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no-droids · 4 years

Text

Mercy, Sabotage, and Dead Space

(gif credit to @redwyyne-archive)

Part One of The Bet series

Pairing: Poe Dameron/Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 12.7K

Summary:

1. No sex.

2. No touching yourself.

3. No orgasms.

Warnings/Tags: DUBCON/NONCON elements, fuckboy Poe (OOC), Enemies to Lovers, degradation/humiliation, mentions of oral sex, SMUUUTTTTTTTT also I’m not sorry for what I did but you’re not allowed to read if you’re gonna get mad at me okay byeeee

***

This.

This shit, right here.

If the question was ever, “What’s the stupidest fucking thing you’ve ever let Poe Dameron somehow talk you into doing?” then the answer is this stupid shit, right the fuck here. This is like. You remember that one game, Mercy? The one where you’d dig your nails in and twist arms and just needlessly inflict pain on each other as children until one of you cried uncle because someone somewhere once decided to turn torture into a matter of pride?

You always thought those games were fucking ridiculous. Who can hold their breath the longest, who can handle a lit deathstick against their flesh the longest, who can take the hardest punch—who cares? It’s child’s play. It’s self-inflicted agony for the sake of bragging rights and even as a youngling, you refused to fall for it.

But then you met… fucking Dameron.

You know those people that… they don’t just rub you the wrong way, but literally every single aspect about their personality is sandpaper against wet skin and your whole entire being feels chafed raw just by existing in their general vicinity for an extended period of time?

You’re… you’re not usually a competitive—much less aggressive person. You never have been. It’s just not part of your nature. If you ever excel at anything in life, it isn’t because of some secret, deep-seated desire to win or be better than anyone else. You just… do you. You do whatever you do, and if it’s good, it’s good. And if it’s bad, it’s good. Because at the end of the day at least it’s still you, and you’re okay with that.

But this?

This shit? Right here?

“This is fucking dumb,” you say, because you know it’s what you both must be thinking so you may as well just get it out in the open. “This is the dumbest fucking thing, Dameron. What are we doing? Why are we doing this?”

The grumpy, orange-jumpsuited figure sitting behind you just sighs heavily and slumps even further down in his bucket seat, as if it isn’t the first time you’ve tried asking this incredibly valid question (it totally is), bringing a palm down to thunk the top of the guidance controls between his legs in a quiet irritation you’re almost certain has everything to do with the very topic you’re trying to bring up.

“Because,” comes that infuriating drawl. You can only see his face from this angle by looking at his reflection in the transparisteel barrier directly in front of you, but even just imagining the way his mouth moves while he rounds out the words makes your jaw clench. “The coordinates we picked up were scrambled and this rendezvous could be going down at any one of thirty-six locat—?”

“No,” you interrupt him with a scowl, “not why I’ve been floating in dead space in this Maker-forsaken ship with you for eight fucking hours a day since… fuck, what’s today? Thursday? Friday? Nope, can’t be Friday, Friday’s our off-day. Thursday, then. …Thursday?” You shake your head. “Ugh, see? Time doesn’t exist when I’m not allowed to cum, life is like one never-ending nightmare.”

“Oh.” He takes a second to think about it in silence, the calloused tips of his fingers scratching the side of his face while he considers. It wouldn’t usually be as loud as it is right now. Maybe it’s the haunting quiet of space surrounding the ancient powered down hunk of metal you’re both stuck in, inadvertently isolating and amplifying the sound—or maybe it’s because your copilot’s jaw is currently covered in a thick, dark beard that you swear barely took his testosterone-overloaded ass a fucking week or two to grow, if that. Regardless, the dark bristles crunch loudly under his short fingernails and it takes you about a grand total of five whole uninterrupted seconds of the scraping sound to realize you’re grinding your teeth along with it. “Well,” he finally says, “that was your stupid idea.”

“Hmmmmmmmno,” you contest firmly, wiggling your elbow back to poke at his shin with your index finger once, twice, thrice, until he finally slaps your hand away in quiet irritation. To the misfortune of you both—and likely the other hundred or so pilots concurrently taking rotating shifts in these tandem x-wings in a glorified mass stakeout, the cockpit of this ship is just way too fucking small. Your arm is squeezed uncomfortably against machinery and electronics to get to him from this angle and a light slap isn’t going to stop you now that you’re here. “You—” (poke) “—have a superiority complex and decided to turn it into a competition, not—” (poke) “—me.”

“Oh, I have a superiority complex, okay,” he scowls and nods in vehement, fake agreement, finally giving up and letting you poke at will, but the appeal is lost as soon as you realize he’s over it and your arm eases back into your lap. You watch his reflection look out of the viewport and scan the empty void of space for the twentieth time in the past five minutes, clearly just as desperate to get back to base as you are. “So what is it you call saying—wait, no no, not even saying, loudly declaring—‘Of course I can go longer without sex than “wham bam thank you ma’am” Dameron, you brainless fucks, it’s a simple fact!’”

“Alright—I don’t sound like that, fuck you very much,” you return, in reference to his shrieking, high-pitched impression of you surrounded by your fellow pilots in the rec room when you’ve had a bit too much to drink. “Also, you don’t have to finger-quote literally every single syllable of my fucking sentence, Dameron. First and last word, that’s all it takes. And if it’s so superiority complex-ey of me to state simple facts, then what is it you call saying ‘betcha two weeks worth of pay you can’t, pretty baby’?”

“Uh, easy credits?” He immediately asks, side-eyeing your reflection through the transparisteel. “ Easy credits. Just begging for it. Two weeks of your slutty, sexy, easy fucking credits just begging to be taken and used— ”

“You need to get laid,” you cut in to tell him bluntly, scrunching your nose in what you hope looks like disgust. As per protocol, the power to the x-wing was cut at the beginning of your shift—what feels like a fucking eternity ago—as a preventative maneuver in case the target falls out of hyperspace unexpectedly. Avoiding the scanners of a fleet that may never actually show means it’s cold and dimly lit in here—just starlight in front of either you, but you’re hoping he can gauge the severity of your revulsion with your back to him. “You just turned my money into a sex object. It was vile. I feel violated on its behalf.”

“Sounds like you’re the one who needs to get laid,” he tosses carelessly back at you, and you roll your eyes with as much sass as you can physically muster, so tired of all the dodging. You know this hasn’t been easy for him either, he just has too much pride to admit it. “Besides, you’ve gotta be past the withdrawal stage by now. Is it really all that bad?”

“The fuck you mean, ‘Is it really all that bad’?” You snap at him, shuffling around grumpily in your seat, hating the way the bulky weapons controls sit right between your thighs and prevent you from closing them. Withdrawal stage, ha. “Of course it’s all that bad. It’s horrible. It’s the fucking worst. And more importantly, how are you not having any trouble with this? Oh, wait—that’s right,” you answer yourself before he has a chance to. “Because you cheated.”

“I did not cheat,” Dameron’s reflection immediately challenges with an accusatory finger pointed at you. “I did not. When the fuck did I cheat? I swapped housing assignments with your shitty roommate and slept in the bunk below yours for a month and a half—all because you don’t believe in the honor system—just so you could tell me I fucking cheated?”

You scoff, feeling your annoyance spark even more. He’s always been able to get under your skin, but the neglect you’ve been forcing your body to endure is just throwing gasoline on an already roaring fire. “Okay, first of all? Rude. I am a fucking joy to have as a roomie, alright? I put up with your snoring, your 2:00 AM dinners, you blasting your radio while I’m trying to sleep, I barely complain about your body odor—”

“My snoring is adorable, I get snacky at night, only sad people with fucked up lives hate music, I smell amazing,” Dameron casually lists off on his fingers, the self-confidence so easy and unshakeable that you swear he’s almost preening at the compliments he just gave himself by the time he’s finished rebutting everything you can think to throw at him. And, while you’d never admit it, he does smell good. He smells… unbelievably fucking good. Always. Something dark and woodsy, you can never quite put your finger on. It pisses you off, so much that you’ve made a habit of pulling a face of disgust whenever the warm, rich scent noticeably reaches you, hoping it deflates his ego just a little bit. No such luck so far.

“Whatever. The point is I’m a good fucking neighbor, alright, I’m neighborly as fuck,” you grumble, crossing your arms over your chest defensively. “And don’t make it sound like I’m putting a chastity lock on your balls every night, because you can fuck anyone you want. In fact, I strongly fucking encourage it—I just want to know about it when it happens.”

Dameron smirks and you groan, already knowing what’s coming. “You wanna hear it?”

Yep, there it is. “Second of all—”

“Feel the whole bunk rock with it?” He goes on, completely ignoring you. “Use the excuse that you’re trapped up top so you can just stay there the whole time and listen? You know you can do a lot more than just—”

“Second of all,” you project over him, “you’re seriously telling me you haven’t had any wet dreams then, hm? No snorgasms? Hmmm? No happy naps? No captain midnights? No mattress fracking? Hmmmmmm???”

His voice very quickly sounds… shocked. “How many fucking euphemisms—?”

“Wait wait, one more—” you quickly interrupt, too much momentum to stop now, “—sleepskeet.”

You watch in immense satisfaction as his expression seems to progress through all five stages of grief, before he exhales a long, unamused sigh and scratches his beard again. You want to pluck each strand of it out of his face one by one. “Anyways. Wet dreams are totally different and don’t count.”

“It’s not different!” You burst out, unable to help yourself, “it’s an orgasm, and rule number three is no orgas—”

“I know what the rules were, Gold-Ten,” he returns calmly, and it infuriates you, how he’s always able to make it seem like you’re the instigator who’s overreacting. And he knows exactly what he’s doing by calling you by your flight designation, and it pisses you off even more because calling him Black-Leader in any other situation besides active warfare just feels like an unnecessary reminder of his skills. Why he’s currently behind you manning the guidance controls and why you’re currently stuck in the front seat with the bulkier weapons systems. “The question is if you’re seriously that bad enough of a sport to automatically disqualify me because of something that happens to any human with a dick indiscriminately when we blueball ourselves.”

“But that’s the entire fucking point, Dameron!” You shrill, throwing your hands in the air in pure exasperation. “There it is! You need it more than I do, you just said it yourself! Not to mention I said I can go longer without sex than you can— sex , not orgasms, but as it turns out I win at both. Now can we please call this shit off so I can finally cum? This isn’t fun anymore.”

“Nope,” he says immediately, popping the P with a bit too much hard emphasis to be genuinely amused. He’s frustrated, too—his voice is too pleased, too fake to not be masking irritation underneath. “Sorry. But this was also your stupid idea, so.”

“You’re insufferable,” you grumble, anger flaring equal to his, just way more… verbal. And descriptive. “Wet dreams don’t count, fucking right. Tell that to the oceans of Kamino I got going on down there, huh? I move on this seat wrong and I’ll slide off it—”

A loud slam of a palm against the controls suddenly echoes throughout the small cockpit, causing you to jump slightly.

“Don’t,” Dameron snarls, “... say shit like that to me. Not right now. Not right now, fuck .”

You go quiet for a moment, not expecting that much of an outburst at something you considered to be a throwaway remark, but then… oh. Something occurs to you, something… sinister. Oh, well, now there’s an idea.

Everything inside you immediately surges up and burns at the thought—the mere whisper of a way out of all of this, quickly, without giving in and letting him hold your surrender over you for Maker knows how long. It’s so fucking simple, you don’t know why you didn’t think of it before. You don’t have to wait him out at all; instead, you just need to… entice him into giving in first.

Neither of you say anything for a while, and you don’t know what he’s thinking (nothing, probably—a dry tumbleweed bouncing across an empty desert landscape, you imagine) but you take the dip in conversation to consider a plan. You can’t go at it too outright, it’ll be too big of a turnaround and he’ll see it coming lightyears away. A halfhearted joke about your pussy tossed out without thinking is what catalyzed the most substantial reaction from him you’ve seen, so… maybe you can keep steering the conversation towards the idea.

“How many wet dreams have you had?” You suddenly ask, your heart beginning to pick up in your chest as soon as the words are out of your mouth.

“Excuse me?” Dameron grunts from behind you, and you catch his reflection raising a thick eyebrow at you.

You take a deep breath and disguise it by stretching your back out just a little bit, lifting your shoulder blades and arching the sore muscles there, before settling back down in your normal crappy posture once more. “Now many times did you cum in your sleep? Had to at least been once for you to claim they don’t count.”

“Why does it matter?” He asks, completely sidestepping the question for the second time. “It was involuntary.”

You shrug. “Just so I know how many freebies I can get tonight.”

“No,” Dameron instantly counters, his voice dead serious. “Not fucking allowed.”

“Why not?” You ask, and this time, there’s significantly less challenge than you’d typically deliver it with. Instead, your voice is soft, questioning. Not argumentative, but curious, and there’s just enough of your point left unsaid that it’ll seem like he conjured the rest of the image himself.

There’s silence while he considers his response to the perfectly executed bait. You assume you’re both picturing the same thing, because it’s what you’ve pictured almost every single night spent in this celibate hellscape. The cool darkness of your shared quarters, the standard-issue sheets that still feel crispy and rough on your skin no matter how many nights you’ve slept in them, with one of your hands pressed tight over your mouth and two of your fingers circle your clit.

“You only get to do it if I’m in the room,” he poses instead, and you swallow thickly, feeling your body tighten with an unintentional drop of pure heat through your tummy at the thought. Maker, it must be really bad if Poe fucking Dameron is getting to you like this. The bane of your existence shouldn’t make your insides twist in on themselves—at least, not in a good way.

“Not like I’d have much choice,” you eventually respond, keeping it purposefully ambiguous. “It’s your room, too. Unfortunately.”

Stars, it’s been so long since you’ve done this, since you’ve walked the fine line between flirtation and seduction, wanting to turn on the charm slowly—gradually ease it up like a hyperdrive lever under your fingertips so that you’re at maximum by the time he realizes you’re even there. You take a moment to glance at his reflection, watching Dameron look back at you curiously, a flash of interest in his eyes.

“By the way, how does that one girl feel about us doing this?” You ask out of nowhere, suddenly remembering the existence of his pretty little number. You’ve seen her under his arm around base at least a few times, which is more than you can say for the rest of them. “Red-Six. Tall brunette with the tattoos—I don’t bother learning names, they all come and go.”

“Nihla,” Dameron nods with a wistful sigh, tilting his head to rest against his shoulder. “Or, wait… Neah. No—it was… Nalal. Yeah, Nalal, I think that’s right…”

“Unbelievable,” you mutter. “One of the greatest mysteries of the universe is how many people get in line for you, I’ll never fucking understand it.”

“They just want me for my cock,” he tells you without missing a single beat, sounding like he’s not joking in the slightest. “It was starting to get obnoxious. Glad I finally have an excuse to turn them down.”

“Unbelievable,” you repeat, stunned by how truly, mind-blowingly full of himself he is. “You’re… fucking…”

You end up just staring at him and making a sound somewhere between a laugh and a scoff, at a complete loss for words, and Dameron eventually shrugs and continues on after you fail to form a coherent thought in the allotted time frame he provides.

“Now I can just tell them I’m in a long-running bet with Gold-Ten over who can sexually deprive themselves the longest and weirdly enough, they don’t seem all that interested anymore,” he remarks, tilting his chin up and rubbing at his beard again, and for some reason… the sound of it bothers you somewhat less now, the way he phrased that resonating deeper inside you than it should. Lower than it should. You blink a few times, almost shocked by your body’s unprecedented response to his admission—Poe Dameron uses you as an excuse to turn down sex with pretty girls? Happily?—and your mind goes blank for a second while he watches you through the transparisteel. “It’s alright,” he eventually goes on, tilting his head. “Sometimes a sabbatical is good. I do really miss pussy, though.”

“Well,” you finally tell him, oddly not having much else to offer at the moment. “I’m sorry? And… you’re welcome. I guess.”

Dameron shrugs once more and makes an apathetic sound without opening his mouth, and you drop your stare down to the machinery between your spread thighs after feeling like you were looking at each other for too long. The position started uncomfortable and seven hours later, it’s still fucking uncomfortable. At first the discomfort twinged at your hips and lower back, but now the sensation seems to be… centering itself a bit more, finding a spot right between your legs, especially when his words echo through your subconscious and make you naturally want to push your thighs together. I do really miss pussy, though.

You try to snap out of it a bit, try to stop hyperfixating on the way your underwear has felt sticky and wet for fucking hours now, but it’s so fucking difficult to chill yourself out when your body already went into this whole situation with a month and a half long stumbling block. He’s not really doing anything at all—he’s leant back in his chair and staring out the window into the black emptiness of space when you steal a look once more, but something about how his casual responses are affecting you makes it seem like he’s the one currently seducing you.

Maker, you have to focus. You have to control yourself. You’re starting to feel a little warm in your thick jumpsuit—a particular shade of orange that does not compliment your complexion but you normally rejoice in wearing regardless. It’s baggy and uniform and hides most of your curves and most importantly, it keeps you toasty on missions like this. Space is cold —especially this far out in the Cauper Void, and there’s no fucking reason this powered down hunk of floating metal should feel as muggy and stifling as it does in here.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” you suddenly hear yourself say, spontaneously, no thought put into it whatsoever. One last try, one last attempt to avoid it, a last-ditch go at flight before he gives you no choice and you’re left with this one remaining option. “This isn’t a good idea. It’s… not healthy. I don’t want to do this anymore.”

This gets a small chuckle out of him. “I know you don’t, pretty baby.”

“Then let’s just call the whole thing off,” you propose once again, trying to lighten your tone, make it a… a friendly thing. It sounds so fake, even to your own ears—since when would you be desperate enough to let the dreaded petname slide?—but granted, you know what they say about time and measures and all that shit. “We can call it a tie, just go back to the way things were befo—”

He cuts you off and pins you with his gaze through the reflection. “You realize that you begging me to put an end to your suffering is—ridiculously hot, mostly—but also only an incentive to make me keep pushing until you finally give in?”

You groan and comb some of your hair off your forehead, not liking the way it’s getting just the slightest bit damp. “Fine, we won’t call it off, but can we at least just stop—” You immediately catch yourself, not wanting to unintentionally push this too far too quickly, but your hesitation is clear and compelling enough for him to prompt you.

“At least just stop what?” Dameron asks, and though you don’t think it’s intentional or even noticeable from his perspective, something about the way his voice sounds… husky. Low to the ground.

“Stop dragging it out,” you breathe, your heart pounding. Why is your heart pounding so fucking fast? This is a fucking sting op, a facade, so why are you getting so caught up in the lie you’ve spun for yourself? “Finish it. Sooner, rather than later. Quit being masochists about it, just fucking put it to—”

Maker, your eyes instinctively snap to his at your poor choice of wording, having almost said bed on complete accident. Genuinely, you didn’t mean to phrase it that way, but at the same time, the thought of it almost burns you alive. Fuck. Dameron, and you, in bed. It could be mean. It could be rough. A fight for dominance more than anything. He’s bigger than you and he could make it fucking hurt, especially after going without it for as long as you have, but something about how double-edged that type of relief would be isn’t really sinking in for you right now. Like a person slowly dying of thirst that’s fantasizing about drowning. Regardless, the idea of a night with him and the sudden assortment of vivid imagery it provides is enough to get you to shut up and take a deep breath, just wait with your mouth shut for whatever his response is.

Unfortunately, you don’t have to wait long at all.

“This is cute,” he suddenly tells you, and you jerk back and sputter a bunch of consonants stupidly like he smacked you.

“Fuck you?” Are the first recognizable words that can be heard. “I’m not—this isn’t fucking— cute?”

“It’s cute,” Dameron repeats, hiding a soft smile from you with a few of his fingers pressed to his lips. “You,” he says as he points at your reflection, twirling his finger around in circles, “trying to be all sneaky about it, go about your little performance. It’s like… watching a little kid just blatantly fuck up a magic trick but they’re naive enough to think it’s working. Keep going, I’m enthralled.”

You hold still for just a second as ice suddenly sinks through your tummy and clears away any trace of warmth you may have once felt from before. Of course. Stupid. Stupid, you shouldn’t have even tried something like that, you don’t know why you thought…

Horrifyingly, you go dead silent and the lack of an immediate response from you hangs awkwardly in the still air. You’re usually so quick with him, so fiery, letting the things he throws at you just glide right off you, but for some insane reason, you’re actually fucking… embarrassed? A little bit?

You should say something, but your whole body is just frustratingly blank, almost buzzing in mortification, and it gets worse and worse the longer you stay quiet. You don’t usually put yourself in a position to be compromised, and you certainly didn’t think the place he decided to jab this time had particularly thin skin.

You… you’d forgotten what it’s like to have someone laugh at you when you’re genuinely trying your best to flirt.

Well, it’s too late to say anything now, you think. Now it’s just uncomfortable in here—true discomfort, not the typical angry silences. You’re used to that, you’re used to huffing and crossing your arms and ticking your jaw through the breaks in conversation, refusing to say a word because you’re beyond pissed off. This is different. This quiet sits different in the air, this emotion hits different in your chest, somewhere vulnerable. A crack in your armor he found without even necessarily intending to, but at this point, the stupid way you can’t seem to hide the wound from him is just as much to blame.

“So, uh…” Dameron clears his throat as you shut your eyes tight against the awkwardness, but you can still feel a strange little shift in the air from behind you. There’s something about the enclosed space, the quiet darkness surrounding you both, you feel… too close to him. Sharing his air, feeling the energy when it’s cramped and you’re not able to just get up and storm away from him like normal. You don’t like it. You don’t like that you can immediately tell something has changed without being able to see him, that type of intimacy between you is pushing a boundary you can’t quite pinpoint but know exists.

You snap your eyes open and look over at Dameron’s reflection when he’s quiet for too long, and though you try to glare as fiercely as possible at him while you do it, the look on his face almost stops you dead. The pure intensity raging in his expression, the way he’s got his eyes narrowed, flicking back and forth between yours, carefully studying you, wondering if perhaps he may have gotten it all wrong. “I mean, y’know. Theoretically speaking, and all. If I broke, you’d let me fuck you?”

You… aren’t expecting that.

You don’t know why but your heart suddenly starts to race again, but it’s not the same as before. Before it was speeding up and at an angle, like a rocket trying to escape a body’s gravitational pull, to go somewhere, search for something. This time it just feels like it’s ricketing downhill, unsteady and out of control, about to break apart with every single pothole that rattles and slams through you. Shit. You didn’t expect the ultimatum would be presented to you so up front like that—you thought there’d be… some resistance, at least.

Fuck, you take way too fucking long thinking about it, and your face feels warmer and warmer the more you mentally pick apart his specific phrasing, wondering where you should even begin. You still haven’t said anything, but the damage is already done. What should've been a firm, instantaneous go fuck yourself is left suspended, unanswered, open for interpretation. You miss your window of opportunity to shut him down, you overshoot it by a longshot, and then you feel that spark of a what-if flare deep down once more.

No, fucking stop it. Stop it. Maker, your eyes do everything they can to not look at him while you concentrate and work to tap into your anger, stoking the flames of your fire to avoid feeling… temptation. How dare he? How fucking dare he do this to you, especially when there’s no chance to get out of here, to abort mission and cut your losses? You clench your jaw and isolate that fury, magnify it until it’s the only thing you can feel anymore.

“My turn now,” Dameron eventually breaks the silence to clarify, blinking at you, and by this point you’re so fucking pissed off that you don’t recognize that isn’t actually a question.

“No,” you immediately snap, strung far too thin to deal with this new, treacherous territory with him. Defaulting to normal is best, it’s easier. “No, it’s not your turn, and fuck no, you can’t fuck me, not even if it means I win this stupid bet. No to everything that has anything to fucking do with you, alright? Don’t talk to me. You’re lucky if I agree to sleep in the same fucking room as you tonight. And—and?—I think your beard looks dumb.”

Okay, so maybe the last part was just a little bit childish, but you’re in such a bad fucking mood and you want to insult something he’s clearly just trying out for right now, hasn’t yet solidified as part of his usual appearance and unshakeable confidence in it. It’s a downright lie—you think he might look more attractive with it than he ever has. Effortlessly rugged and masculine, framing his face and making his eyes all the more piercing.

You don’t think it works, but regardless, he heeds your sharp words and says nothing for a good few minutes at least. You had hoped the break in interaction would allow you the ability to reset a little bit, give yourself time to work through it, but it’s like the pressure in the air steadily increases regardless of how silent it is in here—or perhaps, because of it.

You can’t help it. You flick your eyes to the transparisteel in front of you once more and catch his reflection staring directly at you, unmoving. It jars you as much as it sparks your anger, and you glare down at your hands and give him a few seconds. A few seconds of grace, of mercy, before you try again.

Sure enough, he’s still got his dark eyes pinned to you when you go to check once more, like he’s actually fucking thinking about something right now, which is just… astounding, for obvious reasons. Mainly, the nerve of him. The fucking nerve of him to be able to look at you like that, like he’s just entitled to study your every feature, searching your eyes for things you’ve never looked deep enough to find within yourself, making incredibly loud assumptions with his mind that he has absolutely no right to be making.

“Shut up,” You snap at him defensively, feeling like you’re sweating buckets even in the freezing emptiness of dead space. You can’t figure out if it’s a cold sweat or if your body is legitimately just malfunctioning under his stare. “Shut up.”

You watch as his reflection suddenly drops his head back against the seat and rolls out the stiffness of his neck, blinking his eyes shut and raising his eyebrows like you’re completely overreacting, like he has absolutely no idea. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You’re not that dumb,” you challenge. “You’re… plotting. Evil plotting.”

A thick eyebrow drops so that only one is quirked up, and a grin pulls at his lips.

“You’re right,” Dameron admits casually after a moment with his eyes still closed, his voice pitched low in the cramped ship. “I was thinking about what it’s gonna take to get you to lose.”

You swallow against the dryness in your throat, starting to unintentionally bounce one of your legs up and down without even realizing it. Fuck, this ship is small, it’s too fucking small in here—you gaze wistfully out at the vast endlessness of space, wanting to grit your teeth at the irony of being surrounded by the one thing you so desperately wish you had.

“I just have to find a weakness,” he shifts forward in his seat and reveals to you, bewilderingly shameless in his honesty. Like all of a sudden you’re an accomplice to this endeavor instead of its target, as if he isn’t spoiling the secret by letting you in on it. “Something that you like, that gets you going. Something that riles you up, gets you all hot and bothered down there—”

“So you can exploit it,” you huff, slouching over a bit and trying not to sound like you’re pouting.

“—so I can exploit it,” he finishes happily, collapsing back into his seat like he’s glad you caught on so quick and he doesn’t have to explain further. “Now we can do the whole routine—the bickering, the tension, the undeniable sexual chemistry we have—or we can skip all that and you can just tell me flat out what it’s gonna take to rev that pretty little engine up, because I want it purring.”

And, it’s so fucking weird, because the specific verbiage that would normally make you cringe just hearing it spoken aloud doesn’t inspire the typical response, even though it feels like it should. It feels like you should be grossed out, it feels like a moment you should screw up your facial expression and act offended, but you’re… not. This is actually fucking working, it’s unbelievable. The undeniable fact infuriates you just as much as it stumps you.

“You do realize that everything you say is a game that two can play at, right?” You point out, not really sure where you’re going with this but feeling heated about it all the same. “What’s stopping me from exploiting something you like?”

“See now that’s a great idea,” Dameron announces, clapping his hands together happily and sending you jumping a few inches in your seat at the sudden sound, your hand automatically shooting up to rest on your thumping heart. “I can tell you what I like, and you can just listen.”

Alright, no, wait—backtrack—

“How about I tell you what I don’t like,” you snip breathlessly, tucking your hair behind your ear and feeling all the blood rush to your cheeks. Default to normal, default to normal. “Your fucking attitude. Your demeanor. The way you talk down to me. You don’t listen. You walk around like you’re such hot shit just because you’re a good pilot but none of that means anything when you don’t ever fucking listen. You’re terrible at it, doesn’t matter who’s talking—you don’t listen to me, you don’t listen to people who actually like you, you don’t listen to orders, you don’t listen to reason—”

“You think I’m a good pilot?” He suddenly asks, and you have to take a second. This cockpit isn’t designed for anything other than sitting, much less turning all the way around, but you’re sure you can find some way to throttle him from here. He chuckles as you let out the loudest sigh you’ve ever heard yourself make—which, is an incredible feat you think both of you should be congratulated for—before Dameron eventually carries on. “You could tell me that,” he admits with a shrug, a hidden smile on his face that he’s trying to bite back. “Or you could tell me the truth.”

You shouldn’t encourage him, but you just can’t fucking help it. There’s something inside you, something you can only compare to a morbid sort of curiosity. Maybe you’re just a glutton for punishment, even more so than agreeing to this bet has already confirmed. “And that would be—?”

“That you use anger as a defense mechanism because I touch a nerve you didn’t realize you had,” Dameron replies breezily. “Have since the moment we met. And that you maybe want me to touch something else, but you’re too stubborn and proud and committed to hating me to ever admit it. You can admit it, it’s okay, I can touch whatever you need me to tou—”

“How about the emergency eject button?” You hiss, finally feeling your frustration peak. “Pop the top on this bitch. Put me out of my fucking misery, right now. You’ve got such a big head that the blood flow will probably keep your tiny little brain warm enough as long as you strap yourself down beforehand, I’ll wait. And then you can go back to base, alone , and find another poor girl to emotionally torture since you probably don’t get enough of it from the ones you work your way through but can never remember the most basic things about.”

Remarkably, that actually shuts him up. You’re doubtful the jab really hurts him, but you’re not going to feel bad about it either way. He deserved that. You cross your arms over your chest and don’t even bother looking at him, huffing and flushed with the climax of your ferocity, now left feeling strangely exhausted in its wake. Eventually your breathing evens out and disappears into the silence, until nothing at all can be heard.

It’s like that for a moment—only a moment, before the loud tearing of velcro suddenly shreds through the quiet in the cockpit, completely rattling you. Automatically your eyes shoot over to his reflection, watching large hands pull the orange jumpsuit apart at his chest and then shrug it over broad shoulders. It’s not sexual. It can’t be sexual, because there’s just no fucking room to allow it—it takes him forever to pull the long sleeves down his arms, but the way he drags it out somehow just increases your anticipation for an event you should have absolutely no interest in spectating. He’s wearing a white sleeveless undershirt underneath and the jumpsuit bunches at his waist, making him look all the longer and more defined as he finally collapses back into his seat and reclines in it, the distant constellations bathing his lean torso in dim speckles of starlight.

Your gaze catches on every good part of him—it falls down the muscular lines of his neck and follows the thin gold chain wrapped around it, disappearing into the white of his scooping neckline. His toned body finds a place to rest and stretch out without looking awkward or uncomfortable, coarse hair darkening his jaw and dusting the strong lines of his forearms—but it’s his eyes that make your heart stutter. They’re endlessly deep and dark and knowing , and you can’t seem to look away from him, not even when he opens his mouth to address you.

“You’re always so fucking mean to me,” Dameron remarks, and for just a split second—just a split second, you feel a stab of regret. “I should eat you out tonight.”

Fuck, he hits the nail right on the head on his very first try, and just hearing the words come out of his mouth so effortlessly makes your pussy clench in on itself in need. Nothing about his inflection changed from one sentence to the next, nothing in his voice made it seem like he just flipped the fucking galaxy upside down with just a few words. To an onlooker who doesn’t speak Basic, they’d have absolutely no hint as to why your face is suddenly radiating heat at an industrial capacity, blazing hot enough to warm the whole cockpit. You feel like you’re literally burning up with it. You have to put a palm to your cheek to make sure it’s not actually on fucking fire. “What— what did you just say to me?”

“That’s what you need,” he drawls, unbothered by the sharpness of your tone. “What you’ve needed, ever since I can remember. Should’ve done it a long fucking time ago, now that I’m thinking about it. How long’s it been? Tell me the truth, I know it’s been awhile.”

You feel like you’re being roasted alive like one of those hairy little Kowakian monkey-lizards that you’re pretty sure have sentient designation but are the first to be skewered and cooked over the firepit regardless. Your heart is slamming against your sternum and you scramble to come up with an even slightly clever response after such an ambush.

“This is your plan?” You raise an eyebrow at him, feeling a bead of sweat drop down your temple and onto the corner of your lashes. Oh fuck, be cool, be cool. “You think this is gonna work? Ask me if I want a weak orgasm and rugburn on my thighs?”

“I can shave,” Dameron proposes quietly, lifting his chin and gently scrubbing the side of his cheek. The sound of the thick bristles against his fingers makes you swallow thickly and push back very vivid thoughts of how his face would feel between your legs. How soft and wet his mouth would feel at the center of that thick, coarse beard. “Tonight, I’ll shave it off. Make it nice and smooth for you.”

Something inside you surges up to assure him he absolutely should not shave, and you actually have to bite your tongue to keep it buried at the last second. Stars, that was a close one, what the fuck prompted that?

“I don’t give a shit what you do,” you quickly return, resisting the urge to wipe your brow. “Beard or no beard, makes no difference. Foreplay is overrated, I’m not big on wasting time.”

“Oh, you poor thing,” he immediately laments—so quick , and the worst part is that the sympathy in his voice actually sounds sincere. You’re having trouble looking him in the eyes right now, hearing the genuine pity come through in his tone. “Who… who did this to you?”

“You said you want to figure out what I like, what turns me on,” you return, tucking your hair behind your ear once more and trying not to sound self-conscious. Maker, how long until your shift is over? You need to get out of here, this shit is… way out of your league. “I’m not into it, so try again.”

“Really?” Dameron takes a moment to look at you, furrow his thick eyebrows at you in barely concealed curiosity, before his head tilts sideways and drops to his shoulder. “Normally I’d respect that, but I meant it when I said you need it.”

“We fucking hate each other, Dameron,” you hiss, a reminder to him as much as it is to yourself. Fuck, you really don’t like where this is going. “You don’t know anything about me, you don’t know what the I n—”

“I bet you think we’d fuck hard,” he murmurs, low enough that you have to take an unsteady breath and physically brace yourself for whatever is going to come from that dirty mouth next. “You think that maybe I’d throw you around a little, give it to you from behind, teach you a fucking lesson for always talking back to me. But that’s primitive shit, Gold-Ten, that’s not for you.”

Resist. Resist . You’re part of the fucking Resistance, for Maker’s sake, you’re taught to hold out until death in torture scenarios. Since when did this tin can suddenly become a new POW camp simulation you have to train for?

“I want to take you apart so slow that you can’t talk at all,” Dameron continues quietly, and you close your eyes, biting your bottom lip hard enough to sting. “We don’t even have to fuck—I mean, I want to, but mostly I just want to taste you. Go nice and slow. I want you on your back, so I can look in your eyes and see all that anger just… fade away. I want to watch you try to fight how fucking good I’ll make it. How hot it’s gonna be when you can’t glare at me anymore, when your pretty doll eyes go all soft and sweet and you finally realize that I’ve never hated you at all.”

Maker. This is a trick. It’s not a question, it shouldn’t be presented like one—this is a dirty rotten trick , and you’re not gonna fall for it. You can’t fucking fall for it. It’s a low blow, and you refuse to even acknowledge he said anything at all. He’s lying to get your guard down. He laughed at your flirting. He’s a shit person, he’s using you, this isn’t real.

Real or not, you still gulp loud enough for him to hear it.

“We could go back to our room after our shift is over,” he offers out of the blue, and you have no clue why, but when he pauses and lets it hang in the air for a second, you don’t interrupt him. You stay completely silent while he waits for you, waits for your typical snarky comeback. You have it in your head instantly, you know what you’d normally say. Your room. It’s not ‘our’ room, it’s fucking your room that you’re generous enough to let him bunk in, a privilege he’s this fucking close to losing—but you can’t find it in yourself to say it right now. Your anger is gradually losing the war to your arousal and you’re forced to watch every single small defeat inside you happen from the sidelines.

His reflection blinks at you through the transparisteel, his eyebrows raising just slightly at your prolonged silence, before he suddenly sits up a little and leans forward.

“And I could lock the door,” Dameron continues, lowering his voice, both in volume and register. “The lights in there are way too fucking bright but I don’t want to be in complete darkness, so maybe we can turn them off and open the port shade, let just enough light come through to see. I could turn on the radio, find something quiet, easy to listen to. Something you like, I’ll let you pick it out. And then… Wait, hang on, which bed?”

You clench your jaw and purposefully say nothing even as your pussy squeezes, glaring right through his reflection into the black void of space.

“Mmm. Your bed,” he eventually decides. “I want you comfortable. You shower at night. Your hair will be wet and you’ll be in those baggy pajamas that you think I can’t see your nipples through, the ones that I know you take off under your covers and then put on in the morning when you think I’m still asleep. That’s good, I want you relaxed, so that maybe… maybe you’d let me take your panties off at some point. And you could lay back and open your legs, and I could go down on you for a little while. However long you need.”

Fuck.

No, this isn’t fucking happening. Your lower muscles aren’t twisting in so hard that it actually fucking hurts, your pussy isn’t leaking through two layers of fabric under your jumpsuit, your body isn’t outright revolting against the sheer neglect you’ve put it through. Maker, it’s fucking painful. You have to clench your hands into fists and dig your fingernails into your palms before you can open your mouth.

“You want to know what I need?” You nearly wheeze, a drop of sweat sliding down the back of your neck this time. Your body feels like it’s three sizes too big for this cockpit and your skin feels like it’s three sizes too small for your body. “I need you to shut the fuck u—”

“What you need,” Dameron purrs, sliding up closer behind your seat and sighing soft against the worn material of your headrest, “is a warm mouth to cum in. Don’t be shy, pretty baby, you can tell me.”

You growl out his last name as threateningly as you possibly can before he purrs yours right back in your ear, and fuck, you’ve never heard it sound so sexual before. Last names allow pilots to maintain a respectful distance from each other. Flight designations are Resistance-wide, but last names are just… allies. Not friends, not companions, but a vast network of people brought together by a common enemy. It hurts to lose a first name. But the way yours sounds rolling off of Dameron’s tongue is just too sinful, too intimate when calling you that is meant to sever intimacy by design. He says it slow and makes it dirty, muddies it in the back of his throat as he slides up even closer to you, until his face is right next to yours as you stare at each other through the transparisteel.

“I’m really…” he pauses, before exhaling through his nose and swallowing thick enough to make his Adam’s apple drop and bounce up again, his tongue coming out to wet his plush lips as he blinks slowly at you with a heavy gaze, “… really good at it. Call me Poe and I’ll do it for you all night.”

Shit, your pussy is just a fucking mess right now. It feels like it’s melting sweet and syrupy all over your thighs, throbbing and pounding and clamping up and screaming at you to do something, at least press your hand down there to alleviate some of the aching tensi—

No— stars, no touching yourself is rule number two. You drop your hands to your thighs and squeeze them, trying to reign yourself back in.

“I think you’re—just projecting,” you try, but turns out responding in general is just an all-around bad idea. Nothing about it comes out right. The ‘just’ sounds like your tongue is stuck to the roof of your mouth and your voice cracks on the word ‘projecting,’ but you don’t even have time to be self-conscious or embarrassed at how much you’re giving yourself away—all your energy has to go towards fighting the tightness between your open legs, how you’re so fucking turned on that you’re worried you’ll cum without even touching yourself. Oh Maker, can you imagine? How fucking proud of himself he’d be? You can’t let that happen, but fuck, holding back something so appealing is so much harder than it sounds.

Tap into that anger, tap into that anger—only, you can’t suddenly find it. Where’d it go? Fuck, doesn’t matter, conjure it. Quick, before it’s too late, get mad —don’t let him lure you into a… a false…

Dameron tilts his chin down towards the line of your shoulder and then slowly turns his head towards your neck, breathing you in gently.

A false sense of…

His soft exhale makes goosebumps break out all the way down your arms.

… What?

“Maybe you’re right,” Dameron acknowledges, talking just under your ear. You watch his eyelids dip and the dark beard brushes against your skin and you catch just a hint of that woodsy, spicy scent engulfing you. Like… teakwood, maybe? Stars, you don’t know, you think you’re starting to lose your mind. What the fuck does teakwood even smell like? “Maybe it’s just what I need. You should exploit it, chances are I’ll still cum first.”

That rockets another painful spasm down low. It hurts so fucking bad—fuck, maybe you could… rub yourself up against these weapons controls? Just a little bit? That joystick, right there, just ease yourself up against it just to nurse this wound a little bit…?

No, fucking— bad. That’s bad, you have to stop—

“This isn’t real, this isn’t—y-you just…” You flutter your eyelashes shut, digging your fingernails into your thighs like it’ll help break through the fog of his lulling voice, how fucking amazing he smells right now. “You just want to win th-the b—”

“ Fuck the bet,” he tells you quietly, his head dipped low enough now that his lips brush against your neck, and you shudder so hard at the sensation that your shoulder almost knocks into his chin with it. “You really think I’m doing all this for a fucking bet?”

Don’t trust him, don’t trust him, don’t—

Your deep breath is so stuttery and uneven that it’s technically just a series of shallow inhales all anxiously strung together, too desperate for oxygen to go about it legato. It’s painfully obvious to him by now, it has to be, but you very quickly miss the shaky breathing as soon as he takes away your ability to do it all together.

“Let me taste you,” he whispers, his voice almost breaking with how gentle it is, how it sounds like it flips in and out of his register when he speaks this low. “Right now, let’s make it real, let m—I know you have to be soaking fucking wet, baby, just let me try a little bit of it, please—I’m… holy shit, I’m so hard just thinking about it.”

“You c-can’t,” you stammer, reaching up to pinch the bridge of your nose in frustration. At him, at the situation, at the painful throb of emptiness between your legs. “Fuck, it’s not allowed, it’s against the rules—”

“It won’t be,” he assures you, and you hiccup when you suddenly feel his hand brush against your side, strong fingers branching out to curve against your ribcage. “You don’t have to do anything, you can stay just like this. Just a few seconds and then I’ll stop, I promise.”

Oh, Maker, it’s on the very top of your tongue, so unbelievably close to telling him something—but you don’t know what it should be. You’re right at the tipping point, on a tightrope right between what you want and what you should want. And, knowing you’re this close to giving in, Dameron slowly eases his hand down your side and starts to trail it inwards, and just the lightest brush of his warm tongue against your neck shatters any composure you have left.

You whimper and instinctively try to close your legs, but you fucking can’t— your knees are forced wide apart by controls and your whole body freezes when his hand slides down and folds gently along the curve of your pussy through the thick fabric of your jumpsuit.

The feeling of being held like this by him is just too good , cradled so perfectly in his palm as he opens his mouth and flutters his tongue out to taste your skin again, giving you a little more of it this time and letting you feel the roughness of his beard with the way his lips move. Your breath catches, then he hooks his fingertips up just the slightest bit and pulls back, and you suddenly have to smack your whole hand over your face in a terrible attempt to stifle your loud gasp.

“Oh, Maker, I c-can’t,” you stammer against your fingers, not being able to trust him or your own body. You continue to protest even after he moves back up, resting his palm low on your abdomen, letting the heat bleed through the fabric and transfer directly to your floor muscles as he lifts his head up from your shoulder. “I can’t, we can’t, I…”

You can’t see him, but you know he’s looking at you. He’s staring right at you through the reflection, studying the way you’re hiding your face from him, how you’re still melting, still losing your composure just from the warm palm pressed tight your tummy.

His touch leaves you for a second. But then the deafening sound of velcro ripping at the crotch of your jumpsuit has you dragging your hand down your mouth and your eyelids dipping.

“Dameron,” you breathe into your fingers, just as his carefully slip into the small opening and begin to work at the button to your pants. “Dameron, this isn’t—you don’t want—”

“You don’t get to tell me what I don’t want,” he grunts at you, and you try not to bite yourself at the sound of him unzipping things and yanking fabric to the side. “What I really fucking want is the real thing, but I guess this’ll have to do for now.”

“I—” Your mind whirs desperately, trying to process when his fingers wedge under your panties and down. But he doesn’t give you a single fucking second. As soon as the tip of his middle finger reaches your slit, he’s dropping it and sliding it through your slick, hot, unbearably neglected cunt.

“Fuck,” he spits, and you feel like you might be about to break your own fucking jaw with how hard you’re clutching it, trying so desperately not to make a noise. The pad of his finger is rough and calloused as it drags against your clit in slow, tight circles, and you clamp your eyes shut and try to breathe normally, but it’s no use. Fuck , it’s been so long . You’ve been aching for it for a full fucking month and a half now and you know that even if he couldn’t feel it, he can hear how drenched you are right now. It’s making an obscene sound as he steadily masturbates you with one heavenly finger, giving your body what it’s desperately craved for so many weeks. “Fuck, baby’s pussy got fucking wet hearing me talk about how good I’d lick it, huh?”

That sends a bright flare launching through you and you gasp raggedly, both hands whipping out to snatch at his forearm where it disappears between your legs. “No, shit, wait, stopstopstopstop stop , I—”

His hand slips out immediately and yet you continue to tremble like his finger is still right there, like your clit is just imagining it so vividly that it’s successfully convincing itself of the illusion. The aching bit of flesh is burning, that good burn, the one that’s searing and bright that makes your muscles continue to chase the sensation long after the stimulation is gone. Fuck, he almost made you cum. He barely touched you for a few seconds and yet your fingers have to tighten into claws to slow your body down the fuck down, flexing against your thighs and trying your best to halt the impending climax.

By the time you’re able to wrangle yourself back from the edge and look at his reflection, his middle finger is already in his mouth and he’s blinking slowly at you, his pupils blown wide. You’re breathing hard at him, staring open-mouthed at the way his lips are closed below his second knuckle, how he takes forever dragging it back out again. You have to close your eyes. You have to clamp them shut and keep them that way, knowing you won’t be able to look at him through whatever he’s going to say next.

Except, oddly, he doesn’t say much.

“Shit,” he breathes, dropping his mouth to your neck once more. “Shhhit. I…”

Your eyes snap open in sudden, blind panic when he doesn’t continue, horrified at the possibility that he doesn’t like it. Dameron always has something to say, he doesn’t go speechless. “Oh—Maker, is it not—?”

“Mmmfuck, just—” he grits, panting hot air against your skin, “—fuck. Give me a second.”

You can only see the crown of his head with the way he’s angled, but you can see his shoulders a little further back. They start… moving slightly. Just the littlest bit, a smooth motion, like his whole body is slowly easing back and forth—

The nav controls are between his legs, you immediately realize. He’s grinding up against them with how close he is to you and your seat.

And suddenly, it’s like there’s a light at the end of the tunnel. A ray of sunshine that breaks through the raging storm. Dameron might cum in his pants like this. Which means you’ll win, and arguably more importantly, you’ll finally be able to cum. You don’t even take a moment to consider the potential consequences—how you’re going to have to withstand the stimulation until he succumbs to it, how you’ll have to outlast—but you’re not thinking straight. You’re not really thinking at all.

“You can…” you suddenly hear yourself whisper, and your heart pounds in your throat when he instantly stops moving. “One… one more. If you want. You can put your finger inside this time, it’s where I’m the… w-wettest.”

“Fuck,” Dameron croaks into the crook of your neck, his voice scraping low and rough and sending a tremor through you. “Fuck, okay, yeah—”

His hand slides across your hip and down, but you catch him just in time.

“But don’t touch my clit.” You try to sound as firm as possible through the breathlessness, still trying to put your foot down even when you’re giving in, and Dameron’s teeth come out as he stifles a soft groan into your neck in response.

“Yes, baby,” he murmurs obediently as his hand sinks down once more, and so diligently, he avoids it altogether. His fingers slide under your panties and fall straight down to your entrance, down to where you know you’re the hottest, where your pussy is flexing and pushing wetness out with a steady, wicked throb. The pad of his middle finger presses gently against the tight muscles there, rubs just the slightest bit to feel that resistance, and then the length of it eases inside you so slowly that your knees rattle against bulky metal.

“Fucking Maker , ” he hisses as he slides it in, his body making a sudden jerk against the controls.

Your eyes roll back at the feeling of something inside you after so long, after such a torturous buildup, and you grasp at his forearm again when it curls naturally up against searing pleasure. Oh, it’s so good, it’s so good, your hands shake while he very carefully moves it in and out, the raw sparks of heat threatening to incinerate you as your muscles cling to every ridge of his finger. He gets it sopping wet, bathes it so completely in your slick that you’re almost certain it’ll come out pruny and drenched.

“Shit, okay,” you pant, squeezing desperately around his finger, “o-okay, fuck, that’s enough.”

His hand pulls out… slower this time. He slips his finger out of you quick enough, but he drags the tip of it through your folds as he retreats, just barely grazing your clit and making you jolt in your seat. Shit, you don’t know if it felt intentional enough to fault him for it—mostly it just excites you, thrills you to have him edge you like this without really needing to put any effort at all into it.

Dameron lifts his head to sink his finger deep into his mouth once more, and you tremble as you watch him enjoy it, staring at the way his shoulders seem to relax as soon as your taste is on his tongue, how his face goes soft with it and he almost slumps.

Relief. Genuine, not embellished. He still doesn’t say anything after he slowly slides it out and blinks at you, no sugar sweet drawl telling you how amazing you taste, no candied words to make you give in and let him have another go. You’re both breathing hard at each other, staring, waiting to see who will break first.

Stars, you… fucking like this. You want him to keep going, but you can’t offer it again. It’s just too exposing, too revealing to let him you’re actually really fucking enjoying this, you can’t—

“Do you w—?” Your voice automatically comes out through the silence without your permission, sounding just absolutely fucking wrecked by this point, but his palm is already slithering back down as soon as you speak, and you make the softest little submissive noise in your throat at him taking immediate initiative like that. He’s not as careful about it this time—his hand finds its target with less frill, his finger slides in quicker, sinking deep into your heat with little hesitation, lighting you on fire from the inside out, and you bite the meat of your thumb to stay quiet.

“Fuck, this is so hot,” he suddenly breathes next to your ear while your legs spasm and you gasp brokenly. “This is so—fuck, pretty baby letting me do this to her, I can’t fucking believe—”

Dameron eases a second finger inside you this time, letting you feel that delicious stretch from this angle, unable to lift your legs or shuffle around to help and subsequently resigned to simply experience it the way he gives it to you. Your teeth have probably permanently indented your bottom lip from how hard you’re clamped down, a testament to how much you’re trying to hold back the loud moan you miraculously haven’t released yet. Somehow it makes it sexier, not letting him hear you, not having your own noises to drown out the spark of urgency in his voice beginning to peek through.

Shit, it’s too much. You can only let him touch you a few seconds at a time before you feel that familiar tug towards mind-numbing bliss, and the more he does it, the more appealing that feeling then becomes. It’s teasing you, floating right in front of you and calling into question what could possibly be so bad about just reaching out to meet it? You could. You could cum right now. What’s two weeks of pay? You could cum all night long if you want, that is a thing you can do—

Quickly snapping out of your hypnotic downfall, your trembling hands snatch at his forearm once more, and Dameron, the fucker, drags his fingers slowly over your clit on the way out— so not accidental, not even close to it this time, but the sensation makes your hips stutter upwards and chase it nonetheless.

“Fuck you,” you groan at his audacity, your chest arching as you drop your head back, “I said don’t touch my—” but two wet fingers slipping past your lips and onto your tongue muffle the rest of your sentence. Your heart does half a somersault before slamming down early, the taste of your pussy filling your mouth as you automatically start sucking on them.

“None of that,” Dameron tells you softly, massaging his fingers along your tongue before pressing a sweet kiss under your ear. “Be nice. I’m being nice.”

You should bite him. Instead, you just close your eyes and mphh weakly around his fingers, your body sagging as you give into it and let him explore your mouth with them, your lower muscles cramping up in painful desperation even when he’s not anywhere near that part of your body right now. Your tongue even comes up to lick between them, swirl around them so soft compared to how hard you’re puffing through your nose.

Dameron slowly inches his fingers out, letting the tips of them rest against your bottom lip for just a brief moment, before his hand is moving again. Not down, but back and around, so he can open his mouth and taste you another way this time.

Shit, you feel like you’re dying. You need air. Your hands clench into fists and you use the back of one to wipe the sweat from the bridge of your nose while he takes his time sampling you like this. If anything, he looks just as blissed out as before, continuing to rub his crotch up against the solid metal between his legs and teasing you with it as much as he’s teasing himself.

“Maker, let me do this for real tonight, okay,” Dameron pants after dropping his fingers from his mouth, sounding like he’s fighting for his breath while you can’t find yours at all. Your eyes flick down to watch the way his hand disappears behind the chair to grab the controls and push his cock up against them even harder, how he drops his forehead to your neck like he just can’t fucking handle it anymore. “Fuck, I’ll shave, I’ll do anything you want, just let me—”

“Cum,” you gasp out before you can stop yourself, and there’s a moment after it where his hips suddenly stutter against the controls, and you both freeze.

Shit. Shitshitshit, did that actually work?

No, you very quickly realize, his body isn’t spasming like it would if he finally emptied his load after a month and a half. He’s just… holding there, his head buried in your neck, completely still.

You didn’t mean it like that. Well… fuck, you did, but you didn’t realize you’d be that reckless about it, that upfront about reissuing the challenge.

Dameron pulls back to look at you from the side this time, but it’s too cramped—he keeps his head turned facing you even as his eyes flick up to the transparisteel to take in the finer details of your features, the thin sheen of sweat on your forehead, and the slightly alarmed way you’re blinking back at him, worried you just shot your blaster at him in the midst of a mutual ceasefire and you fucking missed.

You see the understanding in his eyes instantly fall into place, and it’s not fucking good. Ohhhhhh no, it’s not good. Your chest starts rising and falling rapidly, suddenly registering the position you just put yourself in. Fuck, you didn’t think—you saw your opening, so clearly, you didn’t have time to think about the consequences.

“D-Dameron…” you try your best to placate.

“Don’t touch your clit?” He asks quietly, the raspiness of his voice ripping a hole through you while his hand suddenly shoves its way back down your body once more.

“Dameron,” you whimper, your heart stuttering in panic as you grasp weakly at his arm reaching between your spread thighs, “Dameron, this is—this is against the r-rules—”

“You keep saying that,” he comments, his fingers easily finding the opening in your jumpsuit no matter how hard you flex your thighs against bulky mechanics to try and close them. “How clearly do you remember the rules? What were the rules again?

You open your mouth to respond but his hand sliding under your panties and down just obliterates any chance you were going to attempt. No words, nothing comes out but a shaky whine as his finger sinks into your soaking heat, going right for the kill.

“Come on, baby, the rules,” Dameron reminds you when you never give him an answer. “Tell me. No fucking, no jerking off, and…?”

You suddenly struggle forwards in a last-ditch attempt at preventing the inevitable, hoping you can scoot up enough in your seat to escape his reach from behind. But fuck, your thighs have been shoved wide open for nearly eight hours—none of the muscles are working the way they should be anymore. There’s just enough room in front of you to get there and you probably would’ve been able to do it at the beginning of the shift, even with his hand between your legs like this, but you’re sluggish and your thighs pull sharp and urgent with the movement. The frantic maneuver enough to veer his fingers off course just slightly, moving one of your lips to the side at an angle, and you keep pushing against the pain no matter how useless it is.

“—No cumming,” he finishes for you, and his other hand is slithering up under your arm and groping one of your breasts through the jumpsuit before shoving you back tight up against your seat once more, totally helpless against it. “Probably have another fifteen minutes or so before our shift ends. Better hold it in, pretty baby, because this one is all you.”

“This—this isn’t fair, this is—” The second the slippery pad of his finger presses hard against your clit, you’re biting your lip to cut off a breathless whimper that slips out. “This is… is sab— sabotage— ”

“Oh, I know,” he moans next to your ear, mocking your high plea of distress with a fake, overly sympathetic whine. “Feels so fucking good though, doesn’t it?”

Fuck, it does. The build feels like an orgasm in itself, just working your way to it. You’re already so unbelievably close after just a few seconds of direct stimulation, an obvious consequence of originally agreeing to such a hardcore edging workout. You’re pouring sweat, so swollen and tight between your legs as you do everything you can to revolt against your body’s needs.

“Oh fuck, stop touching my clit—” you gasp raggedly, heart thundering in panic while your lower muscles start to immediately seize up, “oh—fuckfuckfuck— Poe, take your finger off m—”

Instead of doing it, his hand just slows down until the tip of his finger comes to a halt, maybe less than an inch over top of it. You still can’t catch your breath though, not when you feel yourself throbbing against absolutely nothing, the calloused pad holding perfectly still over the bundle of nerves. The swollen bud still arcs and flares at a steady frequency, building and building, and you choke out a wordless garble, absolutely fucking furious that this is what’s gonna make you cum.

“Don’t make me cum,” you switch up your sentence but not the terrified plead in your voice, the way it’s pitching up and out of control in the dead quiet of space. He doesn’t even acknowledge it. “Don’t make me cum, don—”

“Say it again,” he prompts instead, and lightning arcs up your spine.

“Poe,” you wheeze, the words coming from you without thought, your fingernails digging into his forearm even as your hips jerk up into his touch, “fuck, don’t make me cum, Poe—please don’t make me c—”

“But it’ll be so good,” he counters lowly, and your clit throbs in desperation at the richness of his voice when he speaks like this, saying things from deep in his chest. “It’ll be so fucking good when it happens. Stars, you’ll feel so much better, won’t you? Cum right now and I’ll give you as many as I can until we have to go home.”

“N-No,” you whine, feeling his teeth scrape at the crook of your neck. “No, I can’t—”

“Cum for me,” Dameron raises his voice, sharpening it into a direct order. “Right now. Come on— fucking make yourself lose.”

“But I—I—” you sob, starting to feel your body curl inwards, nearly about to succumb to the burning, the tightening, right on its last breath, “I-I don’t want to cum—”

“And I don’t fucking care,“ he hisses while your hands start flexing unintentionally, grasping helplessly at his immovable forearm where it disappears between your legs, the dark hair sliding under your fingertips as you claw desperately at it. “You’ll fucking cum when I tell you to cum and you’ll like it, you disrespectful, cock-deprived, bratty little—”

And then everything goes dark.

No, literally. The stars disappear.

The cockpit is suddenly shrouded in pitch blackness, and you’re almost certain it’s because you pass out, except then Dameron is all but ripping his hand out of your jumpsuit and cursing repeatedly in alarm. You crumple in on yourself, eyes clamped shut and not hearing anything, right at the peak of your ecstasy and ready to soar into the light completely unassisted, your muscles doing all the work on their own—

“—shit, they’re way too close—” you hear his voice shout, “—we have to turn the engines on—Gold-Ten, baby, turn the fucking eng—”

You’re almost there, you’re almost there, you’re gonna cum, you’re gonna fucking—

Your first name, roared out in startling, blinding panic.

You don’t often hear it. Just during roll calls mostly, but only if you’re flying with a different squadron and need a new temporary flight designation for the day. First names hurt. You can’t remember a time you’ve ever willingly told anybody yours.

Your head jerks up to look at his reflection but something else beyond the transparisteel takes immediate precedence. Your brain takes about two seconds to catch up before thundering terror slams through you and halts your previously inevitable orgasm in its fucking tracks. A runaway train about to launch off its tracks suddenly slamming directly into a megaton force-field of cold, hard fight or flight instincts.

A staggering fleet of First Order ships silently plunging out of hyperspace on all sides—your powered-down x-wing stationed right in the middle of the drop location.

***

Stay tuned for part two coming soon!!

#poe x reader #poe dameron #poe dameron x reader #SMUTTTT #reader insert #star wars #fanfic #the formatting on this one is downright horrendous but im so mad that i cant even fix it right now so thatll have to come later im sorry

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skellebonez · 3 years

Text

Tumblr Messed Up Fill #1

So Tumblr did a BIG OLD OOPS and published a bunch of my unfinished drafts that I left in my queue at 1 PM... when I set it to 1 AM and intended to finish a couple and then change the time again.

LUCKILY I DIDN’T HAVE THE ENTIRE FILLS IN THE QUEUE AND JUST BITS I ADDED IN TO HOLD SPACE. So... I guess this is how we’re doing this! @winterpower98 here’s some Mentor Swap AU Shadowpeach!

How did you get that scar?/That is not a good hiding spot.

It had been scheduled far in advance and Wukong should have remembered that this was going to happen. The Weather Station needed to let it rain sometimes! It was good for the environment! Good for nature! But Wukong was Wukong and when he trained with Xiaotian for as long as he did he had a tendency to forget the unimportant things like “scheduled downpours” and “when training is actually supposed to end”.

So by the time he managed to crash land a foot away from Mei’s front door after pogo sticking his way off of Mount Huaguo he looked like he’d been dropped into the ocean.

“Cold-cold, cold and wet!” He yelped, shoving the staff back into his ear and trying to hold his jacket over his head as best he could, which did just as much good as it did during the ride. Which was “barely anything”. “Ah shit, it’s cold why can’t they make the rain not COLD!?”

He continued into the building, shuddering as he felt rain water seeping through every bit of fabric he wore, even his shoes the traitors. He immediately started ripping off his shirt, at the very least wanting to get some of the drenched clothing off him, and he froze when he heard a yelp from the other side of what should have been a very empty entry way given Mei was supposed to be out of the house.

A very familiar yelp.

“Why aren’t you are your own house!?” The voice yelled, and as Wukong pulled his shirt over his head he found the voice’s own staring at him with wide eyes alight with a mix of confusion and horror.

“UH, I think I should ask you that, Macaque!” He accused, turning sideways and walking backwards into the building with a raised eyebrow. “Why are you in Mei’s house? Are you hiding in Mei's house!? That is not a good hiding spot!"

“Wouldn’t you like to know, Monkey Boy?” Macaque said snarkily with a smirk.

“Monkie KID, and yeah, that’s why I asked,” Wukong snarked right back, holding his shirt and jacket out in front of him with a frown. “Also, you’re a monkey so...”

“Oh shut up.”

"And you look like you nearly drowned," Wukong chuckled, ringing his shirt out and pointedly not mentioning the blush he saw forming on the other's face. Yet. "It's raining cats and dogs and I’m pretty bad to, but you shouldn't be that bad."

"... don't laugh," Macaque grumbled, doing much the same to his scarf. "I was trying to get here when the rain was getting really bad and I... fell. Off the docks."

Wukong immediately burst into cackles.

“I told you not to laugh you asshole!” Macaque snapped, baring his teeth and trying to puff up his fur in annoyance but failing miserably with the sheer amount of water weighing him down. If anything it probably just made him look... adorably sad. Like a puppy. But a human sized monkey.

“I-I’m sorry!” Wukong held his sides, trying his very best to stop laughing. He also failed miserably, if not even more so than Macaque. “It’s just imagining you, YOU, falling off the docks? Just! You’re practically an acrobat! You’re usually way cooler than that!”

As Wukong continued to fail Macaque’s face softened as he stopped barring his teeth in warning and stared at the other young man.

“... you think I’m cool?” He asked softly, attempting to smooth down his fur and brush the water out of it.

“Kinda?” Wukong said with a half snicker, finally having himself under control. “Cool enough I guess.”

Macaque hummed, giving up on his attempts to dry off with a sigh. It was pointless to try to dry off with his fur like this, not without some kind of towel or brush. And he would be damned if he let Wukong let himself shake dry! That was not going to happen.

So instead he turned to the other, watching as he laid out his tip layers on his arm and turned around.

And something caught his eye.

Multiple somethings.

“How did you get that scar?”

Wukong tensed, not enough for him to stop moving but more than enough for Macaque to notice that he was walking away much slower than he needed to.

"Depends on which one you mean," he answered eventually. He reached up to pull on his hair, frowning as it dripped more water on him. "Hold that thought until I come back."

And so he did. Macaque watched the other leave and stood in the open room, awkward and dripping sea and rain water all over Mei's floor.

He debated leaving. Just walking out the door and avoiding the awkward conversation that was sure to be leveled in his direction when the human returned, but before he could even make the decision to decide on an option something brought and green was lobbed at his head and wrapped around his face.

“WHAT IN THE-”

“Towel off before Mei gets angry we both tracked in water,” Wukong said, mischievous chuckle resounding through the air before Macaque managed to unwrap the towel from his face. “I’ve got something else that’ll help out after.”

Macaque was going to ask what that something was before the words died in his throat, the sight before him making him pause in confusion and barely held back amusement.

“You have Monkey King themed PJs?” He asked, toweling off his head first. “At Mei’s?”

“Sometimes I stay over.” Was all Wukong said, shrugging as if it was nothing. “Considering you’re here and I don’t see signs of a break in I assume those plum PJs in the same closet are yours.”

“I DON’T HAVE PAJAMAS HERE I DON’T STAY THAT OFTEN!” Macaque snapped, and his face flushed a deep red in embarrassment before he saw Wukong’s victory smirk. “... you made that up to make me slip that I’ve been here before.”

“And you took it hook, line, and sinker,” Wukong said playfully, grabbing the monkey demon’s arm and using a second towel he had to dry it off. “I wasn’t kidding about the PJs though.”

“O-oh...” was all Macaque could reply with as the information slowly sunk in before he ripped his arm away. “I can do that myself!”

“Then do it and come inside!”

Macaque was... mostly dry after a couple minutes, enough for Wukong to drag him into the bathroom and instruct him to change and use the blow dryer he has shoved into his hands while he mopped the floor. And as much as Macaque disliked the noise... he couldn’t argue that the warm air of the device was a welcome change from the icy seawater against him.

He may have looked like an extra puffed up fur ball when he was done and refused to come out until he at least had the PJs (short sleeved and indeed covered in plums) on to hide the worst of it.

Didn’t stop Wukong from devolving into cackles at his expense once again.

“Hold on, let me do something,” Wukong offered, and guided him to sit down on the couch sideways, situating behind him with the other pulled against his chest and a comb in hand. “At least I can help with your hair... if it counts as hair.”

“... I don’t know if it does,” Macaque replied, finding himself at a loss for what to do and say in this situation.

They were enemies, right?

Shouldn’t Wukong... be chasing him out of the building?

Now sitting him down to- OH NO!

“ACTUALLY WA-”

Macaque froze as Wukong’s fingers brushed against his scalp and the teeth of the comb brushed through his hair, far more gentle than Macaque could remember anyone touching his hair before, and he went limp in Wukong’s arms like putty.

“Knew that’d get ya,” he felt Wukong say as much as he heard him say it, and the hands and comb continued through his hair and fur and he couldn’t even muster up any coherent words to snark back at him. Just a frustrated grumble. “Xiaotian does this to me a lot. And to his monkeys. So I figured this would be... ya know, nice for you.”

They stayed like that for a good while, Wukong brushing his fingers and the comb through puffed up fur and pulling out tangles Macaque didn’t even know he had on the back of his neck. It felt... strange. To trust someone that you spent so much of your time fighting against, flirting with awkwardly in the midst of battle, never thinking that the two of you would just sit and do anything calmly together.

But here they were. On Mei’s couch. Macaque feeling a purr rumble up in his chest as Wukong groomed through his hair and fur in a gesture he clearly admitted he knew the implications of.

“They’re from before,” Wukong said after a while, after he rested his head on Macaque’s shoulder and started working through the fur on his arms. “Before Red took me in... back before I had the staff to fight with.”

And as much as Macaque wanted to ask, and if he really tried he knew he probably could, he chose not to push it when he heard the way Wukong’s tone changed. Something equally nostalgic and melancholy.

“I think they make you look cool too,” was what he said instead.

“... We’re both pretty cool.”

#monkie kid #lego monkie kid #mentor swap au #ship fic #prompt fill #monkey king #sun wukong #six eared macaque #shadowpeach #I LOVE THIS AU and i wanna write more shadowpeach for it

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sooibian · 3 years

Text

Between a Rock and a Hard Place

Pairing: Kyungsoo x fem!Reader ft. big brother Junmyeon, arch enemy Sehun

Genre/Themes: Established Relationship AU, Fluff, Crack, Loosely inspired by the anime Horimiya

Warnings: Sexual themes, themes of sadism and masochism (nothing explicit), slight swearing.

Description: It’s Sehun’s wedding party. Kyungsoo knew these couple of hours with you were going to be anything but pleasant, however, he didn’t expect things to spiral so quickly.

A/N: Thank you @his-mochi-cheeks for encouraging me to upload this. Shy tagging my closeted dandanies @vampwrrr and @changshapatrol since this one sparked joy.

Word count: 2.7k

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

To Kyungsoo, the best thing about weddings was the feast but since you sat sulkily sipping on green juice - whatever the fuck that monstrosity was made of - he couldn't muster the courage to gorge on bulgogi and galbi in front of you. Especially not since it was a "your side of the family" wedding and your big brother Junmyeon wouldn't quit looking at him as if he were a ticking time bomb.

He’d gone out with you for five years before finally asking you to marry him four years ago. As much as he tried, Kyungsoo failed to make peace with the fact that Junmyeon still hadn't warmed up to him. Kyungsoo firmly believed in cause and effect and he just couldn’t tell when and how he’d faltered to warrant such iciness from Junmyeon. Events like these made his thoughts tread deeper into the “where did I go wrong?” labyrinth with no escape in sight.

Kyungsoo’s stomach growled, the proximity to the buffet area wasn’t helping. He stupidly slapped a hand on it as if to stop the sound from reaching you but despite the loud music and raucous conversations, you noticed. So you offered him a sip of the disgusting green gloop which he politely declined.

Shrugging, you sing-songed mindlessly, "Oof the barbecue stall sure looks inviting."

He suspiciously studied the ever so slight movements in your features, every microexpression and chose the safest response of taking your hand in his, lacing your fingers together, and planting a soft kiss between your knuckles - conscious of the fact that he’d have to tolerate the hunger pangs for just a bit longer. He was dead sure you’d ask him to stop at a McDonald's on your two hour drive back home. None of these green gloop diets have lasted over twelve hours.

Resting his chin in his hand, Kyungsoo peered over his glasses and looked around the luxuriously and aesthetically decorated lawn. In front of the gazebo Oh Sehun and his bride slow-danced to a song he couldn’t recognise. Sehun's hand mischievously slipped down his bride's waist and she teasingly punched his chest in response. She giggled and swayed in his arms as Sehun looked into her eyes with all the love glimmering in his own. Thinking back to his own wedding day, Kyungsoo smiled to himself and planted yet another kiss on your hand. Features contorted by the nasty taste of the juice, to him you still looked just as radiant as you did on your wedding day. In the moment he wanted nothing more than to join the couples on the dance floor, wrap his arms around your waist, and sway to the rhythm of the romantic, soft beats.

So he turned to you and asked enthusiastically, “Lets dance?”

“Kyungsoo - ,” pinching the bridge of your nose, you only reacted with a scowl.

Your damp response instantly soured his expression. “Come on! Don’t be such a sourpuss!” He exclaimed, tugging at your arm.

Kyungsoo observed keenly as your gaze reluctantly turned to a euphoric Sehun. Through gritted teeth, you justified, “It’s my arch-nemesis’ wedding. What do you expect?”

Junmyeon was the Academic Director of Museum Studies at Seoul National University and Sehun was his favourite student, almost like a younger brother to him and as his biological sister, you somehow felt threatened by their relationship. Over the years, your insecurity had manifested in the way of an inexplicable resentment towards Sehun.

“Why did we even come, then?” Kyungsoo reasoned.

“To avoid having to listen to Junmyeon whinging and whining for an eternity,” you dead-panned.

“You mean the way I’ve been tolerating your whining ever since we received the wedding invite?” Kyungsoo grumbled.

Wagging your finger at him, you said, “That’s a low blow, Kyungsoo.”

Crossing his arms over his chest, Kyungsoo pursed his lips and continued arguing with you, “Who even brings their own meal to a goddamn wedding?”

You rolled your eyes before listlessly scrolling through your phone. Kyungsoo understood exactly what you were upto. While you didn’t want anybody to fault you for skipping the wedding, you needed to make it known to everyone present that you were here merely out of courtesy.

On the other hand, Kyungsoo was quite fond of Sehun. The guy was fun and even-tempered and Kyungsoo truly admired people who were uncomplicated, people with whom he could freely speak his mind. It’s why he fell in love with you in the first place and stayed in love...despite all of your pettiness and quirks. Quirks that made Kyungsoo shake in his boots. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, pushed those thoughts out of his head and heaved a sigh of relief upon realizing that your eccentricity wouldn’t rear its ugly head at a family celebration.

He was jolted out of his reverie by Junmyeon who slammed a plate of dakgalbi in front of him. Kyungsoo immediately shoved his phone into an inside pocket of his blazer, inwardly reprimanding himself for behaving all the more suspiciously in front of your elder brother.

Squinting sceptically, Junmyeon remarked, “I didn’t see you at the buffet -”

“Ah - we’ve been meaning to -” Kyungsoo tried explaining the situation without having to put you in a spot. He thought, after an uncomfortably long pause, Junmyeon would drop the conversation, but he didn't. Kyungsoo gingerly ran his fingers over his brows to check if Junmyeon's intense glare had burned holes into his head. You on the other hand had your gaze fixed on your phone and didn’t break character even for a second - not even to help your husband out of an awkward conversation. So Kyungsoo picked up a pair of chopsticks to help himself to a piece of dakgalbi but Junmyeon slapped his hand away and snarled, “Ladies first.”

"O-of course," Kyungsoo stuttered, pushing the plate towards you.

"I don't wanna eat," you answered the two men, eyes now on a blank screen. Left with no choice, Kyungsoo slowly and sadly put his chopsticks down, his stomach making its annoyance known, while Junmyeon started to nag you for acting 'uppity as usual'.

Your show of indifference when Junmyeon animatedly whisper-scolded you, had started to make Kyungsoo anxious. The moment he tried to excuse himself to the bathroom, he felt your bare foot on his shoe and he froze into a still frame.

Kyungsoo shook his head at you and mouthed, 'Not now!' but you merely shot him a sweet smile in response.

"Are you even listening to me?" Junmyeon lambasted you.

"No and I haven't been listening for quite sometime now." Your reply sent a chill down Kyungsoo's spine. He was feeling a lot of things...all at once and with your toes boldly riding up his shin, he thought he'd burst at the seams. He made a mental note to have certain ground rules in place for situations like these - you weren’t much of a listener but this time he was sure to make himself heard.

"You won't be eating either?" Junmyeon asked Kyungsoo, shooting him yet another indignant glare. Kyungsoo smoothly moved his chair out of your reach but just as he extended his hand towards the plate, Junmyeon huffed angrily and walked away with it and Kyungsoo felt his heart sink to his stomach.

Tormenting Kyungsoo with a game of footsie for a while, you excused yourself to the ladies room. Ten minutes later, his phone chimed with a text from you.

'Can you come and get me? I think I'm lost.'

'No.' He replied. He was determined to not walk into your trap.

Kyungsoo clearly remembers the first time he was introduced to that side of your personality. Freshman year - it had been a few months since he'd asked you out. One evening, when things had gotten hot and heavy between the two of you, he had heard you say, 'Slap me, Soo.'

At first he thought he'd heard wrong so he ignored you but you said it again causing him to immediately pull away. Aghast, he asked, 'What did you say?'

'Slap me,' you blinked at him.

He intently studied your face - the most beautiful and the least punchable face he'd ever laid his eyes on. He wanted to do many things to you and all of them essentially involved making you feel loved and cherished and what you were asking of him was the exact opposite of how he felt about you.

Eyes wide and lips pursed, you stood for a reaction but he would give you none.

'Don't you love me?' You asked softly, batting your eyelashes at him. Little did you know, in that moment, he was too numb and too naked to make sense of the situation.

At first he faulted his own personality. Kyungsoo was known to have picked a few fights here and there, had multiple piercings, and visible tattoos. Over the years, he got rid of it all and started dressing preppy but nothing changed. You still continued to ask of him something he was unwilling to give. So after a few ups and downs in your relationship, Kyungsoo finally reconciled with the fact that you were something of a sadist masochist only when it came to him.

His phone buzzed with your reply: 'The gardens at this hotel are ginormous. There's no staff here, I don't know how to find stupid lanky boy's stupid wedding party. I'm waiting by the restroom area please come and get me? ❤️'

Kyungsoo knew that you were directionally challenged. He'd test you at random and you could never tell left from right. Also, the lawn did sprawl over a considerable area but something just didn't feel right. Chewing on a hangnail, Kyungsoo sat thinking of a fitting reply only to receive another text from you.

A tempting one.

'If you come and get me now, we'll get out of here directly. No need to go back to the party.'

'What about your brother?' Asked Kyungsoo.

His phone blinked with a 'Pfft 🤪'

Patiently, he reiterated, 'I asked, what about your brother?'

'I promise I'll deal…'

'....?'

'Nicely 😘'

'Ok ❤️'

Kyungsoo gaped at you while you twirled his tie between your fingers and pleaded with him in a sultry voice, "Just once? Please?"

He was well aware that you knew for a fact he couldn't refuse you. Nevertheless, this time he firmly held his ground, "Are you crazy? Your entire family, your brother is just a couple metre's distance from here!"

"Kyungsoo please?" You caged him between a grainy concrete wall and your torso. The only respite to Kyungsoo in that situation was the fact that the area was poorly lit and there was not a soul in sight.

He cupped your face in his hands, planted a chaste kiss on your forehead and crouched down to whisper against your lips, "I'm not - I'm not sla- I'm not doing any of that here. Let's go home." After a lot of struggle, he finally managed to free himself from your Senior Superintendent General of Police grasp with a smirk on his face that said all your police training got nothing on him.

"Let's go," he held your hand and took a long stride towards the exit but you stayed firmly rooted to your place.

"Drag me out of here, then," you commanded.

You didn't budge and Kyungsoo wouldn't have caved under any other circumstance but…. he was hungry. Really hungry - making his stiff spine melt like candle wax. So he steeled himself, looked into your eyes, dropped his tone to a gruff, husky tenor, grabbed your wrist a little too tightly and threatened you, "Move your ass, __. Don't make me tell you again."

Exasperated, he rolled his eyes at the way yours twinkled at his crass behaviour.

"Gimme more," you said breathily.

The only way to get out of here was to stay in character so Kyungsoo did exactly that. He roughly pushed you against a wall (as gently as he could if it makes sense) and growled, "What makes you think you can act all buddy buddy with me, you ditz!" but before he could go any further he heard a man's voice yell, "How dare you!?"

Startled like a deer caught in headlights - in this case the flashlight of Junmyeon's latest iPhone - Kyungsoo turned around to find the brawny man leaping at him in attack mode at full throttle. Kyungsoo ducked, anticipating a heavy physical impact but it didn't come. He opened his eyes to you tackling Junmyeon to the ground and scolding him, "How dare you encroach upon our privacy and attack my husband!" while twisting his arm at every emphasis.

Very rarely was Kyungsoo grateful about the fact that you were a cop and this was one such occasion. He quickly moved to get you off of Junmyeon's back while the man cried out in pain, defending himself, "Pri-privacy? This is a bloody public place!"

Panting, you eventually let go of Junmyeon, fixed your hair and earrings and straightened your satin silk very pale pink dress (one that was almost white under the wrong lighting but despite Kyungsoo's repeated requests, you ended up in white at a wedding). But as soon as Junmyeon regained composure, he lunged to attack Kyungsoo again, screaming, "I always knew that there was something off about you!"

"Yah yah yahhhh!" You held Junmyeon back like you would do a violent criminal as Kyungsoo ducked again out of fear.

"Enough!" You shrieked at Junmyeon.

Kyungsoo's big brown eyes were fixed on your brother's terrifying demeanour as he barked, "I can't believe you're scolding me after what I just witnessed! That man, that man was hurting you!"

"That man? Better watch your tone Oppa, he's my husband!"

"You can't be that blinded by love or...whatever this is! Does he have something on you? You can tell me! You know I know all the right people to get you out of this mess -"

"Hyungnim -" Kyungsoo attempted to defuse the extremely tense situation but stopped short as you held your hand up at him.

"For heaven's sake, I'm happy, healthy, and safe in my marriage. That's all you need to know. Now go back to your baby brother's celebration and leave us alone!" Hand on your hip, you squeezed your eyes shut and pinched the bridge of your nose.

"I'm not going anywhere until you explain what just happened," Junmyeon glowered at Kyungsoo.

The younger man didn't know how to clarify this without embarrassing you and in a state of blind panic all he could think of admitting to some sort of a dissociative identity disorder. But before he could lose any more brownie points with your brother, you came to his rescue albeit not doing much to help his already strained relationship with Junmyeon.

"Kyungsoo, you don't have to tell him anything. You, Sir, talk to me. No need to drag my husband into this mess!"

Junmyeon scoffed before breaking into a hysterical laughter, "You're unbelievable, little sister. Unbelievable!"

Kyungsoo closed his eyes, drew in a deep breath, and started, "Hyungnim, I- "

"You have the unmitigated gall to still be standing here!" Junmyeon snapped at Kyungsoo, causing the younger man to bury his face in his hands. When the brother sister duo fell silent, Kyungsoo looked up again to find Jumyeon taking furiously long strides towards the wedding party.

"I told you this was a bad idea," Kyungsoo said quietly, rubbing the corner of his eye, as you wrapped your arms around him and buried your face in his chest.

"I'll fix it, I promise. I'll speak to him when he's calmed down a little," you replied, softly patting your husband's back, "Do you want to stop at a McDonald's on our way back?

Kyungsoo chuckled, squeezing you in a tight hug and kissing the top of your head, "I hate you."

"I love you, too!" You chirped, and his features lit up with his beautiful heart-shaped smile.

"So? McDonald's?" You asked coyly.

He cradled your face in his hands and pressed his lips to yours. When you drew a staggered breath in response, he felt a wave of heat flushing through him. You giggled against his lips causing Kyungsoo to firmly pull your body to his. He scooped you up in his arms, kissing you with an increased fervour and rendering you breathless.

Gently pulling away, he answered in a husky, gruff voice, "Sure, dumb bitch. Took you long enough."

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rocorambles · 3 years

Text

Mending the Cracks

Pairing: Daishou x Reader

Genre/Warnings: NSFW, Choking, Spitting, DDLG, Degradation, Dirty Talk, Overstimulation

Summary: Daishuo prides himself on his cool and collected facade, his ability to not let anyone see past his polite and put together appearances unless he wishes them to. But Kuroo has always had a special talent for getting under his skin and now it’s your turn to help mend the cracks the messy haired captain has accidentally created.

Roco once again turns a request that should have been just a rough jealous angry spicy PWP fic into a whole angst/fluff/comfort fic WITH rough jealous angry spice~

Your heart sinks as the referee blows the whistle signifying the end of the game, pride and disappointment swirling in a confusing mixture inside of you as you rush to your feet, already making your way out of the stands and towards the locker rooms. It had been a good game, a great game, one Nohebi should be proud of regardless of the end result, that Daishou should be proud of. Yet, you know that’s the farthest thing from what any of the boys are thinking of as they dejectedly shake hands with Nekoma, another chance of Nationals taken right from underneath their noses, Daishou’s last chance of Nationals gone, just like that.

You should be paying more attention to your surroundings, especially in such a crowded building with masses of spectators and athletes, but you’re too focused on rushing to your boyfriend as fast as you can, barely dodging the crowds and receiving more than a few dirty looks from people you accidentally bump into in your haste. But it doesn’t matter. All that matters is comforting your lover, being there for him and reminding him that he’s still the most amazing person you know regardless of how one game went. And determinedly you quickly hook around the corner of the hall, only to yelp when you crash into something firm, the impact making you stagger back.

Mortification rushes through you once your body steadies itself and you fumble for words, stuttering out apologies when you realize what, or more specifically who, you’ve run into, practically diving to pick up the knee pads the other has dropped because of your carelessness. You can barely bring yourself to look up at the other person’s face, already cringing at the look of irritation you know you’ll receive (and frankly, deserve). But it’s the polite thing to do and your eyes slowly travel up and up a long, lean frame, only to blink in surprise when you see the amused smile on a handsome cat-like face as he plucks his knee pads from your hands.

He looks...familiar and you take a second to appraise him, eyes widening in shock when you recognize the Nekoma uniform and, emboldened by his lack of annoyance, you shyly smile, politely congratulate him on his team’s win and earning their ticket to Nationals.

You’re secretly glad your boyfriend is nowhere in sight, already knowing how childishly competitive he can get, especially where Nekoma is concerned. And you know he’d throw a fit if he saw you “consorting with the enemy”. But it’s the least you can do after running the poor guy over. Plus, Daishou really only has an issue with one person on the team and what are the chances that this athlete is…

“Oya? It’s not everyday someone decides to literally run me over. Nice to meet you. I’m Kuroo Tetsurou.”

Crap.

You pray to anyone who’s listening that Daishou doesn’t walk in on this scene, can only imagine how bad it would look to be caught chatting with Kuroo Tetsurou of all people only minutes after Nekoma had swiped Nohebi’s chances of Nationals away from them, even before you’ve talked to your own boyfriend.

But when it rains it pours and unknown to you, narrowed eyes scowl at the both of you from down the hallway.

If Daishou’s honest, the outcome of the match isn’t surprising. Nekoma has always been a stronger team than Nohebi, as aggravating as it is to admit. But it doesn’t make the loss any easier and he knows he’s just looking for a reason to pick a fight when annoyance curls inside of him at how quietly and respectfully Kuroo shakes his hand, not a hint of the other’s usual provoking or teasing after the match is over. He knows it’s out of sportsmanship, but he can’t help but believe he sees his own self-pity reflected in those feline eyes. And he storms out before he accidentally makes a scene, mustering every last bit of his snake-like charm to plaster a smile on his face and force out some pleasantries and kind words to his team, all the while wanting nothing more than to rush into your arms and lock himself away as he comes to terms with his dreams being dashed.

So imagine the stomach sinking shock he feels as he rounds the corner in his search of you, only to stare in disbelief as you smile up at literally the only person in this entire building who he’d rather you not ever meet, the person who led the team that had just crushed his team’s hopes, seemingly in no hurry to excuse yourself.

Shock makes way for hot fiery fury fueled by jealousy and insecurity and before he can fully register what he’s doing, he’s storming towards you, startling both of you when he suddenly cuts in between, rigid and stiff with hostility and anger as he shoves his face mere inches away from Kuroo’s surprised one.

It’s startling to say the least to have his view of you suddenly replaced by a larger figure and Kuroo instinctively steps back, uncertainty filling him when he sees heavy shadows of pure unadulterated ill-intent in Daishou’s eyes.

Interactions with the Nohebi captain are always playful, even if the stinging words aren’t always exactly lighthearted and Kuroo enjoys their bantering and rivalry underscored by respect for each other that both captains would die before admitting to. But this...this is different and Kuroo can’t help but think that somehow they’ve accidentally crossed the line to a point of no return, that something terrible is on the verge of happening, jaw instinctively tightening and fists clenching in self-defense.

“Winning wasn’t enough for you, so now you’re trying to rub more salt in my wounds by hitting on my girl?”

Oh. OH.

Kuroo KNEW you looked familiar, unsure where to place you, but it all makes sense as his brain quickly puts the pieces together, frantically working under pressure as the snake in front of him rattles his tail and hisses. You’re the new girlfriend he’s seen in all of Daishou’s social media posts recently. And suddenly it’s his turn to fumble over words as he tries to calm the furious athlete in front of him, desperately trying to find a way to de escalate the situation without having to resort to anything physical, trying to reassure the other captain that it’s not what it looks like, wincing at how cliche that phrase sounds.

You’re frozen as you watch the taller man continue stammering explanations, stunned by the feral aura radiating from your boyfriend, unsure what’s the best way to approach the situation without exacerbating the issue. But when you see Daishou take a step forward, your hands fly to the back of his jersey, harshly tugging at the fabric in a bid to drag him away from Kuroo, to keep him from doing something stupid that he’d regret.

You wonder if you did the right thing as you cower when he whirls around to face you, pinning you down with a practically murderous gaze. But then you see it, underneath the blazing fires of his eyes, the vulnerable insecurities he keeps so deeply hidden within him, that he’d shared about to you in full confidence, raring back to life and tearing him up inside.

Am I not good enough?

The question is unspoken, but you hear it clear as day and you want to scream at him, touch him, anything to wipe away the torment in his gaze. No, you're more than good enough. So much more. And despite the way you feel like a tiny mouse about to be swallowed whole, you easily let him drag you away, mindlessly following him and lacing your fingers with his bone crushing grip.

It's silent as you scramble to keep up with his determined pace, clutching at his arm and pressing against his side in quiet obedient comfort, a reminder that you're with him every step of the way, out of your own desire and love for him. And although his countenance remains stony, your heart swells when he instinctively leans into your touch, the dark fog around him lightening just a bit.

Not a word is said even as he locks his bedroom door behind the two of you, even as he pulls you onto his bed, wrapping his body tightly around you not unlike the creature he's nicknamed after.

And you let him, ignoring the discomfort you feel as he constricts your body too tightly to be comforting, murmuring how amazing he was on the court, what a respected captain he is, how you know there's still so many opportunities for him in life, volleyball, anything he wants even if Nationals wasn't his fate.

But when he remains silent, you nervously take a deep breath, knowing it's time to address the elephant in the room.

"Suguru, you know I love you, right? I only have eyes for you and no one else. Kuroo-"

You squeal in surprise when you're suddenly pinned to the bed by a toned body, gasping when a hand wraps around your throat rendering you silent, whimpering at the venomous look staring down at you.

"Don't say his fucking name, especially when you're in bed with me."

But you need to explain! Need to clear the air! And you desperately claw at his hand digging into your neck, struggling to force words out, only to moan when lips crash down on yours, a tongue slithering inside of your mouth and ravishing you, fangs harshly nipping at your lips in a warning to remain silent and pliant.

You pant for breath when he finally pulls away, trying to reach up and cradle his face in your hands, keep him still as you explain everything to him. But your efforts are futile and you moan when he promptly spits in your mouth the second you try to open your mouth to speak, body instinctively grinding against his when the hand on your throat tightens once again, mind busy trying to obediently keep his saliva in your mouth while simultaneously breathing through your constricted airway.

"Not a single word from you unless it's about me and how good I'm making you feel, understood? Swallow."

Daishou trained you well and you're quick to gulp down the pooled liquid in your mouth, baring your neck in submission as his lips and teeth possessively mark the expanse of your neck, sucking and biting marks you know you'll be proudly wearing for days afterwards, traveling down and down as your clothes are pulled off and haphazardly thrown away.

The room fills with breathy moans and sighs as you let him have you, let him mark every inch of you, relishing in the slight twinges of pain you feel when teeth sink in too deep, when lips suck too hard all over your collarbones, the valley between your breasts, your rib cage. But you wail when he deems you sufficiently marked, a hot wet mouth wrapping around one of your nipples, fingers harshly twisting and pulling the other.

"DADDY!"

Pride soars inside of Daishou at the nickname, a name he knows only he’s lucky enough to hear from your lips, and he pulls away from your aroused bud just long enough to spit out a few choice words.

“That’s right, baby girl. I’m your daddy. I’m the one who takes care of you. I’m the one who makes you feel good. So why the fuck did daddy find his precious girl chatting it up with some other man like a dirty little slut? Daddy not good enough for you anymore?”

Your head swirls from the degrading words, thighs clenching at hearing his endearing terms for you, but tears pricking at your eyes when you hear the trickle of doubt that seeps into his last question. Shame floods through you as you frantically shake your head, salty droplets leaking from your eyes as you begin to sob, desperately clutching Daishou’s sides and trying to pull him closer to you.

“No, Daddy! Never! Only you! You’re my only daddy. I love you. I’m sorry! I’m your good girl. Please let me show you that I’m your good girl?”

Daishou chuckles, warm fondness beginning to take off the frostiest edges of his insecurities as he watches you flail and fight against his hold in your pursuit of making him feel good, your greedy fingers trying to drag him closer to you, your hips grinding and humping his hardening cock like a bitch in heat as you babble and beg to ride him, suck him off, help him cum.

It’s heartwarming in the most depraved way how loyal and dedicated you are to him, how easily you’ll let yourself fall into debauchery just to please him. And in his heart of hearts, he knows deep down that you’d never betray him, that you love him just as much as he loves you. But the heart and the mind aren’t always on the same page and he can’t help the way his eyes narrow and his stomach twists uncomfortably when he replays the scene of Kuroo and you in the hall, even though he knows the chance of you being swept away so easily by someone else is close to null, even though he knows Kuroo is a decent enough man to back off once he knows you’re a taken woman.

“Settle down, little one. I know you’re a desperate slut for daddy, but today you’re going to behave, okay? You’re going to lay there, let daddy thoroughly remind you who you belong to, and thank me for it, understand?”

It’s a rhetorical question and you barely have time to nod your head before Daishou’s blunt cock head is pressing against your already drenched entrance. You claw at the bedsheets when he suddenly slams in balls deep inside of you, your sopping wet folds easily making way for his cock, and your toes curl at the abrupt stretch, eyes already shamelessly rolling to the back of your head from the sensation of finally being stuffed full.

“Daddy, so good, daddy, daddy, daddy” becomes your mantra, barely discernible amidst your wanton moans as he hardly gives you time to adjust before he’s starting up a brutal pace, hips slamming into yours, balls slapping your ass with every thrust. It’s embarrassing how close to the edge you already are, how you nearly came just from his cock stretching you full, but you can’t help it when Daishou knows your body even better than you, when your pussy is practically molded just for him, trained to be his perfect cock sleeve and you wail as you fall to pieces around his cock, body convulsing and mind shattering from the overwhelming pleasure.

But he doesn’t let up, continuing his relentless onslaught, smirking down at how broken you already look, drool and tears staining your wrecked face, incoherent babbling and wails slipping past your lips as overstimulation begins to wash over you, body now shaking uncontrollably as pain and pleasure swirl inside of you.

“That’s it, baby girl. You’re doing so well. Keep on taking it. Fucking take my cock! This is what you were made for. Being daddy’s cock slave that he fucks silly. Going to use you until you can’t even think about anyone or anything else other than daddy’s cock.”

There’s nowhere else he’d rather be than in between your legs and he swears he could die happy like this, cock buried deep within your tight pussy, would happily live the rest of his life bottomed out inside of you if he had the chance. But he’s only human after all and he can feel his end approaching, balls tightening and pace becoming wild and erratic when he hungrily devours the sight of your lewd state as you dopily smile, brokenly chanting “I’m daddy’s cock slave”, slurring thank yous over and over again. His hand reaches down to furiously rub your clit and all it takes is your second fall from grace, the sensation of your tight walls clamping and clenching around his cock, milking him of all his cum, to empty his balls inside of you.

It’s silent again save for both your shaky breaths as you come down from your respective highs and Daishou carefully slumps down to the side of you, pulling you to also lay on your side, wrapping you in his arms as your lower bodies remain connected, hooking his chin on top of your head and letting you burrow into his neck and cuddle up beside him.

But despite all his earlier bravado, you can feel his scales shift and skin shed as he reveals his softer, more vulnerable side, can feel him slump and his defenses crumble in the way he clings onto you, and you wriggle out of your comfortable position, ignoring the throbbing between your legs and all over you body as you determinedly reposition yourself until the two of you are face to face, forehead and noses pressed against each other.

“Suguru, I love you. I love you so much. You’ll always be more than enough for me.”

You smile at the love and hope you see reciprocated back at you in your lover’s eyes, giggling when it’s quickly replaced by panic and embarrassment as he holds you at arms length, staring in dismay at all the punishing marks he had left all over your body before frantically nearly crushing you as he pulls you tightly back towards him, apologies spilling from his mouth for being so rough, a stupid stereotypically jealous boyfriend. And you roll your eyes as he suddenly starts raving and ranting about how this is somehow all Kuroo’s fault, shutting him up with a forceful kiss of your own, a playful smirk sitting on your face.

“You told me not to mention his name and yet here you are, going on and on about him right after we’ve had sex. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’re a little more interested in him than two rival captains should be. Should I be the jealous one?”

You bite back a laugh at the look of pure disgust on Daishou’s face as he stares agape at you, jaw slack and open wide in disbelief at your blasphemous lies, using whatever latent talent you have as an actor to tap a finger to your lips in a parody of an inquisitive thoughtful gesture.

“I’m pretty open minded, Suguru. We can invite him for a threesome if you want. Ooh! Who do you think would top? Kuroo? You’d look so pretty on bottom for once, don’t you think? Or would you prefer to shut him up-”

You squeal in laughter and surprise when you’re suddenly being suffocated and crushed by a heavy weight on top of you, Daishou flipping the two of you over and laying his whole weight on top of you, shoving your face into his chest and grunting at you to shut up as he nuzzles his face into the top of your head and closes his eyes to rest, dragging you to an exhausted slumber with him as his breathing even outs and lulls your own heavy eyelids into shutting.

Somewhere else in Tokyo Kuroo sneezes out of the blue, curiously wondering if someone is talking about him.

#haikyuu smut #daishou x reader #daishou smut #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu fic #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #daishou #Daishou Suguru #haikyuu x reader

263 notes · View notes

deiliamedlini · 3 years

Text

Whumptober 2021- The Darkness I Know

Chapter 3

No. 3- Sticks And Stones May Break My Bones But...

taunting | insults | “Who did this to you?”

Fic Summary: After the world as she knew it was destroyed by the corruption of Malice, Zelda allies herself with her saviors from captivity: a disgruntled former governor, an alert paramedic, a cocky pilot, an excessively overt optimist, and a blind strategist. While the corrupted, malice-filled Yiga Clan looks for revenge on them, Zelda has to learn how important it is to find family in others... and how much more dangerous the stakes become if she fails to protect them.

Previous/ Chapter Index/ Next

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Zelda had choked before; it was almost impossible not to live in this new world and manage to escape without feeling the walls of one’s throat closing in after suffocating in clouds of Malice. While on the run, she’d been crushed under the grip of a crazed moblin. She’d felt people throw her down, and, of course, she’d choked on food before. Before everything, she even had a shellfish allergy, and knew how that could close a throat. She was no stranger to choking.

This was unlike any of that.

The man knelt in front of her as she dropped to her knees. His fingers toyed with a long chain around his neck, almost bored as he watched her clawing at her throat. His head cocked to the side. “You said you could survive, right? Show me.”

Eyes bulging in shock and fear, Zelda gasped in a small breath, barely enough to call it breathing.

Her food and drink. She’d taken it for granted, and now she was going to die for it. It had to have been poisoned. There was nothing else here, no Malice, no other reason.

But she looked around, not wasting any of the air she had left as it struggled to move in and out through her narrowing airway. It wasn’t the time to dwell on what caused her to stop breathing; she wasn’t going to survive everything she’d gone through the past few years only to die from this.

The man with blue hair in the cell was watching more intently now, but he didn’t look like he’d become much help.

The tall man was simply watching her with a patient smile. “And Dorian said you were worth my time,” he muttered, standing. “I suppose he was wrong.”

Zelda crawled forward and clutched the man’s sleeve, finding it hard to meet his eyes if he was someone who thought she wasn’t going to be weak. She wasn’t weak. She’d faced worse things than this. None that had her at the mercy of a seemingly insane tall man who was watching her die with every failed breath, but that’s beside the point.

With one hand, he leaned his elbow against his knee and toyed with his chain again, like a bored gesture, and with his other hand, he covered her hand in his, almost like he was giving her comfort.

“You made it further than I thought you would have. And if Dorian weren’t there, then you’d have been killed in the village with the others. So consider the extra time you had a blessing.”

Her lips moved, but no words were forming. She looked like a fish out of water, flailing around as it desperately tried to breathe.

“Only the worthy can join the Yiga,” the man whispered, caressing her cheek with a gentle touch, despite his imposing size.“Our Great Lord Demise has deemed that you are not.”

Mustering the strength, Zelda pushed his hand off her, but she rocketed forward into his chest. Her forehead hit something solid, and she blinked through a dark haze to see what it was.

A vial.

“Is there a test?”

“Everything is a test, Zelda.”

Without time to consider other options, or even the repercussions, Zelda ripped the vial off the chain that was around his neck. He pulled his hand away and allowed her tilt her head back to let the sticky substance slide down her throat, unable to swallow it, but managing to hold her breath to try to stop her natural reaction to gag the stuff out of her system as it warmed its way down.

The man sat back and let her go, a smile spreading slowly until his entire face was beaming. “Good thing you fell forward, not backwards.”

There was a chill of cool air on the back of her throat, feeling the breath she so needed returning to her, and she began to cough as she sputtered for air. That first breath tasted beautiful.

This man was insane.

Regardless of Dorian’s involvement with them, Zelda was no longer questioning whether these people should be trusted or not; the massive grin on his face spoke volumes.

She needed to find a way out of here fast.

Standing up, the man helped Zelda to her feet before gesturing for her to follow him down the long hall, away from the cells and the blue-haired man.

Dorian vouched for her with this man, yet here she was, just seconds from death. Her legs were shaking, and taking the steps required to get out of there was more difficult than she’d anticipated.

Dorian vouched for her.

She’d been so close to him; she’d worked with him every day. How could he be someone who would poison another person? How could he watch an entire village of people they were close with be slaughtered before his eyes? How could he hold her back while she tried to help?

“Who are…” she cleared her throat, still waiting for her breath to return fully. “Who are you?”

“Come,” he said instead, standing aside. “Let’s get you to a room.”

Zelda wanted to roll her eyes, but that almost seemed to belittle the position she was in. She hardly felt safe enough to blink, let along follow this crazy man into a room.

The blue haired man watched her through the bars of his cell, silently sizing up the situation with trained eyes, but before Zelda could mouth anything in his direction, he sank back into the shadows, and out of sight.

Zelda followed the man through a maze of corridors before ending up in a crowded, large room. It fell silent as they entered, and every eye turned to stare. People stood up from where they sat, fully attentive as they entered the room.

One man stepped forward, pale, with hair braided that fell in front of his yellow eyes. He had dark circles and bags under his eyes that he seemed to accentuate with makeup, and a deep purple hood that he kept over his head. Most jarring, though, was the glowing circlet on his head, an eye illuminated, much like the masks the others wore, but far, far more intense.

He knelt down and bowed his head deeply. ��She passed, My Lord?”

“For now. Find her a room. Watch her.”

“Yes, My Lord.”

The tall, burly man passed her off and stalked away, earning many heads bowing in respect as he passed them. The new man grabbed Zelda by the arm and tugged her with him.

“I didn’t think you were worth the time,” the man admitted.

“Thanks,” Zelda muttered, trying to keep her feet. If she could just get them to trust her, if she could just survive that long, she could get out of here.

“Dorian said you were someone we’d need. Talented. I see a waste of time, but who am I? If Lord Ganondorf believes you can survive the Malice, then there may be some hope for you yet.”

“Lord Ganondorf?” Zelda breathed, turning to look over her shoulder, though the tall man was already gone. She’d heard that name whispered in fear. She’d heard what the leader of the Yiga Clan did to people who got in his way. “Is that who that was?”

“You’d do well to recognize your betters.”

“Then I best learn your name as well,” she said with a sarcastic smile.

He caught on to her immediately and shot her a disgusted look. “ You know that I can kill you and claim it was an accident.”

“Then face the wrath of ‘Your Lord’. Someone like you has to follow orders, since you’re clearly not at the top.” She was grateful that her voice was feeling better already, though there was a lingering ache that had settled where it had swollen and pressed together.

Zelda found herself pressed into the wall, held with the man’s forearm pressing against her throat, reagitating it immediately until she began to cough and gasp for air.

Then, there was a blinding light, and she felt warmth burning the side of her face, leaving a white, blinding glow in her eyes. There was a metallic taste in her mouth, and a foul scent fouling her nose. She knew the stench of Malice well. And this man was harnessing it.

“I have the power and the authority to kill you, girl. I am Ganon’s second in command here, and if I deem you worthy of death, then you will die.”

She tried to kick at him, but he pressed his knee into her, stopping her from flailing. He jammed his foot against her shin, and dragged her by the hair until they reached a door.

“Get in.”

He tossed her inside, watching with a smirk as she fell to the ground, holding her leg. “Astor. Remember that name, too. I doubt you’ll forget it now.”

Zelda hissed in pain and annoyance as she looked up from the ground just in time for the door to close and lock with a loud click, leaving her in a new cell, and with one more enemy than she ever needed to make from this group.

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evolutionsvoid · 3 years

Photo

Serpent of Hate, Guardian of the Wrathful River, Styx is one of five aquatic beasts that dwell in the rivers of the Underworld. Her territory is within the most famed river of this realm, both their names found upon many tongues in the mortal world. The two share the same winding body, slithering through the depths of the Underworld. In this twisting home, she spends all of her time patrolling its waters and shores, keeping an eye out for any who may intrude. Of all the rivers in the Underworld, hers is the one that receives the most warnings. It is not just the trapped souls who are told to avoid these waters, it goes to the regular denizens, guards and higher-ups as well. Do not even dip a single toe into this river, as it is a death sentence to any who violate it. As the regulars down below often say, "there is a reason no one else guards these shores." If one takes a dip or tries to cross this river to escape the Underworld, the wrath of this horrific serpent will come crashing down like a tsunami. The waters will surge and churn, as the massive creature barrels through the depths. All victims usually see is a wave of blue and teeth, then darkness. While all the other rivers of this realm are incredibly dangerous, there is a reason this one is most avoided. Of all the other beasts, she is the strongest by far. Her incredible length and muscly bulk makes her entire body a weapon. Charging through the waters at lightening speeds, she can strike an opponent with the force of a typhoon, obliterating ships and mortals, while sending more durable foes flying. Her length allows her to coil around larger foes and crush them with her powerful muscles, while a single whip of her tail can turn humans into a fine mist. Her raw strength alone makes her a terrifying enemy, but that is not the only weapon at her disposal. In fact, she has many, all which are presented in the form of razor sharp teeth. Styx is bristling with hooked fangs and sharpened teeth, sprouting from the various maws that line her body. All of these pale in comparison to the massive jaws upon her face, as they are large enough to swallow a ship. Simply opening this toothy chasm is enough to create a powerful vortex that sucks in water, fish, vessels and victims. If that whirlpool is not enough to capture prey, her throat is lined with a multitude of clawed tendrils, each eager to seize flesh and draw blood. They reach out like blind arms and strike like hungering serpents, dragging prisoners down into her cavernous maw. Waiting for those who fall in is another boney set of jaws, one that is more suited for slicing and chewing. The glowing hooked teeth on her face are mainly used to trap prey in her mouth, while these skeletal fangs are meant to shred them. It is said that this inner jaw is capable of biting through any material, be it mortal metal or heavenly armor. Everything is devoured and sent into the abyss of her gut, regardless if they are friend or foe. Even if one is lucky to avoid this massive mouth, the rest of her body is covered with hungering teeth, each ready to clamp down on any poor soul. Once the teeth sink in, crushing muscles will pull the victim into her body, where they will be dumped into her horrible stomach. It is said that there is no death within this organ, as victims are left to suffer in this excruciating pit of acid. The wretched fumes of this foul liquid awakens buried grudges and contained anger, turning prisoners into savage, crazed beasts. They will turn on the others trapped in her stomach, turning her body in a cruel and endless bloodbath. How long one must suffer in this pit of blood and poison is unknown, but a way out is known. Eventually she will vomit out unwanted things, be it trash, pardoned sinners or beings she wasn't supposed to eat in the first place. These refuse piles are found deep in the Underworld, as she is very specific on where she dumps her gut. These are foul and miserable spots, but some denizens may be seen rooting around in the filth to find interesting objects or bizarre valuables that wound up inside her. The Styx is known as the River of Hatred, and there is no better beast to guard these waters than her. She is an incredibly angry and violent individual, constantly in a state of seething anger. She views this river as her territory and she refuses to let a single soul intrude upon it. Her insane aggression has her lash out at any beings who dare touch her water or try to cross it, regardless of their power or authority. Her senses appear to be fine tuned to this river, as she immediately knows when someone dipped their foot into it miles away. With her strength and speed, she practically teleports to the site of the offense and immediately goes on a rampage. Any who are in the water will be quickly devoured, while those on shore will be seized in her tendrils and fed to her grinding maw. Boats and dinghies are not safe from her wrath either, as she can also sense when an unwanted craft touches the surface. These vessels barely stand a chance against her, as she reduces them to splinters in moments. It is said that guards near this region of the Underworld turn a blind eye to souls that try to fashion ways of escape, as they get endless amusement from watching these fools be devoured. She doesn't seem to find it so fun, as she throws a tantrum when anyone treads her territory, even thrashing and screaming long after the last offender has been eaten. This hatred she embodies even seems to emanate from her, coming off in that strange blue glow. Those who gaze at any of her numerous lights will begin to grow irritated and frustrated. Their anger will rise with each passing moment, until they are blind with rage and throw themselves into the river to extinguish this infernal glow. Those who succumb to this spell rarely last a second in these waters, as her wrath is far greater than anything they could muster. This insane territorial nature goes with any body of water she inhabits, as she is just as furious with intruders when she winds up in the mortal realm. If she is somehow dumped into one of humanity's oceans, she will be on the warpath. Trading routes and fleets will be demolished, as she views every one of these vessels as a threat and an annoyance. Crowded waterways and popular beaches will turn into a feeding frenzy, as she swoops in to devour dozens with each gulp. While these appearances seem to be caused by random chance or cruel fate, some say Styx is actually tricked into entering the mortal realm by the rulers and denizens of the Underworld, who are desperate to be rid of her.

Though she is a valuable guardian, it is well known that Styx is not a popular member of the Underworld. Her endless rage and furious nature causes her to turn on practically anyone. It is not an exaggeration when it is said she will attack anyone who disturbs her river. Guards, officials, rulers and even gods are considered enemies in her eyes, and she will throw herself at them if they dare make a single ripple. There are many stories of her causing chaos and destruction at inopportune times, especially since the river is a sacred site for ceremonies and pledges. Many oath swearings have been ruined when an audience member accidentally disturbs the waters and summons Styx and all her fury. There was also the instance when a certain guard dog decided to take a drink from the rushing river. It took hours to pull the two screeching creatures apart, as it was a tangled chain of bloody teeth and locked jaws. There are even rumors that the god of this very realm is not safe from her fury, as she refuses to acknowledge his divinity. It has been noted that he only crosses the Styx upon the ferryman's boat, which officials claim is for ceremonial purposes. Others secretly believe it is because there is no other way he can cross without angering the vile serpent. Even though she flies into a blind rage whenever any breathing creature looks at her funny, there are a scarce few beings that Styx tolerates. It seems that the ferryman is the only sailor that can cross her waters undisturbed, as she will never bring harm to his boat. At first it was believed that his vessel had some kind of protection or spell that warded her away, but further observation has shown that she is passive around this fellow. When he is crossing the river, she will be swimming close by, keeping close to her friend and also waiting to see if any fool falls from the boat. At times he may sit upon the shores of the river, and she may rest her head upon the sand for both company and comfort. Of all the beings in the Underworld, he is the only one who can seemingly rein her in. When she starts attacking a sacred ceremony or is trying to eat some divine guest, folks are quick to find the ferryman and bring him in to stop her. Styx also seems to begrudgingly tolerate the other river keepers, always grumbling and growling but never fighting. She does admit that their respective rivers are their territory, so she does not invade them without permission. She does also observe the great marsh where the five meet as neutral ground, she is just always cranky about it. Regardless, it has been seen or heard that Styx has some hidden fondness for the other river beasts. She has been seen watching Acheron's sadistic hunting techniques and appears to enjoy the show, though if anyone asks, she will say that Acheron is an immature child who is incapable of taking her role seriously. Cocytus is often seen as an grating annoyance, with Styx having no time for her wailing. Her singing and crying is met with shouts and demands for her to shut up. Styx often chastises her for being so emotional and not getting over these stupid worries. However, Styx has been seen being quite miserable after these cruel outbursts, often hiding away somewhere to stew in self-loathing. She knows quite well that Cocytus is not the only one plagued by emotions she cannot control, and she hates herself for inflicting this pain on another victim. While she may grumble about Lethe and her absent mind, Styx is able to find peace and calmness when bathing in her forgetful waters. When hanging close to Lethe, Styx is momentarily freed from her endless anger, giving her a rare chance to relax. When she is free from this influence though, she is quick to return to her rage, suddenly thinking that this was some ruse or trick to get her to drop her guard. As for Phlegethon, Styx says that the fiery beast is a constant source of irritation with her stupid dances and vain attitude. As a vigilant guardian, she believes Phlegethon has gotten the wrong job, as there is no time for extravagant shows and grand performances. The burning slug's ego and self-praise really gets Styx wound up, and every self-compliment that arises is met by biting insults and angered muttering. Though Styx often yells and mocks Phlegethon, the two have been seen together quite often. Styx insists its because the egotistical dancer is obsessed with getting her approval, which she will never give. However, the serpent is quite bad at hiding her enjoyment of these performances or when Phlegethon gives some subtle flattery. Styx would never admit such a thing, as the burning hatred that flows through her body makes such confessions difficult. Thankfully, it seems Phlegethon is aware of this curse, and sticks close with the fuming serpent in hopes of finally breaking through. --------------------------------------------------------------------- And end it with a sea serpent! Excellent! That is the last of my Beasts of the Infernal River and boy was it a blast! I love these gals and Styx was a really fun one! This project was nice and easy for me, as there were only five this time! Now I must return to the hunt, to find the next big thing to chip away at. Hopefully I can find some other short ones, as it gets quite tough when I got to come up with ten or more unique designs for something! This is also the end of Kaijune for me! Hope you guys enjoyed what I made! Now that I am done making monsters, I can get back to making monsters!

#styx #monster #creature #sea monster #kaiju #kaijune #sea serpent #gulper eel #eel #art #drawing

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ikeromantic · 3 years

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A Kasugayama Christmas Carol

I think this is what happens when you’re playing ikesen on your phone and watching A Christmas Carol. I have no other excuse. This bit of holiday fluff is 3700 words (yes. omg)

Starring:

Kenshin Uesugi as The Scrooge

MC as ‘the assistant’ or Cratchit

Shingen Takeda as Tiny ‘Tim’

Yukimura Saneda as Nephew ‘Fred’

and Sasuke as all Ghosts

Kenshin did not like celebrations. They were a waste of time. Efforts could be better spent on war: preparing for war, training for battle, making swords and armor, building walls . . . And yet, every year in the dead of winter his assistant always wanted to celebrate. “It’s a holiday,” she would whine and ask for time off. Try to decorate. Make fancy food. What a waste.

This year, he decided it was enough. This year, no one would have a good time. Scrooge them, he thought. So he was ready when the girl from the future waltzed into his office, hands full of ribbons and origami stars.

“You will get those out of my sight,” Kenshin ordered. His mismatched eyes were small and cold, and very cruel.

His assistant winced. “But Kenshin - can’t we have just a little celebration? I’ll even bring you some pickled plums and special sake.”

She was good, he thought. Tempting him like this. “That sounds - wait, no! You get back to your desk and work on those intelligence reports. I want to know who we’re fighting in the spring. How many warriors I’ll need to muster. How many swords . . .” Just thinking about the coming battles made him feel a little better.

It didn’t seem to make the girl any happier, but Kenshin didn’t feel at all responsible for her joy. She could cheer up and do her work, or do her work with a frown.

Her head dropped, the smile falling from her face. The expression of pure disappointment almost made Kenshin change his mind - afterall, would it hurt so much to have a bit of cheer in the castle? But no. He was a man that never lost a battle. Not even a battle of wills.

It was well after dark when the girl stuck her head into his office again. “K-Kenshin? Sir?”

He looked up from his battle diagrams. “Yes?”

“C-could I go home now? It’s a holiday and - and my friends are waiting for me. I was supposed to get off work two hours ago but I was trying to finish everything first. I-It’s just too much for one day. Sir.” The words tumbled out of her mouth in a flood.

“You can leave when you’re done.” Kenshin bent back down over his own work, annoyed at the disruption.

He heard the girl slide the ricepane panel shut, her tread slow as she returned to her desk. “I pay her too much,” he muttered. “Such defiance. Deserves nothing.” But as he thought it, he remembered he didn’t actually pay her at all. She’d been a chatelaine for his enemies - he captured her, brought her back and, well, she had to have something to keep her busy. So all in all, hiring her was a pretty good investment.

Midnight neared and it was only then that the girl wearily stood, stretched her arms and back, and then trudged toward Kenshin’s office. This time she didn’t even open the door. “I finished,” she told him. Her voice was low and weary. Exhausted.

“Then I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow to start on the next batch!”

“Lord Kenshin . . . please . . . could I have tomorrow off to spend with my friends? I - I mentioned it’s a holiday?” Her pleading took on a desperate note.

“I suppose you’ll be spending it with those other poor fools. Tiny Shingen and my nephew Yuki. Wasting a whole day to make merry!”

She squeaked something that sounded like a yes.

Kenshin frowned. This wasn’t what he liked hearing. Normally, her voice was sweet. He liked to hear it call out to him through the day, masking irritants like chirping crickets or squawking birds. She knew his tastes very well . . . “Gah, fine! Take the day off! But it’s coming out of your salary.”

“My Lord, you don’t pay me. So . . . I guess I’ll see you the day after tomorrow?”

“I said so, didn’t I?” He tapped his fingers on the desk in annoyance. He’d like to give her one last, good glare before she took off but the door was shut.

“Th-thank you, my lord! Have a h-happy holiday!” Her rapid footsteps, almost skipping across the boards gave the lie to her earlier exhaustion.

“I should work her harder,” Kenshin muttered. “Then she wouldn’t have time to make friends besides me. I mean - that she would miss because she’s busy working. I don’t have friends.”

The lonely warlord eventually put his own work away and settled down for a nightcap. Warm sake and some pickled plums. Then he went to his room, dressed for bed, and lay down. Usually, he’d fall asleep as soon as his head met the mat, but tonight he just couldn’t seem to get settled.

Wind made the branches outside creak, and the window panes rattled. Eventually though, his eyes drifted shut. Welcoming darkness. Dreams he would not remember come morning. Or so he thought.

Ghost of Sasuke

No sooner had Kenshin began to drift into dreamland than he was woken by the clanking of heavy chains and a grumbly voice.

“Keeeenshiiiiiiin,” the disembodied voice groaned. And the clanking grew louder and closer.

The warlord’s eyes went wide and he stood, grabbing his beloved sword Himetsuru Ichimonji. “Who’s there,” he shouted, swinging the blade in a wide arc.

“It’s me. Sasuke. Don’t you remember me, Kenshin?”

And then in the darkness, a face materialized. Glasses, fluffy brown hair, and a pale green neck scarf.

“What’s wrong with you? Why do you look so pale? And your skin . . .” Sasuke’s skin gave off a pale glow. Kenshin pointed the tip of his sword at the ninja.

“I died, Kenshin! Because of youuuuuuuu . . .” The Sasuke-ghost wailed, and his hands shot out of the darkness to grab at Kenshin’s nightrobe.

The warlord scrambled back, away from the spirit. “No! That’s not possible. I think I’d remember if you died.”

“Your training . . . killed me,” the Sasuke-ghost whispered.

Kenshin shook his head. He had trained Sasuke hard - hard enough to turn him into one of the best ninja in a generation. But he hadn’t killed him. Had he?

The ghost came closer, chains clanking. “Now, because of you, I am bound for eternity to suffer. Because I went along with all your violent schemes. I enjoyed war too . . . and now I will pay for it. Forever!”

“I don’t believe a word,” Kenshin growled. “You’re not really here. This is just a bit of undigested plum. An upset stomach from a bad batch of sake. Spirits aren’t real. And my ninja isn’t dead!”

“It doesn’t matter if you believe me or not.” The spirit drew back into the darkness, disappearing from sight. “I only came to warn you, Kenshin. Tonight, you will be visited by three ghosts. The completely original and definitely not trademarked Ghost of Holidays Past, Present, and Future. You must listen to them. Or else.”

Kenshin laughed coldly. “I am not afraid of you, spirit. Or these . . . not . . . trademarked . . . ghosts. Let them come!”

There was no answer.

The warlord waited, crouched and tense. Nothing else happened. Tired and even more annoyed, he went back to bed. “Have to stop eating pickled plums so late at night,” he murmured. Then rolled over and tried to get back to sleep.

Ghost of Holidays Past

His eyes barely shut when a strange laugh startled him awake again.

“Ho ho ho,” the laughter boomed, and a finger tapped Kenshin on the shoulder.

The warlord leapt up and started to reach for his sword, but the absurd sight in front of him stopped him in his tracks. A face that seemed old and young all at once, with a beam of light pointed up from its head. He thought for a moment that it was Sasuke again - the thing had glasses on, just like the ninja, but this spirit wore a strange gown and wide, dangerous smile.

“Who - what are you?” Kenshin inched away from the thing, beginning to feel a bit nervous.

“Didn’t I - I mean, Sasuke, warn you I was coming? I am the Ghost of Holidays Past, Kenshin. And I have come to show you things you’ve forgotten.”

The warlord got to his feet. “I haven’t forgotten anything. So you can leave. I am tired and I want to go to bed now.”

“Oh, I think not Uesugi. You are coming with me.” And the spirit grabbed his hand. The thing’s skin was cold and clammy, like holding to a fish. It led Kenshin out of his room and into a bright-lit hallway. There, people were wasting time and making merry. There were bunnies with colorful ribbons on their necks, and a girl . . .

Kenshin gasped. For a moment she looked like his assistant - the Oda captive and timetraveler. But then he realized it was Isehime. And the boy beside her - was him? It was hard to tell. The face was young and he couldn’t make out the eyes but . . . the boy was wearing his clothes and playing with Isehime and the rabbits. They were laughing together.

“Do you remember now? The joyful times you had before?”

Kenshin blinked. He absolutely was not crying. It was just dust and the bright light. Yes. He scrubbed a hand over his face and turned to the spirit. “I don’t want to see this anymore. I’m going to bed.”

The Sasuke-similar Ghost of Holidays Past nodded. “I can’t force you to watch. But I think perhaps I’ve jogged a memory loose.” He let go of the warlord’s hand.

Kenshin stumbled back to his room and slid the door shut. What an awful vision that had been! His memories of Isehime came rushing back - all of the good times they had before cruelty and politics ended their youth. Had it been worth it to waste all that time in fun? He shook his head. No. No. That was for children too foolish to know better.

“Enough, spirits,” he growled as he got back into his futon. “I don’t want you showing me anything else.”

Ghost of Holidays Present

Kenshin’s order barely left his lips before another spirit arrived. Just like the last one, it wore glasses too. But this one had a big, bushy beard and a round belly.

“Ho ho ho! I am the Ghost of Holidays Present, here to show you what you’re missing!” The spirit stopped speaking for a moment to adjust his beard. It was slipping sideways as he spoke. “We have a journey tonight, Uesugi. Now come on!” The ghost leapt onto the window sill and held his hand out.

“This is foolish,” Kenshin grumbled. But he stood up and took the spirit’s hand anyway. “You aren’t going to show me anymore visions of . . . her - of Isehime - are you?”

“No. That was past. This is present. You see, the time-differential really isn’t that complex when you take into account the potential for flexion in dimensional space as relates to - ah - I mean, ho ho ho! Let’s uh, go!” The ghost grabbed the offered hand and pulled Kenshin out the window.

“Are you sure you aren’t my ninja?” Kenshin asked, eyeing the spirit as it led him through Kasugayama.

“Who me? No! I’m just your friendly neighborhood ghost.” He poked his round belly. “Your ninja isn’t fat like I am right?” He *carefully* tugged his beard. “And he doesn’t have a beard, right?”

“That is true,” Kenshin agreed. “Just when you were talking. It sounded like the nonsense he says sometimes.

“It’s not nonsense,” the ghost began, but stopped to point. Ahead, there was an open window. Warm lantern-light spilled out onto the snowy ground. Inside, Kenshin could see his assistant. Only . . . she was beautiful. Her hair was down and she was smiling so brightly it made his heart clench in his chest.

“What - what is this? What are you showing me, spirit?”

“Kenshin, this is the holiday-that-is. Watch.” The ghost let go of his hand.

A figure came up behind the girl, a large man with light brown hair and grey eyes. Kenshin remembered him - a former warrior everyone called Tiny Shingen - a joke, as he was not at all small. He was smiling too. Kenshin’s assistant turned around to look at him and Shingen lifted her up, starting to spin her around. But he stopped, pain twisting his smile into a pained grimace. He began to cough and grabbed at his chest.

“Oh, Shingen. I’m so sorry. If only I had more . . . firewood, yes, firewood to ah, to keep our little home warm. Then you wouldn’t cough so!” She went to a small stove and picked up a kettle to pour Tiny Shingen a cup of tea.

Another man entered the room - one Kenshin knew all to well. His always cheerful nephew Yuki. He was Kenshin’s last living relative, but honestly, the warlord couldn’t stand him. He was always giving away things and being . . . kind. Not the type of behaviour a war-focused warrior ought to be engaging in. Seeing him here made Kenshin think the boy had too much free time on his hands. He ought to make him train more. Maybe send him out scouting . . .

The girl gave Yuki a hug and he squeezed her tight. The sight sent a dangerous current through Kenshin. No one ought to be touching her like that. So intimately. She was his captive! His assistant! But . . . she looked so pleased. Had she ever smiled at Kenshin that way?

The three of them huddled around the small stove for warmth. But they all looked so happy. Chatting and laughing. As if even this meager life was worth living.

Kenshin couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed from joy or pleasure. Or hugged. He wondered if he still knew how. He tried out a ‘happy’ laugh. It sounded like a dry cough. Worse than Tiny Shingen.

“Um, what was that?” The ghost gave him a side-eyed glance.

“Nothing.”

“Ah, right then. I think that’s enough. Let’s go back to your room.” The spirit turned to go.

Kenshin grabbed his sleeve. “Wait! Tell me, spirit. Is this really happening? Or is it just a vision, like what I saw from my past?”

The ghost nodded. “It is really happening. Right now. These people are celebrating and joyful, just to be together. Even though you’ve denied them so much . . .”

Kenshin nodded slowly. Perhaps . . . war wasn’t the only thing. He could try to relax. Just on holidays. Maybe pay his assistant. Or. Give her a hug. He smiled at the thought. It might even be pleasant.

When he got to his window, he stopped and asked the ghost. “Is there one more of these visits tonight? I - I think I’d like to see more of my assistant.” He wasn’t sure why he felt hesitant to ask, but these sights stirred something uncomfortable in him.

“There will be one more visit, Kenshin Uesugi. One more spirit. The Ghost of Holidays Future.” And then in a sudden poof of smoke, the Ghost of Holidays Present was gone.

Kenshin climbed back into his room through the window and sat down on his futon to wait. He was almost excited.

Ghost of Holidays Yet To Come

Kenshin did not have long to wait. There was a rustling outside his window. When he turned his head to look, all he could see was darkness.

“Come, Kenshin Uesugi. I have things to show you.” The voice came out of the darkness, echoing and cold. Nothing like the previous ghosts of the night.

Still, Kenshin really wanted to see more of his assistant. What she would be doing the next year, for example. Perhaps this ghost could show him a future where Kenshin and the girl played with ribboned rabbits and hugged each other.

He stepped out into the darkness. In it, he could just make out a form. Heavy robes covered the body, and over the face, a mask. Horned, with bulging eyes and sharp fangs. Like a shinigami, he thought. But he was Kenshin, God of War. Demons did not scare him.

The ghost said nothing, only turned and began to walk.

“Should I follow? Where are we going?” Kenshin hurried after the spirit.

There was no reply. But soon, it became apparent where they were headed. Out of the darkness, a crowd of stone monuments and the gentle slopes of ancient kofun.

Kenshin stopped. “Wait, spirit. Why are we going to visit graves? Aren’t you supposed to show me holidays?”

The ghost turned and from the depths of its sleeves rose a bony hand, fingers curled in a universal come-hither gesture.

Feeling unnerved, and wishing he’d brought his sword, Kenshin continued on. Into the dark graveyard. The figure stopped before a fresh dug grave, the marker laying on it’s side nearby.

The ghost took a lantern from its vest and lit it with a flick of its fingers. In that dim, flickering light, the warlord could just make out the characters carved into stone. Uesugi Kenshin.

“What? No! I am the undefeated God of War. Nothing can kill me. I should know. I’ve tried.” He put a hand to his mouth surprised by the honesty this spirit coaxed from him. He looked up at it. “What - what is it that kills me? Poison? An assassin? Sickness?”

“Bitterness,” rasped the cold voice. And it gestured to several fresh graves nearby. On them, Kenshin could make out the names of his assistant, and her friends. His nephew Yuki. Tiny Shingen. And Sasuke.

“Then. This is all my fault?” He knew he’d caused countless deaths on his many campaigns. Soldiers that came to his banner, and numberless enemies. But this was different. If the spirit was right, they would die because of the flaw in his soul - not from some hostile force.

He swallowed, feeling again the hot sting of unshed tears. “Why do you show me this? Do you think I can change? I have reasons! I have lost . . . so much. If I open my heart again, then what?”

The spirit gestured with a bony finger back toward Kasugayama. There, silhouetted against the city’s lanterns, the form of a girl. His lovely assistant. Could things be different between them? Could he learn to be more than her captor and taskmaster? Kenshin wasn’t sure, but he decided in that moment to try. He was, afterall, the undefeated God of War. It would be ironic if he was his own undoing.

“I think I understand,” he said wearily. “I want to change. I do. I don’t know how but . . . I will try.”

“And you will have help,” the ghost said quietly, in a voice so like Sasuke that it made Kenshin look twice. It laid a hand on the warlord’s shoulder. “Now go home and sleep. Dawn comes.”

Kenshin obeyed. He felt bone-tired, his chest hollow with regret.

Holiday Epilogue

The morning dawned bright and early. Kenshin woke to the song of birds, and the bustle of the castle. He felt energized. Purposeful. He got up and put on his best clothes, then began summoning servants. There were so many things to get done! Food, wine, music - and decorations! Yes!

His vassals clearly thought he’d lost his mind, but they knew better than to disobey. His years of harshness served him well in organizing a feast - and not just for his vassals. For the whole town. He wanted everyone to celebrate with him- on this new day, where anything could happen.

When the people gathered and began filling their plates, a gentle sweet voice spoke up behind him.

“Kenshin. Did you really set all this up?”

The warlord turned, and there she stood. The captured Oda princess, his assistant - no, if he was honest, his slave. But no more. He knelt and took her hand. “I am so sorry for all I have put you through. Today - today is the first step in making it up to you.” He turned his mismatched eyes from her hand up to her gaze. She was wide-eyed, cheeks pink. “Can you forgive me,” he asked.

“I already did,” she smiled. And there it was. That brilliant warmth that made his heart pound.

“You are too good for this world,” he sighed. “I want you to know - if you want to leave, you can. But if you stay . . . if you stay, I’d like to treat you like a princess. An Uesugi princess.”

She pursed her lips, thinking. “I don’t want to go. I have friends here now. But, what about them? Tiny Shingen needs medical care. And Yuki - he needs etiquette lessons and some time in a hot bath -”

“What did you say, boar woman?” Yukimura shouted at them from across the courtyard, where the feast was laid out.

Kenshin stood. “Nephew! Come here! I want to apologize.”

“No thanks! I uh, already forgive you too! But I prefer to stay out of stabby range.” Yuki chuckled as he said it, but he didn’t get any closer.

The girl smiled and squeezed Kenshin’s hand. “It will take time to show him you changed.”

The warlord nodded. “I suppose it will. But in the meantime - I will have the best doctors look after Shingen. Is that . . . alright?”

“I’m sure Shingen will appreciate that,” she replied.

“Is that a goddess with my name on her lips,” asked Shingen as he stepped out into the courtyard.

Kenshin felt a spike of jealousy, but he took a breath and smiled. “Please don’t flirt with my assistant. Just . . . go get some sweets and wait for the doctors to arrive.”

Shingen’s smile was wide. “I haven’t even started to flirt, Kenny. But alright. I am feeling peckish. I’ll be back later to see how my angel fares.”

Sasuke flipped down from a nearby roof to land in a one-knee crouch, superhero style right in front of his lord. “I might have a better idea for Shingen’s care my lord. If I can offer.”

“I thought you were dead. I saw your ghost.” Kenshin reached out and grabbed Sasuke’s cheek, pinching it. “You feel real enough though.”

For some reason, Shingen and the girl were laughing. Yuki was too, from his spot across the yard.

“I assure you - I am very muth alive. Pleath let go of my cheek.”

Kenshin released his ninja. “So you are. You can tell me all about this idea later. Today, we celebrate. It is . . . a holiday.” And he smiled down at his assistant, who still held one of his hands.

#ikemen sengoku #ikesen #ikesen kenshin #ikesen shingen #ikesen sasuke #ikesen yukimura #ikesen kasugayama #a christmas carol #otome guys #otome #fluff #christmas #holidays #i'm sorry #fanfiction #fanfic

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the-salty-asian · 4 years

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Chapter One | The Weaver

A/n: Hey look a series I’m going to finish this time! I’m super super excited to share this with you guys and I’ve worked really hard to perfect it! I hope you enjoy it! :))

Summary: A new girl moves in across from Peter and infiltrates his life.

Warnings: none that I can think of

Word Count: 2.1K

Y/n had never loved the city, it was too busy, too loud, and a drastic contrast from what her true home was. She missed the stars at night, the sweet smell of grass, and most of all the quiet. An ache wrapped around her heart and squeezed, she missed it already. The feeling quickly moved to her stomach, turning to boiling rage at having to leave her home because of the carelessness of a few superhumans. She swiped at the tears that prickled her eyes, the sooner this was over the sooner she could go back home.

Through the glass she spied the curly headed boy rushing with his head down towards the door. A devilish grin tugged at her lips, he was right on time. She positioned herself in front of the building’s door and braced herself for its impact. It swung open, the metal collided with her shoulder causing her hands to release the boxes she had been carrying. They fell onto the sidewalk as y/n staggered from the force.

“ohmygodimsosorry!”

A pair of strong arms steadied her and she was met with the warmest brown eyes she had ever seen. He stepped back from her, concern written all over his face.

“Are you ok?”

“Yea, I’m fine,”she let out a breathy laugh. “I just hope whatever’s in these didn’t break.”

Y/n crouched to pick up the boxes and a few random items that had fallen out of them.

The boy kneeled beside her, “Here, let me help you with those.”

“Oh no, you don’t really have to-”she began to protest.

“No no, I gotcha! I’m your friendly neighborhood-”he stopped as if the next few words were to reveal a secret. “well neighbor.”

Y/n stopped them halfway down the hallway at her door. When his eyes fell upon the door, they lit up and he turned to her with a goofy smile.

“Hey you’re right across from my place! If you need anything just knock! ”

“Thank you-”

“Peter,” the boy extended his arm out to her.

She took it with the warmest smile she could conjure, “Y/n.”

“I guess I’ll see you around then?”

“Yea, see you around.”

A smirk played on her lips while her eyes lingered on the wood across the hall from her. Peter didn’t have a single clue about the web he had flown into.

The next morning, y/n was thankful to not cross Peter Parker’s path on the way to school. While the life of the city bustled around her, she went over the plans she had created. For the past few weeks, all that had occupied her mind was how to claw her way into his life. It had been so easy to meet and the plan was a small snowball rolling down a hill. But she still needed to be cautious not to leave out the one factor that could be her end, Elizabeth Allan, the daughter of the Vulture. Y/n would bet on her life that Liz would be out for her the moment she set foot on campus. Likewise, she could do the same to Liz and risk having herself dragged down too.

As Midtown High School came into view, a sense of dread dragged at her feet. This was her weight to pull, to be the daughter her father needed.

Y/n soon came to find that lunch time was the worst high school experience, especially for the new kid. Her eyes roamed the tides of students buzzing around the cafeteria, all of their conversations turning into one jumbled frequency that made her head hurt. Across the room, Liz glared at her with the rest of her sharks, just waiting for a drop of y/n’s blood to send them into a frenzy. The only thing that was keeping her afloat was, their fathers’ truce, that was until Peter was dead. Once one of them squashed the spider, Liz was free to tear out her throat with her perfectly manicured nails. Y/n’s lip curled up slightly as she wiggled her fingers at her enemy. In return her eyes hardened as if she had the power to turn y/n to stone. If she was going to die, she might as well give Liz a run for her money.

Y/n’s eyes scanned the cafeteria once more until they found the one person who landed her in Midtown in the first place. The hatred made her stomach churn and turn her saliva to acid at laying eyes on him. Beside him sat a chubby boy with floppy black hair. They mirrored each other perfectly. One hand propped up their heads and their gazed held by the one and only Elizabeth Allan. She had to give it to the girl, Liz barely interacted with Peter and yet she could ask him to drop a bus on himself and he would do it. If she could do that, y/n could barely imagine what Peter would do once she had him in her web.

“Hey Pete!”

He remained unfazed by her greeting that sparked the annoyance in her stomach. She glanced back at Liz who flashed her a taunting smile. For a moment, y/n imagined what it’d be like to knock out her perfect teeth.

She cleared her throat, breaking Peter from Liz’s spell. When he looked up to meet her, his eyes widened to the size of the personal pizzas the lunch ladies were serving, “Y/n, h-hey what’s up?”

Under the table he stomped hard on his friend’s foot causing the chubby boy to wince in pain. He opened his mouth to berate Peter before his eyes fell on y/n standing before the two. She forced the sweetest smile she could muster onto her lips.

“Is this seat taken?”

The curly headed boy stared at her in disbelief, his mouth moved to speak but no words passed his lips.

“Take it,” his friend cut in. He shoved his hand in front of Peter’s face towards her. “I’m Ned.”

Y/n inwardly rolled her eyes as she took it, “Y/n.”

Across the table, the girl rolled her eyes over the top of her book, “Wow a female is talking to you boys, congratulations.”

Y/n turned towards the girl awaiting an introduction that never came. The mysterious bookworm continued on as if she had never said anything. A feeling in her stomach told her that this girl would add onto the ever growing amount of obstacles. Nonetheless, y/n tucked away the thought for later and took the empty spot next to Peter, who had turned his attention back to Liz.

“So I need a favor,”

“Hm? Yea,”Ned nudged his friend's arm causing his chin to fall out of his hand. “Sorry! What do you need?”

“Could you show me where AP Bio is?”she laughed nervously. “This school is ten times bigger than my last one.”

That much was true, y/n’s schooling had been confined to wherever her father would drag them. She couldn’t remember the last time she had stepped foot into one.

“Yes of course!”

“But Peter our class is on the-”

The look on Peter’s face cut him off, “It’ll be no problem at all Ned!”

Ned’s cast a wary glance at his best friend before returning to his meal.

“Great thank you!”

An awkward silence blanketed the table that seemed unnatural to the buzzing atmosphere around them.

“Hey, did you know Peter has an internship with Stark industries?”

“Ned!”

So that was his cover. She turned to look at a now blushing Peter stumbling over an explanation. If he weren’t the enemy she’d find it almost endearing. Almost.

“Is that true, Parker?”

“U-um yea it’s a bit complicated.”

“Have you met Mr.Stark?”

“Yea briefly, he’s a busy man- I can um show you to the science wing now. That’s if you want.”

“That’d be perfect!”

Peter stood abruptly almost knocking the contents of his lunch tray into his lap. Y/n followed in suit, saying a quick goodbye to Ned before weaving through the lunch tables to keep up with Peter. Over the sea of student heads she found Liz’s eyes boring into her skin. A venomous smile spread onto her face as she slipped her a wink. Their little game of chess had just begun.

Y/n spent the next two hours watching the clock tick at a pain-stakingly slow pace. Thoughts of skipping teased at her mind until the bell rang at 2:45. She pushed through the wall of students desperate to leave the hell hole. It was foreign for every little thing she did to be ruled by a bell. Come to think of it, Midtown High School wasn’t too far off from a prison. A voice in her head nagged at her, that would become her life if she were to slip up. But she wouldn’t, there was no way she could-

“Y/n wait!”

She stopped in her tracks and quickly hid her annoyance before turning to greet him. Peter was running down the sidewalk trying desperately to keep all of his textbooks cradled to his chest. He didn’t stop until he reached her and even then he was barely out of breath.

“Yes?”

“D-Do you mind if I walk home with you? I mean not to your home but to my house, apartment. I-”

He was cut off by her placing a hand on his shoulder. Y/n bit back her laughter watching the effect her contact had on him already. Peter had gone silent automatically and his eyes were wide in shock. A small grin played on her face, she was already making strides larger than Liz.

“Don’t kill yourself Pete.” she let out a fake laugh. “It’d kinda look weird if we didn’t, ya know? One of us trailing the other like a stalker?”

“Y-yea I guess.”

Peter fell into stride with her as an uncomfortable silence lingered about them. As they waited for the subway, y/n went to work digging into the life of Peter Parker.

“So the girl who was at your table, is she your girlfriend?”

“MJ? No, no way! We’re just friends.”

The slight change in Peter’s voice didn’t go unnoticed by her ears and the light pink on his cheeks betrayed him. For having a secret lifestyle, Peter was very bad at lying.

“You know,”he stole a glance at her. “you’re asking all of these questions and I don’t know anything about you. For all I know you could be plotting a murder.”

The corner of her lip turned up, oh if only he knew.

“Shoot.”

“Where are you from?”

“We move around a lot, never in one spot for too long.”

Peter continued to fire questions at her and every single one she dismissed with a lie or bent truth. For every three questions, she was allowed to ask him one. In no time at all, their apartment building loomed over them. A cloud of frustration weighed on her chest, she had barely scratched the surface. They climbed the stairs together, y/n didn’t remember when she had offered to help carry his textbooks, but the added weight made her struggle.

He turned to her at the door,“Well here we are.”

She dumped the textbooks into his arms,“Thank you, Pete!.”

“Don’t mention it.”he grinned. “I’ll see you tomorrow!”

“Yea, tomorrow.”

Y/n let the door slip behind her and slumped against it’s wood. She massaged her cheeks with her knuckles, loosening the sore muscles from smiling all day.

“Good first day?”

Y/n’s body tensed at the calm, steely voice that reached out to her. She turned to face it’s owner. Donovan Sinclair sat in his armchair, his attention occupied with the latest issue of The Daily Bugle. He didn’t look a day over thirty and surely not anything like his daughter. The only thing y/n inherited from him was his cold (y/e/c) stare that could silence a room. She gave him one now, wishing that it would make him spontaneously combust but she had never been that lucky.

“Oh come on it couldn’t have been that bad!”

When she didn’t reply, he folded up his paper and stood with a sigh. Within three strides he was towering over her, making y/n squirm under the weight of his stare.

“All I need you to do is get him to trust you, ok? It can’t be that hard, bat your eyelashes, sweet talk him, he’s a boy he’ll come through. Just remember you’re the spider-”

“And he’s the fly, I’m pretty sure I got it by now.”

She flinched as his hand landed in her hair, “That’s my good girl.”

Taglist: @rebekamckenzie @blossomreed @theamazingtomholland @moistpotatobear @pluckypete

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #marvel #marvel imagine #Avengers #avengers imagine #tom holland #enemies to lovers #the spider and the fly #tom holland imagine #spider man x reader #spiderman #spiderman imagine #spider man: homecoming

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joontopia · 4 years

Text

Evolver: Chapter 1

pairing: namjoon x reader, jimin x oc, jin x reader

genre: mafia!au, evolver!au, superpower!au, soulmate!au with angst, smut, & violence

summary: Evolvers are humans with special powers. Your father, Min Seojun, is one of the most powerful businessmen and CEO in the country. Known in the underground as the most feared mafia leader, Zeus, due to his evolver ability. Growing up alongside your twin brother, Yoongi, all you’ve ever known was the harshness and dangers of the mafia lifestyle. Until you met him...

word count: 3.7k

author’s note: this is the shortest chapter of the series. Most chapters will be around 6k words or more. Prologue and Chapter 1 are combined in this chapter.

warnings: nsfw, cursing, soft dom!joon, bratty!reader

Evolvers are humans with special abilities. While some have come out to the public and flaunted their abilities, most keep their powers a secret. Evolver abilities could range from Elemental abilities to Mental or Superhuman. Evolvers are rare, with the tendency to skip generations in families. Most are feared due to their historic use of their powers for personal gain, typically landing them on the wrong side of the law. On the day of an Evolver’s birth, their eyes will turn a shade of red for the first full day before fading, not turning red again until each time they activate their ability. Evolvers’ abilities tend to manifest at a very young age. Although rare, evolvers can experience a phenomenon called a ‘pairing.’ A ‘pairing’ occurs when two evolver ‘soulmates’ touch and meet for the first time. If these ‘soulmates’ have not completed the ‘pairing’ and come into close proximity, they will feel a supernatural pull towards each other. When they touch for the first time, a burst of energy is released into the surrounding area. It has not yet been discovered what causes the phenomenon or the true meaning of this event. When two evolvers have become paired, they will experience heightened control of their abilities and, in most cases, develop new manifestations of their existing power. It has not yet been determined if every evolver has a ‘pair’ with only a few known pairs confirmed to have existed.

“Welcome home, Miss Min.” Myung, the family butler, was the only one to greet you as you walked into your family home. “How was your flight?”

“Early,” you said with a tight smile. You stood in the main entrance of your family home, still wearing the black skinny jeans, black hoodie, and tennis shoes from the night before. Myung gave you a smile of his own in return. Your business trip to Japan was cut short when your father requested your early return home. Having finished your business early, you were hoping to spend the next few days exploring and partying your way through Japan with your best friend, Ashley, who accompanied you on your trip. A business trip he insisted you take in the first place. Instead, you were met with an abrupt phone call from your father stating he booked you two a private flight back to Korea. Leaving at 5 AM sharp. “And you better be on it this time.” You knew by the tone your father used before he hung up that now was not the time to argue.

“I’ll have someone collect your bags from the car and bring them to your room,” Myung said as he closed the front door behind you while you made your way to the staircase. You were already tired of the small talk and desperate for a shower. “I’m sorry, Miss Min, but I would need you to follow me to your Father’s office. He asked me to bring you straight to him the moment you arrived.”

You stopped at the bottom stair, turning around to face the butler. “This can’t wait?” The annoyance in your eyes must have been apparent with the way Myung avoided your gaze. He slightly cleared his throat and quickly responded. “I’m afraid it can’t,” he said as he straightened himself and looked at you, “now if you would please follow me.”

You step down from the stairs and roll your eyes. “Unbelievable, what could possibly be so important,” you thought. You walked past your family butler and towards the hallway that leads to your Father’s office. “Don’t bother, I know the way.”

You make your way down the hallway, spewing off curses and complaints knowing good and well you wouldn’t be able to voice them once you are inside the office. Your father, Min Seojun, is one of the most powerful businessmen and CEO in the country. His business as an Arts dealer and hotel chain owner being fronts for his real position of power, the notorious mafia leader, only known to the world as Zeus because of his power. Your father was known in the underground as one of the most feared mob bosses and evolvers across the country. Crossing him is the last thing anyone should want to do, unless you had a death wish. That didn’t stop you, his beloved daughter, from pushing your luck. Being one of the only people brave enough to challenge him didn’t come without consequence. Your father’s evolver power is an elemental ability. The control of electricity. A power he shows no remorse using against anyone who crossed him, not even his own daughter. Not in the mood to deal with any physical pain, you decide you will behave during this conversation. Hoping that doing so will make it short and sweet. Your decision of playing the “good daughter” was cut short with how hard you threw the office door open. The door slamming against the wall before closing shut. “Fuck,” you thought as your father looked up from his desk.

“Nice to see you too, jagi. Sit.” Your father glared at you from across his office, motioning you to one of two chairs that are positioned in front of his desk. You walk over and sit down, crossing your arms and legs while doing so. You both sit there in silence staring at each other. After a few minutes, you decide to speak, trying to mask the annoyance and tiredness in your voice with calm.

“So why exactly did you call me back from my oh-so important recon mission 3 days early? Surely, it wasn’t just for me to sit here while you enjoy my company.”

“A father can’t miss the company of his daughter?” Your father tilted his head to the side, still looking at you.

“You’re not the type. Why am I here and not upstairs taking a much needed shower and nap.” Your father chuckled, before standing behind his desk. He was dressed in one of his dark blue suits that he usually wears. Rarely have you seen him in anything else.

“You know, you are just like your mother.”

“I wouldn’t know. I don’t remember her.” Your father walked around his desk, ignoring your comment, and stood before you with his hands in the pockets of his dress pants.

“I didn’t realize I was keeping you waiting. I figured you would have informed yourself while you were sitting there,” he said with smugness in his voice.

You rolled your eyes, uncrossed your legs and brought your left foot up into the seat, leaning into the armchair to make yourself a little more comfortable. Normally the evolver gene would skip generations, sometimes multiple times. But not you. You and your twin brother, Yoongi, share a common ability, only differing in how you specialize in using it. You both have the ability of attacking the human mind. Yoongi specializes in inducing nightmares, bringing forth your worst fears and making them stay on the forefront of your mind. He also has the ability to take away or hide memories. Even able to alter them, something we like to take advantage of when we are called to interrogate an enemy. You, on the other hand, specialize in reading thoughts and locating memories that people try to hide. These were abilities that help establish you and Yoongi as some of the scariest evolvers along with your father. No one likes having their mind poked and prodded.

“I'm running on only three hours of sleep after being thrown onto a flight at five in the morning. Forgive me for not wanting to put in any effort to do anything. Now what is this about?” You leaned forward in your seat, your tone laced with more spite than you meant to give. Your father frowned at your response. You can tell by the way your hairs stood up on your arms due to the shift of energy in the air that he is already growing tired of your attitude.

“Don’t forget who you are speaking to, girl.” Your father growled as he looked down at you.

Reminding yourself what you said you were going to do while walking in here, you plastered the sweetest smile you could possibly muster onto your face before saying, “I’m sorry, daddy. I guess I’m just really tired from my trip.”

Your father continued to glare at you, pursing his lips. Your fake smile has long since past the point of actually working on him. You started to wonder if he was going to continue to scold you when he finally spoke.

“I need you to be in attendance during our meeting with the Kims today.”

“Seriously… You called me back for a meeting we hold basically every week. Why not just bring Yoongi?” You don’t even try to hide the annoyance in your voice. This is ridiculous.

“Yoongi will be there, too. They specifically asked for you to be there.” Your father seemed unbothered by your annoyance. Not surprising to you. He’s only shown concern for your emotions barely a handful of times in your life.

“Since when did you start complying to the beck and call of the Kims?” You said with a little edge in your voice, knowing good and well just the mere act of insinuating that your father is someone’s call boy would piss him off. Just as soon as you felt smug with yourself for your smart remark, you just as quickly regretted it when a spark went off by your left ear causing it to ring painfully. You involuntarily let out a hiss, causing your father to smirk.

“I don’t answer to anyone, girl. You will watch your mouth when you speak to me.” He was glaring at you again, eyes glowing red, and you could swear you saw sparks in his eyes. “I only agreed because I need you there for intel. Kim Won-ho has recruited his nephew to join his ranks and I need to know what their intentions are.”

“Won-ho knows what I can do. He’s many things, but he’s not stupid enough to leave his mind freely open for me to explore. Maybe he is offering his nephew up as another potential son-in-law.” You roll your eyes as you make that last statement.

Your family and the Kims have been in a contractual partnership for as long as you could remember. You and Yoongi grew up alongside Won-ho’s sons, Seokjin and Taehyung, the two elemental evolvers of the Kim family. Fire and Ice, respectively. For the last few years, Won-ho has been determined to marry the two gangs together. Figuratively and literally. Only God knows how long he has been wanting this union, probably thinking he had a fighting chance when Taehyung caught you and Jin in a very compromising (but also very, very pleasurable) position. Jin was very quick to try and claim you and him as an item, which more than likely sparked his father’s campaign of joining the two families. Your father was just as quick to shut it down, demanding you to end whatever was going on immediately. Something you found easy to comply with, seeing that, for you, it was just fun. Fun that you and Jin did still have on rare occasions, despite your father’s order. Occasions that would still occur if that very handsome and deliciously wide shouldered idiot didn’t try and confess his love for you. He was so embarrassed from the rejection, he had Yoongi remove the memory from his mind. Yoongi happily accepted to help his friend, only after enjoying making the memory replay in Jin’s mind for a good 30 minutes. You had to give it to Won-ho, though. He had to have a big pair on him to continually ask your father for this union.

“Whatever his reasons. I need you there to seek them out. Is that understood?” Your father continued to stand in front of you.

“I’m assuming I don’t have a choice in this.” You stand up from the chair, glaring back at your father.

“You would be foolish to think you did.” He said, his tone so matter-of-fact.

“Fine. Is that all?”

“Yes” You read from your father’s mind as he turned to walk back around his desk and sit down.

You turned around and made your way out of his office and back up the hallway to the staircase. Once you made it back to the main entrance of the house, you were greeted by your brother who was whistling the bridal march. You look up to see him sitting on the stairs with his back leaning against the railing, smiling at the obvious annoyance on your face. You look him dead in the eye, and watch his smile turn to a frown once you pull a memory of him pissing the bed when he was 6. He flipped you off as you laughed and started up the stairs.

“How was your trip? Heard you finished your recon early,” Yoongi asked as you walked past him. You looked at him suspiciously, wondering if your father sent him to keep tabs on you. It wouldn’t have been the first time. Your father always believed you to be the more reckless of his two children and, honestly, he wasn’t wrong. But that doesn’t mean you didn’t know how to conduct yourself on a mission. Yoongi, knowing exactly where your mind was going, answered your unspoken question. “Jimin told me.”

“Ha, of course.” Park Jimin was one of you and your brother’s best friends. His family being part of the Min family mafia since before you were born. Him and your best friend, Ashley have been dating since you were kids. Both of them being the first evolvers you’ve ever known to undergo a pairing. “Intel gathering tends to be pretty easy when all your targets have a weakness for pretty girls. Barely had to read anyones mind or have Ashley torture them. It was very boring.”

You stand a few steps above Yoongi, leaning up against the railing.

“Well, it's good to have you back. It’s been boring here without you. I’m sure Jin-Hyung will be happy to see you,” Yoongi said with a wink as he got up from his seat on the stairs. This time it was your turn to flip him off.

“How is our beloved father today? Did you warm him up for me?” Yoongi asked as he walked toward the hallway leading to the office.

“Oh yeah. He’s a warm ball of loving emotion right now. Enjoy.” Yoongi laughed at you as he disappeared around the corner. You turned back around and continued to head back up the stairs towards your bathroom, where a much deserved shower awaited.

Namjoon looked out the window of his uncle’s car while they drove through the city. It’s only been two weeks since he’s moved up here from Busan, the city where his father was stationed to run his sector of the Kim family mafia. When his uncle showed up at his door, asking him to join his ranks in Seoul, it was a dream come true. Namjoon always felt like he was wasting his potential in Busan. Especially with the type of evolver ability that he had. Power of persuasion. Able to more or less bend people to do his bidding, even making them think it was their idea if he wanted to. He never really got to put it to the real test though. Only using it to settle petty squabbles against shop owners back home. Now on his way to a meeting with his uncle and cousin, he might be able to finally put it to the test.

“So who's all supposed to be there today?” Namjoon’s older cousin Seokjin asked his uncle, who was sitting in the front passenger seat. Namjoon’s attention left the outside world and he turned towards his uncle, curious to know this information too.

“Just Min Seojun and Yoongi. His daughter will not be there today. I asked, but he made it very clear. Apparently, she is still in Japan on her mission,” his uncle said, causing Seokjin to scowl in response. “No worries. She doesn’t necessarily need to be there for when Namjoon — how should I say this — talks some sense into Seojun about joining our gangs.” Uncle Won-ho smirked at his clever words.

“You don’t think Seojun will figure out what we’re doing? Isn’t this a bit risky?” Namjoon asked. Tales of Min Seojun’s ruthlessness and power spread across the entire country. Ruthless businessman by day, sadistic mafia leader by night. Most only knew him by his code name Zeus. Only his business partners and close friends knew his true identity. Those who weren’t labeled as such were not allowed to live long enough to spill his secrets. Namjoon had no interest in joining the latter group of people. Won-ho chuckled from the front seat.

“Don’t worry about Seojun, nephew. Him losing our partnership will hurt him and his status a lot more than he is willing to let on. We don’t have much to worry about,” Won-ho said as their car pulled up in front of a tall building with dark tinted windows, the Min’s company office building. Namjoon exited the black sedan and followed his uncle and cousin into the building. The large lobby was mostly empty with only a few paintings decorating the wall, a couple of couches and coffee tables for a waiting area, and a receptionist desk by the elevators.

“Good evening, Mr. Kim.” The girl sitting at the desk greeted Won-ho with a smile, dressed in a black suit dress with her blonde hair in a bun. “Mr. Min is waiting for you in the usual conference room.”

Won-ho gave the girl a nod and headed straight for the elevators. Namjoon, not wanting to be rude, gave the girl a soft “Thank you” and smiled, causing the receptionist to blush. He followed his uncle to the elevators, his cousin slapping his back behind him laughing.

“You gonna flirt with every girl you meet up here, Joon?” Jin said, still laughing.

“Just trying to make a good impression, Jin. What's wrong with that?” Namjoon laughed along with his cousin, Jin’s windshield wiper-like laugh being funny on its own. The three men entered the elevator. Won-ho pulled a keycard out of his pocket, placing it before a scanner located on the control panel of the elevator. When the small light on the scanner blinked green, Won-ho withdrew the keycard and pressed the button for the 7th floor. Shortly after, the elevator began to move.

“You ready for this, kid?” Won-ho looked at Namjoon with a serious look on his face.

“Ready as I’m ever going to be, Uncle.” Feelings of anxiety and excitement coursed through Namjoon. He looked at himself in the reflection of the elevator doors, readjusting his dark brown colored contacts before the doors opened. Namjoon and Jin followed Won-ho off the elevator, taking a left down the hallway.

“Jin-hyung!”

The three men turned around to look behind them. Yoongi, dressed in a dark blue button up and black pants, was walking towards them from the other end of the hallway.

“Yoongi-ah, new hair color I see,” Jin said, walking towards his friend and giving him a hug. Namjoon took a look at Yoongi again, now noticing his hair to be a light silver. Differing from the dark brown that it was just a week ago.

“You can blame it on boredom. Can I steal you away for a minute?” Jin and Yoongi walked further down the hallway and out of earshot. Namjoon turned and continued following his uncle into a medium-sized room that looked more like a parlor rather than a conference room. The room was low lit from the two chandelier type light fixtures that hang from the ceilings. There was one wall fully made of windows with little light coming through due to the dark curtains. Namjoon’s scan of the room was interrupted by his Uncle’s loud voice.

“Seojun, old friend. It’s good to see you,” Won-ho said loudly as he walked over to the man standing between two armchairs over by the far wall.

Namjoon made his way over to that side of the room, following his uncle when he noticed a girl, arms crossed, leaning up against the wall behind Seojun, eyes focused on the floor by her feet, her hair loose around her shoulders.

“Woah, she’s beautiful. Is this Yoongi’s sister? No, wait. They said she’d be in Japan. Does Seojun have a wife? Maybe Yoongi’s girlfriend?” Namjoon thought as he looked at her.

“Whoever she is, I wouldn’t mind having a go. She looks like the fun type.” Namjoon continued watching the girl, scanning her frame. His eyes falling on her neck as he imagined biting at it as he had her pushed up against the wall, one hand by her throat while the other hand was trailing down the black dress she was wearing before raising her skirt. All of a sudden, the girl looked up from the floor, eyes snapping to his while raising an eyebrow, catching him off guard. She tilted her head to the side and reached up to start putting her hair in a loose ponytail, exposing her neck fully as she did.

“Can she hear me?” Namjoon thought as he eyed her suspiciously. He looked closer at the girl, focusing in on her eyes, finally noticing the faint glow of red around what appeared to be dark brown colored contacts. “Wait a minu-- “

Namjoon’s thoughts were cut off by the close of the door behind him as Yoongi and Jin entered the room.

“Hey, what a nice surprise. Y/N, you’re here!” Seokjin said with a smile on his face as he made his way over to stand by Namjoon. Yoongi continued around the room to stand on the left side of his father.

“Ah, yes. Let me not be rude,” Seojun said, turning to the girl behind him. The girl pushed off the wall, walking to stand on the right side of Seojun, across the way from Namjoon. “Namjoon, this is my daughter, Min Y/N. Mind reading evolver of the Min family.”

Namjoon’s eyes widened as he looked at you in realization. He watched your red-tinted lips slowly spread into a smile across your face as you gave him a knowing wink. Namjoon’s cheeks flushed red, mentally kicking himself over his last few thoughts. Ones that he knows you most definitely read.

“Fuck.”

#evolver #bts imagines #bts smut #bts angst #bts fanfic #bts series #kim namjoon #namjoon imagine #namjoon x you #namjoon x y/n #namjoon x reader

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narika-a · 5 years

Text

Seventeen Mafia AU: Them falling in love with an innocent civilian

aka ‘You’re not part of/any way associated with the mafia and they fall in love with you’

||| Requested by anon |||

S.Coups/Choi Seungcheol

You cursed your late working hours as you wrapped the scarf around your neck more tightly and quickened the pace. It was snowing again and if that wasn’t enough, the wind was getting stronger.

“When I said I want a white winter I-” your thought was cut abruptly short when you tripped over something and fell face first into a pile of snow.

“What the hell?” you said out loud, searching for the thing you tripped on. Your eyes widened upon realization that it was somebody’s leg. You quickly stood up shaking the snow off and went to check it out.

There was a man leaning on the wall behind the dumpsters, his hand on his waist. You could see blood seeping through it.

“Oh my god!” you exclaimed. “Are you okay?” you crouched in front of him.

“Does it look like I’m okay?” he retorted. “Leave me alone.”

“As if!” you said, taking your scarf off and wrapping it around his wound. He winced in pain.

“Just leave!” this time he said more strictly but you didn’t listen. You threw his hand around your shoulders and lifted him up. To your surprise he wasn’t resisting. Or maybe he was just too weak.

“I’m going to get you to a hospital,” you said, dragging him out to the street.

“Idiot,” he thought to himself, as a small smile formed on his face.

Yoon Jeonghan

He came back. You saw him like once a month tops but this time he actually came to college to days in a row. You were shocked. You always thought he was about to drop out but apparently his excuse all the time was that he was busy.

Well this time you were not planning on letting him off the hook that easily. Being a class rep, you felt that it was your duty to find out if anything is wrong.

You caught him looking in your direction and decided to use this opportunity to talk to him,

“Not busy anymore?” you asked as you approached him.

“I’m always busy, but I’m also bored and had nothing better to do, so I guess here I am,” he said without even looking up at you. You frowned and leaned in front of him, so his eyes would finally meet yours. He was incredibly good looking.

“You know you will fail the course this way,” you told him.

His eyes narrowed. Who is this girl? He attended the classes so rarely and even when he did nobody would bother talking to him.

“Why do you care?” he questioned but you didn’t answer and instead pulled out a pen and paper and wrote down a date and location. You could feel his gaze on you and you couldn’t help but start blushing.

“I will tutor you,” you said and before you could embarrass yourself even more ran out of the classroom.

Joshua/Hong Jisoo

You first saw him in the supermarket as you were picking out cereal. A box fell out of the shelf and he caught it with ease. You were about to thank him but as you turned around to face him, you were quite literally stunned by his handsomeness.

He didn’t say anything and just put the box in your hands and left. You cursed for making yourself look like a fool, not being able to say anything and missing a chance to maybe start a conversation.

But luck was on your side. Or was it? As you met him not two days later this time in the library. Then you saw him again, in the park. Then in your favourite coffee shop. Then in the cinema. And a month later it didn’t even feel like a coincidence it was just plain creepy.

Thing is, Jisoo was thinking the same thing. After the encounter in the supermarket he started seeing you everywhere and immediately found this suspicious.

“Who is she working for?” he thought as he noticed you again, right across the street in the bus stop. He looked around. There was barely any people, so he decided that he couldn’t get a better chance to find out the truth.

“I’m Jisoo,” he said, standing near you. Startled you looked up at him.

“Why are you following me?” you both asked at the same time, staring at each other in disbelief. This must be some kind of misunderstanding...

Jun/Wen Junhui

He clenched his hand into a fist. This time he was ready. He was going to do it. He was going to confess. Stupid right? He could get any woman he wanted with the amount of money he has, yet he fell for a simple college student.

He found you sitting by the window, your back to him.

“Y/N!” he called you and you immediately turned around, a bright smile spreading on your face.It’s been a while since you last saw him and you couldn’t stop worrying about him,

“Jun!” you beamed up. “Where have you been?!”

He turned around, his face red as a tomato. Why did she had to smile at him like that? There is no way he can confess now.

“Ugh this girl is driving me nuts!” he thought to himself as he practically ran out of the room.

“Jun wait!” you called after him but he had no plans on stopping. But he knew. Tomorrow. Tomorrow he will definitely do it.

Hoshi/Kwon Soonyoung

He kicked a nearby can, still pissed about his car breaking down as it now meant that he will need to take the train to get to the emergency meeting.

He hated waiting and more than anything hated being out here in the cold. And everything made him angry. The fact that nobody from the gang could pick him up, he couldn’t get a single taxi to stop for him and this goddamn cold!

He looked to the right, to check how much more he needed to wait. And then he saw you.

You were reading a book. So immersed into it, completely ignoring everything outside. He looked at the cover. It was a crime novel. That thought made him smirk.

You lifted your head just as the train came and your eyes met. You closed the book and stepped onto the car.

“Maybe everything happens for a reason after all,” he thought as he followed you inside.

Jeon Wonwoo

You always liked working here. There were a few reasons, the coffee was great, the place was near your house but most importantly, him - a regular at the cafe. He always seemed like a very collected and smart guy and whenever you talked to him, it seemed as he went through a lot and could now suddenly understand the meaning of life, the universe and everything.

And you couldn’t help it. You developed a crush on him. Sadly all good things must come to and end and the end this time was the shop closing.

You could see the disappointment in his eyes when you told him the news. Little did you know but Wonwoo was coming here just because of you and now not being able to see you every few days made him feel sad.

He didn’t quite know why though. Or more like, he didn’t want to admit it.

He was reluctant to leave the shop on the last day but as soon as he stepped out through that door, you just had to go after him.

“Wonwoo!” you quickly caught up to him and grabbing him by his arm, pulled him closer and kissed him on the cheek. “We’re going to meet again. And that’s not a question.”

He put his hand on his cheek and slowly nodded, a smile spreading on his face.

“I guess we are...”

Kim Mingyu

You opened your door just to be greeted by a handsome tall dude.

“Yes?” you asked, confused what he wants and where the heck he came from.

“I’m Mingyu,” he casually introduced himself. “I live right across from you. I saw you recently moved in thought I would say hello.”

“Alright,” you said. “See you around,” you added, as you were about to close the door but he stopped it.

“It’s been years since anyone moved in here...”

“So?” you had no clue where he’s heading.

“Nothing. Just... Interesting, I guess...” he shrugged, looking you straight in the eyes. Then he turned around on his heels and left.

But that wasn’t the end of it. He would always look at you like you were the enemy of the state and you had no clue how you managed to get on the guy’s bad side.

One day as you were unlocking the doors to your apartment, he grabbed you by your arm and practically dragged you in.

“Alright, enough playing games sweetie,” he said, cornering you between the wall and his body. “Who hired you?”

“What the fuck? I have no clue what you’re talking about!”

“Yeah yeah, I know you were sent here to spy one me!”

“You’re insane! Let go of me!” you shouted, struggling in his grip as he looked around and slowly came to a realization that this indeed was just a normal apartment. He let go of you and took a step back.

“I may or may not have made a mistake...”

Woozi/Lee Jihoon

You couldn’t stop looking at the man who just came into the store. Not only because it was that early in the morning and he was the first customer you have seen in hours but also because of his hair. It just looked so soft.

You tried not to stare as you were cashing him out but he seemed to notice that.

“What? You got something to say?” he asked, brushing his hair back with his fingers. “Thought so,” he said, when you couldn’t muster a single word. He took his things and was about to go out, you saw an expensive looking car parked right outside the store from the corner of your eyes.

“Your hair!” you finally shouted.

“Eh?” he stopped in his tracks and turned around.

“Your hair! It looks really fluffy!” you stated.. You could see his cheeks turning into a cute shade of pink.

“W-what are you saying? Who even tells that to people they just met,” he said, brushing his hair back again. “Weirdo,” he said and quickly left the store. He turned around and looked at you once more before getting into the car.

“Weirdo?!” you thought. “He’s the weird one! Who buys that many noodles at 3 am in the morning!” you scoffed in annoyance. Little did you know but this won’t be the last time you see him.

DK/Lee Seokmin

You lifted your head up every few minutes to look at the man in front of you. You were waiting for your test results in the hospital’s lobby and and had nothing better to do but to draw. And well you had a perfect model in front of you. He was bandaged and seemed like he just got out of a fight.

You lifted your head again and your eyes met, so you quickly lowered it, hoping he won’t ask you anything.

But an even more unexpected thing happened. He stood up from his seat and sat down near you.

“I will take this, can’t let you have any evidence,” he said, snatching the notebook away from you.

“Hey! Give that back!”

“Nope,” he raised the notebook above his head. What a child. “Besides I never gave you the permission to draw me- Hey these are pretty good!” he complimented you once he noticed the drawing itself.

“Y/N,” he read your signature and smiled. Somebody called for him from the hallway and he stood up. “I still gotta take this,” he waved the notebook and left before you could react.

“What the heck?” you thought as he vanished with your best drawings.

However a few weeks later a packages arrived to your house. It was your notebook without the picture of him. ‘The picture looks really good on my wall’ the note attached to the package said, ‘Sorry. I’m afraid I won’t be giving it back. Can I offer you something else in exchange?’

The8/Xu Minghao

You noticed he was following you ever since you left the station. You quickened your pace to shake him off and a few corners later you were relieved to find out you lost him.

“Don’t move,” he said, putting the gun barrel against the back of your head. “If you scream I will just kill you right here.”

Too shaken up to speak you just nodded and let him led you to some nearby alley. He turned you around and your eyes widened when you saw that the gun is actually real.

“Y/N?” he asked confused.

“Y-yes,” you replied. He took out some photo and looked at it and then back at you a few times, before lowering his gun.

“Fuck!” he shouted, kicking a nearby dumpster. “He lead me to the wrong one!”

He stood there, breathing heavily for what seemed like hours before turning back to you.

“Oh well,” he said, pointing his gun at you. “Can’t leave any witnesses.”

“Wait wait wait!!” you immediately shouted, raising your hands. You had to come up with something quick. “I! I can help you find the Y/N you need!” you lied.

“Is that so?” he smirked. “And how are you going to do that?”

Well you certainly didn’t think this through.

“I will figure something out??” you said, hoping for the best. He stared at you and just started laughing.

“Fine with me.”

Boo Seungkwan

"Do you know who I am!!” you shouted, trashing in the chair you were tied to.

“I’m well aware who your father is, that’s exactly why you’re here,” he said, sitting down in front of you. “He’s stealing money left and right from his position in the government, that’s no secret.”

“My dad is no thief, he’s just doing his job,” you replied, not quite believing it yourself.

“Sure he is,” he leaned in closer. “Then I’m sure there won’t be any problem for him at all to pay the ransom.”

“You motherf-”

“And no,” he interrupted you, taping your mouth shut. “You’re too loud.”

You couldn’t believe this guy. Who does he think he is? You glared at him but he just turned on his heel and left the room.

To your surprise he came back not even thirty minutes later and untied you from the chair.

“Changed your mind?” you joked.

“No but it seems your father did. He’s not paying the ransom.”

“What?!” you couldn’t believe this, yet again it’s your dad, money is everything to him. You looked up at him.

“You’re thinking what’s going to happen to you now?” he asked. “You come with me.”

Hansol Vernon

"Wait, you forgot!” he shouted but the bus door already closed. He picked the notebook you left behind and quickly flipped through. Somehow he immediately had the urge to return this to you no matter what.

So he put his computer skills to the test. From the notebook he only got your name and email but that was more than enough to get him on track. He was so immersed in what he was doing, he completely missed his stop. But he was still determined to get the job done.

And about a day later he was at your college doorstep. He thought about coming to your house, since he found that address too but realized that would be too creepy.

He recognized you as soon as you came out through the door and luckily you were alone, so he approached you without hesitation.

“Excuse me!” he called you but you ignored him, thinking he wasn’t talking with you, so he had to run up and actually stop you. “You’re Y/N, right?”

“Yes?” you asked, taking your earphones out.

“I believe this is yours,” he said, handing you your notebook.

““You found it! Thank you!” you beamed up immediately. “You know you could have just contacted me on my email...”

“Oh we go to the same college, so I thought...” he started making something up.

“Thank you for going through all that trouble! Let me repay you,” you smiled and he couldn’t help but agree.

Dino/Lee Chan

You thought something was odd about your new coworker the moment you saw him. Not appearance or personality wise but it felt like he didn’t belong here or rather he didn’t need to be here.

“Why did you decide to start working here, Chan?” you asked him one day.

“My other job can get so boring sometimes, there is that many corpses you can hide before you get sick of them. I needed a place where I could relax a bit,” he said casually.

You stared at him for a couple of seconds and then started to laugh.

“Oh nice one! Didn’t know you had such a good sense of humour.”

“There is a lot more things you don’t know about me,” he smiled at you suspiciously. And from that day on, you wanted nothing more but to find out. However, he was a tease, always keeping secrets until one day he caught up to you after work.

“Y/N! I will take you home,” he said.

“What? Why?”

“That’s another secret,” he smirked.

“Well I’m not coming with you unless you tell me.”

He looked around as if someone was watching you two. He took your hand and started walking in the direction of your house.

“It’s better if you don’t find out...”

A/N: I’m quite sick atm, so pardon me if something doesn’t make sense 😂🙇🙇

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thiswasinevitableid · 4 years

Note

5 for Danbrey sfw? 3 would be fun for nsfw but idk if you do Danbrey nsfw

I decided to mush the two prompts together. I gave them saucy overtones, but they’re still SFW

5 Should I update my outfit again? I think they like my new boots but the cape didn’t get the reaction I was hoping for

3 Okay so when they wink at me after a great comeback, is that just their charismatic arrogance or do they maybe like me back?

“I think I should ditch the cape. I mean, she didn’t mention it all Cleopatra.” Dani sits down on the greenhouse bench to adjust her bootlace. Cleopatra tilts her head, curious, but does nothing else. This is because she is sentient venus flytrap and is limited in her ability to communicate.

“I did catch her checking out the boots. I think. Maybe she was just looking for a way to knock me off my feet.” She mists Cleopatra and her sisters, continuing, “which, also, she literally made a quip about wanting to sweep me off my feet. I just cannot get a read on her.”

She stands, walking to her devils-mouth orchids and checking their water levels, “I mean, I even picked fabric for the cape that made my eyes look nice. Jake helped me make sure the colors on the cape and the boots matched up and everything. Uggggggggh, I cannot believe it’s come to this.”

“Haha!”

“Not helping, Juice.” She turns to the Myna bird (one of three) perched on a nearby branch. They’re trained to be spies and minions, but mostly they offer unsolicited commentary on her life.

“Ask her.” Squawks another

“DON’T ASK!” Shrieks the third.

“Come to a consensus or I’m not putting that intelligence serum in your water anymore.”

The birds exchange a look.

“Don’t follow our advice!” says the smallest one.

“Don’t, don’t” echo the other two.

Dani sighs, turns back to Cleopatra, “Come on, help me figure out what to wear for the next time.”

The plant slithers along behind her (she modified the flytrap genome with anaconda DNA), curls up on the counter in the bathroom as she pulls out her make-up case.

“Okay, copper is good on the eyes right? It’ll highlight the gold. I think. Hmmmm…” she taps her chin with the end of a brush, “vampy red would definitely make her look at my mouth. Which is apparently a thing I want, because I am the worlds most cliche supervillain.”

Cleopatra rustles her tendrils sympathetically.

“But the red clashes with everything. Maybe a deeper color, oooh, the cute cashier at the coffee shop said this one looked good on me. I tried to think of something flirty to say back and just ended up complimenting her pompadour. God, why is villain me so much smoother than civilian me? Or is she even that any more?”

A vine pats her hand.

“Thanks girl. Now, having my hair up is safe for fighting, but does it make me too severe? Like, too dominatrixy? Or does the Lady Flame like that sort of thing? Uhg WHY DO I CARE?” She thunks her head onto the mirror.

“Half-twist?” The purple-crested Myna bird pokes it head in, cocking it’s head robotically.

“.....Perfect.”

---------------------------------------------

The Pine Guard has once again gotten the drop on the Crystal Cabal, much to Dani’s annoyance. What is the point of having a team mate who can see the future if this keeps happening to them?

She dives out of the way of a burst of flame, tossing a handful of her latest creation at her nemesis.

“Aw, flowers for me?” Lady Flame flutters her eyelashes, “they’re prettyYYYow, fireflower.”

“That’s right, I turned your own element against you.”

The hero picks up the flaming flowers and starts juggling them, “I’ve heard of hothouse flowers, but this is ridiculous.”

“She’s flame-proof, Demeter, for goodness sake, OW that hurt.” Indrid, aka Nyx, throws a punch at The Ranger, who absorbs the blow easily.

Dani hadn’t been thinking of flame proof heroes when she made the plants; she’d been thinking what color to make them so that the Lady Flame would think they were pretty.

“If you all would kindly just surrenderPUT ME DOWN!” The Agent yelps, indignant, when Barclay, aka Hermes, hoists him over his shoulders.

“And if you’d ‘kindly’ just hold still and not bother us for ten minutes, this could all be avoided.”

The fireflowers turn to ash, Lady Flame stepping through it with a grin, “I dig the new boots, very classy. Got a whole ‘don’t fuck with me vibe’ I like a lot.”

“That’s exactly what you should have done. You should have left us alone.” Dani musters her most imperious voice as she launches vines across the ground, taking Lady Flame by surprise and trapping her in the grasp of two large, green, fireproof tendrils.

“Hah! Surrender, all of you, or my pets will-”

“Eeeep! Hey, what the-” The Lady Flame looks behind her at the smaller vine that just pinched her butt.

“Ohmygosh, I’m so sorry-”

“C’mon now Demeter, no need to get fresh with her. That ain’t sportin.”

“That’s rich coming from the man currently straddling me.” Indrid hisses.

“I ain’t straddlin, I’m restrainin.”

“I mean I, whoah, hey there” another vine caresses Lady Flame’s chest, a third touches her cheek, “I’m not, like, opposed to someone getting handsy, or uh, viney, I guess. But you have to buy me coffee first.”

“I’m, I don’t know why they’re doing this. I’m so sorry, they’re being so rude and they will be mulch if they touch you in a way you don’t like.” Dani takes one step forward and a vine grips her ankle, starts twining upwards.

“Uhhhhh, why are they doing that?”

“They shouldn’t be! They respond to my thoughts and emotional state.” She tries every trick she can think off, but nothing makes the vines obey, and two more encircle her chest and stomach.

“Wait, if they respond to your feelings, then do you-GAH!” The vine around Lady Flame’s ribs visibly tightens, as the ones holding Dani drag the two women face to face.

“I’ve always thought you were breathtaking, but the literal approach is kinda freaking me out.”

“Me too.” Dani thrashes, and the vine tightens around her. She’s starting to get lightheaded.

“Guys, a little-”

“-Help!” Dani finishes the Lady Flames’ sentence, and the four other figures in the room turn towards them as one.

“Oh shit.” Barclay tosses The Agent away, drops down next to Dani, hacking at the larger vine with his utility weapon. The Agent recovers, tries to yank the main vine from it’s source only for a tendril to whip out and strike his cheek.

“I would like it noted that this was not a likely future.” Indrid tugs at the tightest vine, slashing it with his sharp nails. The Ranger manages to rip one off of Lady Flame’s arm, only for it’s larger cousin to shoot out, sending him flying into Indrid and knocking them both to the ground.

As their teammates continue their losing battle against her unfortunately durable creation, Dani turns to meet her enemies eyes.

“I’m sorry.” She whispers, “I never really wanted to hurt you. I just wanted you all not to hurt us.”

“I mean we, like, don’t hate you all or anything, but you’ve, like, been putting people in danger, and blowing things up-”

“Nyx didn’t blow up that bridge!” If they’re both about to die, there’s no point in keeping up the act.

“Wait, what?”

“He was framed, but we thought it made people take us seriously as a threat, listen to us, so we let people believe it was true. Same with me and that power plant. I just blackmailed the CEO into admitting they’d been dumping toxins in the water supply. None of us blew the place up. Hell, you guys were the ones who destroyed that factory.”

“.....wait, they told us you did that.”

“Who told you?”

“Them? Y’know, the big bosses?”

“We don’t have those, but we do have informants.”

“What the fuuUUUCk, ow, squishing my ribs, we’re being played.”

“That, ow, that sucks. All this time we’ve been fighting, we could have been dating, I mean, uh, working together.”

Lady Flame laughs, a bright, beautiful sound, “I knew you were checking me out.”

“Me?! You were the one who kept making flirty comments.”

“Hey, banter’s part of the job. Also, you have a cute butt and that costume really shows off your, um,” The last word is so quiet Dani can’t make it out, but given that Lady Flame glances at her chest, she’s got a good guess as to what it was.

The vines constrict and they both hiss in pain, the world going fuzzier at the edges as breathing gets almost impossible.

“I, if this, if this is the end, I just wanna say it’s been a pleasure doing battle with you, Lady Flame.”

Fire colored eyes meet her own, accompanied by a weak smile, “You can call me Aubrey.”

“Dani. Nice to meet you, Aubrey.” She has just enough energy to tip her head forward, bringing their lips together. It’s barely a kiss, but as soon as they connect the vines go limp, dropping them to the floor.

For a moment they gasp jointly for air, then Aubrey is in her lap, fingers tangling in her hair as she kisses her hard and happily. Dani sighs into the kiss, melting into the embrace, knowing full well the near-strangulation isn’t what’s causing the dizziness in her vision and the butterflies in her stomach.

“Uh, can’t help but feel we missed somethin.” Over in the corner where they were both thrown (twice), The Ranger tries to disentangle himself from Indrid, who sits up with a knowing look.

“Oh, I see. It appears we are about to form an alliance.”

“Really?” Barclay looks back at them from where’s hes sitting, checking the cuts on The Agents face.

“It’s a long story, but the cliff notes are: we’re pretty sure someone’s been setting us against each other on purpose. Making us each think the other caused certain disasters.”

“Which means it’s time for a team-up.” Aubrey cracks her knuckles, sending sparks flying. Then she glances shyly at Dani, who reaches out to brush stray ash from her cheeks, “Um, but before that, would you like to go out with me?”

Dani kisses her again, bumps their noses together with a smile as she murmurs, “That sounds really fucking awesome.”

#danbrey #aubrey little/dani #prompt fills #TAZ Amnesty #superhero au

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lets-talk-appella · 5 years

Text

They’re Us

Chapter 2/5

Summary: When the enemy looks like your friends, how do you know who to trust? For PP Horror Week 2019 - Doppelgangers.

Word Count: 4k

Rating: M for horror themes and some violence.

Chapter 1

AO3 and FFN

Spending time with Jesse post-break up is much more enjoyable than it had been pre-breakup.

Which maybe would have been nice to know earlier.

As soon as it starts raining during her last class of the day, Beca reaches for her phone. She has some vague hope that either Jesse or Stacie or someone can be persuaded to drive to campus and pick her up so she doesn’t have to walk home in the rain. Because of course she doesn’t have an umbrella.

When Beca pulls out her phone, however, she sees a notification from Jesse already waiting for her.

Jesse: U need a ride Becaw?

She twists her mouth, biting at the inside of her left cheek. His timing really is something.

Duh.

After another ten minutes wasted listening to her professor drone on, she’s free, class having ended, and she makes her way out of the building. Outside, she scans for Jesse’s car in the parking lot across the street, staying close to her building to remain relatively sheltered from the rain. After a moment, flashing headlights catch her attention. She crosses the street carefully and half-jogs to get to his car, the rain only becoming more intense by the second.

“Hey nerd,” she greets, swinging herself into the passenger seat and shoving her bag between her feet on the floor. As soon as she closes the car door behind her, the skies open and it starts raining even harder. The sound of the drops splattering against the roof of his car is almost deafening.

Jesse gasps in mock offense, putting a hand to his chest. “Is that any way to talk to your super cool ex-boyfriend who picked you up in the rain?”

She fixes him with the most deadpan expression she can muster.

He stares back, eyes wide and hand still on his chest.

She counts to ten, but neither of them blink.

“Is this gonna be a thing?” she asks blandly.

“Yep. Not gonna stop staring.”

“That’ll make driving pretty hard.”

“Probably.”

She transitions her deadpan expression into her most withering glare.

Jesse still hasn’t blinked or moved as far as she can see. Even she has to admit that’s pretty impressive.

Finally, she sighs and turns away, blinking against the sting of her dry eyes. “Oh my god, you’re so annoying,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest. “Whatever, thanks for the ride. Let’s just go!”

“Sore loser,” Jesse grins boyishly, his pose breaking as he starts the car with one hand, rubbing at his own eyes with the other. He pulls the car out of its spot and Beca buckles her seatbelt.

“How was your day? Good?” Jesse prods, glancing over.

“The usual,” she shrugs. “Arrogant professor, annoying amounts of reading that I’m not gonna do. Oh, some girl asked a really stupid question about—”

“So, uh, do you have to be home super soon?”

Beca frowns at the interruption. “Not really…” she answers slowly. “Why?”

“Well, I was thinking maybe we could grab Chinese or something,” Jesse suggests, momentarily taking his eyes off the road to glance over at her.

Just then, Beca notices that the music is off, which is unusual. Maybe the storm messed with the radio signal or something.

“Oh.” Beca shifts in her seat a little uncomfortably. “I mean, sure, but... like, we haven’t really been doing things like—”

“Not as a date,” Jesse says hurriedly, raising a hand to rub at his eyes again. “I just thought, you know, we’ve hung out since we broke up, but we haven’t really talked about, um, everything, and maybe we—”

“Dude, what’s up with your eyes?”

“Huh?” he looks over at her again, brow furrowed.

“Your eyes. You keep rubbing them,” Beca points out. “Did all that staring dry them out?”

“Oh.” Jesse blinks rapidly and returns his hand to the wheel and his eyes to the road. “No, just, um, some grit or whatever.”

“Oookay,” Beca says slowly, drawing out the vowel. “Can you see to drive? Like, with the rain?”

“Yes, Beca, it’s fine,” Jesse dismisses, voice turning impatient. “It’s supposed to stop soon anyway. Yeah, so, back to earlier, I was thinking we should go get dinner. And maybe talk.”

Beca hesitates. “I… what do you want to talk about? Just... stuff? Anything?”

“No, more like… about us. Don’t you think?” Jesse’s voice is light, but Beca gets the feeling he isn’t really asking. It’s not a feeling she particularly likes.

“Um, there isn’t really an ‘us’ anymore,” she reminds him, watching the side of his face carefully. “And I kinda thought we’d… talked… enough.”

“I mean, it’s kind of a big deal. It changes a lot.”

Beca’s voice lodges in her throat; when they’d broken up two weeks ago, Jesse had seemed to understand. It had been amicable. At least, as amicable as a breakup can be.

Jesse huffs what could be a little laugh. “Come on Beca, you can’t just tell me you’ve figured out you’re gay and then just not talk about it.”

“You said it was fine,” she replies stiffly, glaring out the window without really registering where he’s driving them to.

“Yeah, well, now I think we need to talk about it.”

A hard knot of anger forms deep in Beca’s stomach. “Jesse, I’m gay and I don’t like like you anymore. Done,” she spits defensively, using the most sarcastic tone she can manage.

Jesse rolls his eyes in annoyance.

Beca stares in disbelief. “What else is—so start talking then,” she says, stung.

“No, I mean over dinner,” Jesse insists again.

“Why can’t we just talk now? You’re making this a big deal.”

“Because we should talk over dinner.”

Beca stares out the window, noticing for the first time that he very distinctly did not drive the route that would take her back to the Bella house. “What’re you… Jesse, if this is some weird—what the hell, dude, why are you being so weird about this now?” she asks loudly, becoming more annoyed by the second.

“I’m not being weird, I’m being—”

“Ridiculous?”

“Seriously, Beca?” Jesse explodes, startling her into silence. “You’re gonna turn this on me? That’s typical, you know that? I’m taking you to dinner, and we are going to talk. That’s it.”

Beca swallows. In a much smaller voice than she’d have liked, she manages, “I don’t want to go with you.”

He ignores her completely.

“I mean it Jesse,” she says more loudly. “You’re acting really shitty right now. I thought we were fine. You said we were fine and it’s been working, and now—you can’t just—you know what?” she asks, the volume of her voice rising with every word. “Just take me home. I don’t want—”

“Shut up, Beca,” Jesse cuts her off with a snort of disgust. “You talk too much.”

Beca flinches. He’s never told her to shut up before.

“I… Stop the car,” she says, hating how much her voice quivers.

“No.”

Her eyes flick to the door locks, calculating whether Jesse’s driving too quickly for her to throw herself from the car and into some sort of tuck-and-roll.

“Stop the car,” she repeats.

He doesn’t answer.

Maybe for the first time ever, she notices how much bigger than her he is. How much stronger.

She’s never been scared of Jesse before.

She doesn’t like how it feels.

“Actually,” she tries, “I just remembered I said I’d help Chloe with—”

“You’re lying.” His voice is cold and certain.

“And you’re being a psycho!” The words burst out before she can stop them, and she immediately regrets it.

His expression darkens in a way she’s never seen, his face twisting and turning ugly. His knuckles whiten on the wheel. “Beca—”

“We’re at the restaurant,” she says suddenly, desperately, eyes catching sight of their favorite Chinese place rapidly approaching through the window.

For an instant, she isn’t sure Jesse is actually going to stop; when he does, he slams on the brakes, jerking Beca against her seatbelt and making the car behind them honk and swerve to avoid them. Muttering darkly, Jesse quickly maneuvers the car into a spot, parallel parking more perfectly than Beca has ever seen him do it.

“Get out,” he says, turning the car off.

Beca hesitates, but then realizes that being outside right now might be better than being in a confined space next to him. She unbuckles her seatbelt and fumbles for the door handle, finally pushing the door open and allowing a rush of the cooler air into the suddenly stifling car. The rain has slowed to a gentle shower, just like Jesse said it would.

He’s beside her in a flash—so suddenly that it startles her, because she hadn’t heard him get out of the driver’s side—and holding an umbrella above them both, sheltering them from the drizzle.

Standing on the sidewalk, she debates making a run for it. Even though he’s bigger and taller and therefore probably faster, she’d have surprise and more than three years’ worth of Bella cardio on her side—but then Jesse’s hand secures over her upper arm, gripping just a little too tightly.

He doesn’t say anything, but the message is clear.

Pure fear coils in Beca’s stomach, rolling and frothing until she thinks she’s about to be sick. Her throat closes and her mouth goes dry; she doesn’t even think she could muster a proper scream if she needed to.

Jesse takes a step toward the Chinese restaurant, steering her with ease, forcing her with him. She knows things will only get worse once they’re inside, unless she can slip away to the bathroom and make it out a window or something, but he’d see that coming.

“Jesse, I don’t want—”

“Beca? Jesse?” a familiar voice calls out over the rain.

Relief washes over Beca instantly; Jesse stops and they both look over to see Cynthia Rose and Stacie leaving the nail salon a few store fronts away, taking shelter under Cynthia Rose’s umbrella.

Beca barely takes a moment to wonder at the lucky timing. She’s too busy trying to convey to Stacie and Cynthia Rose that something is wrong.

“He—”

“Hey, you guys,” Jesse speaks over her, his hand sliding down from Beca’s upper arm to instead force his fingers between her own, holding fast to her hand. Stacie’s eyes follow the movement curiously.

Beca tries to shift away from Jesse and toward Cynthia Rose and Stacie, but Jesse only moves with her so that it looks like they’re walking in tandem. Jesse squeezes her hand hard in warning, and another thread of fear runs down Beca’s spine; she can’t let Cynthia Rose or Stacie get hurt.

“What’re you two doing here?” Cynthia Rose asks curiously.

“Just grabbing dinner,” Jesse says airily. “Right, Bec?”

He squeezes her hand again.

“Y-yeah, just some Chinese,” Beca manages, staring intently at Stacie.

A small frown appears between Stacie’s eyebrows. “Oh yeah? It’s nice that you guys are still hanging out.”

“Yep,” Beca says before Jesse can open his mouth. “Just can’t get away from each other.” As she speaks, she deliberately raises her free hand to play with the piercings on her right ear.

Both Cynthia Rose and Stacie’s eyes widen at the gesture.

Jesse doesn’t seem to notice. “Yeah, so, it was nice running into you, but we’re gonna—”

“Wait,” Cynthia Rose says quickly. “Didn’t you see Chloe’s text?”

Jesse pauses, looking annoyed. “What text?”

“I, um, haven’t been able to check my phone at all,” Beca replies, gently swinging hers and Jesse’s joined hands.

Stacie’s face becomes an impassive mask. “It was a group text. She just said to ‘come home now,’ so that’s why we’re headed out. You need a ride back?”

Jesse coughs. “Actually we—”

“It seemed important,” Stacie cuts him off. “And you know what Chloe’s like. Hell hath no fury.”

Beca has no idea of Chloe had actually sent any kind of text, but at the moment she doesn’t care. All that matters is that Cynthia Rose and Stacie had understood her.

Jesse tries again. “I’m sure that whatever she has going on will be fine without Beca.”

“That’s not really how Chloe operates,” Cynthia Rose says.

Stacie nods. “Yeah, when she sends group texts, she means business.”

Beca holds her breath.

A long moment passes. Stacie starts tapping her toe on the sidewalk.

“I—fine!” Jesse finally spits. “Great, sure. We’ll just go.”

“You need a ride?” Stacie asks again. “Cee and I drove.”

Beca opens her mouth, but Jesse beats her to it. “I drove her here. I can drive her home.”

“Oh, then I’ll just ride with you,” Stacie says smoothly, pulling her keys from her purse and handing them to Cynthia Rose. “Beca, I feel like I haven’t seen you all week, we’ve both been so busy. It’ll be great to catch up.”

“Definitely,” Beca says, trying to ignore the crushing pressure around her hand.

Jesse hesitates, and Beca knows he’s trying to come up with some excuse.

“I’ll just drive behind you guys,” Cynthia Rose adds. “Don’t mind me.”

Beca has to fight to keep the smile off her face. Cynthia Rose pretty much just ensured Jesse doesn’t make any detours driving them back to the Bella house.

Jesse seems to have realized the same thing. “Perfect,” he says through gritted teeth.

“Let’s go then,” Stacie urges, stepping close to Beca under the premise of taking cover under their umbrella and resting her hand on her lower back protectively. “Don’t want to be late for Chloe.”

“Of course not,” Jesse replies, the sarcasm in his tone obvious. Still, he leads the way back to his car, keeping hold of Beca’s hand. Stacie doesn’t pull away from Beca either, though, and she thinks that together they must make a strange sight, all crammed under the small umbrella. Jesse unlocks his car with the key fob and holds open the rear passenger side door for Stacie. She slides into the back seat gracefully, pulling the door closed behind herself. Jesse has to release Beca’s hand in order to open the door for her as well—keeping up appearances—and she slides into the passenger seat.

“You okay?” Stacie breathes as soon as the door shuts behind Beca, giving them precious few seconds alone before Jesse enters the car.

“No. He hurt my hand,” Beca whispers back, flexing out her fingers and wincing as the blood rushes back to her fingertips.

“I saw,” Stacie replies, her voice full of anger.

Then Jesse’s opening the driver’s door and climbing into the car. He slams the door hard enough to make the car rock, throws the umbrella behind his seat, and starts the car. Barely glancing over his shoulder, he pulls onto the road. Beca looks into the side mirror; Stacie’s white car, driven by Cynthia Rose, follows close behind.

They drive in silence. Jesse stares at the road, his hands tight around the wheel. Beca looks out the passenger window, her mind racing. She only risks one glance back at Stacie, who sits motionless in the backseat, her hand hidden in the pocket of her purse where Beca knows she keeps her pepper spray.

Cynthia Rose stays close behind them, the headlights of Stacie’s car cutting through the easing rain and reassuring Beca of her presence.

She’s terrified that at any second, Jesse will take a wrong turn. That he’ll drive her and Stacie to some secondary location and try to lose Cynthia Rose. But he never does. Before long, he’s driving them through the correct part of Barden, then into their neighborhood, and finally, down their block.

Still, Beca doesn’t breathe properly until he pulls into the driveway of the Bella house and turns off the car.

“Well?” he says harshly as Cynthia Rose pulls into the driveway directly behind them, effectively trapping them. “You’re here.”

Beca doesn’t hesitate, fumbling for the door handle. She opens the door, and as she pushes it open, she hears Stacie doing the same. It’s stopped raining completely.

“Beca!” a voice calls, and Beca steps out of the car to see Chloe positively sprinting toward her across the Bella front yard, white as a sheet. “Beca, run!”

“Wh—”

Beca’s throat stops working when she looks beyond Chloe and sees Jesse running after her, his expression horrified.

“He stole my car!” the Jesse running behind Chloe shouts, and Stacie starts screaming.

Beca’s brain has frozen with incomprehension. It doesn’t make sense. She has to be dreaming or hallucinating or something because Jesse just drove them to the Bella house and is still in the car. He can’t have been with Chloe, that’s impossible, he can’t have been in two places at once, and she knows she should run or scream like Stacie or do something, but she’s rooted to the spot, her body numb with shock until—

Jesse—the Jesse that had driven her home—grabs her from behind in a bear hug, pulling her to his chest, his crushing weight surrounding her, squeezing the air from her lungs. She flails on instinct, writhing in his grip, but he’s much stronger. He holds her tightly and starts moving, and she’s being hauled backward, away from the house and toward the street.

“No!”

She hears Stacie shout and Chloe scream, but she can barely focus on them. She struggles, flinging out her limbs, trying to escape. She tries making herself heavier, tries giving into gravity, but Jesse’s arms only tighten. Panic rises in her chest when she realizes he’s carried her to the road. She lashes out desperately and manages to hit Jesse in the neck just below his jaw; he gags, and his grip loosens. She struggles even harder and suddenly there are hands grabbing at her, pushing at him, as Chloe, Stacie, Cynthia Rose, and the other Jesse rip her free from him.

The Not-Jesse is shoved, hard, into the road as Beca is hauled back toward the house, sandwiched between Chloe and the real Jesse—she can just tell it’s him, it’s her Jesse—and there’s an abrupt revving noise, a deep shout, and a sickening thud, accompanied by bending metal and shattering glass.

Safe on the Bella yard, still between Chloe and Jesse, Beca looks back into the road and gasps.

The Jesse that had attacked her lies on the pavement, twisted and broken, his limbs at unnatural angles. He’d gone over the top of the car and must have been scratched by the windshield; cuts and scrapes cover what Beca can see of his body. The car—why does it look familiar?—that had hit him has already stopped, engine idling.

Beca stares at the still form on the ground. Her stomach rolls and she has to fight the urge to vomit.

“Um…” the Jesse at her side says softly, and she looks at him automatically. His face is ashen, his eyes fixed on the spot of the road where his doppelganger lies. Numbly, Beca looks around at the others. Chloe’s staring at the road, too, her expression more fierce than frightened. Beyond her, Stacie and Cynthia Rose are obviously shaken. Cynthia Rose keeps glancing between the broken Jesse on the road and the unharmed Jesse standing next to them.

Only a second has passed.

The car turns off and its door opens; Amy gets out of the driver’s seat, which explains why the car looks familiar: it’s Bumper’s. “Did I get him?” she asks, glancing at Chloe.

Chloe’s throat bobs up and down before she answers. “Y-yeah, I think you got him.”

Nodding, Amy walks over to the Jesse on the road, peering down at his unmoving form. “Pretty solid whack. He won’t be getting up.”

“Good,” Chloe breathes, glancing at Beca.

“I’m… you…” the Jesse next to Beca manages, sounding raspy. “You were right,” he finally manages, talking to Chloe.

“Yep,” she replies grimly.

Beca thinks she may have gone into shock. She feels lightheaded and floaty and can’t understand what she’s seeing.

“He’s… dead?” Stacie asks, her voice quivering slightly.

Before anyone can protest, Amy draws back a leg and kicks the Jesse on the ground, hard. “He’s not breathing,” she says. “I don’t wanna touch him to check for a pulse.”

“No, don’t touch him,” Cynthia Rose insists. “Just… leave it.”

“What…” Beca blinks the spots from her eyes.

Chloe steps away from her, cautiously moving toward the body. She leans over it, like Amy had. After a moment, she says, “His eyes… is that a contact lens?”

Beca doesn’t want to look, but the concern in Chloe’s voice draws her in, along with Jesse, Stacie, and Cynthia Rose. With great reluctance, she forces herself to look at the ruined face on the pavement. It’s turned to the side, resting one cheek on the blacktop, his upper body half-twisted and facing down. The one eye she can see is open and colored a startling amber, nothing like Jesse’s usual brown. On the pavement next to his face is a small film, blending almost perfectly into the pavement. It looks like a colored contact lens.

“His eyes,” Beca remembers, her voice sounding far away to her own ears. “He kept rubbing his eyes. I bet that’s why. He wasn’t used to them.”

“Aubrey did the same,” Chloe says, which only confuses Beca more.

“Aubrey?” she asks.

Chloe nods, her face pale. “They’re clones. Or doppelgangers, or aliens, or—something, I don’t know. But I talked to Aubrey’s. She looks—it was Aubrey. I had coffee with her. But then I called her, and she’s at the lodge. I bet she had color contacts, too.”

A headache has started to form behind Beca’s eyes.

“Ginger came home in a tizzy,” Amy supplies. “Explained. I knew it was only a matter of time before more of them popped up.”

“He stole my car,” Jesse adds, sounding like he has a head cold. “It was just gone, and I didn’t know where, so I came here to see if… well, I ran into Chloe, and she asked if I knew where you were,” he says to Beca. “And, well, she kind of explained and then we put it together and wondered if the other me…” he trails off, glancing at Beca. “Apparently, we were right. Did he—did you really think he was me?” he asks, voice hushed.

Beca nods, her mouth like sandpaper. “Yeah, I—I mean, of course I did. He looked like you. He picked me up in his—in your car after class. And he was so… normal, for a little. But then he got weird about—he just got really weird, and scary, and I knew something was wrong, but I didn’t think…”

“It was lucky we ran into them, honestly,” Stacie says. “We saw your text and were leaving the salon and happened to see them. Beca was great,” she adds. “She used the signal for ‘creepy guy’ that we do at the bars. She touched her ear, and we knew.”

“I told all the Bellas to come home,” Chloe says. “A group text. I sent it right after Amy, Jesse, and I figured it out.”

“Ummmm.” Amy raises her hand, staring hard at Stacie and Cynthia Rose. “Question. How do we know that you guys are you? Like maybe you’re just their clones.”

A very loaded silence falls.

A different kind of knot tightens in Beca’s stomach. She shifts away from Jesse slightly, carefully eyeing Stacie and Cynthia Rose. And, she realizes with a pang, Amy and Chloe might not be themselves. A wave of nausea crashes over her as she realizes she doesn’t know who she can trust.

“We’ll figure that out later,” Chloe says tightly.

“I mean, I’m obviously me,” Jesse says.

Stacie hums. “Unless there’s more than one clone thing.”

Jesse opens his mouth, then closes it, eyebrows drawing together.

“I mean,” Cynthia Rose starts, “Stacie and I have been together all afternoon, and Amy, if you and Chloe have been talking… and I don’t think Clone Amy would run over one of her kind,” she points out.

“I dunno,” Amy says, “could be a clever ruse.”

They all look at her.

“I’m me, but I’m just saying,” she shrugs. “If I were clone me and not me me, it’s what I’d do.”

“Helpful,” Beca mutters.

Chloe looks at Cynthia Rose. “Did you go to campus today?” she asks sharply.

Cynthia Rose blinks. “Uh, no. No classes today.”

Chloe’s lips tighten. “You’re you. I saw your… double, whatever, on campus today.”

“Oh, that’s... horrifying,” Cynthia Rose says, shuddering.

“Okay, look,” Chloe begins. “I think we just have to trust each other at this point. When the others start showing up, we’ll deal with it then. For now, maybe let’s just get inside.”

“What are we going to do with him?” Beca asks, purposely avoiding looking at the Jesse clone still lying on the road. “We can’t just leave him here. Someone’s going to call the cops.”

Chloe bites her lip, thinking.

“Trunk,” Jesse says abruptly, looking at Bumper’s now-dented, windshield-less car. “He’ll fit until we can sort it out.”

“Not it,” Amy says immediately, placing her index finger on the tip of her nose. “Not touching it. Nose goes.”

Jesse rolls his eyes and steps forward. “Just pop the trunk.”

Amy does, and they watch as he picks up the lifeless form with surprisingly little struggle. Beca glances around, making sure no one is peeking out their window or driving by, but the neighborhood is deserted. It doesn’t take long for Jesse to push the body into the trunk and close it.

“Done,” he says grimly, wiping his hands on his jeans. “That was so weird.”

“Right,” Chloe says with authority, clapping her hands together. Beca is reminded forcefully of Aubrey. “Everyone, into the house. We have to make a plan.”

#pitch perfect horror fic #bechloe #bechloe fic #my writing #beca mitchell #jesse swanson #chloe beale #and some clones idk

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k-popscenxrios · 5 years

Text

Didn’t Ask For This Pt 13 (Roommate!JK x OC)

A/N: So we’re getting closer and closer to the end now! I’m still trying to figure out where exactly I’m ending the story so I’m not sure just how many more parts there will be... If I had to guess, there will be 4 more after this one! I hope everyone will stick around for the end of Jungkook and Ari’s story!

Summary: “I didn’t know you hated me so much,” he spoke as he grabbed my wrist and once again turned me around to face him, “and quite honestly, I don’t think I’ve done anything horrible enough for you to hate me to the degree that you do.” “You say that like the hate isn’t mutual,” I remarked as he shook his head. There was a bitter smile on his face as he took a deep breath, “I think you are quite honestly one of the worst human beings I’ve had to come in contact with.”

6.1k words | drama ✞ | fluff ♡

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | Finale

⇨ Masterlist ⇦

The day was off to a good start since my fever was officially gone. I was relieved to say the least, because I really needed to talk to Hoseok tonight. I was going to tell him everything and apologize profusely for wasting so much of his time.

Hopefully it’ll go well, but I wasn’t holding my breath.

Jungkook and I ran into each other as he exited the bathroom and I was about to head to the bathroom. He had a tired expression on his face, his hair haphazardly sticking up in several different places. I couldn’t help but smile as he looked at me with a questioning gaze.

I reached up to fix his hair as he froze in place, almost leaning into my touch the longer I had my fingers in his hair. He closed his eyes and started to lean into my touch. His forehead laid against mine as I felt my heart begin racing. He put on his cologne today...

I looked up at Jungkook to see his eyelids. He still had his eyes closed...

I smiled and moved my forehead from his, tilting my head to get a good angle to press my lips to his. His eyes opened from my forehead’s sudden absence, but when he realized what was going on, he smiled and leaned in to press a kiss to my lips.

“Have you been talking to Hoseok recently?”

Taehyung’s voice sounded from his room as both Jungkook and I jumped. We stepped away from each other as I moved my hands from his hair and spun around to see Taehyung walking out of his room. He just barely missed the very questionable stance we had just been in.

“What’s with the sudden question?” I asked as I felt my nerves spike a little. I didn’t exactly want Jungkook to know that I had spoken to Hoseok. He obviously wants me to reject the guy even as rudely as over text, so I could only imagine his reaction if he realized that I was meeting with Hoseok behind his back.

“I talked to him about you yesterday, so I hoped that he might text you or something to check up on you,” Taehyung frowned as he moved past the two of us and turned into the kitchen. I walked toward the kitchen as Jungkook followed behind me.

His eyes narrowed when I glanced back at him, trying to keep myself calm.

“I didn’t hear from him. I guess he didn’t have as much fun on our date as I thought.” I said the words to try and calm Jungkook down, but his stare didn’t back down even a little bit. I was about to deny anything again, but Jungkook cut me off.

“Bull shit.”

He practically spat the words at me as I noticed Taehyung’s face contorted in surprise. I swallowed and turned to face him, but he already had his mind made up.

“He spoke to you, didn’t he?” Jungkook took a step closer to me as I felt panic rise in my chest. I glanced over at Taehyung who was the picture of confusion.

“I said that he didn’t talk to me,” I simply stated with the calmest voice I could muster. Jungkook’s eyes moved to glance behind me before he swallowed and looked down. He was still really pissed, but at least he wasn’t grilling me for information.

“Hoseok did mention something about you,” Taehyung looked up in thought, his memory becoming my biggest enemy, “Oh yeah! When I brought up that I had texted you but got to reply, he told me that you seemed okay to him.”

“Thank you, Taehyung,” I smiled and closed my eyes, feeling my nerves spike. Jungkook’s gaze was back on mine as I felt like I was boxed in with no escape.

“Okay, I talked to him for a little bit, but it was just for him to check on me,” I didn’t think that my words were going to help my case judging by Jungkook’s increasing annoyance. I wasn’t sure whether to be worried or glad that Taehyung’s present, because I would be getting an earful if he wasn’t.

“Okay, does someone want to tell me what’s going on?” Taehyung took a step closer to me as Jungkook’s eyes finally left me. Since Taehyung hadn’t been able to see Jungkook until just now, he had no reason to hold back on his intense glares. I once more felt relief wash over me that Taehyung was here.

Then again, if Taehyung never popped up in the first place, Hoseok wouldn’t have been brought up in the first place.

“It’s nothing,” Jungkook spoke, but his voice was very strained. Taehyung didn’t seem to notice as Jungkook started walking off into his room. My eyes filled with worry as I watched his tense figure disappear as he stepped into his room, “I have a call to make.”

Taehyung and I were left in silence as I couldn’t help but frown. Call? Who’s he calling? I hope to God he’s not calling Hoseok…

Taehyung turned to me to ask me what had happened, but he stopped short when he saw my face. It was as if he could tell just how stressed and upset I was. After all of that, I didn’t have the will to hide any of my pain.

“Are you okay, Ari?” Taehyung asked as he reached out to touch my shoulder. I tried to relax from his touch, but the touch I truly wanted was from the man currently making a mysterious phone call.

I just nodded his way and tried to muster the best fake smile that I could.

“Never better.”

...

“Taehyung, can I talk to you for a second?” Jungkook spoke as he walked into the living room where Taehyung and I were. Taehyung looked at him with an interested look on his face as he nodded and glanced my way. I held back my urge to look their way as Taehyung stood up and followed Jungkook down the hall.

They stepped into Jungkook’s room for a while as I felt something stir within me. I was dying to know what they were talking about, but I wasn’t going to be nosey like I had been in the past. With the luck I was having today, one of them would catch me in the act.

…

Ten minutes later, the two of them walked out of Jungkook’s room as I felt my nerves spike. What could Jungkook possibly have said to Taehyung? It wasn’t like the two of them never talked to each other in private, but for Jungkook to make a statement like that in my company meant something was up... Especially after the jealous episode he just had.

“I don’t know why you thought I’d be mad,” Taehyung spoke with a shrug as he watched Jungkook slip on his shoes. Where was he about to go?

“I just wanted to talk to you about it is all,” Jungkook spoke as he avoided my eyes. I shamelessly watched him as Taehyung glanced my way. I didn’t filter my curious gaze as I could see the hints of worry in his eyes.

“Have fun,” Taehyung waved as Jungkook started heading for the door.

“Whoa, hold up,” I stood up as Jungkook froze with his hand on the doorknob. “Does anyone wanna tell me where Jungkook’s going?”

“He’s…” Taehyung drew out the word as the tried to think of what to say next. He seemed to panic mid-sentence, but my mind was more focused on Jungkook, “He’s just going out to meet a friend of ours.”

“What friend?” I stood up from the couch as I didn’t fail to notice Jungkook spin around and lean against the back of the door.

“This has nothing to do with you, Ari,” his voice was serious, but I couldn’t take him seriously. He couldn’t be real right now…

I wanted to argue with him, but since Taehyung was right in front of us, I had to hold back. I sure as hell wasn’t letting him just walk out the door.

“What friend?” I continued to press as Jungkook’s intense stare didn’t falter. What’s gotten into him? Is he trying to make me jealous? Surely not… “Jungkook, tell me.”

“Just because you like me doesn’t mean I’m obligated to tell you where I’m going,” he snapped as I flinched.

“Okay, what the hell?” I asked, my voice breaking as I felt my whole body slowly begin to shake. He didn’t have to say that, and he certainly didn’t have to say it that way.

“That’s not cool, man,” Taehyung defended me as Jungkook looked up at the ceiling for a couple seconds. He took a deep breath and nodded before visibly calming down. Taehyung took a step closer to me as I felt a whole bucket of emotions dumping on me. This was one of the only times I can recall Taehyung sticking up for me while Jungkook and I were arguing. “The least you could do is pretend to be nice to her. She confessed after all.”

“Okay, I’m sorry,” Jungkook spoke quickly after Taehyung finished talking. I bit the inside of my cheek as I felt stress building up in my being. I didn’t like the fact that we were still doing this back and forth thing. I thought we could get past this…

Though I wasn’t totally innocent in this situation. I did try to hide the fact that I talked with Hoseok...

“Tell me where you’re going, asshole,” I kept my voice steady as my harsh eyes met his. I stood as close to him as I could with Taehyung standing there watching us. For my next words, I practically whispered them so that Taehyung couldn’t hear them.

“You don’t tell me and I don’t tell Hoseok about us. Looks like a second date is happening,” I crossed my arms across my chest, but Jungkook was good at holding back his reactions. He glanced at Taehyung who was increasingly worried and confused over the two of us.

“Go right ahead,” Jungkook spoke as I felt my entire being freeze in shock. Okay, what? That didn’t make any sense coming out of his mouth! What was all that stuff yesterday and the day before that?

“Jungkook,” I looked down, only to look back up with a softer look than before. I wasn’t mad anymore. I was just scared that Jungkook had lost his mind. What was all of our conversations before now about? And Jungkook has been very clear on his feelings for me… Surely he wasn’t playing some game with me. “What the hell?”

Jungkook looked at the door to get away from my upset gaze. He put his hand on the door knob again and started to open the door. I took a deep breath as I watched him walk out without saying another word.

“I’m sorry, Ari,” I heard Taehyung speak as I just stared at the door. I almost couldn’t believe what had just happened. Did Jungkook really just tell me to schedule another date with Hoseok? After all the arguing we did about him, I was so pissed that he would say something like that to me. I didn’t even care if he said it out of rage or if he said it because Taehyung was within earshot.

Now all I was thinking about was if I was actually going to schedule a second date. I really truly shouldn’t do that to Hoseok… If I thought that this was the end of Jungkook and I, I would probably feel differently. The only reason I would ever consider going on another date with him would be because I’m terrified of turning him down. He’s just such a nice person to be around…

But I would feel like garbage the whole time that I was around Hoseok because I’d consciously be aware of my motives the whole date. I just need to suck it up and get it over with.

“Ari?” Taehyung’s voice brought me out of my thoughts as I looked up into his worried eyes. “Are you okay? I’ve never wanted to smack him more than I did just then.”

I let a small smile appear on my face as I walked over to him and wrapped my arms around his left arm. I snuggled into his side as he looked down at me and ran his free hand up and down my arm.

“If Jungkook and I were somehow… to become a couple,” I started speaking as I felt Taehyung stiffen, “could you learn to be okay with it if it makes me happy?”

He was quiet for several seconds, but I didn’t try to look at him. I took several deep breaths to prepare for what he was going to say, but he never said anything.

He lightly pushed me away to look into my eyes as I felt my nerves spike. His face was blank, devoid of emotion, but his eyes were full of worry. I waited patiently for Taehyung to say something as we both stared the other down.

“You don’t seem very happy to me.”

I blinked a few times as Taehyung’s blank expression morphed into a frown. He put a hand on my arm as he softly caressed it. I tried to let his touch comfort me, but I was too focused on what he said.

“Well obviously not at this current moment,” I spoke softly, my eyes trailing off behind him, “What if Jungkook is only treating me this way because you don’t approve?”

I was trying to subtly put the idea in Taehyung’s head that Jungkook likes me, but he didn’t seem to be buying it.

“So you think all that he is seeking is my approval?” he asked, suddenly gripping my arm. He looked even more upset before, but it was a sympathetic sadness. I nodded in response, but he didn’t seem to like that answer.

“Ari,” he let out a breathy laugh, but it was empty. The slight smile on his face didn’t last long as he took a deep breath, “If Jungkook truly likes you, he would have already tried to talk to me about it.”

I felt my mood shift to become very defensive at his words. I felt myself getting worked up as I tried to not second-guess anything. What Jungkook and I have is real. I don’t want Taehyung feeding other ideas in my head!

“What makes you so sure with that statement?” I felt my voice growing panicked as I tried to calm it down, “You’ve been pretty intimidating and protective of me. He’s probably worried that he’ll lose you as a friend.”

“Ari,” Taehyung called my name again, more pity being laced in his voice. Taehyung needed to stop looking at me like that. Jungkook loves me! I know he does! I felt it that night on the roof. I saw every soft expression on his face, I felt it from every kiss he gave me.

It wasn’t just a hookup that meant nothing. Jungkook loves me, no questions asked!

“If Jungkook liked you in return, he wouldn’t have asked for my permission to meet up with your old friend, Soomin.”

I felt my muscles stiffen as I looked up in Taehyung’s eyes. He was messing with me. “Taehyung, you’re not funny.”

“I’m not being funny,” Taehyung shook his head and looked at the floor so that he didn’t have to look at me. “Why would I lie about something like that when I know it would hurt you?”

“But why would he go meet with her?” I felt my hands shaking, tears building up in my eyes. I couldn’t help but think back to all that Soomin said about wanting to get Jungkook back with her. For all I know, she’s been pestering him constantly and he just never bothered to tell me.

But why the hell would Jungkook actually willingly go and meet with her? Surely he wasn’t trying to hurt me on purpose, even over all this Hoseok drama...

“He told me he wanted to catch up with her,” Taehyung slightly shrugged as I took a deep breath, “I think he’s also going to apologize to her or something? I asked him if he was and he didn’t confirm nor deny it.”

I spun around to get my face out of Taehyung’s view as I felt my lip quiver. I fished in my back pocket for my phone as I shakily opened up Jungkook’s contact in my phone. I hadn’t used it once since he’s been here, but I was relieved that Taehyung had put his number in for me just in case.

“Ari,” Taehyung called as he tried to grab my phone, but I was faster than him. I rushed across the room and pressed the call button, holding my phone to my ear. “Ari, he’s probably just going to forward you to voicemail. He seemed pretty pissed off! Just try to forget about him and maybe talk to Hoseok-”

“Tae,” I sniffed as I wiped away the few tears that had fallen down my cheeks, “I want you to listen to me and listen to me well. I’m in love with Jungkook. I don’t want to try and forget him and move on when there’s a possibility of something there.”

“But what if there isn’t?” Taehyung’s eyes narrowed, but his expression was still filled with worry, “What if he truly doesn’t feel anything for you like that?”

“Then…” I paused as I heard the sound of the call going to voicemail. I felt my breath catch in my throat as I shook my head and started to call him again, “Then I’m the biggest idiot in the world if that truly is the case.”

Taehyung tried to walk over to me and give my any kind of consolation, but I wasn't having it. I walked away from him and started down the hallway towards my room, heartbeat increasing with every ring. Taehyung rushed after me as he spotted me walking into my room, moving to close the door behind me. He moved to block the door from closing as I felt more tears fall from my eyes. None of this was real… This whole morning has just been a bad dream…

“If he really doesn’t feel anything for me-” I took a shaky breath, another tear falling as I heard the automated message for his voicemail again. I tightened my grip on my phone before dropping my hand to my side, allowing Taehyung to push my bedroom door to get a better look at me.

“-He’s possibly the worst human being on this earth.”

Jungkook didn’t come back all afternoon, and by the time for my shift rolled around, I didn’t want to get out of bed. Taehyung and I sat and talked for a while about random things as he tried to get my mind off of Jungkook, but it was only a temporary fix. The moment he left for me to get changed, I was right back into my depressed state of mind.

Once I arrived at work, I felt my mood darken further. I was scheduled to work with Chaeyoung and Jimin, and those two were being very touchy. I wasn’t doing a good job at hiding my jealousy when they weren’t looking, but when Chaeyoung would smile over at me, I’d send her my most convincing fake smile.

I felt my grip tighten on my broom looking at the two of them holding hands. They had toned down the PDA over the past two hours, but even seeing them holding hands put me in a sour mood.

I couldn’t help but remember how right it felt for Jungkook’s hand to be in mine. The day that he angrily dragged me through the halls after catching Chaeyoung and I in the closet came to mind the most. He looked so angry and his grip was so firm, but it was the first time Jungkook truly made my heart skip a beat.

It took about three hours until Chaeyoung finally realized how upset I was.

“Ari,” She grabbed my arm to catch my attention. She had let go of Jimin to rush up to me, and I felt my nerves spike, “Ari, are you okay?”

I took a deep breath as I looked down, not fully ready to tell her everything. How is she going to react to what all Jungkook and I have been through since I last spoke to her? I certainly don’t want her to get so angry that she yells at him or anything…

But I have to tell her something because she knows that something is wrong.

“It’s a long story,” I started, but Chaeyoung wasn’t having it.

“And you have all night to tell it while we’re cleaning theaters,” Chaeyoung stated as she moved ahead of me to stop me from walking, “You’re making me really worried, Ari. This is all because of Jungkook, isn’t it?”

I looked away from her as my breath hitched in my throat. My muscles tensed as my eyes locked on to the eyes of Hoseok. I had completely forgotten about him coming up here. This was not going to go well.

“Oh God,” I spoke as Chaeyoung raised an eyebrow. Instead of looking in the direction of my gaze she continued talking. I felt my panic increase as Hoseok started walking in our direction.

“What did he do this time?” She continued grilling me as I turned my attention back to her. “Did he say something horrible? Do something horrible? Did he yell at you?”

“Chae,” I called as she stopped talking, “We need to put this conversation on hold. I’ll explain everything later.”

“Why later?” she whined, but her question was answered when Hoseok finally became earshot of the two of us.

“Hey Ari. Is now a good time?” he asked as Chaeyoung spun around in surprise. She looked completely shell shocked at his appearance as I moved away from her and nodded. I felt my stomach twist every which way as I moved closer to him. I had no idea how this conversation was going to go.

“I’m gonna take my dinner break now,” I told Chaeyoung as Jimin appeared next to her. She just nodded with dumbfounded look on her face. I was not looking forward to telling her this story…

…

Hoseok and I sat in his car in silence as I looked out the window nervously. The only noise in the air was the whir of the air conditioning blowing in our faces. The parking lot was fairly empty looking despite how many people were going to the movies tonight.

“I don’t know how I’m going to talk about this,” I spoke with complete honesty. Hoseok looked at me and leaned against his door, turning his body to me.

“That doesn’t sound like this is going to be a good conversation,” he observed as I let a bittersweet smile appear on my face. Despite how horrible I felt, he still managed to make me smile…

“I wish I could make this a good conversation, but no matter how I look at it…” I paused and looked down at my hands that were holding each other, “this isn’t going to go well.”

“Well, hit me with your worst,” Hoseok spoke, nodding for me to go ahead, “You’ve built up the anticipation, so this better be all that you’ve made it out to be.”

I smiled once again, amused with his wording. He was being so… cool about my vagueness. He knew that I was about to reject him, yet he still had a smile adorning his face.

“I’ve had a lot of fun with you every time I’ve been around you,” I spoke as his expression didn’t shift even a little, “Our date the other night was the best date I’ve been on. Well, let me rephrase that. It’s the most fun I’ve had with a friend in a long time.”

Hoseok’s eyes softened as I let out a little broken laugh, “Our date is the only date I’ve been on, so saying it was the best date wouldn’t mean much.”

“I’m flattered, really,” Hoseok nodded, saying no more as he let me continue.

“I look at you and I see… quite honestly one of the most perfect men I’ve ever come in contact with,” I paused as I saw a smile spreading across his face, “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted in a man plus more…”

It was silent for a couple seconds as I continued to gather my thoughts.

“But?” Hoseok leaned forward a little as he re-adjusted his position to make himself more comfortable.

“But…” I nodded, looking back down at my lap. My nerves weren’t getting too out of hand, and I could only assume it was because of how calming Hoseok was. He patiently waited for me to continue as I tried to muster up the courage to admit it to him. It was a very intimidating thought, but when I looked his way again, everything seemed to fall into place.

“I’m in love with Jungkook.”

I was startled by my own words despite having said them many times before. I had only intended to start off telling him that I was in love with someone else, slowly easing into telling him that Jungkook was that ‘someone else’.

Hoseok’s eyebrows raised at my sudden confession, and I felt my heart breaking at the slight look of hurt in his eyes. It was masked quickly as Hoseok let out a sigh, looking up at the ceiling of his car.

“I didn’t see that coming to be honest,” he shook his head, the smile slowly fading away. I kept playing Hoseok’s hurt expression over and over in my head, growing sick over the thought. That’s exactly what I was worried about… That look right there was the last thing that I wanted to see on him.

And the fact that he was hiding it very well made me paranoid for all the other emotions he could be hiding from me… I could feel my body becoming more tense, and Hoseok seemed to notice that I’d gotten more on edge since I let that secret slip.

“I’m sorry,” I spoke, shaking my head in shame. I closed my eyes and put my face in my hands for a couple seconds, “I didn’t mean to be that blunt.”

“No,” Hoseok grabbed one of my arms and pulled it away from my face. I looked intently in his eyes, my worried ones searching his for any more hidden emotions. “It’s okay. I’m guessing that Taehyung doesn’t know…”

I shook my head, “He actually does know. He just doesn’t like the idea of Jungkook and I…”

Hoseok nodded as I looked down again.

“Don’t tell him any of what I’m about to tell you, please,” I said, feeling his soft eyes watching me, “I want to be the person to tell him. I don’t want him to hear it from anyone else.”

Hoseok held up his hands as if to show him surrendering, “You have my word.”

I sat in silence as my mind flashed to the man in question. All day, every time I thought about Jungkook, I’d feel stinging in my heart. All I had been reflecting on was all the negative events that had happened a few short hours ago.

But in this moment, all of our good memories were flooding to me. I memorized every kiss and every caress, chills running through me at the thought of his touch. I recalled the smell of his cologne and how heavenly it smells to me. I smiled at all the times Jungkook had broken his tough manly exterior to give me a look of concern. Soft Jungkook made me want to grab him and never let him go…

I felt the words flowing naturally out of my mouth as I began explaining everything to Hoseok. I started with how much we use to hate each other. I moved on to explain how we grew closer despite not wanting to, and the closer we got, the more I fell in love.

I spilled my heart out to the man in front of me, coming up to the events that happened right after our date. I debated whether or not to disclose the rest of this information since I was so worried about hurting him, but he had seemed fine throughout the night.

I decided to continue on with my words as Hoseok seemed to slightly stiffen at my confession. His look of hurt made me stop my explanation as I started to apologize yet again.

“No, It’s okay,” he shook his head, “I mean, of course it makes me sad, but I just really liked you. I’m not going to hold anything against you. Please finish your story because I can tell there’s more to it.”

I was reluctant to continue, but Hoseok had talked me into finishing the story. I didn’t filter anything out at I mentioned everything. He knew about the soft words only to turn into harsh arguments. I even told him about Jungkook’s insane jealousy problem, ending with informing him that Jungkook doesn’t know that the two of us were meeting tonight.

Hoseok wasn’t surprised in the slightest hearing about Jungkook’s jealousy. The two did used to be kinda close in high school, so I guess he already knew Jungkook was the jealous type.

“I j-just…” I stuttered, feeling so many different emotions overwhelm me, “I can’t apologize enough for how much of your time that I’ve wasted…”

Hoseok just shook his head, sending me a selflessly soft smile. Despite all the things I had told him and all of his feelings that I stomped all over, he was smiling at me. It was comforting at first, but after having finished telling him everything, I just felt wrong. I felt like such a horrible person, and I had no one to blame but myself.

“Every part of your life happens for a reason,” Hoseok spoke, breaking myself out of my sad thoughts. I tried to nod to agree with him, but I found my body staying still.

“Do you think that Jungkook is in my life to stay here?” I looked down at my lap as my own words crashed into me like a wave of negativity. For the umpteenth time, I was crying over Jungkook again. “Or do you think that this summer, the time I’ve spent with him, was all just so I know what it’s like to be in love?”

I blinked away the tears as the silence in the car was deafening. It wasn’t a very fair question to ask him, but I couldn’t help it. Hoseok is the only person outside of Jungkook and I that knows the full story behind us.

“Ari,” Hoseok called, drawing my attention to him as I heard his voice quivering as well. I felt worry fill my whole being as I noticed his eyes were growing red. Oh no. Oh God no. Hoseok was crying now? All because of me?!

“I’ve known Jungkook a long time. Sure, we’re not super close or anything, but I’ve seen him go through some relationships,” I felt my heart tear into a million pieces as a tear slipped from his eye. He was quick to wipe it as I felt my supply of tears re-enforcing. “I saw him go through small uses like him breaking off a fling, all the way to him being devastated over a break up. He really tries to keep you from thinking about it, but the kid has a heart, too. He might have possibly one of the most breakable hearts out there.”

I looked down to wipe more tears away before looking back up to Hoseok. My hand reached out to grab his to try and comfort him. He looked down at our hands in surprise as I gave him a reassuring squeeze.

“Jungkook’s heart being fragile?” I almost laughed at how unreal it sounded, “He acts like his heart is made of stone or something.”

“I know,” Hoseok laughed through his tears that seemed to be coming to a slow stop. He looked out his door’s window as I just watched him. “It sounds strange. To my understanding, the kid got hurt in the past and has tried to block his heart out. He laughed in the face of love and anyone that tried it on him. I thought he was just being a moody teen when he became so cold in high school, but to know that he’s still trying to do that to this day has me pitying him even more.”

I felt myself choke up as I felt my brain recollecting everything between the two of us. I recalled every argument from the day he walked in to present time. There had always been something I would see in his eyes when we would go from bantering to yelling. He hid it so well that I barely noticed it, but the look was there. I never understood what it was or what it meant, but thinking back on it, I realize what those looks were. Those were the real, raw Jungkook slipping through for me to see.

Ever since the night on the roof, Jungkook’s been a whole mess of emotions. He would go from the sweetest man alive to the most hurtful person every few hours, and I think I started figuring it out. He knows he’s in love with me, but he can’t help but be terrified that I’m going to hurt him like girls in his past. So every time he gets the least bit hurt, he blows everything out of proportion to try and save himself.

“H-he…” I swallowed, sniffing to try and clear up my nose, “He met up with my old friend, Soomin, today.”

Hoseok glanced over at me in surprise, wiping away the last of his tears. He seemed to have calmed down, and I wished I could calm down, too. “This is the girl who’s high school life he ruined, right?”

I nodded before continuing, “She told me that she wasn’t going to forget him and she wanted to actually date him. You know, the same day Jungkook and I first kissed.”

Hoseok nodded, remembering what I had told him a little bit ago.

“So for him to go and meet with her out of the blue just because he’s mad at me…” I looked out the window to try and calm down as Hoseok patiently waited for me to continue, “I can’t help but feel betrayed. It’s not my fault that I’m a decent human being and wanted to explain everything to you in person.”

“You did the right thing,” Hoseok reassured, “Jungkook is just too blinded by jealousy to think about how other people might feel. You just need to talk to him about all of this. Not only that, but you really need to talk to Taehyung, too. Sure, he’s really protective of you, but he’s your brother. He wants you to be happy, even if that means that you end up with his best friend.”

I took a deep breath hearing Hoseok’s words. If Hoseok had told me this yesterday, I’m not sure that I would agree with him…

But witnessing what I did today with how soft Taehyung was with me… maybe Hoseok’s right. I’ve been so concerned with Taehyung and how he’ll take Jungkook and I being together, but he’s my brother. He may not be happy with us at first, but he’s never been a person to hold a grudge for too long. If that were the case, he and Jungkook would not be friends for as long as they have.

“You’re right,” I felt my tears drying up the more I thought about it all, “I can’t believe that it took you telling me for me to realize that.”

Hoseok just sent me a soft smile as we sat in a comfortable silence for several seconds. I glanced at the time on my phone for a second, but my eyes caught sight of something else.

I had received a call from Jungkook.

I took a deep breath and realized that he called only two minutes ago. I guess I forgot to turn my ringer back on when I went on my break.

I looked up to Hoseok to tell him that I really needed to go, but he spoke before I could.

“You should probably call him back,” Hoseok nodded as I swallowed and nodded in agreement.

“I’m sorry I have to go,” I frowned, but Hoseok just waved me off.

“It’s fine.” he smiled and watched me as I opened the door to step out of his car, “If it’s not too awkward for you, I would love to at least be friends. I won’t try and make any moves on your or anything.”

I smiled and let a soft laugh out of my nose. This is exactly how I wanted this night to go, and I felt euphoric over the fact that something went right for once.

“I would love that.”

A/N: Sorry to cut it off before the phone call, but this was the best cut off I could give. I hope you enjoyed this part!! Finally Hoseok knows the truth, so all we have left is Taehyung~

Thanks for reading!

⇨ Masterlist ⇦

#jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook fanfic #Jungkook Fanfiction #jeon jungkook #bts #bts fluff #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bangtan #jungkook smut #bangtan fanfic #taehyung #taehyung fanfic #hoseok #hoseok fanfic #hoseok fluff

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thethespacecoyote · 5 years

Text

I have to work out every random kink I have with Kylux, so lets start with shotgunning!

“I thought you said you would quit, Hux.”

The emperor starts, though any minute motion remains hidden under the voluminous cover of his robes. He manages to keep the tapered end of the long cigarette holder clasped between his fingers, not losing the glowing red ash at the tip down below the balcony that looks out over the vast parade grounds. It’s a gift he purchased for himself—Chammian ivory, wreathed in the middle with ornate metal—upon the giddy realization of his life’s goal, though tonight is the first time he’s used it.

Hux realizes it would be bad for his image if the public ever saw him smoking, witnessed the vices of their new emperor. Hux wants to exude an air as close as godliness as possible, as to terminate all stirrings of rebellion in their infancy. Not one of cruelty, necessarily, but rather of indomitable power, so he will never be forced to bow to anyone else ever again.

But he’s been itching for a smoke lately. Even with the Resistance crushed and his reign mostly clinched, he feels his stress has mounted, though it’s difficult to uncover the source. In reality, he probably has less work now than he had as a general, but he feels more precarious, more in need of something to take the edge off. And indeed, there’s something relaxing about watching the pale smoke that drifts between his lips, curling up into the air before disappearing into the midnight blue of the sky above.

However, any calm he’s lulled himself into has now been broken by Kylo Ren. Hux sighs, turning away from the balcony to look over at the knight, watching Ren’s booted feet as he walks across the balcony towards him.

“You’ve intruded into my quarters,” Hux states, not bothering to hide the annoyance in his voice but without the strength to keep Ren at bay. He braces one hand back against the banister, straightening his posture as the other man stops, the space between them just barely above acceptable.

“I haven’t seen you smoke in so long,” Ren folds his arms over his chest, eyebrows furrowed. “I’d hoped you’d stick to your word.”

Hux frowns sourly at at the obvious disapproval in Ren’s voice. Really? The belligerent, delusional Force-user is going to lecture him now? Now that Hux is emperor?

Absurd.

It isn’t that Hux doesn’t remember the last time Ren had caught him smoking—alone in his office, collar to his uniform opened, bags reddened and heavy under his eyes—but he thought it’d been a one-off comment, something to say to interrupt the uneasy silence between them as Ren had born witness to the general’s most erratic, vulnerable state.

Hux rolls the cigarette holder between his fingertips, feeling the florid patterns, detailed in gold, along the shaft.

“One measly little smoke won’t kill me, Ren.” Hux purses his lips, taking a brief inhale of his cigarette and blowing a mouthful of smoke in the other man’s direction. “I think after all I’ve been through, I’ve earned it.”

Ren wrinkles his nose, unfurling one hand to pointedly wave away the air in front of him. Hux just barely resists the urge to roll his eyes.

“Is this the reason you’ve violated my privacy? Did you use your Force to sense what I was doing, and decided to valiantly step in and stop me from poisoning myself?” Hux chides, sweeping his other arm outwards. “And after this, surely you’ll haunt those reveling in my coronation, reminding them not to partake of too many sweets, yes?”

“Don’t be hyperbolic.”

Hux snorts.

“With you, Ren, I’m not sure there’s such thing.”

“You’re emperor now,” Ren presses, daring to breach the respectable space between them. “If you want your rule to be long and fruitful, you will have to learn to take better care of yourself.”

Hux stiffens, the casual disdain in his eyes sharpening into more of a glare. He has never been healthy, not since he was a boy. It’s almost inevitable that his body will fail him long before his mind does, and Ren need not remind him of his own shortcomings. After all, what’s the purpose? Ren is the one who’s thrown his allegiance in beside him, and if he wishes to undermine Hux he’s going to have to go for stronger stuff than a couple snide comments about his health.

“I don’t need you to police my vices. Stars above, Ren, you’ve been giving the title of Enforcer, not Imperial Nursemaid.”

Ren’s being quite presumptive, and it irks him. Hux doesn’t need to be told what to do, like a rebellious child. Half of him considers impudently flicking the ash of his cigarette on Ren’s boots and disregard him entirely. Instead, to hammer home just how much he doesn’t care for the knight’s nagging, he looks Ren square in the eyes and brings the cigarette holder to his lips, inhaling the spice smoke as deeply as he can muster. He purses his lips, holding the smoke in his throat for a moment, feeling it burn as his face practically glows in a smirk.

Hux doesn’t expect Ren to suddenly move in so close, but before the emperor can react he’s crowded him against the banister. Hux’s mind conjures up a quick reprimand, but before he can bring it to life, Ren leans in and with a little clumsiness, presses their lips together.

It’s been so long since they’ve kissed. Their encounters were few and furtive aboard the Finalizer, any physical pleasures stolen in the security of either of their quarters, concealed due to fear of both others and themselves. Neither have spoken on the precise nature of their relationship, not since the war’s upswing crawled into its inevitable denouement, not since Hux has found himself seated at the top of a new galactic empire, bolstered on the shoulders of a man he never thought would want anything but his death.

And now that man is kissing him, on the balcony of his new palace, clad in inky black robes that Hux must admit contrast poetically with his own deceitful white—forever tailored as his shadow, dealing death to his enemies in his stead and proving the strength of his reign to the galaxy. Seeping in around him as effortlessly as the fluid night, filling in those gaps Hux has never found the courage to patch over himself.

Hux exhales in surprise as Ren parts his lips, inadvertently filling the channel between their mouths with retained smoke. Miraculously he doesn’t choke, merely breathes as he lets Kylo shift the air, the fire from Hux’s lungs into his own. The emperor lets his eyelids flutter half-closed, suddenly lazy from the smoke and the motion of Ren’s lips against his own. Wanting to drink from the stained lips and parched tongue, to partake of Hux despite the innumerable flaws that mar him, even as the god-emperor of the extant galaxy. It’s strange—despite his earlier objection, Ren still willingly shares the poison inside of Hux, lifting the weight from his body, the ashy film plastered to the pinkest, most vulnerable pleura in his being.

Hux’s fingers grow slack, and the cigarette holder falls from his hand, tinkling against the balcony. He reaches over Ren shoulder, enveloping his now free grasp in the sable curls of his hair. This close, Hux can even smell him—a comforting musk, far more appealing than the acrid scent of smoke.

Finally, their lips part, just when Hux feels like his lungs might burst. He gasps, eyes falling back completely open, now watering slightly at the edges. He feels a little light-headed, but as his hand lifts to hold onto Kylo’s cape, he reaches out to grasp Hux’s wrist, strength flexing through his fingers. They’re so close, close enough that he should protest as he feels his lower back dig into the banister behind him.

“Every time you think you need to smoke,” Kylo exhales, wispy tendrils curling up from the corners of his mouth to make him look like some ancient, mystical presence, or a statue burning incense, “we will do this instead, until you no longer need it.”

Hux almost thinks to reprimand Ren, for presuming he would agree to his proposal following a single kiss. But his lips still tingle from the brush with Ren’s warmth, and his cigarette already lays dashed and extinguished against the ground. He’s craving something, to cradle close and catch between his teeth, and if his dear knight is offering, who is Hux to refuse?

“It may be difficult to completely break a habit,” Hux murmurs, admiring how long Ren’s hair has grown since last he’s drifted his fingers through it, “are you certain you’re up to the task?”

He doesn’t flinch, not when Ren leans in to rest their foreheads together, still smelling intense and animalic beneath the pall of smoke as it gradually vanishes into the cool night air.

“I think I can handle it, my emperor,” Ren says, and dips to kiss Hux once again.

#spacetext #kylux #fanfic #shotgunning kink #smoking #kylo 'smokings bad mmkay' ren #sw #emperor hux

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camilahq · 4 years

Text

time to talk

TAGGING: KJ @itskjapa, Cami.

LOCATION: Vancouver, BC.

TIMEFRAME: March 15th, 2020

NOTES: Camila and KJ discuss the events of the weekend and establish that they want to be together, but without labels for now.

Cami: Sunday had been miserable. Madelaine had come over with Olive to serve as a distraction to Cami, but her thoughts had never left KJ. Once Mads had left for the night, she'd hardly slept, tossing and turning most of the night. She'd taken a bath at some early morning hour, trying to clear her thoughts and help herself sleep. It had worked, but only for a few hours and by the time 8 o'clock rolled around she couldn't lay in bed any longer. Camila didn't even care to change out of his sweatshirt she had tried to fall asleep in or her black leggings. Pulling her hair up into a ponytail and washing her face, but leaving it free of any makeup, she picked up Truffle and left the apartment complex for coffee. Standing in front of his apartment door now, back inside their complex, she could hardly muster the courage to knock. Truffle was at her feet and she held a drink carrier with a cup of black coffee for him and her usual almond milk latte in her one hand while she raised her other hand to knock at his door. She knew that her eyes still looked slightly red from crying, but she didn't care about any of that right now. All she cared about was KJ.

KJ: Life had a very nasty sense of humor. KJ had felt on top of the world after his date with Camila -- as if for the first time in a very long time, everything had fallen into place. Holding themselves back from any serious conversation the previous weeks, this moment between them had been the complete opposite. There had been minimal physical interaction and the emotional part of their relationship had emerged in a way that had given him hope for something more. Something real. Until it all came crashing down with a handful of texts exchanged that had left the redhead lost and confused regarding the situation. There was an issue he couldn’t pinpoint and Camila had not been eager to help him in the slightest. They needed to talk and any guy on this Earth knew exactly what that led to. Perhaps his feelings were not reciprocated after all. With the same shirt and boxers he had worn the day before, tired features and tousled hair, KJ made his way to the door. Feet dragging on the floor a clear sign he was dreading the moment that would come. There was no word uttered when he finally opened the door; instead, he leaned back against the wall and waited until she would cross the threshold. Avoiding her gaze altogether.

Cami: At the sight of his tired features and tousled hair, Cami almost burst into tears. They both looked about the same and she knew it was all her fault. The silence was deafening as she crossed the threshold into his apartment, Truffle running ahead of her to claim her usual spot on his couch. "I brought coffee," she whispered, barely able to find her voice while trying to keep her tears at bay. Setting the drink carrier on his kitchen counter, the same counter where they had taken those first steps in blurring the lines between friendship and something more, she picked up her latte, taking a sip. Camila knew that she was ignoring the elephant in the room, but she just couldn't find the strength just yet. After a few sips of coffee, she'd be ready to rip off the bandaid, she just wished he would look at her.

KJ: He barely nodded when she mentioned bringing coffee, following her inside the apartment but keeping his distance. KJ knew his actions or lack of thereof were perhaps exaggerated -- though fear was gripping him, anxious that whatever they had been partaking in would end as abruptly as it had started. And perhaps if he kept quiet, it would delay the inevitable. Give him enough time to bask in her presence in an intimate setting for the very last time. Even if nothing about this moment was romantic in the slightest. Reaching for the coffee, the redhead brought it up to his lips and allowed the liquid to glide down his throat. A brief but welcoming warmth that invaded his being. He leaned against the kitchen island and ran a hand through his hair -- trying his best to tame the wild strands and a clear sign regarding how nervous he was. Waiting for the moment when she would finally break the silence and his heart.

Cami: The silence was killing her as he sipped his coffee. She watched him lean against the kitchen island, running his fingers through his hair. “Kaje,” she started, looking at him nervously. Camila wanted to reach out for him, but she knew that she shouldn’t. He was upset and she didn’t want to overstep. “Last night, Jordan came over because he was in town and he wanted to see me,” she continued, biting her lip. “He told me that he had feelings for me,” she trailed off, looking away from him. “It completely took me by surprise, I didn’t really know what to say, so I ran off to my bedroom and he left.” Camila was pacing the kitchen now. “I just needed some time to let it all sink in, I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you sooner.”

KJ: The way she said his name pulled him out of the trance he had been in. And he straightened his form against the furniture, brown eyes intently fixed on the cup he was holding -- feeling as if time was his worst enemy. Until Camila finally explained herself. Jordan’s name elicited a quiet chuckle devoid of any humor and he shook his head; mostly at himself. KJ had seen this coming from miles away, though she had found his reaction ridiculous back then. As if the idea of something more with him was laughable. And yet, he was the sole reason she had pushed him away in the first place the previous day. Surely caught up in old feelings she had forgotten about, thinking they weren’t reciprocated. Just like he had felt the past four years by her side. Which made him the footnote in the grand story they had started. His jaw clenched tightly and he willed himself to speak for the first time since she had stepped inside his apartment. “If you’re gonna do this-- do it fast,” he uttered with a lump in his throat.

Cami: Hearing him scoff annoyed her, but she didn't show any trace of annoyance toward him. Camila watched as his jaw clenched tightly and then she heard his voice for the first time. "Do wha-?" she started, looking at him confused before she realized what he was insinuating. "Kaje... I told Jordan I didn't feel the same way. There's a chance I did feel something for him a couple of months ago, but you've been the only guy on my mind for weeks," she started up again, putting down her cup of coffee and moving to stand right in front of him. She reached out to cup his cheek in her hand. "It broke my heart to hurt Jordan because he's my friend, but you're the one I want to be with," she whispered that last part, tears falling from her eyes as she looked at him with all of the love she could muster. "I'm good with us still just having fun and going on dates, we don't have to put anything in writing right now, but you never have to worry about me falling for someone else." Camila had both of her hands cupping his face now, she knew that she probably looked a complete mess but she didn't care. "I fell for you, Keneti James, hard- like right on my ass," she chuckled, tears still in her eyes. "You're the only person I can see myself being with."

KJ: Brows furrowed in confusion as she spoke once more, KJ didn’t dare move from his spot. The last-minute had been a rollercoaster of emotions he wasn’t sure how to handle. From believing Camila was ending their relationship, to her announcing the complete opposite. It all felt so surreal that his attention was still entirely focused on the cup of coffee currently in his hold as his brain tried to make sense of all the contradictory information it was filled with. The touch of her hand on his cheek was what finally made him move -- his eyes flickering upward and meeting her own. Witnessing the tears rolling down her cheeks while he pondered if the words still falling from her lips were not a figment of his imagination. This was more than he had imagined he would ever hear her say. And the heart pounding in his chest was ready to burst. “Shh, it’s okay,” he whispered, disregarding the coffee behind him and allowing his thumbs to wipe away the tears. His own gaze being overcome with emotions at the sight. “I’m so sorry-- I really thought... I mean, I shouldn’t have...” The redhead had a hard time finishing his sentences and decided to draw her in his arms for a tight hug, burying his head in the crook of her neck. “I was so scared I had lost you. I want this for us so much. And we’ll take it at the pace you want.” he murmured against her skin, peppering it with kisses as he breathed her in. Simple gestures he had believed he’d never get the chance to experience again.

Cami: Once he looked into her eyes she completely melted as he shushed her and whispered that it would be okay, of course, like always, the tables had turned and he was now comforting her. She blushed as he wiped her tears away and frowned slightly as he apologized. "Kaje, you've got nothing to apologize for, it's okay if you had a few moments of doubt, I'm not upset with you," she whispered, burying her face into his chest as he wrapped her up in a tight hug. It was exactly what she needed right now. She smiled at his words, her face still buried in his shirt, breathing in his familiar scent. "You're never going to lose me," she whispered, relaxing even more into his arms as he peppered her skin with kisses. The gesture causing her to hum against him. "I'm sorry I'm such a weepy, snotty mess," she giggled, pulling away from his chest so she could really look at him. "I don't look too hot," she added with a smirk. "But, I want this so much for us too, I just don't think we need to label anything right away. We just have this unspoken agreement that I'm yours and you're mine."

KJ: A light snort escaped him as she pulled away and mentioned her appearance. His brown eyes taking in her tears stained features with adoration. It hurt to know he was partially responsible for the pain she had gone through -- even if only briefly over some kind of miscommunication. KJ promised himself at that moment to never assume anything regarding her feelings and the things she might have shared with other people. Such futile doubts were not worth the tears he had witnessed falling upon her cheeks. “You’re mine,” he repeated in a quiet voice, letting the words roll off his tongue and appreciating the way it filled his ears. Just like the things she had uttered previously, it seemed like a dream. Something he had once pondered on knowing it would never come true. And yet, life had, in the end, decided to not be as cruel. At least for the time being. “Mine,” he said again, this time firmly as a wide smile crossed his lips before he drew her against him for another tight hug. “I’m yours and you’re mine. That sounds like a good plan to me, aye.”

Cami: He wasn’t saying it, but Camila knew he still was feeling bad about being part of the reason for her tears. She wished he wouldn’t do that, feel bad about things out of his control, but she knew it was in his nature. KJ was one of the most sympathetic people she’d ever met. As his gaze situated on her, she couldn’t help but smile. It felt like a huge weight was lifted off her chest after she had said all that she had wanted to say. Now as he was repeating the sentiment she couldn’t help but blush. “All yours,” she added with a grin. She chuckled as he repeated it again, pulling her against him for another hug. “Sounds like a perfect plan,” she whispered into his chest just as her stomach grumbled slightly. “Can we make some breakfast?” she asked, looking up at him with a smile. “Despite being a terrible cook, I can actually make eggs,” she said with a smirk, holding his hand in hers as she dragged him towards the fridge, not wanting to be away from him for too long after the horrible 24 hours she had spent away from him the day before.

KJ: The thick tension between them had finally dissipated to leave a place to their usual banter -- KJ snorted in disbelief at her words, although the expression plastered on his features was one of amusement. “You know how to make eggs?” he inquired in a teasing tone, allowing her to pull him along as she made her way to the fridge. More than ready to put aside for the time being whatever else they needed to discuss regarding that dreadful weekend. Right now all he wanted was to focus on them and make up for his stupidity over the whole thing. Many hours wasted with negative thoughts. “I reckon that’s surely quite the sight. Show me your skills, Mendes.” Taking place on a stool, the redhead kept his gaze on Camila -- the coffee was long forgotten and her simple presence enough to brighten what was supposed to be a gloomy day. The world was still in a crisis around them, but having her by his side made him feel like he could take on everything coming his way. Teeth dragging along his bottom lip, he tilted his head to get a better look at what she was doing. “Maybe you should cook breakfast for me every day. Depending on how good those eggs are going to be, aye. Try not to send us to the hospital.”

Cami: She knew they had more to discuss from their dreadful weekend, but for now she was hungry and she couldn’t have another deep talk on an empty stomach. “Yes, is that so hard to believe?” she asked with a raised eyebrow. “Watch and learn,” she teased, grabbing the eggs, milk, and cheese from the fridge. Rolling her eyes at his next comment, she turned to glare at him in a teasing way. “I’d love nothing more than to cook breakfast for you every day - but only if you cook me dinner,” she replied with a smirk. “We won’t end up in the hospital, drama queen,” she added, lightly smacking his chest before she returned to her task. Camila pulled out a bowl, cracking eggs into the bowl and adding milk to the mixture before she poured it into the pan on the stove. Mixing the eggs together, she added cheese before taking the eggs out of the pan so that it would melt. Turning off the stove, Cami got bread and made toast and then she went back into the fridge to find some fruit, cutting it up and putting it on their plates. Adding the eggs and toast after. “Breakfast is served,” she exclaimed, looking at KJ with a twinkle in her eye. She took their plates to his table, shaking her hips as she walked.

KJ: The smile that had appeared on his face earlier was still etched on his features and it was nearly impossible to get rid of it. His entire being felt so light and content now, so far from the sadness it had been submerged with -- all KJ wanted was to bask in her wonderful self and strictly focus on the two of them. Just simply be themselves. “We might be able to find a compromise. Just means you’ll have to be around heaps.” The thought of sharing their mornings and evenings whenever they were able to didn’t sound like a bad idea from his point of view. Especially now that they had cleared up the air regarding what they wanted out of this relationship. But they needed to take their time and the less pressure they had, the better things would be in the end. Following suit when Camila made her way to the living room, his eyes trailed down to her backside, fixated on the motions of her hips. “Tease,” he mumbled under his breath, giving her a playful slap on her cheeks before sitting down on the chair she was going to get for herself. Instead, he patted his lap with a bright grin, inviting her to take place on him. “Someone’s gotta make up for yesterday-- leaving me on my own without anyone to watch Netflix with. Sounds like a good start right here.”

Cami: Now that the tension was mostly gone from the room, Camila felt like she could breathe again. "I'd love nothing more than to be around heaps," she said with a smile. They'd been spending plenty of time with each other anyway so it just made sense to spend most of their time together right now. Camila could feel his eyes on her as she walked, swaying her hips. "Takes one to know one," she whispered, shrieking as he playfully slapped her ass. "Hey!" she exclaimed as he took her chair, but her outburst turned into a fit of giggles as he invited her to sit on his lap. "How are we both going to eat if I'm on your lap?" she questioned, turning to look at him. "I agree this does feel like a good start," she stated with a smile. "I am really sorry about yesterday," she whispered, not wanting to get too sad again. "I'll give you all of the Netflix and cuddles tonight, baby."

KJ mobile: With a swift tug on her arm, KJ pulled her on his lap and snaked one of his arms around her waist to keep her close — his free hand reaching for the fork. “It’s called teamwork, Mendes. I feed you and you feed me,” he answered while holding the utensil up to her mouth so she could have the first taste of the cooked eggs. His grin faltered as Camila mentioned the previous day; the thought of it too depressing to focus on. This was a new day and a new beginning for them. “It’s okay, Cami. I’m not that innocent either. Though, let’s leave this where it is for now. I would like for us to spend the most chill day we’ve ever had, aye. Together.” The redhead dropped a brief kiss on her cheek and directed his gaze back onto the plate. The eggs looked wonderful and he was certain the rest of it too. Although, it didn’t mean he couldn’t tease her about it. “Gimme a taste.“ The innuendo seeped through the words uttered as he squeezed her side playfully and he opened his mouth, waiting for the food she had prepared.

Cami: Squealing as KJ tugged on her arm to pull her into his lap, she grinned as his arm snaked around her waist. "We're feeding each other now? Isn't that so romantic," she whispered, moving her head forward to take a bit off of the fork he offered to her. "Yum," she hummed in response to the taste, satisfied that she'd done a good job. Camila noticed his grin falter and her hand came up to cup his cheek. "I'm happy to leave it where it is, I'd love nothing more than to spend a very chill day with you, Keneti," she replied, blushing as he kissed her cheek. "The last time we were here, I was giving you a taste of something much different," she teased back, putting some eggs on the fork in her hand and feeding them to him. "How's that, baby?" she asked, looking at him with pleading eyes, waiting for a response. She couldn't remember a time in her life when she had ever been this happy, at least not recently. KJ had turned her whole world upside down in the last couple of weeks and she was going to be forever grateful to him for that. He was truly the sweetest man she had ever met and she felt so incredibly lucky to be cared for by him.

KJ: At the mention of their tryst in that very same room when everything had gotten out of control in such an unexpected way, KJ couldn’t help but laugh -- a light blush creeping up his cheeks. It was always so easy to be bold when she was involved. Though, he still couldn’t believe they had been such heathens in the first place. Never in a million years had he ever pondered on the possibility of doing those things for the very first time in his kitchen. “Nothing’s gonna be able to beat that,” he replied with a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth, wiggling his eyebrows as Camila turned sideways to feed him. It was no secret that most meals in her apartment were frozen or takeout. So it was carefully that the redhead took the bite she offered, only to be very surprised by the texture of the eggs. And unable to conceal it on his features. “That’s very good.” he hummed in appreciation, nodding his head as he swallowed the food. “I’m impressed. Like-- I didn’t know you could actually do something in the kitchen. Especially not after the pasta mess, aye.” Another laugh tumbled out of his mouth just as he buried his head in the crook of her neck; hiding from any kind of retaliation from his teasing. “Those are the only eggs I wanna eat from now on.”

Cami: Noticing the blush creeping on his cheeks, Camila leaned forward to place a kiss to them. She giggled as he wiggled in eyebrows in response to her turning to feed him. Camila noticed how he carefully took the bite that she offered, smacking him playfully in fake offense. "Don't act so surprised, I'm not completely helpless," she exclaimed. "There are lots of things I can do in the kitchen," she teased, wiggling her own eyebrows at the redhead. At the feeling of his face in her neck, she moved her free hand to the nape of his own, tugging at his hair. "I know we're having a cute and cuddly moment right now, but I just want you to kiss me- like a knock the air out of my lungs kiss," she whispered, tugging on his hair so he would look at her. She wasn't asking for anything more, just a kiss. They at least deserved that after all of the confusion and sadness.

KJ: At her request, KJ looked up from the place where his head had found refuge, his gaze immediately meeting her own. For two people who had been so physical in the first place, it was rather surprising their lips had yet to touch. The emotions from the previous day and the misunderstanding had led them to focus on simple gestures along with the need to be close to one another. Though now that Camila had voiced aloud what she wanted from him, there was strictly nothing else on his mind. His brown eyes trailed down to her mouth as he slowly moved forward -- tentatively moving his bottom lip against her upper one, her warm breath invading his senses. She wanted a kiss that would knock the air out of her lungs and he was more than ready to deliver. The anticipation only adding intensity to the already charged moment. Just as softly, their mouths finally met in endless brushes that were savored as if for the very first time. His hands finding a place on her back and drawing her closer. Allowing the pace to gradually pick up until his tongue darted out and sought entrance.

Cami: When he looked into her eyes, she melted. Dark brown eyes staring back into her own, making her smile so big. She could've just stared at him forever, memorizing every feature of his beautiful face. Camila didn't want to cross the line into anything too sexual today, they'd filled plenty of their time with that, now it was time to focus on each other in other ways, but that didn't mean she didn't want to just grab his face and kiss him as passionately as ever. As his bottom lip came into contact with her upper one, her hands came up to his face, pulling it towards her as his hands found her back and pulled her closer to himself. Arching her back as his hands came into contact with it, Camila's hands fell to the hair at the nape of his neck, playing with it as she always did during moments like these. When his tongue darted out of his mouth, seeking entrance in her own, she happily welcomed it. Her own tongue found his immediately and they began to battle for dominance. She couldn't help the quiet moan that escaped from her mouth at the feeling, pulling herself even closer to his body if that was even possible.

KJ: As always whenever they were sharing such gestures, KJ couldn’t even say where he began and she ended -- her body melting into his and their mouths fitting like two pieces of the same puzzle. Demanding and passionate motions they were both lost into, unaware of how much time had passed as he kept trying to get more of the feeling coursing through their tongues. The sounds muffled by their actions making him grind against the shape of her ass, his hands tightening around her curves. Which is when he knew they needed to take a step back and return to something more playful and innocent. Pulling back from their kiss, shaky and shallow breaths filling his ears, the redhead fluttered his eyes open and studied her beautiful features. Even in a world full of chaos and despair, he was lucky enough to have someone as wonderful by his side. It was something he never wanted to take for granted. “I could eat you up.” he breathed out, a small smirk finding a place on his lips before he swiftly moved forward once more and licked her cheek. One of his hands coming up to the back of her head and keeping her in place.

Cami: In true fashion for the two of them, things got hot and heavy fast. Camila was thankful for KJ’s self-control as he pulled away. Her breathing was heavy as he pulled away and looked deeply into her eyes. Usually, she would shy away at someone looking at her for too long, but when KJ looked at her it was different. Camila continued to look into his gaze, smiling sweetly at him. When he broke the silence with his words about eating her up, she couldn’t help the smirk that met his. Before she could make a joke or say something dirty, he was reaching out to lick her face. Camila shrieked at the feeling, trying to push him away as his hand came up to hold the back of her head. “You’re so stupid,” she giggled, leaning forward to return the gesture, licking his cheek. “Ew. Sweaty,” she grimaced with a laugh. “Do I taste sweet?” she asked, looking up at him with her eyes wide. Turning her attention back to their plates on the table in front of them she picked up his fork and scooped up more eggs for him to taste. “We can’t let this food go to waste,” she whispered, moving the fork towards his mouth like someone would do for a baby. “Open up,” she teased.

KJ: Laughing alongside Camila as she returned the gesture, he simply shrugged at her question -- lips pressed together in order to keep himself quiet. He had stopped himself from going further physically and he didn’t think entertaining things verbally was a safe thing to do either. Not when she was still on his lap and her scent was filling his nostrils. Making him want to bury his face right back into the crook of her neck and let their bodies do the talking. “No, we can’t,” he whispered back, squeezing her side playfully before opening his mouth to take another bite of the eggs. They couldn’t let this food go to waste and they also couldn’t dive into whatever needs were lurking underneath their sweet and cute interactions. But the more they fed each other and uttered sweet nothings in between bites, the easier it became to focus on the simple motions they were bestowing on the other. The ardent passion of their kiss had dissipated and KJ was ready to enjoy the rest of the day cuddled up in her arms as they watched TV. With nothing more in mind than the comfort she always brought him whenever she was near.

Cami: Her lips fell into a pout as he denied her an answer to her question, "I know we can't, you'll just have to tell me another time," she whispered, leaning in to kiss his cheek. She giggled as he squeezed her side, poking his in retaliation. As they finished their meal together, whispering sweet nothings in between bites, Camila couldn't help but feel completely at peace. The past 48 hours had been absolute hell for her, but she was happy to be here with him, enjoying each other's company. Once their food was finished and the dishes were cleaned up, Camila dragged him towards the couch where Truffle sat waiting patiently for them. "Hi baby girl," she whispered to the puppy in her high-pitched, hyperactive mom voice as she waited for KJ to take a seat so she could comfortably fall back into his lap.

KJ: Following suit as Camila led the way to the couch, KJ smiled at the interaction with Truffle before throwing himself carelessly on the other end of the furniture -- laying down and keeping his brown eyes on her form. Everything had been so draining, and they deserved to simply be together without any tears or explanations. Sticking to the plan he had in mind, he simply tilted his head as she looked up, urging her to join him. Arms wide open to welcome her into a tight embrace and eyes fluttering shut as soon as her body was pressed up against his. This feeling of contentment whenever she was with him enveloping his entire being. He could feel Truffle tagging along on his chest and couldn't help but chuckle softly before placing a kiss on Camila's forehead. This moment, right here, was all he needed today and for the ones to come.

#p008: time to talk.

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