#and like. neither one Looks wrong either. but they are noticeably different so its strange

[jenomov]

nurse’s office (l.jn)

wc: 2k

the office was cold.

there was never anything comforting about doctor offices. with sick people either coughing or sneezing, it bothered jeno to death.

actually, he had every reason to leave considering there was nothing wrong with him.

after his dance practice with jaemin, the pink haired boy wanted him to go and get checked out just in case there was anything wrong. he never spoke up about something like that. it was strange, but jeno caught on quite quickly when he saw haechan talking to the buffoon around the corner, with hushed voices. jeno had heard his name brought up, and began the trek to the nearest doctor's office. he knew if he hadn't, he wasn't going to be left alone by either of the two because neither knew how to mind their own business.

he had to admit, however, there was something peculiar going on in his wrist that he had no issues in getting checked out. so, there he sat; awaiting for his name to be called.

he'd made sure to sit close to the door that he needed to go through once his name was called. he didn't want to walk by all the people that were actually sick, believing if he had, he would've caught something himself.

no one wanted to see a sick jeno.

with his phone in one hand, he scrolled through his instagram feed, bored out of his mind. the only noise that filled up the quiet room was the constant typing on the computer the nurses did, light chatter from a couple a few rows away from him, aside from several coughs from other patients.

a vein forced its way across his forehead when he sees a post of a certain colored haired prick. it was a picture of the two of them at the dance practice, in the hallways, walking together. jeno was clearly not paying attention to jaemin at all, and hadn't known about the picture whilst the blank expression in the image.

"annoying," he muttered, and almost commented a colorful comment underneath the post when he heard his name get called.

"Lee Jeno?"

he looked up with a half annoyed look in them taking so long to see him, and nodded. "hi. yes."

"i’m very sorry for calling for you so late," you said with a light chuckle, ushering him through the door and letting him follow you down the hallway. "we've been quite busy today."

jeno was going to reply with something dry in false understanding when he noticed the height difference. he wasn't as tall as jisung, his other friend, but he stood at a height good enough to make you look smaller than you really were. he didn't miss the curves of your hips and supple breasts that all tried their best to stay confined in your tight nurse's dress.

as he followed into what looked to be the room he was going to be in, he mentally berated himself for falling as low as thinking provocatively about a complete stranger. he made a mental note to do better at distancing himself from haechan since that was who he was sure was trying to rub off on him.

"you can sit anywhere you'd like. i’ll just check your basics, put it all down in the computer and the doctor will be in so that you can ask all of the questions you need to. now,—" you took the stethoscope from around your neck, and placed the cold metal piece over his heart. "can you breathe in for me? then breathe out slowly."

"of course."

he let you check everything you needed, and was patient when you put all of the information in a file for him. as he waited for you to be done, he drummed his fingers against the cheap hospital bed, eyes roaming along the room, scanning anything he could see. he noted how bland everything looked. it wasn't stimulating at all so he went back to watching you and his breath hitched.

you were squatting as you were finishing up typing the necessary information, resting your body weight on your toes. jeno noticed that there wasn't a chair or anything for you to sit on, and almost thanked the heavens for such an inconvenience (for you).

he was able to see the outline of the pink panties that you had on, and had to readjust the way he was sitting to keep from growing an erection at the sight like some schoolboy. it already annoyed him that you were dressed in such a manner for a nurse's line of work, but he was more put off that he kept ogling you even when he felt bad for doing so. you were just so...

"did you hear me?"

"sorry?"

you giggled. "i said you're all set. the doctor will be in shortly to discuss things further with you. it was nice meeting you, Mr. Lee. have a good one!"

it was a mystery to what had made jeno genuinely speak up in stopping you from leaving the room. when you stopped to hear him out, there was a clear blush to his cheeks (and ears) as he racked his brain on what he was going to say to you. there was nothing else you needed to do for him. what was he supposed to say?

"uh..." he used his index finger to scratch at his temple as he said the first thing that came to mind. "could you check my wrist? it’s been giving me strange shoots of pain for a good while.."

you blinked, and shuffled on your feet as you thought about it. you tilted your head a little with a tiny smile. "well, it's a good thing a doctor will be seeing you, yes?"

jeno felt like he was out of things to say at that point. you were right. you were only a nurse after all. perhaps you weren't qualified to do what he was wanting you to. maybe you had other patients waiting on you to check on. it was quite selfish to keep you in the room with him.

"yes...i apologize. i can wait. thank you."

you visibly pouted, and his calculating eyes caught it before you blanked your expression. "um...well..." you took a peek out into the hallway and found it empty. what if you weren't needed? the doctor you were going to get for jeno was still busy with another patient whom had been having a few asthma attacks so the kid would need a new prescription and some other things...so what was the harm in staying with the beautiful man a bit longer? plus, his poor wrist was hurting him. it couldn't hurt to just go and take a small look at it...would it?

you closed the door, and sent him a warm smile. "let's check out that hand, shall we?"

————

"oh i see… wow, i can quite literally feel the tension in your hand here... how long has it been this way, sir?"

jeno found it incredibly difficult to remember your question with you caressing his hand the way you were and how you referred to him as 'sir’. it gave him a sense of power over you, like his height did. your voice was also a bit soft. everything about you was hard to ignore. he was beginning to feel less and less ashamed by his thoughts with you by the minute. he cleared his throat before answering, "not long. it's not painful but it’s bothersome, if nothing else."

it was also the way you were a bit nestled between his thighs as you checked him out. your cute body in front of him in nothing but a tight, flimsy white dress; your breasts ready to burst out of it. your pretty lips in a pout and your eyebrows furrowed in thought as you studied his hand that he had noticed was a lot bigger compared to yours. another physical difference that he liked very much.

"i see. would you want medication for the slight pain? or is that not necessary?" you asked him, letting his hand go that dropped back into his lap. you already missed the warmth that it provided you. jeno shook his head. "no need. i don't take medication."

"oh?"

"yeah.”

"i see."

the room was silent for a moment, and unbeknownst to either of you, it was filled with sexual tension that emitted from the both of you. he wanted to touch you, and you wanted him to touch you. it was just against everything your job stood for, and you were terrified of getting caught. he was above doing something so out of character, and refused to make such a bold move. it was up to you.

"um...are you...maybe...hurting somewhere else as well? that i should check out?"

the way your eyes peered up at him as you waited for him to answer made his cock twitch painfully against his slacks. he had never wanted to fuck a complete stranger senseless so bad in his entire life until in that moment, looking at you. so oblivious, so innocent, so cute... like a pretty fawn in front of a hungry lion, ready to devour it whole. you whole.

he cleared his throat, and hummed. "since you asked..." he moved his legs further apart, his eyes on you like a hawk. his eyes darkened as he stared you down. "—there is a place that needs immediate attention. will you take care of it... nurse?"

your breathing picked up as you watched him rub a hand down his thigh, taunting you. as nervous as you were, you had the courage to squat down in front of him, between his legs. you kept your eyes on his, and licked your lips. you knew what he was asking of you. there wasn't an unsure part in you. you wanted this. wanted him. even if you got caught and lost your job. it would've been worth it for a man as beautiful as him.

"yes, sir."

"such an obedient girl. just as i imagined."

jeno plucked the pins that were holding your hair up in a neat bun, out and watched your pretty tresses fall across your shoulders. he ran a hand through your hair, and gripped it at the root. "what do you think you'll get if you do a good job?"

you gulped. "a k-kiss?"

he chuckled. "stupid slut,— he grabbed your jaw, the action made your eyes water, but you loved it. “—you'll have the pleasure of my cum running down your throat. that's rewarding enough, don't you think?" you nodded, wanting to take anything he was willing to give you.

the hand in your hair tugged your head back roughly, making you gasp. he frowned. "why haven't you started? what are you waiting for?"


"i..i th-thought-"

"for a nurse, you sure are a dumb one. get started or someone will catch you in a very compromising position here." there was a hint of amusement in his voice that made your nipples hardened. God, was he turning you on.

"y-yes sir."

you unzipped him, and he let you pull his cock past his boxers and into the cool air. you had him in your hand, and felt how heavy he was. he was big, huge even. had girth and length, which still managed to surprise you as it twitched in your grasp. you let out a puff of hot air, taking him in. he wasn't hairy, but he wasn't clean shaven. neat, which made perfect sense. it matched his personality. you traced your polished finger on the vein near his tip, making him groan. heat rushed to your face when you felt fingers brush against the underside of your clothed breast.

"i won't ask you to take it off, but i do want to see you." he wasn't specific, but you weren't dumb. you knew what he wanted.

"y-yes." you quickly unfastened the buttons to the front of your dress, and let your breasts spill out, the dress halfway buttoned underneath your boobs, holding them against their weight. "is this what you want, sir?" his eyes ate up the sight, hungrily.

"good girl, now suck me off like the good slut you are will ya?”

© jenomov do not repost/translate

#jenomov #jeno smut #lee jeno #jeno x reader #jeno lee #nct dream smut #nct dream x reader #jeno #jeno scenarios #lee jeno smut #jeno fanfic

[emotionallyattachednerd]

Sweet Honey | G1 Bumblebee x f!robot reader | NSFW 18+

Word count: 1700+

Warnings: Smut ( spike in valve and first time ) and two inexperienced bugs. NSFW 18+.

Notes: Don't have enough G1 stories written, but slowly will build up over time I hope. Thanks anon for sending through this was rather cute and sweet to write. Enjoy. 🥰

☕ Coffee

Being the two youngest among the autobots it's no surprise from anyone that you both ended up together. You two were like teenage lovebirds, sweet to one another and always expressing your love. There is one thing though that hasn't quite happened yet, and that's interfacing.

There's no skill from either of you when it comes to interfacing, both completely new to it, virgins, and it's something you've both held out on for a long time, seeing no right moment for it to happen just yet. You did wonder why you haven't felt the need to do it with Bumblebee yet, though when you both talk to Ratchet about it he says it's normal to feel not ready, and that everyone feels different when it comes to something so intimate. He expressed that rushing or forcing it to happen won't help, and might cause either of you to express distress or regret.

So, you wait, and wait, until the moment happens.

On earth it's the new year, an event humans celebrated before the start of a new year. You and Bumblebee sat on top of the ark having the perfect view of where the fireworks were going to be set off. Everyone else was doing their own thing, even taking part of the celebration with Sparkplug, Spike and Carly among the other humans.

Bumblebee and you decided to have your time together, to spend time and share your love in your own privacy. Resting yourself against his chassis you gently trace your digit against his arm plating, optics looking over the spectacular view you both have, knowing you have the best seats in the house for the fireworks, which were to be set off within the next hour.

"Earth sure has its own beauty." You hear yourself whisper calmly.

"That it does, wish everyone sees it like we do." Bumblebee agrees through a tender hum. "Guess that's what makes us good together."

"Aye, very true." You snuggle into his side, nuzzling your face gently into the crook of his neck and let out a low purr. For a moment you continue to do this, before you feel his frame twitch slightly and hear his venting hitch. "What's wrong?"

"N-nothing..."

"You're a terrible liar." You can't help but smirk faintly before lifting yourself to look at him better. "Bee, what's got you tense?" You then feel his frame more, noticing his heat increasing. "You're heating up..."

"Yeah, I know." He sounds nervous, unsure even. "I...it's fine, I'll be fine."

"Don't keep secrets from me. You never have before, don't start now." You touch his face plating, caressing the area and getting him to look at you. "You can tell me anything, always."

For a moment he's quiet, before finally confessing. "Remember what Ratchet said? The moment will happen when it happens..."

"Yeah?" Confused, you stare at him, than you slowly figure out what's wrong with him. "Bee, are you aroused?"

"I think so?"

"Oh..."

He's indeed warming up more as you continue to caress his cheek plating without even realising it, and by the time you do, his plating is so warm, pinkish hue appearing in his face as you feel yourself growing oddly warm too. The sight of him like this, it sends a strange warm buzz through you, and now it's your turn to crumble in nerves.

"I think I am too." You barely manage to say while fiddling with your servos.

"Alright. So...what now?" Bumblebee sounds embarrassed, but you feel it too. Neither of you had any experience, and you already guessed that when it did happen it was going to be a learning experience, it just so happened suddenly without warning.

"Maybe we could touch one another?" You've seen videos, you both have of course, so you still had an idea where to begin.

Bumblebee nods, going along with it, and you lay back down before shyly moving your servo between his thighs and across his heated panel. You hear him let out a hitched exhale at contact, the heat continues to boil, before his panel retreats and and you watch as his spike emerges out of its housing.

Your digits lightly ghost across the twitching length, before gently wrapping your servo around the base and giving him a slow pump, feeling some of the soft bumpy ridges as his spike throbs eagerly under your touch. This feels good, and you're making him feel good.

Bumblebee is unable to suppress his sounds as he feels himself heat up even more throughout his entire frame, his waist bucking slightly under your touches before realising he should be touching you.

Shifting closer, you shyly retract your panel and your untouched valve is exposed for him to explore. Moving his own servo between your legs, your optics flutter as you feel his digit skip against your valve, feeling the odd bundle of nerves and warmth settling within you and growing more velvet-like, smooth and tender.

Moving your legs more apart you give him better access, keeping your servo wrapped around his pulsing spike while still gentilly pumping him, letting out soft vents as you feel his digits play between your valve lips. It's all an exploring adventure between you two, and you still have time before the fireworks and new year start.

Bumblebee skips a digit across your node that causes your body to jolt from the contact, followed by a whimpered mewl, and this makes him stop.

"Did I hurt you?" He's worried he's done something wrong.

"N-no, no, you didn't. Just felt...surprised, but in a good way." That's the best way you can answer it. "How about me? Is this alright?"

"Yeah, I like it." He says through an aroused gentle smile. "I'll keep going?"

Nodding is your answer and he resumes his actions. The two of you touch one another, bringing your arousal levels up quickly much to your surprise, covering your mouth a little to muffle your increasingly desired whimpers as your optics flutter close due to the boiling heat rushing through you.

At some point, and somehow, you end up straddling his lap, sharing a heated kiss with him as you grind yourself along his length, you're soaking valve lubricating his spike like overcharged beasts craving a good rutt. But this isn't that, this is your first time, and you're both ready. The ridges stimulate against your node, adding to the growing arousal and building more fluids through your channel.

Your growing moans are faint against his inner neck, glossa darting out to lick along his neck cables, causing his frame to quiver along with his own increasing moans, his spike begging to be buried in your valve. Meeting his baby blue optics, you caress his warm cheek, as he does the same to you, sharing dainty smiles, young love blooming even more, before you grab hold of him and position yourself against his leaking tip, slowly sinking as you let out a shaky exhale.

Grabbing hold onto his shoulders you control yourself as his spike stretches your channel, letting out a soft hiss feeling the burning sensation snap through your valve, tearing your seal and your lover claiming your innocence. The pain does linger, but not for too long, and it's not long before you're fully seated in his lap with his pulsing spike stretching through you.

Bumblebee lets out a stuttered hiss between clenched dentas with his servos gripping at your waist, holding you still while his face tightens as if he was both in pain and feeling overpowering pleasure. Only a few drops of tears stream down your cheek plating, and than they cease. It's not until you move slightly that Bumblebee jolts and lets out a startled groan before there's another warmth filling you.

"W-what was that?" You can't help but ask, the small burning pain still surrounding your valve, his spike twitching along with the warm fluids that suddenly soaks your inner channel.

"I...I think I overloaded?" Bumblebee doesn't even sound sure. "Sorry, I'm sorry. I didn't mean for it to happen so fast, it just caught me off guard, and feels so good."

"Its alright. I mean, I'm more lubricated now, right? Can I move a little?" He nods and you slowly rock your hips. You're still unsure how to move, just that you try to stimulate yourself on him.

Even though he's already overloaded he feels the pleasure still against your rocking hips, moaning into your neck as he rests his servos against your hips, gently holding you against him while you slowly roll into his lap. The burning sensation slowly vanishes and the pleasure soon grows more fierce within you, grinding your node between your bodies in perfect sync as you keep his spike buried in your valve. It's all happening, and you want to finish it perfectly.

Your thoughts grow foggy as you continue to ride him while he bucks up slightly against your movements his spike twitching wilding even more much to your surprise, and hearing his startled venting hitching, you can only guess he's surprised himself that he's growing hard again, a second overload slowly building in him than.

No words are needed between you two and let the moment happen. His servos roam across your hips and waist, holding you close still as you start to bounce on his spike more, letting out moans and hitched vents while he thrusts up into your lightly, sounds increasing more vibrant from you, loving every second of it, silently questioning yourself why you never did this sooner.

"Bee, Bee..." His name moans from your lips, licking them eagerly as you feel yourself grow more hot and your thighs start shaking, servos resting closely against the back of his neck.

"Primus...oh Primus!" He stuttered loudly, arms clinging onto your quivering frame and jerks again deep in you.

In the exact moment, right at midnight, your overload erupts through your systems, your fluids flooding through, as you let out a high pitched moan mixing in with the fireworks setting off in the distance. You hold yourself against his chassis and nuzzle into his inner neck, purring gently between vented breaths, savouring the warm buzz still swimming.

"Oh Bee, that was wonderful." You say to him fondly. "Twice?"

"Yeah, twice." He chuckles lightly, sounding not fully convinced he was able to overload twice so fast. "Didn't think that was possible, yet it happened. Primus, I'll love you forever."

"As I will too." You share a tender kiss with him, caressing his warm cheek platings under your servos. "Happy new year, Bee."

"Happy new year, my love."

#transformers #g1 #bumblebee #valveplug #bumblebee x reader #reader insert #autobots #tf #smut #fanfiction #writing #fandom #sugarrusheag

[captainpains]

Forget Me Not (Crosshair x Reader)

I've never written for Crosshair, when I got this square on the @clonexreaderbingo card, it took the opoortunity to try something new. I hope you enjoy ❤️

Prompt: Crosshair

Warnings: gn reader, Medical emergencies, Angst, hurt-comfort (i think), bittersweet ending, bad writting (I can't write sadness).

~~~~~~

It felt like it was yesterday when you met him.

You were working on Kamino, a medical doctor hired to help the incredibly injured.

A tall and sarcastic man with a toothpick hanging from his mouth. He was not happy about being sent to the medbay. He was grumpy. But he had a sort of smirk on his face while you were treating him. You brushed him off; the soldiers tended to flirt a lot.

It was a couple of days later when he showed up again. This time carrying another man of roughly the same size, a gaping wound in the man’s side.

After rushing and helping the injured man, the man with a toothpick introduced himself as Crosshair. 

Since then, whenever his squad was planetside, he would visit you.

The two of you never talked much, but he had a relaxing presence about him. When you did talk, it was about your interests or jobs. You learned about his brothers and his favorite flavor of ration bar. From the outside, it was a strange friendship. But to the two of you, it was precious moments, moments untouched by the chaos of the war.

Neither of you noticed when your meetings became more frequent. When you started to spend your meals together. You would eat in silence. But it was quality time together.

Soon you were cracking jokes and exchanging stories.

It was a progression that no one would have seen coming. The stand offish sniper making friends with a shy medic. 

Who would've guessed. 

You started to feel overly giddy when you saw him. Your chest would flutter when he looked at you, and you felt hot when he would give you one of his smirky smiles. You had feelings for him.

Crosshair started to have feelings for you too. He smiled when you laughed. He got embarrassed when you caught him staring. He got more grumpy when his brother teased him about it, but all was better when he saw you across the dining hall. 

“I brought you something…”

“Really?” You looked up at him shocked. 

Crosshair nodded. You noticed his hands were hidden behind his back. Then he revealed what it was.

A small wood carving. It was cut in the shape of his sniper rifle.

You gasped at the gift. You took it into your hand, holding it as if it was a precious jem. It was so kind of him to make you something.

“To remember me.” He said. You smiled at him.

No one would have expected Crosshair to be so sweet to you either. Holding you like you were the most precious thing. He kissed you so gently. It was just perfect, in its own way.

But, all good things must come to an end.

When the war ended, Crosshair came back to Kamino… different. Not a good difference. 

You were hurt when he acted as if you didn't exist. It was like he wasn't himself. 

It hurt you. For him to cast you aside. It felt like you meant nothing to him. 

“What is wrong?” You asked. “Why are you saying this?”

“You are a distraction. You are hindering my ability to do my duty.” Crosshair firmly replied.

“So was all that nothing to you. Do I mean nothing to you now?”

“Nothing is more important than my duty to the Empire.”

You turned away from him, tears in your eyes and hurt in your heart. It was a harsh way to end things. Fitting for someone heartless, not fitting for your sniper, On the outside he was harsh, isolated from others caused him to lack social graces, but he wasn’t a bad person. He wasn’t the type of person to end things like this.

Shortly after you left Kamino. Heartbroken from Crosshair's words.

It still hurts years later. 

But no matter how bad it hurt, you couldn’t bring yourself to get rid of the carving you gave him. It was too hard. It reminded you of all the good times you had. And it was a reminder of the Crosshair that you loved.

It would be years later when you saw him again.

Crosshair was brought to you by his squad, injured and fading. In his barely conscious state, he saw you and smiled. The same smile you fell in love with years ago.

It was a stressful few days as you fought to keep him stable.

After three stressful days, he was finally getting better. When he awoke, his squad was relieved. Hunter particularly was so happy that his brother’s health was improving. Wrecker almost crushed him in a hug, tears streaming down his face in relief. Tech and Echo showed their love in their own way. And Omega, the news edition to the squad, was overjoyed and hugged her brother. Crosshair tenderly hugged her back.

It was after his siblings left for the night that he finally spoke to you.

“I’m sorry…” He said, voice horse. “I’m sorry for how things ended.”

You looked over at him. He was staring directly at you, guilt overcoming his features. He had hated himself for so long. Once he started to change, he started to regret the words he had said to you. If he could go back, he would’ve said anything else.

“I’m sorry for everything…”

You gave a small sigh. It was nice to hear the apology, even years later. But it could not mend the past. It wouldn’t fix everything. But it gave you hope.

Hope that you could build something new.

You silently moved to stand next to him, taking his hand in yours. You gave a tiny smile. He gave a sad smile back, it wasn’t like the way he used to smile. You gently pressed the wood carving into his hand. He took it then brought it to his other hand, thumb rubbing it carefully.

“I accept your apology.” You replied. “I hope we can start over.”

“I’d like that…”

#tbb crosshair #tbb crosshair x reader #crosshair #crosshair x reader #the bad batch #star wars

[the-fandom-therapist]

(@ultimateplaylistmaker you are to blame for this.

I planned to do the OTHERS parts of the alicorn!Kokichi AU, not this!

Ofjzofakslczkgitkabdvpub

Anyway, here's alicorn Kokichi in the infection AU, my version which is heavily inspired by the asks I send lmao)

Death is weird.

You don't feel anything. Actually, thank fuck because if he have to stay eternally in the state of agony he was in before dying, he would considering it hell.

Not like he wouldn't have deserve it. But still.

Anyhow, at some point when he was drifting in... limbo he guesses, he felt a pull towards... somewhere.

His soul was called somewhere and he doesn't even know where. Or why. Or even by who!

He felt himself falling, and blacked out at the moment of impact.

~0o0~

When he woke up, he immediatly noticed something was off.

First of all, the desolated wasteland (no, not this one! Fuck off Monokuma!) was a pretty good indicator that something is very wrong.

Second of all, when he bolted to get at the closest thing that could be used as a shelter, he found out that he was unable to get on his two feet. He could only walk on all four-

Wait.

Wait, wait wait, hold up a SECOND.

He lift his hand.

This is not a hand.

THAT'S A HOOF.

He's a fucking horse now? What the fuck?

...Hell is fucking weird.

Like, he would get getting thrown into a wasteland as a punishement. Makes sense. But as a horse? Okay DICE associate him 24/7 with the animal because of his name, but that's still strange.

Oh wait. He's not just a horse, he's a freaking unicorn apparently, because when he tried to put a han-hoof on his head, he got resistance.

Yep. A horn. So unicorn he is apparently. Great.

He's not in a regular wasteland, he's in a magical wasteland. He's going to see fucking pegasus next?

Nevermind, he's just going to see HIMSELF fully next! He was lucky(?) to stumble upon a shattered mirror.

Apparently he got the full treatement of magical horse. Because he's both a unicorn and a pegasus now.

Also his... well, fur? Is entierely white. His mane is the same color as his hairs, which make sense he suppose. Also thank fuck he kept his scarf. Otherwise he'd throw a fit. (Would that change anything? No. Does he care? Also no.)

He got more or less the same haircut too. His eyes are the same colors as well, so there that.

...Why the fuck does he got a tattoo on his thigh though.

A tattoo of... A purple snake -cobra apparently- with dripping fangs and a dice in its mouth. With a crown. And warped around a weird staff.

Actually it looks pretty cool, but he never wanted that thanks.

...So what does he do now?

First of all, he need to find something to eat. And water too. Because considering the state of the buildings around, he's going to bet that water isn't running anymore.

Next, a place to sleep that isn't in plain sight. If he could get a shelter from the elements, it'd be great!

Then maybe he could-

His thoughts stopped when he heard a groan.

Oops, seems like he's not alone here!

Now, the one-million question. Is it a friend or foe? In a situation like this, it's best to assume they're a fo-

WHAT THE FUCK

He doesn't know how, he doesn't know why, but when the other guy -horse really- charged at him, with obvious hostile intentions, he got blasted away by...

Purple energy?

Oh wait, he is technically a unicorn... He can do magic? Sick! Though he'll probably need to learn more about how to use it. But, more importantly...

That looks to be a very damn sick horse!

Whatthefuckwhatthefuckwhatthefuck WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?!

...Oh wait.

Sick looking, stumbling around, trying to attack...

Ah shit, he got himself into a damn zombie apocalypse didn't he?

...That is NOT his day.

~0o0~

Alright. After a week or so, Kokichi successfully got a few infos.

First of all: this world is different from his. Everyone here is a horse. Or rather, pony since they call themselves that.

Everyone either have wings, or a horn, or neither. But he have yet to see one who have both, just like him.

Weird. But he suppose it's a question of chance and genes. Rare ones could create both maybe?

Anyway.

He learned that this outbreak had been going on for a little less than a month. Nobody knows where their rulers (princesses apparently) went, or if they were infected or not.

He learned how to use magic, albeit only for rough spells. Just burst of energy to send the infected away from him long enough to run away, or cut things -more like explode them...- to barricade a place.

He's been trying to learn how to fly too; apparently those infected, even if they were pegasi, didn't had the cognitive connections to know how to fly now. And even if they did, they were rare and slow. So it's a great way to get away!

The only downside is to do it in a desert area, because he have a tendency to still fall rather often. And he's veeeeery far from the steady flights he saw other survivors do.

He tried to approach a group of survivors once but... Seeing them shooting another pony not infected on sight with magic cut rather efficently that idea. He's going solo here. (Even though he would benefit GREATLY from having a source of informations about this world!)

And, well he's doing pretty good for himself all things considered. Living in the streets before is great experience for the apocalypse, what do you know! Even when you're a pony.

He stayed on his own for a good week after that. Until...

~0o0~

He was walking on the border of a road going to... somewhere, when he saw it.

A pony. Lying on the ground, whimpering.

He still had a lot of colors, but there was a clear bite mark on his leg. Kokichi grimaced.

That pony was probably travelling with a group, got bitten and left to die. Man, even in Ponyland people can be assholes.

He approach the guy cautiously. The bite looked fresh, and infected only start to lose their minds at the second stage, after a week or two if the notes he found in an abandoned hospital were to be believed, but he wasn't going to risk it.

Upon hearing hooves on the pavement, the pony looked in his direction pleadingly.

"H-Help... Please..."

Now Kokichi is a leader of evil, but he's not a heartless bastard. Besides, he does need info about this world...

"Well I'm not against it friend! But I don't know how. Can that nasty thing be stopped?"

A weak nod.

"A-Amputation."

Ah. Aoutch. Okay.

He grimaced.

"Alright then. No promise though! I'm pretty new to the "magic" stuff."

That's going to be gorey. Just great... But it's not like they have another choice.

Alright then. Let's try to pour magic over an imaginary garrot and try to squeeze and-

And the wound actually closed. The bite wasn't here anymore, and the unicorn already looked better, colors because as vibrant as they were before getting bitten.

...

Okay so that's a thing apparently? He can heal?

...Cool. He never tried to heal the infected before and now he feel kinda bad. But hey, he wasn't going to risk getting bitten himself trying to help them!

The unicorn immediatly got up and looked at itself with a shocked expression.

Then he looked at Kokichi and...

And kneeled? What the-

"I didn't realized! Oh my Lord please forgive me! Of course it make sense that a powerful alicorn such as yourself would be able to cure this horror!"

...What.

"Uh... Excuse me?"

"I owe you! I owe you my life! Order and I obey my prince!"

Hold up! Pause! What is happening?! Why is this unicorn worshipping him all of a sudden? Okay, he cured him, and it's not something ponies can do yet, but why is he treating like royalty?

...Oh no.

He said "alicorn", which is probably how they call ponies who have both wings and horn. And he heard ponies talking about their princesses before...

Ah fuck, having both is a status here, isn't it. Goddamnit.

"H-Hey now. Get up! I'm not the prince of anyone. I just arrived in this world and I have no idea what's going on!"

That didn't helped. If anything, it made things worse.

"You're a godsent then! No, no surely you must be a god to be able to travel worlds as easily as that!"

Things are getting out of hand really quickly right now.

"Okay, no, I'm not a prince, or a god, I'm just some guy! I just learned I can heal that infection thing, you're literally the only pers-pony that I help since I got here!"

"Am I? Oh my Lord, it's an honor! Please, let me travel with you! I swear on my life I will be loyal until death claim me for good!"

...That guy isn't listening to him is he?

"I'm telling you, I'm not a-!"

They both stopped. Infected coming from the town Kokichi just left were starting to head towards them.

"We gotta go." he hissed, starting to scan the surroundings for a safe way.

"But of course my Lord! Allow me!"

Before Kokichi could even sputter a word about the "I am not a god stop that" they got warped by indigo looking magic, and suddenly they were in a complete new place.

"...Where are we?"

"This is the farthest point I know my Lord. the unicorn said apologically. My magic isn't strong enough to go further."

"Stop calling me that."

He looked around. That was probably supposed to be a makeshift shed, made in urgency when the outbreak happened. Thankfully it was empty now.

"O...kay. Moving on. Err, what's your name?"

"I am Frost Blade my Lord! I was a mere ice sculptor before the outbreak and your arrival!"

"Stop calling me that."

That name sounded cheesy as fuck. But he gotta "blend in" and hopefully get this pony's ideas about a god out of his head. A name out of this world -literally- would only fuel his delirium.

Now to find a name... Oh wait.

That pony also had a thigh tattoo. Being of an ice pick and a chisel...

He's going to bet that everyone's name here is going to be related to that tattoo.

Now...

Oh well. You know what?

He just got out of a killing game by dying, only to wake up in a zombie apocalypse except that everyone's a pony. And there's magic.

Unlucky but in an unbelievable way...

"Call me Snake Eyes."

"Of course my Lord!"

...It's going to be long.

~0o0~

At least he gain something from this whole mess.

Yes, reminding the other unicorn that he's NOT a god on a daily basis is annoying, but at least he got magic lessons out of this.

Frost Blade have been more than happy to help out.

So now Kokichi can teleport. Go him! And pick things up with magic.

Also, he's able to cut things more precisely. Having an ice sculptor is actually useful in a case like this.

They travel to what might have been night in a normal world. Apparently, the princesses he heard about earlier were responsible for rising the sun and the moon. All they know is that one day, the sun rose never to go down again.

Nobody knows what happened to the two princesses.

"But of course, the two sisters are nothing compared to you my Lord! You're the only one that can fight off this horror, while they surely have succumb to it!"

Kokichi REALLY hope that he'll never run into them. With that idiot loudly claiming what can only be insult to royalty, they'd end up in prison for sure.

He hadn't tried to heal more infected. The ones they encountered were all too far gone for his beginner level healing.

Until he ran into a group, that apparently just got out of a confrontation with a hoard of infected.

Of the five ponies here -two earth ponies, two unicorns and one pegasus- three had clear bite marks. Fresh too.

Obviously Frost Blade was about to go rambling to them about his healing ability, but he stopped him. He had better plan

"Hey there!" he said with a smile.

Everyone looked at him with a mix of confusion, shock and distrust. Which, yeah fair.

"You seemed to be a in a bit of a situation. What about a deal! Your pegasus friend teaches me how to fly and I heal your nasty bite marks. Sounds good?"

Obviously they were wary. Who wouldn't? But Frost Blade was back in action, singing his praises with such conviction that they gave in. After all, what did they had to lose?

Kokichi grinned. Now he could get to fly at least. Not that there was a particular urge, they weren't getting spotted often and could use magic to defend themselves... But fuck it, he got wings so why not! Flying sounded cool.

But he kept his end of the bargain of course. Couldn't get a lesson if the guy was infected!

So he poured magic in the bite wounds and prayed it'll work. And... surprisingly, it did!

It left him really tired, but it worked! And everyone was looking at him flabbergasted. Asides from Blade Frost of course. Who looked really smug actually!

"See? What did I told you ponies? He's a god of health!"

"Will you stop that! I'm not a god!"

"But you're an alicorn." pointed out one of the earth ponies.

"Yeah so? I'm not from this world! I can't even fly yet."

"That's because you're new. I'll teach you, as a payement. It won't be hard..."

"Yeah, and we're following you my Lord!" added one of the unicorn.

Goddamnit, them too? This is going to become a cult at this point and he does NOT like it.

"Stop calling me that I have a name! And it's Snake Eyes thank you. I'm not a god!"

"Hard to believe that when you healed the infection that took our princesses away!"

~0o0~

...They're starting to find arguments, it's becoming a bit scary.

They found more infected after that. And things were always the same.

He healed them if they were early stages, or made everyone run away if they were late stages. The one he healed kneel before him and swore undying loyalty -WILL THEY STOP THAT- and join him while treating him like a deity.

After a month or so of travelling and gathering ponies, he ended up with at least fifty damn horses treating him like a god!

And it's really fucking creepy. He had to stop them giving him daily sacrifices too, they were going way too far!

The problem he had was simple: he need them to stop treating him like a damn god, but also he needed to be able to lead them. Because if he lose authority, he'd have fifty very angry ponies against him, and even with a pretty good hold on magic, he have zero chance.

However, things changed when two ponies arrived, seeking his help.

Word had travelled fast about his ability to heal the infection, and he unfortunately had to turn away those with a too advanced state because he couldn't heal that yet.

Oh he'd give it a shot of course! But if he failed, he'll just say he can't heal it and the infected have to be put down. (You'd think that witnessing their so-called "god" failing at something would wake them up, but NO SIR! They'd twist the story saying that his magic can tell who had been a good pony or not, and if it didn't worked you weren't virtuous enough. Wow. Just, wow.)

(He'd apologize personally for their behavior in secret way too many times to count.)

But here it wasn't the same thing.

"You can heal the infection right? she'd say. So heal my sister!"

Kokichi ignored the crack of her voice, and rather stared at the filly hiding behind her sister's hooves.

That's. a. child. A filly. Whatever. IT'S A KID!

He can't turned down a child! No matter if her state was way more advanced than what he heal usually.

He have to. He can't fail a little girl.

"I'll do it." he said softly, gesturing to the girl to step forwards.

"Sweetie Belle. her sister said. Come on now. He can heal you. It's going to be okay. You're going to feel better."

The filly took some hesitant steps forwards. There's definitely a hunger in her eyes and he doesn't like it.

She have the beginning of fangs coming out of her mouth, and her colors are already fading.

She's going to go through the second stage very soon if he doesn't do something quickly.

"Where did you got bit?" he asked, because it's way easier if he can directly pour magic inside the source of the infection.

She's shaking, but she lift her left hoof which have a bandage.

"Yikes! Must have hurt a lot. Bunch of meanies those infected I swear! he pouted. But it's gonna be okay! I'm gonna take care of that."

"Barbarians. added her sister, nodding. A true lack of etiquette!"

Hey, he sees that she's also trying to get the kid at ease. That's a good sister! He likes her already.

"Someone gotta teach them some manners!" he said, before putting his horn on the bandage, mumbling a soft apology at the wince.

Then he concentrate.

He can see the infection going through her veins, eating bit by bit the vital liquid. He can see it agglomerate around the stomache, which explain the hunger in her eyes...

Alright. Showtime now, he can't let a kid die.

He close his eyes and focus his magic on the immediate surroundings of the wound. It immediatly start to destroy the virus, bit by bit. He pours more. She need more magic.

The infection had started to spray already, so he needs to reach further.

More magic.

The infection disappear from her legs' blood vessels.

More magic.

It disappear from her stomache.

More.

No more in her throat.

More!

No more in the blood vessels anywhere else now.

He didn't noticed he started to shake. He's breathing a bit heavy too. Fuck, that's probably scaring the girl. He opened his eyes and grinned at her.

"Hey, ever tried to play tag with a sickness? It's hard! he pouted. Its cheating too. But I'm gonna win, don't worry!"

Now though, he only need to completely destroy the last remnants of it that had reached her brain. Not enough for her to lose herself completely, thank fuck.

He's tired. That was way more magic than he ever used before. But he need to use more.

The filly won't survive otherwise, and he's not going to let that happen. Her sister doesn't deserve that either.

So he pours more. More, and more, and more magic until he can't feel any traces of the damn infection in her system.

He check several times that she's really, truly double-sure healed, and he opened his eyes again, and look at the two sisters.

"Ko-Snake Eyes: one, dumb disease: zero!"

Then he promptly collapse under everyone's shocked and worried expression -for the sisters at least-

And he's grateful for that. He missed his errr... followers, errupting in cheers and stoomping their hooves on the ground like kids, and the bullshit chants about hil getting more and more powers.

God that's embarassing.

~0o0~

He woke up on the makeshift bed his "followers" made him. Their base is temporary, always had been, but now that they're numerous they can afford to stay a month or two more than before since someone's always on patrol.

But right now, that's not what's on his mind.

Right now he need to make sure the little girl's okay. He checked, but he was exhausted and he could have missed a spot! He can't afford that.

So he take the time to get his bearings back again, and go where the newcomers are usually put until they can find more rooms to put them. And as expected, the two sisters were there.

"Mister!"

She looks way better. No hunger in her eyes, it's good. The bite mark also disappeared.

"Howdy! he answered back. How are you doing?"

"We should be the one asking you that! You collapsed!"

"Pshhhh I wanted to say hi to the floor, nothing serious!"

He used his magic just so he can make sure there's no traces of infection... And yeah. It's all gone. Thank fuck.

"Just wanted to check, noooooooo virus left, thanks for choosing our services!" he said, making a small bow.

"Thank you. the big sister said. We owe you. she frown. But we won't treat you like a deity!"

...Holy shit.

"Halleluja somepony with common sense! he said, grinning wildy. Can you be one of my advisor, to keep the other idiots in line?"

She blinked, apparently not expecting that.

"Um... I suppose? My name is Rarity, and this is Sweetie Belle." she said, putting a hoof on her sister's head.

"Snake Eyes, but you already knew that. he smiled. I'm so glad to finally find someone with a logical brain! Maybe you'll be able to convince those guys that I'm NOT a god thank you."

She really looked confused and he couldn't really blame her. Generally, the leader of a cult is someone who's consenting to be, you know, the object of a cult.

"I can try. But if you couldn't..."

"Still worth a shot! Anyway..."

He explained to them that they're searching for a safe place to settle for good. And once it's done... Well, it's done. But thankfully Rarity had another idea.

"Once we settle, it would be a good idea to look for the others... she mumbled, before adding. My friends. The bearer of the Elements of Harmony."

"...The what now."

She looked at him with a confused gaze.

"You don't know what it is?"

"Listen, I got thrust into this world only after the infection started, I have no idea what you're talking about."

She looked a bit uncredulous, but she still explained.

And wow.

"...Aaaaand what are magical artefacts supposed to do in a zombie apocalypse?"

"Ideally, find the root of the problem, and getting rid of it. she sighed. Create a massive cure too..."

"Sounds a bit utopic to me but alright! he shrugged. Not that we have many things to do outside of finding a permanent safe zone... But you said we have to find your friends first right?"

"Yes... And it's going to be a bit tedious. I don't even know where they ended up, or if they aren't infected themselves..."

"Hm. Well it's still better to stay in a bunker without a purpose! So I'm all for that plan. Also I guess I need to become better at curing that damn infection too..."

They left it at that.

Rarity was a very skilled seamstress, so she made clothes like armors to protect the ponies on patrol from bites.

She even redesign the usual cloak and mask (his scarf) he wore when they were on the move. Now he straight up looks like a plague doctor. Except that instead of a bird mask, it's a snake one. And the cloak looks more like his old, DICE's one. Dark purple, just like it. And- fuck it. He also asked her to sew DICE's logo on his cloak. Because despite this whole "apocalypse" mess, he still miss them damn it.

And one day, when they were staying at an abandoned factory, one of the pony on patrol came back and yelled.

"WE FOUND PRINCESS TWILIGHT SPARKLE!"

Well, that promises to be interesting.

#danganronpa killing harmony #drv3 #danganronpa v3 killing harmony #kokichi ouma #ndrv3 #alicorn kichi au #mlp au #mlp infection au

[obae-me]

Tainted Reflections- CH 12

Start This Story From The Beginning 

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Like Sands In An Hourglass

MAJOR Warning: This chapter contains Blood, Violence, Gore, Body Horror, Disturbing Imagery. 

As Always, Read Safely. 

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Fake lips were inches from your face, the two empty voids peering at you, the creature’s neck stretching around a tree just to observe you. You remained frozen, mouth open, stuck in place with fear. Would you even have had time to stand up before it cut you down? Was this how it all ended? All hope…devoured with you. The feathers across the creature’s body fluttered and twitched as the light from the mask was trained onto you. “Ahhhh…” It seemed to sing, to chitter, the magic hitting the back of your head and twisting the note into a hum with the sound of Simeon’s voice. Then something happened. One of the runes engraved into the mask flashed a blue, changing the light shining down on you with it. It was a soft sapphire tone. The mask twisted, neck rotating, turning far too much to be normal, the head completely upside down. Was it…confused? 

A wild blur of black and white rushed by you, the next second followed by an unholy scream. Well, perhaps that wasn’t quite accurate. This, by all accounts, was a rather literal holy scream. The creature’s neck snapped back into position, flailing, the sound it was making was as if a thousand different birds all cried out at the same time. Belphie jumped back, letting go of the sharpened branch he had just impaled into the creature’s neck. But if either of you assumed doing such a feat would be enough to kill it, you would both be wrong. It’s a good thing neither of you considered it would be so easily defeated. Belphie ran over to you just in time to miss the creature swing one of its blade-legs, picking you up and beginning your running once more. Only, neither of you got very far before he suddenly let go of you, pushing you away from him as he started sprinting in the opposite direction. 

You knew he had noticed the strange behavior. Besides, he knew more about this thing than you did. He was going to…no…“Belphie!” 

“Meet me at the house!” He shouted back, the creature’s spotlight narrowing as it moved from hunting down the both of you to only him. It almost trampled you in the process, swiveling towards him. “I’ll draw it away! Just run! Promise me you’ll run!” He looked back over his shoulder, his usual tired or neutral face twisted into one you’d wished you’d never seen before. Desperation. You took a few steps back, heading back towards the way you came. Belphie smiled before turning his head away from you, sprinting faster off through the trees, the sin eater barreling through after him. 

And before you knew it, you were alone again. 

Anxiety, bewilderment, fear, exhaustion, everything raced through your mind all at once, doing so at the same speed your feet were moving at. Following the mess you’d all made through the snow, you made your way back to where you’d first seen the demon be killed. That was when you finally stopped, stomach churning at the sight. Would Belphie…survive? That was a question you thought you’d never have to ask. The demon brothers, the people you knew were all so strong, even magical mishaps were more of an inconvenience than anything. No one and nothing ever posed much of a threat to them aside from amongst themselves. Belphie had looked so frightened…and his face when he’d told you to run…like he was content. 

All the sudden, searing pain ran through you, flaring at Belphie’s pact mark. You fell to your knees, gasping for breath, almost vomiting. No. No, no, no, no. NO. That didn’t mean…that wasn’t…you fumbled with your words, with your breath, remaining calm enough to speak. “H-ear me, de-denizens of-of darkness, you who are– who are born of shadow and you who give b-birth to it. Hear me and do as I command! I, MC, call upon you to send forth one of your n-number! I summon the Avatar of Sloth, Belphegor!” You balled your hands up in the snow, raising your head to the sky. 

Nothing. 

“Belphegor!” You screamed so loud your words cracked…and then broke, choking as your throat finally gave, your voice finally went away. You got back up to your feet, crying quietly, trying to shuffle back towards the house Belphie had told you to head back to. He wasn’t going to meet you back here, was he? Your eyes wandered over something in the blood-covered snow. The other demon’s head was still there, untouched, stuck here to be frozen like everything else. Your hand went up to cover your mouth as images of the same thing happening to the youngest of the demon brothers flared in your mind. Your mouth moved to whisper his name, but hardly any sound came out. You closed your eyes to try to shield yourself from the image, from the thoughts. 

Then…you stopped, mind flicking off like one would flip a light-switch. Your eyes opened, observing the grisly scene with suddenly little more than mild disgust. You touched your body over where the pain you had felt from Belphie was. He wasn’t dead. You could still feel some of his essence swirling through your soul. With hardly a breath, you took that same hand in front of you, staring down at your gloved palm. Your normal body. Your human body. 

“You’re plotting something idiotic again, aren’t you?” Lucifer had come up behind you, using a book he had kept in his hand to gently smack the back of your head as you had sat alone in the living room, papers and items for your project littered around you. Another memory, another reminder of better times. 

Snow crunched under your feet. 

“It’s called helping, not plotting.” You had rubbed the back of your head even though the gesture Lucifer showed did little more than disturb your hair. You watched him come around to the other side of you, crouching down to observe your work. 

“These are for my brothers, yes?” He sighed, standing up straight as a hand went to his forehead. “You care for them too much. They don’t need to drag you into anything they get into.” 

The branch of a broken tree crunched under your feet. 

In the memory, you had looked around you and shrugged. Sure they were tiring at times, but when you helped them out, they always seemed so happy. That in turn made you happy. And besides, any day you got to help keep the peace and lessen the chances of one of them to lose control, the better. Usually if one of them had a tantrum…things were completely destroyed. You’d like for that not to happen. “Of course I care for them. You’d all do the same thing for me if I asked, right?” 

You pulled out the item held by the loop of your jeans. 

With the previous question, the eldest at the time couldn’t help but smile, only a little annoyed that you were right and he could not argue against it. “I suppose you are right. As annoying as it is, we take turns watching after one another. I can only hope you aren’t running yourself too thin. However…I am glad I know you are watching over them. It keeps me at peace.” 

You ran towards the sound of more noise. 

In the memory, you had beamed, watching as Lucifer sat beside you, a soft warmth to his eyes, perhaps a little embarrassed he expressed such a statement to you so honestly. “Thank you…for keeping my family safe.” 

Thudding footsteps and screeching could be heard not far from you now as you sprinted, an insane speed pushing your body through the snow, bolting in the direction Belphie had headed off to. I am plotting something idiotic this time, Lucifer, you thought, wishing he could hear you say it, knowing how he would scold you, how all the others would scold you, but you didn’t care. Yeah, humans are stupid, extremely stupid. Too many stories aired on the news of how just one dumb action could lead to tragedy. But this was already tragic, wasn’t it? You didn’t want to be saved. Not this way. The only thing that scared you more than this ridiculous creature now was the thought of returning home alone…having to answer the question of where Belphie went. Having to tell Beel what happened to his twin…No. That wouldn’t happen. 

A new trail of blood caught your eye, one that seemed fresh. With a pang, you could tell you were heading in the proper direction. Even without demon speed, it seemed you were catching up quickly. Perhaps Belphie had stopped running, trying to lose it or confuse it in the trees instead. 

You had zero plan, you had to admit, acting purely on burning instinct. You didn’t even care if it got you killed. You were getting out of here with Belphie or not at all, you already decided that. Yeah, maybe being cooped up here for so long had made you crazy, or maybe you were already a little crazy to begin with. How could you live with demons for so long after all? 

The sin eater could be spotted ahead of you, turning around in circles, slashing at tree trunks, neck twisted up in the branches. A shadow was darting up above it, almost making your eyes sting with tears. Belphie was okay. As you got closer, he seemed to sense you, a strange wail coming from him, one of disbelief. He didn’t have time to reach for you or scream your name as a warning. 

Like you said, you had no plan. Well, you had one. More like half of one, depending on luck, the gods, Diavolo’s strong belief in faith, in Lilith’s blood. You scooped up a ball of snow and chucked it at the creature. Snow pelted its body, feathers fluffing, shaking it off as it lowered its arms from trying to reach Belphie. The neck untangled itself from the trees, the mask snapping towards you. The light hovered over you, shining up and down, observing you from top to bottom. You could hear the gnashing of its many teeth from below its body. Like before, it came over to look at you, if you could call whatever it was doing ‘looking’ anyway. There was a moment of quiet like before, where it refused to make a move before it could tell if you were what it was looking for. It came closer this time, mask only a few hairs away from yours, it’s fake nose almost brushing against yours. 

Despite the fearful and over-exerted sweat dripping down your face, you managed to follow through, releasing all that pent up anger, the pent up desperation, the human stubbornness and determination to prove yourself no matter the cost. You would fight. You would bare your teeth. Even if it was futile. Even if you were weak. Your hands grasped at the feathers by the mask, pulling it’s head down, jamming the dagger in your hands right behind the headdress, digging it in and pulling it out, over and over and over again, golden blood coating your hands, spraying across your face. Each sickly stab had it squeal, and all the sudden, it pulled its neck back. Hands in a death-grip, you held on, body dangling in the air as it raised. With a clenched jaw and wild eyes, you shoved the dagger back into its body, pulling it along the mask’s edge, trying to cut it off. One of its arms raised, ready to split you in two, but the shadow in the trees kept that from happening. 

Belphie jumped, talons out, digging into the part of the arm that was flesh and not metal. He tore through the skin, keeping the arms from targeting you. The sin eater staggered, the melodic and comforting sounds it usually shared twisting, turning into a much more animalistic howl. It began to stand on its hind legs, pulling you and Belphie up into the air further. It bent itself slightly backwards, its mouth open, trying to pull Belphie inside even at the risk of chewing off its own leg. The demon of Sloth jumped, grasping and straddling its neck, pulling you up with him. The creature then tried to shake you both off, the long tendril you were on thrashing, thudding harshly against the trees. You nearly let go, not strong enough to hold on. A body held you close, Belphie keeping one arm around you, the other gripped tightly against the feathers. “Keep going! I’ve got you!” 

Somehow, while your head was spinning from being thrown around, you plunged the blade back into the sin eater, cutting around the mask, even maniacally digging your hand into its wounds, doing anything it took to peel its face off. Belphie wrapped his tail around you instead, using the now-free hand to help you. In a final act of desperation, the creature raised both the blades on its arms, swinging them towards you both, even if it meant hitting its own body. The next few seconds happened so fast, you hardly remember them. You remember holding onto the mask, fingers sliding through the empty eye-holes. You remember Belphie suddenly swinging down tearing you away with him, and you remembered the ear-splitting caterwaul that filled your whole body with pain, threatening to split your head open. 

Your ears rang, warmth dripping down your face as your nose bled. You sat up in the snow, not remembering hitting the ground. The sin eater violently convulsed, knocking down trees as it spasmed, each feather on edge. With a queasy observation, you noticed the bloody mask in your lap. 

The sin eater wailed, frustrated, angry, swinging its neck around and stomping its feet, moving its arms around wildly. But it no longer moved towards you both. It didn’t seem to know where you were. You were right. The mask was how it saw, even with no eyes. Now it was blind. Wounded, confused, it stumbled away from you both. 

It wasn’t until it was decently far away that you scrambled to your feet, breathing, almost crying in joy, in relief. We’re okay, you tried to say, but the only thing that came out was a wheezing gasp of noises. You turned your head to look with pride at the demon beside you. 

He was face down in the ground, a large gash along his back, not moving…Belphie?

“Mammon!” 

He heard his brother shout, but it seemed so far away, like a dream. Part of Mammon’s mind was screaming at him, trying to remind him that there was something important he should be doing. However, the rest of him felt weightless, some intruding voice encouraging him to close his eyes, to give in to the swirling yet peaceful unconsciousness. He almost submitted himself to it, MC’s face in his subconscious. He wanted to be with them. Yet, something yanked him out of it, both mentally and physically. 

“Get up!” There was a lurch, Mammon’s mind spinning as he suddenly stopped spiraling through the air uncontrollably. What he had assumed was up was actually down and yet now he was being flown in the opposite direction, and now he was all confused. It took him longer than he’d like to admit to recall where he was and what he was doing. He also came to the conclusion that his lungs weren’t breathing. With a gasp, he started coughing, each breath resulted in a stabbing pain in his ribs. Lucifer sighed, muttering something under his breath that resembled something like a prayer of gratitude. Had hell frozen over in the last few seconds? Still limply dangling from Lucifer's grasp, Mammon glanced down. The lift they had all been on was blown to bits, a few stray pebbles still sprinkling down past them, most of them engulfed in flames. Now they all stared downwards into a darkened pit. Howling laughter could still be heard at the bottom, louder now that there was no stone to muffle them. The demon of Pride pulled again at the collar of Mammon’s jacket. “Can you move?” 

“L…m…ehhh.” What Mammon had intended to be words only came out as a series of groans. Lucifer scowled at that, bringing them both onto more solid ground as he pulled them into an empty cell. Still fighting to blink the darkened spots from his eyes, Mammon sighed in a bit of relief as his body rested on the cold foundation of the cell-floor. With a few more wheezes, he was able to push himself up to his feet, trying to reach out for a wall to support himself against, but ending up falling into his brother instead. 

“Take it easy. Get your bearings.” Lucifer gripped him by the shoulders till Mammon could safely stand on his own two feet. “Are you alright?” 

Greed was conscious enough now to be able to scoff a bit. “Yeah, just peachy.” He hugged his torso with one arm, trying to ignore the discomfort in his sides. “That fuckin’ hurt.” Once Lucifer released his hold from him, he managed to take a few steps towards the open prison door. “Where’s Diavolo?” 

The first-born mimicked Mammon’s steps, leaning his head slightly out of the cell to glance up and down. Almost pitch-blackness seemed to devour both directions. “Further up. I dove down quite a ways to grab you.” 

Useless, like always. Something chittered in the back of Mammon’s mind, taunting him. He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to get rid of the strange feeling that had just run up his spine. “That’s why the crowd sounds so loud then, yeah?” What they had previously heard as little more than a whisper of a giggle before was now practically a roar. A sea of a multitude of voices cried out, some wailing in despair, others whooping in glee, some of them just screaming as loud as their twisted bodies would let them. What frightened Mammon the most was the fact that he could discern that some voices were definitely closer than others. 

“There’s hundreds of them,” Lucifer sighed as he narrowed his gaze. “And quite a few of them are approaching.” As his brother stated it, Mammon could just now see it himself. Figures down in the dark were writhing, clawing up the walls, crawling up each other even. It reminded Mammon of when you disturb an ant nest, too many critters gushing from the ground in a disturbing mass of wriggling limbs. Lucifer pushed out air through gritted teeth in sharp annoyance, magic snapping around him as he quickly thrust down a burst of magic. He struck quite a few of the prisoners, but those who fell were quickly replaced by others. “We’ll be overwhelmed if we stay here. Let us reconvene with Diavolo.” 

Mammon flexed his wings, pleased to find that they were still functional. He simply nodded at his brother’s plan. Flying upwards seemed like a much better solution than staying here. Lucifer encouraged the second-born to head out first, trailing behind, ready to cover Mammon should anything happen again. As they both headed up, Mammon couldn’t help but almost feel that feeling of dizziness he had felt before. Every set of cells they passed felt the same. There was no indication of progression. The darkness was unyielding. There were only two directions, and yet it almost seemed like they were flying in circles. 

Luckily, before he could panic, they both spotted a familiar shadow above them. Soon that shadow rushed down to greet them. “Thank the realms!” Diavolo reached out a hand to them both, giving them both a little tug so they were at his sides. “I nearly feared the worst.” 

“While I hate to spoil the reunion, I feel it’s too early to say such things. We are all still in danger.” Lucifer folded his arms. Mammon spotted a few of his brother’s feathers falling from Pride’s perfect wings as they fluttered. They must’ve come loose in the blast. His brother must be furious. 

Diavolo hummed so deep it was almost a growl, although Mammon had never heard the prince make such a noise before. “This has turned rather dire, hasn’t it? Between the three of us, I would normally recommend quelling this mob, but we have to remember that prisoners aren’t the only things kept here.” 

“There’s the matter of dangerous objects being used against us as well,” Lucifer confirmed. “That plus sheer numbers puts us in a less than favorable position.” Mammon’s hopes sank a bit at that. His brother was Pride! And the Prince of the Devildom was right here! If Lucifer felt the three of them would struggle…

So he made a suggestion, although he knew deep in his soul that the other two would perhaps rather die than agree to a retreat. “Do we make a break for it?” 

The prince and his right-hand-demon glanced at each other, trying to come up with a proper response. Diavolo was the one who eventually spoke. “While not ideal, we still hold the upper hand. Our main advantage is our ability of flight. If we remain in the air and stick close to caution, we will win this battle.” 

“Now that you mention it,” Mammon pondered, expressing his concern as the thought crossed his mind. “We haven’t had anyone come buzzin’ up here yet.” It was odd to him, to watch all those demons work on climbing rather than those who had ‘em just use their wings. He had expected a small swarm, and yet, the only ones with the wind shifting around them were the three of them. Mammon expected a number of different reactions, most of them some combination of annoyance or exasperation at his lack of knowledge, but he wasn’t expecting Diavolo to look so confused…and his brother to look so pale. 

“You didn’t know?” The prince wondered, curious at first, and then suddenly looking a bit guilty, as if he answered his own question. “Lucifer never told you.” 

The eldest brother tried to raise his chin to combat the slightly crest-fallen expression to his face. “It never felt like a detail he needed to know.” Mammon had never regretted asking a question more. “Those who become imprisoned here get their…” Lucifer hesitated, an unsettling pause drifting over them. Pride almost struggled with his words, a hint of pain behind his eyes. “...Wings clipped…Permanently.” 

As a demon, there were hardly any means of torture or punishment that fazed him too much. Sure, Mammon didn’t have a stomach for horror, and sure, he might have the occasional cry if Lucifer ended up stringing him up by his ankles, but he was still a demon. And yet, the phrase that had just left his brother’s mouth left Mammon feeling ill. Before he was a demon he had been an angel. To an angel, losing your wings was perhaps a fate worse than death. He remembers his younger brother's intense, never-ending cries at their transformation after the Fall. Levi and Belphegor…the only two that lost their ability to fly…forever. To lose that as well as their sister at the same time…it was a miracle the two of them ever recovered. Satan had never really had wings to call his own, and thus never could relate to such a deep loss. Mammon had to shake his head to free himself from the memory. “‘Kay, they’re all grounded, got it.” Which means a lot of them are probably extremely pissed off, he thought to himself. If someone had done that to him…well, revenge would probably be the only thing that mattered. “So, as long as we stay up high, we should be perfectly fine, right?” 

Lucifer opened his mouth, perhaps to correct him, but he didn’t have the time to. Any words were suddenly drowned out by an intense rumble, the stones, the very air quivering around them. For a third time, Mammon was plunged into this maddening sensation of disorientation. Only, this time, he could tell that something wasn’t right. This was more than just his rattled mind. A magical humming filled the air, the noise so fierce, even the prisoners below were muted completely. The metal of the cell doors rattled, almost vibrating themselves to pieces. Then the three of them were all falling, spinning, but slowly. No…not falling. This phenomenon was similar to what he had just gone through a little bit before, but it wasn’t exact. 

Mammon grabbed his brother’s arm, shouting as loud as he could, but his voice lost in the commotion. So he emphasized his words, hoping his brother could read his lips. “What’s going on?!” 

The pain in Mammon’s ribs, the pounding in his head, none of those compared to the torment he felt in his soul as soon as he caught the genuine fear in Lucifer’s eyes. Despite their spats and disagreements, he looked up to his older brother whole-heartedly. Lucifer always seemed perfectly indomitable. There were very few things that could get his brother shaken up. Apparently, they had landed themselves in one of those rare circumstances. He answered Mammon back, pointing down at the prison walls. The cells that had been beside them were now below them. It took Mammon a second to figure out what Lucifer had said. He was never really good at reading lips. Once the message was clear, his heart almost stopped in his chest. No…that was such a ridiculous answer! His brother must be joking! But this was Lucifer he was with…and now was definitely not the time for messing around. “The prison is moving,” was what he had said. Sure enough, the walls continued to twist, the tunnel coming back up to reposition themselves vertically…but in the opposite orientation that had been in. Up was now Down and Down was now Up. What was below was now above. Like a messed up version of an hourglass, that frantic mass of demons at the other end of the pit would now be plummeting down on them. 

So much for the high-ground advantage. 

You got down on your knees, smile fading, shaking Belphie’s arms. You couldn’t call out for him, your voice was dead. You could only try to lift his head, get him to look at you. His eyes were closed. But your mark…he was alive…he was just…hurt. Badly. You looked around at where you were…very very far away from the house. You would use the spell you’d learned but…what if it hurt him more than helped him? You wanted to sob, but you were even too tired to do that. No, neither of you could die out in this snow, not after you’d just done all that. 

The bag that Belphie had carried on him was gone, apparently torn off in the scuffle. There had been supplies in there, things that would’ve been helpful to you right now…Could demons bleed out like humans? You didn’t want to take that risk. With frantic fingers, you unbuttoned the coat around you, shrugging it off your shoulders, shuddering a bit as the icy air bit at your body. You’d be even colder in a minute, but just for a moment. You took off your shirt, pulling it off your head before quickly putting the coat back over you. The dagger…where was the dagger? You stood up, pacing around in the snow before you found it half-way buried by the roots of one of the many trees. You raced back to Belphie’s side, working on using the fabric of the shirt to make a bandage. It was the only thing you could think of to do…There would be more supplies at the house…you just had to make it there. 

Hold on, you wanted to promise, making up for your lack of voice by caressing the side of his face, pulling his head into your lap so he wasn’t planted in the snow. Shaking hands worked on making the shirt into long pieces, doing your best to pull up Belphie’s demon clothes to wrap the fabric around his torso. He would be fine…he had to be. He had to. Tugging the make-shift bandage tightly around him, it quickly grew warm and wet. It was hardly enough, and you could only hope it was a touch better than being completely pointless. You pushed his clothes back over him, hoping to keep him warm. Although you knew out of everything, the temperature was the least of his worries. The cold should be your worry.

Placing the dagger back through the loop of your jeans, you looked at the mask in the snow one last time, hoping with all your soul that it had been enough…and trying to not think of how messed up that whole thing had been. Come on, you thought, almost like you were trying to speak to Belphie through your mind. This would be…grueling. Perhaps impossible. But the only thing you had left in you was stubbornness, your tenacity to never let anything go. You grasped at Belphie’s arms, panting, trying to pull him up to drape over your back. You tried to take a step with him and fell, almost flattening against the ground. Demons were definitely…heavier than humans. 

Curses flooded your mind, having to shake him off of you, gripping your hair as you tried to think of what to do. The only thing you could think of was pulling him along. So, you grabbed the fabric of his hood, tugging as hard as you could, digging your heels into the snow. He moved a few inches. 

Tug. You didn’t want to think about it. Thinking took up too much energy. Tug. Demons healed faster than humans, he would be okay. Tug. He was the demon of sloth, he was just sleeping it off. Tug. You’d make it. Tug. You’d both make it. Tug. Just. Tug. Keep. Tug. Moving. 

You fell backwards in the snow, tripping over a fallen tree-branch. As your body hit the ground, you almost passed out right there. You were exhausted. Soon, there would be a point where no amount of determination would save you. You looked around, unable to tell where you were in regards to how far you were from the house. You’d both run a long way. It took you both a while to make it this far while walking. How would you make it back dragging him along? It would take hours…hours you felt you didn’t have. 

But you’d be damned if you didn’t try. 

With your arms placed under his, fingers locked behind his neck, you pulled him up over the branch, using the weight of your whole body to haul him through the snow, finding it a touch more effective than just pulling his shirt, but finding it drained you faster. At least it was keeping you warm, moving around, blood pumping harshly through your body, your heart pounding in your chest. You stopped every now and again to breathe, gulping air into your weak lungs. Eventually, you noticed plenty of demon blood on the ground. You’d made it to where you first met the beast. You dropped Belphie, almost collapsing. You’d made it…halfway…You laughed a bit, a tear falling down your cheek. It had been a ridiculous goal anyway…but halfway…not bad…for a human. 

You fell to your knees, taking one of Belphie’s arms and giving it one last…tug. His arm was wrapped around you as you snuggled up near his body in the snow. This was fine, you assured yourself. You did what you could to save him. You had no regrets. Up until the end you stayed with them. Lilith and Lucifer would be proud. You’d pushed yourself so far…and you were prepared to lie in the bed you’d made for yourself. And at least…you’d get one final nap with Belphie…

So you closed your eyes. Goodnight. 

Somewhere in the blackness, the void of unconsciousness, you found a warmth. It felt familiar. So, you went towards it. There was a voice calling for you, one you knew all too well by now. “I’m sorry,” you apologized. “I tried…” 

The light and the warmth enveloped you. “I know.” 

“Will he be okay, Lilith?” 

Even though you could not see her, it was as if you could feel her smile. “I think so.” You somehow sat down, even though there wasn’t really a floor to do that, even though this was just your mind…your soul? You were never sure. “What you did was very brave.” 

“It was stupid.” 

She hummed in amusement, much like in the way Lucifer did. Perhaps she got it from him, or maybe the other way around. “Thank you…for saving him…” Her voice began to become more distant. “I know…it’s selfish…but please…” She was almost fully gone now. You scrambled back to your feet, a little confused. Isn’t this where she was supposed to take you away? Or at least stay with you till the end? “Save…the rest of them…I beg of you…” 

“Lilith?” You called out, the warmth of her light fading. Then your stomach dropped, your heart feeling like it lurched up into your chest as you felt like you were falling, plummeting through a darkness with no end. You tried to scream, but your voice was gone again, or maybe you couldn’t hear it through the wind rushing past your ears. You hit the ground. 

Then your eyes opened. 

Everything was blurry, a mushed up series of colors and shapes. What…what was this?...It took you a good few tries before you could keep your eyelids fully open, trying to turn your head, although it hurt like hell. Your whole body hurt like hell. Moving happened in increments, little shifts until you could look to your left. Heat lightly waved across your face, and it took you far too long to realize that it was…a fire? You shut your eyes again, exhausted, taking the time to feel around you. A little weight was across your body…but not Belphie. A blanket? 

Was this not death? 

Sitting up was much too hard, gripping at whatever surface you could find around you, your entire body shaking as you pulled yourself up into a seated position. Your head swam, body in agony, but you kept your eyes open, forcing them to stay open. This was not the forest. This was–

“You’re awake!” The sound of pounding footsteps thundered through the room, two arms wrapping around you, pulling you in so tightly you nearly blacked out again. Your head fell back, but you bobbed it forward, listening to the person panic, their voice almost muffled as you struggled to fight with your own body, your senses dulled. “I’m sorry…I’m sorry, please look at me…please…MC…” The person’s voice finally sparked a connection in your mind. You fluttered your eyes open, working on getting your eyes to focus. 

It was bittersweet, truly, almost cruel. Once you could settle your eyes on the person before you, you cried. You were so filled with joy…and yet, as you croaked, there was a clear chord of sadness to your voice. Voice still gone, you were surprised the noise that came out of your mouth was comprehensible. You squeaked his name, a weak hand coming up to rest on the side of his face. You were worried you were hallucinating. Although, even if you were, this would’ve been a good dream. But this was real, you had to figure. His body was warm. His tears ran over your fingers. “Beel.”

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me beel #obey me belphie #obey me diavolo #tainted reflections #tw blood #tw violence #tw death #tw gore #tw body horror #tw disturbing imagery

[andrigyn]

Chapter Three

Lucien and Elain have some fun of their own at the ball. Nesta and Cassian are reunited, and the arrangement between Rhysand and Eris becomes more complicated.

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Elain loved parties. She always had, and probably always would. Secretly, she yearned for a time not so long ago when she and her older sister were close enough to enjoy them together. Their relationship was now fractured, because Nesta was too stubborn to assimilate into this court. Instead, she chose to hold on to a shadow of the past. She clung to it so tightly, that not even confining her to the House was enough to get through to her, at least not yet. Whether or not a stay in Autumn would spark a change in attitude was an unanswered question.

One thing led to another, and now she watched her sister and Eris from the sidelines of the ballroom. They were gliding across the floor as if they had never been interrupted by Cassian in the first place. After the Illyrian had gotten his dance, he marched back to the other side of the room to chat with Azriel. Elain thought that he looked awfully pleased with himself for a male who was sending a female, who was likely his mate, to go live in another court with another male. However, she couldn’t begrudge him for his positive attitude. Through it all, Nesta and Cassian always found their way back to each other. ‘Opposites attract’ was a human saying that didn’t seem to have an equivalent in Prythian, but it still proved true. That’s what they were, physical and spiritual opposites. 

Elain turned, and walked through the arched entryway she had been leaning against. The music of the Fae was far more bewitching than anything she had heard before, but even the pleasant sounds were not alluring enough to keep her in that ballroom for too long. It felt wrong to watch her bullheaded sister be controlled like a puppet on a string, especially by a male. She was but a shadow of her former self. Mother’s guidance was a different matter. She was harsh, yes, but she taught them everything she knew. Everything she did was a labor of love, even if Nesta couldn’t see it. She would have made them into queens if she were still alive. 

The side room was empty, save for a few nobles milling about in their own little groups. They were too self absorbed to notice one of the sisters of their High Lady ambling in. It was only a male with long, blazing red hair who acknowledged her prescence, dressed in a dark green coat. Elain wondered if green was a popular color in Autumn as well, or if it was a holdover from his time in Spring. The Vanserra family was all dressed in hues of red, orange, and gold, like the tops of the trees during the change of seasons. 

Lucien looked nervous. His eyes darted to the closest exit at the sight of her, before seeming to realize that it was too late to flee. Not only would it have been rude, but Elain showed him that she didn’t feel the need to run away either. Hell, she approached him. 

“Your older brother, and my older sister… who would’ve thought?” she asked with a smile. The wine in her system was working its magic, and giving her the courage to finally break her silence. After all, they were at Nesta and Eris’s engagement party, so how strange could this be in comparison? 

Lucien looked down at his drink. “I knew the day would come eventually that my brother would settle down, but I have to admit I’m shocked as well.” 

He still looked apprehensive. However, Elain couldn’t discern whether it was due to her striking up a conversation, or the fact that his estranged family was in the other room. His parents didn’t say a word to him, and neither did any of his brothers. Now that she really thought about it, they hadn’t even looked at him. It was as if Lucien was invisible, or worse, dead to them. 

“I was surprised to see that you came, I don’t think I would have if it wasn’t expected of me,” she said. 

Lucien looked past her, and off into the distance. “Sometimes I think that it would be easier to stay in the human lands forever, to fade into obscurity, but Prythian is my home. I won’t give up my place here so easily.”

Elain nodded. “They can try to ignore you all they like, but it doesn’t change the fact that you’re here. Although you’d think that after all this time, they’d let it go…” 

He smiled, and finally looked her in the eye. “We may live long lives, Elain, but that only means we have more time to hold grudges. Wisdom doesn’t come from age alone.” 

Elain frowned. “That sounds like a terrible waste of a life.” If she was honest with herself, nothing here made sense to her, she only pretended that it did. How anyone could spend centuries hating their own kin was beyond her. The Archeron sisters weren’t exactly getting along these days, but Elain had to believe that they would resolve their differences soon. She wondered how long before she would shed the values of her human upbringing, and become as heartless as these creatures she lived amongst. How long could she possibly hold out and still survive here? A century? Two? 

“Agreed,” Lucien said. There was a sorrow behind his words that sounded so utterly familiar, and human to her. Perhaps he was not as unfeeling as the rest of the Fae.

Elain shook her head. If he spent any longer moping in this room, his family would surely think he was hiding. There were less direct ways to make a point, as she was sure Lucien already knew, but it seemed that nothing was subtle in the Night Court. The inner circle was quick to address every problem with force before even considering other options. This wasn’t Elain’s way, and it didn’t seem to be Lucien’s either. 

“Let’s not waste our time then, come dance with me,” she said.

His eyes perked up at the suggestion, but he didn’t move. Elain quickly grabbed his hand and led him out to the dance floor.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

When Rhysand first told Nesta that she was to attend this ridiculous fake engagement party, she felt as if she had traveled back in time to see her mother again. This was precisely the sort of scheme that she would have cooked up, minus the killing part, of course. The woman wanted the best for her eldest daughter, and she was convinced that what was best for Nesta was to marry a prince. There were dukes, earls, barons, and marquesses, but her mother didn’t take any of them seriously. She wondered what her mother would think of the Vanserras, after she was finished cursing them for being Fae bastards. 

But once she got here, she realized that this wasn’t anything like her mother’s meddling. In fact, it was too easy for Nesta to spend the evening with Eris. He was nothing like the humorless, and often ugly men that she was forced to entertain the possibility of marrying as a teenager. No, his russet eyes that were framed by thick, dark lashes were easy to get lost in. She found herself fixating on the elegant curve of his nose and jaw. It was a shock to Nesta, who had never been affected by a male’s beauty in this way. She had to actively remind herself that he and his family were dangerous. 

“May I speak candidly?” Eris asked. 

“I don’t see why not.” 

“Why have you agreed to help me?” 

Nesta paused, unsure of how to respond. She didn’t choose any of this, but she’d be damned before she let anyone else know that. Revealing weakness this early into the game would not bode well. She had to remember that as a Cauldron made Fae, she had an element of mystery about her that she would do well to foster. 

“I enjoy challenges. Until very recently, I thought I had maybe 70 or 80 years to live… but now I have nothing but time. I think I shall take whatever interesting opportunities come my way, and not squander it.” 

Eris nodded in reply. “I think you’re wasted here on the Night Court, then.” 

“I don’t care to be utilized properly, I care to be free.” Nesta wasn’t fibbing when she said it, but she doubted Eris would believe that she was free here. It would’ve been impossible for her to tell that lie with any kind of conviction if anyone asked directly.

“You are nothing if not ambitious,” he scoffed, “ Nobody in this world has freedom, Nesta.” 

“I think you’re just too old and jaded to understand,” She said with a laugh. 

Nesta may have expected the worst when she went to the party, but she was pleasantly surprised. The Autumn male that she met was nothing like the way he was described. He was amiable, and even tempered. The night wore on, and after hours of dancing, the band played its last song. She and Eris weren’t left for more than a minute in silence before Cassian was back, and ready to retrieve her. The Autumn male had done an excellent job of riling him up. Nesta couldn’t recall the last time that Cassian had paid this much attention to her. 

“Nesta, it’s time to return home,” he said. 

She only nodded in reply before turning to face Eris again. The male released her, and Nesta instantly felt the absence of his hand on her back. He wasn’t finished yet, though. To add insult to injury, he looked right at the Illyrian before taking her hand in his and kissing it. 

“Until next time,” he said. 

‘Until then,” Nesta replied. 

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Nesta hoped that flying home in Cassian’s arms, still wearing that god forsaken dress, was the final hardship she would have to bear that night. When the pair arrived at the House, it was quiet. Azriel must have stopped at the River House for some reason. The fact that they finally had some alone time didn’t matter to Nesta, and she started up the stairs to retire to her room. The male had been gone for three days, interrupted her work at the party, and now he had nothing more to say to her? But unfortunately, she wouldn’t be getting away so easily. He followed, and then he slipped through the doorway behind her. 

“That wasn’t right, what you just had to do.” He cupped her face in his hand, and stroked her cheek gently with his thumb. 

Nesta wasn’t sure what to say, because in reality, the party wasn’t so bad. She recalled how she once told him the story of how she was tasked with seducing a duke as a young teenager, but that couldn’t be compared to her current situation. Although Eris was charming and flirtatious, she assumed he wasn’t seriously interested in her anyways. It was all part of his game. 

“I told you, it’s not your fault,” she whispered. 

“I didn’t realize how hard it would be to see you with someone else, especially a male like him-” 

“But I’m not with him, remember, it’s all fake. You don’t get to abandon me here, and then act as if I’ve been disloyal for what your family has forced me into.”

Cassian sighed. “That’s not what I meant I - All I ever wanted was for you to be happy here. I left to have some space to think because I had no idea what to do, I still don’t.” 

“There’s nothing for you to do, Cas, it’s done. You’ll have to wait here, and trust that I have what it takes to pull this off. And then, after the deed is done, I’ll return.”

Cassian pulled her into a tight embrace. She resisted at first, but eventually melted into him. Nesta didn’t want to argue, especially not when she would be leaving so soon. Her feelings for the male were too complicated for her to process. Some days he was caring, and affectionate regardless of who was watching. Other days, he’d ignore her, but only outside of sex of course. It was hard for her to get a read on what his true intentions were. The longer she stayed in Autumn, the more likely it would be that he’d forget all about her and move on. Nesta had to remind herself not to get too attached before he had proven that his devotion would last. 

“I’m going to come visit you as often as I can, and I promise I won’t let any harm come to you while you’re there,” he said. Nesta wasn’t sure how he could promise that. It was so obviously out of his control. Perhaps he was trying to convince himself, rather than her. 

The male then did something that truly shocked her. He asked to stay the night.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Eris slumped back into his chair, and listened to the fire crackle in the hearth. He didn’t like staying in the Hewn City. This wasn’t the first time he slept in this dreary bedroom, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. However, it was likely that his long standing alliance with Keir would take a back seat to whatever this new partnership between him and the inner circle turned out to be. It was hard for the male to admit that he was all but backed into a corner when it came to dealing with his father. It was even harder for him to realize he needed assistance, and that the only bastard in Prythian who was crazy enough to help him was Rhysand. 

The proposal was mostly the inner circle’s idea. Eris wasn’t sure why they were itching to get rid of Nesta so quickly, but he wouldn’t complain. She was Made, after all, which marked her as special. That raw power combined with the essence of who she was made her invaluable. He looked forward to seeing what she was truly capable of. The Night Court was no place for a female as impressive as her, and he intended to show her another side to life in Prythian. 

Seeing Nesta up close like that made him realize how captivating she truly was. From her glossy, golden brown hair to those icy blue eyes, he was smitten. He was intrigued from the time he saw her at the High Lord’s meeting, but he was far beyond that now. If the inner circle were trying to use her to entice him, they were doing a bang up job, but not in the way they intended. The slinky dress that she wore accentuated every curve and showed plenty of skin. However, it wasn’t her. No, Nesta looked stiff, and she wasn’t doing a good job convincing him that she was there of her own volition. Every one of her moves was calculated. Eris wanted to do it all again with her and more, but only if she chose it. 

The sound of a knock on the door snapped Eris out of his daydream. He lifted his head and before he even had the chance to say ‘Come in’, the High Lord of Night entered. He snarled at the sight of him in that same black getup from the party earlier. The more time he spent here, the more reasons they gave him to hate this hellhole. If privacy didn’t exist in this court for a guest of royal birth, how were they treating Nesta? He shuddered at the thought of someone barging into her room unannounced. 

“Did you enjoy the party?” Rhys flashed a sly grin. 

Eris sighed. “Why are you really here, Rhysand? I have a long day ahead of me tomorrow, so I don’t have the time to sit and chat.”

“Just checking in, making sure you weren’t having any… second thoughts.” 

“You speak as if there is something wrong with her. I’d take her back to Autumn with me right now if you’d allow it,” Eris said. 

The smile fell from the High Lord’s face. “The girl will go when I say it’s time. She is very valuable to me, and to my court, so you will be patient.” 

“Please, spare me the intimidation tactics. I know you’re not helping me out of the kindness of your heart. You need me just as much as I need you, don’t forget it,” Eris snapped. 

“Very well, but I do need to amend the terms of our arrangement,” Rhys purred. 

“How so?” 

“I will be sending someone to check up on Nesta at regular intervals for the duration of her stay.” 

Eris chuckled. “Out of the question. I cannot sneak visitors without the wards alerting my father to their prescence.” 

“Then don’t sneak them in, invite them. It will only be Elain, with Cassian as her entourage.” 

Eris paused to consider it. Elain visiting would probably not be an issue, because it could be easily explained away. He wasn’t sure if Nesta and her sister were on good terms, because they did not speak at all during the party, but it was safe to assume she might appreciate a familiar face popping in every now and again. Cassian was another story, however. Where the Archeron sister was non threatening, Cassian’s appearance and demeanor didn’t do much to set anyone at ease. He also had a history of royally pissing off his father, and was clearly infatuated with Nesta. 

“I could probably work something out for Elain, but Cassian is pushing it, and you know that,” Eris said. 

“He is only concerned for her safety, and will be under strict orders not to interfere.” 

Eris sighed. He had a feeling that he meant Nesta’s safety, and not Elain’s. “Fine, whatever it takes for you to leave. It’s awfully low of you to bother me with such brazen requests right before bed.” 

“Enjoy the rest of your night then,” Rhysand said, before he turned to leave without another word. There were no pleasantries with the High Lord, he was all business and got straight to the point. He was very much his father’s son in that way. It wasn’t as if Eris expected them to roll out the red carpet for him when he visited because, after all, the Night Court was not generally accepting of outsiders. This outdated way of thinking predated Rhysand, and even his father, who was old as dirt when he died. 

The High Lord of Night had one more similarity to his father, and it was that he had difficulty hearing the word ‘no’. He would pitch a truly harebrained scheme, and then throw a fit at even the slightest pushback. Eris wasn’t even sure he’d be able to convince his father to allow Cassian in. He just said all of that to placate Rhysand for now, and ensure that he would allow him to leave with Nesta as was promised. 

Eris sighed. He’d figure it out later, but for now he needed to get some rest.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Tag List (lmk if you want to be added!): @tuzna-pesma-snova​ , @majestythewraith​ , @acotardeservesbetter​

#neris #nesta x eris #pro nesta #nesta archeron #acotar #a swing in the dark #andy's writing #FUCK IT TWO CHAPTERS THIS WEEK

[ask-healthy-light]

Still somewhat dumbfounded at Decaf's ability to read through Boom's awful writing, Light grabbed their bag, preparing to head out to meet Boom, and find out what he's up to. They headed upstairs to grab the book that he had left them, hoping to be able to read some parts, as well as ask him what it even was about or why it was so important.

Light headed downstairs and quickly grabbed a bottle of water to take along with them, placing it in their bag as they headed to the door, before being stopped by Caff and Harvest, asking what they were about to do. They responded that they were going to meet Boom, and hopefully get some answers from him, and they had not a moment to lose.

Still, neither Caff not Harvest let them pass, to which Light asked why, as the voice of Banana spoke out from behind them, telling them they were joining them to find Boom. Light said that it could be dangerous and that Boom should be approached with caution, him being the chaotic force that he is, and they did not want to risk anyone getting injured.

Decaf called out from the kitchen and said 'Have you learnt nothing of the stubbornness of my sister and Pie? They're coming along, whether you like it or not.' Caff threw on her backpack as Banana did the same right next to Light. Light sighed and smiled, asking them if they were sure about their decision.

With a chuckle, Banana replied 'You've brought us this far, and you have not led us astray. Face it, we're coming with you, laddie.' Harvest said they would stay at home and help around the house, and stepped aside to let the trio pass as they headed for the door, waving a quick goodbye to Decaf and Harvest as they headed to the train station.

Outwardly, Light was happy that Banana and Caff came along with them, but, deep down, they were still afraid something may go wrong, and they made sure to stay alert and jump in at a moment's notice, should there be any threat of danger or injury to either one of their companions. Fortunately, the sun was still high in the sky, and, if everything goes to plan, they should make it back home before dinnertime.

After a short trip on the train and getting off at the next station, Caff, Banana and Light looked upon a rocky area, having gotten off at a station on the other side of the mountain, standing in its shadow. They looked around and could see many different peaks, and they searched around for any sign of Boom, if his note was true.

The note he had left did say that he would know when they got there, and Light reasoned that nobody else would get off here, knowing that the train sped past this station on the way to Canterlot. With all the rocks and cliffs around, Boom could hear a train stopping from very far away, as the echoes reverberated around the area.

As Light, Caff and Banana looked around, they heard a number of pebbles falling down from the cliffs above them, Light made a barrier to protect the trio. As the stones fell around them, they could hear an expression of pain and an audible grunt from behind a rock next to them. Boom appeared, rubbing his head, muttering to himself over needing to wear a helmet next time.

Though his frustration amused the trio, and they were glad they found him, he had a lot to answer for, and they were not in the mood for weird riddles or strange mind games. Asking what it is he wanted, he replied:

'There is barely any time to waste. You need to read the chapter I marked as soon as you can, before the end of the special performance tomorrow.'

(Thanks for reading! Please feel free to send a question or a thought you had! And if you enjoyed, please reblog! Thanks in advance!)

Send an ask! | Start at the beginning! | Next part!

Featuring: Banana Pie from @askbananapie Caff and Decaf from @askcaffeinehazard Boomlord from @thedumbguywithaheart43 Harvest Duran from @duran301

#story related #my little pony #writing #oc #healthy light #harvest duran #banana pie #decaf #caff #boomlord #friendship is magic #mlp #mlp friendship is magic

[kyofsonder]

Find the Word Tag Game

I’ve been tagged by @on-noon to find the words they chose for me in any of my current WIPs and post the line/passage where I found each one. Thank you for the tag, and for the challenge! I definitely need to write more of my original works, because I found most of these in fanfics.

My words were: hoping, fit, home, caught, and compare

I found hoping in my Danny Phantom oneshot “Lingering Scars”:

"Going on with what? If you haven't noticed, Jazz, there's a lot going on all the time in this town. In this family. In my life. You're gonna have to be a little more specific."

"With you! With these stains! This is clearly blood from that huge scratch you got the last time you were trying to train Cujo, but you told me that already healed and I haven't seen you wincing at the dinner table once lately! I know you've done laundry since then, too, it's been at least a month. So why is there a stain? Why are you hurt in the same place, to the same degree, when I can't see any evidence that you're hurt! At all! What's going on with you?" Jazz is nearly out of breath by the time she finishes her questions. Her arms can't seem to settle on being crossed in front of her chest or flailed out in the direction of Danny's laundry.

"You... noticed all that?" Danny asks quietly, muttering a curse to himself and hoping Dani doesn't hear.

I found fit in a rough draft of my Given oneshot “Present Tense”:

There's a person. For the first time in what feels like a very long time, and no time at all, there's a person on the beach with him. Their back is turned to him, but their features keep… shifting. They’re wearing a strange uniform, that looks in turns like the one he used to wear in middle school and the one he wears now as a high schooler. It doesn't quite fit on their body, either. Maybe a girl wearing a boy's uniform that’s too big for her? Or a boy who's grown too quickly and made his clothes too small? Somehow, it's almost both. Neither. Why would anyone other than him be in a place like this, wearing clothes that keep changing on their own? The question doesn't stay in his mind long.

I found home in my novel WIP “To Be Honest”:

Their family had searched. An assistant sent by the Shepherd family had searched. Micah himself had gone out into the wilderness beyond his home time and time again, just like tonight, and that last question had never been answered. The questions of where Asher and David had gone, whether they'd lived or died, whether they blame him even now -- none of those have ever been answered. So why, when he finally gets a chance to ask someone who was actually involved, is Micah in this situation? Why is David insisting that Micah is trying to ask something else? What went wrong?

I found caught in “Lingering Scars” again:

"If you don't tell us why you're hurt, Danny, I swear I'll --!" she has her threats primed for him and everything. No mercy. No delay. Fenton through and through. Caught between terrifying a kid who's already been through too much and being hunted for sport by a Fenton who's been dabbling in ghost hunting her whole life.

I also found compare(d) in “Lingering Scars”:

For the first time since they'd started talking, the cold in Danny starts to ease. Settle back into its usual place. His blood always runs a little chilly, and he's always half-conscious of that nebulous space inside him where it all pools together, but it changes when he's scared. The intensity difference between the normal state of the ice powers that live in him and the literal fight-flight-or-freeze version of them can't possibly be compared. His whole body relaxes when it goes back to normal.

To keep the game going, I’ll tag @aohendo, @writingpotato07, @calicojackofficial, @midnights-melodiverse, @wildjuniperjones, @galaxy-writes, @365runesofwriting, and any other mutual who wants to try to find these words in their own WIPs can say I tagged them!

To those I’m tagging, your words are: agitation, exchange, gesture, deliberate, inconsistent

#writing #tag game #find the word #sonder stories #sonder snippets #I expected to miss some #I'm surprised I found all of them #in fanfic #but still #tho it does show #I need to give my original work more attention #poor neglected WIPs #overshadowed by fanfics #I need to balance that out

[nightcall99]

Soul writing from 23.4.24

In the shower, I got the message that these feelings I'm having are because we are integrating that we've had enough here. Please elaborate.

You also heard that we're accelerating things. [Gets shown an image of a goldfish in a plastic bag, like when you get it from the store. You sit the bag in the tank to let the fish acclimatise to the new temperature before you release it, so that it gets used to it and doesn't suffer from shock] You're the fish in the bag. Adapting to the energy as you must, to the new conditions, as we've decided to do now. And what happens when the temperature has been adapted to but the owner walks away for awhile? You're still in a plastic bag. You can see, you can feel, all that is possible. But you're restricted.

That's exactly how I feel right now. So there isn't much to be done about it?

It is there to be felt because it brings you to the next part. There's nothing wrong, just feel it. You're safe. You're okay. You're diving in these unknown waters but you have everything you need. It's all in your arsenal.

Why was I supposed to take notice of what was happening when I was leaving today?

Wasn't it a perfect summary for what is happening? You were about to go home but you chose to cross the road and return. For a little while. You remember the street and all the people. You even sarcastically said "Look at us all standing out here amongst the community". There was light. It was nice and temporary. Yes, you hated it too. There was nothing to say and no one was there. It was pointless. That's just how it feels right now.

What did this morning's house dream mean?

It is representative of the waiting, what you have been doing to pass the time. It's late, as depicted by it being almost midnight. None of those people were there and neither were you. Everyone is just kind of there participating in nothing much at all, some of it was strange and random. You don't particularly want to be there but you're not averse to it either.

And the cinema dream?

The things showing on screen symbolise the game you are playing. Its like a video game. Participating in the purchase of the random 3D product, is you manipulating the game but from a place of comfort. And there is no separation. There is only you, no one else. Everyone's experiences are in a sense, singular, but one. And it's all easy now, right? There was a surprise, even. The energy was already spent and you're no longer paying for anything. Just collect the experience, it's already done.

What's next? I'm so tired of having to wear all these masks to survive.

We know you're past the point of many things. But prepare yourself to hear this: It's coming. Now wait for the feeling that comes. Describe it.

It's light and tingly.

And didn't you feel that for most of the day, this sensation that "it is coming". When did it stop? Why? Ask yourself

Human emotions. Jealousy. Regret. Sadness. Angst. What am I supposed to do about that? Not feel it?

It's not real. You have given up everything else but we, the essence, are not interested in this and that's why we left. The NPC is acclimatizing. It falls back into old thought patterns but it's okay. It is all happening fast, very fast. There are two modes of feelings and emotions that are happening to 'you' right now. Those of the NPC which exist as an echo of the previous game, and those of the HS which are filtering through and act as signals. You are learning the difference, that's all. You realise that you know this. We are showing you right now how you are starting to notice this, how you start to write and then come back later and the feeling is completely different. The message, completely different. That is what we want you to take notice of.

[impulstor]

its rly funny to me how ambiguous grian's hair color is in regards to fanart/fics

like theres a good portion of people that write or draw him with light brown hair, and a good portion that do so but blonde

dirty blonde hair is the most....... unreliable hair color, i think

#maybe its just funny bc i have dirty blonde hair and my friends have literally argued about my own hair color before dkfjdk #.txt #grian #and like. neither one Looks wrong either. but they are noticeably different so its strange #idk if this makes sense!!!! grian hair weird. my hair also weird. we love 2 see it :)

[mandos-sluts]

The Visit

This is Part One of a three-part series

The Visit Part Two

The Visit Part Three

The Mandolorian x Fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 3.5k

Warnings: Smut, dubious consent, fingering, dirty talk, mentions of sex work

Summary: You are Luke Skywalker’s Padawan, training directly under him at his Jedi Academy. Din Djarin is staying at the compound for a few days to visit Grogu.

A/N: Please message us or comment if you want to be on our tag list!! Also we love feedback <3

“What does he look like?”

“He’s a Mandalorian. Big silver shiny armor. Can’t miss him.”

*************************************

Boy was he right. You spot Din as soon as you step into the cantina. He’s standing at the bar, leaning over it slightly. His visor catches your eye from across the room, and he stares at you for a while, looking you up and down, before turning his head back to the bar. He’s never seen someone so beautiful in this parsec before.

Your Master, Luke Skywalker, told you to meet Din at the cantina and escort him to the Jedi Academy. Luke had similarly informed Din that he was sending his Padawan to rendezvous.

You know all about Din Djarin. You know his whole deal with Grogu and the Darksaber, and his run-ins with the Empire and the Guild. The story of his miraculous rescue of Grogu made its way around the school after Luke brought the child back to the Academy.

The cantina that you’re at is located in the town that lies right outside the Jedi Academy compound. It’s a place that many students go to blow off steam and hang out.

You find yourself surprisingly nervous as you walk up to the tall intimating Mandalorian. “Excuse me.” You say.

“Not interested.” He says shortly without even looking at you.

”What?” You asked, confused.

“I said I’m not interested.”

“Not interested in what?”

”Your services.”

”My services?” You don’t understand. Is he wanting to travel to the grounds by himself? That’s not an option....he wouldn’t be permitted on the estate without an escort. Didn’t Luke tell him of this arrangement?

Din exhales, clearly annoyed, and finally turns to look at you. “Do I need to spell it out for you? I’m not looking for a whore.”

You stand there, completely dumbfounded, your mouth slightly open from shock. A whore? What the fuck?!!

In his defense, you are wearing a rather skimpy-looking outfit. You have on what is essentially a tennis skirt and a bandeau; it’s the hot season on the planet. Even so, this guy is an asshole.

You take a breath and put a fake smile on your face. “My apologies….Din Djarin.” You say in a suggestive manner. Turning around to leave, Din whips around and grabs your upper arm tightly, yanking you closer to him.

“How do you know that name?” Din loudly whispers in a demanding, low voice.

You’re not stupid, you know that his name is known only by a few. “My industry has very skilled people.” You respond, hoping he will get the hint that you are in fact not a sex worker, but actually the person he’s supposed be meeting.

”Are you telling me your brothel somehow got a hold of my name?” Din is pretty pissed. Is this what he gets from doing dealings with Jedi? His name gets leaked to brothels?

You let out a sigh as your eyes roll. You snatch your arm out of his grasp and move swiftly out the door into the street. What a jerk. This guy can find his own way to the compound.

Din tries to follow you, needing to know how a random whore got his name, but the streets are pretty crowded.

”Oh, Mr. Djarin!” Din hears someone say. He looks over his shoulder and sees Luke Skywalker approaching him.

“H-hi, Master Skywalker.” Din says, deciding to give up on his pursuit of you, after all, that’s not the reason he’s here.

“I’m surprised to see you here, did my Padawan not pick you up?” Luke asks.

“No. He never showed.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry about that. Let me take you to the Jedi Temple.”

************************************* You hear your Master’s voice and footsteps nearing the empty lounge you’re sitting in. It’s a pretty big, dark lit room. There’s a conference table on one end, and an arrangement of couches and chairs spread across the place. It’s always empty, and you often use the area to meditate or exercise or just hang out. You pretend to look busy, eager for what’s about to occur.

“It is strange that my Padawan did not show up to greet you.” You hear Luke say behind the wall. He pokes his head around the door. “Ah, here she is.” He says walking into the lounge.

She? Din walks a few feet behind Luke. He turns the corner and walks through the door, freezing in his footsteps as soon as he lays eyes on you. There you are, the woman who approached him at the cantina….Luke’s Padawan.

You stare into his visor with a smug half smile on your face and slowly rise from your seat. You’re reveling in how taken aback he clearly is.

“Y/n, this is Din Djarin. I thought we discussed that you’d meet him at the cantina and escort him to the Academy? He says you didn’t show.” Luke says innocently as he stands between you and Din.

“Oh. I did go to the cantina. I guess I missed you.” You say slowly with your eyes locked on his helmet. “My apologies, Din Djarin.”

Din clears his throat. “Um n-no worries at all.” He chokes out. Shit! Din can’t believe he called you a whore. How did he not see the laser sword on your hip?

“Alright, well I’m gonna get to my meeting. Y/n, show Din around, alright?” Luke says.

“Of course Master.” You say with a slight bow of your head. You plant your gaze back on Din’s helmet as it rotates to watch Luke exit.

He slowly turns his look back to you, staring at him confidently with your hands on your hips.

“I’m sorry.” He says flatly through his modulator.

“For being such an asshole?” You say tilting your head.

“Yes. And assuming you were a prostitute.”

“There’s nothing wrong with sex workers. I’m not offended that you mistook me for one.” You say. But….why does it kind of turn you on that he thought you were a whore? Ugh and why does it turn you on that he is such a jerk??

There’s an awkward pause as you both stand there examining each other.

“So, you’re also a…Pawa-don?” Din asks, trying to fill the quiet. He has never been uncomfortable with silence before, in fact, he more often than not preferred it. But right now for some reason he feels different.

“Padawan.” You correct him. “And yes.”

“So are you doing the same training as the kid?” He further probes.

“Kind of. Grogu is more in the elementary stages of training. His focus is mainly on developing and fine-tuning his sensation with the Force. Most of my training nowadays centers around my lightsaber mastery and combat.” You inform him.

“Hm. Wonder when you’ll be good enough to battle me.” Din says casually as he takes a breath.

“What?” You ask.

“I said I wonder when you’ll be good enough in combat to put up a fight against me.”

Is he serious? Is he trying to provoke you? Even after the predicament he just found himself in with you? “Ha….um….I was good enough to fight you years ago.” You declare

Din looks at you for a moment. “I’m a Mandalorian.” He says simply.

“.....”

“The Mandalorian who wields the Darksaber. So you’re either overestimating your own ability or underestimating mine.”

You take a deep breath and take a step closer to him. “I know most people think that Mandalorians are the greatest warriors in the galaxy, but that’s because they don’t know of the Jedi Order. My connection with the force gives me strength that you will never know, that you will never be able to comprehend.”

Din takes a step closer to you. “That may be, but I have decades of combat experience that is simply unmatched by you, not to mention the most imperishable armour in the galaxy.”

“So what I’m hearing is that you would like to duel.” You say as you remove your saber from its holster and activate its blade. It’s a light lavender color, thin and sleek.

“That’s cute.” Din says. “Just a reminder, little girl. You were given that light saber. I won mine in battle.” He proclaims as he detaches his saber from his belt. *see gif*

“I made it. But fair point. Now enough talk, Mandalorian, are you ready to duel or what?” You say as you get into a battle stance.

Din holds his hand out. “If, by some miracle, you do happen to overpower me, don’t touch the saber. Bo-Katan is already mad enough that I have it, I can’t imagine what she’d do if a non-Mandalorian gets their hands on it again.”

“Yeah yeah, I’m well aware of the bizarre way that the ruler of Mandalore is chosen.”

“Alright then, princess, I won’t hold back.”

You feel heat rush through your core at those words. Princess. He won’t hold back. Uggh... focus! This guy has been demeaning you since the moment you met him, show him how powerful you are!

*************************************

You and Din battle for a good seven minutes, the two of you are pretty evenly matched, neither one of you gains the upper hand for very long. Just as you’re feeling your strength falter, you’re able to knock his saber out of his hands, and you push him onto the ground. Din tries to get up and reach for his saber but you plant yourself on top of him, straddling him. He looks up at you in defeat.

He takes a deep breath as you stare down at him. That’s when you notice the tent in his pants. You’re sitting on his legs so that his bulge is right above your crotch.

Adrenaline is pumping through your veins from your victory and a smile stretches across your face. “I have another quality that puts me at an advantage that I forgot to mention: your attraction to me and your primal desire to fuck me.” You say as you slowly place your hand on top of his clothed erection. You lean down and bring your face close to his helmet. “I bet your face is just bright red underneath this helmet of yours. Not only did you lose the battle, but your urges got the best of you.” You say in a condescending tone.

Din stares up at you, his chest moving up and down as he breathes.

“That’s where you and I differ.” You say. “A real warrior has self-control and self-restraint.”

Din moves his hands to your thighs and runs them up to your hips. “Who said I was trying to restrain myself?” He says in a raspy voice.

You’re a little caught off guard. You were teasing him, and this was not the reaction you were expecting. You thought he’d be embarrassed, you thought he’d want to get out of this situation as soon as possible.

“Face it.” You say after a pause. “You can’t repress your arousal, and your lack of self-control is a disadvantage to you.”

Din’s hands are still on your hips, and he pulls you up his body ever so slightly. “So since you have such great self-control, your panties wouldn’t happen to be wet right now, would they?” He inquires in a low, sultry voice.

You’re taken aback at his shameless words. “O-of course not.” You stutter as your confidence recedes.

“Let me see.” He demands flatly.

“What?” Did you hear him right? Your heart beat is pounding, you can’t tell if he’s joking around with you or not like you were doing with him.

“I said let me see.” Din says moving his gloved hands to the bottom of your skirt. “C’mon, pull this short little skirt up just a tad more and show me that your panties are dry.”

“N-no I–”

“Fine.” Din cuts you off. “I’ll do it myself.” He says as he removes one of his gloves. He then moves his bare hand under your skirt up to your pussy, easily pushing the thin panties you're wearing aside and planting two fingers inside your sopping wet folds.

You jerk at the contact of his soft skin on your sensitive pussy. “Din!” You exclaim. You grab his hand, but don’t move it.

Din chuckles. “Looks like you don’t have as much self-discipline as you claim.” He brings his other hand and cups your cheek. “Awwww, your face is just bright red right now.” Din mocks.

“W-whatever, you still lost.” You say out as you’re overcome with humiliation.

“Mmmmm. Congratulations.” Din says lazily as he removes his hand from your cunt and grabs your hips once again. “So, y/n. You showed me how Jedi fight. Let me show you how Mandalorians fuck.” He says as he pulls your hips and grinds you against his bulge.

Your panties are still pulled aside and the friction of his clothed erection against your clit makes you whimper.

“You– you wanna fuck me?” You ask hesitantly.

“Ha. Of course I wanna fuck you. Look at you.” He says as he lifts you off of him to stand up. Standing tall, he towers over you and brings his non-gloved hand to your chin, pulling it up gently to meet his gaze.

The unexpected and prompt shift in the power dynamic has you all turned around. Just moments ago, your confidence was through the roof. You were giddy claiming your victory against him, making fun of him for getting a boner during a duel. But the tone between the two of you has completely changed. He has you weak and timid, he’s looking down at your wide doe eyes as if you’re his prey.

“Come on, little Padawan. Practicing self-control is great, but let me show you what it’s like to lose all control over yourself.” Mando says as he wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you closer to him. “Cuz I would just love to tie you up and have my way with you.” He mutters. Dins hands slide down to your butt as he gropes your flesh, pulling you flat against him. “Let down your guard for just a moment and let me show you how rewarding it can be.” Din slips his bare hand back under your skirt to find your cunt even wetter than before. You let out a whimper and bat your eyes at him.

He starts slowly circling your clit, and moves his other hand up to caress your cheek softly. “Come on.” He whispers in your ear. “I promise you’ll enjoy it.”

High-pitched breaths are escaping your lips as he gently runs his thumb up and down your cheek bone.

“Can– can you not–” you breathe, sliding your hands up his chest.

“What. What is it?”

You pause for a moment. “Can you not be so gentle with me?” You say with slight embarrassment.

Din scoffs, “Oh baby girl, you’re gonna regret saying that.” He says as he grabs a fist full of your hair and roughly pulls your head back, exposing your delicate neck to him.

This harsh action sends shocks to your pussy. “Didn’t you say something about tying me up?” You purr with a slight smile, looking up into his visor.

“So I was right about you being a filthy fuckin whore.” Din spits as he shoves a finger inside of you, his thumb rubbing against your clit.

“Y-yeah, but only for you.” You whine as your eyes fall closed and high-pitched moans begin escaping your lips.

“Ohh that’s right baby.” Din praises. He’s so turned on by the way you’re speaking and responding to his touch, and he loves the impact he has on you. How you so quickly went from a confident fighter when he lost to you, to a shy little girl when he started teasing you, to a dirty slut once he got his hands in your panties.

He starts pumping his finger faster and you can hear the lewd noises your obscenely wet pussy is making. Your mouth opens even more with your moans becoming more pronounced and your back arches. You’re standing pressed flat up against him, he’s basically holding you up on your toes with one arm as his other hand drives into your cunt.

You can feel your orgasm just beginning to climb when you suddenly hear a beep on your watch’s intercom. It jolts you back to reality.

“Y/n, are you at the lounge? I’m heading back there now.” Your Master says through the intercom.

“Shit.” You say as you push Din’s chest, pulling yourself off of him. “I should have shown you to your accommodation by now.” You say as you frantically start looking around your feet for your saber. By the time you grab it and look up for Din, he has already made his way out the back exit.

You attach your saber to your hip as you try to steady your breathing, disoriented from the abrupt conclusion of whatever it was you were doing with Din. You hear Luke’s footsteps approaching as you quickly try to put your panties back in place, growling at how soaked they are. You’re praying that your Master doesn’t notice the wetness that has been smudged on your inner thighs.

*************************************

You cannot believe what you did with Din. No one has ever done anything like that to you before. You get hit on all the time��� you’re gorgeous— but you are almost never interested enough to give them the time of day. But Din? He had his fingers in your pussy after knowing you for ten minutes. How did he do that!?

It’s the early evening. You lie in your bed visualizing the events over and over again, heat pooling in your core as you replay the dirty things he said to you.

While it fuels your arousal, you also feel uneasy about the interaction. He left so quickly, and he left without saying a word to you, almost like nothing had happened. You hope that Din doesn’t think less of you, that he doesn’t think you’re some hussy who is easily persuaded into letting guys she just met finger fuck her.

You are pulled away from your anxious thoughts when you hear your intercom going off. It’s your friends talking about what they’re doing tonight. You don’t really care to pay attention, but you sit straight up in your bed when you hear something about that “Mandalorian who’s visiting the Academy,” and how he’s “at the cantina in town.”

You jump out of bed and without even thinking, you grab a sweater and head toward the parlor.

Your heart is beating on the chilly walk there. You hope he’s surprised to see you, you hope he’s excited to see you. You’re gonna act casual, yeah, like you didn’t even know he was there. No big deal! You’re just going to the cantina to hang with your friends. And then you see eachother, and bing bang boom, you guys are back in your room fucking while he calls you his little slut. Yes. This is gonna go great.

It’s a Friday night and the cantina is bustling. People are dancing, drinking, and gambling. It’s so loud that you can barely hear yourself think. As you make your way through the rowdy crowd, you spot Din’s helmet over the hordes of people. He is sitting in a somewhat secluded booth in the corner of the restaurant.

You proceed a few steps forward, lightly pushing people to get through the crowd, and then, your heart drops. He’s not sitting alone. There’s a girl, a woman, a sex worker, wrapped in his arm.

You stand there for a moment as everything goes quiet, you stare at Din and the beautiful woman in a tight short dress sitting beside him. She’s talking to him, saying things into the side of his helmet as he sits there looking forward with his arm casually draped around her, man spreading and all.

Din’s head turns and that’s when he notices you, standing there among the crowd of people in that same short high waisted skirt and a cropped sweater of the same color.

You feel something fall deep in your chest as you realize that he sees you. You blink a few times as the rest of your senses come back, humiliation and embarrassment overcoming you as you quickly turn around and stumble out of the bar.

You make your way into the dark street and take a few deep breaths before running back to the Academy. You're fighting off tears as you feel the cold air pinching every bit of your exposed skin.

You can’t believe that you let yourself become smitten by someone who was such an asshole. He mistook you for a whore, he insulted your combat skills, he pressed you to let him fuck you! You should have expected this.

A tear rolls down your cheek. Why did you think he liked you? He didn’t. He didn’t like you. And he didn’t want to fuck you, he just wanted to fuck someone, and you were the closest one to him. You let him use you. He must do this kind of shit all the time with women, you were nothing special.

You get back to your room and bury yourself under your covers, wanting to escape so badly from this reality.

TO BE CONTINUED

The Visit Part Two

The Visit Part Three

*************************************

Masterlist

*************************************

Taglist:

@pinkninja200 @raspberrymama @stevie75 @tacticalsparkles @kenoobiwan @shark-s @theamuz @blackrose8425 @beskarboobs @beskarboobs @smutslutz @princess-djarinn @spideysimpossiblegirl @riot-rotten

#the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian smut #the mandalorian fanfiction #star wars smut #mando x reader #pedro pascal smut #mandalorian smut #star wars fanfiction #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin smut #star wars x y/n #star wars x you #star wars x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x reader #mando x you #pedro pascal fanfiction #star wars #the mandalorian #mandalorian #pedro pascal #Star Wars smut #dubcon warning

[one-sad-human]

•Worth It• Duff Mckagan

Pairing: Velvet Revolver era! Duff Mckagan x Younger! Reader

Requested? Nope!

Theme: Little bit of everything/???

Warnings: Language, panic attacks, anxiety references, drug references

Word Count: 3k

A/N: Fic 2 of 2! This is the longest fic yet! Took a different approach to writing this one, hopefully it payed off. Let me know if you guys liked it or if I wasted my time with this one lol.

     You had met Duff in a coffee shop in LA. It was crowded and you were lucky enough to snag a chair before the lunch rush. Duff wasn't, and asked you if he could sit at your table.

     You grew up with Guns n Roses, bought his solo album the day it came out when you were just 15, and now listened to Velvet Revolver faithfully. To see your idol, your celebrity crush stand right in front of you holding a cup of coffee and a scone sent you for a loop.

     "Of course," you had said, starry eyed. You were only hoping he was as kind as the interviews made him out to be. Maybe have a conversation with you and be polite for a while before leaving and never seeing each you again. That would be good enough.

     It didn't end with a coffee, it had just begun. He asked for your number, and you stared at him for a moment thinking you had imagined it. That was until he tilted his head a little and looked at you with a nervous expression. He backtracked and you immediately stopped him.

     "No! I mean— yes! Yes, you can absolutely have my number." You scrambled for a pen and paper and ended up scratching your number on a receipt from the record store. You shook so hard you could barely get the numbers down.

     Out of all the record store receipts you've stuffed into your bag, the one you gave Duff Mckagan had to be the one for when you bought Velvet Revolver's 'Contraband.' He didn't say anything, just smiled and promised to call.

     You honestly didn't think he would've. You played it off as just him trying to be nice. It didn't stop you from answering every call you got for the next three days, however, even if you recognized the number as the tax collector you'd normally never answer.

     But then he called.

     "I tried calling sooner, but I kept calling the wrong number. You don't have the most eligible handwriting," he had told you. You laughed but really, you were in shock.

     You set up a date at the fancy restaurant downtown that always intimidated you. You didn't say anything though, even though you knew you wouldn't want any of the overpriced food and you'd end up eating something you couldn't pronounce and was two portions too small. Maybe even hit up a fast food joint afterwards.

     When the day finally came, you couldn't even figure out what to wear. You couldn't tell if you looked underdressed or like you were trying too hard. Did the clothes even fit the right way? What would Duff think? Would he even care?

     All questions were answered when you left your house. Duff was leaning against his slick car parked in your driveway, a button up that was barely buttoned and dress pants with boots. He stared at you and you wanted a hole in the ground to shallow you up until he smiles.

     "You look gorgeous," he said. You blushed and grinned, thanking him before saying that he looked great too. He drove you to the restaurant and on the way, you talked about music.

     You shared some of your favorites, he adored how well rounded you were. You liked pretty much everything from punk rock to the mellowest of mellow. Duff mentioned some of his favorites, some you made sure to remember the names of so you can check them out.

     When the ride was over and you finally got to the restaurant, your previous fears came back. Duff reassured you looked better than 90% of the people there and you knew it wasn't true but it made you feel better anyway.

     Your eyes widened to the size of saucers when you saw the prices of the food. You knew it'd be pricey but you thought there'd be more options that stayed within two digit numbers.

     Duff saw your panicked expression and said not to worry, he'd pay. It didn't settle your nerves enough and when the waiter came, you ordered the cheapest and simplest thing you could find.

     "Chicken noodle soup?" He teased. You shyly looked down and shrugged. "This isn't your scene, is it?"

     "Not exactly, no."

     "Want me to be completely honest with you?" You nodded. "It's not mine either."

     That's all it took for you and Duff to scramble sheepishly out of the restaurant. You both shared a laugh in the car and went to Burger King. It was much more your speed and, as you'd find out that night, Duff's too. You suppose all the money he's had since such a young age didn't completely change his ways. He was like a kid trapped in a 40 year old man's body.

     You'd thought at first the age gap would feel strange, after all, you were 15 years younger than him. But after that night, it was barely noticeable. Funny looks from strangers every once in a while was nothing.

     By the second date, Duff was already aware fancy spots weren't your forte. He told you it was a surprise and to wear something cozy, as LA nights got chilly.

     He packed a picnic basket and drove you out to the most beautiful flower field you had ever seen at sunset. It was secluded and high up, giving a perfect view of the city skyline. After gawking and taking in the sights for a few moments, you regained your ability to speak.

     "It's gorgeous. Pretty far from the city, did you take me here to kill me?" You joked. He laughed and rolled his eyes. His lighthearted laugh sent sparks straight to your heart, and you decided that it was your favorite sound.

     You unfolded the blanket Duff brought and you both sat down. You ate the sandwiches and sliced fruit Duff packed and talked. You talked about everything, from your family to fears and insecurities.

You told him how you suffer from nightmares. Flashbacks from your broken childhood coming back to bite you in your sleep. Duff shared how he's suffered from panic attacks since he was a teenager. You felt you knew each other for years.

Neither of you felt weird for sharing and neither made the other insecure. You were completely open and honest with each other. It was strange, you've never connected to quickly and effortlessly with someone before. Sure, you've had men in your life, but never had you clicked with someone so fast, never had you fit with someone so perfectly.

Hours passed and it felt like minutes. Only did you realize how late and how exhausted you were when you saw most of the city buildings light have gone off for the night. The city that didn't sleep was dark.

"I should get you home," Duff said to you.

"Will you stay the night?" You felt a little silly for asking. Were things going too fast? Would he even want to stay over?

He agreed, and that's how your first night together went. You both stayed up even later and had more lighthearted conversations, unlike the ones that partook at the field. Like how one of Duff's first jobs was at a bakery and could bake a mean cake and how you can't cook to save your life.

You ended up waking up without remembering falling asleep. You're head was placed comfortably on Duff's lap while his head was lolled back against the couch cushion. He looked so serene and peaceful you couldn't help but smile at the sight.

You made toast and somewhat successfully cooked some eggs and bacon. It might have been the first breakfast in years that didn't end with the smoke alarm going off.

Duff eventually wandered into the kitchen and you both ate. By the time he left, another date was already set up. He was like a drug an you were already hooked.

Months later and the addiction still wasn't kicked. You didn't want to, and Duff didn't seem to want you to quit either. You both soaked each other up like the sun on a warm day.

You had almost weekly dates and you stayed over each other's houses almost every other day. Duff did have his kids some days, though, so some days dates were cut short or Grace and Mae slept over his house and you wouldn't see each other.

You were always understanding, his kids came first and you'd never blame or get upset about it. It's something Duff admires about you, your never ending understanding and empathy for him.

One of those days where Duff stayed over at your house started normal. He cooked dinner and you washed the dishes, and then you put on an old Ramones concert you had on DVD.

You were laying on his chest, his fingers running through your hair when all of a sudden, he tensed up. He quickly stood and excused himself to the bathroom. You frowned but before you could think much of it, you heard a loud bang and something clatter to the ground.

You jumped up and rushed to the bathroom. You swung open the door because you were perfectly aware the lock hasn't worked since you moved in.

Duff was sitting on the floor, a pill bottle laying on its side not far from him. You quickly spot the name of the medication and identified it as your anti-anxiety pills. You shoved them aside and sat next to Duff.

He was sweating bullets and his skin felt cold and clammy, his breaths were labored and heartbeat was loud and pounding erratically. You coax him gently to take deep breaths, holding onto his hand tightly and talking quietly.

"I'm sorry, they come on randomly sometimes," he apologized after he'd called down, but you quickly shushed him. You reminded him of just how many nightmares he'd comforted you for and he stops feeling so bad about it.

     It was always a true partnership with Duff. Never had you felt you gave or took too much, it was always equal. Always a two way street, with everything.

That wasn't the last panic attack you had to help him come down from. Later down the line you've gotten better at calming him down and learning his triggers, even though sometimes they really do come on suddenly without reason.

A year into the relationship was when you met Grace and Mae. They were young and didn't completely understand why their parents weren't together anymore, so it took them a while to warm up to you. Luckily, they eventually came around.

Duff and Susan met up regularly to discuss their kids and co-parent properly. And while you had all the reason to be jealous of your boyfriend with his ex wife, you never did. You had complete confidence in him, he was honest and loyal and you doubted he'd ever hurt you purposely.

That's why it destroyed you when he left you. Tears were shed from both parties as he gave his reasons for breaking up with you. His insecurities he tried his best to bury had come to light and nothing could change his mind.

You thought you were completely honest with each other, but you suppose his doubt in his relationship with you was the one thing he kept secret. He had somehow convinced himself you'd be better without him, between the constant touring and the baggage that came with him and his kids, he finally buckled under the weight and stress.

You had tried to convince him that he was worth it, but if Duff is one thing it's stubborn. The best relationship you'd ever have and the best year of your life went down the drain within the matter of one conversation.

You were down in the dumps for days. You barely left your bed and didn't ever leave your house. You were in a depression and couldn't get out. A few of your friends eventually found out what had happened and broke into your house and shoved you into the shower before taking you to your favorite Chinese restaurant.

You felt like a disaster. Your hair was ratted despite the shower and you refused to put real clothes on, instead wearing sweatpants and a shirt Duff had left behind. You were a mess.

The hole in the wall restaurant was never busy but always had the best food. You were almost happy your friends dragged you out of your home until you saw Duff sitting at a table, eating egg rolls and lo mein.

You've came here together all the time. The high sodium in the food always made him sick to his stomach and you'd always end up giving him nausea remedies and tea. He never changed his order though.

You locked eyes with him for a while. Dark bags were under his eyes and he looked more pale than usual. He looked as terrible as you felt. You weren't sure if you were spitefully glad he felt awful or if the despair on his face just made your heart break further.

When you couldn't take his intense jade stare anymore, you looked up at the menu. The next time you looked back he was gone, you weren't sure if he was really there at all or if you were finally losing your mind for good.

     Another week crawled by. You got better enough to continue working. You had to pick up extra time for calling out for a few days after the breakup. You wouldn't say things were going well, but you weren't crying in bed every day all day anymore.

     You had constant dreams about him. Some were nice, ones where he didn't leave and you were together, holding each other tightly. Most were nightmares, flashbacks of when he left. You didn't have him to comfort you anymore when you woke up soaked in sweat and tears, and that might've been the worst.

     Another week went by, and you were starting to get back into the swing of things. You still thought about him, even silly little things reminded you of him. Like when you would catch a sniff of freshly baked sweets like he'd bake you or certain songs playing on the radio. It also didn't help that you ran into people wearing Guns n Roses shirts on the daily.

     You also refused to get rid of anything he'd left behind. Tee shirts, guitar picks he left from when he'd play for you, or CDs from bands he introduced you to. Reminders of what you lost were scattered around your home but you couldn't bring yourself to do anything about it.

     Suddenly, it's been a month. You weren't over him, but you had a feeling you'd never be completely. He was something special, you can't forget things as special as your relationship with Duff.

     His items still weren't thrown out or returned, instead all packed in a box sitting in your closet. But you'd be lying if you said you would never reach into the box to grab a shirt to sleep in or a CD to listen to when you needed a reminder of the good times. You were making progress though.

     You decided to leave your house one evening. You were feeling especially terrible and wanted to take a walk to clear your head. You went to the coffee shop you had first met Duff in. Maybe it was a mistake to go and get a flood of memories but you couldn't stop yourself.

     You sat in a seat near the window and people watched, taking occasional sips of your drink. It was quiet except from the talk of the workers and the hum of the overhead speakers.

     There was a sudden squeak of a chair of hardwood floors and it broke you out of your daze. You snapped your gaze up to meet the very familiar green eyes you've been trying to forget.

     "Can we talk?" He asked, and you couldn't say 'no.' Duff sat across from you and started off by apologizing.

     He said he wanted to talk to you sooner, but was too afraid you wouldn't want anything to do with him. You rolled your eyes at that, if only he knew just how much you missed him.

     He then started from the beginning and explained why he made the decision to leave you. As it turns out, it was mostly because of stress. His bandmate Scott was having problems with drugs and the flashbacks from his GnR days frightened him. He was worried he would end up relapsing and he didn't want to drag you down with him.

     Combine that with all the troubles that came with dating a single father, and he couldn't take it anymore. He felt too guilty.

     It all seemed like ridiculous reasons to you. Even if he had made the mistake of falling off the wagon, you still would've stuck with him. And you didn't mind his kids at all, after nearly a year of knowing them and you were very close to them.

     "I love you, Duff. I wouldn't have left you over that, I'd help you through anything. And I love Grace and Mae, too," you told him.

     "I know, but I didn't want you to have to deal with all that baggage." You frowned at that. You reached your hand across the table and grasped his, squeezing it tenderly.

     "You're worth it."

     After that day, you and Duff started seeing each other again. It wasn't the same as before, but maybe even better.

     You were more transparent with each other. If one had a worry or problem, you'd go to the other. You talked everything through with him and he did the same. Even if it seemed insignificant, talking everything through never failed to make it better.

    You were happier and healthier than ever before. Sure, there were a roadblock or two, but they only made the relationship even stronger, and you wouldn't have changed a thing about it.

#classic rock imagine #guns n’ roses #guns n’ roses x reader #guns n’ roses imagine #80s #duff mckagan fluff #duff mckagan x reader #duff mckagan #duff mckagan imagine

[miraculouscontent]

I know that you said that it was an one shot, but I really love the idea of marinette stay in Paris with Luka and kagami and avoid all the NY drama! If you can, can you share more of it? Even if just a few little ideas it would be great! (I love your ideas!)

(the one-shot this anon is referring to)

Aw, thank you so much!

And sure, after some thought, I did really want to write a little more with them!

—————

While throwing away their now juice-less cups, Marinette made the realization of how different things seemed with Luka and Kagami. She had already experienced hanging out with both of them separately, but she'd never imagined having both of them with her at once. It wasn't as if she'd always dismissed or despised the idea, but the only time they'd interacted as a group had been with Adrien around, which had probably soured the whole thing and thus involuntarily caused her to never think about it.

With her friends, everything was typically high-energy. Juleka and Mylene weren't very involved in creating such an atmosphere, but Marinette herself, Rose, Alya, and kept things energized. It wasn't a bad thing in general, but it made Marinette wonder if maybe surrounding herself with people who only encouraged her excitable habits wasn't a good thing.

Meanwhile, Luka and Kagami were completely different, both from her and her friends. Neither were particularly loud - though both could be when they wanted to - and they weren't really the kind to tease or mess with her either. Luka wasn't quiet in the way Juleka was, just seeming to absorb the world around him, whereas Kagami only spoke when she felt that there was something of value to say. Marinette had worried briefly that she might've been too different from the both of them, or that she'd overwhelm them due to speaking up the most, but instead, there was a sense of balance. Luka smiled or chuckled reassuringly whenever she caught herself rambling, whereas Kagami would cut in with her own views that were often direct but nevertheless good in their intentions. Perhaps her personality rubbed off on them in a way she couldn't fully understand?

Still, it was nice.

As the three were deciding what to do next, Marinette's phone suddenly went off. Marinette looked at her purse and pulled out her phone, half-expecting a text from one of her classmates about her missing the bus, but it was actually a notification about where Andre the ice cream man was.

Kagami glanced over after noticing the look on Marinette's face. "You want to get ice cream?"

Marinette frowned, Kagami's voice reminding her of the day the two of them had gone for ice cream with Adrien. She still remembered talking to Andre, hoping beyond hope that maybe the man wouldn't make them pick between the three different flavors. His words still stung a little, not because of Adrien, but because of what the words meant.

"Too many flavors mixed together may throw off the delicate balance."

It implied that one of them would always be the third wheel if they were together, no matter what, and it was a hollow feeling that she'd only recently started to accept.

"Marinette?"

Feeling a comforting hand on her shoulder, she looked over and noted Luka offering her a concerned expression. It grounded her, serving as a reminders that things were different now and that Adrien wasn't there which, in a strange way, brought her an immense sense of comfort.

"I'm fine," she assured. Turning her attention back to her phone, she deleted the notification and then made sure that she wouldn't be getting another one. "Ice cream sounds good, if you want it too, but... I think I've got a better idea than Andre's."

Luka and Kagami exchanged curious glances.

—————

"Here's to Neapolitan ice cream!" Marinette declared dramatically, raising her spoon up with flair before shoving it and the ice cream on it right into her mouth.

Luka snorted in amusement while Kagami gave an acknowledging nod, probably remembering the exact phrase from Andre that Marinette had recalled earlier.

They'd picked up the carton of ice cream on the way to Marinette's place, with Marinette insisting on paying in order to spoil them, and while they seemed confused on the specifics of her insistence, they gave in soon enough. Marinette could understand why she'd be the expected person to be comforted, but giving to others made her happy on its own and she felt they deserved it. After all, Luka had tried his hardest to catch up to the bus and Kagami was still dealing with Adrien wanting to leave for New York despite her being in Paris.

They'd ultimately decided on splitting the entire carton between the three of them, with each of them getting a majority of the one of the flavors and then the rest of that flavor going to the other two. Marinette had gone with chocolate, Kagami had gone with vanilla, and Luka had gone with strawberry. It might've seemed like a weird choice to go with since they'd just had orange juice, but it hadn't been much and it wasn't exactly a "treat."

Marinette may have considered suggesting ice skating instead if her first thought of it wasn't her slipping and bringing Luka and Kagami down to the ice with her. Ice cream was the safer alternative to "cold fun."

"Luka," she called thoughtfully, taking another bite before asking, "you're not feeling sore or anything, are you?"

He met her gaze, smiling at the concern but waving his hand dismissively. "I'm alright, Marinette. I'm used to biking around for hours because of my job, so it wasn't a big deal."

Kagami halted, spoon halfway in her mouth while her brows rose noticeably. She finished the scoop, then turned to look at Luka. "You have a job?"

He nodded. "Yeah. I deliver pizza." He grinned, clearly amused by her reaction. "Are you surprised?"

Kagami's expression didn't shift, but Marinette had known her long enough to see that she was embarrassed. "Oh, no. It's... I don't have one."

"There's nothing wrong with that." Luka shrugged. "I just have the time to do it."

"Mm." Kagami looked back at her ice cream, poking at the surface with her spoon. "I suppose it would be too difficult with my fencing lessons."

Marinette giggled sheepishly, happy to join in on the conversation. "I probably wouldn't be able to either. There's all my fashion work with my website, and then there's the unexpected babysitting, the bakery, and I'm also the class representative." She hurriedly added an, "I know it doesn't sound like much, but I'm bad at planning," when she felt that it seemed like such little things. She was Ladybug and the new guardian too, of course, but she couldn't be blurting that out, so she could only hope that it didn't seem like she was whining over nothing.

She averted her gaze, scooping up a self-conscious bite of her ice cream and shoving it into her mouth. She was partway through savoring it when she realized that neither Luka nor Kagami had responded to her. Daring a look back, she saw them staring at her with varying gazes.

Kagami seemed stunned, commenting, "That is... well, much, actually," referring to what Marinette had just tried to brush off.

Was it? Marinette had never really thought about it. In fact, she distinctly remembered back in the day where people might've thought she was just scatterbrained and didn't really do anything. Back when she was hesitant to be class representative and claimed that she was busy, Alya had asked her with a hint of snark what she was busy with, like she expected her to have a free schedule.

Even beyond her role of Ladybug at the time, she still had random babysitting to do and still frequently worked on her fashion projects. Thinking back, it stung just a little.

As Marinette glanced at Luka, she at first felt that the amount of sympathy he was directing at her was excessive, but then she remembered how she had cried in front of him to the point where he'd dropped his bike and guitar in order to comfort her. She blushed, both in shame and from the memory of him holding her so closely.

"Ah—well—it's okay!" she said hurriedly, "Anyway, forget about me! This day is about... um, this ice cream, and ice cream doesn't have problems that you should worry about!"

She nearly gave herself brainfreeze from how quickly she scooped up and ate the next bite, but figured it'd be worth it if they dropped the subject.

It wasn't worth it.

"You should be more careful," Kagami commented critically, an edge to her voice that Marinette knew wasn't meant to be anger at her. "You're my friend, so don't overwork yourself."

Marinette grinned nervously, still trying to lighten the mood. "A-are you saying it'd be alright to overwork myself if I wasn't your friend?"

Kagami's gaze didn't waver, and Marinette slowly tried to sink into her seat.

Luka set his spoon down on the bowl, then chimed in, "I don't know anything about fashion, Marinette, but if you ever need any help with anything—"

Kagami clicked her own spoon against her bowl to interrupt him, as if she felt personally slighted that he'd gotten to say it first. "We're here for you."

Luka nodded to confirm.

"Oh." Marinette blushed deeper, touched by the gesture from both of them. She thought about trying to reassure them again, but their gazes were firm and showed no room for argument, so she settled for a soft, "Thanks."

They resumed eating their ice cream from there, the topic officially concluded. Though the atmosphere felt noticeably different, Marinette was surprised to realize that it wasn't exactly in a bad way. She feared that she'd ruined the mood, but instead felt like she was supported, with Kagami and Luka looking satisfied with their choice in offering help to her.

It was like she was Ladybug, and they were the partners standing at her side, each with their own form of support. It made her smile, allowing her to happily eat away at her ice cream without thinking about anything stressful.

The idea of going to New York was suddenly very unappetizing in comparison to having ice cream with Luka and Kagami.

—————

All things considered, Ladybug wasn't concerned about telling Chat Noir that her plans had changed and she wasn't going anywhere after all. She imagined that Chat would be overjoyed and wouldn't even ask questions about it, just happy to have her back. She found his affection eyeroll-worthy, but he was still her teammate, so she just steeled herself up for whatever ramble he was about to give her.

However, as she waited near the top of the Eiffel Tower, sitting on the guardrail and looking around for Chat Noir, she realized that she couldn't even see him. Checking the time on her yoyo, she confirmed that it was indeed time for their usual patrol, but Chat Noir was completely absent. Even though it was nighttime, which made the black cat's suit blend in with the sky, he still had the blond hair and light skin that should've made him noticeable.

Ladybug got up and paced around the area a few times, constantly peeking down at the city as she wondered if maybe she just wasn't looking in the right spot. When she still saw nothing, she concluded that Chat Noir must just be running late and she'd simply have to wait a little longer. Things happened, after all, she knew that better than anyone, so she began idling on her yoyo, searching for something to keep her occupied while she waited.

They were a team. While their identities had to remain a secret, Chat Noir had always hated it and prioritized openness in their relationship, so he would've told her if something had come up. He was also active in going on patrols, always seeming eager to join her for their runs across the rooftops, and given that he didn't even know that she'd still be in Paris, patrols were even more crucial.

He never showed up.

#MC's Writing #writing: story #Lukagaminette #relationship: Kagami Tsurugi & Luka Couffaine & Marinette Dupain Cheng #other: ask and answer #category: long post #word count: over 2000 #Pro LukaMari #Lukanette

[tchallasbabymama]

Instinct

Hello, fellow whores. You asked for it and I hope I delivered. I present to you: T’Challa in heat❤️‍🔥! This one had me blushing, y’all.

The next request I work on will either be sugar daddy silver fox T’Challa or Star-Lord T’Challa. I know I just threw the latter in the lineup, but apparently, people are seriously feeling the lack of Star-Lord T content here and I want to do what I can to help fill the void.

Check out my masterlist to read my other stories and oneshots, and, as always, comments and reblogs are my lifeblood! Enjoy😘

Word count: 4,903

CW: SMUT, infidelity

Instinct [instiNG(k)t] noun: an innate, typically fixed pattern of behavior in animals in response to certain stimuli.

For centuries, the descendants of the great Bashenga retained their hold on the Wakandan throne. Challenge Day after Challenge Day, they beat their opponents and were rewarded by Bast allowing them to ingest the heart-shaped herb. The herb imbued them with a panther’s strength, speed, and instincts, effectively turning each of them from an ordinary man into the Black Panther. Now, strength and speed are pretty self-explanatory, but what exactly were their instincts?

When T’Challa was crowned king and ingested the heart-shaped herb, he visited the ancestral plane and reconnected with his baba. Their reunion was one full of tears, but most importantly, T’Chaka took the time to impart his wisdom to his son. T’Challa spent hours talking to his baba about life, what to expect as king, and, most importantly, what to expect as the Black Panther.

T’Chaka had warned him about what was to come, but until it happened to him months later, T’Challa was in denial. It couldn’t be that bad, right?

Wrong. When T’Challa woke up one sunny Wednesday morning, he felt strange. He felt feverish but not sick. Like most days, his morning wood stood at attention, tenting the crisp white sheets that laid across his lower half. He looked at the clock and saw that he had plenty of time to take care of himself, so he rolled to his side and reached for the tub of shea butter in his nightstand. T’Challa bit his lip as he rubbed his hands together to melt it down, but when he reached down to stroke his length, he nearly bit clean through it. He was much more sensitive than usual, and he wondered why...then it hit him. He jumped up and grabbed his kimoyo beads with his slippery hands, and he frantically opened his calendar.

“Twelve weeks,” T’Challa groaned as he counted backward to the night he became the Black Panther (the second time.) “Fuckkkk.”

He was in heat, and it was only going to get worse. T’Challa wracked his brain for ideas on what to do to fix his problem, but all he could hear was T’Chaka’s words echoing through his head.

“You should find a partner sooner rather than later. The instinct will take over you, and it will become unbearable if you do not have anyone to aid you.”

T’Challa had been so busy trying to rebuild the kingdom that his cousin damn near broke that he had forgotten to look for someone. Sure, there was Nakia, but she had moved to Oakland and their relationship quickly fizzled out. Then, there was that one Dora Milaje after he regained the throne, but that was a one-night thing and she went back to her wife the next morning. He needed to find someone, but who?

As the king’s mind wandered through his options, sweat beads began to form on his chiseled body. He knew he’d be no good today, so T’Challa typed up a message to his family and staff that he would be taking the day off. With that taken care of, all he needed to do was figure out how to get through this heat in one piece. T’Challa looked down at his dick again. It was swollen with need, and he watched as droplets of precum escaped from his tip. He couldn’t take it anymore and decided to bear through the sensitivity. Carefully, as though he might hurt himself, he reached his hand down and grabbed it in his hand. The whimper he let out was foreign to his ears, but it was all he could do when he felt the intense wave of arousal wash over him. He gritted his teeth as he began to slowly move his hand up and down his shaft. It seemed that everywhere his hand went, it left a deep burning sensation in its wake, but he just couldn’t stop. He rutted into his hand, and as soon as his thumb swiped over his reddened tip, he came undone quicker than he ever had before. His body jerked as the milky white substance spilled over his hand, and it seemed that he had plenty to give. However, instead of leaving him sated, all that did was arouse him more.

T’Challa had made a mess all over himself and decided to take a shower, but every touch of his hand, or even the water, drove him up the walls. He needed some pussy, fast. He exited the shower and allowed his body to air dry as he moisturized his mahogany skin. Minutes passed before he noticed that he was still massaging himself, too caught up in the sensation to notice the passage of time. His dick was rock hard again, and he groaned in frustration as he attempted to stuff it into silk lounge pants. He called for his breakfast to be brought to him and spent the day in his quarters, alternating between desperately jacking off and going through his contacts to find the right person. It had been so long since he had opened that figurative little black book that all of his usuals were taken, and unfortunately for him, they were hellbent on remaining faithful for some reason. As the day went on, his hunger grew in intensity, and it got to the point where neither his hand nor his sex toys could cut it anymore. He felt lost, he felt horny beyond belief, and he felt...famished.

T’Challa looked at the time again and realized that he hadn’t eaten in hours. He placed another order from the kitchen and waited impatiently for it to arrive. It wasn’t that he couldn’t wait for the food to be brought up; he was impatient because every moment that passed without him touching himself brought him more pain. He didn’t need the poor kitchen staff walking in on him feverishly pleasuring himself, so he just sat there and attempted to focus his mind elsewhere. Eventually, there was a knock at the door, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

“Room service,” a melodic voice called out, and T’Challa smiled to himself at his friend’s playful tone. It was Xoliswa. He hadn’t seen her in almost a week, and he was sure she was out of town, yet here she was bringing him his dinner. Xoliswa started working in the kitchen at the palace seven years ago, and they grew close over the years. He was even in her wedding.

T’Challa unlocked the door with his beads, and she came right on in with the cart full of more food than he usually ordered.

“Somebody’s hungry today,” she joked. Just as T’Challa was about to respond with some smartass remark, an aroma hit him square in the face. It definitely wasn’t coming from the heaping portions of doro wot and rum cake he ordered. It was sickly sweet and made the hairs on the back of his neck stand at attention, as well as something else.

The king began to salivate. “New perfume?”

“No, just the usual,” Xoliswa sighed. “Why?”

“No reason. You just smell different today is all,” he gulped to keep from drooling at her smooth, brown legs that were always on display. His eyes traveled up to the curve of her hips and the thickness of her waist before grazing over her delicious-looking chest and landing on her plump lips. Of course, he had noticed her looks before, and they would playfully banter and flirt back and forth from time to time, but this was the first time he was really seeing her beauty. Not only could he see it, but he could smell her from across the room, and his body was reacting in ways he couldn’t control. His dick sprung up and immediately started to harden as he watched her ass bounce in her flowy shorts when she pushed the cart out to the balcony. She had gone too far away, and he felt the intense need to be closer to her, so he bolted up and made his way outside with her.

“Here, let me help you.” T’Challa quickly picked up the heavy tray before she could and placed it on the table before taking his usual seat.

“I thought you didn’t feel good today,” she crossed her arms over her chest, unintentionally pushing her ample breasts even closer together. His body burned at the sight, and he visualized his lips wrapped around her undoubtedly perky nipples. He needed her body on his, but he knew he shouldn’t. Xoliswa was a friend, a confidant, a married woman...

“I don’t,” T’Challa cleared his throat and tried to focus his mind on anything but her. It wasn’t working, though. “But, uh, it’s not what you think. I just needed a day, that’s all.”

“Want to talk about it?” Xoliswa asked as she leaned against the balcony. He was acting strange, and it concerned her. “You know I’m here for you if you need me.”

“Don’t say that,” he chuckled darkly as something flared inside him.

“Why not?” she tilted her head to the side and uncrossed her arms. He would’ve sighed in relief, but she just made it worse by stepping closer to him. Xoliswa placed her hands on his shoulders the way she always did and began kneading his bare flesh. Little did he know, he wasn’t the only one fighting back their arousal. Xoliswa had a small crush on T’Challa since the moment she laid eyes on his muscular frame. Had she not been in a relationship the entire time she’d known him, she would’ve dropped down on her knees and given him the business by now. However, Xoliswa loved her husband and wouldn’t dream of doing such a thing...except for the occasional nights where she closes her eyes and all she can see is him. All she can feel is the king.

T’Challa let out a low groan as her hands worked out his stress, and as usual, the sound made Xoliswa flood the panties that had gotten wedged between her fat pussy lips. The scent of her arousal traveled straight to his nostrils, and his pupils blew wide. He jumped up and crossed the balcony in just a few quick strides, needing to get away from her before he truly lost himself to his lust.

“Seriously, what’s up with you today?!”

“N-nothing, you just...you smell so good, and- Xo, I can’t.”

“Can’t what?” Xoliswa narrowed her eyes as she tried to figure out what could possibly be wrong with him...but then her eyes fell to the large dickprint in his silk pants. She had seen him in those and similar pants several times before, and although they always left little to the imagination, she had never seen him in his full Bast-given glory. But this time? This time she could almost make out every vein through the soft fabric, which made her pussy spasm with need and release more wetness.

T’Challa could see that Xoliswa was staring right at his dick, and he knew she liked what she saw by the whiff of sweet honey that wafted his way. A low rumbling started in his chest like an engine revving as the burning need in his loins intensified.

Xoliswa spoke barely above a whisper, stunned but in awe of the man before her, “Why are you-”

“My heat,” he sighed.

“Your what?”

“My heat!” T’Challa snarled, and she nearly jumped out of her skin. Any other time, he would assume he had scared her, but he knew better now. He could hear her heartbeat, he could smell her dripping pussy, and he could see her hardened nipples and the way her luscious thighs rubbed together in a feeble attempt to quell the throbbing between her legs.

“W-what’s that?”

T’Challa gestured for her to take a seat, and she lowered herself into the chair across from his, squirming in her pooled fluids. Her obedience just made him harder, if that was at all possible. He gingerly sat down across from her and just stared for a moment, her breathing getting shallower with each inhale.

“One of my newly acquired panther instincts requires me to, uh, mate every three months.”

“So...you basically ovulate four times a year,” Xoliswa joked in an attempt to break the tension, but he began to growl at her again, causing them both to shudder at the other’s arousal.

“It’s more than being a little horny and fertile, Xo. I have to- no, I need to find a release, or I’ll go crazy. My whole body is on fire, and masturbating just makes it worse. I’ve been in here all day-”

“You’ve been in here jacking off all day?”

“Yes.”

“And it’s not helping?”

“Not at all.”

“Have you tried-”

“Yes. Whatever it is, I’ve tried it. Trust me.”

Silence descended upon the pair as they both stared at each other, stuck in a lustful feedback loop, chests heaving and mouths watering. Xoliswa was the first to break, so she stood and headed for the door. She had to get out of there, the atmosphere was too thick, and she couldn’t think straight with him staring at her like a piece of meat. She couldn't stand to look at him any longer or she might do something she’d regret later, but when he grabbed her wrist and looked up at her with those pitch-black eyes, she knew she was in trouble.

“Xoliswa, please,” he begged. He knew he had no business asking that of her, but he was desperate, and she just looked so damn delicious.

She bit her lip as her eyes traveled back down to his bulge that had started leaking through the fabric of his pants.

“Shit…”

“You like what you see?” his voice was lower than she’d ever heard. It seemed like everything he did turned her on more and more. T’Challa took a deep inhale so he could know for sure, and his head swarmed with the smell of her. “Yeah, you like it. I can smell that sweet pussy; it’s dripping for me, Xo.”

He had never spoken to her like that before, and every word lured her further into his trap. She had a brief moment of clarity and pulled her wrist from his grasp, taking a step back.

“T-T’Challa, I’m married-”

“Tell your body that, then,” he grumbled as he stood and stalked closer to her. She backed up with every step he took until she was wedged between his body and the doorframe. His arms went up on either side of her, and he leaned in close enough for her to feel his breath tickle her lips. “Tell me right now: do you want me?”

Her eyes darted around, desperate to look at anything but the coal irises that would surely draw her in. “I-I-”

“Say it, Xo. I want you so fucking bad,” T’Challa growled with his face buried in her neck, imprinting her scent deep in his brain. He knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t help but take a little bite. As soon as his teeth made contact with her skin, she let out a light moan and set his body into overdrive. He pressed his hips into her, and the heat of her skin made him whimper. The noise shocked her, and she realized just how much he needed her...as if the ten inches of clothed steel pressing into her stomach wasn’t enough of a sign.

Xoliswa had secretly wanted this for a long time. In her dreams, he’d fuck her good and deep and leave her a sobbing, leaking mess. Truthfully, if he had ever come onto her before this, she probably would have caved then, too, but she thought he was too gentlemanly to do so and pushed the dirty fantasy to the back of her mind. Boy, was she wrong. Right now, T’Challa couldn’t give a shit about chivalry and certainly didn’t care about her husband. Right now, all he wanted- no, all he needed was her body.

She pulled his curls to remove him from her neck, and he growled again at the titillating pain and the loss of contact.

“You want me?” she whispered, her lips mere centimeters from his.

“Mmm, more than anything.”

Xoliswa’s hand traveled down his body, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. T’Challa’s lip found its way between his teeth again as he struggled to maintain composure, but it all flew out the window when he felt her hand wrap around his throbbing length.

“Fuck! Xo, stop playing and-”

“You need me?” she teased as she pulled his pants down over his hips and let them pool at his feet. She wrapped both of her hands around his girth and stroked him softly. He was so sensitive that he jerked away from her hand, but she grabbed him and pulled him back in. Xoliswa had dreamed of this day, so why not make her dream come true?

Suddenly, T’Challa’s self-control went out of the window as he thrust into her hands and wrapped one of his much larger hands around her throat. She stared back at him with lust clouding her eyes as he met her lips for a hungry kiss. The taste of her on his tongue drove him wild, and she felt his dick begin to twitch. She picked up her pace and gripped him a little tighter, making him stick his tongue further down her throat. She melted into him. The firm grip he had on her made her knees weak, and just as they began to buckle, he pulled his lips from hers and said the three magic words he had uttered so many times in her dreams.

“On your knees.”

Xoliswa fell to the ground and looked up at him with her mouth opened wide for him to use. And use it, he did. T’Challa was surprised she could take all of him without any training, but he guessed her husband might have been around his size.

Her husband. He had a married woman on her knees, slobbering up and down his shaft. He had Xoliswa on her knees…

Just the thought of how wrong this was turned him on even more, and as if the same thought had occurred to her, Xoliswa started sucking harder. The spit foaming in the corners of her mouth and running down her chin soaked her chest, and the king longed to see more. He reached down and ripped her shirt down the middle, freeing her breasts from the confines of modern clothing. T’Challa grinned when he saw that not only was she not wearing a bra, but her nipples stood erect like two Hershey’s kisses ready for him to devour. Just the way he liked.

Xoliswa didn’t care that he had ruined her shirt; all she cared about was making her king cum. She wanted to taste him and swallow everything he had to give, so she grew impatient and turned it up a notch, fondling his balls in her hands as she sucked on him. Her tongue swirled around his tip, and he gripped her locs in his fist to hold her down on him as he exploded into her mouth. Splashes of him coated her throat, and she swallowed every last drop he gifted to her. She blinked up at him with those innocent-looking eyes as she sucked him like a straw, milking him for all he’s worth. Normally, he would get overstimulated at this point, but that seemed impossible. Xoliswa gave him the best head he’s had in a long time, but it still wasn’t enough to sate him.

T’Challa pulled her head off him, and the bridge of spit that connected them was a sight to see. He reached down and lifted her to her feet, kissing her once more to taste his saltiness on her tongue.

“You still...want...this pussy?” Xoliswa asked between kisses.

“Mmmmhmmm,” he grunted as he pushed up on her again.

Xoliswa pushed him away, and he looked at her like she had betrayed him. His face relaxed when he noticed the feral look in her eyes and the way her pheromones filled the air.

“Take what you need.”

T’Challa saw red, and the next thing he knew, he was buried deep inside her as he pounded her into the mattress. The arch in her back deepened as he fucked her rougher than her husband could have ever dreamed of. Xoliswa struggled to see as she reached for the sheets to hold onto, but he wouldn’t let her. T’Challa pinned her hands behind her back and continued to plow into her as she screamed.

“Fuck, yes! Just like that, baby! Ooooh, T’Challa-”

“You like that?”

“Yes!”

“Then take it. Fucking take it!” he roared as he released inside her, but neither was ready to stop. Xoliswa loved how his cum felt dripping out of her, making her pussy even wetter than it already was. Keeping it juicy for him to do whatever he needed to do to her body.

“This tight fucking pussy, Xo,” he groaned as he slowed down and grinded into her, stirring her insides. His heavy hand came down on her ass, and she let out the most adorable squeak. He smiled and did it again and again, her pussy tightening around him with every strike until she couldn’t take it anymore. Xoliswa’s body convulsed as she came all over the king’s dick.

“T’Challaaaa!” she wailed, and he stopped to massage her cheeks.

“Too much?”

She looked back at him and smiled mischievously with a glint in her eye. “No, my king.”

“I’m your king?” he teased while rubbing her clit, making her hips circle on his dick as he stood still and let her work.

“Yessss,” she whined.

“Then cum for your king one more time. I have another load for you,” he whispered in her ear with his teeth firmly gripping the lobe. His fingers tickled the underside of her clit, and she bucked her hips. “That’s your spot, huh?”

“Y-yes, my king!”

He alternated between circling her clit and strumming the underside for barely a few moments before her pussy began to grip him again. T’Challa leaned back and watched the way her pussy spasmed on him. He couldn’t hold out and exploded inside her once more.

“Mmmm, baby, I love when you do that.”

“You love when I cum in this pussy?”

“Mmmhm,” her voice grew higher in pitch the more she felt him twitch inside her.

“Good, because I’m not done with you yet.”

T’Challa pulled out slowly, and she moaned as his bulbous head dragged across her g-spot. He flipped her over with ease and slid right back into her slippery canal. She loved how full he made her feel, how he stretched her walls and beat the breaks off her pussy. But this? This felt so good.

His hips moved slowly as he stroked deep into her and gazed into her eyes.

“I just need one more, babygirl. One more, and I think I’ll be good, ok?”

“Whatever you need, my king,” Xoliswa whispered against his lips and pulled him into an open-mouthed kiss. She wrapped her legs tightly around his waist, and he chuckled darkly.

“You want me in there deep, don’t you?”

“As deep as you can go, baby.”

“You’re filthy. Does your husband know what a little slut you are?”

Xoliswa released all over him again.

“Oh, you like when I talk about him when I’m in these guts? You like being reminded of how naughty you are, don’t you?”

“Mhm,” Xoliswa nodded with tears threatening to fall from her eyes from how good it felt to have T’Challa inside her.

“Let me ask you something,” he leaned in close to her ear and thrust harder. “Does he fuck you like I do?”

Xoliswa frantically shook her head, “N-no!”

“Then you come to me whenever you need a taste of what a king can do for you.”

“Yes, baby!” she keened as he picked up the pace and dropped his weight on her.

“You know this pussy is mine, now, right? He can use it if you want him to, but this shit belongs to me. You’re fucking mine, Xoliswa.”

“T’Challa-”

“Mmmhm, say my name, babygirl. Tell them who owns this tight little pussy,” he punctuated those last three words with thrusts so deep she swore she could feel it in her ribs. “Who owns you?”

“T’Challaaaa!”

His eyes rolled back in his head at hearing his name fall from her lips. Her voice was shaky and hoarse, but she screamed his name over and over again as his hips pounded into hers, the curve of his dick angling just right to keep her creaming all over him.

“Fuck, baby, here it comes. You ready?”

Xoliswa looked him dead in the eye and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. “Cum in your pussy, Black Panther.”

He hadn’t expected her to call him that, but it lit something within him, and he came harder than he ever had before. He bit into her neck as he spasmed inside her, pumping her full of his essence. She came from the feeling of him releasing so much and putting it right where it belonged. Their bodies fed off each other, and when one would spasm, it would trigger the other to cum. T’Challa peppered sweet kisses all over Xoliswa’s face and spoke to her in hushed tones, “Thank you, babygirl.”

Xoliswa couldn’t speak; she could only moan incoherently. Minutes passed before their bodies began to tire of the constant state of arousal, and they slowly pulled apart. She whimpered as she felt their fluids escape her and drip slowly down her crack, and he could only watch in awe. He had never produced so much, and he wasn’t sure if it was because of Xoliswa or his heat or a combination of both. Whatever it was, he wasn’t ready to give it up just yet.

“Call Abdul. Tell him you have to work tonight,” he rasped, making a devilish smile appear on her face. She knew she was in for the night of her life, and just the thought of what was to come had her playing with her overstimulated clit. He swatted her hand away and replaced it with his own. “Call him. Now. Make sure your camera is off.”

T’Challa kissed from her neck down to her chocolate nipples and took a bite, making her yip at the sensation. “Be quiet, or he’ll catch you. You don’t want that, do you?”

“N-no, my king,” she stuttered out as she pressed Abdul’s contact card and called him.

“What’s up? Aren’t you supposed to be working? Or are you slacking off with T’Challa again,” he joked, and Xoliswa locked eyes with a smug T’Challa as his tongue swirled around her nipple.

“N-no, I’m at work,” she struggled to speak as T’Challa trailed his tongue down her body and suctioned his lips around her clit. She snapped her legs shut around his head, making him pry them open with a menacing growl.

“What was that?” Abdul asked.

“What was what?” Xoliswa chuckled nervously.

“I thought I heard something. Anyways, what’s up, sweetie?”

“I, uh-” she stopped herself and muted the call for a moment to let out a moan from the pits of her soul as T’Challa showed no mercy on her. His tongue masterfully maneuvered around her clit like he designed it himself, and the three slender fingers curling inside her coaxed another orgasm out of her.

“Take him off mute right fucking now,” T’Challa ordered with a mouth full of pussy.

“Hello? Xo?”

She scrambled to unmute the call and calm her breathing down as the king nibbled on her labia and sped his fingers up inside her.

“I’m here, baby. I-have-to-work-late-so-I’m-staying-at-the-palace-tonight!”

“Wait, slow down. I can barely understand you. Are you ok?”

“I’m ok,” she giggled as T’Challa nibbled on her inner thighs. “I’m staying here tonight.”

“Oh, no problem. Don’t let T’Challa work you too hard, ok?”

“I won’t!” she squeaked.

“Good. You get back to work, and I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Tell him you love him,” T’Challa whispered against her pussy lips, and Xoliswa couldn’t help but oblige.

“Abdul?”

“Yeah, sweetie?”

“I-I love you.”

“I love you too, Xo. Call me when you get off,” he blew her a kiss through the phone, and she hung up right as T’Challa started chuckling.

“You almost got us caught!” she fussed.

“You liked it. Don’t lie.”

Xoliswa bit her lip to hide her smile, but it didn’t work.

“Maybe a little.”

“Mmmhm. Nasty slut, letting me use you like this. You ought to be ashamed of yourself.”

Xoliswa’s pussy jumped, and T’Challa couldn’t help but smile at her.

“Maybe you should teach me a lesson,” Xoliswa moaned as she ground her hips on his fingers, and his dick hardened right back up. “Or punish me.”

“Fuck, Xo, where have you been all my life?” he groaned and pulled his fingers from her, lining the head of his dick up with her entrance.

“Married...to my husband,” Xoliswa teased. T’Challa’s nostrils flared, and she knew it was on.

She wouldn’t be getting any sleep that night.

Taglist: @maddeningmayhem, @theblulife, @motheroffae, @love-mesome-me, @toni9, @bribrisback, @impremenior, @nahimjustfeelingit-writes, @dersha89

#cecewritessometimes #oneshot #smut #t'challa fic #t'challa x oc #black!oc #Youtube

[venusguks]

Solace in Seoul

— Pairing : Jeon Jungkook x Fem!Reader (Reader x Kim Taehyung on the side)

— Summary : the falling apart of you and kim taehyung, and the coming together of you and jeon jungkook

— Genre/Warnings : plot driven, angst, smut, fluff, sugar daddy/baby relationship, student/teacher relationship w kth, bsfs2lvrs w jjk, unprotected sex, creampie, degredation, oral (f receiving), jk just wants to love you :(, jk is the absolute sweetest really, spit drinking?, praise ( TW : MENTIONS OF FAMILY ABUSE/BRUISES )

ACT 1. | 134340

The first time you talk to Jeon Jungkook again, your mind is elsewhere, absorbed in the lingering absence of Taehyung.

Spring's gentle breeze carried distant laughter and a faint melody from the music club two floors down. The sky carried drifting clouds, the ocean carried rising tides, and you — You carried the weight of the world on your shoulders.

Or at least it felt like it.

The piles of envelopes concerning last two months’ unpaid bills have been devouring your dinner table and heart alike. After receiving the countless of threatening voicemails from your landlord, you'd be naive not to expect a visit—but opening the door to Mrs. Joomi’s bitter scorn didn’t make you feel any less anxious. Juggling two part time jobs all the while maintaining A’s and B’s was nothing easy to accomplish. Hell, living wasn't even easy, and yet, it was like nothing you did was ever enough.

Grief was your composer and you were her violin—her cruel euphony reverberated through your tears when you sat on the cold kitchen floor last night, sifting between your savings that barely made up one month's rent. On top of your midnight breakdown, your dad decided to come home yesterday out of all days and, well, you know how that goes.

The door clicks open, interrupting you from your trance. You don’t need to turn around to know who it is.

Footsteps pad closer until Taehyung is right next to you. He stuffs his hands in his pockets and leans back against the metal railing, facing the opposite direction. It's quiet at first. You've noticed long ago that your relationship with him was one that was filled with silence. “Somethings bothering you,” He’s the first to break it. Neither of you take your gaze off the cerulean blue sky. “You could tell?”

“Of course I can, angel," his voice is cool, gentle, and it carries you away with the wind. "You dozed off through the whole lecture today."

Shame tinges your cheeks with the faintest pink, “oh... I’m sorry. I was paying attention, really, I was just—"

"Love," he saighs, "you have nothing to be sorry about. You could skip to sleep in the nurse's office for all I care. I'm just worried about you."

“What a good teacher you are,” you smile, a teasing one, but Taehyung chuckles dryly. “Trust me, if I was a good teacher, I wouldn’t be doing this," he sounds apathetic, but that doesn't stop you from frowning. You finally turn to look at him, his curls of deep brown swaying. “Taehyung... please don’t say that. You’re an amazing teacher, everyone knows it.”

You hoped he knew how genuine you were. God, you hoped to the moon he knew just how good he was. Taehyung may have already been admired for his captivating smile and his nonchalant energy, but everyone respected him for so much more. He was the type of teacher everyone wanted—the cause of counselor’s headaches every autumn for receiving heaps of transfer requests. Even parents and teachers fawned over him, baffled to see the passing rate in math tests accumulate over the years. It hurt that he didn't see that, and it hurt more knowing he didn't think he was respectable because of you.

The man tilts his head to look at you, smiling softly. “You know I’m only joking, doll.”

“Whether you're joking or not, I still... it just worries me when you talk like that,” you pause, "....do you really feel that way?" Do you really regret this?

Taehyung sighs, and the jeweled rings adorning his fingers are cold against your skin as he tucked loose strands of hair behind your ear. “Worrying is my job, angel, so tell me what's been on your mind instead."

If Taehyung noticed the hurt in your eyes, he chose to ignore it. He always did this. You got it, really, you did. There were boundaries for these sorts of relationships. One step closer would bring him one step back, which was why you never probed him any time he disregarded your questions. But a selfish part of you still felt it was a bit unfair, a bit painful to feel him slip away, to realize he was never there in the first place.

It was strange, how he made you feel. His thumb grazed your lips, his breath was light on your skin—if you concentrated hard enough, you swear you could hear his heart beat. He was only inches away.

So why did he feel so far?

Taehyung was your your lighthouse, your harbor, your shore. Through the snowy December nights where his fingers traced sensuous lines down your bare stomach, to the Spring showers of March where his cold lips brushed your inner thigh—Taehyung had always been your solace.

You knew tangling in sexual affairs with your teacher in return for sealed envelopes was wrong, but how could something so sinful feel so heavenly? The unspoken acts committed underneath draped curtains and moonlight's veil felt too dear to you to be called impure. By your sixth rendezvous, you started to wish the intimacy you shared with him could go beyond silk sheets and star speckled lust.

“I want you to confide in me too,” you said one night under the reluctant shadows of warmly lit candles. “I want to help you too, Taehyung. Please, let me help you.” You could tell he's been agitated the whole week, but you'd been too afraid to ask, afraid of him pushing you away. You didn't know where your courage came from then, all that you wished to be more than a distraction. “I don’t need you to help me," Taehyung growled, and you let out a muffled whimper when he rolled your clit with his tongue, your thighs trembling as you reached for his soft curls. "B-But I care a-about—ahn!" You arched your back as he inserted a finger inside of you, curling into your sweet spot with frightening accuracy. "Don’t need you any way else other than this, doll. Just be good and silent for me." That morning, you woke up to a bed void of the man you loved; a white envelope being the only remnant of that night.

You sighed as you recalled that memory, brushing your own fingers over his, tracing the metal bristles of his rings. “Its nothing."

“Don’t say that, angel. I know it’s not nothing."

“Really, Taehyung, i’m fine. Just stressed is all.”

“Stressed...as in financially?” Your sudden tenseness affirms his assumption, making him sigh. "You could've just told me earlier, angel. Tell me how much you need." A repulsing mixture of shame and self resentment brews in your chest, hardening like bitter dalgona. Dirty, despite money sparking your secret arrangement from the very beginning, that’s how you felt every time it was ever brought up. “Hey, look at me doll," as if reading your thoughts, Taehyung gently draws your face close to his with two hands cupping your cheeks, noses barely brushing. “Don’t ever feel guilty about this. Just treat it as an early birthday present, yeah?"

You couldn't help but frowning, your hands roaming the access of his collarbone. "You already do so much for me, Taehyung...I just...I-I feel bad." You failed to notice how rigid he became then, how his eyebrows dipped with evident frustration. "Y/n, you know that—"

Click!

Before you even realize it, you and Taehyung are off each other. When the blue, paint-scraped door opens, sleeked shoes and lively banter are welcomed by two students, diminishing with a glance at the both of you. "Ah, Mr. Kim, there you are! I was looking all over for you. What are you doing here?" A girl's eyes shift from you to the chestnut haired man. Taehyung easy recollects himself as he pats your shoulder, wearing a professional grin. "I stumbled into y/n here, was just giving her some advice but we’ve finished. What did you need me for?”

"Oh...well, about finals week..." You almost let out a sigh of relief as they continued their conversation, but your breath is instantly caught in your throat when your gaze flickers to the boy right next to her.

You were too startled by the sudden interruption that you haven’t completely processed his presence. You almost wish you hadn’t though, now that his doe, big brown eyes mirror your own.

Jungkook was unmoving, and you could've guessed he was conflicted—whether to say hi or to stay silent. Even if you were in the same grade, it was rare to see his face among the carbon copied uniforms. Class C—1 and C—4 were the furthest from each other, and with being the student council event coordinator, you were either neck deep in documents or tucked in the seclusions of the rooftop.

But due to the proud morning announcements and the hushed whispers of admiration, Jungkook never really strayed too far from your orbit. Referred to as the school's golden boy, Jungkook was loved by everyone. He was friends with members from the fashion department to the swim team to the gardening club—Hell, even the occult club. Teachers and students alike wore lenses of adoration for their school’s pride and joy while you tried your best to look away. He may have been in your orbit, but you were two different worlds, encapsulated by the universe but separated by light years of meteors and stars. Jungkook was a nameless planet to you, as you were to him. You never brought yourself to think about it—never had the time for anyway, so seeing him there, floating with the drifting clouds, even you felt a tad bit shaken.

“—kook...Jungkook, hey, Jungkook! I’m gonna go get my assignment with Mr. Kim. Come with?” He blinks profusely, averting his attention from you to the girl wearing raised brows. “Uh, no thank you. Breaks gonna end soon anyways, I think I’ll stay up here. See you after school though?”

“After school,” she clicks her tongue, waving before disappearing down the stairs. Taehyung lingers for a second longer, his eyes flickering to you. “Well I’ll see you next period, Jeon. Bye, y/n." With that, the door shuts behind them, welcoming an air of awkward silence.

Jungkook is the first to clear his throat, “hi, its been awhile," his earrings dangled with his every nervous movement, and you wondered when he'd gotten all his piercings. "Y-Yeah, its been awhile..." you repeat densely as you watch him take the spot Taehyung left, respecting a distance but not standing too far away. He rests his forearms on the metal railing, his elbow barely brushing yours. “Do you usually come up here?"

"Only during lunch."

He hums, "that explains why I never see you."

You frown, both in curiosity and confusion. "You look for me?"

“I-I don’t!” He sputters too quickly. “I just...its just an observation. We’re in the same year after all, and you’re never with the rest of the student council members.” Your brows raise in amusement, “that's surprising.”

“What is?”

“I didn’t think you remembered my name—honestly didn’t think you even remembered I existed.”

“Of course I remember,” he chuckles, “we’ve been friends for 17 years. How could I forget?”

“14 years,” you reminded softly, “we’ve been friends for 14 years.”

A star in Jungkook’s eyes must have died out when you smiled sadly at him. “Oh...right...” he rubs the nape of his neck, sighing. “This is strange, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” you agree, “strange.” And there it is again. Spring’s momentary silence. You watch as the sun slowly disappears behind sailing clouds. Talking to Jungkook, being alone next to him, was maybe even a little bit uncomfortable. After all, you guys had so much history—where do those film rolls of sun seeped memories go? It was as if they floated all around you, tying your fingers together like the red string of fate. After all those years of suppressing them, it was intoxicating, adamant to be remembered.

“This reminds me of middle school,” Jungkook brings your head back from the sky. “In 5th grade, the highest we could go was at the top of the garden shed. We spent all our breaks there, staring at clouds, complaining about Mr. Lim being too grouchy, or wondering where we'd go after school—what ice cream flavor we’d get at the convenience store. Do you remember?”

"Of course I do," despite yourself, your heart softens to the recollection. It was your secret hiding spot, blocked by the slant of the roof and the trees barricading the other side. The sky, wind, and Jungkook had been your only escape from the problem solving in math and the problem solving you had to do on your own when you were 10, wondering what the budget for that week's grocery would be. “We thought we were so cool, that we were on top of the world.”

“Correction, you thought you were so cool. You even promised to show me your own space ship, remember?”

“God, please don’t,” you groan, covering your face with your palms. You knew exactly where this was going, and you guessed Jungkook still knew exactly how to embarrass you. “You told me you were a space—“

“—adventurer!” You beamed a toothy grin, two hands proudly on your hips. Jungkook looked up at you with sparkling eyes, pupils as large as beloved full moons. “You mean...an astronaut?”

Your smile immediately drops into a disappointed frown. You demanded upmost reverence, so you didn’t really appreciate it when he questioned you. “No, no. Not an astronaut. A space adventure. s-p-a-c-e a-d-v-e-n-c-h-u-r-r. Gosh, Kookie. If you want me to bring you along in my journeys, you have to keep up.” Jungkook only nodded, trying his best to stifle a chuckle. He won the 3rd grade spelling bee, so he was at least 85% confident the word adventurer didn't have a 'ch' in it.

He decided to let it go though. He knew—the same way he knew that you’d certainly cry if he corrected you—that you were afraid of heights. If it took weeks to encourage you to finally climb a roof, he was the certain you wouldn’t be able to handle the height of the galaxy. But then again, he always had a soft spot for you. “I’m building a space ship right now actually! Its called the Bon Voyage. When it's finished, I’m going to Pluto. You won’t believe how big space is. There are strawberries there!"

Jungkook’s eyes widened at your silly declaration, and even then, he felt sad. He knew that being a space adventurer—being able to maneuver gravity and time on your own whims—was only an innocent imagination of escapism, but still. Every single time you’d flinch when a hand was brought up near you, every time you’d pull on your jacket despite it being hot, he wished your imagination could be real. Wished he could make it real for you—keep you safe from earth and all your troubles.

“I’d like to see the strawberries.. with you,” Jungkook smiled softly. You grinned, and it was the most precious thing Jungkook saw as you stuck your pinky finger out. “Then it’s settled, I’m taking you with me.”

“To pluto?” He wrapped his small finger with yours, and you sealed it with your thumbs pressed against each other's. “To pluto!”

Jungkook was in a fit of laughter, and despite burying your face further into your hands, you couldn't help but smile. “I can’t believe you knew I was lying. God, I must’ve looked like a total idiot.” His elbows were pressed against yours now, sending a surge of warmth to your heart at the familiar skin ship. Jungkook must have not noticed, for he only kept giggling, and you certainly wouldn't bring it up. “It was cute, really. The strawberries and everything. It was really cute.”

"Whatever, Jungkook," you rolled your eyes, and uncovering your eyes, you looked at him. Truly looked at him this time. His smooth, unwrinkled uniform. His hair that grew over time, kissing past his eyelashes and swaying with the wind. The tiny mole peeking under his bottom lip, the familiar scrunch of his nose as he grinned widely. The speckled brown of his eyes were so warm, almost dreamlike against the golden sun. Under long years of an uncalled contact, of an untouched hand, of a voiceless wonder—‘how have you been?’ ‘what was on your mind today?’—you saw the Jungkook you once knew, your dearest friend. And with his smile, you found your heart aching and full at the same time.

ringggggg!

The alarm jolts the both of you, severing spring’s heartbeat as loud chatter and footsteps disrupt the moment from open windows.

You only stare at each other for a brief second before you give a half smile, “that's the bell, we should go.” Without waiting for an answer, you followed the pace of the rest of school, but before you could take a step down the staircase, Jungkook takes your hand. His grip isn’t tight or rough. Its gentle, reluctant. You turn around, and the sun is behind him, kissing the back of his head with its golden, stray flakes.

"What is it?" You furrowed your brows. “I...its just..." It takes a moment before Jungkook speaks, cheeks tinged with a faint red. "Y/n I, I miss—”

“Jungkook,” you interrupt in masked panic, averting your eyes as you pulled your hand back. In truth, you were scared. Finals week would be soon and you didn’t think you could handle any more mental strain than you already had, especially not with him. “I-I think we’re going to be late.” Jungkook eyes widen for a second, stricken with dejection. He mumbles, “right...”

You don’t dare to look at him, turning away, you say, “it was nice talking to you again. Bye, Jungkook.”

ACT 2. | DAYTIME SHOOTING STAR

The second time you see Jungkook again, the spring showers are sharp against your skin. You had just gotten off from your 6 hour shift, and where the sunset hues of timid pink and vibrant yellow were supposed to be, the overcast sky was instead. It's been about 30 minutes since you clocked off, but you knew your dad was home, so you decided to take the long way back.

It didn't matter that you were a blur of blue walking in grey tainted streets. Didn’t matter that the downpour soaked your clothes or that cars occasionally splashed you with murky road puddles. You could be anywhere, and anywhere would be better than where your dad was.

Droplets drooped down your eyelashes, dribbling down onto your phone. It’s screen illuminated your color drained face. You stared at Taehyung’s contact, biting your lip nervously.

YOU :

hey taehyung, can i come over? if that's possible of course|

hey taehyung, can i come over? i|

hey taehy/

.../

i need you|

Your thumb hovered over the tempting, blue send button. Press it, Y/n. Just press it. (But would he mind?) He said it was okay to ask for help. (But... what if he's busy right now?) It's okay to ask. (You'd just be bothering him. If you're too needy, he'll push you away, you know that.) Just press the damned—

“Y/n!” A hand reaches your back, and although it was a mere brush, you yelp in alarm, instantly stumbling back. When you're sure you're about to be submerged into a puddle, a hand firmly grasps your forearm, steadying you as the said person pulls you closer to them. The rain stops—or rather, patters against an umbrella now hovering over you. Your eyes flutter from the hand holding you to the hand holding the umbrella handle, and lastly, the holder.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” Jungkook half laughs. When you don’t reply, your mouth only agape, he adds, “are you okay?” It takes you a moment before you nod. You were close, as close two people could be under a small umbrella (or was it because Jungkook has gotten really big?), so you take a step back. But before you could feel even one raindrop on your face again, Jungkook pulls you back into him, “I don’t want you getting sick, y/n.”

“I’m already soaked anyways,” you frown, but he only disregards you. “Where are you heading?”

“Nowhere.”

When his brows threatened to crease, you add, “Got off work a few minutes ago, I was just taking a stroll.” Jungkook opened his mouth, and you were sure he was going to say something in the lines of, “in the rain? have you gone mad?” But to your surprise, he doesn’t. Instead, his fingers intertwine with yours. “My homes not far. Come with me?”

"Your...home?” You repeat dumbly, disregarding how warm his hand was—how you missed it, how right it felt in yours. “Yeah, if thats okay with you. If not, then mind if I walked with you?” You pause, taking in Jungkook’s attire. What he was doing in a button down, black trousers, and sleek shoes, you didn’t know—but his dry state save for the few droplets on his clothes meant that he'd much rather prefer to be under a roof. You weren’t sure if he was going to take no for an answer, and being under shelter did sound pleasant. At least, more pleasant than being in wet socks. “Okay,” you say, “take me home.”

When you arrive, you're relieved to discover Mr. and Mrs. Jeon are on a business trip. You missed the Jeons, truly—they were the only family you’ve ever known, but you didn’t think you were ready to see them again.

You remembered Jungkook’s house being an absolute palace when you were a child—modernized with elegance adorned with a scenic garden and a clean landscape—but it still didn’t fail to leave your jaw agape. Expansive was always an understatement. “Here, get changed,” Jungkook hands a towel, an oversized sweater and sweatpants, and of course, fuzzy socks. You only nodded as he led you through the familiar halls to his room. “Just call for me when you’re done, kay?”

“Mm,” you mumbled, still in a daze even after he left. Bittersweet nostalgia filled your nostrils with the scent of vanilla and almonds, a soy candle he still apparently loves. It's only been three years since you’ve last set foot on his grey, hardwood floors, but you still noticed the subtle changes. Instead of pokemon action figures—burnished, golden trophies filled his glass shelves. They were only a few Jungkook was really proud of, otherwise his room would be brimmed with his accomplishments.

Picture perfect polaroids capturing euphoric memories and cheerful grins scattered Jungkook's walls. A refined stereo set replaced the bright blue boom box of your childhood, the one covered with doraemon stickers and scratches. Memories of 4th grades' January flooded your mind, when the blandness of the month was disrupted with color as the two of you jammed to Ego by JHOPE on repeat. Jungkook may have added and taken a few things out, but you found anchor in what stayed the same. His plants that hung from the ceiling were still there, ivies draped with growth over the past years. Kim Namjoon, Jungkook’s long time idol, smiled from a framed poster on his wall. Everything was still polished with his neatness, a habit you had always commended him for.

As you dried your damp hair, a photo frame catches your eye, sitting on the side of his bookshelf. Your breath catches in your throat. You slowly walk to the dainty item, painted white and blue to resemble noon skies. In the corner of the frame ignited a bright, pale limerence. Sparks of vivid blue and tangerine whipped through the wooden confines. You felt your heart thump against your chest. It was a—

"Daytime shooting star!" You gleamed, holding a paint brush into the sky, the handle rough from years of dried paint. It was a hot summer day, a few weeks after the end of seventh grade. Cicadas sung adamant songs through Jungkook's cracked open window as the two of you sat on his floor, blanketed with a fuzzy iron man carpet.

He looked at you quizzically, "a daytime shooting star?" As far as Jungkook knew, there was no such thing. "Yeah," you chirp. "That's you, Kook. You're my daytime shooting star." Jungkook nearly dropped his paint brush then, risking his favorite carpet as he looked at you, wide eyed with stun. You were wearing his t-shirt as per usual, your face smudged with blue paint and an innocent smile. Jungkook hated you for it.

It was always your choice of words—my Jungkook, my Kook, my Kookie, and now, my daytime shooting star—that he swore would be the death of him every single time. He didn't even know what you meant, but he didn't care, because being called yours was enough to kill him.

"Th-Thats stupid," he mumbled as he looked away, a futile attempt to hide his burning cheeks. "That doesn't even make sense." When the air shifted to silence, Jungkook immediately regretted his words. He quickly turned back around, fearing he accidentally hurt your feelings due to his own fluster. Maybe that was when Jungkook realized you really had grown up since the 6th grade, because this time, tears didn't drip down your cheeks. Instead, your eyes were curious and doe as you tilted your head to your side. "Does it matter?"

"What?

“A lot of things don’t make sense, but does it have to matter?” You frowned.

“I-I don’t—”

“I like you a lot, Kook,” and though you weren't at the least bit shy saying so, Jungkook’s emotions exploded everywhere. “I don’t think you need reasons to like someone, but you’re my daytime shooting star, Kook, and that's my reason. Can't I just like you? Does it...does it have to make sense?”

It felt like light years as Jungkook stared, red as he looked into the golden specks of your eyes, glinting from the blazing sun. “I-I don't know,” he gulped, his voice small. He was going to leave it at that at first. He didn't know what to say—what he could say. His mind was as clumsy and berserk as a deflating balloon to your previous words, but when he saw your sullen eyes and mopey pout, he felt an inadvertent panic in his gut.

His eyes shifted to his boom box. Etched on the side of the speaker was Doraemon, giving him a childish wink and thumbs up. Jungkook groaned in annoyance and you looked up, curious as he scratched the back of his head. "M-maybe we could...see it," he mumbled, barely grumbling, but your heart leapt with every syllable of his words. "Someday, together. The—"

“Daytime shooting star.”

You jumped, instantly whirling around to see Jungkook leaned against the door frame with his arms crossed over his torso. His eyes were soft, as if his gaze itself caressed you. “Y-You...” your thumb grazed the flimsy wood. “You still have this.”

“Yeah, and I still don’t have a photo,” he chuckled, making his way towards you. “14 years of friendship and you’d think we’d finally have a perfect picture to put in the frame.” It was pretty silly now that you thought about it. Despite spending a whole summer’s day decorating the item with childlike ambivalence, you never allowed Jungkook to slide a photo in it. No, it couldn’t just be any glossy photograph. You fussed over the concept of a perfect portrait, but nothing ever satisfied you enough, and with each passing year, it must've slipped your mind.

“I don’t get it... We haven’t talked for like, three years, and you still have this?”

"Does it have to make sense that I did?” Jungkook tilted his head, his eyelids lowering to look down at you. You open your mouth to reprimand him for using your words against you, but no words come out. Fuck. You swear it was his eyes—you’ve always said they were full of magic when you were children. It must’ve been that damned spellbinding luster that stole your voice. “What did you mean?” Jungkook takes a tentative step forward.

“Huh?” It came out like a breath.

Maybe it was the dim incandescence of the room, complementing the silhouette of his sculpted physique. Maybe it was the fact that the cloth he wore seemed too thin, too tense around his biceps and broad shoulders. Maybe it was because his first three buttons were left unclasped, teasing the faint outline of his chest. Or maybe it was the fact that you were so used to being in eye level with him—hell, looking down at him in the earlier points of your life. But you realized then, as Jungkook stared at you with a glint you couldn’t seem to quite recognize, how small you felt in front of him. Under him.

“When you said I was your daytime shooting star. You never explained it to me, what you meant,” Jungkook takes one final step forward, and the distance between you is insignificant. You don’t move—didn’t even think you could with your back pressed against his bookshelf. You could only return his gaze, doe eyes wavering beneath his. “What I meant to you...what I still mean to you.”

Your breath hitches, “Kook...”

“Fuck, I missed that,” his voice is low, breathless as his fingers brush your cheeks. “So fucking much, Y/n. I missed you calling my name, whatever you say. Kook, Kookie, Jungkook—I don’t care, just missed your voice, I still do. Don’t you know? Everyday, how much I long for you?”

Your eyes widen at his assertion. Wherever this was coming from, you didn't have the heart to stop it. "J-Jung—"

“—I miss you, Y/n. Any time I'm not around you it hurts and every time I am it hurts even worse.” His voice is so gentle, you fear he could hear the rhythm of your heart beat, palpitating with the heavy raindrops against his window.

“Why....why did you push me away?”

The waves were restless that cold, autumn night—you saw it through the fogged window of the train. Exhaustion tugged your eyes and your muscles screamed with every movement. As the train tracks rumbled beneath you, you wondered if you were even alive anymore, at least, it didn’t feel like it. All that was certain to you was the midnight stars outside, following you no matter where you went.

You didn’t know when the train entered the station, sighing to a stop as the doors slid open with a loud gush. It was probably 2am—Maybe 3, and the carts didn’t hold people this time around. At least you didn’t think it did, you honestly didn’t have the energy to even think about it. You only wondered how further you could go without knowing exactly how far you already went. Your neck ached from your head hanging low, and if it was cold, you didn’t feel it. All you felt was numb. An aching, dull pain eating away at your heart.

It was when you heard rushed heaves and loud footsteps that your eyes widened to see a familiar pair of green converse stop in front of you. You lift up your head to see Jungkook, cheeks red either from crying or the cold, maybe both. His brows were deeply furrowed as he crouched down, his hands gripping your shoulders.

“C-Can you hear me, Y/n? Are—are you okay?” You only nodded. He felt like a mirage, a dream.

You didn’t know what he saw in you that caused the droplets of sorrow to drip from his eye—whether it was the bruises covering your body, or the deep eye bags from restless nights at work—but it made you sad, how he looked at you. You wished he’d stopped. You wished you could be so far away that he didn’t have to look at you anymore.

“You’re, fuck, you’re freezing,” Jungkook quickly pulls his coat off and swathes it around you. “I’m sorry, y/n. I’m so sorry I didn’t get here earlier.” You shook your head, your dull headache being replaced with confusion. “Why are you even apologizing, Kook? H-How did you even find me? Why are you even here?” You had turned off your cell the whole day and gave no indication to where you’d be. You didn’t even tell Jungkook how you were feeling, it made no sense to see him there, holding you.

“We’re soulmates remember? Of course I’d know,” Jungkook tries his best to give a smile. “I’m here because you are. Just—look, lets get you out of here first okay?” Before you can tell him you can walk by yourself, he lifts you up, taking your hand as he leads you out. “The next train back to Seoul arrives in 8 minutes,” Even when Jungkook and you sit down on a bench, he doesn’t let go. He’s shaking, you realize, with his fingers intertwined with yours. It was as if he wanted to hold you tighter, but he was afraid. Afraid of what? Afraid of hurting you? Or afraid of you hurting him if you slip out of his grasp any further?

“How did you know?” You begin again. “I told you I was sick, I called the school too. A-and how did you even know where I was?”

“You called in sick for three days Y/n,” he frowns, “and you haven’t texted me once. I was so worried, fuck, I was so fucking worried when I went to your house to see that you weren't there. All my calls went straight to voice mail, and I saw...I-I saw the shattered beer bottles, the blood. I-I panicked, even thought of calling the police,” when your face goes rigid, he assures you, “of course I wouldn’t though, I would never do that you. But anyway, it took me awhile to guess, and I wasn’t even sure—just started running. I imagined you’d definitely be in a space ship to Pluto right about now, but I took a risky bet on the train station. You know, being much more accessible to us and all.” When Jungkook finishes light heartedly, you give a dry laugh, “you know me so well, Koo."

His small grin falls shortly as silence does, rubbing soothing circles with his thumb on your hand. When he speaks again, his voice is quiet, sad, “You always...you always said you’d bring me. We’re a team aren’t we? You and me, I-I thought...I would’ve been there, Y/n. You know I'd be there for you in a heartbeat. Don't you trust me?”

"Of course I trust you, Kook," you quickly assure him through your thin veil of tears. It hurt too much to know you were the reason for the crack in his voice, for the ache in his heart, for his glazed eyes. You couldn't stand his pity, but you couldn't stand being the source of his grief either. "Then why didn't you call me..? All I ever wanted was to be there for you, all I ever want is to be by your side, y/n. Why won't you just let me help you?”

“Because you don’t understand, Kook,” you croak. “You don't understand how hard it is for me—how hard it's always been. It'll only ever always be like this, and I-I can't just...fuck Kook, I can't just depend on you every time I get hurt. My problems are for me to sort out, I have no one but myself.”

“But you have me, y/n," the tears you fought so hard to hold back falls when Jungkook covers both your cheeks with his hands. The boy inhales sharply, trying to calm himself from crying any longer as he presses his forehead against yours. "It hurts me so much when you talk like that, y/n. You have me, you always have me. A-and it scares me because sometimes it just feels like I don't have you, that I never did and—"

"Jung—"

"You’ve been so distant lately," his breath is shaky and hot against your skin. "....It feels like you’re going to leave me. Please, don’t. Don't leave me behind like this, y/n.” You don't say anything else, too overwhelmed with his heartache beating with yours. In that cold autumn night, all you could do was cry in his arms.

The train arrives shortly.

“Lets go home," Jungkook murmurs sweetly against your skin. He kisses your forehead softly, and when he does, it feels like you already are home.

“Come here,” he grins, standing up with his hand out. You take it. “Have you eaten yet? I can make us food when we get back. What would you like?”

“Honestly? Just ramen.” Jungkook groans as you step inside the desolate train cart. “You know I could cook something way better for us."

"Nothing is better than ramen with eggs, Kook," you chide, giggling when Jungkook rolls his eyes. You take your hand away from him, and Jungkook tenses, only to relax when you cup his cheek once more. “But seriously, thank you, Jungkook. For everything. For worrying, being here for me, for finding me." He smiles, his eyes like crescent moons luminescent with love as he looks down at you, "always.”

"You said you'd do anything for me right?”

“Of course, anything, y/n.”

“Then please stop after this," you keep your small smile even as Jungkook's brows furrowed with confusion. You said it so simply, so plainly that he thought he might have heard you wrong. "What do you...?"

“Nothing will change after this. Nothing. I can't escape from my life, I can't escape from debt or my dad no matter how hard I try—and being the cause of your anxiety won't help me. I don't need a savior, and I don't think you need me holding you back either. We're burdening each other Kook.” With a heavy gush, the train doors start sliding shut and before Jungkook can even comprehend your words, you step out. “Don't have worry about me anymore, okay?”

“W-Wait— y/n—!” He’s quick to run, but it's too late. The doors slide shut, finally severing the thin red string of fate that held the two of you.

The rain falls with your tears as you cry into your hands, guilt washing over you like tidal waves. You remember his face the most, how heartbreak and betrayal etched with the dying fade of his smile. How you left him that day, how you left him everyday after that.

“I-I was just so tired, so tired of everything. I... I'm so sorry I pushed you away. I just didn't want you to worry about me anymore. You were always so good, everything about you, and I was scared I was holding you back and...and it hurt too much to stay knowing I was." Jungkook’s arm wrapped around your waist as his other hand gently pulled your head to his body. You're too stunned to move, but when you gather yourself, you decide you don't want to. You just cry, burying your face into his chest, your hands tightening around his shirt.

"I never once stopped thinking about you, y/n," he mumbled into your hair. "I never once not worried, never once not looked for you, and you—god, y/n—you never once held me back. Silly girl, don’t you know you were the only one who kept me together?” Jungkook lets out a noise, somewhere in between a sigh and a groan as he lowers his head onto your shoulder, "I did everything, anything to keep myself distracted from you. Competitions, sports, art, studies, friends.” His soft hair tickled your jaw as he nuzzled closer into the crook of your neck. “But I couldn’t, y/n, it was always you, it was never not you. Do you know how torn I was, watching you and not being able to talk to you? To hold you, be afraid of losing you even more than I already had?"

The pitter-pattering of the rain against the rooftop fills the voice you can’t seem to conjure. "Did you ever miss me?” Jungkook pulls away, and your eyes lock with his under the blue world. You realize then, by looking at him, just how scared he was. If you pushed him away again, he didn’t know what he’d do.

Reluctantly, you bring your hand to sweep Jungkook's tousled bangs away, brushing your fingers against the shell of his ear. "I did," you whisper, and more clearly, "I-I did, of course I did.” When Jungkook doesn't respond, your hand trails down his neck ... to his shoulders ... to his chest. "Do you hate me?"

Jungkook inhales sharply, "N-no." He could never.

"Your heart is beating so fast.... are you afraid?"

"I am."

"I am too," you lift his hand and place it against your own chest, laying it atop your own heartbeat. Thump, thump, thump, you don’t catch the pink of his cheeks when you’re too busy staring at the sad stars in his eyes. "I was too, back then. I know it's selfish, and i-i'm sorry I hurt you, but I hope you understand what kind of position I was in. I was so young, so scared—I just wanted to be alone, felt like it was a way to protect myself from anything else that could hurt me. I’m different now, I think, more stable—whatever that is," you chuckle dryly. "I can’t promise I won’t push you away, but I won’t leave anymore, really, s-so...."

Jungkook's eyes soften, his lids lowering when you say, "Can you trust me?"

"Of course," Jungkook breathes, “always.”

ACT III. | EPIPHANY

"Just go to sleep already, Jeon."

You've been repeating yourself for the past 3 hours, watching him restlessly saunter around his room. "...swear i’m missing something, I just don't know what..." Jungkook, like the countless of other times, dismissed you as he continued to tap his finger on his chin, mumbling to himself in intense focus. It was only when you’ve finally had enough, groaning and hurling a tissue box at him—which he instantly caught with ease—that he finally noticed your glare. "What was that for?"

"I said just go to sleep already!" You exhaled frustratedly, "you packed your whole room at this point, Kook. I swear you have, like, triple of everything you don't even need—so for the thousandth time, could you please just shut the lights?" It's been a few weeks since that one spring evening, and time started ticking again with Jungkook by your side. It took you awhile to adjust to his company, it was odd—but everything was odd at this point. Odd but comforting when Jungkook started visiting the rooftop every lunch, odd but reassuring when he'd pick you up after every shift, and odd but exciting to spend the night with him before the anticipated field trip to Jeju island. The four days were a granted escape before the tumultuous finals of the upcoming winter. Even you were a bit eager to go, having finally taken a justified leave off work.

"Fine, fine, but if I do end up forgetting something important, I blame you," Jungkook huffs, sauntering to the light switch. “Go ahead,” you roll your eyes, and with a small click!, a satisfied sigh escapes your lips. “Finally,” You snuggled into his pillows, but when the bed dips down right next to you, you realized you had forgotten to ask Jungkook to shut his mouth as well. "Will you sit next to me on the way there?" You squinted to the darkness, raising your brows at the silhouette of his figure. "Jungkook, you're literally my only friend, do you even need to ask?" He chuckled, "but will you? We don't have to sit with my friends if you don't want to."

You hummed, thinking as Jungkook carefully brushed loose strands of hair away from your face, the warmth of his fingers trailing down the side of your neck. You were reluctant about being seen with Jungkook at first, but the choice wasn't left to you when his friends spotted you and him at the library sometime ago. It honestly wasn't as bad as you expected, and more surprisingly, you even clicked with a few with them. Seokjin was one you gravitated to the most, being a truly funny and charming senior that you felt you could look up to. "No, it's fine. I like your friends." Jungkook’s head perked up, and the darkness captures the bright twinkle in his eyes. "Really, you do?" You smile, knowing how happy that must have made him. "Really, I do. Now can we please go to sleep? I'd like to be at least remotely awake for the first day."

“Okay, okay, grumpy head," a bunny like grin appears on his face as pinches your cheek, chuckling when you only grumble in return.

He strokes your hair down one last time before placing a kiss on your forehead. “Good night, y/n.”

"Good night, Kook," the reassuring warmth of his skin leaves yours, and you hear him shuffle in his own mattress on the floor. It's been awhile since you've felt like this, so safe. Though it didn't necessarily matter, being with Jungkook was different with Taehyung, you noticed. When it came to Taehyung, it was as if all your problems could dissipate with his touch. That for a moment, they could just disappear.

When it came to Jungkook, though, your problems were still there. They existed, they were real, and yet, when you with him, it felt like everything would be okay. He was like a breath fresh air, and you felt like you could get through anything—whatever it may be, as long as he was there. With that thought, you slowly, but surely, drifted to sleep.

ringgggg!! ringgg!!! ringggg!!

What happened afterwards came in fragments of fuzzy memories, distorted with exhaustion. It was the phone ringing first, then it was the shuffle of Jungkook rising from his mattress. The ringing, his heavy yawn, the ringing, groggy footsteps, the ringing, the clatter of the drawer—and finally, silence. "Y/n...?" His voice barely reached where your mind was, deep inside the depths of whatever dream dimension you were in. "Y/n," he said again. No reply. "Y/n... Y/n!"

"What?!" You groaned, lazily sitting up with a snarl and a bed head. The ringing starts again and you rub your eyes to where your phone screen illuminated Jungkook's face. "What is it?" You mumble, a little concerned to his expression. "God, is it Mrs. Joomi again? I just paid this month’s rent like a few d—"

"Mr. Kim."

You freeze. The two, single words are akin to iced buckets of water being splashed onto your face, instantly waking you up.

"Taehyung with a heart and moon emoji—but that's Mr. Kim, isn't it? In that photo? That's his first name." Your heart lurches forward. 태형☽<3, displaying a low quality photo of him that you secretly took while he was preparing breakfast. It was once a happy morning, and this was once a happy night—disrupted by its forbidden rays of joy.

When Jungkook finally looks at you through the stark darkness, you can only stare back, your heartbeats filling the silent stun of your dry throat. The bubbly melody stops, and when you don't say anything, Jungkook's voice grows louder, "Y/n what—what the hell is this? Why is Mr. Kim calling you at 3am? Why do you have a photo of him? Why is his contact—"

"J-Jungkook," You nervously moved to sit on the front edge of the bed, attempting to speak as calmly as you can. Jungkook would understand...right? He wouldn't tell, he couldn't. He knows you, your financial situation. It was okay. "Remember when you asked me not to push you away? Well, this is me letting you in. This is me trusting you Jungkook, so please just hear me out." Under the moonlight's glower, you see the bob of his adam's apple rise and fall. "Taehyung, he—"

"Taehyung?" You wince, the acidity of his voice like bitter poison. "I-I mean, Mr. Kim. M-Mr. Kim, he...helps me."

"Helps you?" Jungkook scoffs. "At 3am? How could he—" Suddenly, Jungkook's eyes go wide. "Y/n, you don't mean..."

You nod stiffly, "he gives me money in exchange for....i-its consensual! He helps me," your cheeks heat up, hating yourself for allowing this to happen, having to explain yourself. “A-anyway the point is, you won't tell anyone, right? You understand, don't you, Kook?"

"Understand?! Y/n—he’s a teacher! He's seven fucking years older than us—are you stupid, what were you thinking?!" The sting of his words ring in your ears like a harsh slap across your face. Throughout your years together, Jungkook had barely had the heart to scold you, so you were more than unprepared for his hurtful words. Your shock quickly subdues into anger though, and you stand up, “what I was thinking? What I was thinking?! I don't know Kook, maybe thinking about my fucking electric bill! Thinking about how to pay off debt—how to buy food for fuck's sake! I've looked after myself my whole life, and this is no different."

"Still—This is wrong, y/n! You know that! There are other ways like, like—"

"Like what Jungkook?!" You're in front of him now, pushing at his chest. "Working my ass off in nine to fives? Well I do that, Kook, every fucking day and yeah, a fucking disappointment for me too that it's not enough. You could never know how its like for me, but out of everyone, you're supposed to...! You’re supposed to understand,” you chuckle bitterly, shaking your head as a futile attempt to shake the hot tears away.

"Y/n...” Jungkook’s anger diminishes into a frustrated panic. He tries to reach for you, hold you, anything to keep you from crying because of him—but you turn away, and despite himself, he couldn’t help but feel guilty. He sighs harshly, his voice much softer now, “I just—out of all these years, you could've asked me. I was always there, y/n, and you never accepted me. I know we talked about this already, but the fact that...” He shakes his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I do understand, but I was always here. I was your best friend, why did you have to go to him? Am I...am I that unreliable to you?"

Your own heart sinks for him this time, quickly shaking your head. “No, Kook. I-It's not like that. I'm sorry this has to be so complicated, that i've made you feel small. You are reliable, Jungkook. You're my safe place, my person—always have been. I appreciated you so much but you need to understand how terrible it felt for me back then. I hated being pitied by you. You’re my friend, not a fucking philanthropist."

Jungkook takes your hand this time, "I never wanted to help you because I pitied you, y/n. You were always so strong, I don't think you could ever be someone I could pity. I wanted to help because I cared for you, loved you, and it breaks my heart knowing that you went through such lengths when you could've turned to me."

You sigh, threading your hands over the back of his hair. "It was all just circumstantial, Kook. Taehyung found me at a really low point in my life. I didn't search for it, but he was there and i’m thankful for yim, so please Jungkook, please." Your eyes wavered beneath his sad stare, hoping, pleading. Jungkook bites on his lip, cursing, "look...I won't tell on you if that's what you're thinking. I would never do that to you, i'm just worried. He's calling you at nearly 4am, y/n—shit, h-has he hurt you? Did he ever make you do anything you didn't want to?" Jungkook looks frantic for a second, but you quickly shake your head. "N-no! No, god no, he's never hurt me! You know him Kook, Tae would never hurt me." You miss how you even said Tae or how Jungkook's jaw clenched to it.

"I won't say anything, y/n, at least...not yet. You have to end it."

"W-What?"

"He took advantage of you in a low position in your life, y/n."

"N-No Kook, you don't understand!"

"It's not your fault, y/n, it's completely his. He's the adult here, it was wrong. You have to end this."

"But I can't! The money, Kook, you know I can't."

"Then let me help you," he steps closer. Your hands slide to his chest now, shaking your head. "No, Jungkook, my answer has been no and its still no. I refuse to be your charity case," you scoff. "Then you're not going to be. I'll pay you to sleep with me too."

Your eyes instantly shoot open. What..?

"I'll pay you to sleep with me," he repeats calmly. "Anytime you need it, anytime I want it, and I'm certain I'll be able to give you more than whatever Mr. Kim could." Your mouth only hangs open, words dying in your dry throat.

"What's wrong?" Jungkook asks, taking a step closer. This time, you take a step back. "If you were fine with doing it with Mr. Kim, shouldn't it be fine with me?"

"N-No," your voice is barely a shaky whisper. More clearly, "No, Jungkook. I can't just—we just started talking again. You're my only friend, I won't ruin us just for—"

"I won't let anything happen to us, I promise y/n."

"B-but—"

"You don't have to worry about it, okay? Plus, isn't this situation more ideal? You'd get paid more and you wouldn't have to rely on—"

"I love him!"

Its Jungkook's turn to be silent. "What..?"

"I love him Kook," you croak, heat overwhelming your cheeks.

"Y/n..."

"I know it's wrong, I know he seems like an asshole but he's not. I know him, Kook, and i’m mature enough to know myself too. I made my decision back then, and I keep making it today because...I love him." You can’t help but feel your anguish trickle down your eyes, and you cry into your hands. That’s it then. It’s done. You’ve finally admitted it, yet despite the burden of the untold truth lifting—you felt heavier, worse. By now, Jungkook would’ve pulled you into a warm embrace. He’d hush you with soothing murmurs and delicate kisses on your forehead. He’d trail his fingers through your hair, tell you that he knew, that he gets it, that it was okay. But he doesn’t. He couldn’t. You were crying for another man, and all he could feel was ache.

Your phone rings once more, and from the night stand, you see Taehyung’s figure on the dimmed screen. You reluctantly look at Jungkook, but when he doesn’t say anything, his expression unreadable, you take it. "H-hello?"

"Hey, doll," Taehyung's voice is low. "I’m sorry I keep calling, I feel really shit for waking you up at this time. I know the Jeju trip is in a few hours, but I just needed to talk to you."

"No, no, its fine. I was already awake anyways, um...what is it?" You turned away from Jungkook, nervously biting on your lip. Despite everything that had unfolded between the two of you, it was strange. Taehyung never called you at this time after all—and him saying you guys needed to talk only heightened your nerves.

"It's better to talk in person. Where are you? I can pick you up." You shake your head, despite not him being able to see you. "N-No, i’ll come over...is that okay?"

"Yeah, of course, I'll see you soon." With that, the call ends. You can feel Jungkook’s eyes on your back—its overwhelming, and you’re scared to face the definite disgust and judgement in his them, so you don’t look at him when lift your bag across your shoulder. "I’m sorry, I...I need to go.”

ACT IV | LOVE IS NOT OVER

Jungkook hasn't seen you since last night. You never showed up at the meeting spot, never answered his calls or texts—never even once read the 68 of them.

He was certain you came, though—he checked in with Mrs. Yoon before boarding, but you were always good at hiding, and Jungkook was always an impatient seeker. The whole process of arriving, checking into the hotel, and splitting into groups was a whole blur that ended in him never finding you. After spending hours exploring the designated routes through antique shops, cute cafes, pretty sceneries, and meadows with his friends, he started to fear that you didn't come after all—that Mrs. Yoon had made a mistake.

Surely, he would've bumped into you at least once through the whole trip. And where the fuck was Mr. Kim? Jeju was supposed to be the pinnacle of his highschool experience. He’d be elated with the giddiness of being out with his friends, kissed with the gift of delicious freedom. But it was 7:46 PM now, and even when he overlooked the vast beach dipped with sunset's entrancing glow, he felt anything but. Not when Seokjin cracked his lame dad jokes, nor when Eunha got him to bike through scenic trails.

Jungkook sighed as the strawberry milk clattered to the bottom of the vending machine. He spotted it tucked away from the corner of the museum his group wandered into. He excused himself, relieved that their chaperone actually trusted him to be by himself. He needed the space.

He poked the straw through the carton, leaning against the cold metal as his eyes gazed over the glistening waves. He hated you. Always leaving him like this, always making him restless and unsure.

It was when he looked for the moon in the dusk sky that he noticed a familiar silhouette amidst the shore. It wavered with the wind, and Jungkook instantly felt his scorn. The man's jeweled hand was holding a cigarette between two fingers, overlooking the ocean with distant eyes.

Fuck the sand, fuck his expensive shoes, fuck everything. Jungkook doesn't know when he starts running, but he doesn't stop.

It all happened so past—the sun would have missed it if not for the perfect view she had just over the excited ripples of the ocean. When Taehyung noticed his presence, it was already too late. Jungkook had grabbed his collar, and without a second of hesitance, punched him across his face. Taehyung fell into the sand with a grunt, cursing loudly. “What the fuck?!” He turned to his perpetrator, his glare quickly diminishing into pure shock to see his own student right in front of him, eyes poisoned with resentment and hatred.

Taehyung's emotions came whirling at him all at once. The confusion, then the anger, the urge to scream at him and punch him until he was left bleeding on the shore—then the mediating side of him, understanding that he'd done more than enough to get his ass fired, why the fuck would he...?—then the realization. He sighs roughly, shaking his head as he stands. He isn't up for long though, as Jungkook takes another swing. Taehyung’s cheeks scream with stinging pain, but Jungkook’s on top of him, and he doesn’t stop.

"You fucking bitch!" Jungkook seethed, barely feeling his fist continuously bury into Taehyung’s face. He knew. He knew how much you loved him, he knew Taehyung helped you. He knew you'd get angry, maybe even hate him for the rest of his life for this—But maybe that's why he couldn't control himself. He didn't care if you thought Taehyung was some angel. To him, Taehyung was just a disgusting predator who took advantage of your situation, and deep down, maybe it was more for a selfish reason. Taehyung was a man who touched you, who had you—who wasn’t him. "You disgusting fuck. Don't ever fucking touch y/n again, you hear me?!" Another hit, but Jungkook is too blinded with anger to realize the scary amount of blood drooling down his nose and lips, from the cuts of his cheeks. "I know," Taehyung rasps.

"If you know then why did you do it?! You’re a fucking creep, you’re disgusting.”

"I know," another hit, and blood stains his shirt. Taehyung curses and grabs Jungkook's fist before he can throw another punch, pushing him into the sand. "You dick, I swear to god, I swear to fucking god I'll fucking kill you." Jungkook thrashes under Taehyung, but the teacher buries both his wrists into the ground, his weight holding the younger boy down.

“Sh-Shit, Look, I know how you must feel about me, and I know I deserve this, but I would much rather avoid being seen like this so I'm going to say this quick and you're going to listen."

"Fuck you," Jungkook growls, glaring at the man on top of him. His eyes were unreadable, almost enigmatic, and Jungkook hated every unwavering speckle of deep brown in it.

"I don't regret it," Taehyung disregards him. "I liked her—y/n—and no matter what you think of me, that stands true. You must like her too, she told me about you some nights. I have to admit, hearing about another boy when she's laying in my own bed wasn't very pleasant for me, but you made her happy. You mean a lot to her," Jungkook shut his eyes tightly, cursing as he tried to get the image of Taehyung holding you in his arms out of his mind. "I know you don't think I care about her, but I do, so just fucking listen for a second okay? I know i'm no good for her, but you aren't either. You're too immature, we both know y/n deserves way more. See where you are now? Right under me when you could be there for her? Have you even seen her today? Have you asked her how she's been?"

"What... what the fuck are you saying."

Taehyung sighs, and stumbles back to stand, wincing as the harsh winds slap his bloodied face. He nimbly looks for his cigarette, and before he lights it, Jungkook grabs his lighter. "I said what the fuck do you mean?!"

"I ended it with her," Taehyung glares at him, his voice firm, cold as he snatches the lighter back. Jungkook feels his heart drop. “You...what?"

There's silence, and when the man turns to look at the sun drowning into the ocean’s abyss, he lights the cigarette, "the fireworks are starting soon." Jungkook's eyes widens. Before he knows it, he's already running.

You’ve always loved the fireworks.

His footsteps that were submerged into sand were now padding against the concrete of the sidewalk, his heart pounding in his ears. A few cars must have honked at him here and there as he ran through the streets, unknowing of his surrounding because all he can think of his getting to his destination—you. He frantically reaches for his phone, panting.

You

JK : where are you?

my love : my room

my love : 613, 7th floor

JK : on my way.

ACT V. | HOLD ME TIGHT

At least the fireworks were pretty.

Your eyelids drooped, puffed with drowsy red as you watched the sparkling scene on the balcony of the hotel. Evening's cold breeze teased your bare legs, dancing with the delicate ends of your black, satin nightgown. You were hugging yourself yourself, leaning against the cold railings as sparks of vivid red shatter into memories tainted with heartbreak. The red silk sheets that you grasped tightly beneath you. The red lingerie that Taehyung slid off your skin. The red wine he poured into the pan when you told him you were hungry. You liked watching him the most, you thought as he stood in front of the stove, his eyes trained on the steak. You liked watching him unbutton his top, talk about his day, how he let out loud laughter whenever a funny story would come up. You loved when he unveiled himself for you, when he'd strip off his enigmatic persona bare and let you peer into his soul.

But that's all you ever did, you guessed, all you ever could do. You watched him when he smiled down at you, his cold fingertips brushing your waist, and you watched him as he left.

It must've been 4 minutes into the firework show when you heard the doorbell ring. Sighing, you leave the balcony as yellow ignites the night sky. You open the door to Jungkook, his chest heaving up and down, his hair tousled by wind, beads of sweat sticking to his neck.

When he doesn't say anything, and neither do you, you step aside to let him in. You wonder if he was still angry about last night, how he'd react when you tell him—but with the way he looked down at you, tender eyes dawned with sadness, you already understand you don’t have to. "I know," Jungkook steps closer, pulling you into a hug. His warmth embraces you as darkness does when the door clicks shut. "What happened, I know."

You sighed, closing your eyes. The fireworks sounded so distant compared to his heartbeat. Jungkook must've ran for you, you thought as your buried your face into his chest. Of course he would, he always has. Maybe that certainty is what intoxicates you to murmur, "I'll accept it."

"What?"

"What you proposed last night, I'll accept it," you say calmly, quietly. You looked up at him with wavering eyes, "please...I need you right now."

Jungkook's heart practically lurched out of his chest. He knew he should take a step back, tell you that you'd end up regretting it and to take it back before it was too late. He knew, but the devil on his shoulder was much more insistent than his angel, and maybe... maybe his angel wanted it too—so fuck it all.

Jungkook took your lips in a magnetic dance, drawing you closer into him with one hand on your lower back and the other behind your head.

God, you were so lovely. How your head lolled for him, soft, plush lips jarred open. Jungkook has always been good at controlling himself when it came to you, but when he heard the slightest whimper escape your trembling lips, he felt he couldn't hold himself back any longer.

He didn't seek for permission to suck your lower lip, didn’t even seek permission to slide his tongue inside your lovely little mouth when you gasped. He held your chin, deepening the kiss. More, more, more—he wanted more of you. He wanted to explore your body, wanted to make your breath tremble, wanted to find out what you liked and disliked under bedsheets. Jungkook wanted to know you better than anyone else had. He wanted you, needed you.

“Kook,” You whimper into him as he pushes you against the wall, holding your thigh up. He grinds his bulge against your clothed cunt, sending wild tremors along your nerves. “F-feels so good.”

“Yeah?” He takes your other thigh, and you yelp as he lifts you up. Your surprise quickly washes out with haze when he buries his thick tent further into you. You let out a moan, wrapping your legs around his torso. “I can make you feel even better.”

The explosions of the fireworks are blurred with the palpitations of your heart as Jungkook lays you on the bed, his lips immediately finding home in yours. "Love how you sound for me, love," Jungkook’s wet, needy kisses trail down your neck...to your collarbones...to your breast. “So pretty like this, always so pretty,” his fingers ghost your sensitive nipples, perked from evening's cold. He doesn't waste any time to take one nipple into his mouth, his fingers playing with the other.

His cold hand trails down your stomach, finally pressing it down your soaked underwear. He smirks, feeling the soaked outline of your pussy lips. “Already so wet for me baby? How cute."

His plush lips leave your nipple with a pop, instead latching onto the crook of your neck. Your eyes go wide when you realize what he's about to do. “Wait, d-don’t! Not th—ah.” He doesn't allow you to finish your sentence, swiftly sliding your underwear out of the way before pressing a hard thumb over your clit. “Don't deny me, y/n,” His voice is low over your whiny moans. He sucks on the supple of your skin as he slides one, slender finger into you, smoothly drawing it in and out while he rolls your little bud with his other. “Please, need to show everyone that you’re mine,” he murmurs, licking his work, perfectly tinged with a pretty pink . “Besides...” he trails, taking note of your arousal dripping down his wrists. “You love this, don’t you?”

“N-No..! I...ah, K-Kook, Kookie..!” Your voice fails you, moans escaping from your trembling lips. “Jungkook s-stop..!” Jungkook frowns against your skin, and he lifts his head up to meet your gaze. “Why not?” His eyes are dark. You try to fight the muddle of your mind as his slow, tentative fingers continue to work on your cunt. “B-Because...because student c-council. It's inappropriate, and your friends will ask, a-and... mm!—“

“Taehyung?” Jungkook says bitterly, but you’re too indulged with the knot in your stomach. You moan loudly, your hands finding anchor wrapped around his biceps. “I'm sure you don’t want Taehyung to see, do you?” Jungkook's pace is furious now, and you barely make out his words through the thick fog of your mind. You feel so close. “Don’t want him to know that you're with me, hm? That i’m finger fucking you into my dumb whore."

His indecent words paint a wild blush on your cheeks. You never knew Jungkook could be like this, could be so mean.

"You know what I think..."

Jungkook lowers himself down between your sweaty thighs, quivering with painful pleasure. "''Think my dumb babygirl wants me to clean her messy little pussy up. Would you like that, love?"

"Y-Yeah," you moan, desperately bucking your hips up, "p-please eat me out, Kook."

"Needy girl," Jungkook lets out a sigh, his pants tightening around his painful hard on. You were so pretty like this, Jungkook swore he could cum just by watching you.

You almost cry when he pulls his fingers away, instead squeezing around your squishy hips. You do cry, though, when he gives your pussy a tantalizing lick, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. "Knew my baby girl would taste so sweet," he groans. His tongue circles around your throbbing bud, sucking on it.

"Fuck! K-Kook, I-I can't," you wail, tears falling down your cheeks. Jungkook only flutters his eyes open, watching you with heated eyes as his tongue works on your wet cunt.

"Please, g-gonna cum, please!" Your back arches. Jungkook's hands the only thing anchoring you down.

"Then cum, baby, cum for me." Jungkok's voice is tender, coaxing like warm honey. With his encouragement, your dripping cunt spasms, unfurling your cream all over him. "That's my girl," His attentive tongue takes your sweet release, the embarrassing sound of slurping clouding your brain.

"You were so good for me, baby," He cooes, planting one final kiss on your quivering bud. Your cheeks tinge with a shy pink.

He lifts himself up, carefully laying over you so his forehead is pressed against yours. His eyes search yours under the veil of the moonlight. The fireworks must've stopped along the way, your heavy breaths filling the quiet room. "Tired, love?" Jungkook whispers, and you nod timidly, reaching your arms out to hug him.

Your skin is sticky with sweat like melting ice cream on hot summer days, but Jungkook adores his body pressed against yours. His fingers squeeze your smooth waist, placing gentle kisses on your neck, up your jaw, capturing your lips once more in a slow dance. A thin string line of saliva connects the two of you when he pulls back, and he breaks it off with a gentle graze across your wet lips.

"Think you can continue for me, baby?" Jungkook asks soothingly. "It's okay if you can't, of course. Must've been such a long day for you."

You shake your head, your hand lightly tracing the outline of the small scar on his cheek. You still remember the day he fell off his bicycle, somehow managing to tumble down the hill all the way to the train tracks. It must've been the first time you ever saw him cry.

"I want to."

"Are you sure?" His eyebrows perk up. "Because we really don't have to. I don't ever want you to feel like you have to please me. I know you took my offer, but if you aren't ready or comfortable, nothing has to happen. Believe it or not, pleasuring you already makes me feel euphoric." His words have you melt, gentle as a sweet night's lullaby.

"But I want us to feel good together," you say softly. "Please take me, Kookie. I want you." Jungkook's eyes widen, faint pink blooming on his cheeks, and you watch the stars in his eyes grow brighter with your shy gaze. He lets out a small chuckle, "god, you really don't know what you do to me, y/n."

He places a gentle peck on your lips one last time before rising to his knees, discarding his clothes. You're quick to slip off your nightdress and underwear, and you patiently admire Jungkook's toned physique as he worked to unbuckle his belt. Even the moon was enamored with him, tracing its luminous glow from his broad shoulders to his biceps, wrapping around his slim waist.

Your breath hitches when his dick springs out right in front of you, thick and swollen, oozing pre cum. Jungkook watches you with heated eyes, his hand grazing his dick. "Wow," you breathe, sitting up and replacing his hand with yours. Jungkook's hisses when you stroke his cock, doe eyed to his length that throbbed with neglect. "You're so pretty, Kookie. You're pretty everywhere..."

"I should be the one who's telling you that, darling," he lets out a shaky breath through his smile, his hand finding your cheek. "Now, i’d love for that lovely little mouth of yours to suck my cock, but I feel like i'm gonna explode any minute now, and i'd like to do so inside of you," he chuckles when a furious blush takes your cheeks. You let him push you down, positioning himself in between your legs. He takes his pulsating cock in his hands, sliding his glistening head over your cunt. "Would you like that baby? Want me to cum in this cute little pussy? Wanna take Kook's cum like a good girl?" You feel yourself shy from his words, whimpering, "y-yes please, Kookie."

"Tell me how much you want it, baby."

"S-So bad. Kookie p-please, want you to fill me up."

"Yeah?" Jungkook chuckled, a cocky smirk on his lips that made you tremble. "Think your tiny pussy can even take my cock?"

"Y-Yes, m'pussy wants your cock, p-please Kook!"

"Dirty girl, love it when you beg for me," he pushes the blunt head of his cock into your swelling entrance, already having you see stars by the time he fills you up whole. "You okay?" Jungkook breathes out, his forehead falling against yours. You nodded timidly, "j-just need a little time to adjust."

"Okay, baby, tell me when you're ready." He pecks your nose, letting out a shaky sigh as your walls clench around him. When you do, Jungkook takes your knees, pushing them on either side of you so your legs are spread out wide for him.

He pulls out his whole cock so he could see the flush tip of his cock before plunging back into you. You moan loudly to his even pace, bottoming you out with every thrust.

"F-fuck, been wishing for this forever. Just want to punish this pussy for making me wait for this long."

Harsh skin to skin contact and the squelch of your juices mixing together fills your fuzzy mind. You felt so full, you could practically feel him in your belly. "Shit, you're practically swallowing me. You like this, don't you?"

"Y-yeah, love your cock, Kookie," you moan, his pace growing faster and more unforgiving. "I'm never letting you go after this, fuck y/n. You're mine, you’re so fucking mine. Say it, say you're mine, p-please."

"Yours," you whimper, feeling the familiar tingling ecstasy overwhelm your stomach. "O-Only yours, Kookie."

"That's right, baby, open your mouth." You didn't know exactly why, but you didn't question him. He could tell you to do absolutely anything right now and you'd do it. Your wet lips jar open for him, and Jungkook spits in your mouth, sending a wave of tremor through your body. "Swallow."

You listen, obediently swallowing. "That's my girl."

"Kookie, kookie...m'gonna cum!"

"Again baby? You’re so easy, barely have to do anything and you're spilling." You moan to his words, thrusting in and out of you in a hypnotic pace. "Go on then, baby. Cum for me, make a mess over my balls."

Your whole body tenses, feeling the overwhelming wave wash over you. Eyes rolling to the back of your head, you release around him the second time. "Good girl, baby, so good for me, fuck," Jungkook hisses to your tightening walls squeezing around him, driving himself into your belly until he pours all his cum deep inside of you.

You practically drooled, his load coming out in spurts of thick cream. When he pulls out, your pussy twitches, his cum oozing out. He falls onto your chest, and your heavy pants fill the room.

After awhile, Jungkook lazily pulls you to lay over him. "Okay, baby?"

"Mm," you murmur into his sweaty chest, trying to recollect your breath. You open your mouth to thank him, but a loud explosion takes your voice. In a second, waves of yellow wash the room, then blue, then purple. Your tiredness subdues into drowsy awe. You sit up and Jungkook does too, positioning you on his lap. "I think this is the second show. Timing is fitting don't you think?"

You giggle, and Jungkook sees daylight in your eyes. "Too fitting. I'm starting to think that this was all part of some big plan."

Jungkook rolls his eyes, laughing as he tucks a hair behind your ear. "Silly girl, of course it is." You look at him quizzically. "We're soulmates aren't we? The universe is just celebrating us."

You smile, sighing as you lean into his chest. "Whatever you say, my soulmate." Jungkook's eyes widen. He felt twelve again, dumbstruck euphoria overwhelming his love for you any time you called him yours. His shock settles into a soft smile, holding you in his arms while you watch the fireworks. It takes him awhile to realize your eyes are closed though.

"Sleepy, love? Thought you loved the fireworks."

"I do," you giggle, pushing him down onto the soft mattress. You snuggle into his chest. "Just listening to your heartbeat."

Jungkook blushes. He was going to urge you to clean up, but with you looking so cozy on top of him, he knew you'd much rather rest. He sighs lovingly, stroking your hair. He hasn't felt this happy in awhile. "About your payment, I’ll wire $800 just for tomorrow, but we’ll officially talk about the—"

“Shhhh!” You grumble, burying your head further into him. “Don’t wanna talk about money right now, just let me be with you.”

Jungkook blinks, and you look up to him with a pout. Purple lights up the seoul's night sky, casting an soft glow on Jungkook’s face. He chuckles, thumb brushing your cheeks.

"Needy girl.”

a/n : wooooo this took the longest time to write. its pretty bulky so whoevers got to this point i love you sosososo and i hope you enjoyed my work ! feedback is welcome and super appreciated, reading comments really do make my day <3 i was thinking of making a sequel/continuation for this but im not so sure ,, we'll see. anyways, i hope you have a lovely day my loves ! stay hydrated and healthy, i hope you eat good food today. make sure to take care of yourself too !

#jungkook au #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook #bts jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook x reader #bangtan sonyeondan #bts fic #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts jk #bangtan #bangtan boys #jungkook scenarios #jungkook friends to lovers #kim taehyung

[spencers-renaissance]

I turn and reach for you

Summary: Three months after Hankel, Spencer starts getting terrible nightmares that keep him up at night. He tries desperately to keep his secret until one day when it's all too much to bear anymore. Luckily, Derek Morgan is there to hold him together as he falls apart.

Tags: nightmares, hurt/comfort, ptsd, angst with a happy ending, fluff, literal sleeping together, getting together, post-revelations TW: past non-con drug use mentioned once in passing

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Spencer Reid

Word Count: 2.1k

Masterlist // Read on AO3 // Bad Things Happen Bingo

This feels the "Nightmares" square on my Bad Things Happen bingo card, and was written for this prompt by @i-write-whump. Title from a poem by Devon Strang.

After Spencer is kidnapped by Tobias Hankel, he stays with Derek. Nobody on the team wants him to be alone, and he’s always felt the most comfortable with him, so it makes sense. Besides, he’s got the space.

Spencer sometimes wonders whether the team pushed so hard for it because they genuinely believed that, logistically, Derek was the best option, or because they could also see the slow-burning romance simmering under the surface of their relationship. They’ve always had a special friendship, but Spencer can feel the growing tension: the deep and intense looks they share mid-case, the lingering touches on backs and arms, the affection leaking into each ‘pretty boy’ and every ‘Der’.

Perhaps if Hankel never came into the picture they’d already be together — it really had felt like they were on the precipice of something special — but it’s three months later and Spencer’s still sleeping in the spare room; there’s still just as much will they, won’t they lingering in the air between them.

He tries not to mind too much. After all, he’s never had so much free access to the man he’s pined after for years now, and they’re living in each other’s pockets. Almost every waking hour is spent in one another’s company: they cook together, eat together, watch films together, and neither of them are showing any sign of getting sick of it. But every time they’re cooking pasta and Derek says something ridiculous, Spencer wishes he was allowed to lean in and kiss the tip of his nose; every time they sit down to watch something together, he wishes he could burrow into his side and rest his head in the crook of his neck.

(Sometimes, Spencer wishes he could rewind to the weeks immediately after the Hankel incident when Derek would carry him around the flat to keep him off his broken feet; when he could press his face into his shoulder and inhale the scent of complete and utter safety.)

It’s almost torturous, being so close yet so far.

He isn’t quite sure why the nightmares start so late. The nights during the first couple of months are blissfully dreamless, so exhausted from the physical and emotional trauma that sleep was a tantalising escape, but once he’s back in the field, once normal life resumes, everything changes.

The first time he wakes up sweating and panting, heart pounding as he tries to convince himself that he’s no longer in Hankel’s clutches but is safe and sound in Derek’s apartment, he dismisses it as a one-off. He hasn’t had nightmares yet, so why should they start now? He doesn’t go back to sleep that night, too shaken to relax back into the comforting embrace of sleep, too afraid of deception: that he wouldn’t sleep dreamlessly but that the nightmare would be waiting for him once again.

The second time worries him. He gets up this time and gets a glass of water as quietly as possible, leaning with his back against the kitchen counter as he ponders what this could mean for him. The thing is, they’re so incredibly vivid. It really feels like he’s back at the mercy of a three-in-one torturer armed with drugs and belts and guns, genuinely unsure of whether he’ll ever see his family again. He doesn’t go back to sleep this time, either, instead pacing around the living room until Derek wakes up. He lies that he’s only been up for half an hour, and Derek believes him.

The third time solidifies for Spencer the fact that this is a problem. Three is a pattern, everybody knows that, and Spencer spends the rest of the night scouring the internet for studies conducted around delayed trauma responses and discovers the prevalence of delayed-onset PTSD. He’s tempted to contact a professor he met during his third PhD who specialised in the psychology of trauma, but he thinks better of it. Admitting these nightmares would be admitting defeat.

This is something he has to deal with alone.

(He ignores the truth that it’s more fear than anything else that keeps him from telling anyone: fear of being seen as weak, fear of nothing changing, fear of voicing his trauma out loud. It’s easier to pretend it’s about independent agency.)

It doesn’t affect him too much at first. Sure, he’s scared to go to sleep and he sweats so profusely that it soaks through his bedsheets almost every night, but he’s managing. He’s okay. He contributes just as much to their profiles and takes down unsubs without flinching. He dances around Derek like they have done for over a year, and he sits through Dr Who marathons with Penelope just fine. So what if he’s a bit tired? He’s stared down some of America’s Most Wanted and interviewed famous serial killers, he can cope with a little fatigue.

It doesn’t stay that easy for long.

Soon everybody’s asking about the bags under his eyes, his slower reaction times when they visit the gun range, his twitchiness around the team.

“Are you sleeping okay, Spencer?” Penelope asks him one day, brushing a curly lock of hair behind his ears as they sit side by side on the sofa next to a conked out Derek.

He can’t nod his head quick enough. “Yeah! Yes, uh. Yes, Penelope, I’m sleeping fine, I promise,” he says as convincingly as he can, flashing her a smile. He hates lying to her, but he can’t let anyone find out, he just can’t.

Slowly, he begins losing his grip on reality. He’s almost delusional from the sleep deprivation, and he starts seeing Hankel everywhere he goes. He’s stood behind the fridge door, in the foyer of the FBI Headquarters, in the toilets of a local police station, stood right behind the unsub they’re currently trying to talk down, goddamnit.

He’s beyond exhausted, but some nights he still refuses to sleep, too afraid of what awaits him in his dreams, too afraid of the fear he knows he’ll carry into the next day, too afraid of feeling weak again. Helpless. Completely and utterly without agency.

He sits up with his back against the headboard, the main light off but the lamp switched on, scrolling through as many scholarly articles as he can read in a night, drinking cup after cup of steaming black coffee. Most nights he makes it through till morning without sleeping a wink, but sometimes he can’t stop himself from drifting off The nightmares on those nights are the worst.

He isn’t okay and people are starting to notice. Everyone’s walking on eggshells around him right now, but he knows it won’t be long before Penelope organises an intervention that Hotch hosts and Derek directs. The worst part about it is that he feels like a trainwreck waiting to happen. He’s headed straight for complete and utter collapse, and the only possible way to stop the train in its tracks is to reach out and get help, the one thing he can’t get himself to do.

And he isn’t even really sure why.

It all comes to a head on a warm night in July. He’d fallen into bed that night deliberately, actually intending to sleep for once. The bone-deep tiredness had finally caught up to him and he didn’t even care that he was walking straight into the arms of Tobias Hankel, if it meant he got even an iota of refreshing sleep, then it would be worth it.

But he isn’t quite of the same mind when he wakes up at two in the morning like he does almost every night: soaked in sweat with his heart going a million beats per minute, with only one difference. Tonight, he’s crying.

Maybe it’s the emotional turmoil of the last few months catching up to him, or maybe it’s just the severity of this particular dream, but whatever it is, he can’t seem to stop even once he’s awake. Sobs wrack his shoulders as he cries miserably into the pillow, finally letting out the emotions he’s kept bottled up so tightly, and he’s almost wailing after a couple of minutes of anguish.

All he can think as he cries helplessly is how badly he wants Derek. He wants to be wrapped up in his strong and safe embrace, he wants to feel the movement of his soft goatee against his cheek, he wants to inhale the comforting scent of his sleep t-shirts, he wants the warmth and solace that only Derek Morgan can give him, and in that moment, emotionally distraught and so incredibly sleep-deprived, he decides to get it.

He stumbles out of his bedroom and down the hall, stopping once he reaches Derek’s door. He hesitates for only a second before he pushes it open slowly, allowing the light from the lamp they keep switched on in the hallway to gently illuminate the shadows of his bedroom.

“Spencer?” Derek asks groggily, immediately sitting up and wiping his eyes. “What’s wrong? Are you crying?”

At the acknowledgement of his tears, Spencer starts to cry harder, and as embarrassed as he feels, he can’t slow the steady stream of tears rolling down his face as he stands in the doorway like a child in their parents’ room.

“Spence,” Derek says again, gentle and sympathetic, “come here.” He lifts the duvet up and scooches over slightly as if to make room for him in his already spacious king-size bed.

He doesn’t need to be told twice, though, and he stumbles forward, collapsing into bed and wrapping himself around Derek instantly. His arms come up to circle Spencer’s waist, caressing him gently as he holds him close to his body, shushing him quietly.

“It’s okay, Spence,” he murmurs. “I’m here now, alright? We’re gonna fix whatever it is, I promise you. We’ll get through this. You’ll get through this.”

He lets himself cry and cry and cry until his tears are dried up and he’s hiccupping from the force of his sobs. He would feel terrible about the damp spot left on Derek’s t-shirt, but he simply doesn’t have the energy. Instead, he continues to lie there on Derek’s chest, listening to his softly spoken assurances and losing himself in the sensation of Derek’s fingertips caressing the skin of his waist.

After a couple of minutes of silence, interrupted only by the odd hiccup from Spencer’s tired lungs, Derek finally asks the question. “What was that all about, pretty boy?” he asks with a tenderness Spencer isn’t sure he’s ever heard before. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Been having nightmares,” Spencer whispers, keeping his eyes closed against Derek’s imploring gaze.

He feels Derek tense beneath him, his fingers briefly pausing before resuming their comforting patterns on his waist, and a heavy breath escapes his lips. “For how long?”

“Last couple of months,” he mumbles, and somehow another tear manages to escape Spencer’s screwed up eyes.

“Well,” Derek sighs, “I suppose that explains a lot. We’ve been so worried about you, Spencer. We had no idea what was going on but we could all see you withdrawing, and it wasn’t exactly a secret how exhausted you were.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry,” Derek says sadly. “I should’ve pushed harder to figure out what was going on with you. I’m so sorry you’ve had to deal with this all alone.”

“I didn’t know how to tell anyone,” Spencer says, suddenly desperate to explain as he shifts slightly to look Derek in the eye. “I was so scared and I didn’t want anyone to think that I was weak or I couldn’t do my job anymore, and I just didn’t know what to do.”

“I know, Spence,” Derek says soothingly, “but you’ve told me now, haven’t you? And I’m going to do everything I can to get you some help. We’ll fix this, baby. I promise you, I’m going to make sure you’re happy and healthy again if it’s the last thing I do, okay?”

Spencer sniffs a little, wiping tiredly at his eyes as he blinks up at the sincerity on Derek’s face. For the first time in far too long he manages a smile. “Okay.”

Derek runs a hand through his hair before dropping a kiss to the top of his head. “Do you want to sleep here tonight?”

Spencer’s smile widens and he buries his face in Derek’s chest again as his cheeks flush red. “Please.”

Months later, they’ll realise they never officially asked one another to be in an actual, exclusive relationship. Months later, they’ll know instinctively and with absolute certainty that this night was the night that changed everything for them, and exactly one year later, they’ll celebrate their first anniversary on that date.

Tonight, though, they sleep curled up next to one another in Derek’s bed, and although Spencer doesn’t fall into the same dreamless sleep he grew used to immediately after Hankel, for once he isn’t haunted by nightmares, but dreams inflected with hope for what the future holds for them, and he’ll take that over dreamlessness any day.

taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @lesbiantodds @suburban--gothic @strippersenseii @takeyourleap-of-faith @negativefouriq @makaylajadewrites @iamrenstark @livrere-blue @hotchseyebrows @enbyspencer @reidology @transhanniballecter @spencerspecifics @bau-gremlin @hotchedyke @tobias-hankel @ @marsjareau @garcias-bitch @oliverbrnch @im-autistic @anxious-enby @kuolonsyoja @reidreids @ropoto @thosecriminalminds (add yourself to my taglist)

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