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guesswho873 · 2 years

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Demand

Summery: jschatt wants tommy to betray pogtopia, and leaves the job to dream, so he have to convince tommy one way or other.

Note: I added a little bit of my au in this too, so if something feels off the lore, it's maybe cuz it's my au, or my dumbas* forgot that part of the lore.

Ok! thx you for reading this, now you can start reading this.

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so.....

"what the fuck you want?!" tommy asked, he was just walking around pogtopia when he ran into a masked man with a wicked smile who replied to the angry teen, "oh! heyyyyyy, my old friiiiend.... i came here for a.... "faver" you see.."

tommy raised a eyebrow to the green man. "ohhhhh... nothing just a small favour....!" dream said chuckling,

tommy frowned and asked "and what the fuck would that be?" and dream sighed and said " now, now tommy you don't want to get on that tone!." dream said and reached out for his sword.

tommy took a step back and dream took a step forward. "now you better do what i fucking say or else this place is gonna get bloodly" dream said slightly pulling his sword out.

tommy was in fear, there was no one in site and he don't think anyone is gonna hear him, and sure he had his weapons but it was almost broken only can swing a few times, so he nodded but still he knew what dream had in mind is not good.

"betray them." that's all dream said in a serious voice. and tommy cringed at hearing it. "the fuck?" tommy said.

"TOMMY!!" dream shouted and tommy flinched. how did he got him self into this??. ugh he should have listen to wilbur when he said not to walk around the forest this late at night, but as always he didn't listen to him, and now he is stuck in this situation.

"FUCKING.Betray.them...."dream demanded him, " N-No!!!! what the fu-fuck??!" tommy tried to sound intimate but the fear in his voice was clear, this all was so sudden, why dream would care if he betray pogtopia, it's not like he is on manberg side, right? or is he, if he is, then why?, why would be on jschatt side, that doesn't make any sence?, cuz he thought he helped them to get some loot, was they wrong? what's happening?

tommy had so many question that can't be answered, atleast not now. "oh? so you want to do this in a hard way huh?" dream came forward slowly and rubbed his sword in his plams and continued "so, you want to get killed this soon?, tortured? oh trust me you WILL suffer, like for example drain all your blood when your still alive, or maybe tie you up and i hit those eyes of yours with my arrows? and enjoy your screams?" dream placed his sword, the tip reacting tommy's neck "how does that sounds?" dream asked with a sadist grin that tommy can't see but hear.

"do it." tommy looked down, "wha-...." dream asked shocked lower his sword a little.

"i said GO THE FUCK HEAD AND DO. IT" tommy looked directy on the mask and took a step forward and continued "I am not going to even fucking think of betraying them, NEVER. so go ahead and do as you wish i DON'T CARE, YOU PRICK!" tommy shouted holding the sword's end, and blood came down from it. which even got dream off gaurd.

"fine" dream took away the sword from tommy's hand and swung it, tommy closed his eyes tightly, he thought about wilbur phill,techno,tubbo everyone he loved.... at his last moment of his life, ready for the sword to tear open his neck.

but it didn't.....?

tommy slowly opened his eyes to see dream just staring at him, like he is in some thought like, he is not sure if he want to do this or not.

on dream's head, he didn't know what to do, he didn't think tommy would actually accept it! he said that just to intimate him cuz he didn't actually want to hurt him, actually he didn't even want to blackmail tommy into betraying pogtopia, jschatt wanted him to do it.

of course he refused at first, diefnitely not cuz he didn't want to hurt tommy but, cuz well.... he hate to say it, but he wanted pogtopia to win, he helped them too, but then jschatt said something that made him think otherwise.

"if you do this, i will show you something that no man in this server has ever seen...." with a smirk. and that got dream curious, sure he could just be lying but something, like the way he said it, dream know he wasn't lying, but what could it be..... something no man in this server has seen? not even him?

dream was snapped out of his thought when he heard a laugh, it was tommy.

"ptt- i know it, you all just talk!!!" another laugh "oMg like 'i gonna drAin your bLOod' ooooohhhhh! omg i am SOO scared!" tommy mocked him, and dream was unable to do anything but lower his sword and frown.

"pls call me when you ACTUALLY gonna do something, i will be waiting, you little btich!" tommy smirked and turned around.

"you trust him?" tommy head a silent but chilling voice say that, tommy felt chills go down his spine, as he trun and ask..

"what?" tommy asked in a very low tone.

"DO you really trust him?" dream asked again a bit annoyed.

"i-i mean,of course?!!" tommy said trying to sound confident but failed.

"*scoff* how pathetic" dream scoffed, if he can't hurt tommy, he will do something he is very good at, manipulation.

"excuse me?" tommy asked confused.

"of course, you are here ready to give up your life, while wilbur is there using you" dream said.

"usi- huh?! stop talking shit!" tommy said.

dream did a small laugh "poor tommy, who is still a child, don't know anything about the outside world...."

"wha-"

"okey, how are you ganna defeat jschatt exactly? by killing him?…, HA! pogtopia is really lacking some loot AND members, and jschatt has a full control over a city, that YOU created." dream said scoffing.

"well we will get soon?" tommy said and dream again just giggled, he walked closer to toomy, tommy tried to move backwards, but dream started to walk around him.

"nononono! you silly!" dream got closer to tommy's ear and said "wilbur will probably destory, everything. and leave you in dust." tommy flinched amd turned back at him "n-no that's not- no, i-it's not! we both care about eachother you h-headless creep!" tommy even forgot how to insult.

"care? CARE!? pttth- he brainwashed you real good, huh? tommy, there is no fucking care here, he just want you so he could use you!, how? you may ask, to get access to your dearest friend, tubbo. and he got it" dream said tilting his head to the side and smile.

tommy took a step back " why tubbo? " tommy asked a sweat dripping down his neck.

"gosh! should i really have to explain everything?" dream rolled his eyes and continued "

"he needed tubbo to spy on jschatt, and how would he do that? by you, you and tubbo are really close friends, and he knows tubbo wouldn't say no to you even putting his own life in risk, so now you understand?" dream said placing his hand on his hips.

seeing this tommy also put his hands on his hips and tried to act cool."ha! that's where you're wrong! jshatt now knows that tubbo was the spy, so he k-kil- umm-uhh kicked him out! so if what you are saying is 'right' then wilbur would have thrown me out of his life! but you see i still on his side!"

dream again rolled his eyes "don't you see it tommy?, after the tuboo's death that literally happen in front of your eyes, in YOUR country, what he did? nothing. absolutely Nothing! and after that he didn't even cared about it, no one did, you only did, and he probably said that was so stupid of you!" dream sighed and continued.

'and after that as you said he didn't need you anymore, but he was still in war with manbrug, and kicking you out is a bad choice cuz you know everything tommy, so if he kicks you then he knows you will go to jschatt and tell everything, about him, his weakness,his plans etc, and that's why nowadays he is not completely honest with you." dream said the last part with a low voice.

"w-wh-hat! no.. no he-" dream cut him off.

"he is been talking to me, and getting me to help him, and he wanted me to give him many explosives and tnt etc, and said he would not be scared to do something bizarre" dream said.

"what!?, THE FUCK!?" tommy said, hearing this dream chuckled.

"yes, and i could go on and on about how we talked, and meet but i'll save that" dream said. and tommy went completely silent, he was thinking about something, he was shaking his head putting his hand on his hair.

"so if you are done with that, then will yo-" before dream could finish, tommy leapt forward and grabbed him by his coller and said "now you listen, you little green shit, i KNOW you are saying all this bs to manipulate me, but that fucking not gonna happen, but i am afraid that i don't have any proof to deny what you said, THAT'S THE ONLY THING STOPPING ME FROM RIPPING YOUR HEART RIGHT NOW!" tommy said in a fit of range.

dream could see tommy's anger in his eyes, the were really red and a tears fell down as he said that and he was breathing really fast.

after that tommy left his coller and turned around and was gonna leave when dream grabbed him from behind and wrapped his arms around tommy's neck and put a napkin on his mouth and nose.

tommy squirmed and kicked but he was too weak now, his vision was getting darker and darker and he finally blacked out.

an hour later.....

tommy's eyes twitched and he slowly opened his eyes.he was somewhere.....he don't know, but he do know that it was dark....very dark. there was a small tube light on the ceiling and he was tied.. in chains. his hands were chained to the wall behind him they were tied above his head. he tried to pull it down but no luck.

hearing the sounds of chains a wooden door in the room that tommy was in opened, a evil grin face mask wearing man walked in.

"weeeelll.. weeellll look who finally-" dream tried to say but tommy cut him off.

"first of all, which kidnapping movie you saw and decided to lock me here?" tommy asked cooly with a eyebrow raised.

"all of them"

"k,fair enough"

"anyway... why did you kidnap me!?" tommy asked.

"well obviously, to make you do what i say" dream said.

"that not gonna happen so, fuck off" tommy said and dream chuckled.

"tommy i kidnapped you, and tied you, i can do ANYTHING! to you~~" dream said with a grin.

"ok ,but is this your house? no wait you don't have one, who did you pay for to get this?, cuz i gotta tell ya, he ripped you!" tommy did a joke the dream did not like.

dream grabbed his sword "don't joke around!!" dream said.

"woah!, woah ok, clam down buddy, your blood pressure is gonna go high" tommy said.

dream sighed "i don't think you realise how much trouble you are in right now, do you?"dream asked.

"so what now? i am gonna go to my naugthy cornor? oh wait i can't!" tommy shook his hands to show dream that he can't move. dream got closer to him. tommy cringed at it.

"fine, i will leave you here for some time, for you to realise just how much helpless you are, and i will decide what torture method should i use on you, kid" then he left the room.

as soon as dream left the room tommy's smirk faded, he started to stuggle and tried really hard to get out of the chains, but it just wouldn't come off,tommy groaned 'i think he will get tired and leave me if i kept acting cocky like that, but i don't know how much longer i can act like this! will he really torture me till i accept? how would he torture me?' tommy thought.

suddenly he remembered what dream said "drain all your blood when you are still alive.. or.." "AHH-" tommy screamed out of his thoughts and was breathing so fast.

'nononononono' he NEED to get the fuck out of there as soon as possible,. he started to stuggle again.

while that was going on that room, dream didn't know what the heck he was gonna do, as he thought earlier he didn't want to hurt tommy, but at the same time he can't let him go...... dream also groaned... then suddenly a idea popped up on his head... 'if i can't decide i will ask someone else...." of course it was sapnap, and he texted him, this is how it went (green is dream and orange is sapnap).

"help!!"

"what?"

"i kidnapped tommy..."

"cool"

"that's your reaction?"

"then how am i supposed to react?"

"oh......"

"wait YOU kidnapped him, then why do YOU need help?"

"yeah, i want to torture him but how?"

"oh, makes sence, you don't have your sword?"

"i do, why?"

"THEN FUCKING USE IT DUMDASS"

"NO! i don't really want to hurt him....you know then the whole pogtopia will be after me'

"oh..... wait you said you kidnapped tommy, right?"

"yeah...?"

"dude........ he is a child, treat him like one then!"

"idk any kids torture method.."

"oh! i know one!! i am sure you will love it!"

"you knew a kid torture method? what's wrong with you?"

"you're saying that?...."

"fair enough, ok what is it? and why would i love it...?"

and seeing what sapnap said dream smirked "oh, this is gonna be good."

after what it felt like forever dream entered the room and saw tommy...

the floor was scratched like he has been kicking for too long, and he was breathing so hard and his hand gave up and laying on the chains.

"aw! guess you tried some stupid shits!" dream said.

"j........just leave me.......alone..." tommy said kinda tired.

"hmmm? so you changed your mind?" dream asked.

"bitch, no" tommy said looking up at him.

dream sighed and said"you poor thing..." and started to walk towards tommy.

tommy wanted to move back, but there was two things 1: he was chained and 2:there was a wall."no! no NO! sTaY BAck! WHAT ARE YOu thinking of doing!?" tommy panicked.

but dream calmly took a piece of cloth and tied tommy's eyes blinding him.

tommy tried to stop him by shaking his head and curssing at him. but dream didn't listen

now tommy can't even see, he even felt more helpless, great now he can't even prepare for what dream is gonna do.

"What are you FUCKING gonna do to me!?!"tommy asked in fear.

"many things, that will make you betray them!" dream said and smirked.

tommy flinched, he did expect dream to be so close to him "LEAVE ME ALONE OR YOU WILL SUFFER!!" tommy tried to scare him but no luck.

"you know what? since your are a little curious thing..? i will kinda tell you what i am going to do..~~" dream said.

tommy thought all the torture methods, like 'omfg he is going to beat me to death?, will he cut of my body parts one by one? is he gonna smash my head into the wall? god...' tommy was preparing for the worst-

"are you ticklish~~?" dream's voice was heard on tommy's left ear and there was a small poke at his side,to which he flinched.

tommy snapped out of his thoughts so fast to that question, he almost wanted to burst out laughing, at first, but the more he thought about it he more he realised he was fucked.

"your silence is answering yes to the question tommy!~~" dream said in a teasing tone and slowly he drew circles on his side

tommy bit his tongue trying not to giggle 'what kinda sick joke is this?' tommy thought but he knew dream isn't joking around, and he knew he is gonna brake but not this fast.

"come on tommy!, it's rude to not answer someone.!!"dream said, knowing damm well tommy gonna brake.

"nhoho *ahem*no!?" tommy acted like he was clearing his throat to hide his giggles, but dream had sharp ears.

"oh! was that a giggle i heard? awww!is this poor child ticklish?" dream said.

tommy shook his head and to the dream put to fingers to poke.

tommy was so close to just burst out giggling, but he can't, and dream got bored , so he spiced it up by both of the sides at the same time.

tommy squeaked with his mouth closed (yeah idk how that works)and shook his head.

"ohh come on tommy i know you can't keep this up~~" dream said teasingly, "just laugh~~ like you always do, like the idiot that you are!!" dream said.

tommy so wanted the wall above them to crush dream, or atleast him, anything to avoid him laughing.

and dream's hands moved up, and that's when it happened, tommy's child like laughter came pouring down.

"ptth- HAHAHAhahahaAhah nohohohohohoho! fuhahahahack!! hahahahahahha" tommy so regretted laughing but he couldn't help it. 'now he even knows that i am ticklish! fuck... he is so gonna keep this long now!!' tommy thought.

"ha!! i told you!! all that serious act is gone now huh? hmmmm? aw! is the one and only tommy is so ticklish?!" dream teased him, and moving to a rib to another.

"Ah-HahahHahahhaHAHAhahah, suhahahahut uhahahap yohohohou lihihitlehe- HAHhahaHhaah" tommy tried to threaten him, but it failed badly.

"you know, you really looked like a 5 year old who wanted to puke" dream said.

it has not been a min, but tommy already wanted this to end, this is bad if this continues for a long time, then tommy might just even change his mind.

"hahHHahhAHAHhaha!,fuhahahHAHckhahaihihng sHOhohoHoOlp thhihihihHAHAis hahaha!!" tommy again said, but he knews it's just uesless.

"only if you change your goddamm mind!!" dream said, suddenly dream tickled tommy's armpits, and tommy squeaked at the change of place.it was even more bad when be can't see.

"AH-PTT-HAHAHAHAHhahahahahaHAHAhaha! shhihihiHIIHHIHIt hahahahahahHAhhaHHa dREHEHEHEeam!Hahahah!"tommy tried to say something.

"yes?" dream asked like nothing is wrong.

"FAHAHahahhaauhahachahahk yoHOHOHhohohohou!!"tommy blurred it out and dream frowned.

"tommy!! I CAN DO THIS TILL YOU VOMIT BLOOD!, So.. fucking do what I say, when i am acting nice!" dream not even slowing down for a bit.

tommy flinched,"HAHAHAhahahahHahahahHHah! noHOHOnohohho! hahahahahahahah!" tommy need to get out, but that's seemed impossible, he did so much squirming and tried to get his hands down,the chian didn't give up.

"tommy, i am LOSING my patients right now! you better agree or this gonna get worse" dream warned.

'god no!' tommy thought, not only cuz obviously he won't betray wilbur, but if they ever find out the reason for him to betray his OWN brothers and friends, and join the other side, is by tickling,TICKLING! oh hell no, he much rather kill himself.

So tommy just shook his head, "fine,you asked for it!" and the tickling stopped for a sec, then dream blowed a raspberry on his stomach.

"PTTH-HAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!! NOHOHOHOHOHOHOH!! DREHEHEHEHEHEHEAM STHOHOHOP! HAHAHAHAHAHAHHA! haahahahhaha HAAHAHA!" tommy was laughing hysterically.

dream stopped with the raspberries, but still ticked tommy's stomach with his hands, ruthlessly scratching on it,but tommy's laugh slightly went down, but he was still laughing like crazy.

"HAHAHhahahahahHhaahhHAHA!! *snort* HAHAHHAHAHHAhhahahah SHOHOHOhohohp! PLhehehHEHEheehhes! HahahahaHHhahaHAAHHAHAHAhahah!!" Tommy started to beg, his face starting to get heated.

"Aw! Isn't that cute?, but too bad I am not here for that!, so, come on tommy!, don't you want this to stop?, or do you want this to go on? Hmmmmmm~~ do you really want tickles? But it tickles so much, isn't it? Tickle, tickle, tickle ~~" dream teased tommy.

And tommy wanted to throw up, but somehow it made the tickles far worse.

"HAHAHAHAHHAHAHA! SUHHAHAHAHAHT UAHAHHAAHP! HAHHAAHHA PLEHEHEHSE IHIHIHIT'S SOHOHOHOHOHO BAHAHAHAHAHD!! HAHAHAH!!" tommy begged so much,but dream wouldn't stop until he gets what he wants.

seeing tommy was laughing so hard, dream kinda felt bad for him, so kinda slowed down, but to his surprise, tommy laughed even harder.

"AHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!NOHOHOHOHOHOHOH! NOHOHOHT THAHAHAHAHAT HAHAHAHAH!! AHHAHAHA DREHEHEHEHEHAM PLEHEHEHHEHEEHHESE!!" tommy squirmed and kicked 10x more.

Dream was confused, he thought tickling hard only will make laugh harder, and slowing down means the laugh will also slow down, but tommy was doing the complete opposite? Did he actually lost his mind?

So like a curious cat that he is, dream pulled up tommy's shirt to reveal his stomach, and lightly scratched on it. And dream was delighted to see tommy lose his shit.

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA!!!? SHHIHIHIHIHIIHIHIHIHT! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAA! PLEHEHEHEHSEHEHSE DREHEHSHEHEHHAHHM I AHAHAM BEHEHHEHGGIHIHING YOHOHOHU!! STOHOHOHP!!' tommy was absolutely can't take it,you better know tommy was flopping like a fish out of water.

"Awww! Light tickles work better on you!? Now that's a good news to me!! Not rough on this too? God you are just a softie" dream smirked,when he saw tommy's blush darkened.

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!! PLEHEHEHEHSE!PLEHEHEHEHSEHEHSE!! I WIHIHIHIL DOHOHOHOHO ANAHHAHAHAYTHHIHHHIHIHING!" Tommy said without even thinking.

"you know what to do~~" dream said in a teasing voice.

"NHOHOHOHOHOOHHO! ANHHIHIHIHIYING BUHAHAHAHT THAHAHAHAHAHAHT PLEHEHEHSE!!" Tommy said, thinking maybe, just maybe dream will leave him alone.

"Nope!" Dream said and chuckled in a evil way. And put his fingers in a motin like he was zooming on a picture in a phone, but with all his fingers in the belly and directly on the bellybutton, and scratching up and down in between.

"*Wheeze* HAHAHAHAHA! HAAAAAA! HAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAH *hic* MEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHRSY HAHAHAHAHAH! *hic* HAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA!" tommy was screaming in laughter.

After hearing this, again the ticking stopped, but tommy wasn't complaining, he was gasping for air greedily, when he heard the door open, tommy thought dream left and was about to sigh in relief, when the door snapped open and he heard the voice.

"I'm back!!" Dream said again being close to him.

"No!.......pls I-i can't take a-an-anymore pl-plea-please!!!" Tommy said, he said this in so many different ways, but the answer was always the same.

"No! I already told you!" Dream said.

Tommy tried to move back so badly "NO! Pls!pls! It was soo b-bad! Pls!!" Tommy said and dream smirked.

"Oh! Don't worry I will make it worse!" Dream said.

And tommy felt something soft his sides, which was even more sensitive than before for some reason, and tommy squeaked.

"Wtf is that!?!!" Tommy panicked, 'oh god, oh god,no pls don't be-'

"Feathers!! So many infact!" Dream said holding bunch of feathers in both of his hands, but only using one hand,for now.

And tommy was back to laughing.

Dream eventually put the other hand also in action.

"Come on tommy! I am not fucking around!" Dream said.

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! PLEHEHEHEHEHESES IHIHIHIHIHUHIHT'S HAHAHAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAH I CAHAHAHAHSHN'T WHHAHAHAHAHAHIT BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHSH!!" tommy was getting close to even forget how to form a sentence.

The squirming and kicking tommy was back.

If that wasn't bad dream used one hand full of feathers in his stomach, the other hand to tickle tommy's armpits.

"HAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAH!!!! YOHOHOHOHOHU GOHOHOHOHOHOHONA KIHIHIHIHIHIL MEHEHEHEHEHEH!HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!! PLEHEHEHEHEHEHSE" Tommy begged again and again but no use.

"Ohhh! I can already see the death message 'tommy was embarrassingly ticked to death' wow, already people don't respect you, if they knew this... Yeah no one is going to take you seriously!" Dream said.

'Oh, my fucking god...' Tommy just imagined that, if they EVER see that, they will NEVER let him live it down, oh god especially his wilbur and techno. Nope he much rather get swallowed by a monster.

"NOHOHOHOHOHOHOH PLEJEHEHEHESE!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAAH!! STOHOHOHOHOHP TEAHAHAHAHAHSHIHIIHNG!!" Tommy said and giggled.

"Then accept what I said!!" Dream said again for the 69th time, but tommy was so stubborn, he shook his head.

Dream was getting annoyed, he blowed a raspberry on the bellybutton with the feathers and hand tickling, and tommy was howling in laughter.

"HAHAHAHAH!*wheeze* AHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH *hic* BAHAHAHAHAHAHAH DREHEHEHEHE HAHAHAGAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAH" it was official, tommy forgot how to from a sentence.

This was going for 15 mins straight, when dream got bored, while tommy was a MESS there were tears rolling down his cheeks.

"Let's try something new.....!" Dream said, but tommy didn't react he was to tired and was still giggling, he was focused on breathing, when he felt two hands on his hips.

"OH FUCK- AHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA PLEHEHEHEHEHSEHEHE NAHAHAHAHT THEHEHEHEHRE! " tommy was already back to losing his shit, but dream didn't even do what he wanted to do completely.

He lowered his head down still squeezing tommy's poor hips, and nibbled on his bare belly. And tommy SCREAMMED. He almost saw heaven(or hell)

“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA!!!*wheeze* AHHAHAHAHAAHHAHAHAHA! DAHHAHAH *gasp* HAHAHAHA AHAHAHAEHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!*hic* HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!!!"

This was going for another 15 mins and tommy felt like his throat was gonna get ripped, he was like shit, he thought this was it. It was torture, he-

"TOMMY?!" the two men or 1 man and a child, heard a british man say that from kinda close but far, dream got up and frowned, he looked down at tommy "you got lucky this time" and left.

Tommy on the other hand went completely limp, his head was down, his hands were just hanging by the chains, but he was still giggling.

"TOMMY!, WHERE ARE YOU?!!" Wilbur said, but tommy didn't have the energy to answer.

Finally tommy felt the wall nearby brake, "Omfg! Are you ok tommy?" Wilbur's worried voice can be heard.

"Ye........s?" Tommy said while wilbur broke the chains "WE FOUND HIM, HE MUST ME NEAR!" A voice behinde him can be heard. It was techno.

After the chains broke tommy's hands hands wrapped around his stomach.

" you go help them to find him, I will take care of him"wilbur said and techno nodded and left.

Wilbur helped tommy up "you ok tommy?, god you look like shit! What the fuck did that baster do to you?!" Wilbur asked. But tommy just replied.

"I........need....some rest...." And wilbur nodded, oh you better know wilbur is gonna-

Wilbur saw the feathers, one of dream's mask (he has a lot of them) and the way tommy was breathless,he understood what happened.

'Oh, that green shit is gonna pay for this...' Wilbur thought, but that has to wait cuz right now all he wanted to do is get tommy to the base.

But that won't be that long....

END

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HOLY COW! It's been forever since I posted!! Thx you for waiting!! I am so sorry for that!! This fic was so long, and I didn't have the motivation to write. But anyways....

Hope you like this!.

#dsmp tickle #mcyt tickle #ler!dream #lee!tommy #lee!tommyinnit #tickle fic #demand fic

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sadinasaphrite · 2 years

Text

Whumptober Day 7 - Cater

Today’s whump comes for Cater! Emotional whump today, no injuries.

No. 7 THE WAY YOU SHAKE AND SHIVER

Shaking Hands | Seizures | Silent Panic Attack

Read on AO3!

Fic under the cut!

>I heard back from my mom. She said it’s fine if you wanted to spend winter break with us. There’s a guest room so you won’t be intruding, but I’ll be busy helping with the shop, so you’ll probably be on your own for the whole break.

Cater dropped onto his bed in relief, sprawling flat on his back. He held his phone over his head and texted a reply to Trey.

>haha that’s fine! awesomesauce! it’s gonna be totes fab! tell ur mom thx a billion!

Cater sighed and dropped his phone onto his chest. There. It was done. He had somewhere to go that wasn’t home. Winter break was a few weeks away, so he still had some time to figure out how he was going to break the news. Maybe he just wouldn’t. Maybe he’d just wait until they asked why he wasn’t home and he’d be able to tell them he was in the Queendom of Roses and oh no, he couldn’t just teleport halfway across the planet, he’d have to wait for the Black Mirror to summon him back. See you in the summer. Too bad, so sad, go cry about it.

His phone buzzed on his chest with a new text message. He picked his phone up and his blood ran cold. As if summoned by his silent act of rebellion, the younger of his two older sisters had appeared in his texts like a bad curse.

>hey-hey cay-tee! when does ur break start? Tasia and I found this cupcake shop and we want to take you! look at how cute it is!!!

After Ella’s text were at least seven pictures of cupcakes, each with a mountain of frosting in unnaturally bright or pastel colors, sparking with candy and sugar. Cater grimaced. He could already feel the awful sensation of frosting in his mouth. He hated it. It always felt like fluffy sugar clinging to his palate and crackling like wet styrofoam in a way that he could feel all the way through his nose and ears.

>haha cute but you never wanted to hit up that hot pot place I wanted to try soooo…

>lol because it’s spicy? and we would literally die? omg look at these ones they’re like fat teddy bears

More pictures of cupcakes followed. Cater groaned and rubbed his face. He felt a headache forming between his temples.

His sisters Ella and Tasia meant well enough, but they were the actual worst. He hated sweets. They knew he hated sweets. They knew he hated the nickname “Cay-Tee.” Still, they insisted on stuffing him full of sugar and sweets until he wanted to puke, and laughed at his disgusted face, calling him cute, or their pitiful baby brother. Anytime he tried to get out of being dragged around by his sisters, his mother would rag on him for “not being a supportive brother,” or “thinking only of himself.” And yet if he wanted to do something and the girls didn’t, then it was perfectly fine for them to either ditch him or hijack his plans entirely. The double standard was not lost on him. If Cater wanted to be uncharitable (and he did, given the current circumstances) then he would say his sisters were pretentious, selfish little narcissists.

>so when are u coming? mamma said to ask

Cater’s chest clenched. Although his sisters were self-centered, they weren’t malicious or cruel. His mother, on the other hand…

Shit. What should he say? If he just refused to answer, then they’d just keep asking. He could tell them the wrong date and keep to his plan of just going with Trey, and they wouldn’t know until it was too late, but then everyone would know he’d lied to them, and his bitch of a mother would blow her top and make his life hell come summer. What should he do? What was he gonna do??

Cater’s breathing was coming faster and shorter as his chest continued to tighten and his thoughts spun in circles. This wasn’t the plan, this wasn’t what he wanted. He thought he had more time to get this figured out, but they wanted answers now and oh no oh no shit just say something before they think you’re dodging the question—

>oh lol I was actually thinking of staying with a friend over the break

Hell. There it was.

A minute passed, his phone silent and still. Cater’s thoughts never slowed, spinning faster and faster, his anxiety rising as there continued to be no response to the bombshell he’d just dropped.

Three dots appeared on the screen as Ella typed her response. Hell. That was worse.

The explosion hit all at once.

>waaaaaah what do u mean ur not coming i miss you so much please please come home caytee!!!

>Ella says ur staying at the school? wtf why would you ditch us we haven’t seen you since august wtf???

Great. Taisa was in on it now. Cater’s heart raced in his chest, pounding loud enough he could hear it in his ears, throbbing against his eardrums. His breath came in sharp, harsh breaths that stabbed his tightening chest.

>cayteeeeeeee pls i miss u i’m sorry we can go to hot pot its okay

>Pretty fukkin irresponsible to blow off your family for some rando student you’ll never see again after graduation

>i do want u to try this one cupcake tho

>Ella’s crying, so I hope you’re happy

>but only one i promise but if you like it theres another 2 i think u would like

>Cater. Call me. Now.

The last text came from his mother.

No.

No, he couldn’t.

Bzzzzzzzzt

Inbound Call: Mom

The phone vibrated angrily in his hand, and Cater broke. He shoved the phone away from him, stuffing it under a pillow where he couldn’t see it. Tears sprang in his eyes, and he had just enough presence of mind to frantically make sure his roommate wasn’t present before panic overtook him.

His breath sharpened until he was hyperventilating. He wrapped his arms around himself and curled into a ball.

Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzt

No… no no nononono… She was gonna yell at him. She was gonna say he was a selfish spoiled brat, that she never should have coddled him so much and how dare he hurt his sisters that way, how dare he have desires and thoughts and dreams and opinions, how dare he be a boy when what she wanted was a trio of girls, selfish spoiled shallow needy pathetic attention-seeking ungrateful disobedient worthless useless good-for-nothing piece of shit.

A sob broke through Cater’s hyperventilations and he hastily sucked it down. Can’t make noise. Can’t let anyone know. Can’t let them see you cry. He seized his pillow and buried his face in it, shaking like a leaf and weeping in silence.

Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzt

Cater threw his phone across the room and clutched his pillow once again. He sat cross-legged on the bed, arms wrapped around his pillow and rocked back and forth. His thoughts roared and spun like a maelstrom, sucking him down, down, deeper into black despair.

No freedom. No future. No escape.

By the time Cater’s breath slowed and his trembling stilled, almost an hour had passed. He slowly sat up, groaning as he stretched, then stared at where his phone lay on the other side of the room. It wasn’t buzzing anymore. For a long moment, Cater debated just leaving his phone where it lay, rolling over, and going to sleep. The thought was tempting, but he knew that prolonging the inevitable would only make things worse.

Despite his exhaustion, he dragged himself to his feet and retrieved his phone. One corner of his case was scuffed, but he hadn’t cracked the screen. That was something. He’d be sad about the scuff in the morning, but for now he was too drained to care. He ignored the missed calls, deleted the voicemails, and scrolled down to the bottom of the text messages without reading them.

>haha I didn’t know you’d miss me so much! Okay-kay, Cay-Cay’s here to stay-stay! winter break starts on the 15th. I’ll see you all then!

He hit send with a heavy heart, then immediately sent another text.

>hey Trey! thx so much for organizing all that, but something came up and now I have to go home for realz. Sorry!! orz RIPLOL

Cater dropped into bed once again and curled up around his pillow. A pile of new texts came in, but the only one he read was Trey’s reply.

>What happened?

Cater turned his phone off and plugged it in to charge. If he didn’t answer, Trey wouldn’t pry. Sometimes he wished Trey would.

With a heavy heart, Cater closed his eyes and sank into sleep.

#whumptober2022 #no.7 #silent panic attack #twisted wonderland #fic #Panic attack #Cater Diamond #My drabbles

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scarlettjade420 · 17 days

Text

Pt. 3

to read Pt. 2 go here ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“The homework he assigned” “WAIT, there was homework??? We just started school two days ago!” “yeah..he just assigned it 10 minutes ago?” I exclaimed with a small laugh. “Huh, i wasn’t paying attention-” i said as his attention and gaze got distracted by something shiny across the room. Yeah, I can tell “ I giggled again.

“Go grab a paper copy of it off from that shelf up there, I'll help you, it’s easy.”

Sitting on my sibling’s bed, my back against their wall, I continue telling them about my day again while they draw, as we had been doing all week. “And then he’s like, “wait, there was homework?” and i’m like, yeha, he just assigned it like not even 10 minutes ago. So I helped him for the rest of class. Witch was a little strange trying to help him because it’s still just one of those “get to know you papers. But he was funny and nice too, so it was fine," I explained with giggles and a smile. ‘soooo , tell me. Was he cute~?” My sibling teased.

“Oh my god, KAI!” I playfully pushed them in retaliation for their teasing.

“What! It was just a question!” they continued with a smile, followed by a few giggles.

“I barely know him!”

“and? That doesn’t change anything, you can still think he’s cute.” “kaii! “ I say with teasing and light hearted annoyance. We giggle and continue talking about each other's days. That is, until mom comes in.

“Linda, could you go do laundry, i’ve asked you a- oh look, the too deadbeats in a room. It sounds like the beginning of a bad joke. “Two dead beats walked into a bar, and they were refused service because they were both useless freaks.” “If you're gonna use insults, at least get original. You use the same child-ish insults over and over again. Aren’t you a bit old? I thought you would have grown up and out of that, like, 35 years ago?” I say with a heavy amount of sass and sarcasm. I wanted to keep her attention on me and away from Kai, she’s already done enough. I watch kai get visibly upset and tense when hearing her dead name. “Oh you little piece of crap, you better watch your mouth mister!” “You better watch your mouth '' I say, mockingly. She marches toward me, stomping like a toddler. I can’t say I was surprised when I felt her hand wack across my cheek, leaving a stinging feeling. Ofcouse she wore rings today.

“You’re going to be toing double the amount of chores this week!” she yells as she walks out the room. “I already do that!!” I shout back.

As soon as she’s left, I turn my attention back to kai, who has the most uneasy and worried expression. But at least I know they're safe. I pull them into a big tight hug and we sit there that way for a little while.

The following day, I'm in my biology class. I'm sitting at my seat just doing some homework while I have some free time, when someone comes up to me again today. The same boy from history yesterday. “Hey! I didn’t know you were in my biology.” “Yeah, I guess I am.” “Soo, whatcha doin?” he said, just as he had the day before, and in the same way, dragging out a few of his words. “Homework for other classes” I state simply, watching as he pulls out a chair in front of my desk and sitting backwards on it to face me. “Really? You’re using your free time to do homework?” I nod in response as I answer another question on my paper. “Why?” “So i don’t have to do it at home and can have more free time.” “Nerd.” “Dork.” “So, what do you do in your free time?” he asks, placing his head on his hand on the desk as if saying ‘see i’m an innocent fella.’ “I shrug, hang out with my sibling usually, I guess.” “You’re sibling?” “mhm” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ thx for reading! please let me know if you have any sugestions or constructive criticism or name ideas!^^

#art #artists on tumblr #art tag #writers and poets #writeblr #writers on tumblr #writing

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sailorhyunjinz · 3 years

Text

~ 𝘌𝘮𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘦 ~

𝘊𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 ; fluff/angst, hyunjin x gn!reader, established relationship, mentions of insecurities, implications of isolation, cuddling.

𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵 ; 0.7 k

𝘙𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥 ; Yes! by this anon!! thx~~

𝘕𝘰𝘵𝘦 ; yeah,,,, this broke my heart-

"jinnie? can i come in?"

You asked softly, two knuckles hitting the white bedroom door as you knocked. There was no answer causing you to sigh. Just when you were about to go and tell Chan that not even you could enter the melancholy boy's room you heard a soft groan, a frail voice calling out for you.

"is it y/n?" Hyunjin said, hearing the tears in his voice.

"yeah, it's me hyunjin. can i come in?"

A short "yes" was your authorization to enter the rather messy room. You closed the door gently behind you, staring at the mess that was his bedroom floor. Cans of soda cluttering up one corner, takeout boxes piled up in the other. In the middle of the room was his bed that had turned into his bungalow since he went on hiatus. You knew that it made Hyunjin upset. He so desperatly wanted to participate in the groups activities, missing the ones that made his career possible. Stay.

You sat down on the bed, Hyunjin being buried underneath his covers, refusing to even look at you. He looked so small, like a little plushy rock planted on the middle of the bed.

"i missed you, jinnie" you started, telling the truth was always good you thought.

"i missed you too" he answered with a longing tone, poking out his hand from beneath the covers, tapping his lightly on the bed as a signal for you to hold it. You smiled, grabbing his hand and interlacing your fingers with his, feeling the warmth radiating from them. You stayed silent for a while, thinking maybe Hyunjin would want to say something if you gave him enough time but the silence engulfed the both of you. You wanted him to open up and of course you couldn't force it but maybe it would help him to open up to one of the closest people in his life.

"do you want to talk to me hyunjin?" you said quietly, wondering if the question was too direct. The figure underneath the covers shifted a bit before he croaked out a small answer.

"yes,,, i feel- i feel as if i won't be welcomed back into the group anymore"

You furrowed your brows at his statement, squeezing his hand slightly.

"the boys all miss you very much, they all want to do fun activities with you and stay" you said back.

"y-yeah but,,, stays a-and the media, they all see me like some kind of monster, it doesn’t matter if it’s been debunked, it’s still a label set on me”

His speech sounded muffled from the covers, sounding rather confident on the last couple of words as if he was speaking some kind of truth. It hurt you to see his confidence so destroyed, he wholeheartedly believed that he was at fault. That he didn’t deserve to receive love. That he didn’t deserve to come back home.

“hyunjin,,, i know i can’t change your mind but maybe,,, or- i hope you believe me when i tell you that me, stays and all the boys are ready to give you unconditional love because you deserve it”

The male stayed silent, now swiping his thumb across your knuckles, sighing loudly.

“can you cuddle me?” he asked like a small puppy asking for treats, pulling back the hand that rested on yours in order to lift the duvet that had a white covering. You smiled, first popping your head in to see a barefaced Hyunjin, eyes puffy and dark circles down to his cheekbones. He looked as if he hadn’t slept in days, face painted with worry.

You nuzzled your entire body close to his whereupon Hyunjin closed the gap in which you had climbed through, wrapping his hands around you and closing his twinkling brown eyes, rubbing the tip of his nose against yours. You felt your face get warm, your broken heart fuzzy. You loved him but he didn’t see that love for himself, constantly pushing away any type of recognition or acknowledgement because he ‘wasn’t worth it’ as he so often stated in his own words.

You proceeded to wrap your hands around him as well, capturing him in a cozy embrace under the stuffy covers that let tiny specks of light through, illuminating his face just enough for you to see. The rest of the night the two of you stayed like that, in each others arms, comforting him without words. You didn’t know if he appreciated it but it was the least you could do.

Hyunjin can do anything he sets his mind to. He was your ace, your multitasker. But the one thing he couldn’t do is accept his greatness. He can do anything and one day he will find his way home.

#stray kids fluff #skz fluff #stray kids drabbles #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #skz drabbles #hyunjin fluff #hyunjin x y/n #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x you #stray kids hyunjin fluff #skz hyunjin fluff #stray kids fanfic #skz fanfic

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entishramblings · 3 years

Text

Haze of Emotion [Thranduil X Reader]

A.N: so this was originally requested for Legolas but my brain could just not imagine it with him so I changed it to Thranduil....I hope that’s okay!

Request: @lotr-th-nin-meleth — Heyy! Could you do a Thranduil Legolas x Wife! Reader the reader is asked to go to war to support the elven kingdom, she declines, when Thranduil Legolas finds out he calls her selfish, says something along the lines of "you live in this castle with your ignorant bliss! letting our people die everyday while you enjoy your luxury wines and teas, you say you care but the one time you are asked to fight as well to protect our lands you coward!!", she reveals then that it's because she's pregnant. End it fluffy! thx

Pairing: Thranduil X Reader

Summary: (Y/N) refuses to fight for her kingdom and Thranduil is pissed. However, when he finds out why he understands

Word Count: 725

Warnings: lot of angst, arguing, fluff

(gif not mine)

*all elvish was looked up online from various sources so please don’t come at me if it is not entirely correct*

MASTERLIST | AO3

King Thranduil, cloaked in the finest silver armor and most delicately detailed robes, made his way through the vast halls of Mirkwood. He carried himself high and with poise—power and statues radiating from his form. His jaw was clenched and his icy eyes pooled with anger and fury. It was clear that no one was to stop or approach him. Therefore, every bustling maid, servant, and warrior, who were swarming about the castle in preparation of war, parted ways for the angry King.

Although he was blinded by anger, his feet were able to guide him to the person it was to be inflicted upon. The wooden door to his chambers swung upon under his forceful touch, startling his wife.

(Y/N) sat upon a chair in front of beautifully crafted vanity brushing her (h/c) locks into cascading satin. However, the calmness within her soul left her as soon as she saw his expression.

“Meleth Nin, man na- oth- (My Love, what is wrong)?” She swallowed dryly as fear encased into her heart, “Na ed Legolas? Man lúda- an est? (Is it Legolas? Has something happened to him?)”

She stood up, awaiting his answer, but that is not what she received. Thranduil advanced closer to her with an intimidating nature. Speaking the common tongue he hissed out, “It is not Legolas. It is you.”

A frown edged across her face. “Me? What have I done?” She questioned with offense.

He ground his teeth as stinging words tumbled from his lips, “Before we wed you were one of the best warriors in all of Arda, yet you refuse to fight for us now?!” He began to pace the room in anger, “All you have done for this kingdom the past month is deplete our resources—food, drink. Will you give nothing in return?! Has royalty made you weak—a coward?!!��

(Y/N) took a step backwards as shock, surprise, and irritation grasped her heart. “How dare you say that to me! How dare you!”

Her words were fueled with anger as she slipped back into sindarian, “Dôl gîn lost! Ego, mibo orch, -idë kuu`datto! (Your head is empty! Go kiss an orc, you bastard!)”

Thranduil ground his teeth, “Mibo nin— (my head—)”

She cut him off, “Nányë di hên! (I am with child!)”

The King froze in complete utter bewilderment as silence encased the air. (Y/N) could see the emotions morph and twist upon his face—shock, fear, regret, happiness. It was a long moment before anyone spoke for the air was stilled with electrifying intensity.

His voice came out a whisper as he repeated her words, “With child?”

(Y/N)’s response was a quiet nod.

Thranduil turned from her for a moment, before staring into her gaze once again. “Mine?” He questioned in another low whisper.

A small smile cracked upon her face as she snorted in response, “Of course it is, you idiot.”

The blonde-haired king rotated once again so his face was not towards her. Remorse soaked his heart as his boiling words came back to him. This time, his voice was soft when he spoke, “It seems my head truly is empty. I should....I should have noticed—I should never had said such things to you.”

(Y/N) moved towards him and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, “Thranduil—“

Yet he refused to look at her. He pulled his form from her grasp. “What have I done?”

(Y/N) called to him again, “Thranduil, please look at me.”

“How can I?! I don’t wish for you to gaze upon me after I disgraced you so.”

She shook her head and clutched his arm, forcing him to turn towards her. (Y/N) grasped his cheeks in her hands only to be surprised by the moisture that trailed down from his eyes.

“Oh, Meleth Nin (my love)....”

The King gazed down upon her with a wet gaze of regret, “How can you ever forgive me?”

(Y/N) did not answer. Instead, she pulled his form into a tight embrace. The two stood there for a moment, encased in a haze of emotion. Thranduil burred his head into her neck as his arms snaked around her waist. He held her close as she drug her fingers through his hair.

“It is forgiven, Meleth Nin (my love),” She whispered.

.......

Everything Tag: @sokkasdarling @scxundress @quilledinkpen @hufflepuffinblr @lea----b @aredhel-of-gondolin @princecami @the-fandoms-georgie @jazziwritestolkienprimary @swimming-in-stardust @elvish-sky

Thranduil Tag: @tiefliing @veilfirxs @moriamithril

If you wanna be on a taglist lmk!

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theplanetprince · 2 years

Text

Shrodinger’s Adolescent 2.0 || Ch. 16

Fic: AO3 || FNN

Fandom: Danny Phantom

Rating: Teens and Up

Word Count as of update: 112.7k~

Relationships: Dash Baxter/Danny Fenton, Sam Manson/Tucker Foley, Ember Mcclain/Ghostwriter

Characters: Danny Fenton, Dash Baxter, Sam Manson, Tucked Foley, Cujo, Johnny 13, Ghostwriter, Sidney Poindexter, Mr Lancer

Additional Tags: Slow Burn, Slow to Update, Canon Rewrite, Post-Reality Trip, High School Setting, Fake Dating (Kinda), Unrequited Love, It's requited but they're dumbasses, one-sided attraction, fluff, I know the content warning is extensive, but I promise there's fluff, tooth-rotting fluff, Danny Fenton has PTSD

Content Warnings: Sexual harassment, mentions of death, mentions decomposition, cosmic horror, environmental horror, implications of domestic violence, implications of violence against women, insects, breaking and entering, obsessive behavior,

Chapter Summary: Danny grows increasingly impatient with Ghostwriter’s antics and his refusal to leave his home. Though the guy can’t be all that bad, after all his roommate Ember McClain is worse, running her own babysitting service inside the manor.

Author's notes: ANOTHER LONG BOI CHAPTER-- COME GET Y’ALLS DINNER. Heavy ship content towards the latter half of the chapter but you have some plot to get through first. I’m sneaking vegetables in with your brownies. -Voorhees 🍩

[Reblogs > Likes... Thx]

Danny wasn't having much luck with the residents of the Ghost Zone. Ember and the ghost boy had been verbally sparring for the better part of an hour. The argument boiled down to—

'Why won't you let me see the Ghostwriter?'

'You can't.'

All the while, Youngblood sat on the couch and focused on his finger reading. He occasionally interrupted the bickering pair needing assistance sounding out a difficult word before shuffling back to the sunroom.

Ember's attention instead lay in trying to locate Youngblood's other shoe. She floated around the ground floor with rapidly vanishing patience while Danny stayed at her heels.

"Ember, I am not leaving until—!"

"I heard ya the first time, sparkles!" She roared, her hair bursting into a blue typhoon of flame, "Trust me, Walker is way scarier than you baring your fangs— Believe it or not! We have priorities outside of you."

While usually, Danny would flinch at someone raising their voice, he used his thumb to feel his canines. He had no fangs, not the kind of fangs Skulker, Ghostwriter, or… even Vlad possessed.

The rockstar rolled her eyes, "Oh please, baby pop; it's a figure of speech."

The puzzlement on his face only seemed to delight Ember. She rose from where she was searching—McClain continued to tease, "Is that why you're here? You think the lore keeper of the Ghost Zone has nothing better to do than to answer all your burning questions about the changes you're going through?"

She gave a haughty laugh, "Get real."

This was worse than a tech support helpline— at least What The Tech wouldn't make fun of him in an accurate way. Fists becoming intertwined with ivory hair, Danny exclaimed, "You know why I'm here!"

"Do you?" The pop ghost tilted her head, “Do you know why you’re here?”

Youngblood knocked on the door frame separating the sunroom and the library. Seven times exactly.

Ember stooped down again, opening her arms, "What's up, little man? Did you pick the books you wanted to take home?"

The boy wiped his nose on the back of his hand and presented a thin hardback novel with an illustrated cover of a ship. The title was in cascading, flowing, and delicate calligraphy. Robinson Crusoe.

She smiled.

"Um, that's not what—I just wanted to say that…" Blood twiddled his thumbs, "I was playing in Mr Writer's office, and I may have lost my shoe there…"

Danny squinted at this, "Je-sus, How old are you, kid?"

Ember shot the teen a disapproving glare.

The little ghost counted out on his fingers to the number eight, looking down at his hands. He muttered, "Give or take… like a bajillion years."

The Phantom nearly guffawed.

Ember cut him off, "That's okay little dude; Danny was just about to volunteer to get it."

"If that means I can see Ghostwriter— then fine! I'll go get the kid's shoe." Danny spun on his heel towards the stairs, though his wrist was grasped by McClain just as quickly.

She warned, "You can't just go up there—"

"You've established what I can't do just fine," Danny shot back. He thought about taking a swing at her, but Sidney's nasally voice picked at his brain stem. Doing his best Jiminy Cricket impersonation.

"You need to do something first." The way her tone changed when speaking to him wasn’t that much different from Youngblood— though one could argue it was more passive-aggressive, if anything.

After all, that’s all Danny was to these ‘people.’ If he could even call them that. Danny was some precocious yuppie that only wanted to keep his town safe. At least that was the sanitized version of events. Danny didn’t think he and his adversaries were anything alike. Though, isn’t everyone realistically between a stage of life and death at any given time?

He wrenched his wrist from her grasp, "Like…?"

Shifting her jaw towards a table nestled between several bookshelves lined with threateningly large tomes. On this table, there lay a face open book; its pages were a bit weathered around the edges that they no longer possessed a crispness. Yet— the paper was so white and pristine it was nearly reflective of the central light in the Ghost Zone.

Danny was hesitant to call it a sun. Because the sun was a star, it also had cycles based on the rotation of the earth. The Ghost Zone was not the earth— it wasn’t a planet. A planet was, by definition, a near-spherical object that orbited around the sun and had enough centralized mass to overcome rigid body forces. The Ghost Zone didn’t have a shape, but it did have edges. It was a formless being, sometimes organic, sometimes not. It was a madness-inducing M.C Escher gallery. It surrounded you on all sides—mathematically perfect and straight, yet were inherently discomforting to view like Relativity. And like the self-portrait of the artist in question, the denizens of this ring of hell seemed to be too sharp, jagged, and crooked like the hairline fractures on the surface level of glass.

Planets, biomes, ecosystems didn’t have consciousness. They didn’t have a pulse one could identify like you could identify. What Danny couldn’t call the Ghost Zone was a vacuum. Matter couldn’t survive in a vacuum. What illuminated the viridescent atmosphere?

Arguably, this wasn’t the right time for Jonah to try to diagnose what whale he was in the mouth of.

“You have to write a story.” She crossed her arms, a bit too satisfied for Danny’s liking.

You’ve got to be kidding me! Danny exclaimed, “With what? I didn’t know I’d be doing homework here too!”

Ember pointed to his closed fist.

There was a pen within his grasp where there wasn't before. The cell was a flimsy cheap thin thing that could be found in a pack of twelve at the register of a drugstore. The kind of pen you throw in the junk drawer because you need pens. His family had these scattered all over the house. They cracked like a glow stick whenever you applied the slightest amount of pressure to them.

"Oh…" he said somewhat flatly, "It's gonna be that kind of day, huh?"

The pop ghost snidely remarked, "They say the pen is mightier than the sword, but wow, that is… unimpressive."

"So, you're stealing Kitty's material now?" The phantom fired back.

Kitty didn't have jokes. Her quips weren't as much as humorous observations but just innuendos and double entendres that would make an X-rated-video star blush. Or cringe, depending on the circumstance.

Sauntering to the end table, before he hunched over the page to begin, he paid a glance over his shoulder, "I'll have you know; my pen is fine."

"Whatever you have to tell yourself, baby pop."

For some reason, this was the last flippant comment to break the camel's back.

"So what kind of story does Ghostwriter want, huh?" Haphazardly he plucked up the book fast and full of malice, "My deepest darkest secrets? My worst fears so he can manifest them and make me duke it out, dungeon-master style?" Danny hissed.

Bending the hardback and causing the spine to buckle, the ghost boy spat, "Oh, how about how I died? Yeah, I haven't had nightmares about that one for a while. Did'ya know my best friends killed me? That's a plot twist! What's it gonna take for Ghostwriter to get his skinny neurotic butt down here for an explanation?! What do you freaks want? My soul? Pretty sure that train has left the station!"

McClain's stare became affixed to the teen. No disdain on her face, just a gradual wash of puzzlement. She regarded his outburst very curiously. Almost dumbfounded by his anger which seemed wholly misplaced. The siren stated, "It's just a story, kid. Whatever you want it to be. Ghostwriter uses it as a sort of guest book. Keeps track of the comings and goings from the manor. You can tell a lot about a person and what they write."

"Mr Writer said I was very, very imaginative!" Youngblood chirped in from the other room.

He wondered what could have netted that reaction but shook his head. Staring at the intimidating blank page, the phantom cleared his throat, “Does it really have to be a story? I’m kinda sorta failing English at the moment— clinging to my terrible two-point-five average—and I’m saving the creative juices for this argumentative essay I have on nuclear energy versus—”

“Hey— babypop, Do I look like I give one ounce of a damn?” Ember picked at her nails before splaying them in a threatening manner.

Right.

Danny swallowed dryly.

Eyes fall back to the empty page. Couldn’t he just punch something instead?

Pen in hand, he hesitantly put the tip to the stark white canvas. He pressed down. He could feel where the point was burying into the page. He exhaled.

“Are you sure there’s nothing else—?”

“Nope.” Ember returned emphatically, departing to the empty kitchen. Having grown bored from this.

Shit.

Resting the book back down on the table, he lingered on top of it. Pen still plunged into the desert that words were supposed to occupy. Danny wasn’t wired for stories like most teenage boys; oftentimes, he got so impatient with them— he wanted closure—resolution. Nothing that made him think. Nothing that made him dwell on his microscopic existence in the universe. No open-ended questions unless stinging a future sequel. There was so much stress in daily life it dominated the space and sucked up all the oxygen to fuel creativity. English wasn’t his thing. To make something seemed like such a burden.

A burden Danny wanted no part in, thank you very much—

Shutting the book, the ghost boy darted to the grand staircase in the entryway hallway— as deftly and quietly as he could, he began to take the steps one at a time.

However, nearing the middle, the stairs began to shift and jolt. There was a mechanism in the staircase that slotted into place, all of a sudden, the steps vanished. Sending the ghost boy onto his chin and back down to the ground floor.

Ow.

Pain centralized in his rapidly reddening chin and through his bottom jaw— See, this is how you chipped a tooth before the elementary winter recital.

Youngblood toddled by to see the unexpected visitor on the ground and in pain. That sight was quite common. The little ghost poked Danny on the cheek with his sharpened claw finger all children seemed to possess. He did this until the Phantom glared up at the boy and demanded, “What?”

“The stairs are magic, dummy.” Blood whispered as though this was secret and not evident. It was amusing to the tot as he began to rack with giggles.

God, I hate kids. Ghost children are even worse.

He was about to say something hardly age-appropriate before Ember’s thick platform boots emerged in his peripheral. The Phantom’s gaze shifted to her. The siren folded her arms over her ample chest, and she was a bit too smug for his liking.

Grumbling, Danny thanked Youngblood for the tip.

The younger beamed before trotting off to gather the rest of his toys.

Ember’s hip hit the archway leading back into the kitchen; she hummed, “I’m beginning to think you have trust issues.”

Parroting and mocking her tone, Danny hissed, “Don’t you have a shirt to go put on?”

The ghost boy reared back and launched himself into flight. He would get up these stairs one way or the other!

Except this attempt was negated as he bounced off an invisible wall. A very prominent thud echoed through the foyer, much like how a bird would hit a window in the early morning. And that’s how you make a migraine worse— He gripped his forehead— “GOD— SONVABITCH BASTARD!”

“Sid was right. You have no concept of patience, do ya?” She craned her head up to look at her intruder, rather unimpressed. The Siren scratched her abdomen absentmindedly, “Hey, be my guest; I won't stop you if you want to concuss yourself into next week.”

“Sid? Like Sidney Poindexter?” Danny winced.

“No. Sid Vicious—” The siren deadpanned, before snorting, “Who the hell do you think—? Do y’know many other Sids?”

“I guess he thinks rather highly of you,” She squinted at the teen.

“I mean… I don’t see it.” Ember admitted with a shrug, “But the dipstick is just a pushover like that.”

One had to speculate if Blood inherited his tact from his babysitter.

Shoes landing on the floor, Danny was losing the battle to a house. Hard day for his ego.

"You choose to pull your own teeth." Her hair seemed to flicker at his hesitation. Her frozen fire turning skeptically, she took out another hair tie from her torn jeans pocket— taming her hair into a chaotic flaming bun. McClain tutted and pointed to the book behind him, "That's why you don't have fangs."

She sighed, "You get in your way,” Concluding her assessment.

How many times have I heard that one?

Hardly humbled, the phantom figured it would be easier to take the path of least resistance. He stalked back to the table and hunched over it.

Ember watched as the ivory-haired boy agonized in silence for a few moments. Of course, making it way harder than it needed to be. She had to wonder what the Ghostwriter would make of this performance. Her thoughts drifted to him. Up there… alone. What did he think of her now? Could he stand the sight of her? That typewriter was the thing he managed to take with him into the next life. It meant the world to him.

Because it was his whole world, she leaned the side of her head on the archway and pursed her lips.

It was ridiculous to be jealous over… an object. But Ember wished she could capture his attention like an ink ribbon. McClain wanted nothing more than to have his hands resting at her sides, instead. Ember was so used to breaking things on purpose. When was she supposed to learn to fix? When was she supposed to find the time to heal what she hurt?

Stephen had so little after all. He would never say so out loud, but he had to be angry— or worse… disappointed.

Or maybe, it wasn't about her at all. She simply was craving a place in the narrative.

From Danny's shoulder, he scribbled line after line. Hurriedly scrawling along the length of a page and like a bullet from a gun. The teen scratched through the first page and stamped the final period in place.

Irritated, the ghost boy chucked the book in her direction. It went through her stomach. The sound was like a sheet of metal warping on itself was punctuated by the hardback hitting the dusty checkerboard tile. Ember was unphased by this reaction; in fact, she yawned. Her thoughts were preoccupied with her roommate.

"There. Done. Bye." Danny said in a single breath before vanishing upstairs.

It wasn't in a tsunami's nature to fix things. It wasn't right for a flood to feel necessary. Yet after a storm, when the sun broke over the aftermath—when the landscape was so fundamentally changed— there was an eerie stillness. A new kind of silence. How do you defy nature when the change was nature?

How do you navigate the dubious space between birth and death— and survive? What remains? Your fleeting material wealth? Your legacy? Your fading memory in minds left to erode? Can one persist because they refuse to say goodbye? But which version of you would endure; the typhoon or the tranquil shore?

What do you do after the bough breaks?

Skidding at the top of the stairs, Danny entered into a long thin corridor that stretched on. This floor didn't seem to align with the floor previous. It stretched so far ad Infinium with doors that were exact echoes of each other; It brought to mind a hotel hallway. Yet who could need so many rooms? This didn't seem right.

Light fixtures were holding a dingy green lampshade between every other door. Moths festered underneath the surface and scattered to the walls when the ghost boy approached. They had this pattern to warn predators of a possibly fictitious poison they possessed. The washed-out peach pinstripe wallpaper had the vaguest idea of life in its warm color. However, this feeling was quickly dashed as the phantom caught sight of the tiny holes where the insects fed and burrowed into the wall.

This caused his neck to twitch. It was such a human response to an infestation. Danny rested his hands on his belt and removed a wrist laser. Fastening to his arm, he picked a direction and began to walk.

Licking his lips as his throat abruptly went dry, the half-reanimated child whistled, "Nice digs you got here, Ghostwriter."

He spoke with a shaky smile, denying the tremor in his voice, "You gotta get me the number of your decorator… assuming he's still with us, that is…"

Faintly he could just detect the loud chiming bell of a typewriter just out of his earshot.

Tap tap tap tap-taptaptataptaptap— BRRRNG— RIIIIIP—

Danny took a hesitant stride towards it—

"So you finally arrived? What a twist. I thought my plea would certainly fall on youthful deaf ears."

The voice was righteous and hateful— and hushed. So hushed.

"You didn't make it easy," Danny replied, "Come on out, we're just gonna talk—"

"You bring weapons to talk to your friends?"

The teen smirked with a stiff chuckle, "I just said we were gonna talk; I never said we were gonna be friendly about it."

Behind one of the doors, Danny began to hear indistinct yelling. Muffled sounds of a lovers quarrel. Then a body fell to the floor.

Jumping, he posed the wrist blaster at the door. It whirred to life, waiting for the trigger.

"I said you'll get your money! I promise! I just need mo—" the shrill feminine voice was barely audible.

The man didn't sound like a man, "You scum-sucking WITCH! You thief!"

Bang… Thud…

Taptaptaptap— tap… tap tap…

BRRRRRNG… RIIIIIIP—

Danny approached the door— twisting the faux crystal knob. Only to find nothing behind it. It was just a hotel bedroom with an unluxurious en suite bathroom with two queen beds with cheap scarlet sheets. It was empty. There was no couple.

The only thing to be heard was his breath, hastening and hitching with the primal fear he tried to hide. Was this real?

“I can assure you, Daniel. What you’re experiencing is just… a rough draft I'm trying to recall from memory. It's a bit hazy right now. I’m trying to find the voice of our heroine. What do you think?” Ghostwriter asked, a bit eager for some kind of feedback.

Danny didn’t think his opinion mattered so much.

“I was going for jaded and matured by years of trauma. I’m all I’m hearing is some damsel right now; it's a bit cliche as it is, isn’t it? I don’t want it to be some woman being saved by some big strong man— I think the piece is about… god, what is it about? Tell me when I’m rambling, Daniel; I do so prattle on when I’m in one of my moods.”

Before the phantom even had a fraction of a chance to reply—

“Wait, wait wait— I know how to fix this.”

Taptaptaptaptaptaptap, tap tap tap, tap-tap… tap… tap…

Tap.

The door slammed shut on Danny’s face sending a plume of dust back in his direction.

The fighting started again, things being thrown, the crack of a chair breaking into splinters on the ground. Blows landing. A body hit the closed door— causing the ghost boy to back up. Any illusion of violence now was all but confirmed. What once started as a shouting match now devolved into a fistfight.

They were utterly fictional characters— dolls for the amusement of a sad delusional man, yet none of this logic made it to Danny’s brain as he was convinced more than ever to intervene. That was until two bullet holes exited from the door and lodged into the wall behind the phantom. He felt the hot burst of air from the weapon and the sharp snap of the hammer igniting the rounds. Red sticky fluid poured out from underneath the door, and it kept coming. Staining Danny’s white boots…

It got real quiet after that.

Now with the new advantage of looking through the exit holes from the door— Danny could see the covered face of the woman, shaking at what she had just done. Her curly black hair surrounded her heart-shaped face, hands colored in running mascara and… blood. As though she attempted to resuscitate her partner after fatally shooting him. She wept into her palms.

The Phantom reached for the doorknob once again, though his fingertips barely brushed it before a scraggly man with a goatee yanked open for him.

With beady and feral eyes, the disheveled house-body begged for an opinion, “Now how was that? Much stronger, right? Leaves with a haunting sense of intrigue and—Suspense and— what’s with the look on your face?”

Ghostwriter with his inscrutable— unreadable expression of waning excitement. And in an instant, the hotel set fell away, revealing nothing but moths. Wave after wave of insects painted with wallpaper patterns, and the blood beneath Danny’s feet began to crawl in the opposing direction before flying off. Winged vermin of all manner of sizes and markings floated from their places and vanished—

Still trying to catch his breath, Danny closed his posture at the sight of his bugs. They made his skin crawl.

“What do you mean, ‘what’?” The ghost boy exploded, “You’re the one who emailed me—? It's not like I have time to waste—”

Scoffing, Ghostwriter turned on his heel dismissively, “Nowhere did I extend an invitation to my manor in my correspondence. I simply asked for a reply— I don’t know why I even bother to share my genius with the likes of you.” He dramatically declared the time of death for his burgeoning noir murder mystery, “It’s unsalvagable!”

The moths migrated to the broken window overlooking the garden. The scribe followed them along their path, ensuring they didn’t deviate. The sound of his shoes clicked and creaked across the wooden floors, pairing with the wing-beats, “I don’t need to fulfill my existence by picking the brain of an incompetent child who couldn’t even die correctly. I simply did my civic duty reporting that malcontent Johnathan is— Jonathan—” He ground his serrated teeth, “He destroyed my… my— My connection to the past.”

Squinting through the insult, Danny felt a razor on his tongue that he desperately wanted to spit, “Didn’t know there was grading curve on—”

Eyes falling to the desk having been flattened by the bookshelves which had been upturned and discarded off to the sides. A minimal amount of clean-up went into making it up for guests. Danny distinctly remembered that the office didn’t look anything like this the first time he came here. It was a mess in here, like a robbery gone wrong. All you needed was the chalk outline of a corpse. Added with those little cue cards with large print numbers on them and incriminating items tucked into plastic baggies for the forensic team to analyze later. What used to be a desk was carved ornately with the images of lions chasing after their prey— was a heap of nails and sharp jagged broken wood. The white fleshy inner pieces contrasted the dark swirling patterns of the varnished wood, bringing to mind the intense images of bones tearing through the muscle.

“What happened here?” Danny asked solemnly.

Sullenly, Ghostwriter sighed. He stalked back to the front of the room, sinking into a plush crushed purple velvet lounge chaise. His arm outstretched for nothing, the storyteller buried his face into the fabric and shrunk in on himself. His energy seemed to be dissipating every second he was locked into this conversation.

“Do they teach you anything about inference in schools these days?”

“Fine! Explain it on the way. Let's go.”

The opposition said nothing but gave the ghost teen a suspicious glance reserved for naked cultists wearing nothing but a cardboard suit adorned with one of their psalms on the front and back. Ghostwriter looked down at his curled nose with the same confused revulsion one would after shaking hands with someone covered in a suspicious substance. By all accounts, the idea of leaving the room sounded… unappealing and frankly… stupid.

“I’m trying to help you,” The ghost boy barked, “You—pathetic use of post-consciousness!”

The Ghostwriter barely perked up from his lackadaisical pose, “What a scathing retort from the protagonist foiled by an on-off switch…”

“Get up!” Kicking the chair angrily, gnashing his teeth, “You’re the one who got yourself into this mess, and you’re gonna get yourself out of it, sad-sack!”

“Oh, you want to hear something sad? I wouldn’t wish what you had on my worst enemy. If this were one of my stories, I would have made sure you stayed dead— look at you!— You’re the question mark meant for a meandering philosophical debate. Wandering around with no purpose like a child with a sheet over their head. You’re only aping off the actual despair of those of us who’ve authentically suffered! You confused little creature! You are an insult to life itself!”

Gloves becoming bathed in an ominous green glow— Danny’s eyes became engulfed in fury that matched the Ghost Zone’s atmosphere. Green like a real nasty predator that rips the wings off of moths, simply for the joy of doing so, “THAT’S IT!”

On the first floor, it was business as usual. Youngblood wanted his last little john scene before going home. And well, the pop ghost was willing to oblige. It wasn’t like she had any other plans. Ember spun a broom around, clashing it with Youngblood's wooden sword. They exchanged quips, though quickly Young became upset with the height advantage McClain had on him. He latched himself to her ankles, causing her to tumble over.

"That was pretty underhanded, kid. I like your style." She noogied him with her elbow.

The little ghost stuck his tongue out.

Seven knocks at the front door and the large white frame of the skull-faced warden entered the foyer. Kicking off the dust from his spurs. Matte black cowboy hat in hand, the man greeted, “Ma’am.”

Ember gave a nod, “Ranger.”

Youngblood bounced— pulling himself away from his babysitter, sprinting a path towards the white-suited man, “Daddy!”

“There’s my deputy!” The man got to his knee, picking up his adopted son and corralling him within his embrace.

McClain got to her feet and picked some debris from her jeans, “How’s it out there in the wild world, Walker?”

Stoically he muttered, “I came as soon as I heard the halfa breached the portal. An’ he’s still parked outside… that appears to be the only trouble on the western front.” Walker let his boy crawl onto his shoulders and take a respite.

Rolling a toothpick between his teeth, the warden queried, “Tell me, is the hoodlum behavin’ himself?”

The siren didn’t say anything at first. Trying to hypothesize the motivation behind a living was a bit more nuanced than they could fathom. After all, it had been a while since anyone in this domain had been, in fact, alive. It was honestly a bit frightening how impulsive and impatient the Phantom was. Ember gave a teetering so-so motion of her hand, the dusty light dancing off her chain bracelets as she did so.

“I imagine this is pertain’ to a certain… biker?”

Flashing a coy smile, the popstar rubbed her neck, “And here I thought that big head was just for showing off your hat collection, Ranger.”

“Charmin’ as always Ms McClain.” Walker popped his knuckles, “It is firmly established my jurisdiction ends right as ya’ll leave the boundary to the living plane. Anything that happens out there is not my responsibility.”

Ember sighed and murmured, “You could at least pretend to care.”

“Don’t let my respect for law be mistaken for apathy.” The warden shot back, sneering, “I am not the enemy here. The rules are not mine to change but to uphold—”

“Enforce,” She corrected.

Walker scowled.

“Please don’t fight,” Youngblood whined, resting his chin on his father’s hat.

Patting his son’s leg encouragingly, the warden’s whole effect changed. He attempted to look above the brim of his hat, “Hey, hey, don’t pay us no mind, chief.”

He then looked down at his son’s feet. Walker glanced over at McClain, “Where’s his other shoe?”

The ceiling in the kitchen then crashed into the tiled floor. The air became even more muddled with the aged antiques. Danny Phantom having pinned the Ghostwriter, yanking on his wispy beard. Their bodies glittered with fiberglass and particles of insulation. Thankfully the pair didn’t sink any further otherwise, they’d be rendered to stains that needed to be washed out of the foundation. The Phantom’s fist kept raising and impacting the feeble author’s torso— he was on the brink of tears. Tears that burned his eyes and warped his vision with the reflection of his own monstrous green eyes— Tears that betrayed the anger he felt.

Thinking fast, the author pushed the teen off of him with a concentrated shield made of ectoplasmic energy from his core. The blast sent the Phantom across the kitchen and into the superfluous french-door refrigerator. The metal box warped around his svelte frame— it hurt, yes, but that didn’t matter. It was going to hurt the Ghostwriter a lot more in a second! In a single fluid motion, the ghost boy ripped a door off the appliance. Fueled by nothing other than his own hormonal, irrational rage and adrenaline, Danny shifted to bring down the full force of the door onto the man—

“Freeze, punk!”

Snapping his head towards the warden, Danny quietly and hastily sequestered the fridge door behind his back. He cleared his throat awkwardly, “H-hey… Walker.”

Then seemingly right on cue, a child’s shoe fell from the ceiling and landed in the center of the checkerboard battlefield, the tile now chipped and permanently marred.

The trio of others observed the dust settling. Walker’s hand hovering over his neutralizing handcuffs, Youngblood’s eyes blown wide in awe of Danny’s strength, and Ember… Ember just looked unsurprised but infinitely more tired.

—

The Fenton speeder's cabin remained entrenched in silence. Thank God. Ghostwriter was enamored with watching the Ghost Zone pass the vessel by. He claimed to get motion sick, but it didn't dissuade the ghost poet from pressing his face against the glass as if he was an animal being taken from his natural habitat. Which upon further consideration… seemed like an apt description. Danny had initially offered to let Stephen travel via the Fenton thermos with Cujo. Unsurprisingly, no one at the manor went for that.

Add dogs to the list of things Ghostwriter was afraid of.

The vessel rocked and rumbled occasionally, yet rhythmically enough to be soothing. Danny sat behind the wheel, occasionally pinching his own leg to keep himself awake to diminishing effect. The numerous floating doors in the emerald sky loomed over their heads. The void kept chattering. Finally, the ghost boy broke a question into the air, "So, your name is Stephen?"

"And your name is Daniel." The Ghostwriter tirelessly rapped his black claws on the armrest. Rubbing his sharpened ear on his wool-clad shoulder. Even natives to the Ghost Zone weren't immune to the churning calls and wailing. The doors that dotted the sky like stars emitted these noises, that you could almost ignore if you didn’t think about them.

"Uh, right," the Phantom stared ahead into the empty road occasionally choking on the wheel to reroute around debris, "I'm not sure if anyone else already briefed you, but you can't call me 'Danny' outside of the Ghost Zone."

"That is your name isn't it?"

"My pare—they don't…" Danny closed his eyes, dourly stumbling over himself, "They can't— I'm supposed to be a bad guy, so it's important that I-I keep up—I keep up the image."

Shifting in the seat, it was uncharacteristic even for Stephen, but he felt… sorry. For Danny. The Ghostwriter felt sorry for another person besides himself. Disgusting. He held his bruised side— the flat-liner got a couple of good shots in there. Tonguing at a tooth— one of his molars must’ve been cracked in a fall. Though now he idly toiled away at trying to straighten his wildly bent frames for his glasses.

No child should think of themselves as a villain. Even one as annoying as the Phantom. There was shame in how the ghost boy spoke about himself.

Quid pro quo. The older specter found himself saying, "I can oblige."

After a few demur but equally grateful thank yous, Danny took one hand off the wheel and rested a fist against his face. His eyes became half-lidded.

Trust, like that of the existence of ghosts, was intrinsically dubious. Trust was something you gave with little hope of return. With each pass, it killed you that much more. Numbness shadowed betrayal, to make it easier to suture wounds up one would suspect.

“So who were you before you wound up here?” Danny had to keep himself awake, and not fall victim to the lull of the perpetual motion of the drive. In the learner’s permit manual, it was called highway hypnosis. He more than likely would forget whatever it was Ghostwriter would answer.

"Stephen H.G Phillips," He stated pointedly. The older specter crossed and uncrossed his legs several times unable to find space in the cramped tin-can vehicle, "You've never heard of me?"

To humor him, the Phantom offered, "That's probably for the best. Usually in class we just study old…" he was trying to think of another word for, 'racists' but nothing was coming to him.

"I'm certainly not old enough to be studied." The poet concluded, before poking at a dial on the dashboard, "How long ago was nineteen-eighty-six?"

Tensing again, Danny exhaled sharply. Ghostwriter had to have been in his late twenties. The way he spoke with a stilted Edwardian drama, had thrown the Phantom off. If Kitty was someone's fun aunt, then Ghostwriter was the neurotic divorcee feeding stray cats next door. Stephen would have at least been fifty. He could have been fifty. The crack in Ghostwriter's glasses caught the light, causing the pilot to squint.

Stephen was offended by the boy's reluctance to answer, “Don’t be fooled into thinking that death isn’t a natural part of life. I’m quite aware I’m dead. I just don’t know for how long, you see." He then guffawed, "There’s never no-vacancies in a cemetery.”

"Has anyone ever told you that you're a delight to be around, Stephen?" Danny couldn't help but press his foot harder on the accelerator.

The older ghost under his breath the same dreary mantra he had been for the past several minutes, "The worms crawl in and the worms crawl out…"

It was at this point Danny wished his mom didn't talk his dad out of installing a radio in the Fenton Speeder. Granted there weren’t any stations to pick up, but the white noise was infinitely better than Ghostwriter’s mediocre melancholic melodies.

Next to them, giving them an escort was Walker and Youngblood on a pale horse with black spots on its haunches, the warden had leaned off his saddle to knock on the window, catching Danny’s attention.

Through the glass, the Phantom was able to make out the sheriff’s gravelly voice, “End of the road, punk. Stay safe out there.”

Ember who had been flying and keeping up their blistering pace also chimed in with a very graphic gesture of dragging her thumb across her throat, “If Stephen comes back with one hair out of place, they won’t be able to recognize your corpse, babypop.”

“Happy trails, Mr Writer! See ya, Danny!” Youngblood waved from his father’s lap.

Nervously, the Phantom waved, before guiding his vessel towards the giant black tunnel that led back to his family’s lab, the basement of Fenton Works. The opening of that wormhole was swirling like the choppy currents of an ocean and rattled the vehicle like a capsule returning to earth’s gravitational pull. This was always the tricky part—

The dashboard lights flickered and the alarms went off dying the cabin in an array of colors as well as the pressure in the air changing significantly with a pop. Danny fought the stuffy feeling in his ears, wiggling them by the lobes like he had just removed his head from the deep end of a pool, as well as keeping both hands on the wheel as the vessel would want to veer in any direction it could. Stephen meanwhile was hyperventilating.

Did he know he didn’t need to do that?

Didn’t seem like a good time to bring it up.

In anticipation, Jasmine stood in the glow of the portal. If she stared at it harder maybe--

It could be her straight-laced personality, but Jazz did not like using her parents' equipment without their permission. Especially the portal, it made her skin pimple and her head pulse.

Call it premature paternal feelings she had to develop in her folks' absence, but Jazz didn’t enjoy sending out her brother into the unknown while sitting on her hands.

It was the sense of complacency.

She had to be there for her brother because her parents couldn’t be. Jasmine didn’t blame her parents but… Danny’s condition was one of her worst fears come to fruition. She was quite anxious on her own and she didn’t think she would be competing with her once aloof younger brother.

Life was a lot easier when all she had to do was make stove-top ramen for the kid and add canned chicken. To make sure he got his math homework done and his night light was plugged in.

It turns out after the accident Danny didn't get a compilation of his greatest hits. Once the electricity connected with his skin and down to his nerves, all the youngest Fenton saw was black.

Jazz remembered that he was afraid of the dark for the longest time. She was unsure at what age she stopped checking for closet monsters. It was a blur. Suddenly Jasmine was in the kitchen trying to decipher boxed macaroni at age seven, and now she was here. In a blackout she created, making whoever was on call at the power company awfully confused.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN? 'IT'S OUT OF YOUR CONTROL.'" Mr Fenton was furious that he had to halt production on his latest and greatest. Not to spoil it, but the working title was 'the Fantastic Fenton Ghost Hot Dog Griller.' With the added attachment of a bun warmer.

Pocketing a yellow knob into her hand-me-down bell bottoms, Jazz kept her eyes on the swirling of the portal.

There was this part of her stuck between regret and bargaining. She racked her brain constantly. Where was she during Danny’s accident?

What was so important?

Wasn’t Jazz supposed to protect him from monsters in the closet and keep him standing up right after every fall?

So, why couldn’t she remember? And why did it eat away at her every time he took off?

Without warning the blunt and wide end of the Specter Speeder came in skidding. Yelping, Jazz hit the deck. The blowback sent her body towards one of the cabinets with a hearty thud. Ow.

The seal of the cockpit was broken with a sharp hiss of the hydraulics and instantly sprayed with disinfectant mist. Danny exited the vehicle, "Sorry about the rough landing, Jazz."

“You’re lucky Mr Lancer didn’t keep me long or you would have been totally up a creek without a paddle!” She nursed the back of her head, it was still tender to the touch.

“Good god I think I’m going to be ill.” The Ghostwriter emerged from the cabin only to falter and trip on the dismount.

Jazz perked up, “Wh—who said that?”

Danny stepped down from the wing of the speeder, tearing his attention between his sister and the ghost poet. His head still reeling from reentry, the ghost boy snapped his fingers to remember the plan, “Uh, this is Ghostwriter, er— Long story short I think he may be able to help us track down Johnny.”

“May be?!” The elder Fenton exclaimed, “You’re banking on bringing a ghost into a house full of trigger-happy phasmophobics on a ‘may be’?!”

“Yep.”

Groaning, Jasmine finally stood up, slowly but surely rising to her feet, “I sure hope you know what you’re doing…”

At this Stephen howled with laughter, “Oh yeah, he knows what he’s doing.”

“Is he invisible?”

“Intangible, darling.” Stephen’s voice now floated around the beakers around the back wall near the stairs.

Danny sighed, before motioning towards the general direction Ghostwriter was in, "I was afraid this might happen-- see because he's never left the ghost zone he's never had to exercise his abilities out here."

Two pale rings passed over his torso, and his tennis shoes hit the clean sanitized floors of the lab, "It requires a lot more concentration than it looks. Right now, he could maybe appear as a glowing orb on camera. When he figures out how to move, then he's a poltergeist."

"Much like the pupa of a butterfly, poltergeists are a transitional form." It was amazing that despite Stephen being in the compromising position of being a ghost in the home of arguably ‘expert’ ghost hunters, he still had the most pretentious way of describing his predicament.

Danny rubbed his temples, "Dude, don't say pupa-- say chrysalis like a human being."

There was a beat of pensive silence. Followed by a chuckle, "If you could see what finger I'm holding up…"

"Pupa is a pervert's chrysalis."

Rolling her eyes, the elder Fenton irritatedly stated, “Freud would have a field day with you both.”

"Not to worry," Stephen assured, "I've always fancied myself a fast learner. I managed to commit one hundred and fifty years of literature to memory in the time it takes a pimple to fester on your face."

Instinctively the siblings gave each other a glance, before confirming that neither of them was blemish-y.

A conical flask rose into the air, rather precariously. Like a broken flashlight, the Ghostwriter's form rapidly strobed in and out with the fluorescents in the lab. The hum from the electrical equipment became a grating buzz. Channeling power from whatever source he could find. Laboriously, the Ghostwriter declared, "Voila, tres bien, and so forth."

Danny raised an eyebrow, while his sister raised her hands hesitantly for applause. Though who claps for a cheap party trick?

"YOU'LL FIND THAT WE PAY OUR TAXES LIKE ANY GHOST-FEARING AMERICANS!" Mrs Fenton had her heated moment with the power company representative. Don't feel too bad, the power company representative called Mrs Fenton 'grandma'.

The distinct sound of quartz glass hit the floor, the Ghostwriter's glow dimmed. Add raised voices to the list of things Stephen turned wussy willow around.

"Is everything alright down there my little cherubims?" Maddie called from the top of the stairs, switching gears from her customer service 'can I speak to the manager?' persona. She suspiciously asked, "I thought I heard something break…?"

"Sorry, mom, we're good--" "Love you mommy--"

The door shut.

"So, I'll fix the fuse box, you put away the specter speeder, and talk down the parentals after?" Jazz leaned to the younger Fenton, "Kay-o?"

"Okay," Danny smiled, only a little. Sometimes she just said the right thing at the right moment to let him know that he was among friends.

Ghostwriter then began to whine. Broken glass made him think about blood and blood made him think about blood on him-- blood on him-- blood on him-- blood in him-- oh God he was going to faint. Stephen managed to get out, "And, uh, what should I be doing?"

"Right now, just stay out of sight," The ghost boy ordered, "shouldn't be too hard."

"And don't touch anything!" Jazz tacked on as she scanned the lab for the dustpan.

They certainly had their work cut out for them.

—

If you were to ask Danny Fenton a week ago about how the inside of Dash's room looked— he would have probably said it shared a similar aesthetic to sitcom sound stages where all the mess was completely manicured and fake. A dedicated stage right and left and a revolving door of absurd side cast that made guest appearances. Right down to the divide in the center of the room to face an audience. Every piece of furniture is angled to the camera. A facsimile of the habitat the average American red-blooded teenage male thrived in. It was like Dash was always on exhibit anyway— it wouldn't exactly be surprising.

The walls were approachable easter pastels, the floor was some inoffensive neutral colored carpet, to avoid clashing with the important objects in the frame.

He expected posters for whatever top forty band was popular. Scattered sports equipment across the floor, baseball gloves, and mouth guards littering the top surfaces of dressers. Yet if Danny were to pull open any of those drawers, he'd find them empty. He didn't have much in the way of imagination. His cynicism would only allow him so much after all.

When Danny pictured Dash's room, he saw a snow globe. An idealistic fragile little thing, that could entertain you for a few minutes with its detail, before inevitably being forgotten to a shelf off to the side.

However, the reality of it, Dash Baxter's room was this narrow shoe-box style space. More than likely it was a walk-in closet converted into a small bedroom. It was an aloof shrug. It was something made out of sheer desperation, years ago that no one bothered to update. It was claustrophobic. You could stand in the center, and nearly skirt the stucco walls with your fingertips. The head of the bed was aligned with the window that overlooked the backyard. The walls were an unassuming, inexpressive grey. This was done in an unprofessional haphazard way because Dash didn't want to explain his bedroom is technically a nursery. Underneath the streaks of paint, you could parse the outlines of stars and moons lining the trim near the ceiling. If you looked closely, that is. Danny didn't want to, for some reason he couldn't.

Guided by the moonlight pouring through the sheer curtains that rustled against his intangible body, Danny navigated the room quietly and quickly. At first, he was careful not to touch anything, but upon his entry, the Phantom misjudged the gap between the bed and desk and bumped a few things out of place.

A box clattered to the floor, its contents hitting the root of the container. The sound of dozens of tiny pieces hollowly impacting plastic. Danny squinted at the label, it was an industrial first aid kit. The other casualties included some loose pencils and a book.

Without any thought, the Phantom placed everything back onto the desk. His eyes then caught on a random open page of sketches. He recognized the subject of illustration. It was Valerie Grey. She was posed casually, from the side, away from the viewer. She was hunched over her desk and focused on what she was writing— in that regard it was rather true to life. The style of the drawing strayed closer to a model example. The light from the window caught on the waxy surface of a polaroid under Danny's boot. The photo was of Val from the same candid angle, though the notable difference was that she was looking at the viewer. An easy carefree expression graced her features. She stuck her tongue out and playfully winked at the person behind the camera. The caption of the polaroid was written heavy-handedly with a fat-tipped marker— but those semi-hollow circles dotted the 'i's. It was freshman year presidential election. The sketch was recollecting the distant memory a few seconds before or after the photo was taken. The signature on the sketch seemed to confirm that it came from Dash's hand.

Danny furrowed his brow in disbelief. The Phantom could hardly draw a stick figure!

The sketchbook was thick with random inserts. Pressed flowers, reference material, more polaroids, papers with other exercise sketches and the like—

Most were anatomy studies more than likely copied from textbooks around the art studio at school. It seemed that Dash's natural style was a homage to silver age comic books or the pop work of Roy Lichtenstein. Something approximating real life, or at least a more entertaining form of it.

With the reason why Danny was even here, completely put on hold. He kept curiously turning pages.

There was a running joke where Kwan was referred to in various drawings as 'salad head'.

A swath of drawings were of various dishes Kwan's family made with photo reference attached to the corners with paper clips. Dash captured the smallest details, like the patterns around the plate, or the steam rising from the fried fish.

Danny had absolutely no motive to continue skimming through the book, but he did. He did until he was greeted with his own face looking back at him, the Phantom nearly dropped the book again.

From the chest up, Danny had been rendered fast, messy linework. Smiling. In the illustration Danny had his thumbs tucked under his backpack straps and appeared to be walking to another class. There was the vague shape of the guiding hand of his sister on his shoulder. Ghosting over his drawn face he couldn't remember the last time he looked like that. The page was annotated as 'the Fentons'. No punchline. No commentary. The Fentons. Like they were just any other wandering inspiration for the secret artist.

Promptly, Danny shut the sketchbook. He didn't enjoy that Baxter held him in his thoughts. Danny was in Dash's head and had no control over the outcome. Just how long was this going on? Every time they swapped homework to grade in class? Did Dash ask his sister specifically to tutor him? When they would randomly bump into each other in the hall? Was that planned? Unceremoniously, he threw it back onto the desk. He dropped into the rolling desk chair in a boneless heap. There was a mass of nerves that occupied the space between his ribs and stomach— it was hell. He could feel the air getting thinner. He could feel the oxygen being pressed out of his body. The mass of nerves occupied a large amount of space with no weight like the pink insulation found in attics. Dread stopped up his throat to reduce corrosion and water damage. His body was stuffed with fiberglass. Incomprehensibly small shards scraped against the lining of his chest.

Why?

Why, was the only question he was left with. Why him? Why now? Why Dash? Why?

It's because Danny wasn't listening. He was thinking—feeling, seeing— but never truly listening. He wasn't paying any attention.

The other question was: Why was Danny still here?

That had a much more complicated answer.

This was different from the occasional times he abused his powers to sneak into the girls' locker room to satisfy a momentary impulsive teenage curiosity. His stomach knotted and twisted with some unidentified need. It was painful— but he kept at it. Like a scab. As if he kept digging, the pain would almost seem worth it. Wouldn't it? What if he kept going?

Discovery wasn't always an enjoyable experience. It was the result of hands smeared with dried blood. Discovery coalesced with relief.

When would this feeling end?

It was then that Danny saw his glowing reflection in the blank computer monitor in front of him. It was older than anything the school used, which was surprising. It was this huge, dense white box with a thick glass screen. It was littered with dust collected on the backs of stickers peeling from the plastic surface. They were the kind of penny stickers with puns written in a glittery font at the front of grocery stores. Of course, there were others, there were stickers of technicolor cartoon bears and cutesy Japanese product mascots. A bit childish for someone of Dash's age.

Danny looked at his own reflection for a moment. His hair was pearly and iridescent, the stray strands floated and burned into vapor. The clock down the hall tick-tick-ticked idly…

The Phantom's gloved hands already found themselves on the computer tower, booting up the PC.

Hello Dash's browser history and instant messages.

Cracking his knuckles and popping his neck, the ghost boy was met with a neon blue password screen that illuminated the darkness. Danny stifled a hiss at the stunning light.

Odds and statistics weren't on the ghost boy's side, by any means. To guess a computer password without the aid of something like a keylogger would leave someone guessing ad infinitum. The letter combinations alone would enter into the realm of thousands. Well, it's not like Danny would get any deader, right? He had the time to kill. Whether that was completely ethical or healthy use of it had been completely tossed out the window he entered from.

The fact that Dash had enough technological literacy to even set a password, should have been applauded. To put it lightly, Dash's room was a catastrophe. Tangled, fraying wires plugged into overclocked power strips, empty Tupperware containers, an array of forks fountain soda cups with moldy bottoms more than likely becoming watery sugary clumps, an overflowing wastebasket of scrapped drawings, overdue homework, and whatever could fit inside. It was a lived-in space. He could practically see Dash walking in, exhausted, from whatever after-school extracurricular—more than likely student counsel—setting down whatever drink he got at the corner store on the way back and letting it blend in with the background noise of his room. Baxter then would remove layers of his public persona in spades. Starting with his book bag, then his jacket. He would sit down at his computer desk, lean back, put his face in his hands, and decompress.

The rolling chair creaked with his weight, Danny mimicked how that would look. He stared up at the popcorn ceiling…

The jock was something a movie buff, going by the posters on the wall. Danny typed some movie titles that came to mind.

Texas Chainsaw, Jaws, E.T, Terminator, Friday the Thirteenth.

All met with a shaking type window and a bright red X. Invalid password.

See, if this were a real sitcom— Dash would have conveniently written down his password on a sticky note placed just out of the frame of the camera. Danny dragged the heavy drawers with significant heft drawn from his shoulder.

With an open palm, the Phantom rifled through the desk drawers for this cliche neon-colored sticky note. The first drawer contained nothing more than excess paper, drawing tools like charcoal, kneaded erasers, and allergy medication. The second was more of the same that the first one couldn't fit, along with bottles of cologne and perfume— the gentle clatter of the glass was almost enough to make him hesitate.

Though really, Danny had committed to this as soon as he knew no one was around to stop him.

The third drawer was one that piqued his interest. It was the deepest, and heaviest one that rattled the metal rail, and the wheels were damaged. The third drawer jerked open hitting Danny in the shin.

"OW! Son of a—"

The sight of a half-naked man on the cover of a shiny magazine graced his sight—

Bodybuilder magazines…?

Under a thick stack of self-esteem crippling body image-destroying magazines, there was a collection of pulp paperback books of varying conditions and lengths. The covers of these books were painted illustrations of oiled-up shirtless men saving damsels, riding horses, or other increasingly preposterous activities to do in differing states of undress. Danny had a spark of recognition, these were usually in bulk discount bins near the front of the dollar store. The titles were also ridiculous, and often just outright stated what the novel was about.

'Kidnapped by pirates'

'Stowaway on a Viking ship'

'Ravaged by Scottsmen'

'The Samurai Prince and the Pharaoh take Manhattan and the same lover.'

What in the world…?

There had to be a dozen or so.

With a brief flip through, the ghost boy found several dog-eared pages paired with highlighted sections. Huge blocks of salacious text had been dyed neon shades of marker ink and annotated, with Dash's shorthand in the margins. Definitely not required reading.

Surprisingly, only one of these novels depicted… two male leads without a notable female romantic interest. The lilac title was in a swooshy, calligraphy-style font.

'The Baker and The Draft-Dodger.'

The cover was of two men, who hadn't lost their clothes, laying on a picnic blanket under a tree. One wore a denim jacket paired with the biggest sideburns, while the second man had freckled skin covered by a conservative pinstriped button-up. Denim jacket was glancing at freckles… in a single look, Danny could understand and feel the longing drawn on the protagonist's face because it was the same expression Dash had when looking at him.

Further delving into the content of the book, it was significantly toned down from the others in the collection. It was yellowed with age—

The front door downstairs opened, the sound of house keys impacting a glass bowl. Sneakers were inbound, jogging up the steps.

Hastily the Phantom threw the novels back into the secret drawer, and haphazardly removed any evidence that another soul had been in the athlete's room. Danny threw himself to the ceiling and remained perched in the corner.

His dog arrived first, the chihuahua's frantic claws clicking and skidding across the floor. The animal slid into the door, using its baseball-sized head to open it.

The athlete came in, throwing his gym bag to the ground. Baxter was loosening up his muscles from a long day at practice. Shuffling his feet, buzzing with leftover energy from the brisk walk home. He was holding another book, this looked to be a lot slimmer. A plain unassuming cover that had the title in a small type. They were stage directions or a script.

Taking off his jacket with a yawn, Dash folded it over his arm and opened his closet to hang it up. Pastel plush animals came tumbling out which almost caused the Phantom to chuckle. Dash waded and nudged them out of the way, before rolling his script. Swearing under his breath, the jock clicked his lamp on.

While scanning the pages, the quarterback began to use a specially installed bar in his closet to lift himself off the ground single-handedly.

It was quite the sight to behold, as it didn't look like it was any great effort on his part. Aside from a grunt or sharp exhale here or there, the athlete kept the motion going.

The Phantom observed, watching Dash from afar. Like he always did. That seemed to be a recurring pattern in their lives, Danny was just always on the outside of Dash's little world. He observed Baxter as he must have worked through seventy chin-ups, and sweat started to bead on Dash's forehead, making his eyes burn.

With his feet back on solid ground Dash maneuvered as if he was going to take off his shirt. It was clinging to him uncomfortably. His eyes lingered on the mirror on the back of his door-- deciding against it. Instead, pulling at the hem, stretching the fabric out. After a few threads popped, he ceased. Baxter balled up his fists with the end of his shirt. Blinking rapidly. He didn't want to look at his own reflection, at his own body. It was odd from what Danny could observe. How for a second when Dash saw himself…there was that look of disappointment in his reflection.

Trailing back to his desk, the quarterback wiped his face of sweat. Under his breath, he muttered a line while scavenging for the page. Scanning the pages with sweat stinging his eyes— the jock was straining to read the small print in the book. Baxter removed a pair of large square glasses from the first drawer of his desk, putting them on. They had thick charcoal rims with smooth vanilla-colored inner temples.

It was like the difference between Super-Man and Clark Kent. Flaws were something that couldn't be replicated, which ultimately made someone infinitely priceless. That's all humans were: imperfect.

If Danny could feel his face it would be flush. He has never so badly wanted to reach out and touch something. It was inexplicable. He wouldn't even know what to do after making that contact. The why didn't matter so much, the need. The need to just-- touch him. To confirm that he was real. He found himself clutching his hands together, so tight, to imitate some kind of closure.

God, what was wrong with me?

"... Now hear this—" Dash read aloud, before clearing his throat. He eased into the line with a wariness. It was Natural. It startled Danny that Dash sounded irritated in an instant. He was speaking as if demanding to be heard for once in his life. Agony coming from being spoken over for too long.

Something Danny never thought could be possible for the jock. Through most of his life Dash either had nothing to say or tripped over his own tongue.

He spoke with an unrelenting hushed precision, "Now hear this, Willy. This is me."

This is me.

Something Dash could never actually say outside the safety of this room.

Baxter repeated with conviction, "This is me."

The second time, the jock took the line hitting his chest. There was a fitful solace in his voice that caused Danny to shiver.

Dash looked so small from up here.

Stop thinking, Fenton. Danny shook his head like faltering through a punch.

"You know why I had no address for three months?" Dash asked nostrils flared, "I stole a suit in Connecticut and I was in jail."

Taking a moment, his face softened. He broke character, Dash then remarked, "It was Kansas… Kansas City. Where did I get Connecticut?"

The quarterback then placed the book open on the floor and began to plank above it, mouthing the words silently to fine-tune the delivery. Dash had returned to his nightly exercise routine.

Johnny wasn't here. Danny was completely lying to himself if that's his reason for staying behind. It was aided by the fact that this was completely inappropriate. Normally Danny didn't have such a loud conscience about this type of behavior. The longer he stayed, observing Dash from the ceiling of the bedroom, he felt weird. His stomach hurt.

Danny, like most teenagers, had a hypocritical relationship with privacy.

Sure, he didn't respect the lock on Jazz's diary. He didn't respect the locks in most places. If Sam wanted to keep him out of her house, she would say something. Actually didn't want to know most of what Tucker told him willingly. This was different. The Phantom was transfixed but painfully aware. If there was a line— it was coming into view again. Floating to the floor, Danny still had to check the rest of the perimeter for it to count as an actual check. The wood creaked under his boots—

Pookie, who had been sleeping soundly in a ball on Dash's bed, twitched an ear to the noise. The chihuahua growled, lifting his head toward Danny. Despite being invisible, animals still had some sixth sense humans didn't have.

Pantomiming the universal sign of 'shut up', Danny wordlessly gestured to the dog. He did not want this to be his impression as the Phantom, some weirdo degenerate who watched people in their homes.

Pookie stared at the ghost boy and began yapping. At first, being aggressive, but then after some hesitation, the dog entered a play stance. Barking and reaching a single paw up to his friend from the other day.

Launching himself from the bed—Pookie hit the ground and grunted. Pinning himself to the wall Danny attempted to move, only for the floor to keep giving him away. Squeaking underneath his weight. This only led to Pookie following the phantom more closely—making attacks on his shoe.

"Go…! Get away!" The Phantom snarled.

Dash groaned, “Pookie, c'mon I can't play right now."

Biting his lip—Danny needed to stay absolutely as quiet as a corpse could be. But the chihuahua had other plans. Since Pookie couldn't get Fenton’s attention by chewing on his footwear, he elected to go find a toy to present.

Pookie sprinted down the hall, using Dash as a launchpad. The athlete collapsed from his position, annoyed but amused like most pet owners were. He rested on his hip, before rising. While Dash's gaze followed the dog out of the room, his body moved to the window. The window Danny was currently in front of.

On the surface Dash had extended his arms to draw his curtains closed, seeing that Pookie might have gotten hysterical over a squirrel. Though in reality, Dash had stuck his arm straight through the ghost boy's chest.

Danny sucked in a breath—

It didn't hurt. Was it weird that he wanted it to? To feel something, to tell him that this was wrong?

Normally when Danny hit a dead-end chasing down a poor decision, he would redirect. Or give up. It was usually the latter. He put one foot in front of the other and suddenly he was in front of the computer again. This was no longer an impulse, it was a compulsion for information. Hands trembling with adrenaline. He had to think— he had to think—

They were more alike than different so—

What password would Danny use?

Danny Baxter

…

The loading wheel animation briefly froze as if it was going to boot up the desktop.

Invalid Password

He wasn’t sure to be relieved or to be offended. With an even slower approach, the ghost boy pigeon typed—

Danny Fenton

…

...

Invalid Password

The Phantom's brow furrowed. He meant something to Dash! Didn't he? He had to. He must've. It seemed now that they couldn't untangle the mess they created, the only solution was to trace it back to its origin and interrogate it. Why did Dash like him of all people? The jock could have anyone he wanted, so why… so why Danny? Why Danny Fenton?

None of it made any sense!

Without thinking or much effort, the Phantom ripped the bulky monitor off the desk and threw it into the wall. Exhausting it to shards of glass and motherboards. It took a chunk out of the drywall too—creating a sizable dent. Sending out of a puff of powdery remains.

Yeah, paint is not gonna cover that.

The chemicals and hormones released when experiencing attraction—love—Oxycontin, Dopamine, Norepinephrine—were associated with decreased appetite, sleeplessness, and extreme relentless euphoria. It was science. And in science, there was cause and effect. There was some semblance of law and order.

But… this?

This all just some elaborate joke? It had to have been, right?

Maybe that was just wishful thinking on Danny's part.

He wanted to be the fool. He knew what that felt like. He knew what it was like to be nobody at all.

But now, he was diving headfirst into something new. Something unknown.

The loose cord from the monitor whipped things from the desk to the floor again. His hands glowing with toxic green energy, Danny just wanted to destroy all of it. The lamp must’ve been lost in the scuffle because a beam of light from the hallway caught his attention first.

Danny snapped his gaze to the creak of the hinges. There was a silhouette in the door frame.

Eyes wide in terror, Dash's line of sight went from the fresh dent in the wall, his computer monitor smashed to bits, to the mess scattered along the floor, the trash caught up in the whirlwind, and finally the ghost in the center of it all.

"Wh-What the hell?!"

The Phantom wondered how his must've appeared. A malevolent entity surrounded by carnage with scleras reflecting and twisting the moonlight like a wild animal. Those soulless green eyes that glowed like embers— yet the room around them became static with a sudden chill. The sound of frazzled wires trying to connect and finish their circuit. It must've looked like something out of a horror movie. To find something so alien— something vague in humanity—encroaching on the place you felt most safe.

Seething, chest heaving, "Why'd you have to go and complicate EVERYTHING?!"

The sight was enough to make a nonbeliever quake with the fear of a god above.

The accusation only caused the living teen to become more confused. His lips twisted into an expression that held back a scream, if only just barely. Dash stumbled back until his spine hit the balcony guard rail, if he were any more desperate to get away, he might have just fallen through to the ground floor.

WHY WON'T YOU LET ME HATE YOU?!

His voice cracked, "P-please, don't—"

The utter helplessness in his words was enough to make Danny halt completely in place. Without realizing it, the ghost boy had his fists clenched and energy pulsated behind the skin of his palms. Danny was blurring his waking and slumbering lives.

Then all at once, the Phantom became afraid. Not of the situation, not of his tormentor standing across from him—but the Phantom was afraid for Dash. Because Danny was in control.

There was nothing to stop Danny from burning one side of the living teen's face with frostbite. He had thought about that specific scenario a lot since receiving his powers. The asymmetry was required. Danny wanted to ruin the quarterback just enough. And that thought was terrifying. It was this near childlike desire to rip him apart and put him back together. To choke the life from blond and suture it onto his own skin— praying that his body wouldn't reject it. That somehow by being terrible people, they were compatible.

Danny wanted to ruin him. It was so much easier to make a monster than to admit there never was one there to begin with. He wanted to ruin Baxter just enough so that everyone could call him by his name but hesitate to do so.

Like a broken bell, the sound would never be exact.

The Phantom took a breath. Shuddering and stuttering, blue wisps exited his mouth. Two. Then four. Johnny wasn't here. There was no need to prolong this.

As Danny glared down at the floor, his joints popped, loudly and awkwardly. Rendering himself intangible he sunk through the carpet and out of sight.

Watching the figure vanish right in front of his eyes— Dash nearly felt his legs give out but had enough sense to hold the balcony railing.

Baxter's parents were gonna blame this one on him, too, weren't they?

#dandash #teddy ghost #swagger bishie #dp #danny phantom #danny fenton #dash baxter #ember mclain #ghostwriter #enemies to lovers #slow burn #fic #phic

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rkived · 4 years

Text

year 22 (m) — jjk

‘‘I knew you’d be standing in my front porch light, and I knew you’d come back to me.’‘

Pairing: childhoodfriend!jk x f!reader

Genre/Tags: angst!!!, drama, a lil fluff, f2l, e2l-ish, pining, slow burn, smut

Rating: M +18

WC: 11.5k

Warnings: time jumps, underage drinking, jk being a douchebag for most of the fic, reader can’t catch a mf break, mention of character death ((no major one tho)). smut in the form of oral (f. receiving), fingering, nipple play, unprotected sex ((wrap it b4 u tap it y’all)), my being called pretty kink making a brief appearance soz

A/N: i listened to cardigan for the first time n had it on replay the whole time i wrote this so ig u should do it too ! this is my first time posting smut on here but who would i be if i didn’t throw in some good angst ? also tysm to @periminkle for being my unofficial beta reader n checking it up for me, she knows i’m constantly looking for her validation n i def wouldn’t post this if she didn’t love it ilu vira thx for being the best ever mwah !!!

You’re five, cowering behind his mother’s legs, sniffing as tears stream down your face. In front of you both stands Jungkook, there’s remorse written all over his face as his mother stares him down with hands on her hips and a look that just screams that this is only the beginning of his punishment.

‘’Apologize to Y/N right now Jungkook, or I’ll have your father have a word with you,’’ she threatens with a stern tone, making her son quickly shake his head no. ‘‘You need to learn how to share your toys.’’

You peek behind her lanky leg and find the slightly older kid looking at you with narrowed eyes, ‘‘I’m sorry, Y/N.’’ He apologizes with a bow, but he’s obviously displeased with the whole ordeal.

His mother sighs and Jungkook pouts at the look on her face. She urges you to come out from your not-so-secret hiding spot and to go back to playing with him, even though you seriously doubt that will do any good to what just happened.

Jungkook’s bedroom door is kept open as he sits back down on his city patterned carpet, you twiddle with your thumbs and stare at the Spiderman poster on his wall. There’s an awkward silence between you two until you feel a toy bump your crisscrossed legs.

It’s the shiny red car he had refused to lend you before, provoking an argument between you two which eventually made you run out of his room in tears as you ratted him out to his mom.

‘‘Wooow,’’ you whisper in awe, taking the car in your hands with so much care, treating it like it’s one of your newest dolls.

Jungkook huffs, crossing his arms as he looks at you with distaste and he’s forced to settle with other boring toys as you giggle to yourself, making the car follow the carpet’s tracks. He learns then to never trust his mother again. If she ever says she’ll bring a new friend for him to play with again, he’ll refuse wholeheartedly.

He doesn’t like sharing his toys, and it’ll probably take him a long time to learn how to.

You’re nine as you hand Jungkook one of the multiple Valentine’s Day cards you carefully crafted the night before with your mother, adding all kinds of pretty stickers and shiny glitter to make each one of them unique. His is different from the rest, though.

You added hearts to the dots in the I’s, there’s a hint of your favorite body splash enveloping the pink construction paper and it fills Jungkook’s nostrils with so much force that he feels he could gag at the smell.

‘‘What do you think?’’ You ask the fourth-grader with a big smile on your face, cheeks tinted with a light shade of red as you see him reading the little message you wrote inside the card.

Jungkook lets out a mocking chuckle, ‘‘Are you serious? You like me?’’ He asks you, but it doesn’t look like he’s looking for answers. Your smile slowly fades away, looking at him with glossy eyes, ‘‘I don’t like you, you’re just a dumb little girl.’’

His card was the one you had invested the most time in and yet it only took him a second to crumple it with his hand, and another five for him to toss it into the trash can near you before he goes back to his group of friends in the school’s playground.

You learn how to hold your tears in then, thinking it’s a great accomplishment and that maybe now he’ll stop calling you a crybaby.

His friends receive him with high-fives and he smiles with gratefulness because they just saw how much of a badass he can be. Once recess is over and everyone’s going back to their classrooms, Jungkook nears the garbage bin where he had thrown the Valentine's card in, but finds it’s now dirty with yogurt someone tossed inside.

He grimaces at the sight and sighs, there’s no way he can save it now.

You’re twelve and you’re the only girl in the treehouse who hasn’t gone through puberty yet. It wasn’t something that bothered you until just recently, when it became pretty evident why none of the boys would even give you a onceover compared to the other girls.

“I don’t know if I want to play,” you mumble after Kim Jihyo suggests playing spin the bottle. You’re the only one who opposes the idea, though you could count Jungkook in given as he just sat there without saying a word.

Park Yerim rolls her eyes, “You’re so boring, Y/N!” The comment makes the rest giggle as you pout at being the designated party pooper.

It’s all fun and games of truth and dares to whoever the bottle lands on and you’ve been lucky enough to avoid the tip of the plastic Coca-Cola bottle to point at you, until it lands on Jungkook who has done a few funny dares so far.

“Alright, Jungkook, let’s make things even more fun!” Jihyo announces since she’s been the one who has assigned most of the embarrassing challenges and questions, “I dare you to kiss one of the girls here for ten seconds.”

The dare makes the boys cheer with excitement and the girls gasp with anticipation, hoping one of them is the lucky chosen one. Your lips part slightly as you stare at him sitting across from you, he’s clearly not comfortable with the dare, but knowing him, he won’t express his current discomfort.

His eyes land on you as you stare back at him with concern, hoping that he’ll speak up to avoid himself the embarrassment. Has he even kissed someone before? If this is his first kiss, you’ll witness it alongside everyone else and you can only imagine how terrifying that must be. Even though Jungkook’s always been a brave kid, you can always tell when he feels under pressure.

“Uhm, I’ll uh—“ Jungkook keeps staring at you and you feel your heart start to beat like you just ran the usual ten laps around the gym in P.E class. Are you about to have your first kiss? With him?

You nod your head absentmindedly, a sign to let him know it’s okay for him to pick you from all the other developed girls who probably have more experience kissing than you do, but it’s okay because you’ve always been a quick learner.

“Yeji,” Jungkook says after what feels like forever, though it’s only been a mere few seconds, “I’ll kiss Yeji.” He adds, removing his eyes from yours and settling them on the girl with the high ponytail and pink colored nails.

You bite your bottom lip hard, breaking the dry skin as you feel yourself taste blood. It doesn’t matter because no one’s paying attention to you and instead they’re focused on Jungkook’s neverending kiss with Yeji.

When you get home that night, you look at yourself in the mirror and frown at your lack of everything. Is this the reason as to why he hadn’t picked you?

You’re fourteen and Kim Taehyung just sent you a message through MSN in which he confesses to have feelings for you. Your eyes widen, rereading the message several times, rubbing at your eyes just to make sure you’re seeing things correctly.

You run off across the street to Jungkook’s house, ringing the doorbell quickly for someone to open up. You’re greeted by him looking at you with an annoyed expression, he had to pause his GTA game to come and open the door.

“What do you want?” Jungkook asks harshly, crossing his arms as he stares into somewhere that’s not your face. He’s anxiously waiting for you to spit out whatever it is you’re there to say.

You calm yourself down by breathing in deep and out, blowing the air right at him, “Does Taehyung like me?” You ask him, making Jungkook’s eyes widen in surprise and his brows to raise.

His reaction tells you that you might’ve just discovered a secret you weren’t supposed to and it only makes your heart beat even faster because if it’s true, then this is a pleasant surprise. Kim Taehyung is one of the hottest boys in the tenth grade and he happens to be one of Jungkook’s closest friends. You think he must know something since you see them hanging out at lunch.

“Uh—I don’t know, Y/N.” Jungkook mumbles, rubbing at the back of his neck, finally looking at you and he feels a gut wrenching punch in his stomach at the sight. “Taehyung isn’t a really good guy, you shouldn’t—“

“What are you saying?” You interrupt him with a question, confused as to why Jungkook was painting a negative picture of his friend. “He was really sweet with what he said, he thinks my eyes are pretty when they sparkle — I didn’t even know they did that!”

Jungkook grimaces and sighs, there’s really not much he can do here. You’ve always been so stubborn, so relentless. No matter how many times life tries to tell you something’s not meant for you, you challenge each and every one of it’s obstacles until you take what’s yours.

“Okay, then what are you gonna do? Date him? You haven’t even had your first kiss yet.” Jungkook reminds you with a mocking tone and you furrow your brows together because, how does he know that?

You stammer, “I-I have! I had it at camp last summer, actually!” That’s a lie, but he wasn’t there so he can’t prove the veracity of your statement. “And what do you care? So what if I want to date him?” You add with anger, not understanding why couldn’t he just support you in search of true love.

The thought of dating Kim Taehyung had never crossed your mind, thinking he was way too out of your league for him to ever notice you. But that confession sitting in your MSN chat now served as a nice feeling of knowing you aren’t as invisible as you think you are.

Jungkook scoffs, “Taehyung would never date you, okay? He’s older than you, he’s cool, he goes to parties and has kissed almost every girl in his grade, do you think he’d really like someone as boring as you?” He doesn’t mean to be so harsh, but you’re just so difficult and impossible to get through.

Jungkook’s used to the trembling bottom lip and the teary eyes that you give him everytime he says something that definitely strikes a nerve within you, but he’s always impressed on how you always refrain from crying in front of him. Last time you did that you were both kids and he probably took the last lollipop from your batch of collected halloween candy.

“Screw you, Jungkook,” you say through gritted teeth, and if looks could kill, he’d be dead already.

He looks at you quickly stomp your way back to your house, only heading back inside once you slam your front door shut. Jungkook enters his room to find two new messages in his MSN.

$$ kIm tAaEhyYyuNG $$: it worked!

$$ kIm tAeEhyYyunGG $$: she fell for it xDxD where did u even come up with the sparkly eyes thing?? that’s gold bro rofl

Jungkook sighs, ignoring the messages and shutting his computer down.

You’re sixteen and you’ve been invited to your first party. Granted, it was Jungkook’s, but he knew that if he didn’t ask you to come you’d probably tell on him with his mom. No matter what age he was, he’d always fear his mother’s scolding.

“Drink this!” Park Jimin says with his beautiful smile and you’re starting to realize why they gave him that very same superlative on the school’s yearbook. You take the red solo cup without any second thought, placing the rim straight to your lips and choke once you feel the liquid burn your throat.

“Ugh—What’s this?” You ask, cleaning the droplets of liquid around the corners of your mouth.

He chuckles, “Fruit punch!” The liquid is indeed red like the familiar drink you’re used to, but there’s definitely something else mixed inside. “Oh, and vodka,” he adds with wiggly eyebrows as he shows off the small flask he was hiding in his sweatshirt’s front pocket.

You gasp and hand him the cup back, “No, I don’t drink alcohol, sorry.” Jimin rolls his eyes and it reminds you of the many times you’ve received this same reaction from your classmates before. Always a party pooper. He’s about to take the plastic red cup from you until you quickly drink the spiked punch in one go.

The boy howls in excitement, “Woo, go Y/N! Another one coming right up.”

Jungkook knows he should be making sure everything’s alright downstairs. If his mother notices there’s at least one misplaced object, she’ll know right away something went down in her house while her husband and her were away for the weekend on an emergency trip to their hometown. Leaving him unsupervised only because they both believed their son was old enough to tend for himself.

But Jung Eunha had dragged him into his room with the excuse of wanting to see what it looked like, but the mini tour had turned into them kissing on his bed and Jungkook is thankful he changed his Spiderman sheets in exchange for some boring plain grey ones. Eunha smells like fresh mint and Jungkook is way into his head to focus on properly kissing her.

It’s not until his bedroom door is abruptly open, slamming against the wall that Jungkook literally jumps to his feet, making Eunha gasp as they both look at the person who has interrupted their awkward makeout session.

“Guk-ah, what are you doin’?” You curiously wonder, a hiccup following right after which makes you giggle. Jungkook’s chest rises and falls with quickness as he notices you look different from the last time he saw you twenty minutes ago when you were talking to Jimin. “Guk-ah, were you—you kissin’ Eunha?” You ask once more after not receiving an answer to your previous question.

“Y/N, are you okay?” He asks in concern, coming closer to analyze your weird state. You stretch your arm out to avoid him from nearing you, making him falter in his place as he studies your expression.

You hum, “Guk-ah, you busy. Sorry,” you apologize in a shy tone, ready to head back down and have more of that fruity alcohol punch you now found tasty, but you stumble and only avoid yourself from falling by holding onto Jungkook's door frame, he’s already reaching out by then.

“Are you fucking serious, Y/N? Get out!” Eunha complains with irritation, getting up from the bed and ready to kick you out of his room, but his free arm stops her from getting near you. “Whu—?”

“Eunha, go back down. I’ll deal with her myself.” Jungkook says as calmly as he can, thinking three’s a crowd and dealing with you wasn’t an easy thing in of itself. She’s about to argue, but he interrupts her again, “Go down, now.”

She rolls her eyes and bumps her shoulder against yours harshly once she steps out of his room, “Whatever, that kiss was shitty anyway.”

He pretends he didn’t hear that and takes you in his arms instead, dragging you to lay on his bed as you cuddle into his favorite pillow and hug it close to your body. How much did you drink? Why did you even do it in the first place? Jungkook knows you’ve never tried alcohol before, which means he’ll be in big trouble if you show up back to your house like this.

When you open your eyes hours later, your head hurts and it feels lightweight when you move it side to side. The room you’re in is familiar, that spiderman poster is still hung on the wall, but there are no more toys laying around the floor; they’ve probably been stored somewhere in his garage or sent off to a donation center under his mother’s demand.

The pillow that you’re hugging smells just like him and any other day you’d hold on to it tighter and inhale his scent like your life depended on it, but you abruptly sit on the bed as you’re reminded of how you got here. The action is not appreciated by your dizzy head, but you look around the room to notice how dark it is and there’s no more music playing downstairs.

You quickly jump to the ground, only to hear a “Fuck, ouch!” from below, stepping on Jungkook’s leg unintentionally. It makes you gasp, looking down to notice the older friend laying on the cold floor, having gotten rid of that childhood carpet of his. His head’s laying on a makeshift pillow made out of a towel and he’s trying hard not to shiver.

“I’m sorry, sorry, sorry!” You quickly apologize, stepping away from his figure as he soothes the shin of his leg you stepped on. “Jungkook, what happened?”

He sighs, “Someone decided to drink like five cups of spiked punch knowing damn well it was their first time drinking alcohol, stepped into my room like a crazy person, and then crashed on my bed like they—What’s with the face?”

“Bathroom.”

Jungkook grimaces while he holds your hair back, you’re throwing away all the liquid you had taken with a few additional snacks you had munched on earlier, “Are you done?” He asks in a tired mumble and you shake your head no.

He feels guilty that you’re in this position. He didn’t even want to kiss Eunha, but she was one of the most popular girls in his grade and he knew that if he turned her down she would most likely put a bad word in with the rest of the girls and the guys would make fun of him for being such a wuss.

That would’ve been better, because after laying you down on his bed he had to go down and tell everyone that the party was over, putting an excuse that the neighbors had warned him and threatened to call the cops. They all cleared pretty quickly, but he knew he was going to be the butt of the jokes come Monday. He even had to call your parents to let them know you had gone home to a friend’s house for a sleepover, which he knew wasn’t totally believable, but it had somehow gotten them convinced that their daughter was alright because they trusted Jungkook to never hurt you ever.

Once you feel like you’ve puked your stomach out, Jungkook hands you a pill accompanied with a glass of water and hands you clothes of his that might be more comfortable to sleep in.

“Good night, Jungkook,” you whisper once you’re laying back on his bed, still hugging the pillow he preferred to sleep with. He makes a sacrifice to make it up to you.

His back is going to hurt by the time the sun comes out in a few hours, but it’s okay if it means you’ll sleep comfortably after the events of tonight. “Good night, Y/N.”

He’s unable to sleep, but finds entertainment in your hanging hand beside his bed. The skin on your palm looks soft and there’s this strange urge inside of him that makes him want to grab your hand in his, but he refrains.

To calm the current chaos in his head, Jungkook finds peace in the light snores coming from his bed.

You’re just about to turn eighteen and your date to the prom is Jeong Jaehyun, who had only asked you out a day before the event because the girl he had initially wanted to take had been asked and he didn’t have a plan B.

Jaehyun is okay, at least he managed to get you a corsage that matched the color of your dress. He even smiles in the pictures your parents take of you both as you awkwardly try to look comfortable with his arms around you even though by then you had only exchanged a few sentences.

The prom’s theme is Summer Nights and you think it’s fitting considering this is the very last event before the graduation ceremony, meaning that you’d most likely never see most of these people ever again. You had purposely applied to a college that was outside of your hometown for that same reason. You’re ready to live the life you’ve always wanted to live, without anyone judging or knowing you.

Your date spends most of the night talking with his group of friends as you’re left alone on your table, looking at your well manicured nails. You knew you weren’t going to get the same prom experience the high school kids on T.V enjoyed, but you at least hoped it would’ve been a little more fun than this.

A tap on your shoulder makes you turn around to see Jungkook trying to loosen the tight tie around his neck. He looks incredibly handsome and you suppose his mother helped him pick the suit out, Jungkook rarely ever wore fitted clothing, so this is one of those once in a lifetime moments..

“Hey you,” you say and he gives you half a smile, wondering why you’re sitting by yourself at an empty table when everyone else was either mingling or dancing. “Where’s your date?” You ask with curiosity, you’re surprised that Jinsoul isn’t trailing alongside him given how she had behaved for the past week ever since he asked her to come with him.

“Retouching her face or something,” he answers casually, “what are you doing sitting here? Where’s Jaehyun?” Jungkook asks.

You shrug your shoulders, “Don’t know, probably talking with the guys of the basketball team. He’s been gone for a while.” Not like you care, anyway. If your conversation with him inside his car on the way to the venue had been any indication of what it would’ve been like for the rest of the night, you’re glad he's not here trying to make any more small talk with you.

Jungkook huffs, thinking he’ll kick his ass if he sees him. He had asked him to invite you so you wouldn’t come alone, and yet here you are, sitting all by yourself while the douchebag’s making a social life somewhere in the crowd. He calms down once he notices how unbothered you are by it, though. You’re a big girl now, you’ve been through too much to be affected by something as simple as this.

“Is there something you wan—“

“Dance!” You interrupt with excitement and Jungkook chuckles.

“I was gonna ask if you wanted something to drink, but—alright, let’s dance.” Jungkook can’t dance for shit, but you took lessons when you were younger and he can still remember how you’d always show him the routines you learned in class. He’d always boo you, but in reality you were pretty good. He wonders why you stopped, he doesn’t recall you ever telling him.

It’s just his luck that once you both step into the dancefloor, the hired DJ stops the up-tempo song playing before and switches to a much slower romantic one, “Alright everyone, I want all the couples on the dancefloor for this one.”

You step away from him with nervousness, it’s couples only after all. But Jungkook holds onto your lower back firmly, pulling you closer into his space. Your eyebrows raise as your lips part, “Uh, s-should we, uh—?”

“It’s just a song, Y/N. You wanted to dance, then we’ll dance.” He tells you with such confidence it makes you feel like this is totally normal and something all friends do. All the known High School couples are dancing together, heads tenderly placed over chests and chins resting lovingly above them. You wait for Jungkook to take the lead because you have no clue of what you should be doing, you might’ve taken dance lessons years ago but you’ve never slowed danced in your life.

Jungkook places his hand on your hip, the touch makes goosebumps crawl in your arms. He pretends he doesn’t notice it as he takes your right hand in his. You stare at the way he delicately holds it like it’s his mother’s fine china. “Place your other hand on my shoulder,” he instructs and you do as asked, your palm coming to rest on the strong muscle.

He’s only slowed danced once before at a family member’s wedding where his mother taught him how to, with her as the teacher. Back then he thought it was incredibly ridiculous, but now he’s sort of glad that happened because he’s the teacher now and you’re now looking at him with your big eyes as you sway alongside him.

You clear your throat, “This isn’t that hard.” Jungkook nods as he stares down at you, noticing how uneasy you are given that you’re looking at everything and not entirely immersed in the moment.

“You look beautiful tonight.” He says out of nowhere, making you look at him like a deer stuck in headlights, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. He had never called you that before.

An awkward laugh escapes your lips, looking away from his intense gaze as you try not to take his words too literally, “Ha ha, that was a good one.” To you there��s no other explanation than this being one of his mean pranks on you.

But Jungkook doesn’t falter both his words and gaze, “I’m not laughing.” There’s seriousness in his voice and you have to look back at him again just to make sure he really isn’t, “You look beautiful, just take the compliment.” You nod and there’s silence between you two after that. You’re digesting the romantic lyrics that the singer is talking about and hope that the song ends soon, because you’ve never been this close to him and it’s starting to feel too crowded.

You clear your throat, “So…”

“So…,” he repeats.

“What are you doing for summer?” You ask him in an attempt to break the tension and wanting to take advantage of the little intimate moment since Jungkook rarely ever lets you pry into his private life.

“I think I’ll train before heading off,” he answers. It was more than obvious he was going to earn that sports scholarship he had been aiming for, he was one of the best athletes on the school; though you considered him to be the number one between them all. “I’m kinda scared, not gonna lie.”

You look at him with surprise, tilting your head to the side, “You’re scared?” You ask in disbelief because as long as you’ve known him, he’s never been scared of anything. This is the same kid who instilled your fear of monsters in a closet after watching Monster’s Inc. together, also the same kid who helped you get over it after he realized you had actually taken it seriously.

He chuckles lightly, “Yeah, I’m just scared about starting over.” It’s interesting how his biggest fear is the one you’re looking forward to the most, but you suppose it’s fitting for someone who has never had to worry about what people think of him. In this town, Jungkook has swam freely without any concerns. Out there, he’s just another fish in the big and scary ocean. “Aren’t you?” He questions, hoping that you’re able to relate to what he’s feeling.

“Honestly, I—“

You’re interrupted by Jaehyun clearing his voice in front of you two, making you both turn your heads towards his direction. You quickly separate from Jungkook and he feels his body lose the warmness you were providing.

“If you wanted to dance, you could’ve just asked. I’m your date after all.” He says smugly and you chuckle awkwardly, nodding because he’s right.

Jungkook wants to punch his stupid face, how dare he interrupt you both when he had been ignoring you the whole night? Why does he suddenly want to dance with you when he’s probably still upset at him for asking Jinsoul to the prom before he could?

“Your date’s looking for you, buddy. She doesn’t look too happy.” Jaehyun adds with a smirk as he takes your hand in his and drags you away from Jungkook towards another place on the dancefloor.

He’s left to stare at the way he holds your hand, and he only hopes he’s doing it ever so carefully.

You’re twenty when Jungkook sees you for the first time since you both left for college two and half a years ago. He’s rendered speechless when he spots you in the crowd, there’s a manly hand around your waist as you giggle into the stranger’s mouth before placing a kiss to his lips.

There’s only so much social media can provide him, pictures and stories aren’t enough for Jungkook to keep up with you. He thinks you’ve changed, not only appearance wise but you seem way more outgoing, carefree, and happy. Did he miss the boyfriend announcement picture? He’s sure he didn’t, he checks your profile almost every day and he’s never even seen him in any of your stories.

A gasp escapes your lips once you spot him, completely forgetting about the possibility of bumping into him given that both your schools were playing against each other that night. You tell Namjoon you’ll be right back and he nods, going back to a conversation with the group of college friends you had made.

You surprise him by jumping into him, arms around his shoulders as you hug him from behind. You let out a shrill of excitement and he blushes as his friends chuckle at the unexpected approach from this unfamiliar girl.

‘‘Jungkook! You didn’t tell me you’d be here,’’ you say once he turns around to face you and he’s able to see you better upfront. You look beautiful and he thinks the Instagram pictures are not doing you enough justice. You’re glowing, and it has nothing to do with the highlighter you applied on your face and collarbone area.

The both of you aren’t able to properly talk until you suggest moving to a different area, Jungkook apologizing to his friends as he explained he needed to catch up with an old friend. They don’t complain and instead shoot him teasing looks and small pervy comments that go by unnoticed to you.

Jungkook listens with intent to your ramble about what you’ve been up to. From your courses, to your roommates, the parties you’ve attended, and even the fact that you handle your alcohol better now. He’s happy that you seem so too, but it irks him that you hadn’t been capable of telling him that you had a boyfriend now. Is there a reason as to why you omitted that important piece of information?

‘‘And what about you? How’s college?’’ You ask with curiosity.

He blinks a few times, realizing you had stopped talking about yourself and was now wondering about him instead. ‘‘It’s fine,’’ he answers with a tight lipped smile, the lack of detail compared to you was astonishing, but even though you were still hungry for more you decided not to pry any further.

There’s fear in revealing that he’s been having a hard time catching up with the rest of his peers. College was indeed fine, but it could be better. He’s settled with the idea that this is as good at it’ll get, some things just aren’t like you expect them to be. At least you’re happy, and that fact brings him comfort.

‘‘Was that your, uhm─boyfriend?’’ He finally asks after a while, both about to head back to your respective group of friends.

The question takes you by surprise, looking at him with raised eyebrows and mouth agape. ‘‘Who? Namjoon?’’ He nods, though he doesn’t know anything about the guy he had first seen you with. You let out a wholehearted laugh, ‘‘Hell no, too many commitment issues with that one,’’ you answer and Jungkook’s forehead creases with confusion.

Why were you kissing him then?

‘‘We’re friends with benefits,’’ you inform him as if you had read his mind. ‘‘He’s a nice guy, though. Also, super smart, he’s helped me with a few of my─’’

‘‘You’re not a virgin anymore?’’ He abruptly asks, disbelief in his tone as he internally screams to himself for thinking out loud. Jungkook expects you to berate him about such an imprudent question, but is surprised when he sees you giggling.

‘‘Duh, silly. I think I lost it freshman year?’’ The carelessness in your voice makes him look at you like you’ve gone crazy. Why are you so lax about this? Why are you telling him about losing your virginity without a care in the world? ‘‘Anyway, are you going to be home for the─’’

Jungkook interrupts you once again, ‘‘Was it with your boyfriend at the time?’’ He asks in genuine curiosity and you sigh, rolling your eyes slightly at him.

‘‘No, it was some random dude at this party I went to. Could you please─’’

‘‘Y/N, are you insane? Why would you give up your virginity to some fucking stranger like it’s nothing?’’ Jungkook’s voice raises as he scolds you about being so negligent about yourself, ‘‘You can’t do shit like that!’’ He fumed, making you let out a breathless chuckle.

‘‘Could you stop treating me like a fucking child for once in your life? I’m perfectly fine, Jungkook. I’ve been doing pretty well for myself without you here, actually. I don’t know why you think you have a say on what I do, is it the entitlement you have of me that you still carry around because we grew up together? Because if that’s it then you can drop it, I let go of my little girl who wanted a friend and was treated like pure shit in return complex a long time ago.’’

He knows you’re right, but he thinks he’ll always have this odd sense of protection over the five year old girl who cried to his mom about not lending her his favorite toy. He’ll always want to apologize to the eight year old girl who declared her love for him with a Valentine’s Day card while he ended up breaking her heart in exchange. He’ll always wish to look for help within the twelve year old girl who witnessed him give out his first kiss to another girl who he didn’t even like. He’ll always feel guilty towards the sixteen year old girl who had gotten tipsy on a spiked fruit punch and crashed on his bed. He’ll always hate himself for not asking the seventeen going on eighteen year old girl to prom when he knew he could’ve, but chose not to in fear of ruining your friendship.

You only wanted someone to be there for you growing up and Jungkook had never been the brave boy you thought he was, always running from his fears in hopes he’d have a wide advantage margin from them. Yet here they are, standing right in front of him in the form of a twenty year old you, and they’re there to let him know that you’ve never needed him, yet he’s always needed you.

He can’t even apologize, he only looks at you with wide eyes as he fidgets in his place. Either you’re both too old now to understand each other or you just realized that you’ve outgrown Jungkook.

Your mouth set in a hard line as you crossed your arms, the night’s breeze feeling colder than usual. ‘‘I miss you Jungkook, but I can’t keep playing this cat and mouse game with you any longer.’’

You leave him behind to go back to Namjoon’s arms, seeking refuge in his sweet embrace as you try your hardest to put on practice what you learned all those years ago when Jungkook broke your heart for the first time, you should be used to it by now.

You’re twenty-one when you’re back in your hometown to attend the funeral of the old lady down the street, the one that always scolded you and Jungkook growing up.

You had been scared of her as a child, but always following along your friend’s footsteps when he proposed playing around her garden. It tugs at your heartstrings even if you hadn’t known the woman well. Her death was imminent seeing as she’d been ill for quite some time.

A taller figure stands next to you as you both stand way in the back of the ceremony. He looks tired and you figure that it’s because of the fact he arrived late into the night, you heard his car’s engine from your bedroom window. Dressing in all black, you notice he bought a new suit. You’re sure that the one he wore for prom no longer fits considering he’s bigger now.

You haven’t talked to each other since last year when you both left off on a sour note. The hurt you felt was no longer present, though. You chewed on your bottom lip as you thought of a way you could talk to him again without making things awkward, but you let out a small gasp once he placed his arm around your shoulders, giving it a small squeeze as he sighed and kept his focus on the service.

Watching the casket be lowered into the ground felt weird. She was a human being just like you, but her existence was a reminder of your childhood. Would it be okay to say that her death meant a part of you leaving with her too?

Once it hits you, it’s Jungkook who consoles you by hugging you tight. Your eyes are too blurry with tears for you to realize this is one of those rare moments where he’s holding you close without hesitation. He lets you ruin his tuxedo’s jacket with your mascara covered tears as he brushes your hair as a sign of comfort.

You know things are back in order when he proposes the idea to go back to the old lady’s porch, for old times sake. ‘‘Will we ever let her rest?’’ You ask him with a small laugh as Jungkook sits on the doorsteps of the old lady’s empty home, opening the bag of candy worms he bought at the grocery store.

He shrugs, ‘‘She loved us, always told my mom how much she missed us running around the street.’’ The revelation makes you smile, hoping it was true. He pats the empty space next to him, indicating for you to fill it up with your presence. Once you do, you feel the familiar warmth of his proximity.

Jungkook seems different and you only hope he’s changed for the best.

‘‘When are you going back?’’ You ask him with curiosity, hoping that he’ll be in town for a few more days so you can catch up with him on a better note this time around.

He munches on one of the snacks, ‘‘Tomorrow morning, I have training camp and can’t miss it.’’ His answer makes you sigh with disappointment, but you nod nonetheless. ‘‘What about you?’’ He asks in return, and you inform him that you’ll stay for a few more days to spend time with your family. There’s silence after that and Jungkook can only offer you the gummy worms in the bag, you take one with a small thanks.

‘‘College fucking sucks,’’ he says out of nowhere and it makes you look at him in bewilderement, ‘‘I hate it there, I wanna drop out so bad. But I’m a year away from graduating so it’s too late now.’’ You see his shoulders visibly relax, like a weight had been lifted off them. ‘‘Plus my mom would kill me if I do so,’’ he adds with a chuckle.

Last time you asked everything was fine. Had things changed or had they always been this way and he was just now being honest with you?

You rest your head on his shoulder and focus all of your undivided attention on him as he keeps rambling about what his life has been ever since he left this town. He’s had bad games, bad grades, and bad girls. But he’s also had incredible games, good grades, and a couple great hookups, and yet he still feels empty, it’s not enough.

‘‘I miss you,’’ he mumbles as he faces you, ‘‘I’m sorry for being such a shitty friend, you deserved better.’’ His apology is genuine and you can feel it in the way his voice trembles, sincerity has always scared him after all.

Jungkook’s never known when the time is right, and he misjudges the look on your face. When he leans down to press his lips against yours, he’s blinded for a mere moment into believing that you wanted to kiss him just as much as he had been waiting.

You abruptly separate from him with wide eyes and parted lips, ‘‘Jungkook, I’m─I’m dating Namjoon now.’’ He can physically feel his heart shatter, the revelation coming out like an old newspaper headline he should’ve read a long time ago.

He lets out a breathless chuckle, ‘‘He got over the commitment issues?’’ The rhetorical question is bitter.

You scoff, ‘‘And what about it? I preferred to wait than to rush into getting my heart broken.’’ Plus it’s not like you were expecting Namjoon to grow feelings for you, the whole no strings attached arrangement was named that way for a reason.

Jungkook looks at you with narrowed eyes and he shakes his head sightly. Old habits never die down, still so stubborn and challenging as ever.

He’s startled as you stand abruptly, fuming as you look at him, ‘‘I don’t even know why you care! Did you forget that you threw my Valentine’s Day card into the trash? Or that you kissed Yeji in front of my face? Or that you let Taehyung date me as prank between your friends? Or that you were making out with Eunha while Jimin kept giving me alcohol? Or that you asked Jaehyun to take me to the stupid prom even though I was perfectly fine going without him or anyone for that matter?’’

‘‘We were just kids!’’ Jungkook argues back at you.

‘‘It still fucking hurt,’’ you counter, ‘‘still hurts, actually. You think that by giving me a measly apology and kissing it better I’ll suddenly forget about all of it?’’ Jungkook knows it won’t ever make up for all those years, but he had at least hoped you’d be willing to give him a chance.

He wishes he could say something else. Explain that he had just tried to protect you in his own shitty way from everyone else or himself maybe, he doesn’t know anymore. He wants to speak up again, but there’s disappointment written all over your face, you’re not angry at him...just saddened.

‘‘Hope you have fun at your training camp.’’

Jungkook watches as you leave him sitting by himself on the old lady’s doorstep. A hand runs through his hair as he feels his eyes water, and he can almost hear a whisper in the wind that asks him why he didn’t stop you when he could’ve.

Jungkook didn’t think that his family coming together with yours for Christmas dinner would’ve been a great idea. You’re cold to him at first and it’s fitting for the winter weather, but as always it only takes for him to sit next to you for things to warm up again.

It’s with the excuse that you’ll run over to your house to grab a new bottle of wine from the kitchen counter that Jungkook trails behind you, both slightly tipsy on the different alcohols your families had offered each other.

Years have passed since he last stepped foot inside your home, you used to visit him more often than he did anyway. It still smells and looks the same; the only difference is that there’s new pictures of you hung up on the walls, updated accordingly to the changes you’ve made ever since you left off for college.

You’re sporting a big smile in all of them, which in exchange makes him copy the action as well. His lack of presence in your life has done you better than compared to when he was around, and if that’s the case, then at least he did something right.

There hasn’t been much said since the beginning of the night, just a simple hey out of courtesy. There’s so much he wants to say, but with no clue where to begin. Another apology is due, though he thinks it’s a little too late for that. He also wants to ask about what you’ve been up to since he last saw you, are you still dating the Namjoon guy you had told him about after he kissed you? If he’s still there, Jungkook rather keep quiet and not wonder out loud to you, he’s sure that it’ll hurt if it’s true.

Growing up Jungkook always mistook your bravery with stubbornness and your courage with relentlessness. You’ve always been challenging, but only because you wanted him to do so too. It’s moments like this that prove him that you’ve always been the stronger between the two.

‘‘So, we’re just gonna pretend like nothing’s wrong between us?’’ You ask, speaking directly to him for the first time that night. It makes him look at you like a deer stuck in headlights, surprised by the sudden question and out of all the years of knowing each other, he feels small under your gaze for once. ‘‘How much time is it going to pass until you want to finally talk things like adults?’’

Jungkook gulps the lump in his throat, his brain quickly thinking of the right thing to say, ‘‘I just wanted to protect you from─’’

‘‘From what? From you? Everytime you’ve done that I end up getting hurt in the end. I’m left to pick the pieces up by myself,’’ you interject with anger in your voice. ‘‘It fucking pisses me off that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you kissing me, I haven’t stopped thinking about you and─’’ A sigh, you close your eyes to center yourself again as Jungkook waits for the final blow, ‘‘and you look like none of this has ever bothered you in the slightest because, you don’t really care about me do you?’’

‘‘I do care about you.’’ He’s sure about it, even though he’s been extremely bad at showing it.

Even though your eyes are threatening to spill tears, you still muster up the last bit of what’s left of your courage to step closer to him until you’re a few inches away. ‘‘Prove it, then. Show me that you care.’’

His brain is sent into quick overdrive due to your close proximity. There’s a slight hesitation because he only hopes that what he’s about to do is what you’re demanding him to prove. He doesn’t care if you’re still dating the Namjoon guy because he’s settled with the idea that it’s okay if you don’t correspond, it’s not like he did the same to you when you were both younger.

Once his lips press against yours, there’s no turning back. He’s waiting for you to push him back and let him know that your heart’s still taken, but you kiss him with such fervor that he knows in that moment that you’re right, it’s better to wait than to rush right in.

It’s no fairytale kiss, though. There’s desperation in the way you chase his lips, as if you were to slow down he’d find a way to escape from you. You grip the cotton material of his crewneck into your small fists, holding on to the fabric like your life depended on it. The small kiss you had both shared last year was nothing compared to this, and Jungkook’s taken aback by your neediness.

He doesn’t know how you manage to drag him to your childhood bedroom without missing a beat, only separating once you both realize you need to catch your breaths, and even then Jungkook can’t have a minute to take just happened in because your lips attach to his neck to get more of a taste. His fingers curled around your arm, sighing at the way your kisses felt like electricity on his skin.

‘‘Y/N,’’ he calls your name out in a breathy tone, but you’re too immersed in your little bubble to even realize it.

Jungkook groans when you bite into the skin of his neck, then blowing over the red mark as you kissed it better. It’s going to be bruise and he doesn’t like when that happens, but he’s not bothered at all if it comes from you. He forcibly grabs your chin so you can face him, looking at him with big eyes, a small pout, and with your chin messed with drool.

It’s then that Jungkook kisses you hungrily, making you feel like you’re in a dream-like state, though you could partially blame the Christmas eggnog for that. The way he bites at your lips and how your tongues clash together is an extreme juxtaposition as to how you could describe this moment. It’s as if you’re floating on air, clouds surrounding you in a heavenly embrace, angels singing in the background every time his hands touch, grab, hold and caress every part of your body. And yet, even with such a difference, it’s perfect because it’s Jungkook. You’ve been waiting for this too long, which is why your hands creep beneath his crewneck, touching his tonified abdomen tentatively and enjoying the way goosebumps arise on his skin at the sensation of your fingers trailing patterns wherever they caress.

It’s only fair that he pays attention to yours as well. Jungkook’s lips trail from your mouth onto your jawline, planting wet kisses on each space until he begins sucking on the skin of your neck, making you moan in the process. He chooses then that his new favorite sound is the way you voice out the pleasure he gives you. ‘‘Hurry up,’’ you say, ridding the bottom of the crewneck higher over his stomach, making him shiver at the sudden change of temperature.

Jungkook chuckles before completely getting rid of the material, ‘‘Calm down,’’ he sighs as he gives you a sweet smile, ‘‘You know our moms could talk forever.’’

You ogle his chest, admiring the way his training camps have obviously done wonders to his body. ‘‘It’s not them I’m talking about,’’ you correct him with a teasing smile that only makes his grin grow wider, chuckling at your impatience. Jungkook lets out a small gasp of surprise when your hands grasp at his shoulder blades, turning him around so you can back him until the back of his knees hit the edge of your bed. It’s funny how he lets himself be bossed around by someone who’s way smaller compared to his frame.

Jungkook finds leverage on his elbows splayed against the mattress, your knees resting on each side of his hips as you leaned into him and kissing him just as widely as you had done before. Jungkook could fill just how quick things were escalating, especially the way his crotch area was beginning to become a problem he couldn’t possibly control at the moment, not with your own being directly on top of it. In any other situation he would’ve apologized with an awkward laugh, but his breath hitches once your hips start grinding over him.

His hands make their way on the inside of your knitted sweater, provoking goosebumps on the exposed skin. You let out a shaky laugh, halting your movements so you can quickly get rid of the fabric as Jungkook’s eyebrows lift in surprise at your haste and then at the sight of your bra covered breasts. His hands are still steadily placed on each side of your waist, only brought up because your own had redirected them over your breasts, hoping he gets the message on what you want him to do now.

Jungkook hesitantly squeezed one of the round globes, provoking a small moan to come from out of your lips. He wishes to hold you as close as he possibly can because the idea of ever being away from you again has been his main fear as of lately. But he refrains, you look so delicate and he feels like you could easily break. He stares at your body lovingly and your cheeks heat up at the way his eyes ogle your chest like a kid in a candy story. You give his arm a light slap and he chuckles, leaning over you to place a passionate kiss on your lips.

“You’re beautiful,” he says frankly. It doesn’t help to dissipate the flush on your face, but the compliment doesn’t bother you in the slightest. Jungkook leans in to trail kisses past your collarbones and into the swell of your breasts, making you bite your lip with anticipation. He looks at you asking for permission and you nod quickly with parted lips as you start to become impatient for him to make his next move. Jungkook lowers the cups of your breasts, freeing your hardened nipples and immediately envelopes one of them with his lips. “Mph—!” A sigh escapes your lips as you try to memorize the way his tongue traces over your tit. He pays attention to your other one, fingers rolling over the bud and pinching ever so often.

You can feel your panties damp by then, trespassing into the fabric of the black leggings you’re wearing over them. Reaching behind your back, you fumble in unclasping the hooks of the now uncomfortable bra. Jungkook’s forced to stop the undivided attention he had places on your breasts to look at you like he’s lost, why are you going so fast?

Once your hands delve with the buckle of his belt, he has to hold on to your wrists with a firm grasp, ‘‘What are you doing?’’ He asks with quick breath, you blink stoically towards him.

‘‘Uh─getting you naked?’’ You answer with a nonchalant tone, but his hands don’t let go and your demeanor changes, ‘‘D-Did you not want this?’’ Your voice turns smaller, embarrassed that maybe you had pressured him into something he didn’t want to participate in.

Jungkook quickly shakes his head no, ‘‘No, I-I do want this! It’s just─you’re going so fast,’’ he tries to explain, ‘‘I’ve been waiting for this for too long, I don’t wanna rush.’’ Your eyes lit up at the revelation as he waits for you to answer back, only for his back to hit the comforter with a small thud, giggling at the way you urgently kiss him again, but this time with much more care.

‘‘Why didn’t you say so before, stupid?’’ You mumble with a sheepish look, ‘‘I thought it was just going to be─nevermind, I need you right now.’’ You have to force yourself from spitting out any details that could possibly ruin the moment between you two, deciding to wait instead for any emotional confessions you want to make.

He switches positions between the two, panting as he brings you down to the mattress and Jungkook can feel the goosebumps on your skin, whether from the coldness of the room or because of the sheer electricity of his hands caressing your body like it was molded just right for him. He dips his hand lower, cupping your clothed heat on his hand. It makes you tremble and you whine, encouraging him to keep going.

“Baby, you’re really wet,” he comments with a teasing tone and you pout at him. His fingers hook into the waistband of your leggings and he pulls them down as he travels with them, greeted by the sight of the damp cloth of your panties. He exhales with content, caressing your thighs in an up and down motion. You twist underneath him and he has to hold your hips down to calm you down, “Patience is a virtue.”

“I’ve been too patient, do some—Ah!” Your whining is interrupted once Jungkook moves your underwear to the side holding it with his free hand, fingers coming to trace the slick covering your pussy lips. He becomes entranced with the transparent gooey liquid, bringing them close to his face as he separates his fingers and sees a strand connecting between them. “Guk-ah, p-please…” Your needy voice brings him back to reality, delving his fingers back into your exposed heat but this time with intent.

Jungkook’s thumb lifts the hood covering your clit, mouth coming down to give it a small tentative kiss. That action alone has you writhing above him, it makes him chuckle to himself as he dives back in. The moans you let out are loud and clear inside your bedroom, thankful that it’s only you and him inside your house. Your hand pulls at his hair, making him groan against you and the vibrations are felt throughout your body, only adding to the euphoric pleasure you already possess. His fingers trace the inside of your thighs until they reach your entrance, circling the fluttering hole which makes you pull at his hair harder and with your other you hold on to the bedsheets of the comforter tightly into your fist.

Jungkook’s tongue is still working your engorged bud, but he focuses his eyes on you as he dips the first finger inside you. “Oh—fuck,” you let out in a breathy moan. He tries to maintain a rhythm between his two ministrations, but it’s hard when he wants to focus on all of them at once. “‘Nother, please,” you begged once he let your clit rest, quickly following your request by adding another into your warm heat. He lets out a breathless chuckle as he notices how easy it is to thrust both fingers inside of you, your whole crotch area is covered in slick and his wet chin is a dead giveaway to where he was seconds ago.

He watches you unravel over him with such adoration, not even his wettest dreams or dirtiest fantasies could prepare him for this. Seven minutes in heaven he plans to stay in forever. “Guk-ah, I wan’ you. I-Inside, please.” You plead with teary eyes, and he slowly stops, removing his arousal covered fingers from inside you as he makes you sigh in the process. He kisses you again and again, your hazy brain is probably hallucinating all of this right now, but damn is it good. You tug at the crewneck he’s wearing, he’s too overdressed for this occasion. He tends to your demands, quickly getting rid of all the layers of clothing that stop him from being inside of you fully.

“I don’t have a—“

“I’m on the pill.”

You both speak at the same time, making each other chuckle. Jungkook gulps at the idea of taking you raw as the first time together, and you salivate at his hardened length; the head already oozing precum out and you want nothing more than to wrap your lips around it and lick the tip up. You’re just about to when Jungkook quickly grabs your wrist to stop you from reaching him, you look up at him with the big sparkly eyes he has loved for too long.

“I just—I wanna be inside you right now,” he sheepishly admits, and you smile with a nod; sharing the sentiment. You back up until your head rests on the pillows comfortably, relaxing into the mattress as you wait for Jungkook to ready himself. He places a kiss on your lips before placing a hand next to your head, using it as leverage above you. His free hand takes his cock and rubs the tip along your folds, making you squirm with anticipation. Jungkook chuckles, “Are you ready?” He asks with a sweet smile.

“I’ve always been,” you whisper, your hand tucking a strand of his long hair behind his ear.

A caress to his cheek as he nods, slowly pushing the head of his dick into you. You bite into your lip hard, it’s been a while since you had sex with someone and Jungkook’s size and girth was different from the rest. Your walls are tight around him and he has a tough time trying to reach the hilt with you squeezing him so hard, “Baby, relax for me.” He pleads and you nod apologetically, breathing in deep as you feel him reach parts inside of you, you didn’t know existed. Once he’s all the way in, he waits for you to give him the go ahead while he presses kisses into your heated cheek. You wrap your legs around his waist and give him a nod, letting him know he was allowed to start thrusting.

Jungkook manages to hit all the right places, keeping a steady pace as he enters and exits you each time. You’re left to moan and writhe underneath him, letting him take you as he pleases. Your kisses become messy, teeth biting into each other’s lips, teeth grazing against each other as you both tried to fight for the dominant position. It’s that heavy makeout that incites you to push at his shoulders, making him turn in his back, exiting you in the process. Jungkook pants, chest rising and falling with quickness as you straddle his lap, arms connecting behind his neck.

“You always want to win, right?” He chuckles with half lidded eyes, enjoying the way your pussy lips grinded over his twitching length. You bat your eyelashes at him, offering him an innocent smile. The same technique that used to get you everything you wanted when you were younger. Same determination as you seek for what’s yours. He’s under you after all, still a victim to your charms.

Jungkook takes the bulbous head of his cock and teases it in your clit, if you weren’t holding on to him tight you would’ve collapsed into his chest. And by the way you moan his name out, he knows you’ll always look for him no matter the weather. “What a pretty girl,” he coos into your hair and you pinch his nipple in retaliation which only makes him groan in return. “My pretty girl.” He states before sinking himself deep into you again, sighing at the feeling of your hips circling over him. His rough hands guide them as you bounce up and down his length, moaning every time you rose and hissing when you came back down.

He makes sure to keep this image engraved on his head forever. Your breasts bouncing over his face, your thighs working extra hard to keep up with his thrusts, and the way your sounds bounced off the walls of your bedroom.

“You’re doing s-so good, baby.” Jungkook praises you, kneading your ass cheek. “Taking my cock s-so well,” he falls into a trance of admiring the way his length would appear and disappear inside of you, covered in a thick layer of your arousal. It makes him drill into you faster, sitting properly against the bed’s headboard as he takes your hips with force. He’s too turned on to keep treating you so delicately, and the way you moan and pant at the increase in speed only lets him know you enjoy him like this way more. “I-Is it good, baby? Am I-I fucking you well?” He asks in between rapid thrusts, your thighs had given out by then.

You nod and a whimper escapes your lips, “Y-yes, Guk-Ah. S-so good, feels amazing.” Your praise is honest, the fucked out tone in your voice is a clear indicator of how well of a job he was doing. A minute longer and you’ll be right on cloud nine, never wanting to come back down. “Wanna cum Guk-Ah, plea—“ There’s no need for you to even finish your sentence because his thumb rubs your clit in figure eights, making you groan with the intensified feeling of his hips circling inside you deliciously. You can almost see the blinding white light ahead as Jungkook kisses you feverishly. You feel tears escape the corners of your high, the familiar feeling tickling inside you as Jungkook’s thrusts don’t let up. ‘‘Ah! Yes, yes, fuck,’’ you cry out once your orgasm hits. Jungkook holds you close to his chest, trying to soothe your shaking body with his arms. Your walls squeeze and relax continuously around him, it serves him as the impulse he needs to chase his own high.

‘‘I love you, Jungkook,’’ you confess in between panting breaths, ‘‘so much.’’

His release shoots out and he groans, digging crescent moons into your hips. You hiss at the sensation, but giggle at how his eyes are screwed shut and brows still furrowed together, as if he was holding on to the last of his orgasm. In reality, Jungkook is just hoping that once he opens his eyes you’ll still be in his arms. Your fingers tilting his head to face you are very much real, he sees spots once he opens his eyes as they adjust to the room’s lighting.

‘‘I love you too.’’ He says with a fixed gaze and you coo at how perfect this is.

You’re twenty-two when Jungkook’s finally yours.

You’re both twenty-three and it’s another weekend spent at his apartment, he’s been playing for three hours now and you’ve given up on having him pay attention to you. Deciding to switch your plan around and join him instead, if only he would let you play.

‘‘Jungkook, you said it was going to be my turn five rounds ago!’’ You complain with a pout, crossing your arms across your chest.

His gaze is still stuck on the T.V screen, ‘‘Baby, shhh, you’re gonna make me lose.’’ He mumbles as he tries to remain concentrated on the game in hand, but he can hear your humph’s from behind him, ‘‘Patience is a─’’

‘‘Virtue, yeah, who cares.’’ You interrupt him with a roll of your eyes, familiar with the saying a little too well. ‘‘Hope you remember that for later tonight,’’ you add in a mumble, but he doesn’t hear it because of the loud sounds coming from the game on the screen.

‘‘What did you say, babe?’’ He asks with a raised brow, hitting the buttons of the controller with expert ease.

‘‘I’ll call your mom and tell her you don’t wanna share.’’ You joke with a threatening voice, but Jungkook knows better than to take your words so lightly. He pauses the game and turns to look at you with an are you serious? expression on his face, you giggle as you’ve finally got what you wanted.

He apologizes by covering your face with kisses, pleading for you not to tell on him with his mom. You promise not to do so this time, knowing that the woman was probably tired of having to scold his son at his big age.

Plus, ever since Jungkook surprised you with the almost exact replica of the Valentine’s Day card you gave him all those year back, you’ve taken advantage to tease him even more knowing he’s at your beck and call. You always remind him that he came close because the stickers he used were not like the ones you had, but he remembered to add the hearts on the I’s so that’s good enough.

‘‘Alright you can play, but━!’’ He says after he finishes his attack of kisses, ‘‘I’ll be your guide, I can’t risk you messing my record up, no offense baby.’’ None taken as you nod excitedly, you’ll always take whatever chance he gives you.

Jungkook’s finally learned how to share his toys after all.

#heartsforbts #bangtanhq #btswritingcafe #jungkook smut #jungkook au #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook scenario #jungkook fic #bts smut #f: year 22

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inkribbon796 · 4 years

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A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes

Summary: Roman and Remus have always fought, always. But this time they’re teaming up for something they both agree on. Getting their mentors together.

A/N: for @aimasup and @pixeldragon45 I might have taken some liberties with the story but I hope you guys like it. I wrote this after seeing this amazing post by aimasup.

Two brothers, royal born but divided in every single way. The elder twin strove for honor and chivalry, raised in the royal court around the other knights and the tales of rulers and knights from the kingdom’s history in ages past. Some stories were true, others had been exaggerated more than a bit.

The younger twin had been mostly shoved into his elder brother’s shadow — a brother who was older by little less than an hour — and quickly began to act out as a result.

They quickly began to be divided on the battlefield. The younger prince had been kidnapped one day by a powerful shape changing mage when he was sixteen and just decided not to go back and the royal knights found him playing old maid with her in the tower, and he threw them out the door with a note for his parents and brother.

He had declared himself “the monsters’ problem now” and was not coming back.

It was Prince of Sanders Roman’s sword and “good” magic, versus Duke of the Dark Wood Remus’s pranks and illusions.

But that is not today’s story. The fight between good and evil is for another day.

On the edge of the city, bordering the untamable Dark Woods where monsters called home, there was a tavern. It was on a trade road that went around the woods and towards the neighboring kingdom. The tavern was a way stop before reaching the capital city of Roman’s kingdom.

It was absolutely pouring down rain when a cloaked young man ran into the tavern. He pulled down his hood after looking around the tavern. Prince Roman had come to this tavern frequently, it was considered neutral ground because the caravans that came through, the residents of the Dark Woods traded between each other and the merchants protected their clients.

Against a wall, Roman spotted his brother sitting at a table, a plate of food and three empty mugs of ale next to him.

Roman walked over and naturally turned up his nose at the magic keeping Remus from getting too tipsy. “You couldn’t wait until I got in could you?”

“Ahh, brother,” Remus smiled. “I got hungry, I got bored. There’s a very cute bartender over there.”

Remus blew a kiss and waggled his fingers at the young man in question.

“Focus,” Roman hissed at him.

Remus smiled, “So I take it you received my letter?”

“You contemptuous oaf,” Roman sneered at Remus. Roman was pulling out of his cloak a dirt speckled note that had a stick figure drawing of Roman’s fairy godmother and Remus’s mentor, the dragon witch, on it holding hands. The words: canon ship xoxoxoxo maybe?!?! Meet me at the Salty Unicorn at 10pm if you agree plz thx; were written, half scrunched into the left corner of the paper as if the second half was an unplanned addition. On the front it was addressed to: my horridly good brother, Roman; from: your bestest coolest brother, Remus.

Roman shook the note violently. “Did you write this in mud? Mother would have you raked over hot coal for a note this foul!”

Remus clapped in excitement, “So you’ll help me?”

“What type of cad do you take me for?” Roman scoffed, throwing the note down onto the table. “Of course I will.”

Shaking his hands, Remus just about squealed in delight, his smile widening. “The journey will be perilous, brother.”

“Oh please, it will be easy,” Roman scoffed. “It’s true love, and they are already smitten. Half of our job is done for us.”

It was, in fact, not easy. It was easy for the two princes to get back to their homes. But when they met back up at the border of the Dark Woods a couple weeks later, Roman challenged Remus to come out and fight him. The royal prince had to fight several goblins before Remus showed up, mace in hand and swinging it around wildly like a maniac. He managed to hit three goblins, who didn’t scramble away fast enough, in the face before he made contact with Roman’s shield.

Buzzing around Roman was a bright blue hummingbird, a little puffball of feathers and magic. She was fluttering around the royal prince, magic coming off her wings like glitter.

During the twin’s duel for honor and a bit of fun, a flash of shadow flew across as a large bat flew towards him and hit the hummingbird out of the air.

“You fiend!” Roman spat as the hummingbird seemed to glow and in an explosion of feathers a woman appeared in a billowing blue and white dress, the little jewel beads of the dress glittering and sparkling in the light. For a second or two she looked like she was covered in soft down before having more human light tan skin.

“That was a cheap shot,” Althea the fairy godmother reminded tersely as the Dragon Witch turned from a bat to a bony witch in a very dark red dress, her skin an ivory ash color.

“Please it’s almost like you wanted to get hit,” the Dragon Witch reminded. “Besides you two were gaining up on my sweet Remus.”

Althea swept her hair back, which frustrated the Dragon Witch because even in a fight it always looked flowing and fluffy.

“Give up,” the Dragon Witch smiled. “These woods are ours.”

“Never!” Althea shouted. “Your reign of terror is over.”

Lights and magic flew across the battlefield. In the end Remus and Roman had tied again as the Dragon Witch was thrown back by a gust of wind.

“Meddling child,” the Dragon Witch spat.

“Surly, caustic witch,” Althea snapped back. “Be gone and go back to your unhallowed woods. We are victorious.”

“I clearly won,” the Dragon Witch smiled smugly.

Althea made a little angry pout, crossing her arms in a huff, “You’ve done no such thing. Even if you two did win, it would only be because you both cheated.”

The Dragon Witch had some big gloating tirade of sarcastic insults, but seeing her little pout where she puffed out her cheeks a bit and looked like she was sticking her tongue to the inside of her cheek and . . . she . . . what was she going to say again? Something about her cute face? No, Althea would just make fun of her for that.

“Yeah? Well you . . .” The Dragon Witch tried not to look absolutely flustered. “. . . you’re just a poor sport.”

Althea looked angrier while the Dragon Witch was just internally screaming. Poor sport? Who says that? What are you five? Did you just get kicked out of the academy?

Remus was standing behind them, a huge toothy grin on his face that made the Dragon Witch want to have his face dragged in the mud or put worms in his stew.

Glancing at her student again she saw that both he and Roman had stopped fighting and the two of them were just watching the two mages arguing. The whole thing smacked of a trick of some kind and right now the Dragon Witch couldn’t figure out what type of trap that meant.

So she appreciated whatever the hustle was, even though she doubted that Remus had turned on her. He would be up front about it, and predictably violent.

He was a good kid so . . .

She looked over at Roman who seemed to be just as excited as Remus was, except he was staring at Althea . . .

“Wait a second,” the Dragon Witch realized.

“I will not be waiting any seconds,” Althea refused, not understanding.

The Dark Woods mage immediately remembered that the good witch had been talking to her and she had been ignoring her. But one look at her face reminded the witch why she had a crush in the first place.

“Yes or no?” Althea ordered, pointing at her?

“Uh,” the Dragon Witch stalled, staring at her, “no?”

Althea’s face got a bit fuzzy with her anger, the feathers around her face was almost a pinking color.

She looks so adora— no, don’t she’ll just turn you down.

“I can’t believe this, you’re so frustrating,” Althea huffed out. She stomped her feet a bit and grabbed Roman, “We’re leaving.”

“But you didn’t . . . I mean, justice,” Roman sputtered as he was dragged towards a carriage that had been hiding up the road to stay out of the fight.

“Don’t say a word,” the Dragon Witch ordered Remus as they watched them walk away.

“Why Maggie?” Remus smiled, setting his hands and chin on the hilt of his mace.

“If you don’t, I’ll use your tongue for a gibberish concoction,” she threatened.

“Awwww,” Remus’s grin was particularly sharkish. “Someone’s just being a poor sport.”

The Dragon Witch whipped her staff around and lightly cuffed him on the back of the head.

Inside Roman’s carriage, the royal prince was just listening to his fairy godmother rant at him.

Althea was sitting with her face buried in her hands, her face red as a tomato. “That woman is so infuriating! Ugh, what kind of game is she playing?”

“Who knows with them?” Roman shrugged.

“Maybe if she wasn’t so cute, I’d know what to say,” Althea accidentally said out loud.

She blushed even harder with embarrassment and looked up at Roman. “Uh, I mean—”

Roman stared at her for a second before pulling apart the divider behind them and turning to yell, “Cam! Turn this cart around, we got a date to catch!”

“Roman!” Althea yelled, her face getting even redder. “She’s the queen of the Dark Woods!”

“And the Dark Woods is about to get themselves another fabulous queen,” Roman proclaimed.

The cart had stopped, the driver turned around in his seat to verify, “Are you sure you want to go back to the Dark Woods, Sir?”

“Oh yeah,” Roman smiled. “I know we’re only three minutes out. We could walk there. Oh, and you and Quil are about to cough up five pounds a piece.”

“Roman!” Althea shrieked as the carriage began to move back towards the haunted woods.

“It’s true love, my darlingest mentor,” Roman insisted, “and I have it on good authority that she thinks you’re good looking.”

Althea got even redder, “Who told you that?”

“Well Remus was cruder but I understood the intent,” Roman answered.

“He could be lying,” Althea accused.

“Please, my brother is the worst liar in all the kingdoms,” Roman defended, almost offended for the brother he fought on a regular basis’s honor. “He’s crude, rude, and violent, but he is no liar.”

“She really likes me?” Althea asked.

“How could she not?” Roman demanded. “Now, we have true love to prepare for my dear.”

“Let’s just start at a first date, Roman,” Althea insisted. “It’s a little soon for anything like that.”

“You’ll see,” Roman smiled, looking out the window. “She’s over the moon for you.”

Eventually the carriage stopped because Remus was standing in the middle of the road with the Dragon Witch next to him.

Roman opened a top hatch in the carriage, “Ahh, good, we were just about to go and find you two again.”

“I’d like your men to stop accosting my woods,” the Dragon Witch spat.

“When you get your marauding bandits to stop attacking my people,” Roman bargained.

“How about when you pay my woods back for generations of war crimes?” The Dragon Witch’s eyebrow shot up.

“We shouldn’t have to defend ourselves from being set on fire,” Roman reminded. “I’d be happy to start calling off the war if we could trust you won’t pick up arms against us the moment we have our backs turned.”

“Ugh!” Remus complained. “We’re not here to talk about politics! We’re here to talk about two lovely ladies getting freaky!”

“Ah, thank you Remus,” Roman clapped his hands, smiling. “Thank you, for once, for getting us back on topic.”

Roman waved his hands and when his hand came back up Althea in her hummingbird form was perched on two of his fingers. The royal prince exited the carriage with her, clearing her throat. “Queen Dragon Witch of the Dark Woods, I present to you the Good Witch of the Sanders Kingdom. She is as intelligent as she is brave and you shall be permitted to court her on the grounds that you vow to honor and cherish her, to treat her as the lady she is.”

“That’s it?” The Dragon Witch asked, clearly braced for more.

“Yeah, she has to vow the same,” Remus cut in.

“Naturally, my mentor is no brute,” Roman agreed.

“No I meant is he going to demand anything else of me,” the Dragon Witch told Remus.

Roman briefly ran over his speech in his head and ducked back in to grab the paper he had rehearsed with, reading back over it, “honor and cherish . . . no I got everything.”

“No land, no unfavorable terms?” The Dragon Witch seemed surprised and astonished.

The royal prince made an offended gasp, “My great-great grandfather’s petty squabbles have no bearing when love is on the table. Naturally if any deals for land and power are to be carried out, our courts should both be here for that.”

The Dragon Witch just stared at Roman for a bit before smiling, “You know, you’re a spoiled rich human brat, but I think you’ll actually make a good king one day.”

“Thanks?” Roman wasn’t sure if he’d been insulted or not. “I think?”

The Dragon Witch held out her hand and Althea transformed back, looking a little bit nervous. “You really are the most beautiful fairy in the lands,” the Dragon Witch told her.

Althea was just staring at her, “You are too.”

The twin brothers were standing close to the carriage and Roman’s driver, the three of them just watching the two of them talking.

“Janny owes me big for this,” Remus was almost cackling.

“Are you making deals with that snake?” Roman critiqued.

“How about you get off my ass and let me live my life?” Remus glared at him. “Besides his mother is happy, what could be better than that?”

“You do have to admit,” Cam said to Roman from his seat above them, “they do look happy.”

“Yeah,” Roman sighed, acquiescing on that front.

The two witches talked for a bit before they inevitably had to part ways. They would meet again on the battlefield, but next time it would be a not-so-quiet show of magic, designed to impress rather than harm.

#The High Tower #fantasy au #Roman Sanders #Remus Sanders #dragon witch x fairy godmother #Dragon Witch #Fairy Godmother #gay panic

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mintvender · 3 years

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UTOPIA [ 2 ]

Pairing: BTS x Y/N

Synopsis: Y/N L/N, the name of the current monarch of Corea. They became the ruler after successfully ending the previous king along with the dynasty as well. In their harem, countless men are present to help balance the court’s power. However, is this truly their intentions? The palace was always a place that needs to be proceeded with caution but as time goes by, recklessness would most likely outweigh it. You found yourself unable to prosper the kingdom without being too connected to it.

HaremAU!

Warning: None

Word Count: 3.6k

A/n: Can anyone do me a favour, either through your account or anon and tell me how the story is progressing? I understand that it’s still early but I want to know if I’m going too fast and whatnot. Will greatly appreciate it,thx.

Masterlist

Just by glancing at the person’s posture, you could already tell who it was. Your ability to know them naturally accumulated after years knowing them. It all became much easier as the person continues to grow under your watchful guidance.

“ Come in,” you announced, walking back to the table, “ there’s no need to whisper.”

As if waiting for your permission, the doors immediately were pushed open followed by quick stepping sounds.

The steps hurriedly took its way to your spot before stopping behind you, waiting to see your next actions.

You, on the other hand, didn’t feel the need to greet them and instead settled your attention on the various treats displayed on the table. Pretending that there was no presence behind you, you extended your right hand to one of the treats and peacefully munched on them.

You almost groan at the heavenly taste that quickly covers all your senses. It has seemed that you have been neglecting your hunger too much that a simple treat could bring you such satisfaction.

You were about to continue to further enter that mindset when a high-pitched whine from behind suddenly snapped you back to reality. You then realized that you may have forgotten about a certain someone.

Turning around, you find yourself faced with a tall yet lean figure who was pouting at your mistreatment. Only offering him a smile as an apology, you ushered him to come to the table.

The individual, thankfully, obeyed you and placed himself beside you before letting out another whine.

“ Y/N-iee, we haven’t talked to each other for so long. You even neglected all my invitations and when I came to visit you, you even ignored me?” he asked, while clinging onto your left arm.

Knowing how touchy he could be, you could only let him do what he wanted.

“ You know I was busy, Taehyung.”

The pout that was on his face became much more prominent the moment he heard his full name coming out of your mouth.

“ Nooo, don’t call me by that name! You know that I don’t like it, “ Taehyung leaned on to your arm, “ It makes me feel like we’re strangers.”

Finally deciding that you have teased him enough, you brought him into your embrace and hugged him. Feeling Taehyung naturally melting into you, you couldn’t help but let out a chuckle.

“ Alright, alright, I won’t tease you anymore,” you said, “ How have you been with the training?”

At the mention of his combat training, he stopped snuggling into you but still stayed in your embrace, deciding that not speaking would be the best option to get away with having to answer it.

Understanding what he meant, you could only let out a sigh.

“ Have you been missing the training, Tae?”

“...”

Again, he refused to answer and make eye contact with you.

“ If you don’t tell me then someone else will be doing that,” you said, “ Jungkook!”

Immediately after hearing your command, Jungkook entered the room, and waited for your next orders.

“ You have the responsibility of watching over Taehyung whenever General Kim is away. Tell me, how is Taehyung with his combat training?”

Jungkook looked at you before setting his gaze at the cowered figure still in your embrace. He wondered if he should take which side. His friend’s or yours?

Taahyung and Jungkook have quite a miraculous relationship. Unlike the others, Jungkook immediately bonded with the elder. If people didn’t know their status, anyone could have mistaken them as biological brothers from how close they seemed when together.

Obviously seeing how indecisive Jungkook seems to be, you knew that both of them were hiding something from you.

“ Jungkook, I don’t care how close you are to Taehyung. I was the one who made you my bodyguard, not him,” you reminded him, “ You work under me and obey me, understand?”

Both males flinched at your warning, knowing that there aren’t many things that you have distaste more than disloyalty.

Jungkook, who was the main target of your warning could only sent Taehyung a sorrowful glance as an apology.

“ Y-yes your majesty, I will make sure to not repeat my mistake again,” Jungkook said, “ Regarding the Royal Consort’s combat training, he… have made very little improvements.”

Somewhat expecting this result, you felt a wave of disappointment hit you. Looks like he still doesn’t understand what’s best for him.

“ I will hold your word accountable, Jungkook. Now, leave us be.”

Jungkook bowed down to the both of you before rushing out of the room, seemingly allergic to the atmosphere that was slowly intensifying.

“ … Care to explain to me what you were doing at that time?”

Knowing that he would not answer your question, you brought your right index and thumb finger under his chin before tilting his head up to meet your gaze.

Unfortunately for Taehyung, he could not break himself out of your hold and had to suffer from facing the abundant amount of guilt that he has created for the both of you.

“ … I’m sorry, I really tried but I kept slipping out of order. I didn’t want to disappoint you so I…” Taehyung trailed off.

“ So you think that me finding out by another person would be better?”

Taehyung did his best to shake his head, denying your claims.

“ I didn’t think that Jungkook would rat me out like this.”

“ You should have expected that, little mastermind. He works under me after all.”

You then released his head before gently patting it.

“ I understand that physical combat isn’t your best domain but you still need to understand the basics.”

“ But I understand the basics, Y/N.”

“ Are you sure?” You calmly asked.

Taehyung who was about to nod his head decided that it would be best to think again when he heard your overly calm tone.

“ I’ll… give it a try.”

Shaking your head, not knowing how to deal with such a sarcastic comment, you pinched his pouty cheeks and smile.

“ You little minx! How many times have you promised me and broken it? You, yourself know all too well that you won’t keep it!”

Slapping your hand to let go of his cheeks, he continues to let out pitiful whimpers.

“ Ouch! I’m sorry, Y/N! Won’t do it again. Ouch! Ouch!”

Releasing his soft cheeks, you gently rubbed them to soothe the pain while laughing out loud.

“ Alright, alright. If you do show up on most of the days, I’ll even accompany you whenever I’m free.”

Taehyung, who was previously sulking and pouting, immediately changed his demeanour when he heard your comment. His face practically lighting up when he heard that you will be joining him.

“ Really?”

“ Of course,” you assured him, “ You know that I will never break my promise.”

He nodded before once again tackling you into a tight hug, now satisfied that he gets to spend more time with.

And with that, your little personal conversation came to an end.

Once he finally let go of you, standing up, you make your way towards the desk and bring back a pile of paper. Seeing what you were doing, Taehyung immediately moved all the plates somewhere else to make room for the pile.

Placing the pile in the centre, you skillfully separates them into all the topics.

“ Today’s audience, I’ve been informed by General Kwong that the Grimores are attacking our eastern border,” you informed him, “ However, this was done by adolescents that have yet to fully mature.”

Looking over the papers, Taehyung asked, “ Then how did they managed to break into the warehouse and destroy all the crops there? Children who have no experience can’t possibly do that.”

You nodded in agreement, “ I agree. Even though it is a possibility but the chance of it is too unlikely for that to be the main reason.”

“Their actions were also quite bold. It doesn’t seem too irrational at all.”

“ You mean that it’s all planned out?”

“ Yes, it’s very possible. All their actions were thorough and seemed experienced. I have a feeling that someone is secretly guiding them in the dark.”

You looked into Taehyung’s stern eyes, seeing how serious he is, this might really be possible.

Taehyung, besides being known as your Royal Consort, is also infamous for his sharp and observant mind. Combine that with all the training that he has done, anyone would have to put his words into heavy consideration.

With you knowing him for years, you have almost absolute trust in his intuition and mind. After all, what would people think of you if Taehyung’s mentor didn’t trust him? People would most likely think that you are using your status and clinging onto his title to benefit your own intentions. You definitely did now want that type of influence.

“ What should we do now then?”

As if expecting this question, he simply answered, “ We’ll just have to wait.”

Sighing, you nodded. Even though you have faced these types of scenarios countless times, this silent obstacle was always the worst. Through time, you have somewhat managed to cope with the raw feeling that constantly gnaws at your insides to take actions, and instead follow the detailed plan that you have spent countless hours working on.

“ Mhm, I will send some people to go and watch for any suspicious people there.”

Taehyung nodded, satisfied with your plan, “ How is the alliance with the Ecenyths?”

“ It’s… proceeding as planned but slower than what we need it to be.”

“ Do the Ecenyths still think that we are unworthy.”

“ Might be so. They are known for their prideful selves after all. Even if they desperately need this alliance, they would never be willing to ask for it.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes at the thought.

The Ecenyths occupied the entire south of the continent. As a result, they have the largest land for agriculture which offers them many alliances with the neighbouring countries and beyond that. Even the Grimores, who take up most of the land that links the mainland and the sea have to give them some face in order to receive a stable supply of crops.

If the Grimores were considered to be arrogant, the Ecenyths would be somewhat too prideful for their own good. This was a result of the many countries that backs them and victories they have won throughout history.

Despite this, Taehyung still found himself despising them courtesy to a certain merchant from said nation.

“ What were they thinking sending such a chatty and loud merchant? Are they seriously toying with us?”

You, unable to keep your laughter to yourself burst out laughing. You somewhat always knew that Taehyung didn’t favour the funny merchant, but you didn’t think that it would be to this extent of him downright degrading him.

“ You think so?” You teased, “ I don’t think he’s that much of a nuisance.”

Taehyung glared at you, “ Hmph! Of course you wouldn’t. He basically becomes overly sweet and flirty whenever you’re around. How wouldn’t you like him if he was like that?”

You raised your eyebrows, amused by Taehyung’s sudden outburst.

“ Are you jealous, my little consort?”

“ Hmph.”

What’s the special occasion today, I wonder.

“ Let’s get back on track with our previous conversation.”

Taehyung reluctantly nodded, still mad at the thought of the merchant.

“ The drought season is slowly approaching. I can feel the humidity rising during the day,” you said, shivering when remembering how sweaty you were underneath the dozen layers of your hanbok.

Sighing, Taehyung turned towards you before composing himself and joined the conversation.

“ Yes, it is expected to be extremely dry this year.”

“ We need to take precautions to minimize the damage that it will bring to our economy. With water becoming a rarity during this time, everyone will be on edge with the prices of products increasing.”

“ People in the Amber section would suffer the most.”

People of the Amber section, is a commonly used term to describe commoners. They are people, who are not of nobility and most likely work jobs of intense labour. The next rank is the people of the Malachite section. They are people who consist mostly of merchants and owners that are somewhat wealthier than the steel section. On top of them is the Topaz section, people of nobility who mostly work as officials. Finally the rank that tops all the rest is the diamond section, royalty for short.

“ With the increased price of products, they would not be able to pay for it with the amount they earn.”

“ Yes, even though we have already established a minimum wage for every worker, it is still extremely hard to track that. Only established shops would abide by such rules. And even with that, they would not be able to afford the products.”

“ What do you suggest then?”

Looking over the papers, Taehyung immersed himself into his own world, trying to come up with the best plan.

“ We need to come up with a plan that ensures the Amber section could survive this season.”

“ Elaborate.”

“ Providing families of the Amber section with necessary materials will need to be done.”

You nodded, taking his suggestion into consideration.

With this plan, however, there are several setbacks that you should be able to work around to minimize how much money will have to be deducted during this time. Knowing that many ministers will disagree if this has a big budget, you need to come up with a persuasive plan in order to win the majority.

You and Taehyung continued to work together on the possible plan through the night, only stopping when realizing that the sun was about to rise.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Waking up to a blinding light entering your eyes, you were quick to try and swing your arm over them and shield them away from the light. Unlike other times, you were unable to lift your arm, feeling a weighted object was crushing your arm. As a result, you could only continuously blink them until they have adjusted to the light.

Finally realizing that something or rather someone was lying on your arm, you look over to meet with a familiar face snuggling into your arm.

Smiling to yourself, you turned to your side to admire his ethereal face.

Taehyung has always been a beauty, but you found yourself adoring his visuals the most during the early mornings such as this one. Contrary to him complaining about how puffy his face is in the morning, you were the complete opposite. Wanting nothing but to smother his face with reassurance whenever he’s insecure about them.

Right now, you couldn’t help but bring your free hand to caress his lips, admiring how soft they really are. Slowly, you extend your hand to other places, continually surprising yourself at how soft his skin was.

Unlike you, who have been trained at combat since young, and whose hands were littered with callouses. Taehyung on the other hand, possesses clear and porcelain-like skin. As a result, you were somewhat envious of that.

You snapped back into reality when you felt the body next to you stirred around, arms coming up to your neck to only interconnect behind them, snuggling closer into you.

Chuckling at his cute action, you let your arm rest on his back and pulled him closer.

“ Tae, it’s time to wake up now. You get to train today.”

Feeling him pout against your neck, you gently rub your hand down his back.

“ Nooo, it’s comfortable here,” he whined out.

“ You can’t, Tae. We have a busy day ahead.”

Despite your protest, Taehyung continued to whine, trapping you into his hold.

Even though the thought of staying in bed for hours was an appealing idea to you, you knew better than that. If Taehyung was not being obedient then you will use another method to force him to wake up.

“ Taehyung, get up.”

Immediately after hearing his name, Taehyung sat up and look down at your still lying figure, pouting at you.

“ Why do you always use this method?”

Sitting up, you offered him a pat on the head before making your way to the edge before standing up.

“ You were being stubborn, Tae. I could only use such methods,” you said while stretching your body, “ Apologies, my little consort.”

Begrudgingly leaving your bed, he sleepily walked towards the table, sitting on one of the chairs and waited for food to be served.

“ How did we arrive at your bedroom last night?”

“ I carried you to bed, Tae.”

Looking over at you, he smiled, praising you.

“ Aigoo, my Y/N is so strong. How could I live without you.”

You, who was still stretching, froze at his comment before awkwardly walking towards the table, sitting in front of him.

Seeing how you were hesitant about his comment, he suspiciously asked, “ But you will stay with me right?”

Knowing you couldn’t escape his questioning if you didn’t reply to this, you could only agree.

“ Yes, Tae. I will stay with you.”

“ Forever?”

Offering him a small smile, you nodded.

Being the observant person he is, Taehyung obviously does not quite believe you but decided to let you go.

Like on cue, maids began to scurry into the room, bringing various dishes made the both of you forget the previous conversation. Soon enough, you both started to eat while peacefully talking to each other.

Amidst the feast, Taehyung whined about having to go through his training in the early morning which was answered by you ignoring him. Deciding that it would be amusing to surprise him later.

After finishing your meal, Taehyung took his time getting dressed by the maids.

“ You certainly took your time.”

“ Of course, I’m the royal consort after all.”

“ Stop procrastinating.”

“ I’m not procrastinating!”

“ Then let’s go.”

Taehyung, who was getting ready to work looked at you, confused.

Seeing how puzzled he looks, you hold out your hand, silently offering it to him. It might not be as grand as you have imagined but at least you still get a laugh out of it.

“ What are you achieving just by standing there? Let’s go, we’re about to be late for practice.”

Finally understanding your intentions, he rushed towards you and grabbed your hand. Holding it between the two of you, Taehyung pulled you towards the exit.

“ Tae, why hurry?” You teased.

Taehyung who was pulling you only pouted as a response but immediately blush when the maids behind the both of you giggled at his cute antiques.

“ What are you laughing at?” He growled out, immediately shutting everyone’s laughter which resulted in all of them awkwardly avoiding his gaze.

Knowing that he wouldn’t actually punish your people makes the scenario much more amusing to you. After all, you and Taehyung have known them for years.

After that, the entire crew walked to the training ground in complete silence and continued to do so until General Kim arrived at the scene.

As soon as General Kim entered the training ground, he flinched seeing your presence.

Desperately rubbing his chest to calm his heart, he asked, “ Your majesty? What have brought you here?”

Offering him a small smile, you answered, “ I’m here to watch over the little minx to make sure that he is focusing.”

General Kim chuckled hearing your response. You always managed to surprise him with your duality. You could be making jokes one moment before becoming terrifyingly in the next. The transition being so smooth that if people were not there before would think that you have been acting like this for hours.

“ Lucky for you, Royal Consort. We’ll be running laps today,” General Kim announced.

Taehyung, who was originally standing beside you bolted in the opposite direction after hearing what they were going to do today. Unexpectedly, you caught up to him long before he even managed to move ten meters, and was dragged back to where he previously was.

“ Look at him being so excited for today’s activity,” you teased.

Pretending to be impressed, General Kim said, “ Now that’s a first.”

“ Haha, you really want to kill me today.”

Taehyung looked at you then at General Kim, before repeating that motion a few more times, somewhat regretting pulling you here with him.

“ Let’s move to the fields now.”

The both of you then followed General Kim to a grass field not far from the training ground.

After that, you quickly settled onto the ground and began to warm up your muscles.

When you guys were finished with the warm up, you both walked towards one end of the field and waited for future instructions.

“ This section is specifically for testing your stamina so go at a speed that you know that you will be able to last the longest.”

You and Taehyung nodded, and started running.

To not let Taehyung be alone, you followed his pace, knowing that it would be much slower than you.

Seeing how you were at his speed, Taehyung insisted that you should speed up.

“ Don’t worry about me, go at your own pace.”

“ Don’t talk, it will exhaust you more. Let me do the talking,” you shushed.

Knowing what you meant, Taehyung didn’t talk for the entire time, secretly appreciating your kind gesture.

After what seems to be like half an quarter of an hour, Taehyung was on the ground panting heavily while you were breathing a little harder than normal.

Knowing how hard he tried, you ruffled his sweaty head, praising him for his effort.

“ Good job, Tae.”

“ Why. is. this. so. important?” He groaned out.

“ Because you need it in order to do physical missions,” you answered simply.

“ I have done countless physical missions but never needed ‘stamina’,” he whined out, still out of breath.

Opening your mouth, you were about to protest when you heard a person yelling out your name. Confused, you turn around only to be met with a pale orange patch blurring your vision. Before you knew it, you were on the ground, seemingly getting crushed by the weight on top of you.

What’s with people wanting to squish me today?

#harem au #bts hoseok #bts imagines #bts jimin #bts jungkook #bts seokjin #bts yoongi #bts rm #bts taehyung #bts x reader #bts x y/n #bts series #bts harem au #reader insert #Utopia #MintVender #Dom!reader

42 notes · View notes

i-lionheart · 3 years

Text

IT'S NOT A WIP ANYMORE BITCHES!!!!!

Ok so i wrote a fic that's basically this post by the-modern-typewriter but i took the concept and some main elements and rewrote it as a kylo ren self insert because of course i did i wanted a comfort fic and i refuse to apologize its not plagiarism i cited my sources k thx

anyways this is a Kylo ren x fem!reader (but the only time reader's gender is referenced as when they're referred to as "good girl" so make of that what you will). Angst, torture mention, self harm tw, suicide tw, depression tw, safe for work but implicit nudity. Also there's none of that "y/n" or (name) shit because I just personally hate it. I made this for me not you but it totally fukin slaps so read on at your own risk lmao

Tell Me Why

“You’ve been astonishingly resilient,” Ren said softly. “What a shame it has to come to this.”

His gaze roamed over you lazily, possessively, drinking in the sight of you. You were bound, gagged, and strapped down to an interrogation table. In his personal quarters, of all places.

You would trade every star in the galaxy to be anywhere but here.

Ren picked up a syringe full of clear, thick liquid off the tray of wicked-looking instruments that lay beside you and held it in front of your eyes. “I’m expect you’re quite familiar with this," he said, voice deceptively casual. "The resistance undoubtedly trained you to resist truth serum as insurance against the unthinkable. Obviously,” he said, indicating your current predicament, “They are fools.”

So it would be truth serum. You could handle this easily enough. All you had to do was tell him the truth, but not the one he was looking for. Simple.

Some miniscule change in your expression must have given your hubris away. Ren chuckled. “You poor thing.” he said. “Do you really think that we haven’t made… improvements on this since my grandfather held your precious General captive so long ago?”

You swallowed thickly, blood pounding through your temples as your breath caught in your throat. What could he possibly be talking about? Truth serum had been perfected in the days of Old Republic and hadn’t changed for centuries.

What advantage could he possibly hope to have?

Ren lowered his face until his eyes were level with yours. Though every fiber of your being screamed at you to look away, you met his gaze, trembling.

“You know as well as I do that the Old Republic, the Jedi, were weak. Fools,” he spat. “They were afraid to do what was truly necessary to meet their goals. The First Order has no such weaknesses.”

He lowered his mouth and whispered rapidly in your ear, his breath ghosting along your skin. “Unfortunately for you, I am not a Jedi, and this will hurt quite a bit. I only wish that I could remove that gag and hear every shriek that comes out of that pretty little mouth without risking you biting off your own tongue.” He clucked his tongue softly as he stood up. “What a shame.”

He replaced the syringe on the tray and selected a small pair of medical scissors, then began to methodically cut through the fabric of your sleeve. "I would apologize for the outfit," he said sardonically, "but I rather suspect that you have much bigger things to be worrying about at the moment."

Once your sleeve was split all the way to your elbow, Ren set the scissors down and set his leather-clad fingers to the task of spreading the halved fabric of your sleeve to fully reveal your bare skin. He was agonizingly gentle, as though trying to spread the petals of a struggling flower and help it bloom.

His work complete, his eyes and his fingers roved over your exposed arm, relishing your vulnerability. If you weren't paralyzed with fear, you would have squirmed, thrashed, done anything to flee his scrutiny.

Force, please, you thought desperately, don't let him see them. Please, anything but that. I'll give anything. Let him do what he wishes to me as long as they go unnoticed. Please.

As though sensing your frantic pleas, Ren's eyes locked onto your wrist, onto the unnaturally straight cuts and scars criss crossing your skin.

"What is this?" he said softly.

Shit.

It was the last straw. The spell of fear holding you in place broke. You twisted your arm as far as you could in the restraints, trying to hide what it was far too late to conceal. Instantly his hand shot out and pinned your wrist to the table as you writhed in his grasp.

"You know as well as I do that you cannot take back what has been revealed. The mynock is out of the bag, little one. Are you going to lie still, and let me finish what your own foolish actions have started? Or am I going to have to make you?"

Realizing it was of no use, that you were absolutely, utterly powerless, you stopped thrashing. Tears glistened on your cheeks. Your breath hitched as choked sobs pushed their way past your gag. You fought for every inhale and exhale, lungs crushed under the weight of your own rising panic.

But bewilderingly, inexorably, you were still.

"Good girl," he breathed.

Slowly, ever so slowly, he lifted his hand from your wrist. When you remained motionless, even without his grip holding you to the table, his hands moved to your elbow and, abandoning those damn scissors, he began to finish what he had started.

He tore first one sleeve, then the other, and made short work of everything else until you were laid bare before him. Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide.

Kylo Ren's eyes roved over you, taking in every mark, every scar, every bruise on your bare skin. You wanted to fight it so badly, wanted twist yourself away from his agonizing scrutiny, but all you could do was shut your eyes and pray for it to be over. His burning gaze held you immobile like the galaxy's most powerful vice.

"I know what marks I've left on this body, little one," he said, voice unbearably tender. "I know what scars one gets from doing what we do. But this-" his fingers brushed your wrists, your thighs, your torso, tracing the bar code that you had marked yourself with in so many places- "this is not that." His voice, though still intolerably gentle, was taut, hinting at the tightly leashed rage that you could feel bubbling just below his deceptively calm exterior.

For so long, you had been terrified that someone would find out, would ask an unavoidable question, would see something they shouldn't have because you slipped up.

You hadn't expected it to be him.

What the hell was he going to do to you?

After another excruciating moment of consideration, he reached up and unbuckled the gag, carefully sliding it out from between your teeth and setting it on the tray beside the scissors and abandoned syringe. You worked your jaw, gratefully bringing a bit of relief to your sore muscles and parched mouth. You were so tired. So, so tired, too physically and psychologically exhausted to care what happened to you anymore. You had already been on this table for an eternity too long. Let him get what he wanted from you and finally, at long last, leave you for dead.

"What is it?" he asked evenly. "Control? Punishment? Or something else?"

Your eyes snapped open, wide with fear and shock, only to find your gaze locked together with his.

"What?" The word came out of your mouth in a grating, dry rasp.

"You heard me," he said. "Why do you do it?"

How dare he. How dare he. The absolute nerve he had, to strap you to a table you and torture you endlessly, and then find out about this and pretend that he cared.

"Fuck off," you said.

"That's no answer."

"You don't even care." You glanced away, eyes flooded with silent tears that you were too embarrassed about to let him see. "No one does."

You flinched as you felt a leather glove hand touch you, then realized that he was caressing your face. Stroking your hair. Comforting you, exactly where you needed it. Holding you like your mother did, so long ago. Touching you the way you had been starving for for so long.

How could he possibly know what you needed so desperately, much less be doing it of his own accord? What happened to him?

You finally mustered up the courage to look back at him, despite the blinding tears and your fear of what you might see. When you finally wrenched your gaze up to meet his, you were shocked by what you saw.

Pity. Concern. Genuine worry. Anger, not at you, but at the people who watched you spiral so far down and did nothing.

All this he told you with his eyes alone.

How was this possible? Stars' sake, he was your enemy. He hated you. So why was he looking at you like he was trying to offer you a lifeline when he was supposed to want you dead?

"Why are you doing this to me?" you whispered.

"Answer me," he said quietly, "And I'll stop."

You took a rattling breath in, and shut your eyes.

You had no choice.

"It's everything," you said softly. "The control. The punishment. All of it." You opened your eyes again and looked back at him as a sob built in your throat. "It keeps me alive, even though I don't deserve to be."

---

"It keeps me alive, even though I don't deserve to be."

The words hit Kylo like a dagger to the heart.

So that was why you had never acted on the desires he sensed in you, why you wanted to join him so badly but rejected his offers at every turn. That was why, when he offered you his hand, his teaching, his service, a position by his side, you almost took it before you wrenched yourself away. The Resistance never understood you, saw you as nothing more than a tool for a job. And you didn't think you deserved the what he could provide.

The sobs he had watched you struggle against for so long finally spilled past your lips in a tidal wave. He shushed you as one would a frightened animal, brushed away your tears with his thumb, and quickly undid the restraints at your ankles and wrist. He slid his arms under you and lifted you as easily as though you were a child, one arm under your legs to support your weight, the other pressing your head to his chest as you sobbed, the Force supporting you where he couldn't.

"Easy now," he said, voice low and soothing. "Easy, easy, easy- there we go, come on, come on, there's a good girl. I've got you. I've got you. You're safe now. You're safe. Good girl, come with me. Come with me, now."

He kept up the constant stream of reassurances as he carried you to his bed, holding you with one arm and the Force as he pulled back the covers with the other before setting you in the bed. He kicked off his boots and slid in beside you, pulling you close to his chest, telling you what you had needed to hear for so long.

You were going to be okay, he told you. He promised. Vowed to keep you by his side and give you everything he had to offer, fulfill your every need.

He'd give you the galaxy, if you asked for it. But all you needed was him.

The two of you stayed there until your sobs subsided, his hand absently stroking your hair, your tears soaking his shirt. Neither of you said anything, but you both knew.

You were finally where you belonged. And you were here to stay.

#kylo ren #star wars #kylo x reader #kylo x you #kylo x y/n #kylo imagine #torture mention #sh tw #implied nudity #power dynamics #tw depression #tw suicide #ask to tag #or dm to tag that works too #idk what this is but i like it #fuck it

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newbornwhumperfly · 2 years

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Hi! How did you come up with the world of Morja and company? And if I may ask, how would a Tyrus uniform (like that of Brax) look like?

hello, anon! thx for the question 💖💖💖

in answer to the second one, yes, all Legion uniforms - Legion being the peacekeeping border and domestic force in Tyrus - are a deep moss green and pretty plain in appearance. loose fitting cargo pants with tons of pockets for utility , but stylishly disguised. for formal wear, which Brax would don as a higher-up, would include a simple black tie. the jackets are also sleek but practical, close to the body, lots of pockets disguised.

Brax’s uniform would have more brass buttons to distinguish it and all uniforms in domestic service allow for personal touches alongside standard issue dress. they’d be wearing a silk blouse - something subtle but stylish - underneath and possibly a slim-fitting waistcoat.

they wouldn’t be caught dead being unfashionable 😌

as to your second question! i basically wanted to explore what a world with indentured servitude, blatant colonialism, oligarchical societal hierarchy was all thrown into stark profile in a neo-Greek capitalist caste system like New Athens is.

and then i wanted to contrast it with a society which is progressive, democratized, pacifist…on paper. in function, a petrostate neoliberal force for subtle imperialism through capitalist political aggression.

i wanted to explore how these forces shape a world where some people are left helpless and preyed upon. how even very good people are embroiled in this system when they refuse to recognize it as such. i wanted to explore autonomy, personhood, and freedom. how one harm reduces in a brutal environment, how they hold on to the pieces of themselves. having yourself taken or given away because you are told you aren’t worth owning yourself or having freedom.

i wanted to explore how compassion is the only thing that will save us. and how people become or are turned into machines without it. and how unrelenting standards brutalize people. all of that reflected in morja, a character who’s lived in various versions in my head for years

that’s basically it 💖

#thank you so much for this!! 💖#anon #asks #brax #morja and company #my writing #worldbuilding #whump #whumpee #caretaker

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fallenrepublick · 3 years

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Hi ! It's me again ! I can't believe I haven't asked this question until now as a piano player but today I've corrected my mistake.

So what instrument would Thrawn, Thrass, Maul, Vader, Tarkin, Krennic and Obi-Wan like to play the most ? And would they be good at it ?

And also what musical genre would they prefer ? Ofc soundtracks count as well.

And thx for taking your time to answer my dumb questions ! Always love your work !

Ah yes, the music question! Time to ignore my violin bias and do this well (but it might show up once or twice. We’ll see heheh)

So my base headcanon for Thrawn is that he can’t play music for the life of him. He’s already good at everything, he needs a few more inabilities in his life, don’t you agree? But if he were to learn to play something, it would be the cello. It isn’t too high in terms of range, but it’s elegant and certainly attention grabbing.

For genres, I think he would likely enjoy anything of value to the place it originates. Music is an art form after all, and most times the music people make are directly tied to the stories they want to tell and give just as much insight into the culture as a whole. He may not be much of a musician, but if he can listen to a song and glean details about the people and who they are, it’s good enough for him.

On the flip side, Thrass is definitely the musician. He’s the one with the notes and the keys running through his head all the time, the compositions working in his thoughts as he zones out. So naturally, with his huge collection of instruments in his house, he can play... pretty much anything. But he favours the piano or harpsichord, as the former is usually quite soft and designed to be sung-along to, and the latter has a nice energy. He likes the guitar just as much. But he hesitates to use it often, as it creates callouses on his finger pads that he’s self-conscious about.

His favourite type of music is anything along the vein of acoustics. Loud songs just aren’t his thing, so rock, metal, and a good bit of pop is a no-go. But the quieter songs, including instrumentals and most things classical, are perfect for him.

Maul can play the guitar, but he’ll refuse to pick it up if it isn’t electric. He will have his speakers set to ungodly volumes when he’s home alone, and he’s forgotten before to turn it down when others were around. They were scared half to death by a single note. He can also play the electric bass and the drums but doesn’t play those as often.

His favourite genres are about what you’d expect... pretty much the opposite of Thrass’s tastes. Metal, rock, anything fast. However... his guilty pleasure that no one in the universe is allowed to know about is the music he listens to when he’s working. Lo-Fi.

So Vader’s options here are extremely limited for obvious reasons, but he found enjoyment in the drums. Most of the time he doesn’t have a song in mind while he’s playing, so it’s mainly just him dicking around until he has to leave and do actual work. But it’s a great outlet for him when there’s nothing better to be doing, and there’s nothing more satisfying than hitting a flat surface really hard and creating a good rhythm.

He doesn’t really like listening to music all that much, but sometimes, he’ll have some of those Gaming Soundtracks playing through the little speakers in his helmet when he goes off to decimate a band of rebels, because it makes him feel epic.

Tarkin definitely plays something old and low-key useless like the glass harmonica or whatever. He probably should have learned something more mainstream just for the sake of playing something reasonable. He knows this. He still refuses to do it.

His music tastes are solely based around extremely arrogant sounding operas. Does he actually like them? Who knows. It’s possible he only listens to it to seem refined.

Krennic seems like the sort of person who played the clarinet in middle school and dropped out when he wasn’t chosen as section leader a year in. But he keeps claiming that he can actually play it, because it makes him sound talented.

He’ll listen to the Top 50 hits sometimes, because he genuinely likes whatever ends up on there and truly trusts that those are accurately rated. He adamantly denies it whenever someone suggests that producers are the ones that pay for certain songs to end up on the list, saying that it’s ridiculous to believe such “conspiracy theories.” Although... he mostly just uses his spotify to listen to Ted Talks about believing in yourself.

Somehow, Obi-Wan gives off the energy of someone who plays the flute and/or piccolo. It’s portable and fun to play, and a lot of music designed for other instruments can be used instead of having to transpose it. He likes the flexibility regarding it, and yes, he takes requests. He’s pretty good if you have nothing else to compare it to...

This man listens to the oldest songs. We’re talking 70s, 60s hits. Beatles, Frankie Valli, Bee Gees, that kind of thing. He may look young, but his taste in music is straight up boomer, and you can blame that one on Qui-Gon.

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yodawgiherd · 3 years

Text

Incantation of Incineration pt.2

>>>Read on AO3<<<

As we were blessed by a continuation of the GODLIKE fanart, I have decided to keep my word (for once). Check the picture out if you didn't yet, you are missing out O_O -----> https://twitter.com/NxngOna/status/1388902556693405706/photo/1 Anyway, this one is a bit longer and a tad more sinful than the first one, so beware. Unless you are here for the filth, that is.

How does one control a demon?

That was the question at the forefront of Mikasa’s mind in the last week. Despite her doubts, despite all of her previous bad luck she finally managed to summon one but he was not obeying her in the slightest. The opposite in fact, she very much remembered his whispered threatening question.

“Do you feel in power?”

She didn’t, not back then, and Mikasa wanted to be prepared for the next time. Of course that there would be a next time! She had so many questions to ask, so many wishes to fulfill so many…

Ok, easy, first the controlling part.

The last time he was here the Demon was doing whatever he wanted. While it was only eating her out, for some reason, it was done out of his will and the goth was simply swept in it. Never again. Next time they meet, she will be the one in control.

Yet it was hard to fulfill such a wish.

The internet gave her dozens of websites, hundreds of articles and discussions, but combing through them Mikasa didn’t see anything that caught her interest. Searching the amazing book she found in the library, she didn’t find any help there either. If there was a demon-binding ritual, she missed it.

In her anguish the goth asked the smartest person she knew – her friend Armin.

“Ar, any idea how I could control a demon?”

He looked at her, pushing his glasses up a bit.

“What are you talking about?”

“I summoned one last week but I couldn’t make him do what I wanted.”

“I see…”, he didn’t believe her, of course he didn’t, but Mikasa didn’t mind that.

He would still help her because Armin was a ray of sunshine and the best friend a girl could ask for.

“Any specifics about this demon?”, he asked, “Might help me in my search.”

“Well, he was human-looking, but with horns and black claws. He also had strange markings under his eyes and there were torn shackles at his wrists.”

“Horns, markings, shackles…”, dutiful as ever, Armin marked it all down, “Okay, I’ll do some searching and see what I can find.”

Leaning over Mikasa hugged him, whispering a quiet thank you into his ear.

As always, Armin delivered.

It was in the evening when Mikasa was laying on her bed, eyes rowing over the text in her new spellbook when her phone pinged.

A: Found an article that matches the demon you told me about. Apparently you can bind him to you by the shackles.

M: what do I have to do?

A: You need a key which you have, use the one you keep wearing.

Mikasa did like to wear an old key around her neck, an old trinket she didn’t even remember where it came from.

A: The spell is described in the article, use that and the “Demon” should obey :)

Yea. “Demon”. Whatever.

M: thx, I owe you one <3

Opening the link Mikasa’s eyes quickly scanned the spell, muttering under her breath. She lacked a few key ingredients, the biggest one being a live bird (?) for some reason. The required red scarf – that was another thing that Mikasa owned, making her wonder just what kind of spell this was.

Luckily her parents were gone on another business trip and wouldn’t be back for another two weeks, giving her ample time to gather these things. She bought a canary in a pet shop, a new set of black candles and few flowers. Back home she made those into a flower crown, just as the spell required.

In the middle of the room stood the birdcage, the canary watching Mikasa prance around. The key was put in front of the cage, the flower crown around it. Last the scarf – the goth circled it around the crown before putting the candles in required positions, lighting them up.

There, that should be everything.

Keeping the article open on her phone Mikasa began chanting, strange words once again leaving her lips. Whatever those meant she had no idea, but the effect was almost immediate. First of all the candles snuffed out. Then the flower crown caught fire, burning into nothing in a split second. After that the scarf moved, flying towards her and wrapping itself around her neck without anyone touching it. Last it was the key – it turned on the ground with a screech and suddenly the birdcage sprung open, the canary flapping its wings and disappearing out of the window in a split second.

Mikasa stared at it all with wide eyes.

Well, that was quite something. When everything calmed and nothing moved anymore, she concluded the ritual. Hiding the birdcage and scarf and putting the key back around her neck, the goth prepared the usual pentagram with candles, pulling out the knife. Ready to cut herself under the eye again, she said the spell, raising the blade to her skin.

Yet before it could make contact, the smoke explosion was back.

Knocking her backward same as before, the Demon was there in full glory, eyes immediately flying to Mikasa. Thin lips twisted into a grin that exposed the sharp teeth.

“You don’t have to cut yourself anymore, my beauty, I have your scent now. When you call me, I will answer.”

Collecting herself from the ground, Mikasa took a deep breath and straightened, staring the demon in the eye. With just a slightly trembling hand she gripped the key around her neck, thrusting it towards him. It glowed, his shackles did too, and the demon’s face changed from smug to surprised.

“What is this?” he wondered out loud, raising his hand to inspect the torn chains.

“A spell I used.”, Mikasa said triumphantly, all giddy inside that it worked, “I bound you, you are now under my control.”

“Is that so…”

Slow, testing, he took a step towards her, the chains rattling slightly. Summoning all her mental strength Mikasa stood fast, clutching the key like a lifeline.

“S-Stop!”, she commanded the demon, praying to the dark god that the spell will work.

The demon’s whole body shook as he tried to take another step, muscles refusing to move.

“You…”, his eyes narrowed, a dangerous glint entering them, “You don’t know what you are playing with…”

With a grunt he threw himself against the invisible bonds, straining.

“Release me! Or I will make you regret it.”

Despite all these dangerous words, despite all the threats he was forced to stand still and Mikasa felt her lips curving into a smile. She won. Finally, she had a demon under her control.

“I don’t think that I want to do that.”, confident she circled the frozen statue, admiring his body now that she could take a good look, “I think that I will keep you.”

He had a lot of scars, crisscrossing all over his skin, cuts of all shapes and sizes. Fascinated by one that went around his throat, Mikasa reached out, running her fingers over it.

And that was a mistake.

Fast as lighting the demon’s hand caught her wrist, pulling her body against his. Suddenly staring upwards into his smirk, Mikasa felt all her newfound confidence melting away because there was pure rage hidden in the emerald orbs.

“That was a good spell you had prepared, witch, but unfortunately for you, I am very good at attaining my freedom.”

“I-…”, she tried defending herself but the demon wouldn’t let her speak.

His other hand came up, circling Mikasa’s neck and for a second she feared that he will choke her to death. That fear didn’t come true as instead of pressure she could feel his fingers drawing patterns into her skin.

“Let’s see how you like being controlled.”, he whispered, and suddenly there was searing pain on Mikasa’s neck.

She stumbled backward, released from his embrace, and fell to her knees, hands clutching her throat. It burned like hell itself and Mikasa screamed in pain, but as quickly as it appeared it was gone, leaving nothing but a memory in its wake.

Or not, as there was something hugging her neck now.

Carefully tracing the thing with her fingertips Mikasa identified a new choker. She had one before, a simple strip of black leather, but this one was different. It was more like a tight collar, adorned with metal spikes all around.

“How does it feel, being collared like a dog?”, the demon rumbled, getting her attention.

“I… Strange.”, she gulped, realizing that having this “gift” from a demon might not be a good thing for her wellbeing, “C-Can you take it off?”

“I can but I’m not going to. First I have to show you what amazing things it can do.”, he pointed one black claw towards the magic book, lying on Mikasa’s bed, “You do love spells, don’t you? And what better magic is there than demonic one.”

“Wha-“

Again, the demon didn’t let her finish.

“What’s your name?”, he asked.

Mikasa didn’t want to tell him. Names had power, even more so in magic, and telling yours to a demon is a bad move. But as soon as the question left his lips she found herself answering, unable to stop the words from tumbling out.

“Mikasa Ackerman.”

He grinned upon seeing her confusion.

“See? I own you now, mortal. As long as the collar is on you, I can make you do anything I want.”, his eyes raked all over her body, a hunger appearing in them – the same one that was there the last time they were together.

“Anything…”

The thin, abnormally long tongue slid out of his mouth, licking his lips.

“And there is a lot I want to do with you.”

Despite literally owning her right now, Mikasa didn’t hear any malicious intent in his voice. There was the primal hunger, lust, and also a fair bit of anger but no real hate or resentment. He would make her pay, but it would not be done in a way that she couldn’t handle.

The implications left not only a tingle of fear in her, but also a tingle of arousal, and the goth unconsciously pressed her thighs together to hide it. Only it didn’t escape the demon’s ever-seeing gaze.

“Stand up.”, was his next order and Mikasa did so, body moving on its own.

“Take off your skirt.”, this time her face boiled red as she mechanically obeyed, and still the demon wasn’t done with humiliating her, “And your stockings too.”

Just as she unclipped the first garter, a new order followed.

“Do it slowly. Give me a nice show, I like watching you.”

And she did so, rolling the black material down her legs in the most sensual way she could muster, unwilling and unable to meet the demon’s eyes. She could feel them though, as his gaze burned its way all over her pale legs, now bare of any clothing. With her lower half in nothing but the black panties Mikasa straightened, waiting on the next command from her infernal master.

He was breathing heavily now, she could hear, every exhale laden with maddening hunger for her. Watching her undress got all the fires going, it would seem.

“As much as I would like to get on with the fun, I do have to punish you for trying to bind me.”, he twirled his long fingers, “Turn around and bend over, hands on the bed.”

Again, her body mechanically obeyed, turning around and bending over, exposing her ass to him. And what an ass it was, even better than the demon remembered. Pale, firm, and perfectly shaped, the memories of it in his hands made his mouth go dry. Not to mention the thighs right under, because those deliciously thick and muscled legs…. He was beyond hungry.

Not yet, he reminded himself, first the punishment. Then the fun.

There was a clink behind her and because peeking was not forbidden she looked over her shoulder, seeing that one of the multiple belts came loose from the demon’s black pants. He was twisting the leather between his fingers, snapping it.

The image itself was almost enough to make her fall on her face.

“I believe that a few lashes with the belts will do you good, wouldn’t you agree?”

It wasn’t an order, she realized, it was a question. The demon, a literal demon from hell, was asking her consent. Normally that situation would be so funny that Mikasa would burst out laughing, but that did not fit what was happening inside her body.

Logically she should say no, of course, but logic didn’t have a place here. She summoned a demon – one that gave her some incredible oral pleasure during their first encounter, one she tried to bind, unsuccessfully, and one that was about to give her some good old spanking in retaliation.

Fuck, she wanted it, she wanted it so much.

Biting her bottom lip Mikasa nodded, but the demon wasn’t satisfied with that.

“Words, Mikasa, use those.”

This time it was an order but he didn’t use the magic collar and when the goth girl spoke it was completely out of her free will.

“Yes, I deserve it.”

“Were you a bad girl?”

“I was… I was a bad girl, sir.”

Mikasa added that last bit unconsciously, and from the deep grumble she could guess the effect it had on the demon. Ooh, he liked that.

“Where I come from, there is plenty of sinners like that, so I have a good idea on how to fix you.”, the buckle clinked as he swayed the belt, “I want you to count the lashes, can you do that for me?”

“Y-Yes, sir.”

A satisfied huff and a bit of silence after, making Mikasa wonder if…

The first blow landed on her ass, the slap of leather against skin loud. Taken by surprise she cried out, the flare of pain running through the whole body.

“One.”, she pushed out and was rewarded by a second sting. It was painful, sure, but it also sent pleasurable tremors towards her core. Mikasa was always a bit of pain enjoyer, and this rough treatment was something from her wildest dreams. Being punished by a demon was more like fanfiction than reality, but it was happening to her -right here and right now, and she couldn’t be more turned on.

By the fifth hit, there were tears in her eyes.

By the tenth she was dancing on her toes, clenching against the belt.

Fifteen was enough to satisfy the sadistic demon, and when she cried that number through her tears, the belt dropped to the ground. Suddenly Mikasa was picked up, turned around, and practically slammed against the wall. Her legs automatically hooked around the demon’s waist while his hands held her, one around the neck while the other caught her wrist and pressed it against the wall, immobilizing her.

He was sweating, droplets of liquid sliding over his scarred skin but it wasn’t because of the physical exertion. No, it was caused by the inhuman effort it took to hold himself back from ravaging the teary-eyed goth right here and there.

Even as a demon, he had certain standards.

“You took the whipping well, too well even. Tell me, do you like pain?”

“A little bit…”, she muttered, very conscious of the fire raging between her slick thighs.

A grin spread across his handsome features, the demon couldn’t help but admire her face, now that they were this close. Her grey eyes were regarding him with a hint of fear in them, but there was also the undeniable arousal smoldering, and he wanted to see that fire burn.

Letting go of her for a second the demon grabbed the bottom of her black top, bunched between their bodies, and pulled upwards, revealing her chest. Nice pair of firm tits, covered by a simple black bra, just as pale as the rest of her.

Fuck, he wanted to suck on them.

Returning his hand to its previous place, anchoring Mikasa’s wrist against the wall, the demon spoke up.

“I punished you so now we can move on to a more pleasurable activity. However - I may be a damned soul but despite your stunts I do not wish to force myself on you. So I’ll ask now, and I order you to answer me truthfully – do you want me to go on?”

The goth girl in his arms shook with what he guessed was pure lust, squirming against the restrictive hold he had on her body. Her midnight hair slid over his nose, the addictive scent reminding the demon of just how amazing she tasted.

Forcing himself to wait was torture, yet he held on.

Meanwhile, Mikasa’s mind was doing leaps and bounds all over the room. Her ass hurt but it was nothing compared to what was happening in the other place – she was beyond wet at this point, so turned on that stopping her hips from rubbing on the demon’s amazingly muscles stomach was a chore. Yes, she had to prevent herself from humping him like a sex-starved maniac. His words weren’t an order, just like last time, and when Mikasa spoke it was her own lust doing the talking, nothing else.

“Yes.”

“Do you want me to touch you?”, he continued.

“Yes.”

“Now…”, he leaned closer, next words a whisper, “ Do you want me to fuck you?”

“Hng... I…”

“Answer!”

“Y-YES! Please!”

The self-satisfied smirk grew even wider.

“Well, all you had to do was ask…”

Letting go of her wrist for the second time the demon moved his hand between her legs, rubbing her place of weakness through the dark underwear.

“So wet for me, so willing…”, gently he nudged her face with his nose, rubbing skin on skin, “Is this what you want so much? To be railed by a demon?”

PleasePleasePlease

Unable to speak from the sheer amount of want inside her, Mikasa settled on nodding rapidly.

The hand moved again, much to her dismay, this time stopping in front of Mikasa’s face. A bit of transmutation magic later the claws were gone, replaced by black fingernails.

“Open.”, an order this time and Mikasa’s mouth fell open immediately.

Pushing his fingers between her lips, a new command followed.

“Suck.”

Again she obeyed, swiping her tongue alongside those long digits.

“As much as I want to take you right now, I must stretch you out a bit first.” The demon went on monologuing, his eyes glued to her face, “I’d prefer it if you screamed in pleasure when I fuck you, not in pain.”

Those words went right into Mikasa’s core as she throbbed, impatient to finally have him touch her. Maybe sensing her eagerness the demon pulled the fingers out, dropping his hand between her legs instead. Panties nudged aside and suddenly he was rubbing her directly, fingers parting her dripping pink lips. A slight tap on her swollen clit had her gasping for air, but the opened mouth proved to be a mistake.

The demon practically attacked her, lurching forward to press his lips against hers. The abnormal tongue was back, once again slipping into her mouth and caressing the familiar places. At the same time, his digits finally pushed inside her, slipping into Mikasa’s wetness with a somewhat disgusting sound. The moan forced from her throat by the penetration was swallowed by him, keeping her silent.

For now.

Even without the main treat it was still a full meal. The demon fingered her expertly, curving his digits to rub the good places inside while also keeping his thumb occupied by toying with Mikasa’s clit. The kisses were rough and breathtaking, sucking any oxygen from her and he only left her lips to attack the neck instead, biting and kissing everywhere, renewing the faded lovebites from a week ago. Again and again, those sharp teeth sunk into the porcelain skin and Mikasa felt like she was going to go crazy.

Not even fucking her yet but she was already on the edge. The demon sensed it, of course, having his fingers deep inside her, feeling the contractions of her walls grow faster and more desperate. Smirking into her skin, a single word fell from his lips.

“No.”

The collar burned around Mikasa’s throat and she found her body obeying, disregarding her wishes. On the edge but not falling, she found herself unable to climax, somehow being prevented from doing so by vile demon magic.

“You bast-“

Her protest was cut short because her lips were slammed by his own, stealing Mikasa’s ability to express herself. Whining in protest she was rudely ignored by the demon, who took his time to scissor the fingers inside her instead, stretching her open, preparation for what was to come.

Despite being denied her release Mikasa’s body was more than enjoying this. She was moaning into the kiss, writhing on his fingers, ready and waiting for him. Seven hells be damned, he couldn’t wait any longer. Tearing the panties away with a flick of his wrist and letting his pants dissolve into a puff of black smoke, the demon grabbed his painfully hard length as he angled it correctly against the inviting wetness.

Push.

Mikasa’s eyes widened, and her mouth fell open when she felt the head of his member parting her. She didn’t get a chance to look at it but judging from how it felt the demon was rather well endowed. The girth was impressive, stretching her beyond anything she felt before right down to her limits. This was a lot she was taking, and the demon was unyielding, hands gripping her waist as he impaled her, inch by inch. Insistent he forced himself in and Mikasa couldn’t do anything about it.

Yet her body accommodated to this fullness and the unpleasant feeling was replaced by a pleasant one. He went on and on until she feared that he will ram himself all the way into her guts but just as she was about to ask him to stop, the demon was fully sheathed.

Mikasa had never felt this filled in her life. The head of his member was pressed against the deepest part of her sex, no more space and no more length combining.

“Fuck,”, he cursed, “we fit together perfectly.”

On her part the goth couldn’t say a word, so full of him that thinking was impossible. Not that the demon mind that.

Gripping her waist he slowly pulled out, letting his length rub all the nice places inside her. When only the tip remained he reversed his move, pushing in again. In it went with a wet sound, out it went glistening with her juices, and he almost went feral upon seeing that.

Pushing down the need to ravage her, to split her open by ramming himself inside with full strength he continued this gentle dance of his hips, forcing her body to get used to him. Only when he felt her muscles weakening - when she gave way did he speed up.

In and out like a jackhammer, the demon was finally rutting into her with added strength and Mikasa couldn’t take it. She whined and moaned and gasped, unable to control her body at all. Her head fell back, knocking at the wall while her fingers curved against his back. She was holding onto him for dear life, black fingernails creating bloody lines in their path and adding to the plethora of scars on the demon’s back.

Still she couldn’t climax, still the collar’s magic prevented her from doing so and the goth could feel her sanity slipping away. She would beg if she could but Mikasa’s voice wasn’t of any use to her, anytime she opened her mouth only a sound of pure pleasure came out.

Helplessly open, Mikasa’s “Ah-Ah-Ah” was a direct feed to the demon’s ego. Oh, and what an egoist he was. Her voice was one thing, but when she throbbed down there – that was a feeling the demon etched into his memory with each thrust.

Edged, led on, and denied with the orgasm at the border of her vision, Mikasa was truly losing it.

She couldn’t speak so she screamed, screamed in pure desperation because the demon was now ramming the deepest part of her over and over again, grunting into her neck. Mentally she begged – with her eyes, with her touches, with her legs that squeezed his waist.

This was some truly hardcore fucking she was on the receiving end of, and Mikasa needed to let go, she would go crazy otherwise. The coil in her stomach was wound impossibly tight but unable to snap and it was getting too much to handle. The tears that fell from the grey eyes slipped over the red cheeks and landed on the demon’s body, finally waking him up from whatever pit of pleasure he was in.

Watching her, listening to her, and feeling her all around him, the demon deemed the punishment complete. Not even slowing down in the wild hammering of his hips, the slaps of flesh against flesh echoing through the room, he spoke. Three words, one sentence, and it was the most beautiful sound that Mikasa ever heard in her life.

“Cum for me.”

The collar’s magic was gone, the barrier dissipated, the coil snapped and the dam broke. Mikasa howled, her eyes rolling back and vision going white, black spots dancing all over it. The orgasm ripped through her entire being, from the tips of her curled toes to the ends of her sweat-matted midnight hair. She clutched to the demon because he was the only link to reality that she had, and the goth had to hold onto something otherwise her mind threatened to break completely, swept away by the overwhelming raw pleasure.

Sensing that if he kept it up she would truly go insane the demon slowed down, letting himself fully enjoy this feeling. Her walls fluttered like the wings of a trapped butterfly, the already tight passage grew even tighter and pulsed around his whole length. It felt amazing, out of this world and if he wasn’t a demon he would call it heavenly.

The slight wiggle of her hips woke him up from that place, putting him back to reality. Mikasa was watching him with wide grey eyes, pupils completely blown, the movements suggesting that she wanted to go down from her perch against the wall. She probably thought that this was it, that one mind-shattering orgasm is enough of a gift.

She was wrong.

“None of that.,” he denied her, tightening his grip on her sweat-slicked body, “I am far from being done with you.”

With those words, the most intense night of the goth’s life began.

During his aggressive fucking Mikasa’s remaining clothes, namely the black top and bra, were torn to shreds, leaving her in nothing but the spiked collar around her neck. In some strange need to bare her completely the demon even snapped her own choker away, leaving only the one he gifted her on.

The key was also allowed to stay and it dangled uselessly between her now fully exposed breasts, reminding Mikasa of her failed attempt to capture the demon. Now she was paying for it, when his sharp teeth closed around a nipple, sweetly tormenting the sensitive flesh.

Overall the demon took his time with her chest, kissing, licking, groping, and biting all over her breasts. Her chest was ravaged and Mikasa was bound to have so many bruises bloom on the skin tomorrow. Yet that was a problem for the future Mikasa to handle, the current one cared only about how great it felt, to have the demon’s teeth and tongue all over her tits.

She was taken in more positions and in more places than Mikasa could even count. The bastard spiked her pleasure with pain, slapping her ass while taking her from behind, irritating the welts that didn’t even get a chance to fully form.

Every suitable, and some unsuitable, place in her room was defiled by their activities as she was being maneuvered here and there by his unyielding touch. The demon expertly shifted his torment from denial to overstimulation, giving her more than she could handle and then some. He fucked her right into an orgasm and then right through it, holding her writhing body as she lost her consciousness in an unending stream of pleasure.

A sharp bite into the neck woke her, but if Mikasa thought that she was getting a break she was wrong. It felt like the longest night of the goth’s life and it was far from over.

Mikasa came a lot, losing count early into the debauchery, but the demon never finished, holding his release back. He also never tired, his demonic stamina far outpacing the one of a poor mortal. While at the start Mikasa was an active participant in their activities, by the end of it she was practically limp, praying to the dark god that she will survive this endless assault on her body and mind.

When the morning sun peeked at them from behind the windows, when the demon saw that his partner was on the verge of total blackout from sheer exhaustion, slipping in and out of consciousness, did he allow his iron self-control to break.

Coherent enough to pull out at least, he decorated her muscled stomach with spurts of unnaturally hot release. Wouldn’t want any half-demons running around now, would he? It was a lot, a night's worth of it, and Mikasa felt some splash as high as her face, but she was too far gone to care. Being a perfect demonic gentleman he even cleaned after himself with a muttered spell.

Only after himself though, so Mikasa’s filth was left behind for her to take care of. Whatever it was the limitation of the spell or just the demon’s twisted sense of humor, that would remain a mystery.

Just like that, it was over.

He was slipping out of her embrace and soon would be gone, leaving Mikasa with nothing but the ache and exhaustion. A deep part of her needed something, anything to hold onto, a word to connect these memories to, and “the demon” didn’t cut it anymore. She reached out, weakly grasping his wrist but he didn’t pull away, turning back to look at her.

“Please…”, she whispered, only half-coherent, “What’s your name?”

“My name? Demon’s names have powers, great powers, we do not give it lightly.”

“You know mine, it’s only fair.”

He snorted.

“A mortal name in exchange for an eternal one? Hardly equal.”

“Please…”, she begged again, “I want to remember you by it.”

For some reason he couldn’t explain, those words were tugging at the very base of the demon’s existence. He shouldn’t be this affected yet this mortal, this exhausted, sweaty, and filthy mess that could hardly string two words together after a night of demonic sex, this bundle of trembling muscles and pale skin marked by blooming bruises he left behind, this beautiful piece of ass that was welted by his belt just had power over him.

It wasn’t any spell the demon knew, but it was perhaps the most powerful pull he ever felt in his whole damned existence. He couldn’t say no to her.

He simply couldn’t.

“Eren.”, he said, “My name is Eren.”

Leaning down he pushed some of the sweat matted hair away from her angelic face.

“I hope that I won’t have to wait long until you summon me again, Mikasa.”

Giving in to the temptation the demon pressed a last kiss to her forehead, strangely loving and very un-demonic. And with that he was gone, disappearing back to wherever he came from.

On the ruined bed Mikasa sighed, already missing his warmth.

Was there a way to make him stay longer? Maybe even… permanently? The thought of having a full-time demon boyfriend made her giggle and she pressed her face into the pillow to muffle it.

The leather choker-slash-collar was still on her neck, gently tight around the skin, most likely left behind as a gift, and Mikasa already knew that it would become her everyday accessory. The spiked looked might be a bit too aggressive for most people, but she couldn’t care less. It was a gift from a demon, her demon, and she would treasure it.

Eren. His name was Eren and she would be seeing him again.

Soon.

#eremika #fanfic #snk

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