#black sails lighting insanity moments

[rush-the-stars]

having insane thoughts about kaeya again i actually want to ruin his life sorry sorry sorry i want to beat him up. i hate him. (no i don’t). i blacked out and finished writing this.

pairing: kaeya x f!reader

cw: toxic dynamic. unhealthy relationship. arguing. slapping (reader to kaeya), fighting, biting, blood, hair pulling, wrestling, smut. no prep, rough sex. no protection. kaeya is a bit of a masochist. public sex? quickie. poor diluc :// sorry diluc :// i promise ill make it up to you and write a fic where kaeya almost catches you fucking the reader </3

***

kaeya ducks as the glass you threw at him sails over his head and shatters against the back wall.

diluc is going to kill him if you don't first.

he has to bite back the wild grin threatening to tear across his face as he pokes his head back up. you look furious, glare marring your pretty features, eyes aflame.

god, you look good.

"you son of a bitch–" you curse him and there's plenty of tables and chairs between the two of you so he feels relatively safe in his place across the room from you. because of the distance, you opt for another glass and lob it at him. again, he ducks, let's the glass shatter above his head and rain down in a flare of sparkling light that catches gold in the tavern.

"what the hell is going on up there?" he hears diluc call.

"i'm going to kill kaeya!" you holler back and this time, you clamber over the tables between you two to get to him.

he yelps in surprise, clambering up, but you lunge for him before he can get far. you both go tumbling backwards onto the wood floor, sparks of glass digging into his back and his arms as he wrestles with you. he gets out from under you briefly, until you knee him in the stomach.

a startled laugh barks out of him, a little broken, weak, as you tackle him again. get on top of him.

the slap that cracks across his cheek is enough to make him taste blood. you are a knight, after all, your hits pack heat.

a grin creeps across his face as he touches lightly at his lip, your hips coming down over his to sit on him, pin him down but–

you squeak in surprise now. face going furiously hot.

“are you seriously—?!” you hiss.

his hips flex a little and he presses up against the heat between your own legs.

“you’re sick!” you snarl, voice low and hot and kaeya can’t help the laugh he lets out again, dark and soft.

“c’mon,” he hums, “let’s rough house a little more.”

in one swift move, he shoves you off him and gets you under, flat on your back, legs hitched around his waist. you snap and twist and buck like a wild thing and he grits his teeth through his excited smile, wrestling with you.

it’s artless, it’s just bodies and brute force, shoving himself harder against you. deeper into you.

your struggles must be heard from below. you’re tucked away into a dark corner on the second level. diluc cannot see the two of you from this vantage point. still, he no doubt can hear.

“take your fighting out of my tavern!” diluc shouts.

“one second!” kaeya calls back, laughing again, when he manages to get one of your wrists pinned, “just need to show this little brat whose in charge.”

with renewed vigor, you thrash and turn. growling and grunting.

you kick now, flailing. and then your free hand swats at his face again, connects with another smack, but this time with a little less grace.

it gives you enough wiggle room, though, at least for a moment to get your bearings and turn him over onto his back again. his shoulder knocks into the leg of a table, which screeches and clatters on the wooden floor.

“bastard!” you curse at him, “stupid, lying—“

“i didn’t lie!” he protests, voice going high, amused and clearly enjoying this. especially as he presses his hips up again between your legs just to watch you tumble forward a bit and lose your balance.

your hand flattens against his chest to catch yourself and the angle opens you up to him more. he bites back a groan.

your face is hot, he can tell, hair a mess—wild thing that you are, your chest spills out of your top, onto his own chest. and you’re so warm, so soft on top of him, squirming with embarrassment and anger.

archons, you look good angry.

“fucking—dammit—kaeya—“ you bite out when he suddenly captures your waist in broad hands and drags your hips in a slow roll.

your fingers tighten in his shirt and he feels the faint bite of nails.

“kaeya!” diluc barks from below.

“hit me again,” he whispers.

“what?” you’re breathless.

“hit me again,” he says with a grin.

you hesitate, especially now that he’s got you distracted, that he’s got you in his lap like this. if you were in a private place, he’d already have you laid out, but there’s something thrilling about—

your hand cracks across his face again. this one stings so good that he does groan.

hopefully it sounds pained enough.

before he can even bring his head back from where it’d snapped to the side, you’re seizing his face with your hand and leaning down to kiss him.

this time he has to fight a dark, lewd groan. his eyes roll behind his shut lids, fluttering a little against your cheek.

to keep up the facade, kaeya reaches blindly for the legs of the table. when he finds it, he jostles it, rattles it to sound like there’s more commotion.

you’re grinding down hard onto him now, all on your own. good girl that you are, desperate thing that you are, he loves when you get like this.

you must taste his blood in your mouth when you suck on his bottom lip.

he pulls away, taking in your face, your eyes that are glazed with a simmering sort of lust.

he rolls you onto your back again and thank archons you don’t go easy. you don’t take anything lying down, he knows that, he thinks fondly.

you struggle with him again and in all your kicking, a chair topples over and clatters.

“whatever you two break up there, you’re paying for!” diluc hollers again.

but kaeya is too busy wrenching your pants down, panties coming all in one go and you gasp in shock, eyes going wide and terrified. it’s only enough to get you bare for him, caught around your thighs which are pressed tight and stuck together, so he throws both over one side of his hips.

“bill it to the knights of favonious!” kaeya calls back and there’s a wild edge to his voice, a glint in his eyes that only you can pull out of him.

he unbuckles his own pants just enough, frees himself, aching and so hard it hurts and hot. he grits his teeth when he fists himself, just to press the head up against your slick folds.

your nails bite into his chest.

“kaeya—“ you warn.

with his free hand he covers your mouth.

“bite my hand,” he whispers and before you can react at all, he pushes inside you with a rough flex of his hips and watches your face transform. your eyes nearly cross before they flutter shut, teeth sinking hard down into his palm.

the noise you make behind his palm is thankfully one that could be mistaken for pain. he grips your face hard. grips your waist so hard it’ll bruise. he pants, harsh, trying to get ahold of himself so he doesn’t rut into you like an animal.

although—

“shit—“ he curses, feeling your walls pathetically flutter around him, try to take him.

“i’d say i’m sorry, but i think you deserve this a little,” kaeya husks, leaning heavier into you as he snaps his hips against yours. he can feel how wet you are. how hot.

oh, he’s going to lose it, he knows—

“are you two done fighting?” diluc snaps, “are you going to clean up my tavern? customers will be here soon!”

kaeya reaches out blindly again to shove the table hard enough that it wobbles again, but this time, the glass that had been atop of it clatters uncertainly, before careening to the ground.

it shatters and you gasp in shock as the glass sparks against the two of you.

kaeya laughs wildly, fucking into you a little harder, rutting down, hardly leaving the hot clutch of your cunt.

“archons! are you two serious?!”

you pry his hand off your mouth finally and he realizes his palm is bloody with your teeth marks. your mouth is smeared with it.

“i fucking—“ you get out, —hate you.”

but your eyes are fluttering against your cheeks again and kaeya leans down to catch you in another brutal kiss, lodging himself deep inside you, hardly pulling out with deep, hard thrusts.

your hand tangles in his hair before sinking into a fist, curling hard to pull at the roots of his hair. he bites your lip, catching it between teeth until you yelp a little, until you pull harder.

your other hand claws at his shoulders, half-mauls him, even through his clothes.

“kaeya—“ your voice pitches a little. he knows that sound well.

“sshh,” he hushes, “ssh.” even as his hips don’t slow, breathing uneven, “are you close?”

he breathes it against your jaw, your throat that he then sinks his teeth into desperately.

you pull at his hair again, nodding dumbly, a whimper eeking out of your throat.

he can feel you—your walls tightening up, oh gods, his head is near spinning. heady. delirious with it. he’s lost to the feeling of it all, the quick burn of pain, the molten spark of pleasure. the risk of it all—

your body locks up, and you keen before kaeya’s hand comes up to cover your mouth again and muffle the sound.

he laughs again, quieter, breathless, in awe, as his hips grind desperately into your pulsing walls. sucking down on him. he’s not going to last, doesn’t think he should anyways because—

“i’m coming up there!” diluc warns, which means he must suspect something. kaeya’s heart pounds wildly.

he pushes deep inside you, shudders hard and this time, it’s your hand tightening across his mouth, other hand fisting his hair tight to hold him in place and keep his own moan, which in private would’ve been so desperate and lewd, down behind his teeth. behind your hand. the pressure in his gut snaps to release, expanding in a hot, shocking blaze throughout his body.

he comes hard, deep inside of you. he pants against your hand, only for a moment, before he hears footsteps at the bottom of the stairs.

both your eyes widen and in a flurry of limbs and movement, you’re both shucking your pants back into the right place and trying to right yourselves. kaeya is still twitching and sensitive with aftershocks—wishes he could’ve stayed deep inside you, wishes—

“i swear, if you two are—“

in a stroke of genius, you launch yourself at him again, sending him careening back into the glass. he mindlessly struggles, just as diluc rounds the stairs and sees the two of you.

still fighting, panting, faces perhaps a little too flushed.

diluc seems almost relieved to see it really had been fighting.

but then he sees the state of his poor tavern; the glass scattered around the floor, the chairs that have toppled over, and the two of you. a mess.

kaeya shoves you off of him.

“we’ll clean it,” he promises smoothly, lifting his hands to show defeat, only for diluc’s eyes to narrow on the bloody ring of teeth marks on his palm.

he glances over at you, with a glare still marring your pretty face. and a large love bite now blooming on your throat.

diluc looks weary, tired. and then he sighs heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“kaeya, pull up your fly. and both of you, get out of my tavern.”

kaeya glances down at his offending pants, only to see that diluc is correct—his fly is still down.

your face is mortified.

but kaeya throws his head back and laughs, hard enough that you sock him in the shoulder, bad enough bruise. and enough that diluc snaps again;

“i said get out!”

he hauls you up now and knows when it’s time to make himself scarce, pushing you down the stairs, where the two of you stumble, and out the door.

the sun simmers bronze as it begins to sink into early evening. the two of you must look like disasters in its brilliant light.

he zips up his fly with a crooked, lovestruck smile.

you shove him hard, cursing at him, and stomping away.

“i can’t stand you! what is your problem?” you snap, just as he catches up to you and wrestles you under his arm. you fight him a little, but he secures his bicep around your neck, pulling you tighter to him.

“i could ask the same of you, brat. you’re the one who started this.”

you stop fighting so fitfully, going slack enough that you just lean into his side as you walk together. beneath his arm.

“my problem is you,” you grouse.

“uh huh,” he agrees, and then asks innocently, “not the mess i left ins—“

you elbow him hard enough in the stomach that he doubles over with it, wind knocked out of him. but he laughs again, even as you storm off—

and he laughs even harder when he picks his head up, light from the sun catching across his face, because he knows where you’re headed. he knows where you’ll be, where you’ll always go, no matter how mad and waspish you pretend to be, no matter how bad your bite or your bark.

and archons, he’d have it no other way but this.

because you’re headed to his place—just as you always are.

#kaeya alberich x reader #kaeya x reader #kaeya alberich x you #kaeya x you #kaeya alberich x y/n #kaeya x y/n #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin impact x y/n #cielo writes! #drabbles!

[critical-derolo]

Starlight twinkles softly above them as they drift through the low looming clouds of the night sky. Being up here, on the sky ship, it's the closest to peace most of them have ever - maybe will ever come to. The world down below, and its problems, cannot reach them up here. There is nothing but fresh air, a gentle light, and each other.

Orym sleeps out here most often, of course. The little Air Ashari would logically feel more at home up here than down below, so it naturally makes sense that he would sleep in such freedom as well. Laudna likes it, too, though, and steps outside in the dead of night as often as she can. When her sorcerer sleeps calmly, no wrinkle in her brow, her jaw unclenched. When the moon leaves her alone.

It's soothing, for the dead woman. It quiets the silence in her head that is so roaringly loud most days she cannot think clearly. Insanity, she's come to find, is just another word for noise. Far too much noise.

Tranquility is the exquisite lullaby of a softly whirring engine of a sky ship. The creak of wood shifting on air currents. The flap of sails catching a breeze. If they spent the rest of their days up here, Laudna would be more than happy. "Do you miss Dorian?"

"Oh, jeez!" Orym gasps, his entire tiny frame freezing in a moment before relaxing again. A small hand clutches his chest over his heart. "I didn't think you noticed me."

"Some part of me notices everything," Laudna replies ominously, her dark gaze never straying from the hazy clouds around them. "The rest of me just usually does not."

"Yes," he agrees. Or answers. The halfling climbs up onto a barrel of... something, he can't actually remember if anyone told him what is in it. Maybe just water? All the same, he gets comfortable closer to his companions, jerking his chin to a sleeping Imogen. "How's she doing?"

Finally, Laudna stirs. Her thin, pale lips tug up in the corner - the shadow of a beautiful smile. Beautiful. Like Imogen has always claimed, like Lady Vex'ahlia agreed. He can see it now, beyond the scary. Or within it. "She's sleeping well," Laudna says in a voice just as soft. Her long fingers brush a purple lock of hair from Imogen's face, tucking it behind her ear before plucking the thin blanket higher up over the girl's shoulder. Tucked into Laudna's side and lap, she could not look comfier, and Orym suddenly feels like he's intruding. "Do you miss Will?"

"Every day," he replies without missing a beat. "Do you miss Delilah?"

Laudna blinks and her smile turns bittersweet.

They have strange conversations, he realizes. When they're alone. He gains access to a very different Laudna than he's seen with the others, something softer, something deeper, something darker and more hopeful. Or scared. Hope and fear are a breath away from each other - maybe it's the breath that defines them. "It was bad but I don't think it's the worst thing that's ever happened to you."

Those black eyes slowly raise to meet his and he can see the gears turning, thoughts lacing together and forming a sharp lattice. How Imogen doesn't get cut on it, he has no idea, and wonders if Laudna softens for her or if she softens Laudna. Either way, on her own, in this moment, Orym can see the echo of Delilah on her face. "I realized that too late."

"We'll keep her safe," he promises.

Her head tilts just a little too far, some of that horror seeping back into her person. When she opens her mouth, she snaps it shut immediately and relaxes her pose. The darkness pulls back and, like the moon peeking out from behind a cloud, Laudna's kindness seeps into the space between them. "I know you'll do your best, Orym," she says in that lilting voice of hers. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For scaring you."

"You don't," he insists and she blinks again. He smiles and glances off the side of the boat. "Not anymore, Spooky. I'm sorry."

"For what?" she echoes.

"For being a mirror." His little fingers twist in the air, a soft mossy green glow between them until tulip petals fall. Drift to the floor of the ship, through the air, trailing off into the sky. "Or my bad timing. I keep popping up in your quiet moments."

"Like a bad penny," she agrees with the warmest smile he's seen all night. "I like that."

"Do you?"

"It scares the others in a different way, in the same way Will scares them around you," she explains. "I would love to talk about Will."

It's sharp in his chest, like a jagged piece of glass that moves each time he breathes. But with the agony comes a subtle, almost intoxicating relief.

Taking a deep breath, Orym settles in more officially. His gaze swoops between the two women, the way their hands remain clasped even as Imogen sleeps, and remembers the many mornings he woke up with Will's hand in his. "He loved the night."

#critical role #laudna #orym #imogen #imodna if you look closely #im having the longest case of writer's block #trying to push through it

[anbroids]

your dirkjake playlist…………………. i need more

oh my god. oh my god. you have no idea what you're asking for because the thing is i will just start going insane in my reply to this.

more dirkjake songs that rattle in the cages of my mind below

Dirt on your fingernails, blood on your knees But did that ever make you happy? I think you were my best friend, gentle, do not apprehend I know it hasn't been a dream, but if you pardon, I will mend Drunk in a parking lot, just after three Tearin' out your hair like a banshee Lighter and a safety pin, light the end, burn to skin I'll stick to you forever, 'cause this scar, I think is permanent Falling off the edge with you It was too good to be true Pin, Grimes

likeeeee ooougugohugohuhh forgive me for grimesposting but everything about this. we are best friends and insane and we tried to make it work and failed but we'll try again because no one understands us but each other so i'm falling off the edge with you. bonus points for all the lyrical imagery about wrestling with each other like it just works. this is the #1 dirkjake song for me *blows up*

ok i will list a few others and restrain from heavy explanation (me when i'm lying)

Everything is simple 'til it's not Learned to love the ropes when you were caught See they could be braided a different way And sinking into nothing, you learn to stay Singers tend to hide the truth Or you hear it, if it speaks to you What do you expect, it serves them well To edit anything that's fit to tell I'm no better and I'm no worse I'm still around but it's a curse And you'll just do the best you can And time will call you a good man Everything is Simple, Widowspeak

love the part about lying by omission. something something jake english and self preservation. everything is simple until it's not! those last couple of lines.................... oh my god. do i even need to explain. im no better and i'm no worse i'm still around but it's a curse

Asking you what's on your mind Can't tell if you're quiet or tired Staying up all night to find out What's left to find out If the sun comes up, we'll know Baby, there ain't no clouds Baby, there ain't no crying Or figuring this thing out Or really, really trying to You've gotta tell me how you feel I've gotta tell you how I feel Optimism, Jana Horn

this one is soooooo dirkjake during their session aaauauaauuughhhhh isolation and pain and being unable to communicate yup yup yup

I made it to a dinner date My teardrops seasoned every plate I tried to dance but lost my nerve I cramped up in the learning curve I'm a tulip in a cup I stand no chance of growing up I'm resigned to sail on through In the wake of tales of you I root for you, I love you Valentine, Fiona Apple

young and flawed adolescent love you can't grow out of yeah. dirkjake epilogues enough said!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

No matter which way you go No matter which way you stay You're out of my mind, out of my mind Out of my mind, out of my mind I was walking with a ghost I said please, please don't insist Walking with a Ghost, Tegan and Sara

it would be corny if i took any time to explain this one. it's about a ghost you can't exorcise that lives in your mind

So much comin' in I do not know where to begin I just follow the lead you're pulling And I get lost in your trail So much more to tell You just ask me if I'm doing well But I do not know what the hell I just swallow hard And I wake up in a cold sweat on your ceiling Terrified of what your love's revealing Black Diamonds, Big Thief

me whenever i hear any song about how love is frightening and confusing and it exposes things about yourself you don't know how to cope with: haha dirkjake moment

*edit oh my god how could i forget this one. the dirk strider song to end them all. i must sneak this corny one into the mix. it needs no explanation

#clearly i am soooo normal about them #ask #dirkjake #jake english #dirk strider #text #music

[gmgray]

This feeling of hunting sveltnas was much like what Colin imagined the ancient people of Earth experienced hunting whales. The Esper was larger than the umiaqs and whaleboats once used to pursue the cetaceans of Earth, but this submersible was at a depth well below one thousand meters. And however powerful its harpoons, such weapons did little more than hook into the sveltnas’ scaly armor. For the next few hours, the Esper would could do nothing but cling to their prey to keep the leviathan from diving deeper.

“We gotta hold tight till the other ships in the fleet reach us,” Valtra said, softly as if only for Colin’s ears. The rest of the Esper’s crew was busy handling Nina’s shouted orders, and none of them had additional attention to spare for Colin. “They’ll help reel her in.”

Holding tight was pure agony. The whole ship was shaking, and the Esper’s engines whined as if they were on the verge of failure. Colin felt his teeth rattle against his skull, and the nausea from earlier felt downright pleasant compared to these new sensations of dizziness and whiplash as his body slammed repeatedly against the harness.

The Esper must have deployed a set of drones into the icy waters, because a series of video feeds appeared on the monitors above the deck. At these depths, even the yellow of Earth’s sun would have faded, much less the red light of QB Beta, so most of the feeds showed nothing but inky blackness, illuminated only by the camera’s light. Yet every now and then, something impossibly large and serpentine came into view if only for a moment. As the drones closed in, these glimpses grew more and more consistent until the creature became visible.

It was hard to estimate size at these depths, but the sveltnas was truly gargantuan. It sailed through the water with effortlessness despite the harpoon lodged in its side. Bioluminescent patterns danced along its flanks and belly, and its long, serrated dorsal fin cut a ragged line through the water. The fins of its tail flicked, seemingly in slow motion, but every time it surged back and forth, the fleet of drones went tumbling, their cameras losing focus for a moment before the autonomous vehicles compensated against the currents.

Despite everything — the wooziness, the pain in his muscles, the sheer discomfort of this miserable tin can vessel — Colin couldn’t help a gasp of awe. Earth had plenty of legends about dragons, but Colin had never imagined he’d encounter one in real life. For all of Earth’s biodiversity, for all of Colin’s travels beyond the solar system and across the galaxy, he’d never seen anything like this. Before them was not a fish, but a god, soaring through the black depths of her icy domain. Chasing after such a creature was insanity. It was no wonder only children of Shark Ancestor dared to fight for survival in this dark, unforgiving kingdom.

The harpooner shouted something, before a new set of warning sirens went off. Colin glanced at Valtra, and her face, previously frozen in a fierce smile of the hunt, turned grim.

“She’s diving,” Valtra explained in United Pyrean. “Depending on how fast the other ships get here, the harpoon may not hold.”

Colin’s heart pounded in his ears. This was a life and death battle — not only for the sveltnas and the crew, but for him as well. If the Esper succeeded, the sveltnas would die. If the Esper failed, her whole crew would be lost.

As if in response to these thoughts, the warning sirens grew more shrill, and the whole vessel started to shake with increased urgency. A number of crew members shouted readouts from their terminals, but Nina’s voice cut through the din. Even without knowing the words, Colin heard the clear, cold orders in her tone.

#triple strike #book 3 snippet #call me ishmael

[ahungeringknife]

365: February 23

Yeap went a bit insane about Lemp and Anceion for a week or so. Rotating in my brain like rotisserie chicken

--

Now that the storms had faded and the fury sated Anceion looked down at his heap of a brother blackened by the wrath of the sun, body broken as the scorched earth he had been cast onto. Anceion was not without his own injury but even the paltry wounds did little to mar his radiant golden skin. “I think that’s quite enough,” Anceion proclaimed.

“You’re such a useless brute,” Lemp groaned from the ground which never ceased to inflame Anceion’s fury. As mangled bones and body cracked and snapped back into place the black ash flaked and cracked off his silver skin. “Mother would be so disappointed,” his golden eye looked at Anceion through wild silver hair.

A lance of pure white hot magic ripped itself through the sky and slammed into Lemp’s body. The god didn’t even yell out as his skin was blistered and flayed from his body from the extreme heat. When Anceion dispelled the magic Lemp was unmoving and after a moment made a soft, pained, groan.

“Yield,” Anceion said.

Lemp said nothing and pushed himself up to his feet, the black ash cracking off his body like a shadow. He pushed back his long silver hair from his face. Anceion still resented how much more he looked like mother than Ancieon did. Like she’d done it on purpose. “And let you go it alone? No, I don’t think so,” Lemp said and the next Anceion knew was his brother had an arm over his shoulder. “I think you very much need to calm yourself,” and he patted Anceion’s chest and he felt his heart starting to stutter and strain. “Mother knew you’d make a mess of things if left to your own devices.”

Anceion shoved Lemp off him and when a radiant beam came down on Lemp again he just raised his arm to deflect it. “I don’t need the help. Never have,” Anceion spat.

“Ah yes, because you’ve done such a great job since she’s been gone,” Lemp said and waved his other hand to indicate the landscape around them. It was barren. Desolate. Just like the rest of the planet.

“Because you wouldn’t leave me to the work,” Anceion snarled.

“It is also my work,” Lemp said tiredly.

That infuriated Anceion and the radiant beam’s power increased forcing Lemp to his knees even as he held it back with his arm. Anceion was first born. It was his work. “I’m stronger than you, just stop,” Anceion said.

“Only in the light, brother. And you always pick your petty battles when you are radiant,” Lemp said but was straining under the weight of godly power bearing down on him. Where the magic was being deflected it was melting the land, turning it into lava and plasma spitting and hissing as it came to life. Then Lemp looked at him with golden eyes that Anceion always hated. “If you really want me to stop you’ll have to actually kill me. If you can even do that without fucking it up,” he said in quiet reservation.

The magic lance ceased. Magic couldn’t kill a god. Only a personal assault would do. Anceion formed a perfect golden rod with a bludgeoning club at the end. “Fine,” he said through clenched jaw.

Lemp went sailing the first time Anceion struck him across the head with the club, skidding on the cracked dirt before with a groan trying to get to his feet again. Anceion walked over to him and hit him again. And again. And again. Lemp curled into a ball, protecting his head. Anceion got on top of him and wrestled his hands away from his head.

But all the blood drained out of Anceion’s body when he heard Lemp scream for the very first time as he drove the end of the club down into his face. For all their fighting Lemp rarely fought back and other than grunts or groaned never showed any signs of pain. Of course not. He was a god. But hearing his brother scream made Anceion freeze as everything inside of him went cold. Above them one of the moons had exploded. Lemp writhed on the ground under him and Anceion realized what he’d really been about to do. He’d been so blinded by jealousy and anger about… what? That mother had given him a brother?

He cast aside the club and Lemp was clutching one side of his face still howling in agony. “What did I do?” Anceion asked himself softly looking down at Lemp as black blue blood poured from one side of Lemp’s face. It was something he couldn’t heal himself and that was a cold hand around Anceion’s heart. “Lemp,” and he pressed a golden hand to the side of his brother’s silver face. Lemp was never the healer, Anceion always was. He could feel that his left eye was completely ruptured and destroyed as was some of the socket with a huge crack in the back from Anceion smashing the end of the club through it.

Lemp’s noises of pain petered out as Anceion healed him until he was just breathing hard, his silver skin covered in sweat for the first time in exertion and trauma. “Anceion,” he groaned.

“I’m sorry,” Anceion bemoaned.

Lemp removed his hand from his eye and while Anceion had healed everything the eye was still gone and hung uselessly out of its socket. “My eye is gone,” he said, other golden eye wide in fear. “My eye is gone,” he said again and it sank right into Anceion’s heart.

This was his fault. Now that his brother was so permanently wounded he realized he hadn’t really wanted Lemp dead. He just wanted to be trusted with the work without Lemp over his shoulder at every moment. But wasn’t that what he was supposed to do? Lemp said the work was also his and Anceion knew it to be true. “It’s alright, brother,” Anceion said gently.

Lemp looked up at the sky and pointed. “One of my moons,” he said and Anceion finally looked up at the exploded moon. It was already starting to drift around the world in pieces. “Anceion my eye- my moon,” but he didn’t even sound like he blamed Anceion. He just sounded stunned. “How am I going to keep watch in the dark without both my eyes?” he asked softly. “Mother said I needed to be the watcher at night,” and he sounded heart broken he’d failed their mother. Anceion felt that as his own failure. He’d done this.

“It’s alright, brother,” Anceion said already knowing what there was to be done.

Lemp looked at him. “Are you done trying to kill me, Anceion?”

“Yes,” Anceion said with a heavy voice and leaned over him, hugging him. “I’m so sorry.” Lemp hugged him back. “I’ll fix it. I swear I’ll fix it.”

“I think you’ve done enough,” Lemp said and it was a blistered fist around his heart. “Thankfully you’re such a fuck up, couldn’t even kill me properly,” he coughed out and Anceion couldn’t even find the rage in him. Lemp was right. And thank mother he hadn’t actually killed Lemp.

“No. I will fix it,” Anceion said and sat up looking down at his brother’s destroyed eye. He placed his palm on the destroyed socket but not to mend it. There was no mending it. Instead he used magic to cleanse and prepare it. Lemp just winced with his other eye in discomfort.

“Anceion you don’t have to. I could do it,” Lemp said.

“Shut up,” Anceion snapped. “For once in your miserable life listen to me.”

Lemp sighed and shrugged. “Whatever you say, brother.” Once the socket was prepared Anceion didn’t hesitate and tore out his own left eye.

Lemp grabbed his arm. “What are you doing, fool?” he demanded.

“Shut up,” Anceion growled as black blue blood spilled down his face and for a moment they wore the same scar. Anceion pushed Lemp’s hand away and fit his own silver eye into Lemp’s socket. Above them the light of the suns felt a bit less intense and Anceion felt it strongly. The light was less than it had been a moment ago.

Lemp blinked his eyes up at Anceion, one gold their mother had given him, and one silver Anceion had. Anceion knew it was a perfect fit, a perfect transplant because whatever Lemp wanted to say Anceion did nothing in half measures. “Brother— you didn’t have to do that,” Lemp said softly.

“No. I did,” Anceion said and finally picked himself up off Lemp. When he looked up at the sky there was still only one moon and the other was starting to stretch across the sky as a ring. It would be some time before it was a proper ring though. And the two suns were different too. Gone were the two white blue suns that had matched Anceion’s eyes. Now only one remained and the other burned cold but still bright enough to see from this world as a sort of strange brown-purple color against the bright sky. This was the cost of his mistakes and his anger.

With a sigh Anceion put his hand over his left eye and cleaned it up but there was no remaking a god’s eye unless mother came back. And she wouldn’t be back. She wouldn’t come back. He let golden skin grow over the hole in his face before walking off.

“Anceion, where are you going?” Lemp called after him.

“To do the work,” Anceion called back, like he should have this entire time and not bickering over who deserved to do it with his brother.

He heard Lemp scramble to his feet. “Well wait for me,” he said and caught up with Anceion quickly. “We’ll do it together, just like mother wanted us to,” he said and smiled.

“I suppose,” Anceion allowed and Lemp put his arm over his shoulder as they walked off.

#365 #writeblr #writblr #original fiction #original fantasy

[strawbean]

Little Something

Featuring: Kazuha, Albedo, Gorou x GN!Reader (separate)

Content Warning: NSFW

You decided to put something on for them, how much do they enjoy it?

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.

Kazuha

It was a see-through white set, accompanied with a flowy white robe. Small red bows littered the light outfit you had, you thought that Kazuha would definitely love it.

He wouldn’t be too surprised or your actions, he sensed the anticipation you felt the whole day while sailing back to Liyue for a few days. Either way, it would always leave him speechless and how lovely you looked.

He’ll tell you that words cannot describe how he feels, he’ll close the distance and start showing you instead, giving light kisses on your neck.

Kazuha will insist on you wearing his outfit while fucking, giving you the small impression of possessiveness coming from him, it seemed to drive him insane.

Having you ride him will give him the best view, even if nothing sexual comes out of it, he loves just having you on his lap while tracing small patterns on your skin.

He’ll have his head at your neck, marking whatever space he was able to reach. If not, it’ll be your chest.

Albedo

A pretty cream coloured set with golden accents in the form of sewed on flowers, garters wrapped around your thighs attached to thigh-high stockings.

Will not be able to concentrate for a moment, and then will immediately take out his notebook and have you place yourself on the bed.

Some sketches will be innocent enough; laying on your side, on your knees while leaning forward. But there will be times where he’ll have you touch yourself while he quickly sketches your reactions.

I feel as if mutual masturbation will take place sometimes, he’ll have one hand sketching while using the other on himself.

Albedo will make you feel good, such a nice surprise shouldn’t go to waste, afterall.

His hands would toy with you before he could get any pleasure, his way of thanking you. He especially would love to keep the garments on but pushed away from your chest and private areas.

Gorou

A teal coloured set with a pretty black lace choker, the top being see-through with the bottom having an opening. You had a thick black robe to hide yourself with.

When he sees you in that set, or any that you have, he’ll feel a sense of pride. You, someone that he dearly loves and cherished, trusting him enough to show yourself like this to him? Instant appreciation.

Showers you in compliments, he will stutter at the beginning though. He won’t be able to keep his hands off of you too.

Will spend so much time between your legs, just pleasuring you while touching the lace outfit. Loves it too much for you to take it off so he’ll have you keep it on the whole time.

He may remove the top though, he just loves sucking on your nipples. Nothing too hard, but he will leave little marks around them and gently bite at it.

He’ll be a lot more vocal, just lots of moans and compliments thrown out about how you make him feel good and how pretty you look.

If you compliment back he’ll go insane, rutting into you faster than before.

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.

Masterlist

#gorou x reader #kazuha x reader #albedo x reader #genshin x reader #genshin fanfic #genshin gorou x reader #genshin kazuha x reader #genshin albedo x reader

[greenorangevioletgrass]

make me feel (h.o.)

masterlist | ko-fi?

pairing: pornstar!harrison osterfield x pornstar!reader

summary: Harrison and Y/N has undeniable chemistry onscreen and off. The question is, how long will they deny such connection and convince everyone that they're just friends?

word count: 4,558

warnings: pornstar!au, friends to lovers, language, drinking, banter, mention of douching & anal, smut! [pegging, praise kink, cross-dressing, dirty talk, slight daddy kink, fingering, unprotected sex, oral (f)]

song inspo: Janelle Monae - Make Me Feel, Damon Daunno & Rebecca Naomi Jones - People Will Say We're In Love, Tom Waits - Midnight Lullaby, James Vincent McMorrow - One Thousand Times, Taylor Swift - False God

notes: finally coming out of my writer's block with this one woohoo! i've been working on this since may, like that's insane??? im pretty happy with how it turns out lol. big thanks to @shipping-not-sailing and @tommysparker who put up with my bullshit brainstorm, and shoutout to @marvelouspeterparker for making a CRAZY pornstar!au fic with tom that inspired me to do this one. happy reading!

***

Y/N has said it before and she would gladly say it again.

Harrison Osterfield is one hell of a fucking sight to behold.

Writhing underneath her as she rocks her hips against his, his statuesque features come to life —cherry red lips hanging open, making way for moans of pleasure to escape him. The veins on his neck, popping out from underneath his black collar necklace. His fingers around her wrists, statement rings against her bare hands.

His eyes, more blue than green today, peering back and forth; to the sleek black strap-on sliding in and out of him, and to the person it’s attached to.

Y/N, in all her glory, wrapped in a lacy bra and a harness around her hips.

“Baby…” She cups his face with one hand. "S'that feel good?"

He catches her eyes and nods, his sparkling galaxy fingernails digging into her hips, wordlessly beckoning her to come closer. Deeper.

Faster.

But instead, she slows down. She pulls nearly all the way back, leaving only the tip of the strap-on inside him. "Use your words."

Harrison lets out a whimper, rose gold and dark bronze eyelids fluttering, struggling to stay open. Peering at her through his mascara-laden lashes.

"God, you're so pretty…" Y/N beams, for a moment simply admiring the view underneath her. Head empty, except for the thought she said out loud. And soon her body moves on its own accord, lips closing in on his. Hips thrusting in and out of him. Enrapturing him in all of her.

For a moment, alone together.

“CUT!” Elena, the director, calls out, and the whole set comes to life. Camera and boom operators stretching their arms and artistic team adjusting the set and people generally crossing over.

"That was beautiful, darlings. Let's move onto the next shot and— I really liked when you just gaze at each other for a bit there," Elena compliments as she walks over. Then, turning towards her director of photography, she says, "Can we keep that for the next shot?"

The two stars of the show blend into the busy set just as quickly as they become the center of its attention. It’s a nice little break among the adjustments of the lighting and camera and everything.

"Hold up, I need to stretch my legs a bit," Y/N sets off to straighten up.

Harrison's hand flies up to her hip almost immediately. "Slowly, slowly, slowly—" his quiet warning is cut off with a sigh as she unsheathes the strap-on from him, as gentle as she can be.

She settles opposite him, both casual and comfortable in their state of undress, drawing soothing circles on his lace stocking-clad ankle next to her.

“So I finally tried marinating my steak with pineapple like you said!” he pipes up, “It’s game-changing, Y/N.”

“I know, right? You’re welcome, by the way.” she flashes a cocky grin his way. “How long did you marinate it?”

“The whole day. Did it first thing in the morning, and then seared it for dinner.”

“Nice!”

“It's so tender and rich and God, I’m starving.” he muses, tucking an arm behind his head.

“You wanna grab a bite after this?”

“Fuck yes!” he reaches her calf, moaning almost as obscenely as he does during his scene.

It makes her laugh. “We can try that restaurant near—”

“Alright, everyone! Next shot. Harrison, Y/N, can we go back to your marks, please?” Elena turns to them, patting the latter’s shoulder on her way back to the monitor.

“Yeah— can we have some more lube, though?” Y/N motions at the production assistant, who promptly hands her a bottle.

It’s a strange lull, watching someone putting on a generous amount of lube for him while another person hovers around for that bottle, but Harrison simply smiles unabashedly at that girl. “Aw, you didn’t have to.”

“But I want to,” she simply shrugs, handing the bottle back to the unassuming PA, who scurries back as quickly as she arrives. Then, Y/N returns to her initial position on top of him and says, jokingly, “Gotta treat my princess right, don’t I?”

But in that exact moment, she feels his cock flexing in excitement. He looks up to find his gaze darken at the pet name. “Fuck’s sake, Y/N…” he turns away to his the blush in his cheeks.

“You got a fine taste, Harrison.” she nods in approval, pleasantly surprised at this revelation, her signature smile taking over her entire beautiful face once more. “Ready?”

The hustle and bustle quiets down and with it, time slows down, too. The call of camera rolling and slate clapping takes her mind into a different headspace. Her body relaxes, readies itself. For the scene. For the sex.

“ACTION!”

He takes her in with an arch of his back, savoring every inch. Gosh, he’s so tight, she swears she could feel him gripping from inside her.

It’s a performance, yes, but it’s also awfully intimate. Like drawing the curtains on the deepest part of herself. And Harrison gives as much of himself as she does hers; she likes that about him. Always equally as vulnerable. Familiarly so.

He is, arguably, the best scene partner she’s ever had.

Even when the novelty has worn off, and the sensation starts to dull out of exertion, there’s still that sizzling connection between them that makes them so fun to watch. It’s not always in the motion of their hips (although it is one of the things driving him crazy at this instant.) Sometimes it’s in the glide of her thumb over his lips, or the way he chases her kisses and traces his mouth anywhere he can, ever so tenderly. A breath of fresh air in the midst of the heat.

Right now, her hand is closed in on Harrison's cock, stroking and pounding into him as he ruts back against her. Among the haze, he opens his eyes to gaze at her, pleading,

"Please, I wanna cum… Daddy..." he whimpers. His eyebrows knot in anticipation —and maybe nerves, since he's going off-script with yet another kink.

But Y/N smiles, her quickening pace a stark contrast to her soothing whispers. "Let go, baby. I got you. Daddy’s got you…"

He sprays his hot mess all over his heaving chest with a breathless moan, his ass gripping her strap-on like a vice. She takes her time lapping up his cum and making her way to his lips with soft kisses, making him giggle hazily.

He finds her lips, indulging in his own taste and how her tongue makes it sweeter. For the longest time, they just stay there; hands in each other's hair, catching their breath in kisses after kisses after kisses… until they part and fall back to the soft surface of the bed, blissfully sated.

"And cut,” Elena says softly, definitively. "That's a wrap for the day, people! Wonderful job!"

It's only then that she remembers the presence of twelve other people in the room with them, applauding and cheering for a job well done. Harrison sits up first, bashfully bowing before lightly elbowing her. Y/N nods graciously at everyone else and applauds right back at them.

The PA scurries back around, this time with some wet wipes and bath robes, and the two of them go on about their own business, cleaning up and going back to their respective dressing rooms, exchanging congratulatory pats on the back with the crew on their way.

Y/N is chatting with Elena when Harrison pops up at her open dressing room door. "Hey. You ready to go?"

"Yeah, I'll be out in a minute." she flashes a brief smile her director's way, and then looks back at him. "We're still up for some food, right?"

"'Course! I'm dying for some proper food," he groans dramatically, sauntering in. "Anyway. I'll see you outside and I'll see you tomorrow, Boss."

"Ciao, bello." Elena gives him a quick hug and kiss on the cheek, seeing him out of the room. As soon as he's out of earshot, she turns back to her actress. "You two are so cute."

"We're friends," Y/N rolls her eyes, here we go again. It’s quite surprising how, in an industry where friendships among fellow sex workers are so normalized, they’re not exempt to the light teasing. "Really, really good friends."

"Right..." she replies dubiously.

Y/N absently applies her lip gloss, a ghost of a curious smile creeping up on her face. "What?"

Elena rolls her eyes in relent. "I mean, you know me. I don't do those male gaze-y Gonzo porn. I'm all about sensuality and connection and… I'm just saying," she shrugs, "the chemistry doesn't lie."

"Well," Y/N stands up to bid her farewell, "If it gets you to keep working with us, then we'll keep that chemistry alive, how 'bout that?"

"Such a charmer," Elena shakes her head, laughing. "Go. Your good friend is waiting for you."

She can say that it’s all in day’s work until she foams at the mouth, but all signs point the other direction. The bleak grey London scenery is nowhere to be seen; instead, the golden Roman sunset barely peeks over the rows and rows of centuries-old buildings. And leaning against the lamppost, her so-called good friend is casually checking his phone.

He looks up at her and his handsome features light up, gesturing at his watch as he hurries her. “Hey, come on! Mamma mia, spaghetti carbonara! Vamonos.”

"That’s Spanish and… you’re on your own, pal," she deadpans, turning to walk the other way.

He catches her arm, of course. "Oh no, I’m not. You're not gonna leave me to eat alone like a sad English bastard, are you?"

"But you are a sad English bastard, my darling.”

"Mean." he pouts, and he knows how powerful his puppy dog eyes can be. "Besides, I had a gummy bear diet for a whole 24 hours for you. Shoot water up my ass clean for you! The least you can do is wine and dine me, Y/N."

She bursts out laughing —partly at his dramatic recount of his 'sacrifices', and partly at the idea that this is more than what it is. Two very good friends, who do not shy away from gross conversations, letting off steam after work.

Nothing more.

***

“God, that hit the spot…” Y/N sighs as she takes a bite of her tiramisu, following a hearty spaghetti carbonara as their main course (Harrison was not kidding when he uttered that word so passionately earlier.)

Harrison looks up from his now-empty glass of wine with a cheeky smile. “That’s what she said!”

“Having fun, are we?” She teases him good-naturedly.

“I mean, I could definitely get used to this,” he gestures all around him, “We’re doing something cool and artsy for a change, we’re in Rome…”

“Bumming my dessert…” she stiffly points out as she swats his hand away, although he’s already taken a generous amount of her cake in his spoon.

“Exactly! The desserts here are amazing and I just—” he purposely ignores her and puts the stolen spoonful into his mouth. “What a life, you know?”

She glares at him, although the smile she bites back says otherwise. “You’re just saying that ‘cause I’m buying you dinner.” she finishes her dessert before he beats her to the final bite.

But she gets what he means; it was a truly good day at work, where they got to play dressup and do something experimental and incredibly sensual with a female-led crew. And to do that with one’s most trusted scene partner is… wonderful.

“Would you and your beautiful wife like some more wine, Signore?” their waiter, a friendly middle-aged man, offers.

The pair exchange looks —a pause, and then they burst into laughter.

“No, no, no. We’re not—” Y/N chortles, too caught up to continue.

The waiter looks at her in confusion. “No to the wine or the… wife thing, Signora?”

“Oh, we’re not together, sir.” Harrison clears his throat and smiles politely, “As for the wine… what do you think, love?”

“I think we’re good. Early day at work tomorrow, remember?” she eyes him pointedly. Then, she looks to the waiter, “Can we have the check, please? Thank you.”

The waiter nods, walking away from this peculiar pair at the windowside table of this little restaurant, tucked away in one tiny corner of the city. He comes back with the check a moment later, still quite adamant on offering another bottle of Chianti to go.

Y/N shakes her head, much more composed now. “Grazie mille. The food was…” she makes a chef’s kiss gesture as she links her arm with Harrison’s on her way out.

“I’ve never seen someone openly shipping us so hard,” she muses as they enter their hotel lobby, just across the street.

“Do you think he recognized us?”

“I don’t think so. He doesn’t have ‘that look’, you know?”

“Ah, yes.” Harrison grins knowingly.

It doesn’t happen very often, but every now and again someone might clock them from their films or OnlyFans and they have this ‘I-can’t-believe-you’re-a-real-person’ look on their face, which can be amusing or unnerving sometimes.

“He does have the look of, ‘if you get the wine, maybe you’ll get frisky later’ though,” he adds, briefly nodding at the receptionist who wishes them a buonasera.

Y/N simply laughs it off, pressing their floor button.

The door closes, one of those antique elevators with the metal trellis and wooden finish. And suddenly there’s no noise anymore. Just the low humdrum of the old engine.

They climb past floor after floor in silence. It’s only in times like this —where there’s no one else that the voices start to settle in. The voices that ask them why aren’t they together and point out just how close they are. Arm in arm. Alone together in this tiny little space.

“Does that ever make you feel… I don’t know, weird?” Harrison speaks up, a little more quietly this time.

His nose nearly brushes against her cheek, and it makes her heart skip a beat. It takes everything to keep her composure and say, “What do you mean?”

“You know, like, when people are nosy, I guess.”

“Ah well, it comes with the job, right?” Y/N coolly shrugs it off. “And you?”

She finally brings herself to turn to him, finding him looking ahead, lips pursed, head tilted away from her. He feels her curious eyes on him, and he meets her gaze. At that moment, it seems they are both keeping their cards close to their chests. And neither is willing to budge.

The elevator dings and Y/N opens her mouth. Harrison doesn’t even realize he’s holding his breath.

“You still have some makeup around your eye.” she saunters out of the elevator and towards her hotel room door.

“Fuck’s sake!” he hisses, his voice coming out sharp in the empty hallway.

“Come on, I got some cleansing oil inside,” Y/N motions him over and slides in her key card.

“This is why you’re the fucking best.” Harrison follows her into her room, drops his bag on the entryway with a flourish, and invites himself into her bathroom.

Such is life as Harrison’s friend, she sighs.

“My God, Y/N, how do you live like this?!” he hollers from inside.

She doesn’t rush inside right away. She knows exactly what he’s going on about. And sure enough, she finds him fixing the towel haphazardly strewn on its hanger and rearranging the mess of her skincare products on the bathroom counter. He makes a point to put the toothpaste cap back on in front of her.

“I was in a hurry, okay?” She simply takes the tube from him, replacing it with the glass bottle of her cleansing oil.

“You’re an animal,” he groans, although he lets her push his hair back anyway —carding her fingers through his wavy locks. It feels so good, so comforting, and he secretly wishes she could do it for longer.

But she lets go. She sits by the sink and toys with a fresh towel while he lathers his face with the cleanser. He can see there’s something on her mind, but Y/N is a stubborn little thing. The more one tries to coax it out of her, the deeper it gets buried.

So Harrison stays quiet, lathering his face with her cleansing oil. He can barely see the little knot between her eyebrows in his periphery, but he knows it’s there. Any second now...

“You know, Elena said something similar earlier.”

And there it is. “What’d she say?”

Y/N waits until he turns on the tap, rinsing his face. Perhaps some white noise and mundane activity would be a good buffer. “She asked if we were together. Said the chemistry doesn’t lie, or whatever.”

Harrison turns off the tap, and the small squeak sounds deafening at the moment. “And what did you say?”

“I said we’re really good friends!” she replies matter-of-factly, a little too loud and high-pitched to be casual. Well, at least he’s patting his face with the towel, so she can’t see his face.

Alas, the distraction only buys her 5 seconds until Harrison puts it down. He folds it in two and sets it aside. An extra 3 seconds, but it’s enough for him to muster up the courage to say,

“Would it be so bad if it were true?”

“What?” she looks up from her hands in her lap, for the first time sounding less than cocksure about herself.

He shrugs, absently fixing the row of bottles and tubs in front of him. “I’m just saying.”

“What are you saying?”

“I… like you and I like what we have and —I don’t know. Maybe I want to kiss you when we’re not working.” he wipes his hands awkwardly and leans against the sink.

They’ve been in every intimate situation known to man, with tens of people watching, and yet… in the stillness of this sleek bathroom, bathed in warm vanity light reflected against emerald green tiles, they’ve never felt so naked with each other. So vulnerable.

“Just kisses?” Y/N eventually pipes up, a glint of humor in her eyes —but also a sliver of yearning, too.

“See, that’s the other thing! We already know how compatible we are in bed and, like, we both do the same shit for work; we don’t need to have that awkward conversation about what the relationship will be like between us.”

“What if I want you to quit doing porn?” she crosses her arms, challenging him. Making sure he’s not fucking with her.

He makes a face like he knows her like the back of his hand. “Do you, really?”

And he does, she begrudgingly admits. “No, I don’t,” she sighs.

“That’s exactly what I mean." he lodges himself between her open legs. “What do you say?”

Y/N loosely wraps her legs around his trim waist, hands sneaking under his sweatshirt. “What if it doesn’t work out?”

It’s a valid concern and definitely something he’s maturely considered. “Then we… go back to being friends and co-workers. I mean, at the very worst, I don’t see us ending so badly, we wouldn’t stand to be around each other.”

“I don’t know about that, though. You’re pretty anal.”

“I thought you liked me because I’m anal.” he quirks his eyebrows at the last word.

“Shut up…” she weakly swats his chest, though she keeps her hand there, her initial worries dissipating. Gosh, being with Harrison is so easy. “So we’re doing this?”

“If you want to.”

“Sex without a camera, huh? That’s new.” she smirks at her own remark.

“No camera, no crew, no makeup…” he teases, pulling her in.

Their foreheads rest against each other, and it does calm her nerves a bit. “When in Rome,” she murmurs.

She makes the first move. They must’ve kissed a thousand times today, adding to tens of thousands more kisses in all the times they’ve worked together. But this one feels new. Unhurried. Untethered.

Indulgent, for once.

They eventually move to the bed and Y/N has no qualms with continuing their makeout session right away, but of course Harrison can’t stand the mess of clothes on the edge of the bed. She tuts and pushes it onto the floor, only to find him shooting a dirty glare at her.

“You’re an animal,” Harrison reiterates his disdain for her messy habits.

“Ugh, you’re so anal. Leave me alone!” She groans, stretching out her limbs in her bed.

“I didn’t hear you complain about that earlier,” he retorts, pulling her back into his arms.

The night is young and with no marks to hit, no takes to nail, they just lay on their sides and make out in bed for the longest time. Fingers dancing on the skin under their shirts, lazily peeling away one clothing item after another. She draws an invisible line from freckle to freckle, from his neck to his hip, before eventually resting her palm over his heart. Beating stubbornly under the steady rise and fall of his chest.

Harrison’s hand treads between her legs, knuckles stroking her soft inner thigh. She lets him in, of course, reveling in the way he traces her clit. How his whole body presses against hers, taking in every shift in her movement. Every twitch. Every subtle reaction to the way he makes her feel so fucking good.

Y/N arches up into his touch as he inches closer towards her opening. No words needed to be said; he knows what she wants. And when he spreads her own wetness around her cunt just a little too long, he simply wants to savor her bashful little laugh… and watch it falter when his fingers swiftly enter her.

“Shit…” her hand flies up around his neck, pulling him back into a kiss.

He falls out of the kiss as her jaw slacks at the quickening of his pace, and he ventures down her breasts. Finding his way to her hardened nipple, nipping and sucking to his heart’s desire.

And his heart desires to hear her sweet sighs and feel her fall apart underneath him.

She gives him just that, and it’s the easiest thing ever. Her whole body is overwhelmed with the sensation of his fingers stroking her sweet spot and his thumb lightly —lithely pressing on her clit. Soon enough, she succumbs to the impending release and whimpers his name as she cums. She trusts him to listen to her body and follow the signs, and sure enough… he does. He powers through her orgasm and slows his pace as she winds down.

"Fuck, that was nice.” she falls back into her pillow.

“I know. You’ve been doing a lot of the work today, my love,” he smooths out her hair, kissing her sweetly. “Want me to take the reins now?”

“Mm, yes please.” As bossy as she is, Y/N can’t fight how her limbs feel like jelly after that. And being taken care of really doesn’t sound so bad right now.

And Harrison is more than happy to do so. He lines up his hard, veiny cock and slides it in bit by bit, letting her adjust to his size. He’s always been thicker than he seems, and as sexy as it may be to make her scream with one swift thrust, the promise of slow, vanilla sex sounds way more enticing to them.

Y/N wraps her legs around his waist and eventually pulls him all the way in. Above all, her heart feels full at how tender they are with each other.

“You feel so good…” he hums into her neck, leaving soft kisses in his wake as he feels her walls gripping him like a vice.

“So do you, darling,” she murmurs back, grinding her hips into his.

He starts thrusting in and out of her, easing her into the comings and goings of his cock. She keeps him close, though. Letting herself be enshrouded by his body, his scent. His warmth. It feels grounding.

And when Harrison picks up his pace and inching closer towards their high, she finds herself settling back into the comfort of their relationship. In her haze of it all, she still finds it in her to tease him.

“That’s it. Fuck. Be a good boy and take care of Daddy,” she lazily grins.

He clenches his jaw, the motion of his hips faltering just a little. “Fuck’s sake, don’t do that.”

“Do what?” she blinks up at him, feigning innocence and fooling nobody.

“You know what, Y/N,” he replies with a grunt and a thrust that reaches deep into her core.

And of course, with the big dick energy she possesses, she responds with a sharp smack on his ass. “Don’t be rude, that’s Daddy for you.”

“Fuck!” he feels the clench of her pussy, the sting of her palm, and the sly smirk gazing up at him and he loses all control. Blowing his load into her silky inner walls.

Meanwhile Y/N is rocking a shit-eating million-dollar smile through it all. That little shit.

“That’s a dirty fucking game you’re playing,” he says between labored breaths into the crook of her neck.

“I know.” she kisses his sweat-damp hair.

Harrison, sluggish as he is after his orgasm, lifts his head up to meet her gaze. “I’mma get you for that.”

“Oh yeah? How?”

Y/N feels two things in the span of 3 seconds: emptiness, from Harrison pulling out of her and his weight on top of her suddenly gone just like that. And then warmth, of his mouth on her spent, dripping pussy. He wastes no time devouring the juices leaking out of her like it’s the only thing he’ll ever do. There's no camera to pander the money shot —just his insatiable self and this sexy, peculiar, funny creature that he’s crazy about. And if he spends the rest of his life bringing her to her sweet release and nothing else, he’d be the luckiest man alive.

Her big finish comes as sudden, as intense as her beginning. The kind that takes her breath away and makes her thighs tremble and close in around his head. And he makes good on his promise —he keeps licking her clit as a playful revenge, until she actively pushes his head away from the overstimulation.

“You’re an animal,” she whines, although she pulls him back into her embrace.

“That’s what you get for exposing me!”

“Um, excuse me? You exposed yourself, sir.”

“I guess I couldn’t help it when you’re being so fucking sexy like that.”

They exchange looks, the room suddenly quieting down —and then they burst into laughter, gagging and shuddering at the corny, porn-y pickup line.

“Oh God, Elena is gonna have a field day tomorrow,” Y/N sighs as she settles back into his chest. He makes for a nice pillow, it turns out.

“Ah well, let her,” he smooths out her sexed-up hair gently, pressing a kiss on her forehead, “We’ll be alright.”

And if this is what she falls asleep and wakes up to forever, she’s pretty sure she will be.

***

thank you for reading and i hope you enjoyed it! if you like my work, please consider giving me feedback through reblogs and asks. thank you so much <333

#aaahhh it's been so long #how do i tag even #harrison osterfield #harrison osterfield imagine #harrison osterfield smut #harrison osterfield oneshot #harrison osterfield x reader #pornstar!haz #ava writes

[drwcn]

I loved your fem lwj take on things. How would thibgs go if WWX was the lady? Other than ppl assuming she stood up for the Wens bcs she jad feelings for WN ( and that Yuan was hers)

Heyyy friend, I think I’ve seen a couple of girl!wwx fics floating around in ao3 so i certainly won’t be the first :P.

Also I completely misread your ask initially, I thought you were asking me what I think would happen if A-Yuan was WWX’s kid, and I was like oh?? But then I realize wait... I can make it worse.  

Today, I decided that my mortal soul doesn’t matter, so here we go. Let’s see how accursed I can make this idea: 

[1]

It started with Jiang Cheng. Jiang Wanyin had set out for the Burial Mount with the explicit goal of throttling speaking with Wei Wuxian, but what greeted him at the entrance of the “Demon Subduing Palace” — more of a cave than anything really — was not his martial sister, but Wen Ning. Well, what had once been Wen Ning.

Black veins ran across his pale, ashen face, down his equally ashen neck , and into the major veins beneath his clavicles covered by the collars of his black threadbare robes. Lifeless eyes, white as his skin, stared into a void the living could not see. There were talismans littering his body, and Jiang Cheng knew that when he spoke to this fierce corpse, he was not speaking to the young Wen boy, but to his mistress who controlled him with her demonic cultivation. 

Wei Wuxian refused to face him. Refused him explanation. Refused him closure.

“Er-jie!” Jiang Cheng screamed into the stony expressionless face of Wen Qionglin. “If you continue to protect them, then I can’t protect you!!” 

There was no response. 

Suddenly, just as Jiang Cheng was about to kick and fight his way into the cave, Wen Ning thrusted out his right fist, and in his grasp was a piece of purple silk. Jiang Cheng unfolded the silk, vaguely recognizing that it had been cut from someone’s robe, and saw what was wrapped within was a slip of parchment.

割袍断义*, the paper read. Tell the world that I, Wei Wuxian, first disciple of Yunmeng Jiang has forever defected (Note: 割袍断义- to rip one's robe as a sign of repudiating a sworn brotherhood (idiom)).

With this, there was nothing left to say. Hurt and furious, Jiang Wanyin threw the piece of parchment onto the dirt ground, grinded his heel down on it, and left the Burial Mount without ever having drawn Sandu. 

Inside the cave, Wen Qing held Wei Wuxian’s hand. “Why won’t you just tell him? He’s your brother; he can help you, you can —” 

Wei Wuxian’s mile long stare seemed to be gazing at something — someone — very far away. Slowly, she placed her other palm over her belly, which horrifically was already starting to round out. “Nobody can help me now, Qing-jie.”

“I can,” said Wen Qing, blunt as ever. “I can make it go away, if you want.”

“No.” A droplet of tear escaped pass long lashes. “No.” 

[2] 

It continued with Jiang Cheng.

On a snowy night, the first winter after Wei Wuxian escaped with the Wen remnants to the Burial Mount, Jiang Cheng was rudely awakened from his slumber by a less-than-stealthy intruder breaking and entering into his bed chamber.

Zidian whipped through the air, lighting the room with her eerie violet glow, before the intruder could think to take one more step. It was a man, judging from his silhouette colliding against the wall and the pained groan he made in response. The very next second, the tail of Zidian coiled tightly around his neck and dragged him across the floor towards beneath Jiang Cheng’s waiting foot. 

The Sect Master of Yunmeng Jiang summoned Sandu, ready to deliver the final strike, but just as his blade sailed towards the intruder’s chest, a pale arm jutted upwards, blocking Sandu’s descent and revealing a pale hand holding a … a... 

Even in the dark, Jiang Cheng immediately recognized the mahogany comb. 

“Jiang — ! Zongzhu —!” The man croaked out urgently, throat still stomped on by Jiang Cheng’s foot. It was - it was Wen Ning?!

Jiang Cheng looked him over. He was pale, yes, but his eyes appeared human. His hair was brushed and haphazardly done up in a farmer’s top knot. He was wearing farmer’s clothing too, probably more inconspicuous for travel than his Ghost General getup.  

“Jiang-zongzhu! P—please!!”

No, impossible. 

“Wei — Wei-guniang—”

Jiang Cheng lifted his foot and dragged Wen Ning up in a split second. “What’s wrong with Wei Wuxian?!”  Wen Ning coughed and shook his head desperately. “No time to explain. My sister asked me to fetch you. Please, you have to come! Wei-guniang’s life is in danger! If you won’t come, I’ll...I’ll have to go to Gusu, and I don’t know if - if -” 

Jiang Cheng followed Wen Ning. 

For speed, they travelled by sword, but even so, dawn was breaking by the time they arrived. The crowd of Burial Mount’s villagers huddling anxiously outside of the Demon Subduing Palace parted for them upon their arrival. Jiang Cheng took a moment to gather himself and square his shoulders. Whatever it was; he was ready.  

He was wrong. None of the dozens of scenario he had agonized over on the flight here could have prepared him for what awaited him inside. 

Wen Qing, pale and drenched in sweat, was near complete spiritual collapse, and without Wen Qing’s spiritual energy sustaining her, the single tenuous thread by which Wei Wuxian’s life hung on would have undoubtedly snapped under the toil and devastation her body had been put through. 

There was so much blood, so, so much blood everywhere, and amidst the blood, there was a baby. 

Fuck. 

Jiang Cheng transfused his sister half of his total spiritual reserve over the course of a day, while an exhausted but unrelenting Wen Qing worked diligently under blood-soaked sheets. 

Then at dusk, when the storm finally passed, Jiang Cheng sat at the mouth of the cave with a tiny, perfect little human — a girl, a niece! —  in his arms and cursed Lan Wangji’s name. 

Wen Qing was extremely clear with them: 孩子要是留在这里，养不活。

If the newborn was left to be raised at the Burial Mount, she would not live. And so, because parting was inevitable from the start, Wei Wuxian adamantly refused to hold or nurse the child. Her child. 

I can’t. If I do, I won’t be able to let her go. Those dark eyes burned with more than just the delirium of her childbed fever. For once, Jiang Cheng could not find it in himself to argue.

Thus, he took his niece home and named her Jiang Yan 江曕. The name was not his doing. His foolish, misguided, stubborn sister had stroked her daughter’s soft, baby cheek and whispered it to her as a farewell gift. 

Yan - to be bathed in daylight. In the end, when given a choice, Wei Wuxian still opted for her child to walk on broad sunny road. 

It made Jiang Cheng wonder why, then, she would choose the dark twisted path for herself instead. 

[3] 

It ended with Jiang Cheng. 

The truth was simple: Jiang Wanyin killed his shijie Wei Wuxian. He did. He meant to. 

He killed her. But that did not mean he wanted her dead. 

In one day, he had lost both of his sisters, leaving two orphans in their wake. Jiang Cheng could not ignore the cruel irony of their fate: one’s father murdered by his aunt, and other’s mother murdered by her uncle. 

This was the kind of tragedy fairytales were made of, and if there were anything left in him to shed tears over it, he would.  Standing amongst Nevernight’s carnage, he could not dredge up even a single drop of tear.  

Jiang Cheng didn’t know how he could return home to Lotus Pier to face that cherub face, always so happy, so sweet, so utterly untainted by the world. She had her mother’s smile. Yan'er was starting to learn how to speak. Her first words were da-da. 

Da-da. Die-die. Father. 

He was standing beside her father now. 

Lan Wangji. Devastated. Destroyed. …Deceived.

Jiang Cheng hated him so much, so fucking much that for one insane second, he thought about telling Lan Wangji the truth just to see what would happen. Maybe he would run Jiang Cheng through with his Bichen - that would be a relief now, wouldn’t it? - or maybe he would jump after Wei Wuxian. 

Truly, if he knew, he would. Jump, that is. Jiang Cheng was almost entirely sure. Oh the utter melodrama that would inspire indeed!  

But then... 

Wei Ying birthed you a daughter, a lovely, perfect, blessed little girl, and she carried that secret to her grave. I may be damned by my actions, but you, who have done nothing for her and taken everything, why should you deserve something as sacred as the truth?

Jiang Cheng turned away. 

He was acutely aware that one day Jiang Yan may very well be the literal death of him. After all — 杀母之仇不共戴天 — one cannot tolerate living under the same sky as the murderer of one’s mother. 

Be that as it may, he would raise Jiang Yan well, just as he promised. Unlike his sister, he would not break his word. Jiang Yan was of Lotus Pier, of Yunmeng, like her mother and grandfather before her. That for him, was enough. 

Jiang Cheng clutched Sandu and gripped Zidian. Whatever his fate, he already made peace with it, and the rest was inconsequential. 

One day, he may die, but today he lives, and so as long as he lives, Jiang Yan and all of Yunmeng Jiang will be protected . So as long as he lives, they will flourish. 

[...and in between]

On the streets of Yiling, Lan Wangji tilted his head inquisitively at Wei Wuxian and the little boy at her side and asked, “This child, he...” 

In response, Wei Wuxian patted her chest in a self-declarative kind of way and announced, “Oh this child, I birthed him!” 

He stared at her in shell-shocked silence, his mind racing with panicked thoughts of but that’s impossible — that was just once — even if — the boy is too old to be —

“怎么，蓝湛，不要我们娘儿俩了？” What, Lan Zhan, you don’t want the child and I?

“Wei— Wei Ying—” 

Then of course, she had laughed, and Lan Wangji thought no more of it. 

Just a joke. A silly joke. 

In time, he would come to realize his mistake. 

~~~

[A/N]: I’m not even a little bit sorry. 

#cql #the untamed #wangxian #wei wuxian #jiang cheng #wen qing #wen ning #what the fuck am I doing you ask??? #i don't know #okay #i really don't know #i am nhs #i haven't come up with the bebe's courtesy name yet lol #i am the national health services #midnightlighthowlite #corie replies #corie fics #cql ficlet #lanyan #midnight sun #ly1

[luxekook]

intimidation | myg

⇥ pairing: yoongi x reader

⇥ genre: fluff, a lil touch of smut, college AU

⇥ summary: in which you think Yoongi is intimidating bc of his dark clothing and his quiet ‘don’t give a fuck’ attitude… but then someone makes him laugh and you watch as his face lights up in the cutest gummy smile complete with shining eyes and blushing cheeks and BOOM you’re whipped for that boy

⇥ word count: 2.3k

⇥ warnings: dirty talk, light smut, cursing

⇥ sequel: intensity

Thursday, September 28th – 11:16am

Min Yoongi intimidated the living hell out of you.

While the boy in question was not all that tall or all that muscular, there was admittedly something in his aura that just screamed ‘big dick energy’... Not that you’d ever get the chance to confirm that hypothesis. You weren’t even sure you wanted to.

Shoulders slumping, you shifted your peripheral gaze off of Yoongi and back onto your professor as she droned on about evolution. Your shared Introduction to Biology class inspired an odd mix of dread and excitement every Tuesday/Thursday morning as a consequence of Min Yoongi’s sheer presence.

Your mind drifted back to the first class of the semester about a month ago...

Arriving in the lecture hall indicated on your class schedule, you took a seat in the middle of the room. You were spoiled for choice given that you had arrived fifteen minutes early for lecture. The first day of classes was always stressful for you, given your tendency to get lost within the many buildings on campus as well as your hatred for lateness.

As the room filled with more and more students, you shuffled through your backpack. “Where the hell is it?” you muttered, searching for your planner where you would jot down important notes.

Finally, you spotted it wedged in between two of your folders. Grasping it in triumph, you tugged it out of your backpack and placed it on your desk. Glancing back up, you found the coldest pair of brown eyes staring back at you.

“Is anyone sitting there?” The question came in a slow drawl, all rough and lazy. Long fingers adorned in rings shifted as the boy pointed towards the empty seat next to you. God, he was offensively good-looking.

You blinked and shook your head, “No, have at it.” His gaze pinned you in place for a few more brief seconds before his chin lifted in acknowledgment and he slumped into place beside you.

You had learned absolutely nothing that first class. Or any subsequent class that Min Yoongi deigned with his presence. The odds were about 50/50 on any given day.

Today, his presence was wreaking havoc on your nervous system. Since the initial encounter on your first day of class, the amount of words exchanged between the two of you could be counted on one hand. Last week he had asked you for your notes from a previous class he had missed, and you almost burned from the inside out with embarrassment as he took in your impeccably organized and color-coded notes with raised eyebrows and a slight smirk.

“Were you planning on framing these?” he had asked while snapping a quick series of photos of your notebook pages. In response, you had scowled, pulling your notebook out of his reach.

You were a nerd. You knew that. But you didn’t like being made fun of for it. Especially by a boy as arrogantly apathetic as Min fucking Yoongi.

Therefore, you were doing your absolute best to ignore him today. The hour and a half of class dragged by so slowly you thought you might have grown a couple gray hairs by the time your professor dismissed everyone.

Rushing to pack up your belongings and multitude of colored pens, a small slip of paper dropped onto your desk. Confused, you immediately glanced up to find the source and found Yoongi sauntering away from you, black backpack hitched over one shoulder carelessly.

Fingers shaking, you opened the hastily folded paper: “(y/n) – Sorry if I made you upset last class. I only meant to extend my compliments to the artist... – MYG.”

Compliments to the—Min Yoongi was so full of shit. But you couldn’t fight the small smile that spread across your face.

“(y/n) ... (y/n) ... (y/n)!”

The sound of your name shook you from your thoughts. Your roommate Nia decided that wasn’t enough and she shoved you in the arm.

“Ow, what the hell, Nia?” you grumbled, rubbing your left bicep dramatically.

Nia scoffed, “You’re staring into your bland salad like it holds the key to the universe. What’s up with you?”

Stabbing said salad with your fork, you waved your well-lettuced utensil in your roommate’s face, “What’s up is that I cannot stand Min Yoongi! He walks around looking like god’s gift to anyone attracted to men. Then, he has the audacity to critique my notes and give me a half-assed apology with further ridicule? The nerve! The gall!”

“I’m going to stop you right there,” Nia cut off your rampage succinctly, “Min Yoongi apologized to you? We are talking about the same Min Yoongi, right? Bleached hair? Piercings? General hatred for life?”

You nodded. Nia’s eyebrows rose to new heights, “We must contact the historians. This is one for the books.”

Rifling through your planner, you pulled out the note Yoongi left you and thrust it in Nia’s direction, “Look!”

Unfolding the small torn paper, you watched as Nia’s eyes darted back and forth... and back and forth... and back and forth.

“Well?”

Nia’s wide eyes lifted to yours, “(y/n) ... Min Yoongi is flirting with you.”

You choked on your lettuce, “What? Where on earth are you getting that? He’s clearly roasting me.”

“Nope,” Nia threw the note back at you, “Clearly flirting. Damn, Min Yoongi is into my best friend? This is wild! Okay, you first need to get on that, and then you need introduce me to Park Jimin.”

“Are you insane?” Your outburst gained annoyed looks from the surrounding students in the dining hall and you lowered your voice, “I am not ‘getting on’ anyone!”

Rolling her eyes, Nia stared pointedly to the right, “So if I'm hearing you correctly, you’re saying that you don’t find him attractive?”

Your eyes followed her line of vision and landed on none other than your topic of conversation. 

God, he looked good. Even surrounded by his group of attractive friends, Yoongi stood out to you. You were just about to glance away when it happened.

Kim Seokjin’s windshield wiper laugh burst through the cacophony of conversations, following what must have been one of his famously so-bad-they’re-good jokes.

And then Min Yoongi smiled.

Your heart stuttered in your chest as you watched his eyes crinkle, his cheeks turn a pretty pink and, his smile to widen into the cutest, most devastating gummy smile you had ever seen in your entire life.

“Holy fuck.” You exhaled. It was official. You were fucking whipped.

“Yup, that’s what I thought,” Nia’s smug tone pulled your focus away from this new version of Yoongi you were desperate to know, “Still going to deny that you want to jump his bones?”

“...No.”

You were scared shitless by Nia’s maniacal grin in response to your admission.

“Excellent,” she smirked, her palms rubbing together like a plotting villain, “Here’s what we’re going to do...”

Friday, September 29th – 10:34pm

Your hands tugged at the hem of the short leather miniskirt Nia loaned you for the night as your stomach flipped more times than Simone Biles’ floor routine.

Damn, you were nervous.

When Nia talked you into attending Kim Taehyung’s party, you had agreed pretty easily. You both had reasoned that Yoongi might not even be there; and, if he was, you would just see if he would approach you.

It had seemed so simple in the moment, but now as you grasped your beer you realized that nothing regarding Min Yoongi was simple. Since arriving about twenty minutes ago, you and Nia had immediately been recruited for beer pong by Park Jimin and Jeon Jungkook. Unable to crush Nia’s dreams of hooking up with Jimin, you had agreed immediately even though you were both absolutely terrible at the game.

Jimin and Jungkook now only had one cup left to make, while you and Nia had five. You dipped the pong ball into the designated cup of water to clean it, took aim and watched in glee as the ball sailed into the front cup.

“Oh, fuck yes!” You and Nia high-fived, taking in the rare victory. Opening her mouth to respond, Nia’s words died in her throat as she looked over your shoulder.

“What is it?” you began to turn to see what was so alarming to your friend.

“No!” Nia hissed, “Don’t you dare turn around. Min Yoongi is staring at you like you’re a five-course meal and he’s starving.”

Your soul left your body, only to be snapped back into place with the interrupting cheers from Jimin and Jungkook as they sunk their last cup.

“Good game!” Jungkook’s arm wrapped around you in a half-hug. You shoot Nia a look, but she’s completely occupied in conversation with Jimin. Jungkook’s arm fell to encircle your waist when you felt it – the weight of a certain someone’s gaze.

You barely registered Jimin and Nia’s exit from the pong table and onto the makeshift dancefloor in Taehyung’s living room. And when Jungkook suggested getting another drink from the kitchen you almost shouted in agreement. Anything to escape the eyes you knew were glued to you.

He’s just a boy, you tried to remind yourself, you could handle Min Yoongi.

You followed Jungkook into the cramped kitchen, nodding along to whatever story he’s rambling on about. Locating the vast array of alcohol scattered along the kitchen island, you grabbed a solo cup and fixed yourself a rum and coke.

“...and then Jin-hyung said ‘It’s burgundy!’” You tuned back in to Jungkook’s story just in time to laugh in the appropriate place. You felt bad. Jungkook was cute and sweet, but just not your type.

“Jungkook,” a low voice broke through your shared laughter.

Jungkook’s eyes widened in alarm as he turned to face the intruder, “Yoongi-hyung! Wh-what’s up?”

Yoongi’s gaze narrowed; Jungkook gulped, “Bye, (y/n)-noona.”

You watched in horror as Jungkook literally scrambled out of the room to get away from you and Yoongi.

“Why’d you do that?” You looked up at Yoongi.

Damn, he looked good. His blonde locks were tousled like he had been running his hands through it and his cheeks were slightly flushed – probably from drinking.

Yoongi ignored your question, shooting a look at the group of boys occupying the kitchen counter space next to you and they immediately made themselves scarce.

His dark gaze turned back to you, “Why Jungkook?”

Your eyebrows furrowed, “What?”

“Why were you talking to Jungkook, (y/n)?” Yoongi moved closer to you, backing you into the counter behind you, “That boy couldn’t handle you.”

Your eyebrows quirked up, “And why’s that?”

“Because, baby, all that hair, all that ass, and all that attitude needs a man to give you what you want and what you need.”

You struggled to formulate an answer as you watched as he took a long sip of his beer, his eyes continuing to burn into yours.

“Are you drunk, Min Yoongi?”

“Lil’ bit,” he muttered and shot you a devastating half-smile, “But still sober enough to appreciate how goddamn good you look right now.”

Your mouth opened and closed several times before you choked out, “I thought you hated me?”

His hand darted through his hair as his jaw flexed once… twice, “Not even close.”

“But you don’t talk to me... you made fun of my notes!”

“I don’t talk to you because I think you’re so fucking cute with your colored pens and your oversized sweatshirts and your overused planner. I don’t talk to you because I want to ruin you and worship you all at once.”

All air had escaped your lungs at this point. You let out a jagged breath as Yoongi suddenly slid his hands around your waist.

He scooped you off the floor and placed you on the edge of the counter. Your arms circled his shoulders instinctually and his grip tightened on your hips. When he glanced down at you, he let out a rough breath, sounding like you were torturing him.

Turning to the side, you tried to hide from his intensity behind the curtain of your hair, but he just pushed it back behind your ear.

“Yoongi, please…” Your desperate words left your mouth subconsciously, the feeling of his lips so close to yours made your pulse race and your head spin.

“What do you want, baby?” he asked, his voice hoarse and his pupils dilated, “I’ll give you anything. Just ask.”

“Kiss me?” You barely finished asking your question before Yoongi’s lips slammed onto your own.

He kissed you like he wanted to own you – and to have you own him. Gravity tried to drag you down off the counter and your mouths separated in a gasp. Yoongi hoisted you up higher with a firm hand on the back of your thigh.

Hooking your leg around his slim waist, you tugged him into you, feeling every inch of his body respond to your touch. He breathed heavily as you dragged your nails down his back slowly, provokingly. You felt his responding groan rumble deep from within his chest.

His free hand latched into your hair and tugged your lips back to his. You both moaned as his tongue circled yours, twining around it, enticing yours to follow.

You swore the way Min Yoongi kissed could be felt all the way down to your bones.  

His kisses got greedier, more desperate as he seemed to be trying to memorize the taste of your mouth on his. “God-fucking-damn," he panted, pulling back slightly and resting his forehead on yours.

You smiled, completely fucked out. His fingertips dragged down your skin slowly until he reached your waist. His hands slid up under your shirt, and he rested his palms against your skin, fingers splayed down over your hips. His hold was undeniably possessive.

Shifting his head into the crevice of your neck, Yoongi muttered, “Go out with me, (y/n).”

The only answer your last few braincells could formulate was a garbled “Mkay”. But judging from the smile you felt against your pulse point, it was good enough for him.

a/n: originally was going to make this fic about jungkook (inspired by this post), but I decided I needed to write it about Yoongi bc he is baby

© luxekook. please do not repost, modify, edit or translate.

#bts #btswritingcafe #bts smut #bts imagine #bts fic #yoongi #min yoongi #yoongi x reader #myg x reader #bts x reader #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts au #college yoongi #yoongi imagine

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: Confidence to inspire fear

( Don’t forget to come see my on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord )

The bridge of the freighter felt like it had become a nightmare as Lithel awoke.

He tried to open his eyes but even when open the room refused to stop spinning. One of his upper left eyes refused to open and as Lithel attempted to reach up with one of his arms he found that he could not move it as well.

Tilting his head down and saw through his blurry eyes that a section of the bridge ceiling had collapsed atop him and was pinning him to the deck. He tried to rise but the weight was too heavy. Just as he began pondering if this would be his end he felt the debris shift atop him. "Captain!" Lithel heard someone calling him but the sound felt like it was coming from everywhere. "Captain can you hear me!?"

Blinking several more times Lithel was able to focus and he saw his second in command Michael rushing over. He could hear several other footsteps approaching and not long after the metal pinning him to the floor being lifted off and a strong pair of arms pulling him out.

"I got you sir, just take it easy."

Lithel moved his mouth to thank him but nothing came out but a soft gurgle and whimper.

Only now as he was pulled free did Lithel see the damage done to his bridge. Halve the consoles were shattered, the data streams were flickering rapidly as an overload of information from across the ship poured in, and at one of the walls had several panels blown out and were currently on fire.

Michael helped lay him down across the floor while a medic rushed over and began treating him. Lithel was about to sit up and take back his command throne when the communications officer rushed over.

"Message coming in sir; it's from the pirates."

Lithel's eyes went wide and he tried to sit up but Michael put a hand on his shoulder and shook his head. They had served together aboard the Red Manta for some twenty years and had developed an understanding that needed no words.

He saw the look in Michael's eyes and knew he would take care of the situation and instead laid back down.

"Put them through." Michael said as the communication officer scurried off and began fiddling with the only remaining working communication console.

Within moments the data feeds stopped streaming information and displayed an image. On the opposite end series of figures could be seen standing around a command throne similar to Lithel's were it not for the adorning skulls and bones of various species draped over it.

They were muscular mixture of aliens ranging from lizard like creatures with sharpened teeth to thin limbed beings looking like living twigs, and even a strange blob like creature that had a knife wedged within it. But the most impressive of the figures was sitting atop the throne itself.

It had the shape of a humanoid figure but it appeared as a swirling cloud of black ink ever shifting. It wore no clothing and had no distinguishable features save for a pair of crimson red eyes.

"Surrender."

It was a single word spoken by the black ink creature before Michael could even say a word. The crew around it chuckled and laughed as if sizing up their soon to be prize; though Michael would soon throw a wrench into their celebration.  

"Are you insane!?" he spoke. His stance was firm and unwavering with his feet planted into the decking as if he was bracing for a storm. "Do you have any idea what you have done?"

"Who, are you?" the black ink creature spoke as it raised a talon like finger at Michael, the ink bleeding off of it in drips as it did so.

"I am Captain Michael Zbari of the human reformation, transporting goods to the homeworld."

The pirates appeared confused at this announcement and murmured among themselves before the ink creature held up a hand. The medic treating Lithel appeared to take just as much of the confusion from the announcement and was about to say something when Lithel forestalled him. He knew Michael was playing a dangerous game, and it might just be there only way of getting out of this.

"You, lie." The words were spoken as if through water and Lithel could barely understand them as the thing continued. "The captain, is not human; this, we know."

"First you attack my ship unprovoked and now you claim I am not captain of my own ship?!"

His confidence radiated from him as he spoke and some of the pirates appeared taken aback. They were the ones who had attacked and now had them all at gun point. With a single word they could destroy the Red Manta and be on their way yet this human was acting as if they were the ones who should be sorry.

"Do you have any idea who are cargo is for?" Michael continued. "Should, we, care?" the ink being replied. "You should when Emperor Galvoc finds out you stole his personal shipment."

The smirks of the pirates dropped away instantly at this. The mere mention of the human emperor's name gave them pause as if they had just been struck by a cannon. The ink being leaned forward now on both arms and fixed the camera with a burning gaze.

"You, lie."

Michael scoffed at this and raised his arms out. "Nineteen containers of freshly cut refrigerated Borgan meat, twelve containers of the finest wines of the Nebula Rim, thirty six crates of gem stones from the fire pit mines of Draxon Iv, and that's just the tip of the ice berg."

The ink monster relaxed back into it's throne at this. "An, impressive, haul, indeed." it said and some of the pirates began grinning again but Michael continued to speak.

"For one with a death wish, an impressive haul for sure."

Michael stepped towards the monitor. "You could kill us and steal all of our cargo to sell but it won't matter; because the emperor will hear of this and will hunt you down to the farthest ends of the universe."

The ink thing chuckled and Michael's face frowned. "By attacking his shipment you have essentially declared war on him; you do realize that don't you?"

At this the black goo like creature stopped chuckling.

"He controls the largest fleet of ships to ever sail the void;  their numbers alone change gravity of entire systems with their passing."

"His armies are beyond counting and the march of their feet can crack planets in two."

"The depths of his depravity for torture against his enemies boundless and of such horrific that even the Draxic are afraid to incur his wrath."

Fixing an equally dark glare now Michael faced down the ink being. "You have no idea the hurricane you just sailed into."

The pirates began to argue among themselves but the black creature let out a deep roar that sounded as if bubbling tar could scream.

"He, will, never, know!" it said, "We, will, be, long, gone, and, you, all, dead!"

It was Michael's turn to smirk as he pulled out a small box like device with a blinking red light.

"This, is an emergency transmitter capable of reaching across five sectors." he held it out clearly so all the pirates could see. "Once activated it calls in a relief fleet to warp to our position within twenty minutes; and I activated it fifteen minutes ago."

For the first time the ink creature rose from its throne and pushed several of the pirates aside with surprising strength for a creature that appeared to be made of living oil.

"You, bluff!" is said.

"You could stay and board us to call it, but when they arrive and blow your scrap heap of a ship out of the stars I don't think it'll really matter what you think now will it?"

The two stared down each other, neither speaking a word yet unwilling to back down in the face of this challenge.

Lithel watched with ever clearing eyes as the pirates became increasingly anxious.

"Tick." Michael made a sound similar the clock arms of his wrist time device. "Tick, tick tick tick."

"Silence!" the ink creature bellowed, but Michael continued.

"Time's running out for you." His face was devoid of emotion save a devlish smirk. "Tick, tick, tick, tick!"

"I said silence!"

"Time's running out little pirate." Michael quipped back, "Tick, tick, tick, tick!"

The pirates were not frantic and some even began talking to the ink creature in an alien language none of the red manta crew could understand but it appeared to upset the ink being.

Letting out another roar the screen suddenly went dead leaving the bridge crew silent as the repair teams finally shuffled in to douse the flames.

Through the viewport Lithel could see the pirate ship burning retro boosters and turning around as fast as it could before warping away.

Michael stood upright for a few moments more after they fled back to the warp before collapsing down to the ground. Streaks of sweat began pouring down his face like rivers and he began breathing rapidly.

Lithel raised himself on to his arms unsteadily and looked at Michael.

"How did you know that would work?"

Michael looked at him as if he just remembered he wasn't alone on the bridge and looked embarrassed.

"When you act like you have the backing of the biggest thug in the yard, the other rats tend to leave you alone."

"So by claiming to be the emperors personal shipment.." Lithel began as he connected the dots.

"They would fear the hell hammer that would fall on them should they attempt to steal from the biggest threat the galaxy has ever seen."

Lithel was surprised that such an act of subterfuge worked but they were still alive and he would be the last to complain on how it was handled. He did point to the strange blinking box Michael still clutched in his hand.

"What is that device?"

Michael looked at it for a moment before chucking it over to Lithel who gracefully caught it mid air.

"It's a remote control for my room lights."

Lithel looked at it dumbfounded but before he could inquire more from Michael he saw his second in command pass out on the bridge as the stress of the attack and the performance he just made finally caught up to him.

#HUMANS ARE WEIRD #humans are insane #humans are space orcs #humans are space oddities #scifi #story

[aelingalathyniusrailme]

Pirate au pt 3

gwyn watched as the shadowsinger pulled into the harbor next to her own ship. 

she had two thoughts as she stared at the ship. 1. it was ugly as fuck. the whole dark thing was so overrated and overdone. the ship was black as a raven. and it was all black. gwyn scoffed in disgust, their captain had terrible taste. her second thought was she was going to slit every single throat on that ship. 

it seemed nesta had the same thought. not only had she pulled out her katanas but she was sharpening her dagger and had a pistol in front of her. gwyn’s saber was in her hand and she slipped her own dagger from her sleeve. 

emerie appeared from the shadows and stopped them in their tracks. 

“get the fuck out of my way or I will use this on you.”

“I am going to ignore that.” emerie responded “Look I want to destroy them as much as you but remember your ship rules.” 

gwyn took a breath a repeated them to her “1. money 2. revenge 3. loyalty”

“and money..” she said waiting for gwyn to finish

“overrules revenge” she said begrudgingly. gwyn was a lot of things but she was not a hypocrite. “and to get to the money we need their help.” 

“exactly” said emerie. what would gwyn do without her emotional rock.  

“well good luck trying to get nesta to put those swords.”

“already on it.”

gwyn made her crew stay to their dismay as she walked onto the dock. 

the captain of the shadowsinger wasn’t there. so she stood against a cart and waited impatiently. not even a moment had a passed when she was turned around and pressed up against the wall with a dagger against her throat. 

gwyn smirked. so it was that kind of day. 

she hated to admit it but he was beautiful. she bet his hazel eyes and dark hair made people weak in the knees. gwyn would know, she tended to have the same affect on men and women. 

even in the dark she saw the scar that cut across his sharp jawline. 

“what’s stopping me,” he pressed the knife harder against her throat “from dragging this blade across your pretty little neck and leaving you bleeding out in an alley” gwyn laughed, oh this was going to be so much more fun then she orginally had thought. “you’ve caused me quite a bit of trouble and now.” he whispered “now you’re going to burn” 

gwyn let the dark haired pirate talk. if she was being honest, she was slightly turned on, but he would never know that. gwyn yawned finally tired of this charade

she waited until his grip loosened a fraction and then headbutted him. the pirate was stunned so she twisted the knife from his hands slipped her own knife out and shoved him against the wall, pressing one against his throat and the other right in the soft spot between his ribs. “you would like my first mates sister, she also has a flair for the dramatics.” 

“now would you like to be civil or am I going to. what was it you said?” she winked “oh right drag this blade across your pretty little neck and leave you bleeding out in an alley?” 

he said nothing instead he kicked one foot behind the other releasing yet another blade and held it to her heart. 

gwyn smiled “good now were even.” they both retracted their respective blades at the exact same time. 

“now explain to me why I am refraining from killing you at this moment, majesty”

“oh yes very classy, make fun of my ships name while yours looks like a damn sewer.” he looked slightly offended so she kept going “what is it with men and black? did your mommy not give you enough attention so you turned all dark and sad” she mock pouted at him

“can it your ship is the equivalent of a my little pony” 

“at least we are original. I earned my reputation, when others see the lilac sails they either cower in fear or they get cocky” she smiled fondly at the memories “and boy do I love when they get cocky” she shot him a look “well you should know since I had you with your tail between your legs within seconds”

“good to know I can now check off two of the rumors as correct” 

“you’ve heard of me, I’m flattered”

the captain ignored her “that you arrogant as fuck and” he paused and gave her a once over that was rude beyond all measure “and you are absolutely insane”

“I coulda told you that” she winked at him “all you had to do was ask.” 

“I am this close to sewing your mouth shut and dumbing you in the harbor”

“but what would be the fun of that?” gwyn was seriously enjoying playing with him, serves him right for shoving a dagger to her throat as a greeting. “and besides, don’t you want to hear what I have to say?”

“if you don’t get to the fucking point soon your crew is going to be following a trail of your guts across all 7 courts” 

she waved him off “threats here daggers there. blah blah blah you truly do lack any creativity. my quartermaster could help you out with that you know.” he was starring daggers and she could tell he was getting impatient to a point where he might actually follow through on one of his threats “ok ok relax. have you heard of the huge hall?”

“I don’t buy it”

“so you’re a skeptic good to know, well anyway have you heard of elain archeron?”

“the witch? sister of that assasin who is a giant pain in my ass?”

“seer but that would be the one yes. well I know her from a while back and she owes me one.” 

“a favor from a witch, definitely would like to shoot you in the head but I gotta admit that’s impressive.” 

“well It helps when you’ve fucked her.” the shadowsinger’s captain cheeks turned slightly pink, hardly noticeable to the average eye but gwyn caught it and smirked. “now that we are on the same page may I continue with my proposal or are you going to start drooling again.” 

he didn’t respond so she took it as a yes. “well I have it confirmed by the seer that if I want any chance of getting the huge hall I need your help. so I have a blank map.” gwyn was taking a risk by offering up this information. “and a crew who lives on blood sweat and money ready to become rich” 

“I’m saying we help each other out. split it 50/50 and then when all is said and done I’ll kill you for ruining the vallahan job” she said simply 

“what’s stopping you from betraying me once you have what you need?”

“I’ll tell you what,” gwyn paused in suspense “I will make you a bargain” she saw the subtle signs of shock on his face. his pupils dilated, his breath hitched and his mouth opened slightly before he fell back into his stone cold demeanor 

“a bargain” he repeated and waited thinking it over before saying “state your terms”

“I nor any of my crew will betray you nor your crew. we will each share our resources and work together to find the huge hall. when we do find it we shall split it halfway between us and separate and will be allowed to harm each other to our hearts content.” 

“you didn’t say anything about harm coming to my ship”

“well obviously, when I burn it, it will be a great service to us all” gwyn thought it was hilarious and only slightly true but the captain did not seem to think so. “alright and no harm of your vessel will come by the silver majesty’s hand and vice versa. do we agree?”

He held out his hand and she took it and they shook. she could have sworn she felt sparks but blamed it on the bargain as a flash of light erupted where their hands met. and when the light was gone she had a new tattoo on her wrist. 

“by the way I’d like to know the names of the people I work with especially those I’ve bargains with.” 

“gwyneth, gwyneth berdara, you?”

“azriel.”

#gwynriel #pirate au #gwyn berdara #azriel

[scintillasofbeomgyu]

-ˏˋ⋆ ̥ 𝗳𝗼𝘅'𝘀 𝗵𝗶𝗿𝗮𝗲𝘁𝗵 – part one: the beginning (cyj)

pairing: choi yeonjun x fem!reader x kang taehyun

genre(s): fantasy, period!fic, nine-tailed fox!yeonjun, crown prince!taehyun, angst, fluff here and there

word count: 4,1k

the spirit who had been guarding the south side of the mountain, a nine-tailed fox, is requested by the crown prince of Joseon to make an appearance before his betrothed. though reluctant at first, he agrees on condition that their meeting is fleeting and under the guise of a mask.

an: this was inspired by the kdrama ‘tale of the nine-tailed’, hence the similar elements. events may or may not be historically accurate. ++ i’m really anxious about how this fic will be taken, but i’ve put too much effort in to let it sit in my drafts ksks. might post the part 2 if you want! let me know what you think!

(finally posting this as a gift for the immense support i’ve been receiving! thank you! ❤️ and low-key bc sumi has been thinkin about kitsune yeonjun)

Sealed by the promise of two youths many moons ago, your betrothal to the crown prince of Joseon was something which was not unbeknownst to anyone in the country. Many young ladies, noble and common alike, coveted your fortune and would make desperate pleas to the gods to have half the luck you did. And perhaps anyone else would have boasted about how fate had favoured them, but you didn’t.

“(Y/n)? Are you listening?” his highness asked, raising an eyebrow as you continued to flip through the pages of a book you had picked up from his desk. You placed the book back where you found it and turned to look from the pavilion, out across the pond and above the canopy tops to the mountains in the distance.

What had intrigued you about the palace was not the status, nor the riches, nor the people who dwelt within it. After all, you preferred to be neck-deep in books of history and literature, poetry, and volumes which questioned which was myth and which was reality. Your father, though, was as open-minded as anyone else was about the education of women at the time – not at all. So you had resorted to killing two birds with one stone; appeasing your father by agreeing to meet with the prince meant getting your hands on books you wouldn’t be able to find anywhere else.

But today, you had an entirely different motive.

“Do you believe in mythical beings, your Highness?” you asked, turning to face the prince who stared back at you, wide-eyed.

The seemingly sudden question had him taken aback.

From the very first meeting, you had puzzled Taehyun. Like you, although he knew he had to do it some day, the topic of his marriage hadn’t interested him. Or rather, it was more important to him that the person he would one day wed had the same interests as he did – the good of the people and the flourishing of the country.

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t expect you to be as crazed about love and titles as the other noblewomen of Joseon were, at first. So he was pleasantly surprised when you had arrived at Gyeongbokgung, not batting an eyelash in his direction. But when he had attempted to open discussions about politics and solving the exorbitant taxes expected from the people, he’d find your nose buried in one of the books from the pile you sifted through by his desk.

Taehyun was already struggling to figure you out, and now you asked him this.

“I’m not sure what you mean,” he cocked his head to the side, folding his hands behind his back. “have you come across something thought-provoking?”

“It’s quite straightforward; a yes or no question.” you shrugged, smirking as your eyes caught the not-so-discreet glances his personal guard and the eunuch had given one another.

Ultimately, to have relations with the throne was not all sunshine and roses. For your own protection, and to ensure you were not used as leverage against the king, your father had sent you very far from home – to Southern Jeolla. And it was upon your arrival back in Hanyang, after many years away, that you had come to hear the rumours which had surrounded the royal family.

A gumiho. A nine-tailed fox. The spirit which protected the forest. A being which could not be trusted. The one to whom the country owed it’s prosperity. The one at whose hands the country could fall into havoc.

You knew better than to believe the words of storytellers and self-proclaimed chroniclers. It was the fact that they had all said the same thing which had perturbed you. It left this unsettling feeling, which just wouldn’t fade away. So you read book after book, folklores and retellings, each and every documented account of those who had insisted they had seen the man with ‘eyes which glowed like hot embers even in the light of day’. It nearly drove you insane.

That was, until just this morning, when you had overheard the court ladies chattering away in hushed tones about how so-and-so had come to see the prince again, how much so-and-so frightened them, and how they wondered for how much longer the king would leave the future of the kingdom in the hands of such a wild-card.

You turned to look out beyond the trees again, a sudden gush of wind rattling their branches and sending their leaves sailing through the air. “Let me meet him. This... friend of yours, your Highness.”

“No.”

Taehyun nodded, taking a leaf from the shrub in front of him between his fingers, “I thought you’d say that.”

Yeonjun huffed, taking a bite out of one of the freshly picked apples the prince had brought along with him on his visit (as some sort of incentive, he supposed). The scowl he had adorned etched deeper into his face as Taehyun’s proposition crossed his mind a second time. He should have left the boy to the wandering spirits all those years ago, is what he thought. The fact that Yeonjun had allowed him to follow him around and meet with him must have made him cocky.

In the beginning, he trusted them. Yeonjun had spent thousands of years cultivating the forest and protecting those which lived beneath it’s canopy. He had taken an oath to never allow any harm to come to it, and as a sort of by-product, had taken up an arrangement with the king to hand over to him any miscreants who chanced into his territory. And for hundreds of years, this agreement was honored. King after king had revered the spirit who protected the people, throwing grand festivals in his honor.

Until humans did what they always do. They became consumed by greed and corrupted by power. They feared that the existence of a powerful being, and the esteem in which the people held it, threatened the very authority of the throne.

On a night which felt like yesterday to Yeonjun, the then king had convinced him to appear before the people, reasoning that he deserved to be celebrated and loved; not lurking in the depths of a forest where he wondered alone. His yearning for family provoked, he had left, only to return to enormous crackling fires which devoured everything in their path.

Now he was being asked to entertain the likes of one of them again? An insolent, entitled woman who was probably the daughter of some power-hungry government official nonetheless? He wouldn’t allow himself to be made a fool out of again.

“I’m aware you cannot leave the forest unguarded for long periods of time, especially at night,” Taehyun said, brushing the bits of earth from his hand onto his silk garment. “which is why I want to bring her here.”

The half-eaten apple hit the forest floor with a thud.

“What did you just say?” the same incredulity written on Yeonjun’s face, embedded into his voice.

Taehyun grinned sheepishly, “Hyung, can’t you do me this one favour?”

Quickly taking a seat beside him, the crown prince of the Joseon dynasty grabbed onto the sleeve of Yeonjun’s black robe and tugged at it. Yeonjun sucked a sharp breath of air through his teeth and slapped his hands away. The memory of a scared little boy in disheveled clothes, sobbing as snot ran down onto his lips crossed Yeonjun’s mind. He bit back the grin which fought to pull at his lips.

“I thought you weren’t interested in love? Why all the effort then?”

Taehyun dropped his hands from where they had been grappling at Yeonjun’s robe and stood up, clearing his throat before folding his hands behind his back again. Yeonjun smirked. “It’s not by choice, the woman in question is frightening. Only the gods would know the lengths she would have gone to had I refused her.”

Many minutes of back and forth bickering had passed before Taehyun managed to convince Yeonjun to appear before you. This reluctant agreement came with conditions, however. Leaving the mountain for even a moment during nightfall was out of the question, but that didn’t mean that he was okay with some suspicious woman wandering into his home. So, they had settled on the foot of the mountain closest to the north side. Yeonjun had also made sure to point out that although he had agreed to let you see him, he never agreed to introductions.

“You never struck me as the type to attend parties in the evening, your Highness,” you hollered from your palanquin which lagged behind his. When no reply came, you seethed, biting back the urge to punch a hole through the expensive wooden barrier in front of you. He had suddenly appeared at your father’s estate just as the sun had dipped beyond the horizon, not bothering to give an explanation before your father had the guards stuff you into the tiny varnished vehicle. “You haven’t yet answered me, your Majesty. The question from earlier.”

You cried out in pain when the palanquin was suddenly set down, tossing you up in the air like a shuttlecock. Hand still pressing down on your head from where it had hit the roof of the palanquin, you glared at Taehyun’s outstretched hand when the door folded open. You violently slapped the hand away and pulled back your skirt, nearly kicking his shins as you climbed out. Accidentally, of course.

Your behaviour amused Taehyun, a smirk finding its way to his lips. He whispered something to Soobin, his personal guard, who had given him a distressed look in return. He sighed as Taehyun placed a hand on his shoulder, giving a quick nod before returning to the entourage. You raised an eyebrow when Taehyun offered you a smile, gesturing his hand to the left of where the road forked into two.

The evening air was brisk; the various flora emitting a plethora of unique smells which blended together as they crawled into your nose. Leaves rustled as the forest creatures scurried across the floor; the occasional flapping of wings and hoots of the wide-eyed, mice-eating predators filling the otherwise eerie silence. The pale moon, which shone like a great halo in the sky, casted it’s light through the trees, creating beautiful natural skylights and mysterious shadows. The breeze was ever-so gentle, seemingly caressing your cheeks as you followed Taehyun down the path filled with earthy soil.

“You’re going to kill me aren’t you?” He chuckled at the question you had posed. He took a firm hold of your hand as he helped you cross the stream you had encountered, squeezing it a little tighter as your shoe glided off some algae, smiling when he heard the under-the-breath cuss.

When you had both safely crossed over into the field of long grass on the other side of the bank, he caught his breath for a moment. “My men say there came a troupe from Jeonju in Northern Jeolla a few days back,” Taehyun started, motioning for you to follow behind him as he stalked through the vegetation.

You groaned. Just how much torture was he planning to put you through? Did he find out you had ‘borrowed’ some of the books from his shelf?

After another few dreadful minutes of walking, an enormous tree came into your sights. It’s trunk looked as if it could house a small population, and it’s branches spread far across the open space; a meadow. Taehyun smiled in satisfaction and wiped the beads of sweat from his forehead, before placing his hands on his hips. Was this what he wanted to show you? You were far too tired, and your feet hurt way too much to enjoy the sentiment.

“Right, as I was saying,” The prince continued. You took a seat on the soft blades of grass and began pulling the shoes off your aching feet. “Despite journeying across the country to perform in gisaeng houses, I’m told the productions of this troupe were rather enthralling – ”

The sound of your snorting earned a glare from the prince. You shook your hand, “I find myself in constant surprise this evening, your Highness,” you laughed. “Hearing the term‘gisaeng’ from your mouth would send chills down anyone’s spine.”

The distant strumming of a zither whispered in your ears and your body froze. Slowly, the field, which had been lit only by the silvery hues offered by the moon, glowed in shades of green and yellow as fireflies hovered in the air. Then the zither stopped. Your neck snapped in the direction of scuffling feet by the tree trunk. Figures dressed in black placed paper lanterns varying in size at the base of the trunk, before scaling up to the branches.

A gasp slipped from your lips when the zither had suddenly started playing again; much louder this time. Ribbons dropped from different branches around the tree, carrying men and women who spun as they unravelled. Sporting white masks in the form of a fox, they danced around the tree, twirling and swinging back, dipping low before soaring through the air with such delicacy it gave you goosebumps.

“This performance is called the Fox’s Hiraeth,” Taehyun whispered, eyes fixated on the scene before of him, “you asked the other day did you not? About gumihos in Hanyang.”

His Highness’ attempt to throw you off was painfully obvious in that moment, and it did not go unnoticed. But just before you could make the remark that you had been carefully curating for exactly this situation, the zither had come to a stop once again. Leaves rustled above you and you lifted your head into a pair of the prettiest eyes you had ever seen.

They were a shade of light brown; little flecks of green and amber peeking from in-between when light passed through them. Bewilderment swam in those sparkling orbs behind the mask, it’s wearer holding his breath, not looking away for even a moment. The feeling in your chest drew a smile onto your lips, so big, it pushed up the corners of your eyes.

“Hello.”

He pulled back suddenly, and a strong gust of wind blew right through you, making you squeeze your eyes shut. The wind seemed to blow harder and harder – Taehyun had to press his hands onto your shoulders to prevent you from being gone with it. When it had died down and you opened your eyes again, you shot up, shoving his hands away.

The lights had gone out and the fireflies were nowhere to be seen. The lanterns and the troupe too had vanished into thin air; leaving not a trace. But that was not what was distressing you.

Hands clenching fists into your satin skirt, your eyes searched desperately, “where did he go?”

“Who?” Taehyun questioned, tightening the black cloth strings of his gat. He blinked, feigning innocence so professionally, it antagonised you. “The performance is over; we should leave.”

Pulling your lips between your teeth, the agonizing feeling of having lost something important tearing at your chest, you made a decision. You were positive that Taehyun knew exactly what was going on, but you weren’t about to waste any more time trying to force an answer out of the tight-lipped prince.

Where the meadow under the peculiar tree ended, the forest started again, and spread all across the mountain. You could have been mistaken, and that man may have just been another one of the performers. But it was the forest. It felt as if it was calling out to you; screaming. Every one of your limbs ached to dash into its depths.

Taehyun cleared his throat and turned away instantaneously when he noticed you hurriedly tearing off your blouse. You tossed the garment carrying the golden emblem to the ground, and slipped your shoes back on, ignoring Taehyun’s voice which bombarded you with questions.

He grabbed onto your hand before you left and you stopped, peering down at where your bodies were joined. “It’s dangerous.” he said; his voice as firm as his grip, yet eyes pleading with you like those of a child.

Despite your fathers’ lasting friendship, you had never met Taehyun until a few days ago. And if you did, you couldn’t recall. The confounded stares he had thrown at you upon your arrival had amused you; they were not contrary to that of the other noblemen and their sons whom your father had introduced you to. You didn’t act like the prince’s woman – they had probably expected someone who they could easily manipulate and bribe to their liking – but you were very much the opposite.

It was his behaviour in the days that followed which had taken you by surprise. He’d have books stacked up all around his desk which varied in genre, and were organised by author and publication date, whenever you visited. He seldom spoke and never forced conversation with you, but he’d call for tea and sweets then leave them at a certain place on the tabletop untouched. You’d catch his eyes glancing up at you every once in a while in your peripheral vision, and a smile would find itself to your lips.

He cared for you and you had grown to care for him as well. But you knew that if you left with him right now, your insatiable curiosity would only grow and you’d just end up returning here anyway.

Placing your hands over his, eyes asking him to forgive you, you slipped out of his grasp.

“I’ll be okay.”

Yeonjun paced up and down the cliff once more. He glanced over his shoulder at the mask resting against a boulder behind him, then slapped his hands onto his face and lamented. He couldn’t figure out what had gone wrong. Everything was happening exactly as he had planned – the dokkaebi had put on their show, relishing in the fact that they were pranking humans; the trees, the breeze and the critters had agreed to set the mood for what he had intended to be your heart being won over by the Taehyun.

He peeked through the spaces in his fingers at the wooden guise, and proceeded toward it. He knelt down and picked it up, eyes fixating on the slots where they were housed previously. He was certain he had prepared for everything, but that all changed when his eyes met with yours.

They stared back at him in surprise, but that surprise slowly transitioned into a warmth which enveloped him; the light of the lanterns which reflected from them, inviting him closer. They scared him, too. Under the mask he had given himself the appearance of one of the lumberers who frequented the forest, but your eyes seemed to stare right through him. They reached into his depths, baring him before you.

Yeonjun glared, irritated with how foolish he had been. He should have trusted his instinct and refused Taehyun no matter how much he insisted. It was absurd that after all these centuries he still let himself fall prey to the ludicrous fantasy he would ever be able to live and feel as they do – he knew that was the real reason he had gone along with this preposterous idea.

His grip on the mask tightened before he hurled it into the bushes. Your voice exclaimed an ‘Ow!’, making him topple over in surprise. The golden rays of sun spilled over the summit just as you stepped out from the flora, bathing you in it’s warmth and highlighting your features as it chased away the night. You rubbed your head profusely where the mask had hit you, pausing when you noticed Yeonjun’s figure on the floor.

Hands on your hips, smiling in triumph, you blew the stray strands of hair from your face. “Found you.”

He had never in his life met such a vivacious woman. Your hair looked like a bird’s nest; tiny twigs and leaves buried within the now tousled black locks. There were tears in your hanbok. Stains of dirt, grass and mud soiled the skirt. Alas, you still had a stupid smile plastered across your mucky face. He caught himself before he started grinning like an idiot too, shuffling amongst the earth before rising with his back turned towards you. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms over your chest. Was he looking down on your intellect?

“You’re not very clever for an ancient spirit,” you remarked, tossing the mask at his feet. His frame froze, making you scoff.

The hair cascading down his back was a pale shade pink which shimmered under the light. It contrasted the pitch black robes he adorned, which were embroidered with silver. When he turned around to give you a look of wry amusement, you noticed the bangs which framed his face were more washed out in colour compared to the rest of his head. His slanted eyes were mono-lidded, and they glistened as beautifully as the night before. His lips were plump; it’s colour reminded you of the strawberry tanghulu you had seen in the market.

He stepped closer to you, smirking at the way you were entranced by his beauty, until his face stood only inches away from yours. You cast your eyes away from him, gulping as you took a step back. His eyebrows furrowed when you cringed, staggering before you fell to the ground.

“Are you alright?” he fretted, the role of the charismatic flirt quickly abandoning him as he helped you to your feet. He wrapped his arms around your waist, lifting you into his arms, and carried you to a place where you could sit comfortably. You gripped only his garments tightly, eyes still refusing to meet with his; the scent of flowers lingering on your clothes as he set you down. “His Majesty did not accompany you?”

He knelt down beside you and pulled off your shoes. Blood had soaked into your socks from all the hiking you had done the night before – the back of your shoes had cut deep into your heels; climbing over boulders and through thick vegetation had made the soles of your feet sensitive and prone to cuts and scratches. He pulled his lip between his teeth, eyes shooting daggers into yours.

He poured some of the alcohol he had been storing over your wounds, and massaged in the compound he made of medicinal herbs he had momentarily disappeared to go and find. He tore pieces of his robe to bind them when he was finished, then folded his arms over his chest. “I’m taking you back to the palace.”

You jolted up from where you were seated; Yeonjun pushed your shoulders back down. “None of my questions have been answered, I’m not leaving until they are.”

“Don’t you have a prince to marry?” he contended, tapping a finger on his chin, “they’re not going to be impressed when you return looking like this.”

“What’s your name? Are you really a nine-tailed fox? How old are you? Do you eat human livers? If so, why? Is it true that you are only able to receive titles like the ‘Spirit of the Mountain’ when you don’t feed human on livers? Are you actually a woman? Do you really want the best for this country? Do you wish to bring it to ruin for your own pleasure? Is it true that – ”

He took a step closer to you, and lifted your chin with his finger, closing your mouth. You held your breath as his eyes flickered to your lips, and he smirked noticing the blush spread across your face. He reached behind you and pulled the jade pin from your hair, the tresses falling gently down your back. Bringing the hairpin before you, and his lips to your ear, he whispered, “I dare not rob the future king of his woman, my lady. You should return home for your own safety.”

His hand travelled down the length of your arm, trailing goosebumps and setting fire to your skin. He placed the pin into your hand and lifted it, brushing his lips across your knuckles. His eyes locked with yours and you gasped as they glowed like a setting sun.

A horse whinnied as it strode into the area, making you tear your eyes away from Yeonjun’s. Taehyun slid off it’s back, rushing to your side. He grabbed onto your shoulders brows furrowing as he examined you from top to bottom. “Are you alright, (Y/n)?”

You nodded absent-mindedly, searching for where he had gone. Taehyun led you to his horse, and lifted you onto the saddle, sighing as he found you still trying to see past the trees and their leaves. You squeezed onto your chest as you rode away, an inexplicable feeling overtaking you. You had to see him again. Not out of curiosity. No, you – you just had too.

Yeonjun held onto the trunk of the pine tree and swung his body around from the backside. Watching you ride off into the distance, eyes still set on finding him, he sighed, twirling the ring he had slipped off your finger around his.

“(Y/n), huh?” he muttered under his breath, exhilarated by the way it rolled off his tongue.

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[beskarberry]

Silver and Steel

Bargaining with Beskar, Chapter 2 (The Mandalorian x f!reader)

It was then you noticed the open wall next to you. The steel panel was slid open to reveal a vault packed corner to corner with more firepower than you had ever seen in one place. Your eyes roamed from blaster to rifle to flamethrower, noticing that not all of them were made for five fingered hands. This wasn't just an armory, it was a trophy case.

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 7.5k

Content warnings: ALOT. Descriptions of violence (a little spicier than canon) blood mention, near death experiences, hurt/COMFORT, fluff, smut exhaustion sex, top!reader.

A/N: I hope y’all enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it but yeah PLEASE READ THOSE CONTENT WARNINGS!! It all works out ok in the end! Also good chunks of this was inspired by a particular filk song called Call the Navigator which I’ll link in the replies so the external link doesn’t ef up my post.

<-Previous Next->

"Med pack... junk....junk....spotchka?....is that all you've got?"

You were bent over a deep supply crate, your legs barely touching the ground while you dug through what you had hoped would be the food stock. There were several banged up tins of rations and a handful of miscellaneous junk, but nothing that looked real food. You were clean and dry after your shower, but the energy that had been spent in this very supply room just an hour or so earlier had to be replenished. "Where’s the rest of it?"

The silence coming from the cockpit was expected, but still frustrating. With a huff you grabbed two food tins and made your way through the old ship towards the ladder. At the top though a small antechamber you found your new comrade seated in the pilot chair, fussing with the buttons on the console. On either side and slightly behind his chair were two other passenger seats, though the one on his left was missing a good deal of padding. The cockpit was poorly lit save for the lighted console and the dusty starlight overhead. Though you were in the air, you could tell you were still on Tatooine. Hooray. Why are we still here? The great Dune Sea stretched out on all sides, sparsely dotted with sand people villages, but you couldn’t see any of the large space ports such as Mos Eisley or Mos Espa. In the ships’ darkness you couldn't tell what the lumpy thing was in the other chair, probably blankets or laundry. You went to toss it off the seat when a pair of huge black orbs peeped out from the heap of fabric.

"The fuck is THAT?!" You rocketed backwards, dropping the food tins in the process. The bug eyed creature made a soft cooing noise and lifted the rest of the blanket off itself, allowing two gigantic green ears to pop into view. It didn't look like a threat, in fact it looked kinda cute, but you knew it could still be dangerous. A pair of stubby three-fingered hands made grabby motions at you, the little creature giggling at your bewildered face. " Where'd you find this thing, is it some kind of pet?"

"He's not a pet." Finished fiddling with the console, Mando turned in his chair to readjust the blanket that had slumped off of the small beastie. It squealed happily and wiggled in its comfy cocoon before noticing the food tins that were still on the floor. He pointed the tiniest claw at them and chirped at you, demanding to be fed. "You'd better give him one of those before he gets mad."

It took you a moment to process what he said before scooping one of the tins off the floor, peeling back the lid and placing the dish in the seat next to the little thing. He greedily scooped the mystery mash into his tiny toothy mouth, gibbering between bites. You picked the remaining tin off the floor and leaned against the door frame, watching it happily chow down.

"If it's not a pet then what is it?"

"He's my..." the Mandalorian paused, fishing for the right words to say, "...he is my child."

That was not at all the answer you expected, if he had said emotional support gremlin you would have been less confused. The baby was still making a mess of his dinner, almost dropping his plate before Mando snatched it and set it carefully back in his lap. You had seen first hand that there was a human under all that metal plating, and your tired brain fizzled trying to make the connection between the two very different beings. Mando could tell by your puzzled face that he had some explaining to do.

He told you the tale of how he had been charged to bring the baby in as a high credit bounty, but after he used the reward to get new armor he went back and stole the child away from its captors. He talked about the Mandalorian concept of a 'foundling' and that he himself was one too. At some point you had popped your food tin open and started eating, though you were so captivated by his story that you couldn't remember doing so. When he'd finished you set your empty dish on the busted chair and gently held your hand out for the child to grab with one mush covered paw, who babbled excitedly at his new friend.

Behind you his parental guardian was rigid, ready to take you out if you made one wrong move against his precious cargo. Though he had been the one to steal you away and forgo freezing you in carbonite he still didn’t exactly trust you, your reputation as a hunter-killer was what had driven your bounty so high. He knew you were disarmed, but what else could you be capable of? However, you weren't paying mama-hen Mando any mind. Instead you let the baby play with your hand a bit before he returned to his food. You decided that the only place left to sit was on the floor. Squished into the tiny space between the passenger and pilot seats was cramped, but it gave you a fantastic view out the rounded transperisteel window into the vastness of the night sky.

“Your story sounds awful familiar.” You turned your attention to the metal clad man, watching him fidget with the steering controls. “You abandoned a guild reward for anothers wellbeing, like I did. Someone that didn’t deserve to be dragged back in cuffs. Is that why you picked up the puck on me? Some kind of kindred spirit something or other?”

“We’re nothing alike.” He was watching out the window, focused on flying the ship to unknown destinations, but he was bouncing the leg farthest away from you. So when the cogwheels turn in your head, the machine moves somewhere else. If you hadn’t experienced his human body first hand you could have easily convinced yourself he was a droid.

“Now that’s not true. You told the guild to get fucked because your moral compass was pointing the other way. I didn't just let that quarry go y'know? It was more than that. There was... there was someone she had to get back to. And the New Republic was just gonna lock her ass up and for what? It wasn't right." You remembered that Togruta woman, pointing a blaster at you with tears in her eyes and her belly swollen with a child that did not belong to the man she was being forced to marry. A few thousand credits weren’t worth another child being made an orphan, and you gave her your ship to escape in while you led hunters on a wild-bantha chase away from her. You knew it drove the guild insane but you wouldn’t have it any other way. A tiny green foot poked itself out from under the blankets by your head, bringing you out of your reverie. On reflex you tucked it back into the safety of his blankies.

Though you thankfully didn’t remember much of your early childhood, you knew you had come from Corellia. You didn’t know if you had parents or siblings, but there had been many other young street urchins in your alley behind the shipyard, and all you had then were each other. You never planned on having any kids yourself, but they were still something to be protected. At all costs, if necessary. “I’m guessing this little dude is happy with that decision.”

Mando had begun to take the ship closer to the ground, it was almost totally dark outside but you could see on the radar there was a large mountainous formation up ahead. Carefully, he landed the beat up craft on a sturdy outcropping of rocks, kicking up whirlwinds of dust and sand. Far out over the sand you could see a collection of lumpy looking ruins that were slowly succumbing to the march of the dunes. You guessed this was where your quarry was hiding out.

The baby was starting to get sleepy, his huge eyes disappearing slowly as the weight of his eyelids became too much. His little head rolled forward, threatening to toss him off his seat. Your big mean bounty hunter heart couldn’t take it, so you scrambled to your feet and scooped the baby up in your arms, sitting down in his seat to get him situated in your lap. He fussed and squirmed a bit, but you had learned a no-fail trick from the Corellian ship builders that would often help to sneak orphaned children onto their ships and off that skughole of a planet towards a better life. Many years ago they had done the same for you.

“Oh, I have sailed the midnight sea from Hoth to Arvala-5.

Seen the Cloudshape Falls of Alderaan, met rocks that were alive.

But soon I came to realize as world to world I roamed,

That nowhere in the galaxy could really be my home.”

The songs you knew were often sang by whole crews of starship sailors, loud enough to shake their durasteel walls, but you dropped your voice low and soft to turn the star-shanty into a lullaby. The baby was watching you with glittering eyes, he had stopped his wiggling and curled up tightly against your chest.

“So call the navigator, set the course and go!

We've stars and planets to explore, my wild heart tells me so.

Beneath the metal decking I can hear the engine sigh

And all I need is a mighty ship and a staaaa-aarr to guide her by”

A tiny yawn betrayed his wondrous eyes, and he gave up and closed them shut, rubbing his little hands on his face. You lowered your voice to almost a whisper.

“I've seen a million beauties and I've known a million fears,

And life is what I've found between the laughter and the tears.

Still I will sail the last frontier through worlds both tame and wild,

And marvel at their strangeness with the wonder of a child”

Soft snores were your only applause, the baby having drifted off mid stanza. You hummed a few more lines of the song to be sure he was asleep. The cockpit was as dark as the surrounding sky, but the glint of silver caught your attention. Starlight reflected off the beskar plates in a way that made the black of his visor seem darker than the heart of a collapsed star, and just as deadly. The Mandalorian was watching you intently, completely motionless.

The precious moment with the baby had made you very forgetful of the dangerous situation you were actually in. You had been captured, you were this man’s prisoner and yet here you were all cozy in the chair with his adopted son in your lap. You glared back at him, matching his fierce gaze when the little green bundle moved to get more comfortable, one tiny hand catching claws in the top you were wearing; a tunic that did not belong to you.

“Here, you take him then.” Your voice was hushed so as not to wake the child, and you raised him up gently to try and unhook him from your shirt. Immediately there were two gloved hands coming to lift the baby off of your lap. He was a monolith of leather and metal, but the way he pulled his son in close was so gentle that all the ferocity of his profession dissipated like mist. Mando carefully tucked the blanket under the sleeping little baby and wrapped him up tight before slowly turning away from you and the flight deck to head down the ladder in total silence, leaving you alone in the dark.

You watched him go, the top of his shiny silver head disappearing into the floor. Without the sounds of life in the cockpit the quiet of the night weighed heavy on your ears. He still hadn’t told you why he had kept you out of the carbonite, all you had done was let him use you as his personal play-thing... and maybe murder off some of his bounty hunting competition, but that wasn’t much to go off of. You had done worse for much less. Put your skills to better use, that’s what he had said. Absently you toyed with the end of your sleeve, no, not your sleeve. His sleeve.

That was another thing, what reason did he have to show you hospitality when his first interaction with you had been so violent? Binding you and marching your ass through the desert after he had fucking shot you. Your escape plan had almost worked, ha! All you would’ve had to do is tire him out and run but that had backfired entirely. The apex of your thighs still thrummed with sensation, warm and blissful. Though you’d had lovers in the past you usually didn’t still feel them so deeply afterwards. The smell of the fresher soap still clung to your body and clothes. Clutching at the collar of your sweater you pulled it to your face and breathed deep, letting the heady scent of it fill your lungs.

“Let’s go. We have work to do.” The modulated voice coming from the ladder startled you from your guilty indulgence and sprang you to your feet, but the source of the voice was already back down the ladder. You sheepishly followed suit.

“You plan on telling me what we’re up to exactly?” Down below the Mandalorian was loading himself with ammunition, each and every slot on his many bandoliers was packed to the brim with charges. His pulse rifle was slung over one shoulder, clanking up against a new piece of equipment you hadn’t seen before. Some kind of jet pack maybe.

“I have two bounties to catch on Tatooine. One of them conveniently fell into a sarlacc pit. The other one's hiding out down there." A bounty fob blinked red in his hand; quick flashes indicated that the target was close by. “If you help me with this, you’re off the hook. I’ll tell Karga you’re dead and the guild will stop sending hunters after you. But-” He turned to face you, he was holding your beat-up old back pack by one ratty leather strap. "If for one second I think you'll turn against me, I'll take the half credits for your corpse."

"You're one to talk!" You hissed, storming up to the gunslinger with the ferocity of a lothcat. "You kidnapped me! I didn't ask to be here."

The man in question didn't budge under your verbal assault. "Do we have a deal or not?"

He forced your backpack into your arms to accentuate his point. You ripped it from his grasp and stormed to the other side of the cabin. Everything was still inside; a pack of bacta patches, a few mementos, three busted tracking fobs and some blaster charges. Speaking of blaster-

"Where’s my gun, Mando?" Your question was answered when you turned back to face him. He was holding it by its barrel, extending the grip towards you. You met his visor with contempt, but took the old blaster from him carefully as not to cause a misfire. It would be nice to not be on the run from a guild you had pledged your loyal services to for so many years, that now wanted you delivered back to them in carbonite; and you knew that Karga would trust his favorite hunter. The life of a moisture farmer wasn’t what you dreamed of when you escaped Corellia. Fuck that. "Yeah, it's a deal. One hunt and I'm gone."

It was then you noticed the open wall next to you. The steel panel was slid open to reveal a vault packed corner to corner with more firepower than you had ever seen in one place. Your eyes roamed from blaster to rifle to flamethrower, noticing that not all of them were made for five fingered hands. This wasn't just an armory, it was a trophy case.

If he didn't want you to ogle his wares he should have closed the panel, but instead he joined you at the wall, picking up some extra plasma cartridges and a vibroblade with a curved handle, which he pushed into your hands. "Will that be enough?"

Either you trust me or you don't, pick a side, tin can. You didn't answer him right away, opting to pull a chest holster and another couple of blasters down from the wall. You cinched the holsters tight and tucked a blaster in on either side, slung a disruptor over your back and stuffed the knife in your boot. Once you had everything in place you stuck your fists on your hips like a superhero with a confidant nod. "Yeah, that should be good."

Mando was watching you with intensity, his visor going over each of your weapon choices. He tugged on your holsters’ cross straps to make sure they were secured. You rolled your eyes at him, "I know how to dress myself, sir."

No answer. Typical. He stopped fussing with your straps and turned back to the wall, selecting a heavy multi-ammo bandolier. He stepped closer to you, wrapping both arms around your waist to fit the belt in place on your hips. You tried to convince yourself that it was the cool beskar of his chest plate pressed up against you that sent a shiver down your spine. The physical contact was over as quickly as it had been initiated, and then he was back in the vault fishing out the tiny silver explosives that fit neatly into the circular latches on either side of your belt, handing them to you without a word. Finished with his selection he pressed a few buttons on his vambrace, one to slide the armory shut and another to summon an egg-shaped hover crib to float to his side. Inside its shell the child was sound asleep, a heart-melting smile on his tiny little face. As adorable as he was, you furrowed your brow in confusion.

“Is he coming too?”

“Where I go, he goes.” Mando said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. He strode back to the supply crate you had been digging through earlier and packed a handful of rations into a bag for the journey through the dunes. Cool desert air gusted into the stuffy cabin as the access ramp fell open, and the three of you headed out into the darkness of Tatooine.

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

Your dreams were hazy and feverish, shots of blaster fire flickered through the fog from unknown assailants. The smell of blood and blast plasma strong in your nose even while unconscious. You saw the sneering face of a Twi’lek twist in agony and purple blood painted his face before he winked out of existence, replaced in your mindscape with bloody hands. Your hands. Then there was cold beskar on your cheek and strong arms hauling you from the carnage. Harsh wind in your ears and the ground spiraling away beneath you. The howling wind so loud you couldn't hear the questions being barked in your face. Pain, the smell of burning skin, then nothing. You felt objects moving frantically nearby, and something soft and green was pressing into your ribs. Your eyes, heavy as they were, fluttered open to see two huge black orbs staring up from your side where bright red blood was staining the sheets under you. Is that ... my blood?

“Hey green bean...what’cha up to?” Your voice was hoarse and weak, scratching its way out reluctantly past chapped lips. Talking made your head pound, you reached up to cradle your aching skull when two leather tipped hands caught yours and held them steady.

“Easy... Don’t move too much. Please.” Your hands were gently set back down at your sides, shooting pain up your arms. A large black and silver body was hunched beside you, frantically sticking bacta patches to your skin.

“Mand...do? What…what happened?” Your voice was barely a whisper, so faint the recycled air of the cabin threatened to whisk it away.

“You got the bastard, but that fucking Twi' managed to get a shot off in your gut point blank before he went down. You shouldn't have survived that but you did.” Is that a compliment? He was wrapping a long gauze bandage around your arm, fixing the bacta patches in place so they could do their thing. It hurt, but not as much as you thought it should have. Down by your side the child had rolled into you face first, passed out cold next to an emergency cauterizer. Mando nodded at his sleeping son, “And if it wasn’t for him, you’d be dead for sure.” 

The baby? How is he involved with this? Thoughts echoed loudly in your skull, and you decided that thinky time was over. The little guy had the right idea, you should sleep now, embrace the comfort of the dark behind your eyes, let it swallow you whole.

“Hey hey hey! Not yet. Stay with me, ok? You need to drink something. Here.” An armored hand slid under your head, urging you to sit up just enough to take a drink out of the metal canteen pressed against your lips. “You need to stay awake, just for a little while.” Cool water graced your dry mouth and dripped onto your chin. Embarrassed by your mess you tried to wipe the droplets away but once again your arms were halted in place. A rough piece of fabric dabbed at your face.

“I’m not a baby, Mando. I can take care of myself.” The creeping sting of blast-burn that still scalded your skin told you that might not be true. The bacta was just starting to seep into your bloodstream, but it would take some time to work its magic.

“I know that. I was with you down there in the fray. A rancor would have been less terrifying to face than you. But right now I need you to hold still.”

Another compliment? Or was that sarcasm? You’re losing your edge, tin man. You tried to roll your eyes but the effort made your head spin; you glanced around the cabin, trying to avoid meeting the visor that was pinning you to the cot. Strewn about the floor of the ship was what was left of your holsters and weapons, splattered with red and purple blood. You couldn’t be sure, but it looked like one belt had been blasted to smithereens, torn strips of leather the only indication it had been there at all. Farther away you saw a dark block in the carbonite freezer. The Twi’lek from your nightmare was frozen solid, though from his limp posture you guessed he had stopped moving long before he was put in the chamber. One of his long lekku had been cut clean off, and even in carbonite you could see the wound was fresh. Something long and curved stuck victoriously out of the center of his chest. Your vibroblade, lodged to the hilt in his sternum.

Mando was still kneeling on the floor by your side, and though you couldn’t see his face his hunched shoulders gave you the feeling that he was distraught. He still had your head resting in his palm, his thumb absently toying with your hair. Maybe it was the bacta running through your system that made you start to feel warm and gooey on the inside, but the sensation of his hand on your scalp felt... nice. Nice to be touched in a way that wasn't just for survival. Though you had already felt his hands on your body this was something else entirely. Sincere. Maybe it was just the first time somebody near you wasn't trying to kill or capture you. You foolish girl, you've already been captured. Are you so lonely that a gentle touch makes you melt? Maybe it's you that's losing your edge.

"You should have left me for dead, cashed in on that half credit reward."

"That is not The Way." His mantra was rehearsed, spoken as easily as he drew breath, but you could hear the exhaustion in his voice.

“Well... thank you for not letting me bleed out.” You could see the top of the baby's green little noggin still curled up against your side, though the part of your ribs he was leaning on didn’t have a single mark. You looked for the blast wound that Mando was supposedly talking about, but aside from a handful of plasma burns your skin was smooth and healthy; the pool of dried blood under you was the only indication anything had been there at all. What kind of mando magic is that? And what did he mean about the child? Your first thought was how disappointed you were there wouldn’t be a good scar. Your second was realizing your top was missing. Shreds of it were still on your shoulders, but the front had been ripped off completely to get to your vanished wounds. Mando seemed like he didn’t even care, he had been so focused on patching you up that the idea of modesty was thrown out the window, but you couldn’t help teasing him. “There’s not a scratch on me, Mando. You just wanted me topless, didn’t you?”

His thumb on your scalp froze, his visor going from your face to your chest with rapid snaps. Without letting your head drop he used his other hand to tear his cloak from his back and throw it over you and the sleeping baby. “Better?”

Party pooper. “Yes, thank you.” Why is he being so nice? He must have ulterior motives, right? Why keep me alive if not to cash in on that bounty? You decided to push his buttons some more. “This bed sucks. Is this why you're so crotchety? Because you sleep on this Maker-forsaken thing? It’s making my back hurt.”

The cot you were on was spartan at best, more of a cloth covered bucket than a bed. It was recessed into the wall opposite of the armory, bits of machinery and droid parts hanging over the space above you. There wasn’t much of a gap between your head and the durasteel plating of the ship’s hull. Your teasing was rewarded with a long, tired sigh. The hand that cushioned your head moved down to your shoulders, pushing on you so that you sat up straight. You scooped the baby off of your side and into your arms, trying to ignore the dried blood from your wounds that stained the sheets before swaddling the sleeping bean in his father’s cloak. The metal man rose from the floor, letting go of you just long enough to remove his cross-belts and unlatch his chest plate, setting them on the floor with a dull thunk. He squished himself between the wall and your back, his dorsal plate scraping loudly without its cape. He scooched one armored leg around you until it was between your hip and the wall on your side, pulling you into his lap and turning his whole body into a pillow, letting your torso rest on his. He was used to the sharp metal bed frame, but that didn’t mean you should be subjected to it.

“Is this ok?”

You could only nod, your cheeks flushing red with a mix of emotions. It was more than ok, his formidable body was warm and comfortable. His arms wrapped around your waist, helping to support not only you but also his foundling. The spice of him was strong now with him on your back, worn leather and metal and that damn fresher soap that was making a fool out of you. Underneath his steady breathing the sound of something rhythmic caught your attention, it was quick and faint, but unmistakably the sound of his heartbeat. His heart is racing. Listen to that engine purr.

Behind you a man with a name you may never know watched your chest slowly rise and fall with each breath, not with lust but something unfamiliar though not unwelcome. He could hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears, whether from the ordeal of keeping you alive or the fact that you were in his arms again he couldn't be sure. He sighed, trying to convince himself to calm down, but the deep breath he took only flooded his senses with the essence of you, threatening to melt the beskar off his head with the heat rushing to his face. He couldn't help the way his fingers traced over your skin, careful not to undo any of the bacta patches. He jumped slightly when your hands found his, but the weight of the child still in your arms made it difficult to reach your fingers. The glove you were touching was suddenly empty, and a bare hand snaked out from under the cloak that kept you modest. With the press of a button the child’s pram floated its way over to you from the supply crates. The baby’s adopted father carefully lifted the sleeping creature off your lap and into his hover crib, another button press on the vambrace and the shield door slid closed.

His hand returned to the safety of the cloak, pulling the other glove off before finding your fingers again. His skin was so warm you couldn't help but imagine his hands somewhere more intimate. Evil, evil bacta... Maybe you wouldn't have to.

"I should thank you properly." It was impossible to hide the tiredness of your voice, but he was close enough you only needed to whisper. His grasp tightened around you, your once plush pillow was now a rigid wall of muscle.

"You should go to sleep." the sound of his baritone words so close to your ear made your skin prickle. Too late for that. Slowly you guided his hand down your belly until your tangled hands bumped into your belt line. A low growl rumbled out of the modulator.  “Cyar'ika... you need to rest."

The alien term of endearment made you hum, but you ignored his words of warning and pushed his hand under the tough fabric till his fingertips found your heat, both of you gasping softly at first contact. His free hand fumbled with your button, and after some difficulty you undid it for him along with the zipper. With space to work, with his wrist moved freely, lazily rolling a calloused fingertip against your clit; remembering his lesson from the first time he experienced your body, his touch was light as a feather.

There wasn’t much you could do for him in the position you were in, so you leaned back against him and relaxed, letting him enjoy you at his own pace. The bottom of his helmet was pressed into the crook of your neck, and though it was sharp you could feel something warm and soft underneath it. So there is a real man under there. Scruffy stubble brushed at your skin and sent goosebumps down your chest. Under the beskar his eyes followed the prickling trail that lead under the tattered cloak you still wore to your breasts, watching the way the fabric pointed where your nipples grew hard for him. His other hand couldn’t resist finding its way to your pert peaks, rolling them between his fingers in that way he knew flushed you with heat. Soft gasps rewarded his ears as he worked at your breast and clit, rubbing them in tandem. Your hips rolled into one hand and your back arched into the other, urging him to help you build your climax. He obliged, adding a second finger to pinch your clit softly between strong digits until you fell apart around him.

The pressure that was building behind you and pressing into your spine told you that if you wanted more from him you would have to give him a better angle. You started to get up, but the hands on your sensitive spots held you in place.

“What about your injuries? I don’t want to hurt you.” What injuries? There’s nothing left! His voice was filled with sincerity, a far cry from your first encounter. You didn’t answer him, instead you found each of his hands and squeezed them with a hum, asking him to trust that the bacta had set in and made you comfortable enough to move from your impromptu med bay. He slid his fingers out from your burning core, dragging the wetness from your cunt over your skin until his palms were on your back, helping to push you up off of him. The teeny tiny bed frame made it difficult to spin yourself around until you were facing him, and even more difficult to kick your pants off as you passed over top of him, but he never took his hands away from you to keep you steady until you were seated in his lap.

Straddling his waist you rolled your hips over where his cock was hidden from you, making him shudder under your legs. His arms glided from your knees to your hips, languidly making their way up your sides and past your breasts to the last remaining tatters of the black knit sweater he had allowed you to wear. Hooking a thumb under its ruined edges, he slid it up over your arms and cast it away into the darkness of the ship. His hands went right back to working at your breasts, massaging them like dough in time with your grinding hips. You took a moment to admire how he looked underneath you, his remaining armor glinting in the hazy ship light as his hands searched for every sensitive inch of your chest. You knew from legend that his helmet could never be removed in front of you, but you’d never heard anything about the rest of his clothes. Where his chest plate had been was a strappy flak jacket dotted with magnetic fasteners. Your hands went slowly to the first clasp, and the hands that were so indulged in you froze, his body stiff between your legs.

“Is this ok?” The irony of you repeating his question from earlier back to him made your lips turn in a sly smile. 

“Y-yes.” His voice was nearly imperceptible, and you realized that he was shaking. You looked to his visor, watching him nod in consent before you continued. He dropped his hands to your hips, pulling down on your thighs and rutting up into you while you busied yourself with the complicated under armor until it fell away at his sides, revealing a pair of suspenders and an identical black knit tunic as the one that had been shredded off of you. You didn’t have the energy to peel every article of clothing off of him, so this would have to do. Without his cloak bunched around his shoulders you were able to see the flesh of his throat, so warm and inviting that you wanted to sink your teeth into it.

You bent down to nibble at the exposed skin, and the filthy moan that rattled out of the helmet sent shivers down your spine. The taste of him was exquisite, better than you could have imagined under all that fabric and leather. The overwhelming cocktail of his scent straight from the source made you bold. You kissed your way around the edge of his helmet where the metal met his skin until you found his pulse point and made good on your desires. His body convulsed when you bit down, sucking at the tender skin until you left blooming marks that would be there for days.

“Cyar'ika... Please...“ There was that word again, you didn’t know what it meant but the way he breathed it like a prayer felt like warm honey in your belly. Releasing his tormented neck you ran your hands down his broad chest until your thumbs bumped the leather suspenders that lead you down to his waist line where you were able to tug the edge of his shirt free, giving you a delicious window of his tummy; well-muscled and dusted with dark brown hair. 

“What’s wrong, tin man? Nobody ever touch you like this before?” He was still shaking while you ran your hands under the edge of his shirt and through the soft treasure trail of fuzz from the top of his belt line to the bottom of his ribs. He couldn’t answer you, his breath caught in his throat at the sensation of your hands on his skin, but you were starting to put the pieces of his puzzle together. No, probably not.

You decided not to torture him any longer. The fabric of his pants was nearly stretched to capacity and wet with your slick. You had to stretch one leg out onto the floor to get enough of a footing to lift yourself high enough off him that you could free him from the canvas prison. His cock nearly burst out of its confines, and your face flushed red at the sight of him standing proudly at attention, twitching in your hands with a flood of shimmering precum made just for you.

His chest was heaving, ragged breaths forcing their way out of his modulator before you’d even taken his length. You used your hips to notch him at your entrance and his grip on your thighs clenched like a steel trap. Slowly you lowered yourself onto him, letting him fill you until you were stretched wide. Your eyes met his visor, though from the way it was tilted you knew he was watching himself disappear into you. His arms wrapped tightly under your ass as he thrust into you hard enough that he lifted you off the cot, quickly scooting both your bodies down the bed until he was flat on his back. You tried to stay upright, but his pounding soon had your head spinning until you were falling forward into his chest, digging your arms around his shoulders in a way you were becoming familiar with. Your hands found their way to the back of his helmet to where his hair line started, sneaking a few fingers under the metal edge to tangle in his curls. The Mandalorian’s hands were on your waist, holding you in place while he rocketed up into you, filling the ships cabin with the sound of wet slaps. His thick cock hit different from this angle, grinding up against the sweet spot deep inside you with each rut until you started seeing stars behind your eyes. He could feel you building up around him and he quickened his pace until you were gasping his name.

“M-mando! I... I’m gonna....” Your muscles coiled with heat until you burst, your sweet cunt fluttering around his still pumping cock until he went cascading over the edge of ecstasy with you, his helmet vibrating with a guttural roar. His feverish body shook, giving you a few short thrusts to milk the cum from his cock until it spilled out from where he was lost inside you.

His shaky arms held onto you so tightly, as if you would blast away into space if he let go. The endorphins flooding his head made him want to pour his heart out and tell you everything, bare himself in body and soul for the first time in his life. He wanted to tell you how nice you had looked in his clothes, how the loose knit fabric draped over your breasts was a work of art; even more so when you were standing before him armed to the teeth in his hunting trophies. How seeing you slice that fucking Twi’lek to ribbons was more graceful than any ballet. The sight of the bloody hole that had been burned into your side had made his skin crawl. Mando wasn’t ready to explain the child’s healing powers, he barely understood them himself; but if it wasn’t for the baby he would have been burying your corpse instead of tending your wounds. Instead of experiencing your living body like he was now.

His heart fluttered at the thought of his foundling healing you with his baby sorcerer magic, his tiny green paws pushed on your side where the blood was spilling from your wound. The thought of you dying for his bounty made him sick, but pride flushed the sensation away when he thought back to that first day with you up in the flight deck. How when his baby boy was restless that you acted, not with malice but with tenderness and care. He'd never wanted to rip his helmet off faster in all his days than when you sang his son a lullaby, the sweet tune of it filtering through his sensory equipment, and he longed to hear it as it was meant to be. In that moment he had been entranced, but the fierce glare of his visor had made you feel threatened. He didn't want that. He wanted to make you feel safe. The same way you had made his child feel, the same way you made him feel now. Like the galaxy itself couldn’t tear you from him.

But the ugly truth was that soon it would all end when you both went your separate ways. All the feelings he wanted to confess to you died in his mouth, leaving a bitter taste that brought him back to reality. You still straddled his waist, and though the blood had long since left his cock it still sat neatly in your heat, letting him feel your gentle heartbeat around him. Carefully he pulled himself free from the apex of your thighs and rolled you both sideways onto the unforgiving cot, letting gravity shuffle you down until you were nestled in the crook of his arm. He couldn’t help brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, meeting your half lidded eyes with his own behind the visor.

“I don’t think I can get to the fresher this time.” Your voice was barely a whisper, and the edges of sleep crept unbidden to your eyes; the traumatic activities of the day finally winning over your endurance. “You’re probably going to have to burn these sheets.”

Mando hummed with indifference, though for you he would burn all of Tatooine down if you asked. All the lovely thoughts that had danced through his mind came rolling through again, haloed in the warm light of afterglow. Only one made its way past his lips, sneaking out of the helmets’ modulator like a prayer.

“How does the song end?”

“Mmm?” You were so close to sleep, so cozy and full of cum that you knew would be a fun mess for morning-you to clean up. You wracked your brain trying to remember what the hell he was talking about. The star-shanty? “Why, do you need a lullaby too?”

“N-no. Just curious. When you leave, my foundling might ask me about it.” Liar. The calloused hand gliding up and down your spine brought the original contract you made with him ringing through your skull. One hunt and I’m gone.

“Leave? I’m not going anywhere until I see you tell Karga face to face that I’m rotting in a sarlacc pit. No take-backs. That old dog will probably dance when he hears he won’t have to part with his credits and I want to catch it on holo-corder.”

The rumbling sigh deep in his chest sounded more like an engine powering down than a mortal man, and it told you more than words ever could. The arm you had around his chest was met with strong fingers that intertwined with your own. He doesn’t want me to go. Who are you, Mandalorian?

“Tell me anyway? Please?” His arms tightened like a fortress around you. His words were distant, echoing out from somewhere in dreamland instead of right by your ear. Alright you big softie, if you’re going to beg me. You sighed heavily against him, trying to recall the songs of your distant past. 

“The nights are long between the stars, and lonely too for me,

I wonder how I might have fared with home and family.

But the bonds of friendship I have formed will last my lifetime through,

Security is not for me, my dreams are all of you.”

The same soft snores that had been your original encore with the baby now ghosted in your ear, muffled by the mysterious beskar helmet but still unmistakable. Like father like son. 

The weight of his arms around you was like nothing you had ever felt in your years on the run. You had traveled so far and met so many living beings but not once had you let another share your bed while you slept. You could get used to this. The thought was the last you had before sleep overtook you, your body slumping against his while you dreamed of silver and steel.

<-Previous Next->

TAG LIST

@mandoinevarro​ @mrsparknuts​ @cookiejuicedesu​

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #hurt/comfort #fluff #smut

[qitwrites]

a numbers game 

Fandom: BNHA 

Pairing: Kiribaku 

(AO3) 

Bakugou knows his personality and general rage-filled disposition towards everything, in general, isn’t winning him any favours, but the texts have made him contemplate just how shitty he must’ve been in a past life to deserve a fate like this.

Because no one - and Bakugou knows such assholes as Monoma - but no one deserves to be on the receiving end of unsolicited dick pics. From random numbers. At all times of the day. For the last 3ish months.

“I am going to throw my phone out the fucking window, I swear on all that is good and pure, fucking bull-“

“More dick pics?” Camie interrupts with a wide grin, plucking the phone out of Bakugou’s hand.

“What the fuck else?” Bakugou snaps, trying to pull his phone back in vain. Camie holds it just out of reach, eyeing the disgusting penis with a critical stare.

"Hmm,” she says, passing the phone back to him before taking a sip of her terrible grass juice that smells like a badly mowed golf course, “the lighting is bad and he hasn’t done like, any grooming at all. 3/10.”

“You’re being generous,” Bakugou huffs, deleting the picture immediately and swallowing the still raging urge to fling his phone at the nearest wall. “It’s unsolicited. And his fingernails are fucking filthy. -100/10.”

Camie rolls her eyes. “You’re being dramatic again Kitkat.”

Bakugou counts to 10 in his head, tries to find that last shred of patience he knows is somewhere deep in his dark pit of a soul and breathes out in a rush.

“I need to fucking figure this out before I actually lose it and track down one of these fuckers and choke the life out of them.”

Because here’s the thing- Bakugou has been receiving dick pics and dirty text messages like hi bby want sex? and imma dick you down gud boo – he’s positively swooning, what a lovely way to be wooed – and he has no idea how to stop it. Yes, he could cancel his number and get a new one, but all of his bank details are linked to this one. He’s had it since he first got a phone in middle school, and now all of his documents are attached to the damn thing. The very idea of going to the banks and the DMV and every other stupid establishment to get it changed makes him grimace hard enough that he decides to bear with it.

Except, every time he receives one of these horrible pictures, his urge to blow up the phone, nay, the entire world, simmers at dangerous levels.

“Cool it kitkat,” Camie croons, giving his forearm a squeeze, “you’re making your homicidal face. That cannot be good for wrinkles.”

“Like I give a fuck,” Bakugou grunts, flinging his phone away carelessly and watching it skitter around on the kitchen counter before halting dangerously close to the edge. “I just want it to stop.”

Camie puts her atrocity for a drink down and pulls the fridge open, rummaging around as she says, “I have a theory about all this.” She pulls out a jar of jalapenos and places it in front of Bakugou. The blonde yanks a fork out of the admittedly cute utensil bucket in the middle of their counter before snapping the lid off and spearing a good 3 pieces in one go. He chews on them slowly and directs a raised brow at Camie.

“Well,” she muses, picking her drink back up, “as a woman that receives a LOT of numbers from guys and gals and non-binary folks alike-“ Bakugou makes it a point to roll his eyes hard enough to knock his head back; Camie’s laughter is loud and boisterous “- I have a tactic for when I don’t know how to say no and don’t want to give my digits.”

Bakugou has another forkful of jalapenos in his mouth when he narrows his eyes at her.

Camie shrugs, “I usually change the very last digit of my number. Works like a charm. I never meet the person again, and they can’t contact me. Win-win.”

“Win-win my ass,” Bakugou seethes. “Do I look like I’m winning right now? I am this fucking close to killing someone, because of stupid tactics like yours.”

Camie finishes the last of her drink, and speaks around her straw, “You say that, but do you know how many people, and especially dudes, don’t take no for an answer? The only reason I give out any digits at all is when I can’t guarantee my safety. I know it’s not like, the perfect solution or anything, but I’m giving you facts right now.”

And Bakugou does, in fact, know that. He’s met those pushy assholes- people that don’t back down, people that don’t take no at face value, people that push and prod and get up in his space. It pisses him off to absolutely no end.

“Whatever,” he concedes. He spears another forkful of jalapenos before grumbling, “So, what the fuck do I do?”

Camie grins, minx like. “Why don’t you text the number one ahead and one behind your own and ask? I mean, in the best-case scenario you figure it out and get it all to stop, in the worst case, you get to yell at like random people. Isn’t that your second favourite pastime, right after yelling at that pigeon outside our balcony, the one with an agenda?”

“Don’t talk about that fucking pigeon,” Bakugou fumes, “fucking piece of shit bird and those dark, robotic eyes. Something is up with that; you can’t convince me otherwise.” He mulls over the rest of her suggestion before relenting, “Well, I guess I could spare a moment to yell at the fucking extras giving out my number to perverts with no manners and gross penises.”

“I find it so funny when you say the word manners,” Camie says as she walks to her room, “It’s almost like you know what it means!”

She isn’t even looking at him, but she manages to dodge the jalapeno that sails at her head. It hits the wall with a sick squelch, and when Bakugou hears Camie’s door shut, he drops his head on the counter with a loud, resounding thunk and muffles a scream into the marble.

  He forgets to send out those texts, and when he receives yet another picture, not three days later, of someone holding their disgusting penis in their hand, like it’s an accomplishment or some shit, he sends out a text message to two different numbers typed with shaky, sweaty fingers.

>> xxx-xxx-xxx6 , xxx-xxx-xxx4

I don’t know who the fuck you are, and you don’t know me, but it’s possible that one of you assholes gives out my number to random people who, in turn, send me fucking dick pics. It’s been over 3 fucking months, so knock it the actual fuck off. And in case it isn’t you, fuck you anyway.

  Bakugou wakes up from a restless sleep to sunlight sloping in through the blinds of his room, a dry mouth, and three new text messages from an unknown number.

Because his brain takes time to boot up in the mornings, he foregoes the phone entirely and makes his way to the kitchen in search of caffeine. Camie is always up before him, and he gratefully pours himself a mug of her insanely strong black coffee, the kind to palpitate your heart and make you vibrate in your seat. She calls it jet fuel, Inasa calls it death, Todoroki just blinks.

When he’s half a mug down, he finally retrieves his phone from his room and takes a seat in the balcony, surrounded by plants of all kinds. The sun is bright but not harsh, and he takes a second to enjoy it before opening his messages.

He doesn’t even recall sending the messages last night, and for a moment he’s enraged at the idea that someone sent him even more dick pics, but there’s no photos waiting for him, just three messages.

xxx-xxx-xxx4 omg omg OMG I didn’t think anyone actually used this number im sorry D:

xxx-xxx-xxx4 no really im so so sorry holy shit I was just following this idea that my friend gave me cause im terrible at turning people down but I didn’t realize they were messaging an actual other person OMG

xxx-xxx-xxx4 ofc I wont be giving your number out anymore im just so sorry bro, god, this is so damn UNMANLY of me

At least the person has the decency to sound apologetic. Not that it tempers Bakugou in any way, shape or form, but he takes note of it somewhere in the distant recesses of his mind.

Bakugou you better not give it out anymore fuckmunch. I should sue your ass for putting me under so much psychological distress.

The guy replies startlingly quickly. Bakugou opens the message with a quirked brow.

xxx-xxx-xxx4 shit can you actually do that?

Bakugou has no idea, but the key to selling anything is confidence, and he’s got enough to spare.

Bakugou try me

xxx-xxx-xxx4 IM REALLY REALLY SORRY OK TRULY D:

xxx-xxx-xxx4 and not just cuz you might sue me or anything, it was a terrible move on my part :’(

xxx-xxx-xxx4 can I make it up to you somehow??

Bakugou huffs, deflating a little. He’s angry yes, positively incensed for the most part, but the guy sounds genuinely sorry, and he’s finding it increasingly difficult to stay mad at someone that’s just being so damn decent and taking full responsibility.

Bakugou I don’t fucking know.

Bakugou just stop giving out my no.

Bakugou I swear to god if I get ONE MORE NUDE

Bakugou I will find you

xxx-xxx-xxx4 you don’t have to find me ill come to you

xxx-xxx-xxx4 cuz ill def deserve it at that point

xxx-xxx-xxx4 anyway, im sorry again. really ☹

xxx-xxx-xxx4 I gotta get some sleep, so tell me later about how I can make it up to you!!!!

xxx-xxx-xxx4 goodnight

Bakugou checks the clock at the top left corner of his phone screen. It reads 8:31am.

What the fuck does this guy do for work anyway? And does Bakugou care?

He decides no, he doesn’t, because he’s really too busy to care about anything, especially assholes that hand out his number to horny strangers because they’re too chickenshit to say no.

He nods at his own conclusion, downs the rest of his death-in-a-cup, and walks back inside, ready to start another long day of work. Bakugou gives himself an hour before he puts this all behind him, fully forgotten and finally taken care of.

  Why the fuck haven’t I blocked this fucker yet, is the first thing Bakugou thinks when he gets more texts from them.

xxx-xxx-xxx4 heyyo!!!!

xxx-xxx-xxx4 did you think of anything????? How can I make it up to you??

Bakugou stop texting me, that’ll be a great start

xxx-xxx-xxx4 I will as soon as u tell me how to make it up to you!!!

xxx-xxx-xxx4 I was being so unmanly and cowardly, I need to fix it!!

Bakugou good for fucking you, leave me alone

xxx-xxx-xxx4 y don’t you keep thinking abt it and lemme know !!!

xxx-xxx-xxx4 if it helps, I can hook u up with some free drinks!! I co-own and bartend at a place downtown!!!!!

xxx-xxx-xxx4 just think abt it

xxx-xxx-xxx4 I gotta get back to work, talk soon!

Bakugou stop texting me dammit

Bakugou isn’t a naïve person, but he somehow convinces himself that this will be the end of things.

  It is, predictably, not the end of things.

xxx-xxx-xxx4 I just realized I didn’t give u my name

xxx-xxx-xxx4 Kirishima eijirou!!!

xxx-xxx-xxx4 and you are?

Bakugou blocking you

xxx-xxx-xxx4 aww come on man, don’t be like tht ☹

xxx-xxx-xxx4 wait, r u a man?????

xxx-xxx-xxx4 PLEASE AT LEAST TELL ME THAT I DON’T WANT TO MISGENDER U OMG

Bakugou can you calm the fuck down holy shit

Bakugou yes I’m a dude, you’re fucking fine dumbass

xxx-xxx-xxx4 oh phew!!!!!!

xxx-xxx-xxx4 ok my dude

xxx-xxx-xxx4 please come down to the bar??????

xxx-xxx-xxx4 do you actually drink though?? If you don’t we still have great mocktails

xxx-xxx-xxx4 and I can whip up some awesome protein shakes

xxx-xxx-xxx4 ohhh and our food is bomb,,, I promise

Bakugou do you ever just stop talking

xxx-xxx-xxx4 NOPE :D

Bakugou Not a compliment

xxx-xxx-xxx4 what can I say

xxx-xxx-xxx4 im an opportunist

Bakugou you’re telling me

Bakugou fucker

xxx-xxx-xxx4 IM STILL SO SORRY

xxx-xxx-xxx4 PLEASE COME TO THE BAR LET ME MAKE IT UP TO YOU

xxx-xxx-xxx4 actions speak hella louder than words

xxx-xxx-xxx4 I must action you

Bakugou what the fuck 

xxx-xxx-xxx4 you get what I mean!!

xxx-xxx-xxx4 <location> this is the place

xxx-xxx-xxx4 its name is RIOT, u cant miss it

xxx-xxx-xxx4 just lemme know when u can make it

Bakugou I haven’t agreed to shit asshole

Bakugou stop assuming things

xxx-xxx-xxx4 free food, free drinks, free live performance of whatever band’s performing

Bakugou …………………

Bakugou I’ll think about it

xxx-xxx-xxx4 HELL YEAH

xxx-xxx-xxx4 whats your name btw?

Bakugou like id tell you

xxx-xxx-xxx4 I need it for the reservation!!!!

xxx-xxx-xxx4 so that I don’t accidentally serve the wrong gentleman all your free perks

Bakugou didn’t say im coming yet

xxx-xxx-xxx4 im super optimistic

Bakugou I can tell, you’re giving me a headache

xxx-xxx-xxx4 so………… name?

Bakugou no

xxx-xxx-xxx4 I’ll get it out of you eventually

Bakugou try me

Bakugou fucker

If Bakugou finds himself smiling at the end of the exchange, well, that’s his business.

  “So, you finally figured out who was responsible for the penis pictures?” Todoroki deadpans around his cosmo.

“That’s wonderful Bakugou!” Inasa booms, slamming his beer down on the counter with gusto. Bakugou throws a spoon at him.

“Shut it Baldy,” he grunts, going back to chopping veggies. “And yes, I did, but now this fucker won’t stop texting me, insisting on making it up to me or some shit.”

“And this is a bad thing?” Todoroki summarizes slowly. Bakugou turns around in time to see him mouth why to Inasa before taking another generous sip of his drink. Inasa shrugs his stupidly large shoulders before asking, “Why is that a bad thing?”

Bakugou throws another spoon at him. “Because, I texted them so I could stop people from texting me. Now this person’s volunteering information to me about being a bartender and shit and constantly apologizing and it’s fucking annoying.”

“You know what’s interesting?” Camie muses, stirring her bloody mary with a long ass celery stick. “You’re getting all these text messages from this bartender, and you can like, so easily block this one number and be done with it, but you like, keeping responding. And keep, you know, not blocking.”

He can’t see it, but he knows Todoroki is nodding, the fucker.

“That is a good observation!” Inasa booms again, and Bakugou has to resist the urge to fling his entire cutlery set at the man’s thick skull. “Do you like this person Bakugou?”

“What’s there to like, I don’t even fucking know him!”

“Well,” Camie starts, takes a bite out of the celery stick, continues, “he’s well-mannered. Clearly good looking, because you got a LOT of penis pictures these past three months, and that also leads us to believe the business is doing really well, if so many patrons come in begging for a number. All good things, don’t you think?”

“I hate you,” Bakugou says, stirring the curry with barely repressed rage. “I hate all of you. I hate humanity. Fuck people.”

“Or fuck this person in specific,” Camie says gleefully. “You haven’t gotten laid in like 8 months boo, you need to get some.”

“You’re the actual fucking worst.”

“In all seriousness,” Todoroki interrupts, putting his empty glass down delicately, “why haven’t you blocked the number? It seems like an easy enough solution.” The asshole has the audacity to sound genuinely curious, if not slightly amused.

Bakugou hates everything.

“I don’t, I don’t fucking know, ok?” He finally admits through clenched teeth. The blonde kills the heat and places the curry on the counter while Camie brings out the rice and some pickled vegetables from the fridge. She pulls out a beer and twists the cap off before handing it to Bakugou, who snatches it away and takes a quick swig before continuing, “He’s actually kinda nice to me, I guess. And I like watching him be so sorry about all those penises. I may have also mentioned suing him for psychological distress.” Bakugou catches Todoroki’s gaze. “Can I do that?”

Todoroki hums, “You can try, but I don’t think you’ve got that solid a case. Plus, haven’t you deleted virtually all the evidence?”

Bakugou grips the neck of his beer bottle harder. “I fucking hate everything.”

  bartender asshole <image attached>

Bakugou what the fuck

Bakugou why are you sending me cat pics?

Bakugou also that cat is stupidly cute

bartender asshole I know right?????

bartender asshole her name is ruby

bartender asshole and id die for her

bartender asshole i just figured ud be a cat person

Bakugou ………….

Bakugou I hate u

bartender asshole :D :D :D

Bakugou ugh

Bakugou Bakugou Katsuki

bartender asshole :D :D :D :D :D

bartender asshole HI BAKUGOU SO NICE TO KNOW UR NAME

Bakugou I hate everything

bartender asshole except ruby. Its not allowed

Bakugou …………………………………

Bakugou except ruby

bartender asshole :D :D :D :D :D

  Kirishima, it turns out, is a ray of fucking sunshine. Bakugou has a distinct feeling that looking at him directly would be a blinding experience.

Not that he knows who to look for though; he has no idea what this guy looks like. He guesses that he’s buff, with all the times he tells Bakugou about the gym showers running out of hot water and beating his best weights doing bench presses, but he knows nothing else.

He does know that he’s sweet as fuck, making it impossible for Bakugou to stay mad at him. He doesn’t blink at Bakugou’s cussing, and he sends him cute pictures of Ruby.

There is a part of him, small but steadily growing, that wants to meet this stupidly nice bartender.

Bakugou hates everything.

  dumbass bartender so what do you do???

Bakugou front-end development and web design

dumbass bartender oh damn!!!

dumbass bartender so youre like smart smart

Bakugou obviously

dumbass bartender have I seen your work anywhere??

Bakugou I recently redid the website of that protein powder company you don’t shut up about

dumbass bartender ????????????????????

dumbass bartender that’s amazing!!!!!!!!!

dumbass bartender I just revisited the website, it looks so cool

Bakugou duh

Bakugou im the best

dumbass bartender I don’t doubt that!!! :D :D

Bakugou don’t you have work?

dumbass bartender aww bakubro are you looking out for me <3 <3

Bakugou call me that again and I will fucking end you

dumbass bartender before the free drinks??? That you are yet to redeem? ?? at my wonderful establishment?????????? :D :D :D

Bakugou I hate everything.

dumbass bartender D:

Bakugou except RUBY DAMMIT

dumbass bartender :D

  “Just to recap,” Kaminari says with an incredulous look in his eyes, “this guy cusses like a sailor, is constantly insulting you, never initiates conversation, and you still like him?”

Kirishima’s answering grin is bashful. “I mean, when you put it like that it sounds not so great, but he’s really not that bad! He’s super funny and confident, and he LOVES Ruby. Plus, I don’t like him like that, I just think he’s cool.” Kirishima picks up another glass from the washer and starts carefully drying it with his dishcloth before saying, “And, you know, I did put him through a lot by giving out his number. His behaviour is kinda warranted if you ask me.”

“I mean, in the beginning maybe, but haven’t you guys been texting for over a week now?”

“Denki, are you forgetting that giving out another number was your idea?” Kirishima mutters, narrowing his eyes at his best friend. “I’m in this mess because of you.”

Kaminari suddenly seems to find the glass in his hand a lot more interesting. Kirishima’s laugh echoes around the empty bar.

‘What’s so funny?” Ashido muses, bringing a crate of bottled beer behind the counter.

“Kirishima is going gaga over angry dick pic man.”

“I’m not going gaga, what the heck-“

“I think it’s cute,” Ashido says with a big smile. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen you actually be interested in somebody; it’s really cute!”

“I don’t like him like that,” Kirishima stresses, though his cheeks are a little warm. He can blame that on the lack of air conditioning, he thinks. 

“We talking about angry dick pic man?” Sero asks with a shit-eating grin. “10 bucks say he’s actually a middle-aged guy with a cheese fetish.”

“That’s so random-“

“You’re on!” Ashido yells, slapping her hand into Sero’s. “I think he’ll be a hottie.”

“He hasn’t even said he’ll come,” Kirishima says, eyes downcast.

“He’ll come,” the three chorus, going about doing their tasks. Kirishima shakes his head fondly and finishes up with the glasses. Just as he’s put all the shot glasses away, he feels his phone vibrate.

Bakubro just finished a massive project

Bakubro could use a drink this weekend

Bakubro know any good spots?

Kirishima’s face breaks into the biggest smile as he rushes to answer.

Kirishima I know a bar that serves free drinks with your name on it!!!!

Kirishima amazing food, dope music, the bestest drinks

Kirishima ive heard the bartender is a great guy too

Bakubro way to toot your own fucking horn damn

Kirishima :DDDDD

Kirishima bt seriously

Kirishima please? ???? ??

Kirishima PLEASEEEEEEEEE??????????????????

Bakubro ugh

Bakubro fine.

Bakubro Friday night at 8

Kirishima looks up from the screen and calls out, “Denki!”

“Yeah?”

“Switch shifts with me, I’ll do Friday.”

“Um, ok, why though?”

Kirishima doesn’t respond, just goes back to texting, his heart thudding in his ribcage.

Kirishima YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Kirishima cant wait :D

Bakubro I’m bringing my stupid friends btw

Kirishima wait

Kirishima you have friends???????

Bakubro I am going to end you

Bakubro you know what? Fuck you im not coming

Kirishima BAKUGOU NO

Kirishima IM SORRY OFC U HAVE FRNDS

Kirishima please come

Kirishima how big a table should I reserve????

Bakubro don’t bother

Kirishima IM SORRRYYYYYYYYYY

Kirishima <image attached> <image attached> <image attached>

Bakubro bastard

Bakubro you playing dirty by sending me pics of Ruby

Kirishima need to weaken your guard somehow

Kirishima pls tell me it worked

Bakubro ugh

Bakubro ill be there

Bakubro reserve a table for 4

Bakubro your stupid bar better be worth it

Kirishima I promise it will be!!!!

Kirishima whoops in joy, slipping his phone back into his pocket. He looks up to see three sets of eyes looking at him with varying degrees of amusement.

“You get a really mushy look on your face when you’re texting him, it’s almost gross,” Sero points out with a laugh.

“Hush you,” Ashido admonishes, whipping her dishcloth at him. She walks over to Kirishima and gives him a big hug. “I think it’s very, very precious.”

“What did he say?”

“He’s coming this Friday!” Kirishima beams, holding Ashido closer against his side.

The three giggle.

“10 bucks say Kirishima messes up the drinks at least once.”

“HEY!”

Ashido squeezes around his middle. “Hon, I love you, but I’m not dumb enough to go against that.”

“HEY!”

They end up laughing and fibbing at each other for the rest of the prep time, and Kirishima feels his heart absolutely soar.

  Friday brings with it crunch time, running lines and lines of code, having a mini-breakdown because the stupid text block keeps floating around on the webpage like it’s in outer fucking space, being forced into one of Camie’s ridiculous vlogs and having an existential crisis about what to wear on a non-date get-together with the guy that ruined Bakugou’s life for close to three months.

Camie spends most of the day laughing at him. Bakugou throws more condiments at her.

“Fucking help me at least, you useless wench,” Bakugou growls, shifting to clothes as he throws a pair of jeans at her. Camie dances out of the way and doubles over, laughing till she tears up from the force of it all.

“I can’t, I just can’t,” she wheezes. “Did you just say wench? What era are you from babe?”

“FUCK OFF,” he roars, leaping towards her. Camie shrieks and ducks away, making a beeline towards his closet.

“Ok, ok, let’s get you dressed! What kinda look are you trying for?”

“Fuck if I know,” he grouses, feeling oddly out of his depth. He wants to look good, but he has no idea for what.

That’s a lie, he knows why. He just won’t admit it.

“Well, why don’t we pick something simple but flattering? Plus, if it's in your style, you’re bound to be more comfy.” Camie pulls out a pair of black jeans that are ripped at the knees, a black fitted round-neck tee shirt, and some black boots. While he’s changing, Camie pulls out a silver chain, some bands for his wrists and a collection of rings.

“Do you want me to do your eyes?” she offers, holding up some mascara and an eye pencil. Bakugou shrugs and sits on the edge of his bed. Camie’s smile is soft as she stands between his thighs, gently but efficiently applying his make-up. When she’s done, he walks over to the mirror to look at himself, and he has to admit- he looks good. Always one to take care of his body and his figure, Bakugou is lean muscle packed into a 5’10” body. His blonde hair is as messy as ever, but the combination of his make-up, the accessories and his clothes give him an edgy look like no other. Camie throws a dark fitted jacket at him before sauntering over to her own room.

He continues to reply to some work emails when his phone buzzes.

dumbass cant wait to see you!!!

dumbass just ask for me at the bar

dumbass or I might be the one to greet you!! :D :D

Bakugou I know dumbass

Bakugou what, are you nervous or some shit?

dumbass I mean, kinda????

dumbass it’s our first time meeting afterall

dumbass I don’t even know wat you look like!!!!

Bakugou blonde wearing all black

dumbass redhead wearing a shirt with the riot logo!

Bakugou whatever

Bakugou ill be there at 8

Dumbass cant wait <33333

Bakugou dumbass

Bakugou scoffs, his own nerves calming at the thought that he’s not the only one that’s a bit out of sorts. It’s nice to know that sunshine Kirishima is jittery about all this.

Also, interesting to know that he’s a redhead. Bakugou can’t quite imagine it, but in a few minutes, he won't need to.

His stomach roils with anticipation, and Bakugou hates every single thing.

Camie pops out of her room at half-past 7 in a maroon romper that cuts above her mid-thigh, hair done in a loose bun, makeup absolutely perfect. Her heels put her at a height taller than Bakugou, but he’s gotten used to being the shortest in their stupid posse. Doesn’t piss him off any less though.

She gets a phone call just as she pushes a tube of lip gloss into her purse.

“We are downstairs!” Inasa’s voice rings through her speaker, stupidly loud.

“Can it, baldy,” Bakugou grunts with a roll of his eyes, “we’ll be there in a sec.”

“See ya!”

Before Bakugou can usher Camie out the door, she pushes her clutch into his hands and walks over to the kitchen cabinet, pulling out two shot glasses and a bottle of tequila.

“Wha-“

“Liquid courage, my dude,” she says, pouring two generous shots and pushing one at Bakugou. She picks her own glass up and gives him a devilish smirk, “Bottoms up bitch!”

Bakugou picks the glass up with a resigned sigh but smirks back equally devilish. They cheers, smack the glasses against the counter and drain them smoothly. Camie puts the glasses in the sink, places a smacking kiss on Bakugou’s cheek and laughs brightly as she dances out of the way of his rage.

They finally load up in Inasa’s range rover, Todoroki plays classical Japanese music over the speakers and Bakugou regrets everything.

  Riot is apparently something of a beloved establishment in its neighbourhood, and Bakugou growls when he sees how long the line leading to the bar is.

“Holy moly, that’s a lot of people!” Camie points out helpfully as she disembarks from the car.

Todoroki straightens his two-tone denim jacket and runs a hand through his hair as he says, “We have a reservation, so I think it’ll be fine?”

“Yes, I agree with you Todoroki,” Inasa beams, locking the car behind him as they walk towards the building. The outside is made of exposed brick and neon lights, and the RIOT sign is a deep red colour, eye-catching and beautiful.

They bypass the people in the line and walk up to the bouncer, who eyes them warily. He’s built like an absolute tank, broad and block-like, and his silver hair shines in the artificial light.

“Can I help you?”

“Bakugou, table for 4,” Camie says cheerily. The bouncer looks immediately enamoured with her before his eyes go wide.

“Wait, Eijirou’s Bakugou?”

Bakugou’s ears burn at that.

“I’m not fucking anybody’s!” he snaps. The bouncer immediately looks at him, and his face breaks into an even wider grin.

“Well, I’ll be damned! Can I see some ID real quick?”

Bakugou cusses colourfully under his breath but pulls out his license, and after a quick check, the bouncer, whose name is Tetsutetsu, steps aside to let them in.

“Have a good time!” he says happily, almost too happily. Bakugou feels his hackles rise.

“What the fuck?”

“It appears that Kirishima talks about you at least as much as you talk about him,” Todoroki observes, walking next to Bakugou.

“I don’t talk about him, fuck you!”

Todoroki’s delicately raised brow makes him want to punch something. Or someone. Preferably both.

“Fuck you all,” he reiterates before stomping inside.

Now, Bakugou is a relatively creative soul – his job kinda demands it – so it’s not his fault that he’s actually quite captivated by the interiors of this stupidly popular bar co-owned by a stupidly nice person.

The inside has exposed brick as well, and most of the furniture seems to be retro. There are large pipes and barrels behind the bar, made of what seems to be pure copper. Black marble covers the bar tops, and the lights are a mix of neon and muted whites, bright enough to see but still bathing the room in an alluring aura. There’s music thumping through the speakers, loud enough to dispel any silence but still at a bearable volume.

“Swanky,” Camie whistles, taking it all in.

Bakugou nods begrudgingly before setting his eyes on the bar.

“I’ll go get us a fucking table,” he mutters before walking over, hands digging deep into his pant pockets. He sees a lanky black-haired guy and a girl with tan skin and pink hair behind the bar, talking animatedly with the patrons as they serve them drinks at a dizzying pace.

When he finally gets a spot at the counter, the pink-haired girl finishes up with a customer and bounds over to him.

“Hi,” she greets, smile wide and happy, “haven’t seen you around before! What can I get you?”

“Kirishima,” Bakugou says because apparently, his brain to mouth filter has decided to abandon him in his time of need. The girl tilts her head in confusion and Bakugou feels the life drain out of him.

“I’m sorry?”

“I’m fuckin here because of dumbass Kirishima,” Bakugou barely grits out, fingers digging into his palms painfully. “The name is Bakugou, table for 4?”

He sees it all in slow-mo- the way her mouth goes slack, the way her eyes light up like firecrackers on New Year’s, and then the way her smile becomes positively blinding. He hates her already.

“Holy shit,” she breathes, “of course! So glad you’re here! Oye, Sero?”

“What?” the black-haired guy says without looking, topping up a perfectly poured glass of beer.

“You owe me 10 bucks.”

This gets his attention- he hands the drink off and looks at her, “Why would I-“

The girl just gestures at Bakugou and winks, “It’s him.”

Sero – or plain face, Bakugou’s brain helpfully supplies – immediately looks at him, his eyes widening. “Shit, seriously? Aw, man.” His smile becomes mischievous. “I’ll get Kirishima.” He opens the door behind the bar and disappears.

“What the fuck was that?” Bakugou snaps, beyond irritated to be so out of the loop.

“Nothing, nothing,” Pinky sings, raising her hands in a placating gesture. “Kirishima will show your party to your table. Do you want anything in the meantime?”

“… a beer,” Bakugou concedes because he’s not dumb enough to not get a drink before he sees Kirishima if he can help it.

“Coming right up!”

He waits at the bar, watching as his group of dumbasses ooh and ahh at the place, looking delighted. A bottle of cold beer hits the counter with a satisfying thunk, bringing his attention back to the bartop.

“Enjoy!” Pinky still has a stupid smile on her face but before Bakugou can say anything, the door behind her is thrown open and plain face steps out.

“The restocking can wait, literally the only thing you’ve talked about for the last 3 days is finally happening.”

The guy following him is all tanned skin and thick muscles under a fitted deep red tee shirt. His hair is a bright unnatural red, pulled into a high pony with a few strands still framing his face. His eyes are a softer red than Bakugou’s own, his cheeks sharp and high, and when his eyes meet Bakugou’s, a zip of electricity races down his spine and along his limbs till he can feel it in his toes.

When the man makes his way over, Bakugou also notes how damn tall he is- easily around 6’4”. His smile is shy, and he smells like sandalwood.

“Bakugou, hi,” he breathes, hesitantly holding his hand out. Bakugou takes it in a daze, still amazed by just how stupidly beautiful this stupidly kind bar owner is.

“Heyyo, you disappeared fam, how’s it going?” 

Bakugou hates everything.

He reluctantly slips his hand out of Kirishima’s warm, firm grip and turns to Camie with venomous eyes. “I literally just met him Cam, shut the fuck up.” He turns back to Kirishima, “Can you show us to our table?”

Kirishima shakes his head once before his smile turns blinding, and Bakugou finds himself fighting the urge to shield his eyes. “Of course,” he says in a voice that’s deep and warm and honey-like, “right this way!”

Bakugou snags his beer off the counter and takes a quick swig before Camie steals it and takes a few sips of her own. He growls at her but otherwise behaves, watching Kirishima’s back as he leads them through throngs of people engaged in cheerful conversation.

“Ok, well, he’s hot,” Cam says around the lip of the bottle. “Total beefcake. Whaddya think, boo?”

“I think you should fuck off,” Bakugou hisses, his face burning.

“If you wanted to go on a date, you probably shouldn’t have invited us,” Todoroki says, taking the offered bottle from Camie. 

Before Bakugou can explode in their faces, Kirishima stops and turns around. “Here ya go!” He gestures to a table behind him, tucked into a more private corner of the bar. It’s large and cushy, and when Bakugou gets in after Camie, he’s surprised at how soft the material is.

“So?” Kirishima says, eyes trained on Bakugou.

“Fuckin what?” Bakugou snaps, voice lacking any heat.

Kirishima laughs, head thrown back to reveal a long, thick neck and Bakugou is so damn weak.

“Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friends?”

Bakugou clicks his tongue before gesturing at each of them, “Camie, marketing expert by day, YouTube beauty vlogger by night, pain in my ass always. Todoroki, environmental lawyer and a soba obsessed weirdo. Inasa, physiotherapist and resident dumbass.”

Kirishima gives them all a wave before saying, “Kirishima, co-owner of Riot and the reason why Bakugou saw more unwarranted penises than strictly necessary in a lifetime.”

“Asshole,” Bakugou grumbles, earning him another laugh and a bashful hand ruffling the back of Kirishima’s head.

“Still so sorry about that man,” Kirishima offers, “everything’s definitely on the house for you all! Speaking of ordering-“ Kirishima moves on to explain their ordering system-

“You can scan the code with your camera app,” the redhead says, pointing at the barcode on the centrepiece of their table, “and it pulls up our bar and food menu. Just enter your order and your table number,” he points at the large digits on the side that glows a bright 15 back at them.

Inasa pulls his phone out to order. Before he leaves, Kirishima says, “Can I get your drink order before I go?”

Camie asks for a LIIT, Inasa gets a Soju bomb and Todoroki starts off with his usual- a cosmo.

“You good on that beer?” Kirishima asks Bakugou warmly, his eyes dancing with mirth.

“I’m fine,” he grumbles, sliding lower into his seat. “Maybe get me another, your choice?”

“Coming right up,” Kirishima beams before stepping away, and Bakugou’s heart splutters around his chest at the sight of sharp white teeth and cheek-aching grins.

“He’s so cute!” Camie squeals, stealing the last of his beer. “And he’s totes into you too.”

“I have to agree, he’s very attractive,” Todoroki says impassively.

“Certified hottie,” Inasa rounds up, flashing his own biceps for some reason.

Bakugou is so done, and they’ve been here all 5 minutes.

  “Kirishim- Kirishima, the beer is overflowing,” Ashido says, pushing him away and taking over. “God, you’re so gone for him, it’s almost embarrassing.”

Kirishima snaps out of his stupor and moves to take the glass back. Ashido hip checks him away.

“You’re being a little stupid, go help Satou with plating and take the food to lover boy’s table.”

“He has a name, you know,” Kirishima mumbles, but Ashido simply laughs, and Kirishima feels his neck and ears go warm.

Because who let Bakugou walk into his bar looking like that? Looking so damn gorgeous in his all-black get up and his perfect eye make-up and that fierce scowl?

Kirishima’s heart had pretty much stopped at the sight of him, and it was yet to regain its usual rhythm.

The redhead rests his forehead against the wall and mumbles, “I’m so screwed.”

“We know buddy,” Sero says, patting his back sympathetically, “we know.”

  For all that Bakugou hates outings and people and outings in places filled with people, he finds himself having a moderately good time.

Because the food is delicious if lacking a little heat, the alcohol is mixed perfectly and the music is fantastic, filtering through old rock classics with some alt stuff mixed in.

And then there’s Kirishima- tending the bar with ease, laughing along with his co-workers, and sending Bakugou wide, happy smiles that sets his entire face on fire.

“This place is awesome,” Camie whoops, banging another shot glass on the table before knocking it back with ease. Todoroki joins her, his impassive face not so much as twitching at the taste of strong tequila before he bites into a lime. Inasa is already beer drunk, cheeks dusky as he hums along to the music.

“Insufferable,” Bakugou mumbles around his 4th-ish beer. He likes to keep up his grumpy act till his last shred of dignity melts away cause of the alcohol, and he’s probably pretty hit already because he lets Camie pull him into her side with her arm around his shoulder, his nose suddenly privy to the scent of her mellow perfume.

“I love you guys,” Camie beams, picking up her beer and waving it in front of her. Todoroki and Inasa clink their drinks against it, and Bakugou silently waves his own bottle around before downing it.

“You guys good on- oh my god, are you Camie? THE Camie?”

It’s Pinky at their table and her eyes are so comically wide that Bakugou can’t help his snort of laughter. He feels Camie straighten up, but her arm around him stays, holding him close.

“Define THE Camie,” she says with a smile in her voice.

“The beauty blogger that I’ve only been following for the last 3 years, holy shit I love your videos.” And then suddenly, her eyes narrow on Bakugou before she snaps her fingers. “NO WONDER YOU LOOK FAMILIAR! You’re the angry blonde in all her videos!”

“Haan? You wanna go pinky?” Bakugou growls, moving to stand up. Camie keeps him firmly by her side, her laughter shaking them both.

“That’s us!” Camie says. Bakugou finally fights his way out of her grip and throws her a withering look, or his drunken attempt at one anyway. She winks, and he fake gags. “I don’t get recognized in public all that often LOL, this is fun.”

“Did you just say LOL in a verbal fucking conversation?”

“What do you mean you don’t get recognized; you literally have like 3.2million subscribers.”

Camie ignores Bakugou and shrugs at Pinky. “I guess my primary demographic aint here fam. Speaking of which,” she thrusts her hand out, “what’s your name?”

“Ashido Mina,” she says, taking her hand firmly. Camie introduces her to the others, and Bakugou looks back at the bar, disappointed to see that he can’t find Kirishima.

“Can I top you guys off?” Kirishima says, suddenly right next to their table, effectively startling the shit outta Bakugou.

Camie chirps an affirmative, Todoroki asks for a water and checks to see if Inasa’s breathing as the big olf continues to sleep, curled up in the corner of the booth.

“And you Bakubro?”

“Don’t call me that,” Bakugou frowns before adding, “I should probably stop, I’m already kinda tipsy.”

“Lightweight,” Camie teases.

Bakugou gives her the stink eye. “Woman, the one time I tried keeping up with you, I ended up in the hospital with alcohol poisoning and you didn’t have so much as a hangover, so fuck off.”

“Seriously?” Kirishima says, eyes wide.

“That’s amazing,” Ashido murmurs, her smile crooked and dangerous.

Bakugou. Hates. Everything.

“He had no lasting liver damage, we’re all fine,” Camie reassures before diving into a conversation with Mina about beauty hacks and good mascara brands and global warming.

Kirishima leans close to Bakugou, bathing him in that warm sandalwood scent. “How about I get you some water and one last beer? A Hefeweizen?”

Bakugou turns to look at him, and his breath hitches in his throat when he notices how close they are, when he sees just how red Kirishima’s eyes are, how the heat seems to radiate off his skin. He exhales in a rush and looks away, answering with a jerky nod.

Kirishima gives his shoulder a friendly squeeze – he’s so warm, his hand is fucking huge – before walking to the bar and picking their stuff up.

When pinky finally meanders away from their table to serve other customers, Camie leans her head on Bakugou’s shoulder and says, “We’ll leave soon, ok?”

Bakugou nods again, leaning some of his weight back into her. Todoroki catches his eye and flashes him a warm, tipsy smile, and if he returns it with one of his own, well, he’s drunk out of his skull and has approximately no fucks to give.

  Long after putting Bakugou and his posse in a cab, before which they insisted on paying pretty much the entire tab since they ate and drank a LOT, Kirishima and the rest are cleaning up when Ashido whips him with her cleaning rag.

Kirishima looks at her with betrayed eyes, “Wha-“

“Ei, you better text him again.”

“About what?” Kirishima says glumly. “I did what I said I would do, and I promised to leave him alone after that.”

“Boy please,” Ashido scoffs, roughly wiping down one of the tables, “ya’ll made such gooey eyes at each other all night, plus I’m pretty sure he paid the entire tab just so you could keep up whatever façade you guys have going on to cover up the fact that you have INSANE chemistry with one another.”

“Yeah, the tension was palpable bro,” Sero chimes in, throwing an arm around his waist. “I think you should text him too. He seemed really amusing, and his whole group was a riot.”

Kirishima rolls his eyes at the pun but smiles at them, feeling a new burst of energy in his limbs.

“You guys are absolutely right! Worst case, he blocks me. At least I won’t have any regrets.”

“Yeah boy, get it with that optimism.”  

  Bakugou wakes up to a slight headache, a mouth that tastes like ash, and a profound sadness that settles atop his sternum, weighing him down and pressing him into his mattress.

He sees the glass of water on his bedside table with ibuprofen placed neatly next to it and downs them both without so much as a second thought. As his brain slowly comes back online, he takes a moment to finally navigate his messy feelings and comes to a crushing realization-

Kirishima doesn’t have to text him anymore.

The redhead had said that he’d leave him alone after making it up to him, and yes, it was Bakugou’s standoffish nature that got them into that situation in the first place. And yes, Bakugou had paid the tab mostly because it was too high a bill to be footed by the bar and Bakugou made bank, but also because a small, minuscule part of him hoped that the gesture would make Kirishima insist on another outing or something to ‘make it up to him'.

The blonde doesn’t even bother to acknowledge the fact that he forgave Kirishima almost two days into texting him.

He almost avoids his phone out of fear alone and makes it through a whole cup of coffee and 3 chapters into a novel recommended by Deku before finally picking up his phone to check for emails and notifications.

He expects none from Kirishima.

So, of course, there are 3 from the redhead.

Bakugou’s heart leaps to his throat and he can’t seem to unlock his phone quite fast enough.

fuck he’s cute hi Bakugou, thank you for coming last night!!!

fuck he’s cute it was actually really cool 2 finally meet you. U didn’t have to pay the tab tho :’D

fuck he’s cute bt since u did, I still owe u. can we figure it out later??? Also, what did you think of the place???

Bakugou dumbass

Bakugou you’ve got a swanky place, I’ll give you that. Food was fucking good too. could be spicier.  

Bakugou you got cam completely hooked

Bakugou and yeah, you better make it up to me later. Asshole.

Kirishima replies a few hours later, just as Bakugou finishes up a yoga routine that stretches out his back in the best way possible.

fuck he’s cute :D :D :D :D :D

fuck he’s cute can’t wait

fuck he’s cute <image attached>

fuck he’s cute ruby says hi

It’s a selfie this time, not a picture of just the kitty. Bakugou can appreciate how cute the mutt is, but for once, he has no attention to spare her. Not when Kirishima’s eyes are crinkling around the edges from how hard he smiles up at the camera, not when he’s wearing a tank top with relaxed arm holes, showing off bulging muscles and hints of ink, and not when just the mere thought of him makes Bakugou’s stomach flop around uncontrollably.

He barely manages to reply coherently.

Bakugou the only bright spot in this shitty world

He presses his phone to his forehead and quietly contemplates just how gay he is. Camie pets his head on the way to the kitchen.

  It takes Bakugou some time to get used to waking up to Good Morning texts and a stream of random thoughts from Kirishima all day. The flutter in his stomach disappears a few weeks into talking to the redhead, instead replaced by a bone-deep warmth that always manages to make him feel a little better.

dumbass kirishima GOOOOOOOD MORNING :D

dumbass Kirishima someone threw up on my fave shoes last night

Bakugou HAHAHAHAHAHAHAH

Bakugou suffer

dumbass Kirishima y u so mean to me ☹ ☹

Bakugou cause its fuckin hilarious

dumbass Kirishima ☹

Bakugou ugh

Bakugou <image attached> [it’s a picture of Bakugou’s balcony, and all his plants look vibrant green as the sun hits them just right]

dumbass Kirishima :D :D :D

dumbass Kirishima legit felt my serotonin just spike

dumbass Kirishima thxxxxxx

Bakugou whatever

Bakuguo dumbass

 ---

 Bakugou if I plan a murder can I count on your stupid muscles to help me move the body

dumbass Kirishima D:

dumbass Kirishima at least take me out to dinner b4 involving me in your crimes

dumbass Kirishima what a lack of manners

Bakugou stfu

dumbass Kirishima :”D :”D

dumbass Kirishima youre joking right?

dumbass Kirishima right??

dumbass Kirishima RIGHT?????

dumbass Kirishima BAKUGOU THIS IS A BAD TIME TO LEAVE ME HANGING BRO DO NOT DO THIS

Bakugou don’t call me bro

dumbass Kirishima THAT IS NOT THE POINT RIGHT NOW

Bakugou lol I didn’t do shit dumbass don’t worry

Bakugou or did I?

dumbass Kirishima BAKUGOU NO

 ---

 dumbass Kirishima <image attached> [it’s a gym selfie; Kirishima is crouching in front of the mirror shirtless, hair pulled into a bun atop his head. He’s glistening with sweat, and he’s got a more serious look on his face. He’s not actively flexing any muscle, but the pose makes his thighs, calves and biceps bulge. One hand holds the phone, the other is resting on his bent knee]

dumbass Kirishima working on deez gainz

Bakugou what time do you usually workout

dumbass Kirishima depends on my schedule actually

dumbass Kirishima I prefer the morning, but when I take the late night shift I usually go be4 work the next day

Bakugou hmmm

Bakugou let me know

Bakugou maybe we can go together

dumbass Kirishima :D :D :D :D :D :D :D :D :D :D :D :D

Bakugou ugh I changed my mind

dumbass Kirishima :D :D :D :D

dumbass Kirishima no takebacksies

Bakugou fucking fantastic

dumbass Kirishima :D :D :D

 ---

 “So, let me get this straight- you guys gym together at least once a week, you talk every day, your stomach flutters at the mere thought of him and Cam swears he’s making googly eyes at you all the time, and you still haven’t asked each other out yet?”

Bakugou flips his phone off, “Fuck off Deku, don’t be a little shit.”

Midoriya’s face morphs into an amused smile on the other end of their facetime call, “Are you being bashful Kacchan? That’s adorable.”

“I’m hanging up.”

“NOOOOO,” Midoriya bemoans dramatically. “I can’t believe I’m missing all this.”

“Yeah, well, who the fuck told you to teach kids English halfway across the world dumbass?”

“I miss you too Kacchan,” Midoriya beams, making a heart with his hands.

“I truly loathe you.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.” Midoriya puts a few papers away before sighing. “So?”

“So what?”

“So, are you going to make a move? How do you plan on doing it?”

“I don’t,” Bakugou ruffles his hair and ducks his head to hide his rapidly warming cheeks, “I’m not asking him out Deku, fuck that.”

“Why not?” the asshole whines, eyes wide and innocent. “You deserve happiness Kacchan. Plus, he seems like a really nice guy.” Midoriya leans forward and adds in a whisper, “I’ve heard he has a fantastic butt.”

Bakugou rolls his eyes and flips him off again, “Fuck off, you can’t say that without actually meeting him.”

“I’ll be back before then. You guys better be dating already when I get there.”

“Stop telling me what to do, shitty Deku!”

“Never Kacchan, that’s what you do for the people you love.”

“Ugh, how are you so gross when you’re so far away, I hate you.”

Midoriya’s laugh sounds tinny over the phone speaker, lacking its usual body and warmth. Bakugou huffs again before picking his novel back up to read.

“Hi Zuku,” Camie calls out from over Bakugou’s shoulder. “You need to come back soon and help me with Kitkat, he refuses to make the first move!”

“Butt out of my fucking love life, you freaks!”

“Can’t butt out of something that doesn’t exist Kats,” Camie deadpans.

Bakugou feels extremely justified in flinging a stress ball right at her. The kitchen fills up with raucous laughter, from his phone and from the person standing in front of him, and Bakugou thinks that adding a deeper, warmer laugh to the mix, coming from a specific redhead might not be the worst thing in the world.

  Kiri bakugouuuuuuuuuuuuuuu

Bakugou what?

Kiri just wanted to say hi <3

Bakugou wth

Kiri we still on fr the gym tomorrow?

Bakugou obviously you dumbass

Bakugou I need you to spot me

Bakugou im beating my personal best tomorrow or im going to die trying

Kiri so manly :O :O :O

Kiri I’ve got you bruh

Bakugou don’t call me that

Bakugou and I know you do

Kiri <3 <3

 ---

 Bakugou <link>

Bakugou that playlist you were asking about

Kiri u da bomb katsuki

Bakugou katsuki huh?

Bakugou getting cocky I see

Kiri I mean, weve known each other for like 4 months now???

Kiri ur one of my closest pals

Kiri I don’t have to, I just thought ud like it more than bro

Bakugou I do like it more than bro

Bakugou eijirou

Bakugou I guess ur not terrible

Eijirou ????

Eijirou did you just?? pay me????? A compliment??

Eijirou who r u and wat have you done to katsuki?

Bakugou fuck you

Bakugou just fuck you

Eijirou <3 <3 <3

  Bakugou wakes up one morning, approximately 5 months after meeting Kirishima for the first time, with a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach.

His work goes smoothly. The coffee tastes potent and fresh, his body feels fine, his plants are thriving, Camie is busy with her own deadlines and therefore not bugging him, even the sun is mellow and warm; the perfect weather.

The pit in his stomach worsens with every hour.

It doesn’t help that all of his messages to Kirishima have gone unanswered; he hasn’t even been online all day. In the months that they’ve communicated, he’s never gone a day without texting the man, and now it’s like he fell off the face of the Earth.

When it gets closer to 6 in the evening, Bakugou decides to call if Kirishima doesn’t get in touch himself. Because the pit in his stomach is making him nauseous, and he needs to know if the redhead is ok if only for the sake of his own damn health.

He gets a call from an unknown number at 5:20 in the evening. The pit in his stomach becomes a yawning chasm as he picks up the call.

“Hello?”

“Bakugou, it’s Ashido, from the bar.”

Bakugou pulls in a deep breath. “Where is Kirishima?”

“Um, there was an incident last night, at Riot.” She sighs deeply before continuing, “Kiri got jumped in the alley outside by a bunch of really drunk homophobic assholes that saw him turn down some guy’s number. He actually fought them off for the most part, but he’s sustained a broken nose and some fractured ribs. We’re at the hospital right now.”

Bakugou sinks to the ground, his stomach plummeting with him. “Are you fucking serious right now? Fuck-“

“I’ll text you the hospital details, ok? I’m sorry we didn’t call sooner, between talking to his moms and the hospital folks, it slipped my mind.”

“I’ll be there,” Bakugou says, standing up on shaky feet and stumbling back to his room. “Just don’t leave him alone.”

“Never in a million years.”

They hang up and Bakugou changes, hails a cab, and gets to the hospital in a complete daze.

His affection for the redhead, brimming and spilling from every crevice, makes itself evident when he lays eyes on him in the hospital bed and feels a surge of protectiveness. He wants to kill the people that did this, he wants to gather Kirishima in his arms and hold him tight, he wants to crawl into bed with him and talk about stupid shit and see him smile again.

“He’s pretty high on pain meds right now,” Ashido says from somewhere behind him, pointing to his IV lines, “so he’s been saying really funny stuff. The doctors did a full evaluation and said he should recover completely in 5ish weeks.”

Bakugou nods and swallows thickly. Ashido squeezes his arm before leaving the hospital room, shutting the door behind her softly.

Kirishima hasn’t seen him yet, so Bakugou approaches his bed carefully before placing a hand on the guardrail. The noise pulls Kirishima’s attention towards him, and Bakugou’s gut tightens when those large, warm eyes go completely soft at the sight of him.

“Kassaki~” Kirishima slurs, his smile large and dopey.

“You absolute dumbass,” Bakugou chokes out, his hand moving from the rail to grip Kirishima’s tightly. Kirishima’s fingers twine with his own with practised ease and his smile turns gooey.

“Hi Kats, you look beautiful today.”

Bakugou half-laughs, half-sobs and rubs his eyes fiercely. Kirishima’s face is a bit bruised, and there’s a huge bandage on his nose, but he doesn’t look nearly as bad as Bakugou had first feared. The pit in his stomach finally calms, slowly loosening until he can breathe normally again.

“Shut up Eiji,” Bakugou grumbles, sitting down on the chair beside the bed. He leaves his hand in Kirishima’s.

“Ok,” Kirishima agrees easily. It takes 10 seconds for him to break the silence again.

“Hey Kats?”

“What?”

“Are we dating?”

Bakugou startles at that, eyes snapping over to Kirishima’s. He doesn’t look accusatory or hurt or weirded out or anything- merely curious.

“No, we’re not.”

“Oh.” Kirishima frowns, “Why not?”

Bakugou huffs out a small laugh, “Because we’re both idiots.”

“Oh,” the redhead says, then nods. “That kinda tracks.”

“HEY!”

Kirishima’s smile becomes dopey again, eyes crinkling in the most endearing way.

“I really like you Kats. You’re so smart and funny and you always smell like fabric softener, and you’re just like. Really pretty.”

Bakugou feels his face heat up completely, his grip on Kirishima’s hand tightening.

“Just rest, you dumbass,” Bakugou says weakly, his entire body too hot for comfort. He watches Kirishima’s smile become something warm and loving in a way that hits his heart, and he doesn’t let go of the redhead’s hand, right up until the end of visiting hours.

When he exits the hospital alongside Ashido, he feels the last of his energy drain.

“I cant believe we didn’t get to him sooner,” Ashido mumbles, rubbing at her eyes fiercely. “The bar was noisy, and he just wanted to dump out some trash. Hanta noticed he was gone a while before we went out back and found him punching the last dude.”

Bakugou purses his lips. Truth be told, he cant believe Kirishima had gotten so badly hurt so close to his own bar, and he’s pissed as fuck that the idiot brigade had even let it happen, but the sincerity in Ashido’s voice tugs at his chest painfully.

“I’m sure he’ll forgive you.” Bakugou laughs humorlessly. “He’ll probably say there’s nothing to forgive in the first place.”

Ashido’s laugh is hollow, “That’s our Eijirou.” She looks at Bakugou again. “You coming tomorrow?”

He flashes her his best sneer. “You best believe I’m going to come by every single fucking day till he’s discharged.”

Ashido’s smile becomes a little more genuine, a little more well-rounded.

“I’m really glad he has you.” Her voice goes all soft and gross as she continues, “You mean a LOT to him, in case you didn’t already know.”

“Fuck off,” Bakugou mumbles, before waving her off and walking away.

Because he does know.

He also knows he’s falling madly in love with him, and that he’s completely and utterly screwed.

And he finds that he really doesn’t mind all that much. Some people, he rationalizes, are worth the horrible butterflies and the too hot too cold feelings down the back of his spine.

Some people, he realizes, are worth loving with everything you’ve got.

  It takes Kirishima five weeks of house arrest to recover completely. Bakugou spends every weekday and a few of the weekends with him, staying over more often than not. He fusses over the redhead, forces him to take his medication on time, and cooks him everything under the sun.

“You’re spoiling me,” the redhead whines when Bakugou serves him what smells like the best mapo tofu he’s ever going to have.

The blonde grins triumphantly, “You’re damn right I am.”

They bicker and banter constantly, but they also curl up and marathon old bond movies at night. Kirishima goes over the bar’s paperwork while Bakugou works off his couch, and they take turns making the coffee. Ruby falls in love with Bakugou and curls up on his chest every chance she gets, and Bakugou laughs at Kirishima’s look of betrayal. The redhead’s couch is ridiculously comfortable, and he leaves his memory foam pillow with the blonde.

“You refuse to take my bed,” he grumbles, “so you damn well better accept my stupid pillow.”

Bakugou’s neck thanks the redhead profusely.

It’s new and weird, living with someone for the first time. Kirishima’s posse are in and out through the day, and Camie comes by just as often, bringing a change of clothes and gossip with her. Todoroki drops in with some high-quality tequila sometimes and Inasa brings his infectious energy, and through all of this, Kirishima remains in high spirits, even if he goes a little stir crazy sometimes.

It’s new and it’s weird, going from casual touches to more loving ones, more comforting ones. It becomes commonplace for Bakugou to rest his head between Kirishima’s shoulder blades on the days that he has a bad time at work. It’s normal for Kirishima to place his head on Bakugou’s lap while they watch shark documentaries. It’s easy for them to bump knees and press their calves together while enjoying their morning coffee.

It’s new and it’s weird and it’s amazing.

Because Bakugou finds himself falling in love with the little things. The way Kirishima sticks his tongue out when he’s smashing the PS5 controller during an especially intense game of Mario party, the way he makes the coffee with a sleepy smile on his face, the way he hums off-key to a song that’s stuck in his head, the way he can understand Bakugou- can differentiate between his frustrated fuck, his bashful fuck, his angry fuck, his sleepy fuck.

And how he accepts it all without so much as a hitch in his step.

Bakugou watches himself fall in love, slowly, and then all at once.

  “How is it that he lived with you for almost 5 weeks and you STILL didn’t ask him out? Or kiss him stupid? Or something?”

Sero has a finger pinching the bridge of his nose, the other flexing loosely in front of his chest as he tries to fathom the stupidity of two people that could not be more into each other if they tried.

“I, I uh-“ Kirishima hangs his head, “I have no excuse.” He sighs deeply. “I was scared he’d give me a pity answer cause I was injured and everything.”

Ashido looks over her shoulder with incredulous eyes. “Are you kidding me?”

“What?”

“Eiji, I know you love us so like, if any of us were hurt like this you’d take care of us till we were better too. But do you think someone like BAKUGOU would practically move into someone’s house to make sure they were ok if he wasn’t nuts about them? Really?”

Kirishima’s face flushes, and he waves her away. “I don’t want to read into it. He’s just a really, really, really good guy. And what we have is good, it’s great! We’re bros. Pals. Friends. It’s all good.”

Ashido continues to stare at him for another moment before throwing her hands up and yelling, “BOYS!” She stomps into the kitchen to help Satou with prep for the day.

They continue to stock up the bar, Kirishima assigned to prepping limes and the ice machine, when the door opens and someone steps in.

“Sorry, we’re not op- Bakugou?”

And there stands the blonde with the biggest bouquet of flowers – chrysanthemums and sunflowers – that Kirishima has ever seen. The redhead distantly hears the sound of a door close behind him, and suddenly they’re alone, the tension positively stifling.

“Bakugo-“

“Go on a date with me.”

Kirishima sucks in a startled breath, his heart hammering in his chest.

“Go on a date. With me,” Bakugou repeats, his neck and ears tinging the loveliest shade of red. “The romantic kind. Where we dress up and get food and drinks and fight over the bill and walk each other to the door and get super awkward before we kiss. All that shit.”

Kirishima isn’t sure how it happens- one moment he’s on this side of the bar, the next, he’s jumping across and gathering Bakugou into a tight embrace, mindful of his newly healed ribs but still unwilling to release the blonde until Bakugou returns his hug, burying his face into Kirishima’s chest.

“Is that a yes?” Bakugou mumbles when they finally pull away, his hands fisted in Kirishima’s shirt.

“In every possible language out there,” Kirishima answers, ducking down to softly kiss Bakugou on the cheek. He laughs as the blonde cusses and shoves him away and laughs even harder when Bakugou’s own smile covers his entire face, bright and open and oh so breathtaking.

That smile is Kirishima’s and Kirishima’s alone.

  Eiji hiiiiiiiiiiii

Bakugou I swear to god Ei

Bakugou if you’re late for our first date I will find you

Eiji and give me a kiss? :*

Bakugou I don’t kiss people that don’t have good time management

Bakugou so fuck off

Eiji still so mean to me ☹

Eiji I want that kiss tho

Eiji so ill be ready

Eiji promise

Bakugou good

Eiji  <3

Bakugou <3

Eiji :D :D :D :D :D :D

Eiji YOU LIKE ME ENOUGH TO SEND EMOJIS HU H <3333

Bakugou it will never happen again

Bakugou so fuck right off

Eiji :”D

Bakugou im outside

Eiji be right there

Eiji <3  

#bnha #kiribaku #bakushima #kirishima eijirou #bakugou katsuki #flustered #boku no hero #mha #they're idiots your honor #giving out the wrong number au??? #if that's a thing?????? #this one's a monster y'all

[thechangeling]

Shame

Kit reflects on his life and his sexual orientation. I guess this is kind of a character study peice but also partly headcanon.

Ok so massive trigger warnings for internalized homophobia and biphobia. Also a 2012 definition and understanding of bisexuality and gender sk sorry about that but I wanted to be accurate to the time period.

I still have a lot of internalized homophobia even in the year of our lord 2021 so I wanted to work through it in my writing I guess.

"I think you're only fighting for the sake of fighting. Because it's the only state in which you can function. The only way to stop that voice in your head from driving you insane. The one telling you that you should be ashamed of yourself for having loved him."

- Black Sails: Season 2 Episide 5

Kit could remember the first time he felt it as clear as day. The first time he felt that twinge at the pit of his stomach after being reprimanded for talking about his crush on a boy. The inward cringe that followed. That disgust others showed him, reflected back onto himself.

Self loathing became as easy as breathing at such a young age.

He could distinctly remember being in mundane first grade and being asked by a loud girl with light blond hair and crystal blue eyes who he had a crush on. Kit had seen no reason to lie at the time. He had told the girl that he had two crushes. One on a girl in their class who was shy and asocial (he had always had a thing for nerds apparently) with her jet black hair that was always full of hello kitty clips, and another on a boy in a different class who was blond like him with a round face and a giant friendly smile that Kit loved to stare at.

At the time he had no real sense of the seriousness of what he was saying. No sense that he was breaking an unspoken rule in the eyes of his classmates. But Kit would never forget the look on the girls face. The eyes that narrowed in distain, the curled lip and the way her nose crinkled in disgust as she she said, "boys arent supposed to have crushes on boys. That's gross." And the cackling laughter of his classmates surrounding him.

And the feeling that followed, the one that would become as familiar and easy as breathing.

Shame.

That pinch in his gut and the way his blood went cold like someone had just injected him with antifreeze. And then the sinking in his chest accompanied by the realization that he had done something terrible. Kit realized that day that he could never make that same mistake again. So after that day he vowed never to talk about his interest in boys ever again.

The first time he heard the word gay he was eight and it was as an insult. It wasn't directed at him but it still felt like it was. He learned to make the connection between the word and disgust and contempt. But as he grew older he became relieved, because he knew he liked girls. He had always thought they were pretty with their soft skin and nice smelling hair. This meant he wasn't gay so he was safe. He convinced himself that he had just been confused before when he was younger.

So he grew up pushing those feelings to the side and telling himself convincing lies over and over until he finally believed it, and Johnny Rook made it easy. Kit was often so preoccupied with running cons and keeping a low profile that he didn't have much time for self reflection. When he found his gaze wandering, he told himself he was just being curious or suspicious or just appreciating an attractive guy from a purely aesthetic point of view and there was absolutely nothing else to it. He kissed pretty girls whenever he had the chance and enjoyed it and relished in the fact that this meant he was safe.

From an outside perspective it may have looked like Kit Herondale was losing control of the situation.

Maybe they were right.

Tiberius Nero Blackthorn felt like a giant fuck you from the universe for believing that he could ever escape this. Or maybe he was a test. But whatever Ty was, it was a little hard to care when he was animatedly explaining the reproductive cycle of a starfish and beaming at Kit with his rare carefree smile that made Kit feel like he was drowning in bliss.

And despite everything. Despite Kit's fear, it made him want to smile too. The urge to reach out and touch Ty was like a burning in his veins, accompanied by the foolish belief that if Kit could just run his fingers through Ty's matted black hair or press his forehead against his, then everything would be alright.

Kit wasn't sure if he should be grateful or furious.

"How beautiful" had been his first thought upon seeing him. Slipping out of some deep treacherous part of him before he could stop it. Followed of course by the shame.

But he wasn't gay. It didn't matter that Ty was beautiful and captivating and made him feel like he was strong enough to fight the gods themselves given the challenge. It didn't mean anything. He was just confused.

And when Julian made a comment about Herondales having a certain type when he called Clary hot, he ignored the twisting of his insides and the painful fact that his thoughts were drifting off into forbidden territory. He pretended that he was what Julian said he was. What he was supposed to be.

When Livvy had asked him to kiss her it felt like a lifeline. A way to distract himself from all the chaos in his life as well as a way to take his mind off of Ty. A pretty girl was giving him something to cling onto, if only for a moment. He still paused to look upwards. An automatic reflex. Almost as if he was a magnet trying to snap back into it's original place.

Livvy kissed him and although it was nice and sweet, he still felt nothing. Only longing for something else.

Then he learned about Kieran and how he was basically Mark's ex boyfriend. He had been sure that Mark was dating Emma so he asked Livvy about it. She had given him a confused look and just said that Mark was bisexual.

Bisexual.

He had heard the word before, mostly to describe celebrities who wanted to make a name for themselves in the tabloids. Kit had always quickly dismissed it before he could allow himself to actually ponder the idea. It was safer to assume it wasn't actually real, because if it wasn't real then it couldn't be him. He wouldn't have to face up to the fact that an attraction to men and women sounded uncomfortably accurate and familiar.

Bisexual. It gnawed at him in his sleep. Poking at his insides and refusing to let him forget it. And so Kit clued his eyes shut and squirmed his way out if it. He thought of the way Ty's smoke coloured eyes seemed to bore into Kit's soul. The sharp angles of his cheekbones and curve of his cupid's bow. Kit thought of the way Ty had asked if he could give Kit a permanent rune and when Kit had answered sarcasticly, Ty's crestfallen expression had horrified him to the point where Kit had practically begged Ty to do it.

Anything to get that look off Ty's face. But it wasn't like that he reminded himself. It wasn't love. It wasn't love.

Jesus. Love. Just the idea of the word sent Kit into a blind panic. And there was that old familiar feeling curling around his gut. That same disgust. That shame.

Not towards Ty. No of course not. He could never feel that way about Ty, or Mark or Kieran or Helen or Aline or anyone else because they didn't deserve it.

But he did. He always did.

When Livvy was killed, Kit almost felt a sense of relief because at least now he had something else to focus on, something g else to worry about. If he was focused on protecting Ty from his own worst instincts then he wouldn't have time to get list I'm thoughts he shouldn't be having.

He knew this made him a selfish horrible person. Kit accepted it.

Kit knew this plan of Ty's was a reckless and horrible idea but he just couldn't stand to see him in pain. He also couldn't bare the thought if what might happen if he refused to help Ty. Also he was helpless in the face of Ty's pleading gaze. Deep down Kit knew that he would probably do anything for him.

He would break himself trying to put Ty back together.

It wasn't until Ty actually attempted the spell that Kit finally cracked. He couldn't let Ty go through with this. He couldn't risk it.

Why? Something inside of him pondered.

Why?

Because Kit was going to die if something happened to Ty. The spell was going to go bad and Ty was going to get hurt or killed and Kit's heart was going to be brutally ripped from his chest and it was going to be unbearable.

Because-

"I love you Ty," he breathed, hating himself instantly. "I love you."

Ty didn't respond. He didn't react, didnt even flinch. Just stared blankly at Kit.

Shame.

It was going to ruin him. It was going to swallow him whole.

Yikes that was kinda all over the place sorry.

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#tsc #tda #the dark artifices #kit x ty #kit herondale #twp #ty blackthorn #tw internalized homophobia #tw internalized biphobia

[chaseatinydream]

pirate king (8) || atz

“Shit.”

It takes you a few seconds to register the words leaving Seonghwa’s mouth, but before you can even think about what you should do, the pair spring into action.

Yeosang downs his captain’s noodles in a single gulp, tosses the bowl aside and grabs you by the forearm, hauling you up the stairs the main deck, Seonghwa’s footsteps thundering behind you.

The god awful sound of the bell is still ringing in your ears, but it’s nothing compared to the chaos of the main deck. Pirates sprint back and forth, powder monkeys dashing to and fro carrying bags of gunpowder. You watch as the pirates at the gunwales move like the cogs of a well oiled machine, cleaning the long barrels of the cannons with a dry rammer, before charging them with bags of gunpowder. Other pirates start arming themselves with weapons and donning armour, putting out the torches on the main deck and plunging the entire ship into darkness.

But you already see it.

It must have slipped here, under the cover of night, a massive three masted frigate that almost towers above the Treasure. With snowy white sails and the royal emblem of the Crown, a single red rose, painted on its main sail, there is no doubt to you what this is.

A Royal Navy ship.

You turn to Seonghwa in horror, but you can barely make out his face in the pitch darkness, the only light coming from the half moon in the sky. Yeosang’s hand is still gripping yours tight, but otherwise from that, he is merely a dark shape silhouetted against the night.

Terror almost consumes you whole.

“Hyung, what do I-” You try to ask Yeosang, but the navigator shushes you urgently, pressing his lips against your ear. You can feel his heart pounding against your arm as he whispers to you in sharp, calm tone.

“Don’t make a sound. When it starts, I want you to run for the sickbay. San won’t be there, but don’t worry about him, he’s just getting to the wounded. Bolt the door and don’t open it till San comes back for you. If the enemy breaks down the door, don’t fight back. You don’t have the experience yet.”

You nod, your breaths coming out in near hysterical pants. The Royal Navy is here. They’re armed with cannons. They’re going to kill you, and probably destroy the whole ship too. They’ve already hit the ship. By now, water must be pouring into the bilge and in a matter of minutes the ship is going to sink-

Seonghwa envelops you in a tight hug.

“Don’t worry.” His voice is comforting, soft and gentle in contrast to the way your mind is screaming at you to escape somehow, to bolt before the Navy can fire the next cannon. You want to ask him how on earth he wants you to not worry, but then he strokes you on the head like he does after your cooking lessons for a job well done and the screaming in your mind fades to white noise. “We have Hongjoong’s blessing on our side. Trust us.”

You try to say something, but it comes out as a choked whimper. Your hands are trembling, but Yeosang squeezes them gently. You clear your throat and try again.

“What about the two of you?” You manage against the dry sobs. “What are you going to-”

“Fire!” Mingi’s voice rings out across the silence of the night.

This time, you almost forget to clap your hands over your ears again and all at once, a series of cracks threaten to split your eardrums and from the right the sound of wood splintering like twigs rings across the sea, acrid smoke filling your lungs. Coughing furiously, you barely hear Yeosang shouting for you to run over the screams of agony from the enemy ship which you realize is already a looming shape in front of you, his hand ripping apart from yours.

You try to reach for him, but he’s gone.

You’re completely alone.

“Starboard battery, fire!”

The entire ship rocks to one side as the iron projectiles smash into the side of the Treasure. There’s the sound of wood smashing, the cries of the wounded filling the air, and the smell of gunpowder forcing violent coughs from your lungs and your eyes to water. You stumble forward almost blindly with your hands in front of you, feeling the deck of the ship pitching and rolling violently beneath your feet as you rush to the sickbay.

You’re almost there when disaster strikes.

All of a sudden, the ship heels to the left and your fingers slip from the latch, you’re thrown violently across the deck only to smash into the barrels kept at the port side of the ship.

Something whistles above your head and by some form of sheer dumb luck you dive to the ground, rolling to the side as the barrels you have been crouching behind burst into splinters. Your hands instinctively fly up to protect your face, but the flying wood chips tear into the material of your shirt and graze your skin.

You can’t help yourself from looking back at the wreckage. There are two iron balls, connected by a thick chain lying amidst destroyed barrels and some shredded rope. Your heart pounds like you’ve just run thousands of miles. You can only gulp at what would have happened if you had been a fraction too slow.

“Hold tight, they’re about to hit us!” You hear Mingi scream over the chaos and you turn to stare at the rapidly approaching ship in horror. Then the quartermaster’s words finally register in your head and you’re diving for one of ropes of the mizzen mast’s rigging before you can even think about what you’re doing.

And not a second too late, because the moment your hands clamp around the rope in a vice grip, there is a grating sound of wood against wood that makes your very bones shudder, the entire ship groaning as the Royal Navy ship pulls up along the starboard. You’re thrown literally head over heels by the insane force, rolling over the ground of the main deck. For a moment, you’re straining against the rope as your fingers desperately try to hold on.

There’s screaming all around you, and then the ship tilts back the same way it came from, back towards the starboard, and you’re sent tumbling back across the deck once more like a limp rag doll. Every inch of your body shrieks in protest at the repeated battering and bruising, but then the rope lengthens and you find yourself very nearly thrown over the gunwales of the ship.

Then you scream. Very loudly. Because the upper half of your body is dangling over the bulwarks and your grip on the rope is slipping.

Beneath you is the inky black, bottomless expanse of the ocean. Once you fall in, it will consume you like it has so many others, slowly depriving you of the air you breathe until you finally give up, sinking to the bottom of the seabed where crabs climb over your dead and bloated corpse and pick at your lifeless eyes.

Then you see the crew of the Royal Navy ship on small skiffs and boats, armed to the teeth with muskets and sabers and grappling hooks.

One of them spots you and raises his gun.

Your heart drops in your chest as he prepares to fire.

Someone’s hand grabs you by the back of your collar and roughly yanks you back onto the deck as the wooden railing in front of you splinters from the musket ball, right where your head had been.

You turn to stare at your savior in wide eyed horror, your breaths coming out in ragged pants as you desperately try to recover from your near death experience. To your shock, it’s the younger battlemaster from earlier this day, Jongho, primed musket in hand. He gives you a questioning look and raises the firearm to point right in your face.

“Wait-” You panic but then he shoots to the left of your head, and you whip around to see a Navy officer who had been climbing over the bulwarks fall backwards with a bullet in his head. The maknae curses and draws his cutlass, shearing through the grappling hook and you hear the scream of another officer who had been climbing the rope as he plunges into the sea, never to be seen again.

“What are you doing here?” He snaps at you, as he primes his musket again, eyes locked on the enemy ship looming behind you. There’s another round of booming cannon fire and you almost shriek in alarm once more, getting ready to dive to the ground, but then you hear the screams of agony from the crew on the deck of the enemy ship.

“Grapeshot.” Jongho mutters under his breath as he holsters his musket in his belt, eyes scanning the complete mayhem around you. You don’t know what the word means. “Good job, Wooyoung-ssi.” Then he turns back to you, a hard glare on his face.

“Shouldn’t you be in the sickbay or something? How did you end up at the main mast?”

Main mast?

You glance around in shock. In the confusion and pandemonium, you’ve somehow ended up further from the sickbay than where you started. You open your mouth to reply, but your words are cut off by screaming from the stern area.

“They’ve boarded us!”

Jongho spits out another curse, grabbing a knife from his belt and sending it flying at an officer that had been aiming his rifle at you in one smooth motion. Your hands fly to your mouth and you watch with wide eyes as blood spurts from his neck, his knees buckling beneath him and his body falling to the ground with a soft thump.

You force the bile in your throat down at the sight.

The young battlemaster glances between you and the stern, where the fighting is taking place. More and more Navy soldiers have started to board and they’ve organised themselves into a wedge formation, defending the grappling hooks so more of their fellows can join them.

Grinding his teeth, he turns to the bow, only to watch the fabric of the top mainsail get shredded by a bar shot and the resulting splinters fly everywhere, showering the deck in a deadly hail. Nowhere is safe, especially not for a tiny slip of a thing like you.

Then he makes up his mind and shoves a musket into your hands. “Here.” Drawing the dagger that Yunho had given you that morning from your belt and thrusting it at you, he grabs you by the hand and yanks you forward by the wrist towards the stern. “Stay behind me and don’t get in the way.”

You open your mouth to question what exactly he intends for you to do with the musket, since you have no idea how to use it, but then the two of you are in the thick of fighting and you don’t have the brain capacity to form words anymore.

Jongho keeps one hand around your wrist as he pulls you forward through pandemonium of the main deck. Swords flash from every direction and the air is sour with smoke from the gunpowder. For a moment, you wonder if you’re going deaf from the repeated pounding of cannon shot.

Suddenly, a Navy soldier looms out of the darkness in front of you, blade drawn. You barely have time to scream and duck before Jongho jerks you to the side by the arm, his own cutlass curving down in a deadly arc, splitting the man from shoulder to hip. Your eyes and mouth close on reflex as still warm blood splatters across your face and front, but you have no time to panic as Jongho continues moving aft once more. The coppery tang of blood fills your mouth and you wipe the blood from your face, only to nearly gouge your own eyes out with the dagger you’re holding as the Treasure suddenly heels, the bow turning away from the enemy ship.

You spit the blood from your mouth.

“What’s going on-”

“Hongjoong-hyung’s trying to move away from the enemy ship so we can fire explosives instead of resorting to hand to hand combat.” Jongho grunts, flicking the blood from his sword. “I need to get you to the sickbay before I help the crew out, so get moving.”

The threatening tone in his voice kind of terrifies you.

The two of you continue your mad dash, ducking beneath swinging axes and gunfire. It reminds you of your run from the harbor, except this time the ground is rocking back and forth under your feet. And if you thought Jongho was talented, you had obviously never seen talent before, because the young battlemaster fights like an actual demon.

Somehow, with one arm on you, he still mows through the soldiers like a battering ram, scattering enemy left and right. His cutlass dances a deadly tango, flickering like a snake’s tongue, darting in and striking through his opponent’s guard. You’re left in awe of his skill, but he doesn’t really give you much time to appreciate it

.After what seems like an eternity later, you finally reach the stern. Huffing from the exertion, your fingers fumble with doorknob and to your immense relief, the door swings open. For a moment, you panic when you see that San isn’t there, but then the ship suddenly lurches to the side once more and you’re thrown against the door frame violently.

Your fingers slip over the trigger and the deafening sound of a musket shot echoes in your ears.

Your head whips backwards in horror, only to find the lead shot embedded in the chest of a Navy soldier who’d been engaged in a fight with Jongho. The man crumples to the ground, a pool of red spreading beneath his body, but then you see the blood seeping from Jongho’s shoulder where your bullet has grazed him.

The maknae turns to give you a deadly stare.

“I’m so sorry.” You gulp, honestly starting to fear for your life.

“You troublesome-” Jongho begins, but you never get to hear what he was saying as Mingi’s shout tears through the bedlam on board. “We’re pulling away! Clear the deck! Starboard battery, switch to explosives!”

When you glance back at the starboard, the Royal Navy ship has indeed gotten further, much to the relief sagging in your chest. Captain must have managed to outrun the enemy.

You see Yunho rally a team of pirates and they bear down on the soldiers in a pincer formation, forcing them overboard. Other officers, seeing their advantage rapidly being lost, throw themselves over the side rather than face the tall warrior in a berserker’s rage.

“Starboard battery, fire!”

The deck of the Royal Navy ship is bombarded with shot that burst into flames the moment they make contact with the wood. But a single cannon ball slams into the hull right above the waterline, punching a hole in the side of the ship.

Your mouth falls open. That’s where the storage hold of the ship is, where the stocks of gunpowder are kept.

Then the ship is engulfed in flame, a mass of burning wreckage in the distance as the Treasure pulls away, leaving the sinking ship and its dying crew in its wake.

#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #ateez hongjoong #ateez seonghwa #ateez yunho #ateez yeosang #ateez san #ateez jongho #ateez wooyoung #ateez mingi #ateez pirate king #hongjoong #seonghwa #yunho #yeosang #san #mingi #jongho #wooyoung w; ot8 #w; fanfiction #w; pirate king