrowed his brows and continued to talk in a staccato like manor. “There. is. a. reason. why. only. warlocks. can. do. magic. Ever think of that? I don’t have time to take you under my wing and become best pals!” He hugged his shoulders mockingly and playfully shook himself from side to side. His smile dropped and the seriousness came back. “You ever stop to think ‘hmm? This warlock might have other things going on? Maybe he would enjoy me treating him to a nice hot meal before bombarding him with crazy demands?’ Newsflash, your life might suck but so does mine and you don’t see me running up to humans and demanding they teach me how to be one, now do you?” The warlock thrusted his eyebrows forward and waited for Jimin’s response.

Jimin swallowed hard and tried to respond, but his voice was still vacant from his throat.

“Oh, right,” the warlock laughed. “How rude of me to demand a response when I’ve captured your voice.” He snapped his fingers and Jimin coughed harshly, doubling over to relieve his chest from what felt like a giant rock making its way up his throat.

“You,” Jimin gasped, “are definitely not what I was expecting.”

“Thank you,” the warlock sighed wistfully. “I do pride myself on originality.”

People bustled past the two as Jimin straightened himself, meeting the warlock’s gaze.

“I will do anything to prove myself worthy to be your apprentice. Please. Consider me.”

The warlock’s lips formed a white line, his cheeks puffed out slightly. He closed his eyes for a few seconds and Jimin was afraid the warlock might take his voice for good this time.

“Summon a demon then we’ll talk.”

“What?” Jimin’s eyes widened and the floor beneath him suddenly felt uneven.

“If you’ve been studying magic for as long as you’ve said, then I assume you’ll have a summoning spell in that...encyclopedia of yours.” The warlock’s eyes darted to the notebook tucked under Jimin’s arm.

“Oh! Yes! I have one!” Jimin proudly brought forth his notebook to present it, but the warlock quickly brushed it aside.

“No need to look it over. If I’m going to take on an apprentice then I must trust them faithfully. Better hope your spell is correct.” The warlock leaned forward and booped Jimin’s nose with one finger.

Turning the other direction and walking away quickly, the warlock tossed his pear into the air. Right as the pear was about to hit the top of his head, it stopped midair, floating above the warlock. Jimin’s mouth dropped open in awe as he watched the warlock flit around the crowd of people, the pear bobbing above him as he went on ignoring the several persons who approached him with hopeful requests.

“How will I find you?” Jimin shouted after him.

“You’ll figure it out!” The warlock called back and waved his hand, his back still facing Jimin. “Oh! And don’t forget the tarp! Trust me!” The warlock shouted once more before disappearing in the crowd.

Summon a demon, Jimin thought. Easy! That’s one of the basic things warlocks do! And if anyone knew magic, it was Jimin.

He hugged his notebook to his chest, fleeing the market and heading back to his home with a wide smile on his face.

Jimin drew his first pentagram as if he was clipping a newborn’s nails. He dipped his paintbrush into the black paint slowly, excitement brewing as he watched the paint clung to the hairs of the brush. This had to be the most thrilling part up till the actual summoning. Not a line could be out of place and Jimin was more than patient.

When the pentagram was finished, Jimin stood and marveled at his work. No one could have done it any better. No warlock could have done it any better.

Jimin looked around the room and everything seemed to be in place, a sense of pride swelling deep within his chest. All the candles were lit, white tarps set against the walls (to protect them from demon juices, of course he understood what the warlock meant), and the summoning book rested high on a podium by the entrance of the basement.

It was time.

Jimin rested his palms on either side of his notebook. A surge of power came forth from the parchmented pages. The tips of his fingers tingled as he subconsciously inched his fingers back and forth against page, feeling the years of hard worked brushing against the small groves in his skin. He closed his eyes and willed the power of magic to entrust him as a viable host and conductor.

Suddenly, the hairs on the back of Jimin’s neck and on his arms stood straight up. His eyes shot open and he gasped desperately for breath, the pressure of what felt like fifty pounds weighted upon his chest.

“Venio tibi omnino nudi. Neque subsidium exspectans si in te et vocavi vos autem videtis me dignus. Nunc oriri. surge.”

I come to you, completely vulnerable. I summon thee in hopes that you will see me as worthy. Now rise. Rise.

The words left Jimin’s mouth almost on their own accord, like a bubble forming in the pit of his stomach, rising out of his mouth and popping. Jimin had expected the wind to pick up, that the elements would start to form into one as he did what no regular human should be able to do. But there was not even a flicker from the wick of the candle. The room remained silent.

Jimin thought about doing the chant again. Maybe his pronunciation wasn’t correct? Or maybe he read the wrong summoning spell? No. It says it right there on the page.

But then...oh but then. The tiniest bit of smoke billowed up from the center of the pentagram causing Jimin to take a tentative step backwards away from the spellbook. Grays and blues swam together from a tiny wisp into a full blown eruption. Some of the candles went out, the force of the smoke being too strong. Jimin began to cough and soon couldn’t see through the thickness. The smoke completely enveloped him and it was all he can taste, smell, and feel. Jimin felt like he was about to suffocate on the smoke when it cleared with a whooshing sound, the pentagram suddenly in view.

A strong gurgling sound came from the pentagram and a putrid smell of a pig pen and rotten onions came with it. Jimin, in the midst of his coughing, gagged and struggled to keep himself from throwing up. Globs of essence splattered against the tarps as a figure in the pentagram began to take form. The squishy splashing sound as the essence of demon made contact with the tarps was enough to make any human feel faint.

Something rose up in the smoke, a form quickly ascending and becoming more and more detailed.

It was a lot smaller than Jimin was expecting...and more...human like?

“Phew!” The demon coughed and waved his arms around to clear more of the smoke. “They always said it would be a weird experience, being summoned, but geez. Not what I was expecting at all!” As the smoke parted further, Jimin finally saw him. The demon was taller than himself by a fair amount of inches. The demon was broader too and so human like Jimin thought he had made a mistake. Or that the warlock was playing a trick on him.

Unexpectedly, Jimin screamed, dropping his summoning spell in the midst of doing so.

“Ut éxeas ab hoc loco!” Jimin blurted the dismission spell without even thinking.

“Wait!-” It was too late. The demon was gone, a poof of blueish grey smoke being the only indication that he was even there at all.

Blinking, Jimin tried to collect himself. He summoned a demon! An actual demon! A rather...cute demon?

Jimin dropped to his knees, scrambling for his spellbook. Flipping to the right page, he began his chant once again.

“Venio tibi omnino nudi! Neque subsidium exspectans si in te et vocavi vos autem videtis me dignus! Nunc oriri! Surge!”

The same reaction happened in the pentagram as with the first summoning spell. Jimin was fearful he would get a completely other demon, one not as easy on the eyes as the first one was. After the smoke started to clear once again, much to Jimin’s delight, standing in the center of Jimin’s pentagram was the same beautiful monster.

The demon’s sandy hair had tiny droplets of goo still attached at the ends. With the demon’s soft facial features, Jimin was almost enamored to come forward and wipe the goo from its hair.

“Hi,” Jimin said softly. “My name is Jimin.” He walked closer to the edge of the pentagram to get a better look.

“Hey, Jimin. I’m Namjoon. Please don’t scream again.” Namjoon coughed again and continued to try to get the smoke to clear out. “Do you have a fan? Or a window you can open?”

Jimin laughed, completely bewildered, and shook his head. “Sorry. There aren’t any windows down here. We’ll have to suffer through it. And don’t worry,” he shyly kicked his feet against the ground, “I won’t scream again.” There was a tickle in the back of Jimin’s throat, but he did his best to keep it at bay. The smoke was definitely bad and he could taste the sulfur underneath his tongue.

“No worries.” Namjoon jumped up and down, stretching his arms over his head. “Sorry, this is the first time I’ve been summoned. Kinda cool.”

“It’s my first time summoning. Kinda cool.” Jimin and Namjoon smiled at each other. Jimin felt the beating of his heart increase, almost like a hammer slamming against his rib cage. He moved his fingers against his palm to try to wipe up the clamminess pooling up.

“Gotta be honest,” Jimin boldly says, “I thought demons were supposed to be...well...I don’t know…”

“Ugly? Gross? Hideous?” Namjoon chuckled and sat down in the pentagram.

“Yeah.” Jimin laughed a little too loudly, his stomach still bubbling with nerves.

Namjoon picked at something on the floor and sighed. “Back home they say I’m the ugliest of them all.”

Jimin stopped laughing and, in the heat of the moment, rushed towards the pentagram and dropped to his knees. “No. You are not ugly at all. You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on. Why...you could be an angel!”

Namjoon looked over his shoulder, trying to hide his smile. “Back home they tell me I’m the most hideous of all the offspring. So, thank you. You’re very kind. And...if I may be so forward, the most beautiful human I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

Jimin felt his heart swell for a mere two seconds before his eyebrows furrowed and a crushing feeling appeared in his chest.

“What’s with the face?” Namjoon cackled and rolled back on his tailbone, his hands gripped his knees like a little kid.

“I’m the only human you’ve ever seen. You told me already. This is your first time being summoned.” Jimin couldn’t fight the pout pushing to become present on his face. His bottom lip jutted forward, his shoulders sinking downward as he crossed his arms.

“A small detail.” Namjoon shrugged. Then, slowly opening his eyes, he stared deep into Jimin; his gaze had a flicker of fire behind them and Jimin had only noticed how blue Namjoon’s eyes really were. As the fire continued to burn into Jimin, the only feeling he felt was ice cold. “You’re the only one that matters now.”

Namjoon and Jimin sat on the basement floor for hours that day. Jimin taking the opportunity to ask Namjoon any mythical related questions he had; Namjoon answered politely and tried to match Jimin’s infectious excitement. Once there were no more questions on Jimin’s list, he was afraid Namjoon would want to return home. To his surprise, and delight, Namjoon asked where Jimin was from.

“I’m from Wequsun. It’s pretty far from here, actually.” Jimin, who was leaning back and resting his body weight on his hands, wistfully looked around the room. He had to swallow down the rest of his words. Talking about his hometown was one of his favorite things to do and he could go on and on until someone had to tell him to change the subject.

Namjoon leaned forward, resting an elbow on one of his crossed legs, right by the knee. Chin resting on his hand, his eyes sparkled as he licked his lips, watching Jimin closely.

“Please,” he said charmingly. “Tell me more about where you’re from, your family, all of it! I want to know everything.”

“Well,” Jimin said gently, turning his head to the side to try to hide his excited smile. “Wequsun is all I’ve ever known…”

And that was the start of an even longer conversation than the previous one of magic. Jimin described his immense love for his parents and how hard it was to say goodbye to them when he left for Daemur and how he couldn’t bare to write to them until he was successful in attaining his apprenticeship with the warlock. Namjoon’s eyes furrowed at the mention of the town’s warlock and when Jimin inquired about the reaction, Namjoon shrugged it off, stating he was only curious.

The room grew darker and dustier as Jimin joyfully retold old memories of his parents reading him stories of magic and how real people amongst them had magic wielding powers.

“That’s why I can’t go back until I’m successful,” Jimin said gently. “They’ve constructed this beautiful world for me to believe in and even though I miss them terribly, I can’t go back. This is where I belong,” with you, he wanted to add but held his tongue.

“It must have been so difficult to leave them. I can only imagine what that kind of pain must feel like. You’re so brave.” Namjoon leaned forward as if to touch Jimin, but stopped right before the end of the pentagram. The almost invisible wall shivered at the nearness of Namjoon’s skin.

Jimin looked up at Namjoon and smiled, his fingers digging into his skin on his calf. He wanted more than anything to be able to reach forward and lace his fingers with Namjoon's, to be able to feel his skin against the demon's. Would Namjoon's skin be cold? Warm? Would there be any feeling to it at all? Would his skin even feel like human skin? All of these questions came tumbling down into Jimin's head as he stared at his new companion's hands.

"When are you going to tell that warlock that you were successful?" Namjoon's lips moved slowly as he spoke.

Jimin awoke from his depressed trance and thought for a moment. "I should probably go to him as soon as possible, let him know that it didn't take me very long. Perhaps that will impress him. Are you okay to meet him?"

The corners of Namjoon's mouth twitched for a second before he pulled the left side of his bottom lip between his teeth, worrying at it before speaking. "If it's important to you then I will meet him. To be honest, warlocks don't have the greatest reputation where I come from."

Jimin smirked, "I think they could say the same about demons."

Chuckling under his breath, Namjoon nodded his head and let himself smile. "You're right, you're right. Leaving all prejudices behind, I'll meet your warlock. And I'll make sure to boast about how impressive your novice magic skills are." He winked, making Jimin's skin twitch in excitement, undertones of pink blooming across his cheeks.

Noticing the reaction, Namjoon raised an eyebrow, looking delighted by the humans reaction.

"Before you go," Namjoon said breathlessly. "There's something I wanted to try. If you’re okay with it...of course." Already standing with his back to the demon, Jimin stopped, afraid to face Namjoon.

"Oh? Try what?" Jimin's heart thumped loudly in his chest and he hoped that demons didn't have super hearing.

"Are you a..." Namjoon's chest rose and fell with the dramatic intake of breath he took, "a good boy?"

Jimin's body froze as if cement was poured over his joints.

"I see how you look at me. Your eyes carelessly roaming about my body. You're not very good at hiding your inner feelings, you know. Not nearly as good as you probably hope you do."

Jimin looked back to see Namjoon's tongue poked out of his mouth to take a slow swipe at his top lip.

Swallowing hard, Jimin pivoted the rest of his body to face the demon sitting in the pentagram, trying to remind himself that that was all he was. A demon. In a pentagram. He's in there for a reason.

"Don't be shy now," Namjoon encouraged. "That's it," he said as Jimin slowly stepped forward back into the light. "Oh...my." Namjoon gasped as he saw the not so subtle tent in Jimin's pants. "A good boy indeed."

Jimin was trembling, clenching his fists firmly to keep from trying to cover himself.

"Look at you," Namjoon purred, "so brave. Those pants must be awfully uncomfortable." He paused for a moment. Realizing he wanted a response, Jimin slowly nodded his head, trying to keep his breathing even as the situation before him became even clearer.

"Why don't you take them off then? Let me see you."

Jimin exhaled slowly and unclenched his fists. Moving them slowly to the button of his pants, he tried to be as seductive as he could by wiping his thumb over the tiny brown button. Jimin groaned as his own hand brushed the tip of his erection, his eyes closing as he refrained from touching himself more.

"No. Keep doing that," muttering, Namjoon moved to his knees, his hands gripping the fabric of his own pants as he watching Jimin closely. "Touch yourself again, Jimin."

Before complying, Jimin unhooked the button from his pants finally and let the fabric fall down to his ankles. The coolness of the basement brushed against his skin, making the small hairs on the inside of his thighs tremble. Tentatively, Jimin reached for his cock and squeezed the tip in his hand. His stomach lurched with the sudden intensity of pleasure and with his eyes still closed he imagined it was Namjoon's hand wrapped around his throbbing member.

"Does that feel good? Do you like touching yourself while someone else watches? Do you like being told what to do?" Namjoon's tone was steady and confident as he spoke. Barely comprehending the words Namjoon was speaking, Jimin continued to stroke his length.

"Stop stroking yourself." Commanded Namjoon.

Jimin whimpered as his hand stopped at the base of his cock, his eyes opening to look at Namjoon for further instructions.

"Good boy. From now on when I ask you a question, I need you to answer. Okay?" Standing up, Namjoon paced inside the pentagram once again before stopping to slowly look at Jimin. Shuddering, Jimin nodded his head, muttering a quiet okay as he tried to refrain from breaking Namjoon's gaze.

"W-what do you want me to do?" Jimin's voice quivered from both anxiousness and excitement. He couldn't help but feel stunned. Never would he have ever guessed he would be standing here in front of a demon he had summoned, pants down, and aroused. And even though the situation was overwhelming and unreal, he felt, more than anything else, truly happy.

Namjoon smirked and walked with a slow swagger, getting as close to the edge of the pentagram as he could. "Take off all your clothes," he said simply.

Jimin wasted no time obliging to the demon's request. He kicked his pants away from his ankles and grabbed the bottom of his shirt, lifting it swiftly over his head. Instinctively, Jimin rolled his chest forward as he took off his shirt, flexing his abdominal muscles as he did so. The shirt was tossed carelessly on the basement floor. Jimin shook his hair then quickly combed his fingers through it as he stood confidently before Namjoon.

All Namjoon could do was take a sharp breath as he marveled over the human's body.

"You...are beautiful. Beautiful indeed." Licking his lips, Namjoon doesn't take his eyes off of Jimin's body.

Trying to remain confident, Jimin straightens his shoulders. His hands felt weird resting on his side, they instinctively itched to cover up his private parts.

"Fuck! I wish I could touch you!" Namjoon yelled and turned his back quickly. Jimin jumped at the sudden noise, flinching a few steps away from Namjoon in the process. Suddenly, Namjoon's body straightened and he spun around quickly to face Jimin once more. One of his hands was resting on his chin, his pointer finger brushing over his lips as he gathered his words. A gleam in his eyes caught Jimin's attention. No longer looking at Jimin with arousal, Namjoon sunk to his knees and pleaded, "Let me out, my love. Break this pentagram so that we can be together. Let me show you what it's like to be loved."

Jimin remained unmoving. Which did not go unnoticed.

Namjoon stood up and brushed the dust off of his pants. Clearing his throat, that hunter like look reappeared in his eyes. "Jimin," his voice was smoother than freshly churned butter. "Baby. Let me out. Do you know how well I can fuck you? Hmm? I can make you cum harder than any human could ever dream of doing."

Jimin felt his cock twitch. Both him and Namjoon look at the erect member. Licking his lips and closing his eyes, Namjoon groaned the most sinful groan man had ever heard. Jimin's hips bucked forward and he gasped for breath. His blood felt fiery hot in his veins and it took every ounce of willpower within himself to remain grounded and present.

"I can't let you out, Namjoon. Not yet." Learning Latin was easier than saying those words.

"Why not? Are you afraid of how good this will feel? Are you afraid of being with a demon of hell? I promise you it's not as bad as you think. Well...unless you want it to be bad. I can make you come seven times without even touching you. I'd rather touch you. But if it'll earn your trust I'll remain in here."

Jimin had a hard time concentrating when all he wanted to do was to release the demon and be the best little fuck toy he could possibly be. But the logical voice in the back of his head pulled him out of the fog of arousal long enough to remind himself that he can't trust Namjoon. Not yet at least.

And yet...what if he could?

Jimin stopped pleasuring himself for a moment, unable to think straight when this whirlwind of confusing thoughts bombarding his mind. If he let Namjoon go, he could have the best relationship of his life. And, to be honest, the best fuck of his life. But there’s still that nagging voice in the back of his brain trying to remind himself of every book he had ever studied and how they all said the same thing: demons could not be trusted.

“Jimin,” Namjoon said softly, pulling Jimin out of his inner trance.

All Jimin could do was shake his head and groan as his thumb slides over his slit, picking up a perfect dew of precum coating his thumb. He removed his hand from his cock and rubs the precum between his fingers, looking into Namjoon's eyes before deciding, completely on a whim, to insert his fingers slowly into his own mouth one by one.

Namjoon licked his lips hungrily, watching Jimin's mouth intently. The yearning in his eyes were more wishful than anything he'd ever seen before. That's the look Jimin was hoping for. That was the look that said Namjoon was in for more than just a release from the pentagram.

Namjoon sucked in a deep breath, his bottom lip catching between his teeth as he tried desperately to restrain himself. Jimin was honestly shocked that the demon didn't have an erection yet and he's not sure if he should be unsettled by this realization or more turned on.

"That's it," Namjoon encouraged. "Just like that. Such a good boy, Jimin."

Jimin could feel a bead of sweat growing on his hairline, on the verge of running down his temple. The coolness of the concrete floor was a nice distraction from the radiating heat from his body. Namjoon's words sunk deeper and deeper into his subconscious, driving his arousal even further.

"You like when I talk to you like that? Huh? You like being praised?"

"Y-yes." Jimin panted, his hand stroking his length with vigor. Squeezing the tip of his cock, he couldn't stifle his moans as he thought of Namjoon's hand wrapped around his length. And then, his mind started to wander further as he tried to keep himself from coming too soon. He tried to think of sentences to practice in Latin, but all he could think of was Namjoon stepping out of that pentagram and railing him into an oblivion.

"Your eyes are closing. What are you thinking about?" The demon's tone is slow, his words coming deep from the back of his throat. There's almost a hint of a growl in the undertone's of his voice and that only brought Jimin closer to the edge.

"Ugh!" Jimin cried out and slowed down his pace, his hips bucking into his hand at the sudden change of pace. "I'm-fuck. I'm thinking about you." It was already hard to look Namjoon in the eyes as he sat on the ground butt ass naked, fully exposed in front of the demon. But now? Dirty talk wasn't something Jimin was necessarily turned off to. It just wasn't something he thought he would be particularly good at.

"What about me?" Namjoon purred.

Jimin bit his bottom lip, concentrating hard on the way his fingers slid over his shaft. The veins in his cock were popping out so much that when his fingers ran over them he could feel every slight groove.

"I was thinking about you...fucking me," he admitted.

"Oh." Namjoon leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. "Perhaps you're not such a good boy after all."

"I'm a good boy!" Jimin whined and tugged harder on himself.

"Eh, eh! Slow down!" Namjoon commanded. Jimin's eyes widened, pleading with Namjoon to let him continue his actions. "Only good boys are allowed to come. And I think you need to prove to me that you're truly a good boy."

Losing all of his self control, Jimin disobeys Namjoon's orders and continued to stroke himself, but more slowly this time.

Namjoon's eyebrows furrowed, instantly noticing Jimin's disobedience. "Jimin. I thought I told you to stop."

"Well maybe I don't want to." Feeling brave, Jimin looked straight into Namjoon's eyes and held the demon's gaze as he quickened his pace.

“Bad boys get punished,” Namjoon warned.

“Then punish me.” The smirk on Jimin’s face sealed the deal. He had never felt so in control and vulnerable at the same time before. It was terrifyingly thrilling.

Jimin continued to quicken the pace of his stroking, not even caring of the way his face contorted in sheer pleasure. Mouth opening into s small ‘O’ shape, he let out an arousal spurring whine. His hips bucked into his hand one last time before spurts of come released onto his stomach. Letting out a shocked, choked cry, Jimin let himself enjoy his orgasm fully, slowly moving his hand up and down his shaft to milk out every last drop that he had left in him.

“You selfish little-” Namjoon takes in a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose before looking back at Jimin. “Human’s truly are the most selfish creatures in existence. Release me so I can show you what happens when good boys decide they don’t want to listen anymore.”

The growling undertones of Namjoon’s voice makes Jimin stop and hesitate from getting up, seed still resting on his abdomen. There’s a wave of fear that hits Jimin’s mind and he can’t help but feel that he made a mistake.

“Go,” Namjoon turned his back to Jimin and crossed his arms. “Clean yourself up and go to your warlock. I’ll be waiting here.”

Wordlessly, Jimin stood up and ascended the stairs, not caring that his own come was dripping down his legs.

Jimin rushed out of his home, his shirt barely even over his head as he stumbled into the street. His neighbors stopped and stared at the barely clothed man running like a lunatic. But Jimin didn't care. All he was thinking was that he needed to find the warlock. And fast.

After literally coming just moments before, he couldn't stand waiting any longer. He, a human, had successfully summoned a demon without any help from another magical creature. And even in his novice studies, Jimin knew that was not a fate many could say they had witnessed...or survived.

As Jimin ran and continued to dress himself, he remembered what the warlock said about being able to find him. Not knowing exactly where he was going, Jimin followed his instincts and headed towards the outskirts of town, towards a burgeoning tree in the distance.

'This is right,' Jimin thought. 'This is where he lives.'

Trusting his gut, Jimin picked up his pace and rushed past more confused looking passerby's, not even giving them a second glance. As he got closer, the leaves from the tree started to shimmer, like a dance that beckoned him.

"Well hello there tiny human. What brings you here-" "I summoned a demon!" Jimin panted, his hand resting on the door frame. "I did it."

The warlock stared at Jimin, his eyebrows furrowed together tightly. He set down the bowl he was scrubbing and walked closer to the human. "Summoning a demon shouldn't make you this flushed, or out of breath."

Embarrassed, Jimin stood up straight and brushed his hair out of his eyes. "I just ran to find you. That's why I'm flushed."

"Mhmm. Okay." The warlock turned, clearly not buying his story. "Well, no matter what you had to...do to summon the demon. I don't quite believe you. Humans can't summon demons without ending up dead on the floor five minutes later."

"I don't think you've met a demon such as this, sir. He's kind and funny and looks like a human!"

"Firstly, let's drop this 'sir' and 'warlock' nonsense. My name is Seokjin. Secondly, there is no such thing as a kind demon. They can be funny depending on your sense of humor I guess." He paused to laugh, remembering something. "Okay there was this one time- wait. Not the point." Seokjin turned to Jimin with one arm crossing his chest, the other pointing right at Jimin's nose. "Demons will do everything they can to try to confuse you. Do not believe a thing this demon tells you. What...has he told you exactly?"

"Can I sit down? I'm in need of some water." Jimin clutched his side and invited himself in anyways.

"Oh sure welcome to hotel de warlock. Please make yourself comfortable." Seokjin rolled his eyes and entered his kitchen to fetch some water. Jimin sat down on a plump white couch in the living room, sighing as his back molded in with the cushion.

Setting down the glass of water in front of him, Seokjin waited until the human drank every last drop before pestering him again. "You're very impolite, you know."

Jimin coughed, some remnants of water still stuck in his throat. "What?"

"You demand I teach you magic, invite yourself into my home, and when I tell you my name you don't even think to tell me yours." Seokjin crossed his arms in front of his chest once more, turning away from Jimin in a childlike pout.

"I'm sorry," Jimin said sincerely. "I didn't really think about that." He set down the now empty glass on the wooden table in front of him.

"Just because I'm a magical being who's lived for hundreds of years doesn't mean I've lost all of my feelings and emotions you know." Seokjin slowly turned to take a peak at Jimin who was staring at the ground by his feet.

"My name is Jimin. I didn't mean to intrude on your home, I just really needed to sit down. I've lost a lot of energy and I'm honestly exhausted...from summoning the demon you know." His cheeks felt flushed once more as he partially lied, knowing very well that he was exhausted from his intense orgasm not even twenty minutes earlier. Jimin coughed abruptly, his throat aching from the force and it almost made bile escape from his stomach.

"I see." Seokjin nodded. "That’s quite the cough you got there. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Jimin whispered, his throat delicate.

“Alright. Well let's hear about this demon. I want to see what you have to say before I go and see it for myself." The warlock picked up the empty glass Jimin had used and began walking towards the kitchen to clean it.

"Do you think..." Jimin started slowly. "That demons can feel love?"

Seokjin paused, almost dropping the glass. His lips formed a straight line and made a popping sound as he released them. Forgetting the glass, he left it suspended in mid air as he returned to Jimin.

Seokjin sat down next to Jimin and put a hand on top of the human's thigh. "Demons cannot feel love," he said carefully. Jimin looked up at him with startled eyes. "I know it's really exciting to summon a demon. I remember my first one too. But they are not good. They are demons for a reason. They live in hell for a reason."

Jimin turned away from Seokjin and stared at his hands clasped in his lap.

"You're very new to this world. And no- don't interrupt," Seokjin scolded as Jimin had opened his mouth to say something. "It does not matter how long you have studied something. Living it is different. This demon does not care for you. Every demon has an agenda and they do not leave without getting something in return. Every time I summon a demon it is because I need something and accept that I must exchange a favor for their cooperation. It is not an easy task and there is a reason so many die after their first summoning. Humans and warlocks alike." Seokjin pats Jimin's thigh once more before standing up again. "Dismiss the demon. Do not summon him again until you've received further training."

Confused, Jimin remained seated, looking up at the warlock with hopeful eyes.

"Yes, I will take you on as my apprentice." Seokjin smiled. "But only if you send that ugly thing back where it came from. I didn't expect you to be able to summon one in the first place. But, now that you have, it's up to you to do what's right."

Joy erupted throughout Jimin's whole body as the warlock disappeared back into his kitchen.

"Wait," Jimin said cautiously. "I thought you said you wanted to see him. To prove I did it."

From the kitchen, the warlock called, "Nope! No need! I believe you. Just get rid of him and never summon it again. Now go. Do it quickly. We'll start training right away."

As Jimin walked home his sense of joy was being eaten by deep sadness. He didn't want to send Namjoon away, but his whole life he dreamed of becoming an apprentice to a warlock.

"So I have to choose. You or the apprenticeship." Jimin ran his fingers through his hair, tugging on the ends slightly. The pull on his scalp oddly made him feel centered, like he could physically pull all of the negative energy from his brain and out of his body. As soon as he let go, the throbbing headache of decisions remained.

"That's," Namjoon puffed out his cheeks as he exhaled. "Yeah. That's a big one." He nodded his head and set his hands knuckle down on his hips.

"I've dreamt of this my whole life," Jimin started jubilantly. Turning away from Namjoon, Jimin was able to picture the life he dreamed of ever since he was a little boy. The picture perfect career displayed before him like the characters of a book coming to life. He could see perfectly Seokjin the warlock praising Jimin for his astounding advice and for always offering up his vast knowledge of magic. The warlock would confide in Jimin for everything. They would become best friends and partners in life. "But," he continued, turning back towards Namjoon, "how could I ignore these feelings I have for you? This immediate chemistry and excruciating passion I feel towards you...I can't dismiss that. It's like I was meant to summon you. We were meant to meet." Jimin clenched his fists in front of his body, as if holding some invisible bars between his hands.

Namjoon looked at him fondly and Jimin had never felt so heard and cared for. He knew he was babbling on and not making much sense, and yet, Namjoon listened patiently, waiting until he was sure Jimin was finished talking before giving his own input.

"From what you've told me about this warlock..." Namjoon said slowly, chewing on the skin by his thumb nail between words. Taking a deep breath, Namjoon dropped his hand away from his face and looked at Jimin boldly. "I don't think he cares for you at all."

Shocked, Jimin tilted his head to the side. "What do you mean?"

"I mean...he out right told you he didn't believe you would be able to summon a demon. And then he went on to say that most people die when trying to summon a demon for the first time. Uh? In my mind that sounds like he was okay with you possibly dying in an attempt to impress him. Doesn't that seem odd to you?"

Remaining silent, Jimin found it hard to meet Namjoon's eyes.

"If I may continue to be so bold," Jimin could still feel Namjoon's fiery gaze upon him as he spoke, "If I were a warlock and a devoted human came to me, telling me of how far he traveled just to request to assist me, to work beside me? I would at least have the decency to interview such a man. Jimin, my love, you told me he barely even looked at you." Pain was dripping in the demon’s voice, a tone that was completely new to Jimin's ears. He complied and turned to face his companion.

"It might just be his particular character. I don't know of the hardships he has had to face in his life so I cannot assume his actions went without a purpose. Yes, he reacted childishly towards me, but not once did I feel he did not care for me or that he did not admire my pursuing of him. I think he thought of me to be quite bold. And that's why he gave me such a dangerous task. If he knows how unlikely it is for a human to summon a demon and live...why give it to me nonchalantly? I have passed the first test in his book." As Jimin spoke the words, the more he felt sure that the warlock did not think negatively of Jimin or Jimin’s persistence.

"Jimin, you are not listening. Why would you want to work for someone who was so ready to accept your demise?"

Jimin thought delicately for a moment before answering. "To be a part of this world is all I have ever wanted. To go home now and abandon this world knowing now that it truly does exist...how could I do that?"

"Stay with me. Be with me." Namjoon's voice rose with passion. "You don't have to be a warlock's apprentice. I can teach you! Please. Not only can you have a mentor who truly cares for you, but you can have me as a life partner as well. Just release me from this pentagram. Let's start our journey together. We can travel the world and discover new magic together!"

The warlock's warning disrupted Jimin's appreciation for Namjoon's proposal. The thought exits as quickly as it arrived as he began to cough, but the overall question still remained in his brain.

"May I...rest on it?" Slowly Jimin backed away from the pentagram, heading backwards towards the stairs.

"Yes. Take all the time you need." Namjoon clasped his hands together loudly, but smiled as he watched Jimin nod his head before ascending upstairs. "But please!" He called after the human. "think of it!"

Jimin closed the door to the basement softly, his hand lingering against the wooden frame.

Jimin woke the next morning with a clear cut answer in his head. He thought about what Namjoon had proposed the night before and now Jimin can’t help but smile, his chest abandoned of nerves and second guesses. He was going to accept Namjoon’s request despite what the warlock had warned him. Jimin nodded his head confidently as he got dressed, silently confirming his thoughts. He picked out his best shirt and pants, taking his time to pat away the dust mites. The warlock didn't even know what he was talking about, Jimin reassured himself. He was just jealous that he wasn't able to make a deep connection like he and Namjoon had.

Jimin dipped his hands in his pale of water, splashing the cool water onto his face. Feeling as refreshed as he ever could, he shook his head to rid himself of the leftover droplets, ready to begin his life with the demon he loved.

Jimin descended the stairs down to the basement where a certain demon was pacing in circles, snapping and clapping his hands in boredom.

Stopping on the third to the last stare, Jimin took the moment to admire his lover. Although looking increasingly bored, Namjoon had this natural allure that Jimin just couldn't get enough of; the way Namjoon stood tall with his shoulders broad as he continued to pace, the natural purse of his lips, almost as if he was trying to whistle, and the way his eyes looked so distant and yet so focused as he remained lost in thought. Jimin wanted nothing more than to walk up behind the demon and embrace him, to feel his small arms wrap around Namjoon's powerful and sturdy body.

He wouldn't have to wait much longer, he smiled at the thought and resumed his descent into the basement.

"Hey," Jimin tried to say casually. Namjoon stopped pacing and turned toward him with a smile.

"Well, hey."

"I've thought about what you said." Jimin approached the pentagram slowly, clearing his throat before placing his hands clasped firmly behind his back.

"You have?" Namjoon rushed closer, stopping just before the wall. "What have you decided? Please tell me I can't wait another second!" Namjoon reached a hand up as if to stroke Jimin's cheek. Jimin instinctively moved his head to where Namjoon's hand would have been, imagining that he could feel the warmth of his palm against his own cheek.

"I'm going to free you. So we can be together." Jimin's eyes filled with tears of joy. "You'll never have to return to that awful demon realm ever again. You can live with me! We can have the perfect life together. We can live wherever we want! Oh! But you must meet my parents! I can't wait to tell them all about how we met and how amazing you are. I'm sure they will love all of your stories!" Reaching forward, almost forgetting the pentagram, Jimin let the tips of his fingers skim the barrier of the pentagram. It felt like trying to push his fingers through gummy mud, thinking maybe if he pushed harder he would break through, but knowing deep down that wasn't true.

"You are absolutely adorable," Namjoon said gently. "I cannot wait to travel with you and to be free with you."

They shared a small moment where they looked into each others eyes, simply smiling at one another. Jimin's chest swelled with an overwhelming amount of love and adoration for Namjoon. He truly did not care where he ended up in this world. He would leave his apprenticeship behind if it meant a lifetime with the one he loved.

"Do the spell already I can't wait another moment of not holding you in my arms." Namjoon beamed.

"Okay! Okay," Jimin chuckled and took a step back towards his podium. The spell book remained open on the summoning page Jimin used when he first met Namjoon. Now, flipping forward a few pages, it rested with a spell to release a pentagram.

Jimin stared at the pages for a moment, quickly skimming over the words, before looking back at Namjoon. How can one even begin to describe the immense joy and happiness that one person such as Jimin could feel towards another? There simply isn't.

Carefully, Jimin traced his pointer finger over the words as he read from the book. An electric bolt of energy surged through his body coming up from his spine and erupting into all of his veins like river water gushing through a nearly dried up stream. Jimin felt his hair begin to lift from his head, standing up in all sorts of erratic positions. Then, he started to burn. The blood in his veins began to bubble to a boil, his eyelashes dropping faster than autumn leaves. Panic set deeply in Jimin's chest, but he could not stop himself from speaking the latin words. As he neared the end of the spell, Jimin knew he had been foolish to not trust the warlock. Evil rushed into Jimin's chest, taking homage inside his ribcage and choking him from the inside out. Some of his ribs cracked, his spine bending in unnatural ways as the last word left his lips: libertas.

As soon as Jimin broke the pentagram, a release of bluish gray smoke erupted into the room, and with claw like hands the smoke went straight for Jimin. The smoke tangled around the poor human’s body, wrapping him until he was practically cocooned. The smoke shot up into Jimin’s nostrils and tightened around his throat until the boy’s heart ceased to beat. When Jimin’s body thumped to the floor, Namjoon let out a small cough, using his hand to blow the smoke away from his face.

The demon stretched his neck, moving it from side to side and letting the bones crack deliciously.

“Too easy,” apathetically, Namjoon chuckled as he stepped over the lifeless body on the floor, exiting the basement without looking back.

𝓂𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉

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