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squish36-writes-and-draws · 6 months

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Carry a Torch

Word count: 4401 <- untrustworthy number

TW: alcohol

Taglist (lmk if you want to be added/removed!): @stellar-lune @faggot-friday @kamikothe1and0nly @nyxpixels @florida-preposterously @poppinspop @uni-seahorse-572 @solreefs @did-i-say-you-could-get-up @rusted-phone-calls @when-wax-wings-melt @good-old-fashioned-lover-boy7 @dexter-dizzknees @abubble125 @hi-imgrapes @callum-hunt-is-bisexual @xanadaus @callas-pancake-tree @hi-my-name-is-awesome @katniss-elizabeth-chase @arson-anarchy-death @dizzeners @thefoxysnake @olivedumdum

On Ao3 or below the cut!

I would thoroughly recommend reading this on Ao3 if possible. I originally wrote this as a screenplay for my creative writing class and, as such, tumblr nuked the formatting. Ao3 did as well, but less so.

That being said, it's kind of important to understand my larger concept. This is a script for a pilot episode of a TV show. Each episode is going to be featured around a song (and I was forced to write this one which is why it's bad) so at the end, it's a concept album. You will not be allowed to have the rest of the show. I refuse to write it.) This also takes place in 1925 so I've thrown some less than successful slang in there.

INT. EVERGLEN RECORDING STUDIO - MIDDAY - 1925

KEEFE leans over the antique Vernon family heirloom piano where FITZROY (FITZ) is playing. The intro credit music stops as FITZ looks up at him.

FITZ sighs.

FITZ

Let me guess. You’ve been thinking.

KEEFE gasps overdramatically.

KEEFE

(feigned surprise)

Why ever would I do such a thing? You

know thinking can only lead to dangerous

outcomes. That being said, I did have a

thought.

FITZ

Stars, why do I even bother anymore?

KEEFE smiles annoyingly.

KEEFE

Because I’m very difficult to get rid of.

(beat)

I trust you know we’ve been looking for

a new venue since Tam dusted out on us.

FITZ

And whose fault was that?

KEEFE

Legally? Not mine.

FITZ pinches the bridge of his nose. KEEFE is unbothered by this.

KEEFE (CONT’D)

Anyway I was talking to Sophie—

FITZ

Anything that starts like that is certain

to end badly.

KEEFE

Fitzroy Avery Vacker, listen to me for a

second for once in your life. Foster has a

cousin whose family has a place we could

use. It’s not the most ideal—

FITZ

(interrupting)

Then why are we even going to bother with

considering it?

KEEFE

The back corner of a coffee shop is

better than nothing. Not all of us are

lucky enough to leech off your parents.

FITZ pauses for a moment, considering making KEEFE verbalize why, exactly, he cut off his relationship with his parents.

FITZ

I take it that means you’ve already booked

it.

KEEFE

It’s one gig. Do your best to tolerate it.

KEEFE turns toward the back door. No one knows where he is going, probably including himself.

FITZ

You know I won’t.

KEEFE

And you know I don’t care.

The door closes behind him and FITZ cracks his knuckles before going back to playing the piano.

INT. SLURPS AND BURPS - LATE EVENING/NIGHT

Slurps and Burps is a coffee shop during the day and a Speakeasy at night. People mill about, the space filled with chatter.

BIANA is sitting at the counter, swinging her feet as she talks to SOPHIE, drinking what is likely spiked coffee.

DEXTER (DEX) and FITZ are getting everything set up for the performance this evening. FITZ is trying to be helpful. DEX is left moving the piano mostly by himself.

DEX

(breathing heavy, teasing)

My guy, did you fill this thing with rocks?

FITZ

(indignant)

No. It’s just built to last.

DEX

(proud of his pun)

Well, it could certainly last through me

driving a car into it.

FITZ

Why would you ever find yourself in that

situation?

DEX shrugs.

DEX

I don’t know.

FITZ looks over at KEEFE, who is flirting with some random extra.

DEX adjusts the piano into its final resting place.

DEX

Can I get you anything? Java, tea, what

have you. We’ve got everything.

DEX lowers his voice.

DEX (CONT’D)

A little bit of moonshine? It’s a family

recipe.

FITZ

(low, dangerous)

You know, it’s probably not very good

business practice to disclose that

information to just anyone who walks in

off the street. Somebody’s going to call

copper.

DEX

(unconcerned, irritated)

You rat me out, you’re out of a job.

FITZ snorts.

FITZ

I didn’t want this gig in the first place.

FITZ raises his voice.

FITZ (CONT’D)

Isn’t that right, Keefe?

KEEFE

I got no context, so whatever makes him

look the most like a sap is the one I

want.

KEEFE spends the rest of the conversation watching them.

DEX

(voice low)

Then why are you here? Why did you even

bother?

FITZ leans against the piano, almost protectively, trying to make himself look relaxed. He is not. FITZ shrugs stiffly.

FITZ

I had nothing better to do. Trust me. I

tried. I really did.

DEX

(maximum sarcasm)

Wow, that must have been so difficult

for you.

FITZ

Lay off it, alright? I’m here for Keefe,

regardless of what you might want to think.

DEX

I want to believe you’re a sap, and you’re

not exactly giving me much evidence to the

contrary.

DEX takes a sip out of some unspecified alcoholic beverage. This is a speakeasy, after all.

FITZ

Oh, so you’ve talked to me for what? Five

minutes? And now you think you’re an

expert in my every waking thought? Every

detail of my inner psyche?

DEX puts his hands up, defensive.

DEX

I didn’t say that, Socrates. Watch your

tongue the text time you try to blow

things out of proportion.

FITZ

Like that isn’t blowing things even

further out of proportion?

DEX

If I remember correctly—and please

correct me if I am wrong here—you were

the first to threaten me and my family,

so I think that’s more than a fair

trade from your perspective.

The lights flicker, signaling the start of the show. It is operated by DEX’S BROTHER #1.

DEX

Well.

DEX presses his lips together.

DEX (CONT’D)

(bitter)

I should tell you to have fun up there,

but I don’t think you’re capable of

that. Break a leg and all that

superstitious nonsense.

DEX shifts to his customer service voice, laced with passive aggression.

DEX (CONT’D)

Let me know if I can get you anything

to make your time here slightly less

inconvenient.

FITZ turns away without a reply or a second thought.

EXT. - HAVENFIELD - MIDDAY, FALL

SOPHIE and DEX are sitting under a Jacaranda tree, leaves beginning to fall but not completely bare. They are complaining about many things. FITZ is a large topic of discussion on this fine day, and also KEEFE and BIANA to a lesser extent.

DEX

How do you put up with all of them on

a daily basis?

SOPHIE

Determination, resilience, a lack of

other valid career paths, and a dash

of—

SOPHIE wiggles her eyebrows. It is unclear which one she is wiggling her eyebrows about, but that ambiguity will be important.

DEX sighs.

DEX

Okay, like, on the one hand, I get what

you’re saying and, yeah, you’re

absolutely right.

SOPHIE laughs.

SOPHIE

That’s because I’m objectively correct.

DEX is too far in his own head to react to SOPHIE’s comment.

DEX

But, like, how can you reconcile that

with that personality? I don’t get it.

SOPHIE

There’s nothing to get. Admire from a

distance and your problems solve

themselves. Easy.

DEX pauses to consider this answer.

DEX

No. I don’t like that solution. Give me

a better one. Replace the personality

itself. You went to college. You have a

fancy degree in marketing or something.

Figure it out.

SOPHIE

Okay, first of all, that was several

years ago and I haven’t used it since.

DEX

You have a photographic memory. Don’t

try to pull that on me.

SOPHIE doesn’t know how to reply to this for a beat.

SOPHIE

(feigned anger)

Damn. How dare you know all my tricks?

Anyway, I don’t think personality

replacement was covered in my curriculum.

Sorry. But do let me know if the store

needs new customers.

DEX

Some might argue there’s already too many

people. That doesn’t excuse the fact that

you’re supposed to know the answers to

life, the universe, and everything. This

has been thoroughly established.

SOPHIE

Well, I don’t. Sorry.

DEX pauses for a long time, somewhere in the realm of several whole seconds.

DEX

I just wish…things would be easier.

SOPHIE smiles softly, encouragingly.

SOPHIE

On which front?

DEX laughs bitterly.

DEX

Yes.

DEX pauses, debating with himself if he should elaborate.

DEX (CONT’D)

(frequent pauses, struggling with sentences)

It’s just that…Fitz is…tangling

everything together. I used to be able

to go to work without getting trapped

in my own mind. And, well, to be

completely honest, I don’t much

appreciate it.

SOPHIE

You should go tell him that.

DEX physically flinches away from this idea.

DEX

I have an even better idea. How about

you go tell your boyfriend Keefe?

He’s the one that concocted this whole

booking-Slurps-and-Burps-for-a-gig

disaster. He should be the one to unravel

this Gordian knot of a situation.

SOPHIE

I’m not dealing with your problems.

You can talk to Fitz yourself or you

can deal with it.

DEX

(Making himself sound useless on purpose)

But, alas, I’m incapable of speaking

with people in rational terms. Whatever

am I to do?

SOPHIE

(not buying into DEX’s act)

Don’t make me show you what irrational

terms sound like.

DEX sighs, defeated. This is going to be unpleasant, but he’s already concocting the bribery he is going to offer KEEFE to make him want to relocate. Preferably without destroying his and SOPHIE’s relationship.

DEX is also fairly easily convinced to do things he doesn’t want to do while also being immensely stubborn.

DEX

Fine.

EXT. RECORDING STUDIO - THE NEXT DAY, DAYLIGHT HOURS

DEX walks up to the door and argues with himself in his mind before knocking.

Inside, FITZ sighs and stops playing piano. As he stands, his joints sing the song of their people. Unlocking the door, he finds DEX studying the ground and fidgeting with his sleeve.

FITZ

Hello! What can I—

FITZ realizes who is standing in the doorway and drops the polite act.

FITZ (CONT’D)

(flatly)

—What do you want?

DEX is irritated by this in an effort to not be thinking about how he is engaging in a conversation.

DEX

Believe it or not, not everything is

about you. I’m here to speak with

Keefe.

FITZ considers this, leaning against the doorframe.

FITZ

Nah, I don’t believe that one. Besides,

Keefe isn’t here. I don’t know where

he is or when he’ll be back. Sorry.

DEX feels a rush of relief, taking a deep breath.

DEX

It’s probably futile to ask you to tell

him that I was looking for him, but I’m

going to hope anyway.

DEX turns around to leave.

FITZ

You’re exactly right.

DEX

You don’t have to sound so disappointed.

BIANA (O.S.)

(yelling to be heard from across the studio)

Fitzroy! Stop being so obnoxious!

BIANA’s voice comes down from a yell to a normal speaking voice as the sentence goes on and she gets close enough to push FITZ out of the doorway and take his place.

BIANA (CONT’D)

I’m sure Keefe will return sometime

soon.

FITZ

(muttering)

Lies. Filth and lies.

BIANA

(to FITZ)

He’s going to get hungry sooner or

later.

FITZ seems to accept this, rolling his eyes and wandering back to his precious piano.

BIANA

(to DEX)

Can I get you anything? Fitz has an

obsession with baking and we’re

always trying to get rid of the

aftermath.

DEX smiles awkwardly as he shakes his head. BIANA turns to not be outdoors anymore and DEX follows her inside.

DEX

I mean, if you want to sell them at

Slurps and Burps, I could always

ask my parents.

DEX shrugs.

DEX (CONT’D)

I’m sure they’d agree, but I’d rather

present a possibility than a guarantee,

you know.

BIANA

You sound like him.

DEX and FITZ look equally offended by this and avoid eye contact at all costs.

BIANA takes this opportunity to leave DEX and FITZ together for a length of time while she investigates this route.

BIANA

Well, I’ve got some extra time today,

so I can go ask your parents myself.

Don’t knock each other off while I’m

gone, got it?

FITZ and DEX watch her leave. This is the same door that KEEFE used in the first scene, not the front door.

FITZ

(yelling after her)

How many times do I have to tell you to

stop meddling in my life?

FITZ huffs.

DEX gets up to leave out of the front door that is still open.

FITZ

(irritated and tired)

Where are you going now?

DEX

…Leaving?

FITZ

Well, don’t. Biana is going to think

I’ve planted you in the backyard or

under the floorboards.

DEX releases an exasperated sigh and sits down on a conveniently placed stool.

FITZ (CONT’D)

Believe me, I wouldn’t say that unless

it was absolutely necessary.

DEX

(his temper finally snaps)

What is your problem, dude? You’ve been

nothing but rude during the ten minutes

we’ve interacted. I understand if you

don’t like me. That’s understandable.

But you’re like this toward everyone. I

can also understand you didn’t want to

do the gig for whatever reason, but

instead of being like that about it, you

could’ve figured out a way to sit in

time out until the last minute. It’s not

that hard. There’s a very nice storage

closet where I’ve spent more hours than

I’d like to admit hiding from people.

FITZ’s hands drop forcefully into his lap.

FITZ

(equally angry)

Why should I explain myself to you? I

couldn’t care less about what you

think. I don’t know why you think I

would.

DEX

Oh, I don’t know, basic human decency?

I really don’t care if you disagree,

but I tried my best to be pleasant,

and you made that very, very difficult.

FITZ

That seems like a you problem.

DEX

Well, I’m sorry you couldn’t tolerate

a single evening that wasn’t precisely

what you wanted to do. That must have

been so hard for you. It’s almost like

I’m not trapped in that coffee shop

every single day.

FITZ

Again, that seems like a you problem.

I don’t see why I should be concerned

with a you problem.

DEX

And I don’t see why I have to put up

with your—

DEX gestures vaguely at FITZ, unable or unwilling to say what he’s thinking.

FITZ

(challenging)

My what?

DEX

Your general existence. I don’t want to

be here as much as you don’t want me to

be here. I would adore being able to

leave you alone, but it looks like

neither of us are going to get what we

want.

FITZ

So you’ve made it your personal mission

to make yourself as infuriating as

possible in the meantime?

DEX

I guess so. You didn’t exactly make it

difficult for me.

The sound of the back door opening stops FITZ from responding. KEEFE enters, mild surprise at seeing DEX but he also doesn’t care that much.

KEEFE

Did you miss me?

FITZ and DEX

(in approximate unison)

No.

FITZ and DEX look at each other—this is a pretty significant milestone in them agreeing on something. They laugh.

INT. SLURPS AND BURPS - MIDMORNING

FITZ enters, the doorbell announcing his presence. He makes eye contact with DEX’S SISTER at the counter.

DEX’S SISTER

Dex! Your friend is here!

DEX appears from the back, expecting SOPHIE or maybe even KEEFE. He has severe dark circles and is immediately irritated by FITZ’s presence.

DEX’S SISTER trades places with him, though she will be listening to their whole conversation.

DEX

What do you want this time?

FITZ

I do believe you’re a tea shop when

you’re not running from the police, and,

as such, I’d like a small Earl Grey.

DEX gives him a look. The kind of staredown that requires invocation of the if-looks-could-kill meter.

DEX takes some of the hot water from the coffee and unwraps a teabag, allowing it to start steeping.

DEX

And you had to come here for that?

FITZ

You’ve got the best tea in the shortest

distance from my apartment.

DEX

You can make tea yourself, you know.

FITZ

Yes, but, you see, then I have to

Interact with Keefe. In that case,

the amount I would spend in bribery is

significantly greater than venturing

out into the world.

DEX

I can almost see that.

DEX hands FITZ the scalding mug of tea. FITZ touches it and flinches away.

DEX (CONT’D)

Can I get anything else for you today?

FITZ

If you have a least favorite muffin,

I’ll take one of those.

DEX studies the muffins for a long second before choosing a victim. It is placed into a white paper bag that is slightly too small for both his hand and a muffin.

DEX

That’ll be $1.05

FITZ takes out his wallet and slides over a $20. For reference, this is roughly $350 when adjusted for inflation. That is also why the price of a tea and muffin is scaled the way it is.

DEX’s eyebrows react appropriately to the amount of money this is.

DEX

(projecting calmness and irritation)

Singlehandedly paying for a week’s rent

isn’t going to make me like you.

FITZ

Okay. That’s not going to stop me. Just

think of it like a starting point. A

deposit in exchange for dealing with me

and my—

FITZ gestures vaguely at himself.

DEX

I’m never going to live that one down,

am I?

FITZ

(almost, but not quite, playful)

Not if I have anything to do with it.

DEX

Lovely.

FITZ

Careful, I’m willing and able to have

Keefe perpetuate it even further.

DEX

I hope you know that my siblings have

already added it to their very limited

vocabulary, so there’s really no need.

DEX realizes this may result in additional perpetuity because it sounded like he was trying to make FITZ stop and that means he could take it as a challenge.

DEX (CONT’D)

Although, I guess there is a constant

need to make me suffer as much as

possible, so it’s really up to your

discretion.

FITZ takes the tea, no longer giving him fourth degree burns, and his muffin.

FITZ

Would you care to dine with me on

this fine morning?

DEX makes sure there aren’t too many customers, in case he would be needed to work. There are not. Most of their income comes in after sunset.

DEX

(loud so his siblings can hear)

Yes, I would like to get paid to not

work.

FITZ flashes a small smile that DEX does not see.

FITZ and DEX sit at a booth in the corner for minimum visibility. There aren’t many other people and if they get into another argument, they don’t want to be public entertainment.

DEX

It really is remarkable how determined

you are to both piss me off and remain

a patron here.

FITZ

Well, I��m sure you could solve the

latter fairly quickly.

DEX gestures widely to the doorway to the kitchen, where his siblings are trying to not be caught eavesdropping.

DEX

Behold. The reasons I am physically

incapable of kicking you out. I do that,

I’m never going to hear the end of it,

and that’ll get out to the rest of our

customers—because of course it will—and

then suddenly they start going down the

street for their mediocre morning coffee.

FITZ

Well, I’m not a coffee person, so I can’t

review yours, but your Earl Grey is quite

nice.

DEX lowers his voice conspiratorially.

DEX

It’s even nicer with a little splash of

something. If you get what I mean.

FITZ

(voice low to match)

It’s not even noon yet.

DEX

Then come back later. Time usually

travels linearly in the forward

direction, and then it’ll be after noon

and you’ll have to come up with a new

excuse. If that new excuse just so

happens to be that it’s not five

o’clock yet, wait until I tell you about

what else time can do. It can travel

linearly. In the forward direction.

DEX’S BROTHER #2 (O.S.)

And we don’t have a band tonight so then

maybe you’ll perform and Dex will be—

DEX turns and points at him.

DEX

Don’t finish that sentence if you don’t

want lead poisoning.

FITZ smiles.

FITZ

Allegedly.

DEX

Allegedly.

DEX turns back to FITZ.

DEX (CONT’D)

You don’t have to if you don’t want to.

FITZ

And that sounds like you’re trying to get

rid of me. I’ll see you tonight then.

FITZ brightens his smile and leaves. DEX doesn’t take any opportunity to argue with him, despite the fact that he has more than enough time to react.

When the door shuts, DEX releases a big sigh, deflating.

INT. SLURPS AND BURPS - AROUND SUNDOWN

Slurps and Burps is once again filled with many patrons, and they are once again filling the room with chatter. The piano is already in place, as are BIANA’s saxophone and KEEFE’s drum kit.

FITZ

(at KEEFE)

Stop looking at me like that.

KEEFE

(feigned oblivious innocence)

Like what?

FITZ

You know what you’re doing. Being all

self-righteous.

KEEFE

I don’t know what you’re talking about.

FITZ cycles through a few arguments before deciding it isn’t worth it.

FITZ

Forget it. We don’t have time to argue

about this. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I

do have a small change to the setlist.

KEEFE

Shouldn’t that have been discussed

previously?

FITZ

It’s not like you would care either way.

What’s it you tell me? Fitzroy, it’s

jazz, nobody cares about the setlist.

Half of it is already improv.

KEEFE

That might be accurate, but that doesn’t

mean I like it.

FITZ turns away, grumbling to himself and searching the crowd for DEX.

When he does eventually find him, FITZ smiles hesitantly.

FITZ

So this might be an odd request, but

please hear me out before you say no.

DEX

(already irritated)

Go ahead.

FITZ

(quickly, in a single breath)

I may or may not have a tendency to

process things by writing songs, which

I’m sure is a massive surprise

considering why I’m here. I don’t

remember exactly why I was talking to

Sophie a couple of days ago, but that’s

beside the point. Anyway, I happened to

be blessed with the songwriting curse

immediately after she left, and when I

emerged from the cave, the song’s point

of view was a little wonky. And by that

I mean, of course, that I tried to

project into your head, which is really

weird now that I’m saying it out loud.

DEX

Calm down. I don’t need you passing out

on me. I don’t want to call Elwin. He’s

already mad at Sophie. I don’t need that.

FITZ takes a deep, slightly shaky breath.

FITZ

On a scale of 1 to 10, how likely would

it be that I could ask you really,

really nicely to do the verse that’s

attempting, probably very badly, to

be in your point of view so that I

don’t have to ask Keefe to do it?

DEX

About a -7, presuming it’s a logarithmic

scale, but I’ll do it anyway.

A pause.

FITZ

Why?

DEX

Don’t question my motives. Just be

aware that I don’t know what I’m doing

and if I think about it too long, I’m

going to go cry in the bathroom, so

don’t let me think.

FITZ

Got it.

A longer pause, FITZ contemplates telling DEX something to help with the fact that his blood pressure is visibly rising.

BIANA (O.S.)

Fitz! It’s nine. Get going.

FITZ

(yelling over to BIANA)

Who is this punctual person and what

have you done to my sister?

FITZ turns back to DEX and pulls a crunched piece of paper out of his pocket.

FITZ (CONT’D)

Here’s the lyrics. I didn’t have time to

formalize any sheet music, but just kind

of…vibe with the music. That’s kind of

this whole genre’s mission statement,

isn’t it?

DEX

I am regretting my life choices.

FITZ

I’m sorry to hear that. You’ll be fine,

though. If not, I’ll bribe everyone with

muffins until the complaints stop.

DEX

(physically shaking)

Okay.

FITZ takes his place at the piano, making eye contact with KEEFE.

FITZ

Trust me, okay?

KEEFE smirks.

KEEFE

Yeah, of course. I’d let you lead us off

a cliff.

FITZ

A wouldn’t expect anything less.

FITZ begins playing an introduction, underscored by low rumblings from KEEFE’s floor tom after the first bar. FITZ’s focus remains squarely on KEEFE.

FITZ (CONT’D)

(singing)

HE LEANED OVER THE PIANO

WITH THAT MISCHIEVOUS GLINT IN HIS EYE.

HE’S BEEN THINKING ABOUT SOMETHING

AND NOW THERE’S NO GOING BACK.

The tempo ticks upward as KEEFE’s drums develop into a polyrhythm. FITZ leans back, his gaze landing on the ceiling.

FITZ (CONT’D)

THE WORLD IS ALWAYS MOVING FORWARD

I’M HANGING ON TO WHAT I’VE ALWAYS KNOWN

WHAT I’VE KNOWN HAS GOTTEN ME THIS FAR

WHY BOTHER CHANGING THAT?

FITZ finally looks at DEX, his irritation over the past few days on full display in his tone. The instrumentation drops out for a beat.

FITZ (CONT’D)

WHY DO YOU HAVE TO BE SO DIFFICULT WITH ME?

WHY DO YOU FIND SUCH PLEASURE ANGERING ME?

IF I COULD LEAVE, I PROMISE I WOULD,

BUT I DON’T HAVE A WAY TO ESCAPE.

I DON’T HAVE A WAY TO RUN AWAY FROM THIS PLACE

AND SO I’LL KEEP ON OCCUPYING YOUR SPACE.

DEX’s voice is so soft even the people standing next to him probably cannot hear him. He’s staring firmly at the ground. It’s not exactly symmetrical in the vocals or instrumentation with the first verse, but there’s no need for it to be.

DEX

(singing)

SHE’S ALWAYS MY WORST INFLUENCE

BY PUSHING ME OUTSIDE MY COMFORT ZONE.

IF ONLY SHE WOULD UNDERSTAND

I WANT TO FIND AN ESCAPE.

DEX gains a bit more confidence, staring at FITZ’s shoes and singing slightly louder.

DEX (CONT’D)

THE WORLD IS ALWAYS MOVING FORWARD,

I’M STILL RUNNING FROM WHAT I’VE ALWAYS KNOWN.

WHAT I’VE KNOWN HAS GOTTEN ME THIS FAR

WHAT MORE CAN LIE AHEAD?

DEX fixes a death glare on FITZ.

DEX (CONT’D)

WHY DO YOU HAVE TO BE SO DIFFICULT WITH ME?

WHY DO YOU FIND SUCH PLEASURE ANGERING ME?

IF I COULD LEAVE, I PROMISE I WOULD,

BUT I DON’T HAVE A WAY TO ESCAPE

I DON’T HAVE A WAY TO RUN AWAY FROM THIS PLACE

AND SO I’LL KEEP ON OCCUPYING YOUR SPACE.

Two bars of SILENCE echo through the room.

FITZ and DEX

(start softly, crescendoing)

IF I STAY HERE AND YOU STAY THERE

I’LL STOP STEPPING ON YOUR TOES

IF WE PRETEND LIKE NONE OF US CARE

MAYBE IT’LL COME TRUE.

THAT DOESN’T MEAN THAT I’LL EVER LIKE YOU

AND YOU DON’T HAVE TO LIKE ME.

PACIFY THE ELDER GODS

AND THEN WE’LL BOTH BE—FREE.

There is a long break, filled with instrumentation. BIANA and her saxophone have a whole narrative arc. DEX goes and runs off into the back, trying to never be seen again.

FITZ

WHY DO YOU HAVE TO BE SO DIFFICULT WITH ME?

WHY DO YOU FIND SUCH PLEASURE ANGERING ME?

IF I COULD LEAVE, I PROMISE I WOULD,

BUT I DON’T HAVE A WAY TO ESCAPE.

I DON’T HAVE A WAY TO RUN AWAY FROM THIS PLACE

AND SO I’LL KEEP ON OCCUPYING YOUR SPACE.

END SHOW

#kotlc #fedex week 2023 #fedex #detz #kotlc fedex #kotlc detz #dex dizznee #kotlc dex #kotlc fitz #fitz vacker #ship: fedex #series: fedex week 2023 #character: fitz #character: dex #character: keefe #character: sophie #character: biana

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1kook · 4 years

Text

espn & bdsm

this is part 6 of my netflix & chill collection !

summary; You would like to personally thank every loud-mouthed, ESPN commentator out there for saving you from Jungkook’s dangerous seduction skills. warnings; smut (18+) in the forms of brief femdom, handcuffs, nipple clamps, blindfolding, flogging/use of a riding crop, soft dom kook, cunnilingus, spitting, unprotected but passionate, degradation, as always it starts horny n then turns into I love u kink miscellaneous; kook has a swollen ankle so idk how he did all this, jk abuses the fuck outta pet names part 7, revenge gone wrong tbh, this was honestly a beginner’s intro to vanilla bdsm word count; 12.7k

notes; this is like… a healing fic… for the part before lol. also i did not know what was going to happen next as I was writing. anyway entire smut scene was based off THIS bad boy ur welcome fellas and the Jungkook described here is from in the soop episode 2... cutie... yes every single 1 of those words is a link

lmk what you think! a simple ask goes a long way <3

You're at the nail salon with Doyeon when she first mentions it.

“Have you ever, like,” she pauses, making a vague, swivel gesture with her head. You furrow your brows and she sighs. “Topped him. Have you ever been the one to take control?”

Your nail artist blushes, furiously filing away at your nails until the most perfect stiletto shape stares you back in the face. “Oh. Not really,” you admit, wiggling your wet toe nails around in the styrofoam flip flops issued by the salon. “I mean, sometimes I talk him through it.”

Doyeon snorts. “Babe, talking him through it and being the boss are two completely different things,” she says rather dryly, seemingly unbothered by the fact your two nail techs are being subjected to this more than intimate conversation. But you’ve had weirder talks with Doyeon in public; this doesn’t phase you. “Listen,” she says suddenly, dropping her voice down to a whisper that has you leaning closer to hear her. “You know how I’m a member of that site, right?”

You nod. “Oh yeah— Sexuality Unleashed: The Best Toys Worldwide!, right?” She kicks your shin, but the jab is muted by the bottom of her own styrofoam flip flop.

“Yeah, just tell everyone here my credit card number while you’re at it,” she hisses. Her anger fades soon enough. “Well, they’re always sending me all sorts of freebies for my devoted patronage,” she explains. She quirks her lips to the side, throwing one brief glance at the blushing nail artists in front of you. Eventually she seems to come to a conclusion. “Long story short they sent me some cuffs and I’m gonna give you them.”

Your jaw drops. “Woah, really? I don’t know… Don’t those usually run kinda pricey?” you ask tentatively. You’re trying to play it off, act like this isn’t something you want, but the reality is so much worse.

The minute the word cuffs had slipped through her lips it’s like a door opened before your eyes. A big, wooden door with chains strapped across it and a padlock you swore you’d never open.

Somewhere in your mind, you had always convinced yourself handcuffs in bed was something you’d like to have done to you. But, because she was your best friend and by extension a personified version of all your freakiest, often filtered, thoughts, it was like Doyeon had reached straight into your cranium and extracted your most secret fantasy— and that was Jungkook in handcuffs.

Your nail artist pats your hand, motioning you to head over to the drying station. Before you can be separated from Doyeon, you whip around to throw her one desperate look. “I have never wanted anything so bad in my life.”

She cackles loudly, easily garnering the attention of every employee and nail enthusiast in the salon with the evil witch vibes she exudes.

Truth be told, your argument with Jungkook had brought upon a newfound appreciation for him. Weird to say, considering you had wanted to kill the dude when it had originally happened. But the great thing about you and Jungkook was that you were flexible people— both in bed and out. A few long conversations later and you had reached the root of the problem.

And that root was your apparent lack of communicating when something was wrong. It was weird to think that anything could ever be wrong when Jungkook was involved. He was your honeybun, sugar plum, pumpy-umpy-umpkin. Your sweetie pie, for lack of better wording, and he could do no wrong—

—is what you’d like to say. But if there’s anything you’ve learned in the past year of dating Jungkook, it’s that perfection was a made up belief that revolved around the idea that someone’s flaws couldn’t possibly be a good thing. And as you’ve come to realize, Jungkook wasn’t the perfect gentleman you’d initially chalked him up to be. He was human, just like you, with his own list of worries and thoughts, and sometimes those thoughts manifested into flaws. They could be ugly or they could be beautiful, but at the end of the day, they all made Jungkook into the person he was— and you loved that person. Disgustingly so.

You had your moments, and he had his. Everything would not always be sunshine and rainbows for the two of you, but it was fine so long as you learned to play in the rain and stomp in the puddles.

Still.

You were you.

A slightly mean, slightly conniving, petty ass human who had been plotting his revenge since the day the two of you made up. I mean, you weren’t actually just going to let him get off the hook like that, were you? He had saved himself last time with a gooey, heartfelt apology and confession, followed by some extraordinary dicking down that had left you Naked and Afraid for three days after.

But you weren’t that easy! No, ma’am. You had to let him know that some gorgeous demon dick was not enough to satisfy you after a fight like that.

Jungkook was in for a desperately needed reality check, one that jingles in your purse when you step out of the Uber that drops you off at his place. You know he’s home because his front light is on, and also because he’d texted you that he was watching some soccer match on tv tonight. He’s a pretty big fan, especially of the club playing tonight, so you decide it’s a perfect night to strike.

Your copy of his key slips right into the keyhole. Your slippers are in the same place they always are, neatly set off to the side right by the stairs. He’s not in his living room, undoubtedly the most perfect place to watch any type of sporting event with that huge Jumbotron of his. The damn thing made it feel like you were in the stadium itself.

There’s a quiet hum coming from upstairs. You creep up the steps, carefully rounding the corner at the landing until you’re staring right into his dimly lit bedroom.

The way Jungkook’s got his bedroom set up is so that you can look directly at his door from the bed, terribly inconvenient for when that sleep paralysis demon hits in the middle of the night and you’re left staring into the dark hallway. He’s snuggled comfortably over his sheets, about three pillows supporting his back. The light of the tinier, more acceptable television he keeps in his room is dancing across his features in bright shades of green. You almost throw yourself onto his mattress like a starfish until you spot the carefully placed foot on the bed.

“What the hell did you do?” you blurt. A wrong move, considering he hadn’t seen you yet and your sudden appearance makes him jump nearly ten feet into the air, almost knocking down the bag of ice that sits on his ankle. “Oh my god, it was that damned Pilates class, wasn’t it?” you fret, rounding the bed until you’re on his side.

“Oh hey,” he says as if you’re not currently pulling the first eight seasons of Grey’s Anatomy to the forefront of your head to treat him. “When’d you get here?”

“Cut the crap, who did this to you?” you ask, sitting beside him with the utmost care. You drop your bag off to the side, the loud clatter of the inside contents vaguely registering in your head. The ice pack comes off easily, revealing a relatively okay looking ankle save for the slight swell towards the more medial aspect of it.

Jungkook takes the moment to sit up, joining you in your inspection of his injury. “No one,” he answers, using his new position to drop a kiss against the side of your head. “I fell off the ladder helping Mrs. Jung across the street.”

You choke. “You fell off a ladder?” you squawk, eyes wide as your gaze shifts from his ankle to his entire body.

He places a hand on your shoulder, “babe, I was on like the third step. It was one of those old wooden ones,” he explains with a nonchalant shrug. “The step just happened to snap on my way down.”

You scoff. “That old lady is out to get you,” you warn him. “Remember the time she almost had you plug in those burnt out Christmas lights for her? The ones that would have electrocuted you to death.”

Jungkook laughs, settling back into his stack of pillows. “In her defense, she’s old,” he offers. He’s wrapped up in a black hoodie, fluffy bangs parted down the middle. He’s got on some blue shorts, a huge difference from his usual dark-toned clothing. He looks so good and warm, and you’re suddenly hit with the fact you can’t possibly handcuff this poor, injured angel to his bedpost and ride his cock into the sunset. “You didn’t tell me you were coming over.”

You deflate, wild fantasies thrown out the window. “Yeah, well,” you sigh, ditching your pants and climbing over him until you’re snuggled into his side. “Wanted to show you my nails.”

It’s a lame excuse. But he buys it, so.

“They’re cute,” he says, taking your hand in his. He turns your hand over, inspects your pretty new acrylics like he actually has any idea how much they cost or how sexy they look. He raises your hand to his face, pressing a smooch against your knuckles that has you heart thumping embarrassingly loud in your chest. God, you hated this fool.

You turn your nose up at him, like you’re some snooty rich girl who couldn’t give him the time of day. Except it’s not like that, and Jungkook knows.

“What’re you watching?” you ask instead.

He’s got that stupid dopey smile on you, the one that takes one nudge against his side to snap him out of. “Ah, just the game.”

You squint at the screen. “Is this Fox Sports?” you ask in disgust.

He pinches your side. “This is ESPN,” he corrects. “And you don’t know shit about sports channels,” he points out. “So sit this one out.” You give in with a huff, cuddling closer into his side while trying to jostle him as little as possible. Jungkook seems to have no deeply rooted concerns about his injured ankle if the way he hauls you into his arms is any indicator. “How did nails with Doyeon go?”

“You know, the usual,” you respond, idly toying with one of the strings on his hoodie as your eyes focus on the little figures running across the screen. He hums, gesturing for you to elaborate. “Talked about sex, how much better than you at life she is, some more sex.”

He scoffs at that. “Doyeon is not better than me, and I have a whole trophy case to prove it.”

“Okay, but have you singlehandedly Twitter beefed with an entire sorority in your freshman year of university and won?”

He frowns. “No.”

You give him a look, one that says stand down now unless you want to lose to my best friend and get your feelings hurt. Jungkook understands. “Anyway,” he announces, turning his attention back to the screen with you. You think his team might be winning—you vaguely remember seeing him wear a similar jersey once—so he’s pretty relaxed for now. “They’re doing pretty good considering they just lost their main striker.”

You have no idea what that means. “Who? Messi?”

Jungkook knows you don’t know. “He doesn’t even play in this league,” he explains anyway.

“Oh, I saw him trending on Twitter last week. Thought he died or something. Whole time it was just a bunch of soccer nerds crying about him leaving his team.”

He laughs. “You should be a sportscaster,” Jungkook decides after your ever-so-eloquent recap, tucking his head cutely against your shoulder. There was a study once that claimed the incessant need to squeeze a baby’s cheeks or hug puppies tightly was actually the innate human response to kill something they felt threatened by. Oddly enough, you find yourself thinking of that as Jungkook’s citrusy shampoo floods your nostrils.

“Oh, speaking of Doyeon,” he says suddenly. “Did you give her my address? I got a weird package from that store she likes that I genuinely don’t remember ever ordering.” You frown, sitting up slightly until you can look at the side of his face, the cute mole on his cheek calling your name.

“What?” you ask. “Was it in her name?” Jungkook nods. You’re about to tear the roof off his house and go hunt that evil wench down when realization dawns on you. “Oh, no, yeah I gave her your address. My mom stayed over last weekend and Doyeon needed to order something nasty. Guess it got delayed until now.”

Jungkook nods and then doesn’t say much else, which is weird considering the circumstances. You expected him to gently scold you for carelessly giving the psycho that was Kim Doyeon his address, but she’s been here a few times to pick you up, even came over for beer night once. She probably knew it anyway, but you still expected some type of reaction of disapproval from him.

Something’s off, and you know better than to leave it at that. You poke his cheek, right where that mole you’d been eyeing was. “Did you open her package?” you ask, grin slowly consuming your features at the fact Jungkook was apparently a mail snooper.

He looks away. You laugh. “Oh my god, you did,” you cackle, sitting up beside him to get a good look at the blush growing on his cheeks. “What did you see?”

“Nothing,” he huffs, pretending to be overly invested in his soccer match again, but that ship died the moment you stepped into his room. “Babe, I can't see the match.”

You roll your eyes, purposefully shifting in front of him so he’s forced to look at the maniac look in your eyes. “What did you see, Jeon Jungkook, and are we going to steal it from her again?”

His cheeks bloom impossibly darker at that. “No!” he coughs, pointedly avoiding your gaze.

But your curiosity is at its peak now, his reactions only exacerbating it. You grab him by the shoulders, hands balling the material of his hoodie as you give him one firm shake. “What did you see,” you demand.

“Oh my god,” he gives in. You release him and he flops back onto his pillow mountain. “They were things,” he explains slowly, cheeks rosy. “For your, y’know,” a vague gesture over his chest.

You frown. “A bra?” you guess. “I’m not gonna lie, Kook, think I just lost a little respect for you.”

“No!” he huffs. “They were… little clamps. For your nipples.”

If this was a cartoon, you’re almost certain you’d be that character with the object in question in their eyes, heart fluttering in your chest at the words that leave his mouth.

Immediately, two things become obvious to you.

One, Kim Doyeon was a bigger freak than you’d expected who obviously dabbled in an assortment of trades. Clamps, your brain screams, overwhelmed with the image that appears in your head, the one that has a shiver running straight to your core. You would have to thank her for this gracious, unintentional gift she’s bestowed upon you.

Two, you’re gonna have to write her the best, most plausible apology letter tomorrow when you inform her those clamps have been lost in the mail, never to be seen again. Or you could just straight up tell her you snatched them up the moment you found out what they were, but you doubt that’ll go over well.

Jungkook groans. “You have that look in your eye,” he points out. You snap your attention back to him. “And I just wanna say in advance that I don’t think i can give you the fun night you deserve, baby,” he apologizes, motioning towards his still swollen ankle.

Something distinctly mean switches on inside of you.

You flash him a sweet smile that has him letting down his guard. You lean forward, pressing a soft peck to his cheek as you climb down the bed towards your forgotten purse that’d been resting on the floor until that point. “Who said I needed you to have fun?” you throw over your shoulder, carefully slipping Doyeon’s first gift close to your body so he won’t see.

Jungkook levels you with an unimpressed look. “Really,” he says dryly, “you think you can have fun without me?” He almost sounds cocky, as if the idea of you even enjoying yourself the teensiest bit without his help seems unfathomable.

You grin, padding over to his bedside, where you carefully pick up his hand. You mirror his actions from before, pressing a sweet kiss against his knuckles that makes that conceited look slip off his features for a second, eyes soft.

Click.

Jungkook frowns. “What the—“ before the sentence can leave his mouth you’re lunging forward, wrestling his hands above his head, until they’re both secured at his headboard by the soft cuffs Doyeon had given you that afternoon at the salon. Jungkook’s wide eyes stare back at you, briefly leaving to glance up at the silver chain that wraps behind one of the rungs of his headboard. “Babe,” he says slowly. “What the fuck.”

You beam at him, leaning down to snatch a pillow from beneath him so he’s better positioned, leaning back more. “So cute,” you gush, taking in the way his raised arms have the hem of his hoodie lifting at the waist. There’s a faint trail of hairs around his belly button that disappear beneath the elastic of his shorts. “Do you like them?”

Jungkook blinks. “Baby,” he says a second time, much slower and a little too calm for your liking. It almost gets swallowed by the roar of the fans on TV. “What is this?”

You ignore him, scampering around his room until you find the hot pink Sexuality Unleashed packaging peeking out from beneath his bed. Sure enough, it’s in Doyeon’s name but his address. A whole complicated mess just for some nipple clamps she’ll never see again. It’s what’s inside anyway, not that you thought Jungkook was lying, but there’s something about the actual, carefully wrapped packaging that makes your heart and pussy flutter.

“Oh! Aren’t these the prettiest things?” you exclaim, whirling around to where Jungkook is shaking up a storm with his cuffs, pout growing on his features the longer you leave him there. The ice pack slips off his ankle, falling onto the comforter beside him from all his movement.

Jungkook doesn’t seem the least bit interested in the silver nipple clamps in your hands, too busy trying to free himself from the sudden trap you sprung on him. “Sweetheart, we can play with those tomorrow, alright?” he tries, relaxing his arms and finally looking your way. There’s a frustrated furrow to his brows, one you rarely see but adore very much. “Just undo these cuffs for me, yeah?”

You tilt your head to the side, placing a hand on the inside of his calf that you trail all the way up as you move to stand beside his hip. His thighs flinch at your touch, tensing when you stop just before the crotch of his pants. “Mmm, don’t think so,” you smile, dropping the thin chain beside him.

Your shirt goes first, peeled over your body until you’re left standing in your bra. It’s nothing too special this time, just your average run of the mill comfort bra hugging your chest. But that doesn’t really matter, especially not with the way you’re hoping things play out tonight. You’d discarded your jeans a few moments prior, so the shirt joins them on a pile on his floor.

As much as he tries to act irritated by your refusal to release him, there’s a slow stirring beneath his shorts. It’s emphasized by that bright blue material, cock swelling as he watches you take off your clothes. “Baby,” he warns, possibly for the last time. But you won’t know unless you push some more, you tell yourself, placing one knee on the edge of the bed, the other thrown across his lap.

“Wow,” you marvel, picking the chain up once more. Jungkook shifts beneath you, half hard cock brushing against the cleft of your cheeks. “Don’t you wanna see what it’s like, Jungkookie?”

He says nothing, watching you with solemn eyes that leave no room for reading him. Behind you, the game commentator is chattering up a storm.

Doesn’t matter, especially not when this flimsy metal had you so completely hypnotized. You reach behind yourself, unsnapping your bra with one fluid motion that has the cups falling onto your lap, soft chest on display for the man before you. Your breasts spill out slowly from their cage, pretty hardened buds slowly coming into his view. They make him pause his fussing, half-lidded gaze falling to the swell of your chest hungrily. His hands jerk, the cuffs doing their job of keeping them there.

You grin, placing a hand on his chest, over his hammering heart. “Do you wanna see me wear them?” you croon, tugging the material of his hoodie up his stomach, until your thighs are sitting directly on his tiny waist, thin thong just over his belly button. You trail your hand up, letting it brush up the side of his neck and bury into his scalp. You give an experimental tug that has his eyes squeezing shut. “Yes or no, Jungkookie?”

He’s being a huge brat for you, eyes scrunched up together like the sight of you enjoying yourself sans his touch is unimaginable. Another tug of his hair and he’s exhaling shakily, a quiet, “yes,” slipping past his lips.

The chain drops onto his chest with a quiet thud, shocking him enough to blink his eyes back open. Releasing your hold on his hair, you sit back on his lap, towering over his fidgety body like a goddess at a temple, him the lowly worshipper beneath you.

Your hands crawl over your body, starting somewhere around your waist. The glide up over your tummy, caress the underside of your breasts teasingly. Sure Jungkook knew your body well, but you knew your body best. One hand rubs teasingly over your breast, palm pressing down slightly against where your nipple lies, while the other drops down between your thighs, slowly grinding against your mound.

“Look, Jungkookie,” you gasp, body twitching at your own hands. You take a hardened nub between your fingers, rolling it back and forth until it’s standing at its peak. “I can do it without you,” you tease, rolling your hips against him slowly. The thin material of your thong does nothing to save you from the delicious swell of his cock against you. “F-Fuck,” you whimper, circling a finger over your clit. “It’s, it’s even better.”

His restraints jiggle against the bed frame, an obvious look of distress crossing his features. “No,” he huffs out a whine, tugging at the cuffs as you slowly unravel on his lap. They don’t give, no matter how much he pulls. You know he’s holding back, afraid of damaging his headboard, and you take advantage of the fact as you move to roll both nipples between your fingers. He groans harshly, jaw tight. “Hate you,” he hisses, hips wiggling beneath you. “Hate you, hate you.”

You breathe out an airy chuckle. “R-Really?” you ask, trembling hands finally reaching back for that second gift of the day. Your breath is shallow, so thoroughly wound up from your own playful hands, and you tremble at the mere brush of the cool metal. “Oh fuck,” you whimper, bringing them up to your chest, “I’ve never done this before,” you confess.

There’s a sense of amazement that consumes you at the thin chain you hold in your hands, the pretty gold painted clamps on each end. It makes you shiver, body unconsciously grinding down against Jungkook’s lap where his engorged cock was fighting against the material of his shorts.

“Then let me help you,” he tries, the childish tone from before melting into his usual silky smooth baritone. Jungkook even softens his gaze at you, let’s his tongue peek out to wet his lips as you almost seriously consider his request.

Had it not been for the sudden loud shout from the sports commentator behind you, a long obnoxious gooooooaaal, you probably would have fallen victim to that honey-eyed gaze. You would like to personally thank every loud-mouthed, ESPN commentator out there for saving you from Jungkook’s dangerous seduction skills.

Without a second thought, you bring one of the little camps close to your chest, giving it a few experimental squeezes until the nerves are replaced with an overwhelming wave of horniness that even Jungkook can sense. “Fuck,” he groans, shaking his restraints back and forth like a wild animal as you slowly get to clamping your left nipple.

You’re not sure what you expected; part of you had thought it was going to be an excruciating pain, one that would make you want to scream and shout in sheer agony. The other part had reduced it to a barely there pinch that would never live up to your fantasies. As it stands, the sensation of the clamp around your swollen nipple sits right in between, drawing in a choked gasp that makes your eyes roll into the back of your head.

“Baby, sweetheart,” Jungkook gasps alongside you, eyes zeroed in on the pinched off bundle of nerves. There’s a sudden grinding sound that fills the air, like the sawing off of wood that definitely doesn’t sound good, and it’s a direct result of the fight he puts up against his headboard. “Please, please,” he begs, muscled arms tugging back and forth. “I have to touch—“

The second clamp goes on, making your entire back arch as if you were possessed. You're not, just extremely overwhelmed by the prickle of pain on your tits that makes you grind down against his cock, hands fisting the front of his hoodie like it’s the only thing grounding you right now. “Oh,” you shudder, thighs quivering at the heightened stimulation you receive from the clamps sitting on your nipples. “Kook, I-I can’t.”

He growls, hips bucking beneath you in a crazed effort to better situate you on his lap. “You gotta take these off me,” he rasps out. The next buck of his hips makes the chain dangling between your breast brush dangerously close to his face. He’s unintentionally goaded on by the TV in the room, the annoying drone of the commentator shouting something about never giving up. “Can make you feel so much better, sweet girl,” he cooes, jutting his head out like he needs a kiss.

Your head feels woozy, pussy throbbing at the sensations being channeled down into your core. Your eyes flutter shut, and before you can think it through, you're blindly reaching for the chain, giving it one light tug that has you mewling like a kitten. “O-oh, fuck,” you sob, looping your finger around the thin chain carefully. Another tug that pulls against your nipples sends a gush of wetness down between your thighs. “Cock,” you slur dazedly, “need your cock.”

Jungkook shudders out a long breath. “Le-Let me go then, sweetheart,” he chokes out, “let me fuck that pretty little pussy for you.”

“Uh uh,” you disagree, bringing another angry buck out of him, metal cuffs rattling loudly. “Want you to watch,” you pant, reaching behind you for his shorts. “Watch me, Jungkookie.” It takes three tries for you to get a grip, the elastic material slipping from your fingers before you finally gain some semblance of control and paw them down . The shorts and the boxers came off together, his engorged cock springing up to tap against your ass. “W-Watch,” you repeat dazedly, leaning forward with one hand on his shoulder to line him up with your dripping hole. Behind you, the commentator is droning on about core balance or something of the sort. It takes two tries as you blindly have to tug your panties to the side as well, and just as you have his fiery red tip against your entrance, something else happens.

He catches you, pearly teeth biting down on the chain that connects your clamps in a motion you can only liken to a bloodthirsty shark jumping out of the water, jaws snapping to catch its prey. It dangles in his face, the same way his own necklaces have done to you so many times before. But the difference between you and Jungkook was that while you let his assortment of necklaces hypnotize you, drag across your face painfully, he doesn’t. He snaps forward, catches it between his teeth.

You mewl loudly, foggy vision turning onto him. Jungkook’s got this unreadable look on his face, likes he’s pissed off and turned on all at once. “You’re not in charge,” he murmurs around the chain, the s and c sounds all slurred together. “You will never be in charge, silly girl, you got that?” he spits, yanking his head back like an animal, pulling your upper body with him by the two golden clamps on your nipples.

There’s tears in your eyes, lining your waterline and threatening to fall with each tug his mouth gives against the chain of your nipple clamps. He’s got his neck craned back as far as he possibly can with a pillow beneath him, chain links digging into his bottom lip. “Y-Yes,” you sob, your entire body quivering at the way he so easily manages to overthrow you, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he says, solemn eyes flickering across your twisted features once more. He gives another purposeful tug, head snapping back just the tiniest bit, but it’s enough to tug you forward again, a loud whimper torn from your throat. “Undo these cuffs for me, sweet girl,” he commands softly, jiggling the same restraints he’d spent the better part of fifteen minutes fighting against.

“Y-Yes,” you whimper, hands wildly slapping down on his bedside table. You had had half the mind to leave the key there when you had retrieved the cuffs, telling yourself it would be easy access afterwards. It’s not, apparently, the silver pick falling just out of reach. For some reason— it’s probably the sensitivity and horninesss, the pinpricks of pain that originate from your nipples —this fact frustrates you to the point of tears.

“Easy, doll,” Jungkook talks you through, voice low and soft beneath you, “relax and grab it for me, okay?” You nod, angrily blinking away a tear that drips down your face. It splatters on Jungkook’s cheek, bringing a soft huff of amusement from him.

Finally the key brushes your hand, and you sigh in relief, shakily leaning forward to undo the lock above his head. He releases his killer chomp/grip on your chain just as you release his cuffs. “I-I’m sorry,” you sniffle, a sudden need to apologize as you watch him rub at the raw skin around his wrists. “I didn’t—“

“Shhh,” he says, cuddling you into his chest. “It’s alright,” he says simply and you believe him.

Which ends up being a terrible mistake exactly ten seconds later when he’s shoving your face into the sheets, your cries and whimpers muffled by the sounds of the game on TV as he winds your arms behind your back. You struggle for all of five seconds before a soft click resounds from behind you.

“Did you think I’d just let that slide, sweet girl?” he growls against your ear, hot breath fanning across your skin. “I'm not your dog, __,” he spits, suddenly yanking you up by your cuffed wrists. Your chest is heaving, arms aching from the way he’s got you on your knees, blind to whatever he’s doing behind you. “Don’t lock me up, because I’ll always come back to bite.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you stammer, flinching when a hand snakes around your waist, an experimental tug to the chain of your clamps. It sends a shudder down your spine, amplified by the hot press of his body behind you. “I won’t do it again!”

“I know you fucking won’t,” he laughs meanly, trailing his hand down over your mound. One finger circles your clit through your underwear, a shaky sigh exiting your lips at the jarringly light touch. “Because I’m gonna fuck you until you’ve learned your lesson, silly girl.”

“I said sorry,” you whimper, thighs quivering. His cock brushes up against you, the same cock you were about to ride until the sunset. Oh how the tables have turned.

A hand slips beneath your underwear, pad of a finger rubbing against your swollen clit. “Oh,” you exhale, surprised with the suddenly gentle touch following his words. “Th-That’s nice,” you murmur, head lolling forward at the slow rhythm he sets, playing with you like you were a toy that needed warming up.

“Yeah?” he husks out. There’s a yank to your clamps that makes you gasp, chest following the motion as if it’ll reduce the shock. “You think this is about making you feel nice?” he murmurs. Another tug, followed by another, until he’s raining down a series of rhythmic shocks onto your tits that make you shiver and twitch, tongue heavy in your mouth to the point you feel like you’re drooling.

“Wait,” you whimper, arms twisting behind you. “Hurts, hurts” you cry, arching your back like it’ll save you from the steady stimulation against your rock-hard nipples.

“Does it?” Jungkook hums, one hand working away at your clit. He swirls it around his finger, pressing down on the nub in an attempt to distract you. But it only heightens the sting coming from your breasts, the blossom of pain that grows over each mound the longer he plays with you. “Good. Want your pretty little body to hurt for me, baby.”

Right after saying that he releases the grip on your chain, letting it swing back and forth until it eventually rests on your stomach, throbbing nipples spared for now. A breath of relief washes over you now that you only have to worry about the hand playing along your folds. The TV is still flickering to your right, but the commentator's voice sounds fuzzy and so far away, like he’s in a whole different dimension while you and Jungkook are here.

Your reprieve lasts shorter than you expected, as his free hand slowly begins creeping up your waist, fluttering over the little gold clamps pinching your nipples. “Pretty girl,” he compliments, nudging one tender nub with a playful finger. “Pretty, pretty baby,” Jungkook murmurs as he begins massaging the scorching hot skin around your nipples gently. There’s a warm kiss pressed to your shoulder, followed by a trail up the side of your neck. You shudder, trying to focus on the hand that creeps down your folds, teases itself against your entrance.

“Jungkook,” you whine softly, rolling your head to the side so he can suck bruise after bruise onto your skin. You’re definitely drooling, the saliva thick and heavy in your mouth. “T-Too much.”

“Thought you wanted that,” he mumbles, kissing up and up until he’s at your jaw and then he’s at your mouth, languidly kissing you. He’s doing that thing again where he’s hellbent on drowning you in his spit, and if you didn’t know better you’d think he was preparing you for something. “Wanted me to watch you bounce that tight little cunt on me while your tits were like this,” he says, punctuating his statement with a light slap against the side of one breast. It makes you jump, a moan catching in your throat.

The finger that had been playing meanly along your wet folds eases itself past your lips, plunges head first into the aching heat inside of you. He works it against your walls, thumb over your clit as he curls his finger inside of you. You moan loudly, shaking in your restraints. The hand over your chest squeezes, pushes the clamp deeper against your breast until your entire body is short-circuiting.

Your first orgasm comes over you with all the grace of a lightning bolt; it’s sudden and jerky, has every nerve ending wildly spasming as you whimper his name. “No more, no more,” you beg, head lolling back against his shoulder. He shows you no mercy, simply rubs furiously over your clit, until you’re jerking into his maniac hand.

When it’s over, he places a kiss against your jaw, curling his finger inside once more “Play with yourself,” he whispers.

“H-Huh?” you stutter, the rattle of your cuffs loud in both your ears, but not as loud as the breath you were trying to catch post-orgasm. You wonder if maybe he got ahead of himself again—he occasionally did that, thinking ahead to a point you hadn’t reached in your normal progression of sex —but suddenly he’s shoving you back down again, the finger that was slowly driving you insane rudely exiting your cunt.

You flop down against the mattress with a squeal, wiggling around like you actually had a chance of doing anything with him watching you like he is. You struggle for a few beats, every shift against the mattress rubbing harshly against your breasts until you nearly want to cry.

Just as you reach that point, he’s rolling you into your back, hands uncomfortably bent beneath you. It leaves you unwillingly arching to accommodate them, tits practically presented for him to see. “Pretty girl,” Jungkook groans, reaching down for the first time that day to touch himself.

His self restraint was truly unmatched, you realize, watching him squeeze the base of his cock. He runs a palm over his abdomen, up his chest. He drags the material of his hoodie along with it, eventually shucking it off somewhere to the side. His hair, so fluffy and soft, flops over his forehead, a few defined strands tickling his eyebrow.

The mere sight of him alone made you shiver, pussy clenching at the wet dream before you. He’s not an idiot either, obviously aware of what the sight of his body does to you, the tattoos littering his entire right arm that hypnotize you. The faint glow of the TV screen against his side makes him look like the cover star of every middle-aged wife’s erotic romance novel. He reaches said arm down, runs a hand along your thigh until you’re spreading them wide for him.

He doesn’t touch you like you want, only slides over your body until he’s toying with the chain of the nipple clamps that were slowly becoming the bane of your existence. “Open,” he says suddenly, and you do. Your mouth drops open, tongue stuck out slightly even if you don’t know why. He’s ingrained the response into you by now, made you into a desperate slut always ready for anything in your mouth.

This time it’s the stupid, stupid chain connecting your nipple clamps. He tugs it until it’s pulled up, the pull against your nipples making you whimper and writhe. The metal is cool when it touches your lips, but his fingertips are warm. “Good girl,” he praises once you bite down; even this sends a shock of nerves down your spine and to your pussy. “Just like that.”

A muffled whimper escapes your lips, tears clouding your vision at the stimulation that was quickly overwhelming you again. Part of you thinks no more, please, I can’t. But the other has you spreading your legs for him, quivering pussy desperate to be filled.

The distress must be obvious in your face if the way Jungkook kisses your neck is any indication. He’s got one hand massaging against the underside of one breast, like he’s soothing the striking pain of your pinched nipples for you. If anything, it only strings you along more. “Stupid baby,” he chuckles meanly, a soft puff of laughter against your jaw, “thinking she could push me down.”

He leans back onto his knees, that same careful brush against the inside of your thigh bringing about an embarrassing whimper as he peels your thong away. “But you didn’t really want that, did you?” he eggs on, slowly shifting down against the bed, until his mouth is hovering over your exposed lower lips. His breath is warm, makes you yearn for him to be closer. “You like when I shove my cock into your little pussy, right? Like how it feels when I turn you into my little slut like this,” he sighs, pressing one chaste kiss against your thigh that makes you pull at the cuffs behind your back.

Soon, his mouth is on your clit, the same clit he had previously pampered with his hands but chooses to play with again. He licks an obscenely wet stripe from your throbbing hole to your clit, tongue curling devilishly towards the end. You whimper, though the sound is distorted around the chain in your mouth. Jungkook groans, dives mouth first into your cunt until he’s suffocating himself. His cute nose is pressed against your clit, and he takes advantage of the fact by taking one, dramatic sniff with his eyes rolled back. A soft moan escapes him.

“Fuck,” he shudders, “smell like heaven for me.” You moan at his sweet words, eyes squeezed shut as if that’ll stop the buckets of overwhelmed tears that you’ve been fighting off since the moment the clamps came on. “Wanna give you the world, angel,” he breathes, licking languidly against your folds, tongue occasionally peeking inside.

You mewl and writhe, every movement sending a tug of pain over your nipples. You want that gorgeous cock deep in your cunt, want to feel him in your womb, but you can’t voice any of this with the chain of the clamps between your lips.

Jungkook sits up suddenly, and you’re thinking yes, finally, before the look on his face has you screeching to a halt. There’s something distinctly different about him, a look you don’t think you’ve ever seen in bed before. Your thoughts are only confirmed when his foot slides onto the floor, as if he’s about to leave.

The panic must be evident on your face, because Jungkook is quick to swoop in and reassure you he’s not done with you yet. “Wanna fuck your little pussy,” he admits, carding a hand through your hair. “But the truth is I don’t think you deserve that just yet.”

With that he slinks off the bed, leaving you writhing in confusion as he heads off for the closet behind you. You can’t see what he’s doing, can only hear the shuffling of something back and forth. The TV is still on, the loud cheering of the fans muffling his clattering. You’re suddenly reminded of his swollen ankle, craning your neck to tell him to not overdo it, when something dark covers your eyes.

He’s standing just beside the edge of the bed, his signature teddy bear heat emanating off in waves so thick you could touch them. “Do you trust me?” he murmurs, voice close but not close to your ear.

Something swells in your chest, an emotion so intense your entire pelvis tightens up at the realization that Jungkook was asking for permission to blindfold you. You’re almost certain it’s one of his ties, a silky black thing that covers your vision for the most part, save for a little crack by where your nose juts out. A shuffle to your side, and then he’s gently prying the chain he had pushed past your lips earlier out. “Need an answer, ___,” he says quietly, almost nervously.

“Yes,” you gasp, your entire body set aflame at the sudden turn of events.

If you were being honest you would have never predicted your night would end like this. Maybe you came in a little too cocky, a little too optimistic for the night. It was supposed to be Jungkook handcuffed and powerless, you remind yourself— how on earth did you get here?

“Good girl,” he praises, giving you a little encouraging nudge to raise your head for him to actually tie the knot behind your head. It’s definitely one of his suit ties, you realize, because there’s a distinct cross-stitch pattern that you can feel only when it’s tightened against your skin, pressing against your fluttering eyelids. When he releases you, you’re suddenly all too aware of the sense he’s deprived you of.

“K-Kook?” you call out with a tremble in your voice. The rhythmic pattern of his footsteps rounds the bed again, and then there’s a soft touch against your leg.

“Right here, sweet girl,” he reassures you. The bed dips by your legs as he closes in on you, still tied up and on the verge of a second orgasm that he snatched away before your very eyes; not that you can see it anymore. His hand slides over your stomach, tugs playfully at the clamps. You moan, the sensation magnified tenfold by the fact you can’t see nor anticipate his actions now.

His hands glide like two sailing boats over the broad expanse of sea that is your body, molding against your curves like waves as they go. He hums appreciatively, and you find yourself glad you can’t see him. You can’t possibly imagine with what eyes he’s looking at you now.

You bask in the glory of his attention for another beat before he retracts his touch.

And then, suddenly, something distinctly not hand-like, and weirdly soft traces over the inside of your thighs. “Kook?” you ask tentatively.

No response.

It runs over your skin in the same way his hands just did, a unique shape your brain scrambles to put a name too. It’s soft, so soft. But cold to the touch. Inanimate for sure. It’s a toy, your brain supplies belatedly, but that much you already know.

It’s heart-shaped, you realize, just as it thwacks down against your pussy.

You shriek at the suddenness of it all, thighs clamping shut. Your heart is thundering at a pace of a rabbit’s, chest rising and falling as you blindly piece together what just happened. “Kook?” you whimper a second time, head craning back and forth in a desperate attempt to track his next move.

He’s not touching you anymore, but the bed is still dipping by your feet, so you deduce he must be there. You test your theory by sliding your foot against the sheets, lower lip trembling at the idea of him not being there.

Jungkook catches your ankle with one warm palm, slightly calloused from years of weightlifting. He raises it up, the cold air of his room hitting your exposed pussy. “You liked it,” he says, not a question but an observation. Your pussy throbs, the phantom strike against it lingering. A kiss to your ankle.

“Wh-What is it?” you cry, unconsciously pressing your leg closer to him now that you have his location. (You don’t see the soft smile on his face at your action.) Ever so slowly you let your thighs open again, now anticipating the next touch of that thing— that riding crop, you realize.

Jungkook confirms. “It’s a riding crop,” he explains, excitement curling around his words. Suddenly, it returns, this time against your stomach. He doesn’t strike you like he did before, simply lets it run across your tummy. “Heart-shaped. It’s so pretty,” he sighs dreamily. “Reminds me of you.”

You nod anxiously, stomach muscles tensed the longer it stays there. Jungkook obviously sees this, lifting it to give you the lightest of taps that still manages to make you gasp. “Cute,” he laughs, trailing it back to where it first touched down.

“Oh,” you tremble, thighs twitching as it pats tenderly over your clit. “Wai-Wait,” you warn, body arching as he runs it down, down your swollen folds. “No,” you weep, going to close your legs. But Jungkook predicts your moves, pressing your thigh down harshly against the bed.

“Shh,” he soothes, tracing the heart down your folds, pressing it flat against you. There’s a distinct lining over it that makes your hips jump, a faux-velvet covering the tip that tickles your skin. “Sit still for me.”

“No!” you gasp. Your back arches, body betraying you as it pushes your pussy against the toy. “I can’t, I can’t, Kook,” you sob, lips contracting around the gaping nothingness in your hole.

He condemns your attitude with a harsh swat of the riding crop against your cunt, tearing another high-pitched squeal from your lips. It’s followed by another against your clit that makes your body spasm. “Bad,” he chides. “Supposed to be my perfect girl.”

“I c-can’t,” you whine, the darkness over your eyes making the sensations ten times more intense. You don’t know where he or the riding crop are if they’re not directly touching you. Even then, the image is fuzzy in your head. “Need you,” you pant.

You try to reach for him, try to pull him into your arms. But you’re reminded of the cuffs holding you back, the metal digging into your skin behind you. You sob at the realization, angrily shaking your hands back and forth like maybe acting like a tantrum-throwing child will save you. It doesn’t.

Instead there’s a tug at the chain resting on your stomach, one that makes you cry out in pain when it pulls at your terribly sensitive nipples again. Jungkook uses it to pull you close, just a small inch off the bed that has you gasping for breath nonetheless.

“N-No,” you wail, nipples throbbing from all the sensations you’ve put them through tonight.

A chaste peck against your trembling lips. “Tell me how it feels,” he purrs, nose brushing against yours. Even with the tie obstructing your vision, the latest version of your boyfriend burns itself into your eyelids, force feeding you his sweaty skin and damp hair until even his breath against your face is enough to bring you to the edge.

“I-It’s scary, Kook,” you sniffle, listening for any signs of a reaction. But even if he did show one, your breathing is too loud and the ESPN channel is still blaring on screen. “Scary,” you whimper, lunging forward in a desperate move to feel the familiar brush of his tongue against yours. You miss.

“Do you want to stop?” he asks carefully, like he’s afraid he’s pushed too far.

He has. But fuck, do you love it.

“No,” you wail, lips smushed somewhere along his cheek, near his jaw and not his mouth like you wanted to. “Feels good, feels so fucking amazing,” you babble, cut off halfway through by a hiccup from your sad cries. “Wanna cum, wanna cum for you like this.”

Jungkook chuckles in relief, tilting his head until you can catch his lips with yours. It’s probably an awkward angle you assume, him adjusting for your vision-less whims, but it feels so good. It sends a shock to your pussy, his plush lips against yours. Without him telling you, you’re opening your mouth for him. “Spit on me,” you beg pitifully.

Jungkook groans, and you can almost visualize the look on his face perfectly— the tensing of his jaw, the push of his Adam’s apple, the pucker of his lips. “God, you’re disgusting,” he sighs, a fat glob of spit hitting the back of your tongue. Without your vision, you don’t see it coming, recoiling with a whiny mewl. The thin trail of saliva that follows trails across your chin when he finally reels back. You swallow greedily, wondering how soon is too soon to ask him to do it again.

With your full permission to move forward, Jungkook wastes no time trailing the riding crop over your wet folds, collecting your oozing pre-cum on the tiny heart as he roves it over your cunt. “Fuck, you can probably cum like this too, can’t you?”

You can’t answer, too caught up in the featherlight brushes. Even if you wanted to say something, one sudden strike against your pussy renders you speechless. “Mmh!” you hiss, biting down on your lip.

“Come on,” Jungkook encourages, resting a hand on your thigh. He presses the crop against you again, pushes down until the flat apex of the heart where it meets the flexible stem of the toy is pressing against your cunt hotly. He grinds it down against you, takes a sick pleasure in the pathetic way you arch up into it, rut against the little heart like it can provide even half the pleasure his hands usually would. “Talk to me, sweetheart,” he murmurs.

Your body is on fire, every nerve, every sensation shooting straight to your most erogenous areas— your cunt and your nipples. Talking seems like the farthest thing from your mind right now, too caught up in the way he roughly pushes the crop against your clit. A whimper rips itself from your throat, shuddering at the sensation. Unconsciously you jerk away from him, only to be scolded with another thwack against your quivering pussy lips. “A-Ahh,” you wail, squirming beneath him like a worm that can’t sit still. “Good— it feels good, Jungkookie,” you weep.

The soft mushy pet name has him raining down two snacks against you in quick succession. “No baby names,” he warns, frown evident in his voice.

Even with you completely under him like this, shackled and blinded with your love, something unmistakably childish and obnoxious curls around your throat, has you biting down on a grin as the coil in your stomach tightens. “D-Don’t like that, Jungkookie,” you choke out hoarsely, wildly bold for someone in your position. “D-Don't like being m-my baby?”

The crop loses its position over your folds, and for a minute you’re left anxiously anticipating its next touch.

It’s on the side of your breast, harder than the rest, combining with the already powerful pinch of the clamps. It makes you cry out painfully, stomach tightening at what is probably the most unexpected orgasm you’ve ever had. It isn’t like your usual ones that overpower you and make cum trickle out between your folds.

No, it comes in waves— literally. Your pussy spasms, pushes one splurt of cum out between your thighs, almost likes your lower lips are spitting it out. And then again, more the second time, against his mattress. He pushes your legs up to your chest to marvel at the cum coating your lips and thighs. “You’re my baby, stupid,” he hisses. He grabs at your clamps then, twisting the little chain in his hand harshly. You sob at the yank, at the way your nipples feel two seconds away from being ripped off. But you can’t even complain, because the sudden touch has your pussy clenching, before a final trickle of cum oozes out of you.

Even still, your mind babbles on. “N-No,” you choke, shaking back and forth. Despite the tie covering your eyes, they flicker like a mad man beneath it, like you’ll somehow get lucky and develop Seeing Through Fabric Ability if you try hard enough. “My, my baby,” you fight weakly, pelvis trembling from aftershocks of that orgasm. “My idiot b-boy,” you smile dazedly, eyes rolling into the back of your head at the sting you’ve become familiar with by now. “T-Tell me, Jungkookie,” you croon, biting down on your lip to keep a moan from spilling out mid-syllable. “Still the same, r-right?” you stutter, “still think you’re better than me, don’t you?”

He scoffs. “No,” he vehemently denies, brashly landing an unexpected smack against your hip, no warning in sight. “That’s not true,” he defends. You can hear his pout, the little push of his lips when he grows defensive.

You laugh, every bit the insane lunatic, fueled by your two orgasms and slipping sense of reality. “Ffffuck,” you whimper, rolling your hips up into nothing. “S-Say it again, baby,” you plead, tongue licking across your lips. “Tell me, tell me you don’t care about my problems, Kook-ah,” you whimper.

There’s a hesitant pause on his end, an unexpected lull in your play as he’s torn apart between doing what you want or playing it safe.

You know you’re confusing him, because you’re certainly confusing yourself. You don’t even bother trying to dissect your emotions— you’ve long since accepted your mind was a dangerous place when horny and presented with Jungkook’s sole attention. Well, you knew you were into the whole degradation bit, but this whole having-your-boyfriend-throw-the-words-that-made-you-question-your-entire-worth bit was certainly new and unexpected.

But there’s something in your heart (and in your libido) that needs this, needs him to fix this memory for you that maybe, kinda sorta, has haunted you for days, weeks now, as much as you hate to admit it. Needed him to fix the booboo he gave you with a bandaid, only leave a scar you could look back at and laugh off, not a gaping wound that opened at the slightest mention of it. Because while you forgave, you certainly never forgot*.

(*Unless forgetting meant having your boyfriend overwrite said memory that couldn’t be forgotten with the sheer power of his monster demon cock and wicked tongue. Only then could you forget.)

“Don’t be a fucking pussy, Jungkook,” you spit, feeling the hesitancy in the riding crop that brushes against your skin. It fades away quickly. “S-Say I’ve a dead-end office job; just holding you back,” you beg, trying to pretend the entirety of his little outburst hasn’t been ingrained into your mind for the last couple of weeks. Something flashes in your chest, throat closing off when the toy finally leaves your skin. “Tell me, tell me—“

He looms over you, teddy bear warmth covering the entirety of your body. “Is this what you want?” he asks seriously, lowly, breath fanning across your lips. Your makeshift blindfold feels distinctly damp over your eyes, chest heaving with an exertion that can only be emotional when he speaks so softly to you after routinely raining down brutal thwacks on you for the past half hour. “__,” he says sternly, “is this what you want?”

You gasp on a sob, unsure when these emotions had time to manifest outside your heart like this. You nod your head like a bobble head doll sitting on someone’s dashboard, lower lip trembling on a shameful cry that is not sex-induced like all the other ones until now. “I-I need this, Jungkook,” you admit, voice so tiny and soft, it almost gets drowned out by your shaky exhales and the crowd roaring on screen. “Need to overwrite it.”

He presses a soft kiss to your quivering lips, slow and so devastatingly loving. It’s nothing like the one from before where he’d spit down your throat per your request, and the unbridled adoration he packs into one simple kiss makes you crumble in his arms, sniffles piling on by the dozens.

He leans back after a moment, pulls your thigh over his forearm and finally lets you feel the hard ridges of his cock against your folds. “Stupid girl,” he huffs, trying to sound angry and annoyed, but there’s a lilting tone to his words, a love and trust you wouldn’t have been able to see with or without your blindfold, but can feel nonetheless. He pulls it off you anyway, the warm glow of the TV illuminating his face for you for the first time in about half an hour. Eyes soft, sweat trailing down his body. His body lines up against yours, but so does his heart. You feel it in the way he holds you in his arms, the way he’s careful about sinking into your folds. He slips an arm beneath your waist, uses it to hold you up so you’re not uncomfortably squishing your arms anymore. But if you ask, he’ll pretend he’s doing this for convenience sake only.

“T-Terrible fucking job,” he starts out, the stammer eluding the obvious discomfort he has saying those words, but he does it for you anyway. “Big fucking baby,” he tries again, slowly pushing past your tight walls with a shudder. “C-Can’t look away from you for two seconds because you’re such a fucking kid.”

“Worse,” you choke out. “Meaner. Please, Kook.”

He nods, holds your waist carefully when he finally bottoms out inside of you. “Dead-end office job,” he says, repeating the words that had made you want to crawl into a whole and never come out from. “Got some stupid fucking problems,” he tacks on, slowly withdrawing his hips from your heat. “Always complaining about the stupidest shit,” he hisses, fingers digging into your waist when it’s only the tip of his cock inside of you. “I don’t fucking care about it,” he seethes, forcefully snapping his hips into you.

They’re scrambled fragments of what he’d really said to you that night. Line after line that don’t carry a quarter of hurt or even make coherent sense for that matter. And still.

You whimper, mind fuzzy from the thrusting pace he picks up, body fluttering at the glide of his cock against your walls. But your heart is thundering in your throat, his willingness to help fix this memory for you tightening around your every being until you can’t breathe. “I-I love you,” you cry, clenching down around him.

Jungkook groans, pulls you flush against his cock until the thin hairs around the base of his cock are tickling your skin. “Stupid, fucking child,” he groans, “immature ass nobody,” he grunts, bucking into you like your words don’t mean a thing.

“I am, I am,” you wail, suddenly hit with the cold hard truth that your body was desperately on edge. From the stimulation your nipples had gotten all night, to the ghost of the riding crop that lingered across your skin; your body was tired, so ready for a final orgasm that you’re certain Jungkook will provide. “T-Tell me y-you—“

“Shut up,” he barks, sweaty skin gliding against yours. “D-Don't tell me what to do,” he huffs, nailing you into the bed. He’s pushing you hard into the mattress, like he wants to brand you into it. “Need to fix this— alone.”

You nod numbly, the crowd behind him cheering loudly. It’s like they’re rooting for him— for the two of you —as silly as it sounds, and as bothersome as it would be any other day, today the obnoxious sounds of the ESPN soccer match only serve to fix a bad memory from before. It’s loud and cringey as all hell, but you’ll look back to this moment and laugh.

And that’s what you want most of all. You want that memory from before, that nasty fight, to go away, to disappear forever and be replaced with this one. Of him, pounding you into the sheets as his TV blares beside you, just another day, another round of sex filled with your usual kinks. Nothing more, nothing less.

“Ffffuck,” you whine when the tip of his hard cock prods against your cervix. He’s going deep, he’s going all out, because he wants to fix this too. Wants to do anything to make it right, and he’ll never know how much you appreciate him for it. “S-So deep,” you whimper, hips jumping when he rams back inside.

“Stupid slut,” Jungkook snarls, tucking his head against your neck the same way he always does. “Making me do stupid shit like this,” he bites, but you know he doesn’t mean it, know he never will again. He rocks his hips into you, no longer concerned with holding you up from uncomfortably laying on your cuffed arms anymore as he pistons into your squelching heat. He’s pressed so close over you, lips brushing against your collarbone with each snap of his hips.

All the pushing and jostling about has the chain of your clamps wildly jumping about, sprawling across the planes of your chest, above your breasts, where he snatches it up between his lips again. “Stupid, fucking—“ he slurs, jutting his head to the side like a wild stallion. You sob at the tenderness of your nipples, at the way he pays them no mercy as he continues rutting into you like a mad dog in heat. “Slut,” he spits. “S-So fuckin’ pretty.”

Your mind is in another universe, and when that last word, that devastatingly familiar term, slips from his lips mindlessly, something inside you snaps. “N-No,” you sob, legs fidgeting around his waist at the orgasm that wracks through your body against your will. “No,” you cry in frustration, “didn’t, didn’t want—“

“Stupid, stupid angel,” he babbles, seemingly unaware of your orgasm as he continues fucking into your leaking cunt, ignorant of the cum that dribbles out, creams his cock as he carries on. “Fuck,” he pants, gnaws against the chain of the stupid clamps like he can’t bare this any longer. “Love you,” he says, though he’s still stuck in that mindset from before and his sweet confession sounds more like a threat. “L-Love that childish side of you,” he confesses, finally dropping the chain— much to your relief —and surging forward to kiss you on the mouth. He tastes weirdly metallic, a thought you can’t ponder too long as he continues ramming himself past your clenched lips and into your pussy. “Your fffucking dr-drive to succeed,” he grunts, mouth smushed uncomfortably against your cheek.

“Kook, sweetheart,” you shudder, sensitive pussy spent as he drills on. His cock is still so achingly hard, and he doesn’t seem anywhere near completion. “Take it easy,” you gently remind him, can’t brush your fingers through his hair like you usually would, so you settle for pressing your lips to his cheek.

“Fuck, fuck,” he heaves, pushing so deep you practically feel him in your womb, swollen mushroom head begging for entry. “Give me it all,” he stammers, “want you—want this forever.”

“I know you do, baby,” you coo, nuzzling your nose against his when he sloppily surges forward, panting and gasping over you like a crazed caveman. “I’m yours,” you gently remind him.

“No,” he chokes out hoarsely, eyes screwed shut. “Need more, all of it,” he mumbles. “Give me yourself, ___, need you for the rest of my life—“ he cuts himself off with a shuddered whine, so airy and wispy it makes you shiver. “Ffffuck, shit,” he howls, each thrust into your walls only unraveling him more and more. “Give me, give me—“

“Anything,” you whimper, body trembling from his excessivity. “What do you want, Kook-ah?”

He says nothing, losing himself in the warmth of your pussy as his orgasm rounds the corner. He’s in the final stretch, the final straight until achieving nirvana alongside you at the finish line. And, as you’ve long since come to understand, a true Jungkook Danger Zone. He loses all sense of self, random syllables and phrases slipping through his lips.

“Fuck, fuck, marry me— marry me,” he moans, snapping his hips into you with a ferocious speed that has you bouncing against the sheets, and that’s despite the tight grip his has on you. “Let me— fuck— let me fuck a baby into you, sweetheart,” he purrs, eyes shining like an absolute psycho, but you’re apparently into that because the idea squeezes around your chest and burrows it’s way in. “A baby,” he marvels like an idiot, eyes big and sparkly, “f-fuck.”

“Wh-What?” you choke, flinching when he bites down against your lower lip. He’s got you trapped beneath him, stuffing your brain with these ideas that make your heart enter cardiac arrest, body tingling like in Mario Kart when you’ve got the star power up. “Kook—“

“Sh,” he groans, digging his fingers into your sides as he rolls his hips against you. “Almost,” he informs you, but the blood rushes to your ears. “Oh, fuck,” he pants, jaw clenching, “oh, baby.”

Jungkook cums with a shivered cry, body hunching over you like some entity has just exited out of his spine. Maybe something did, because afterwards he manages to hold himself above you for exactly three seconds before dropping the entirety of his hefty muscles onto you. “Ouch,” you whine, wrists twisted uncomfortably beneath you.

“Sorry,” he huffs, completely out of breath and dazed as he rolls away from you. He ends up spread out like a starfish beside you, completely fucked out and definitely zooming through the fifth, sixth, and seventh dimensions.

He doesn’t say anything for a hot minute, chest rising and falling like he’s just run a marathon, until you butt in. “Kook. Undo me,” you remind him.

He looks over at you, dark hair falling over his eyes and sprawling around his head like a halo. Oh, he was going to be the death of you. “Oh,” he says, like his brain has just processed the information. “Right.” He sits up, tucking himself back into the shorts he never fully took off. That was his character flaw; never bothers to get completely naked during sex. Anyway, his straight male-equivalent of booty shorts come up around his thighs again, stretching sinfully across the thick muscles.

The five sonnet poem that was gearing up in your head comes to a halt when he touches your breast. “No, no more,” you cry, instinctively withering away.

Jungkook snorts. “I’m just taking them off, baby,” he says, reaching forward again with the same practiced ease you’d use on an animal. The clamps come off, all the nerves suddenly coming back to life. It’s a weird sensation, not having your tits subject to that prickling pain anymore, and it makes you moan softly. Jungkook soothes you with his wannabe masseuse hands, but you think it’s just an excuse for him to fondle your breasts.

“How’re you feeling?” he asks gently, hovering over you like a damned surgeon or something. His voice is so silky and smooth, hands soft against your chest. He’s so careful in the way he turns you over, somehow magically producing the tiny key pick you swore was lost between the sheets after its first use.

Being on your chest makes you tremble like a leaf, the faintest brush of the cotton against your tits enough to make your pussy clench weakly. “ I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he murmurs, carefully detailing his actions like you’re not watching him with your very own eyes. But it’s oddly comforting, having him walk you through the process of rolling your sore wrists. The inside of the cuffs had a plush lining, but it was a pretty cheap thing. After he’s done massaging the skin, he pads over to his dresser and returns with a shirt and undies for you. “Shirt,” he says, helping you into the clothing.

When you’re all snuggled under the sheets again, the television still loud as hell, he mumbles, “wanna talk about it?”

You exhale against his chest, feeling so light and fluttery from your orgasms and the way he runs his fingers through your scalp and the way his heart thunders by your ear. “Hm,” you hum pensively. “Nah. Think I’m fine now,” you admit.

Jungkook chuckles. “A full miracle recovery?” he teases. You nod, taking in the comforting scent of his fabric softener and just him in his entirety.

“Yep.” A beat of silence, the commentator is back to filling the space between you two. He talks about a mile minute, spewing stats and plays you could never understand in a thousand years. But you know Jungkook will get sucked in soon enough, so you strike while the pot is hot. “Do you wanna talk?”

He cranes his neck a little to look at you. “What do you mean?”

You roll your eyes, pushing yourself up to look at him straight on. “Oh, my mistake,” you drawl. “I seem to have missed the part where we were going to act like you didn’t just ask for my hand in marriage and then offered to get me pregnant—,” you pause, the realization suddenly hitting you like a trash can whipping down a hill on a rainy day at a thousand miles per hour. “Pregnant!” you exclaim, cheeks warm at the fact he really just said that to you.

Jungkook’s cheeks fare no better, a Flaming Hot Cheeto shade dusting his skin. “I, it was just…” he tries, poor tiny monkey brain working overtime to offer an excuse. “It-it doesn’t have to be a thing,” he blushes, big Bambi eyes flickering from you to the television to the heart-tipped riding crop by the foot of the bed. “I was just…”

You raise your brows. “Consumed by the spirit of King Henry IV to have fourteen kids?”

He blinks. “Wait, you actually paid attention to that film?”

“That’s not the point!” you exclaim, shifting onto your knees in front of him. “What,” you inhale sharply, heart beating wildly in your chest, “what was that?”

Jungkook can only play the shocked angel card for so long before he’s sinking back into his pillow stack with the sigh of a man who’s worked in construction for the last sixty-four years. “I just,” he mumbles, “I think about it sometimes.” His admission makes your heart lodge itself into your throat, wide eyes watching him spill out his heart to you.

He misreads the expression on your face. “I-Not now!” he hurries to explain. “Like,” he stammers, rosy hue slowly crawling down his neck, over his ears. “Maybe, y’know? In the future…”

You blink, brain reduced to a series of beeps and clicks like that of an old computer trying to compute information that is simply not processing. “Yeah…” you murmur, unsure of what to do with the film reel that suddenly flashes before your eyes, a look into a doorway you had never considered before. “I— me too.”

Jungkook chokes on his own saliva. “Really?” he yelps, has those sparkly anime girl eyes you always tease him about.

The gulp you do sounds loud in your ears. “Yeah,” you breathe, throat drier than the desert, but more confident than the first peabrain response. “I-I’d like that.”

There’s a bright beam of light that shines right in your face, so vibrant and dazzling it makes you flinch and by the time you’ve recovered you realize it’s his smile. “Yeah?” Jungkook mumbles back, pearly teeth framed by his pretty smile, brows raised at your stuttery confirmation. You nod. His lips twist into a smaller grin, a condensed version of the superstar one he gave you just moments before. Before you can brush it off with a joke, he’s snatching your hand up in his, a soft smooch pressed to your knuckles. “Okay,” he says quietly, dark eyes meeting yours. “One day?”

Your heart constricts in your chest, and all you can do is nod. “One da—“

“Goooooaaaaallllll!” the announcer on screen shrieks, the loud sounds of the TV killing your mood instantly.

Any dumbstruck, love struck, idiotic, ditzy expression on your face is wiped clean, replaced with an unimpressed glare you narrow on him. His nose is scrunched up like he wants to laugh, lips pressed into a thin line at your annoyance. He swipes the TV remote off the side table, arms spread open for you to crawl back into. You do so with a huff, pout smushed against the front of his hoodie.

“That’s enough ESPN for today,” he chuckles, switching the channel about a thousand times until Rick and Morty is playing on screen. “I’ll just watch the highlights later.”

“ESPN,” you scoff like an evil villain in a movie who’s just been presented with their mortal enemy, fisting the front of his hoodie.

Jungkook nods. “ESPN,” he repeats. A beat passes. “Kinda like BDS—“

“Go get your ice pack.”

epilogue

Because Jungkook couldn’t sit still for that one eventful night following his ladder injury, he ends up in a medical boot for one week, loudly clunking around the place like a reverse pirate. You snap a picture of him that you post on Twitter for your twelve followers to see, just him pouting at the doctor’s office with his new boot and club jersey on to celebrate last night’s victory.

It’s just a cute pic for you and your friends to laugh at.

Until it’s not, and his handsome face is circulating around the entire internet.

He’s being called the Face of FC Seoul, with desperate women messaging you left and right for his information. Other fans are bragging about the beauty that is an FC Seoul fanboy. It gets to the point where his face appears on the next night’s ESPN Nightly Recap, a special on social media stars posting about the game. Except Jungkook is neither a social media star nor did he even post about the game— you did.

But there he is, all five feet and ten inches of him smiling brightly at you from the ESPN Sports channel, wearing the boot he got from hand cuffing and whipping you to completion.

#goldenclosetnet #bangtanhq #networkbangtan #jungkook smut #jjk smut #jeon jungkook smut #jeongguk smut #jeon jeongguk smut #bts smut #mine

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javierpenaspinkshirt · 4 years

Text

A Hundred Questions.

Mando x Reader - One Shot

Warnings: it’s fluffy and it’s soft and it’s a lil bit sweet. Loose Star Wars lore. Brief mentions of death. Dodgy formatting.

Words: 5.2k (woah, right?)

Summary: Mando is a touch starved man who just wants to be loved send tweet.

A/N: I wrote this while I was meant to be writing several reports for work so if you enjoy this soft rambling lmk so I can tell my boss I didn’t waste my whole day.

A Hundred Questions

It had been 6 months, you worked out, since you had met the Mandalorian.

He had landed on Jakku for supplies, knowing it was on an old trade route but also knowing it was only a mere few years on from the battle that had finally seen the Empire fall. He had assumed it would be largely empty and fairly quiet and he was right.

Mando had docked the Razor Crest in one of the bays you were overseeing that day. You’d had to stop your jaw dropping when you had seen him walking down the ramp of his ship towards you. You had seen a lot in your life, but never a Mandalorian. He had sauntered over to you and tipped a few credits into your hand.

‘I need some rewiring done’ his voice was gruff and tired, ‘will this be enough to get it done before I return?’

You looked at the credits in your hand, it was more cash than you had seen in years.

‘Absolutely’ you replied, ‘I’ll have her like new in no time’.

He nodded and walked passed you to leave. You turned to watch him go only to see what looked like a large green ear sticking out of the backpack the Mandalorian was wearing. You knew Mandos were often bounty hunters so you thought nothing more of it, only that it was none of your business.

You did your job and fixed up the ship as best you could. Your dad had been a mechanic before the war. He’d taught you everything he knew and though you had groaned and whined at the time, you were so grateful to him now. You had lost both of your parents and your siblings in the Battle of Jakku a few years ago. You had only survived because you had been underground working in the mines as the battle had begun. You and your fellow miners had hidden and waited out the siege. Eventually you had resurfaced to learn that the battle had been won by the Republic, but the fighting continued on for months until the last Imp dropped.

Mercifully you had survived the onslaught, but not everyone in your company had had your luck. Though you used the term ‘luck’ loosely.

The Imperial forces had arrived on Jakku months before the battle ensued, and in that time they had terrorised the locals. Your existence was an insult to them and they would assault and even kill residents simply for being there. But when the the last one finally dropped you couldn’t bring yourself to celebrate. You were on your own, and you had to get off this planet.

You had spent years working as a mechanic in one of the few lasting ship ports and had saved as much money as you could. You were hoping to be able to afford a small ship just to be able to get the hell away from Jakku and find somewhere, anywhere, else to be.

So when the Mandalorian returned from his trip for supplies you figured you would try and rinse him for a few extra credits. Every little helps, right?

He was walking with purpose towards you and the Crest, bag stuffed full of supplies and a tiny green child, like nothing you had ever seen before, waddling behind him.

‘Is it done?’ He asked, stopping to stand beside you and admire your handy work.

‘Yeah all done no problem, but I’m going to have to charge you for parts’ you wiped your hands on your overalls and put your hands on your hips to look up at him, hoping it made you look important and serious.

‘I’m not paying for anything extra’ the helmet turned to look down at you, ‘I asked for wiring, nothing more’.

His voice was low and gravelly. It made your stomach flip and you lost your cool.

‘Hey you asked me to fix what I could and I did, this thing is gonna fly better than it did when it was built, mate! I need the money for parts!’

‘Absolutely not’ was the only response you received before he bent down to scoop up the strange green child who was cooing at his feet, and began to walk aboard the ship.

‘Wait!’ You called, running up the gang plank to catch him ‘please! Please I need this, please! You don’t understand’ the desperation caught in your throat as you ran passed him and stood in front of him to stop him walking up any further.

‘Please’ you lowered your voice and looked around to make sure none of the other mechanics, or god forbid the boss, could hear you pleading, ‘please, I have to get out of here, I need the money’.

You couldn’t see his eyes, but you knew the Mandalorian was staring you down, making a judgment of you and deciding whether you were worth his time.

‘What are you like with kids?’

Your eyes widened, ‘excuse me?’

He held the little green child close to his chest and looked down at him. The baby cooed at him and made a little grabby motion at the helmet.

‘Can you look after a child?’

The truth was you’d never met a child you liked. You had had several siblings before the war and as the oldest you had often been stuck babysitting, and rather than hone any kind of parental instinct you may have had it had dragged it behind the barn and shot it dead. You adored your siblings of course, and you missed them endlessly, but you would rather have been their sibling than their surrogate parent. Children were your nightmare, but if the small green boy was your ticket out of here… Then you guessed you were going to have to learn to like him.

‘I can’ you agreed, ‘but I’m not a glorified babysitter y’know, I’m a mechanic and a damn good one!’

‘I know, you would be a valuable crew mate. I don’t need a babysitter, I need a mechanic and someone I can trust around the child’, his helmet dropped to look at the baby again. If you could have seen his face you would’ve seen the smile spread across it as he looked down at his little foundling.

‘Trust is very important to me’ you explained, ‘I promise I wont let you down’.

The Mandalorian straightened and sighed, ‘go grab whatever you need and meet me back here in an hour. If you’re not here, I will leave without you’.

Your eyes widened and you darted off the ship calling out behind you that you’d be back soon.

That had been 6 months ago. Since then you had been travelling with Mando and the little boy and it was the freest you had ever felt. You’d fallen into comfortable routine with your time split between him piloting and securing jobs and you maintaining the old ship, keeping her flying and keeping her safe. You shared taking care of the child and, despite your initial reservation, you had fallen in love with the little creature. He was different to human children, he needed more supervision than care and was capable of moving himself around the ship with alarming speed. He’d often sit beside you, fiddling with bolts or some of your tools while you fixed things and he’d watch with those big inquisitive eyes as you grumbled about the mess the wiring was in or rambled on with stories of your childhood. He made you miss your siblings but you pushed those painful feelings aside whenever they arose, instead choosing to tell the little one stories of happy times with your family, especially your dad. He would smile and cock his head as you spoke to him.

Occasionally Mando would listen from the cockpit if you were close enough for him to hear. You never really spoke to him about your family… but that was largely because he didn’t ask. Usually you’d sit with him of an evening once the child was asleep. He’d be in the pilot’s seat and you would sit behind him and ask him a hundred mindless questions. Sometimes he’d answer, sometimes he’d just grunt, but he enjoyed the way your mind worked. He had explained to you early on about the rules about his helmet and he had been relieved when you had immediately respected them. You would make the occasional joke,

‘Bet you’re a gungan under there’ you’d smirk.

Like he hadn’t heard that one before. But he didn’t mind because it was you. You would ask him about his armour, about the creed, you’d even once asked about his family. He’d revealed that he was a foundling but nothing more. You had got the hint and stopped your questioning.

This evening was no different. Mando had secured a job on some outer rim planet you’d never even heard of and you were only an hour or so away from landing. The child had nodded off so you’d left him in the cot in the hull where the two of you usually slept, leaving the door open so you could hear if he stirred from the cockpit.

You resumed your usual position in the co-pilot’s chair and started your usual barrage of questions. Mando grunted at most of them and answered a few.

‘So tell me then, Mandalorian’ you crooned ‘when was the last time you took the helmet off?’

‘This morning’ was the typically blunt answer.

‘Okay but when?’

He spun round in his chair to look at you, beskar glinting, ‘this morning when you were feeding the child’.

‘I’m gonna have to get sneakier if I’m going to ever catch a glimpse of you aren’t I?’ you chuckled.

He let out a gentle exhale. He knew you were joking, he trusted you never to look as you promised you wouldn’t. But he still felt a well of anxiety when you’d joke.

You sensed you’d gone too far and backtracked, ‘sorry I shouldn’t have said that, I was only playing. I would never, Mando. I promise, I owe you my life I’m not going to be the one to ruin yours’.

He cocked his head to the left gently and you hoped it was because he was smiling.

The truth was you hadn’t ruined his life. You’d turned it upside down a little but he didn’t mind. After the events of the last year, protecting the child, having to go on the run, having to face down Moff Gideon and almost dying… being out here with you and his foundling was the escape he craved. He had mentioned Cara to you briefly but he offered no detail as to the origin of the child or any stories about what had lead him to arrive on Jakku and meet you.

He wasn’t ready to talk about it yet and he knew you understood. Though you could question him for hours about all sorts of inane crap, you were good at taking no for an answer.

But the one thing you would bring up consistently was his helmet. He knew you were curious. You wanted to know who the man under the Beskar was and he understood that. He got to look at you all day, see the way you smiled at the child or the way your brow furrowed when you were thinking. He got to see your body, clothed of course, but he got to see the way your hips swayed when you walked or the way the muscles in your arms worked when you were lying down trying to fix something on the ship. You hadn’t even seen the colour of his skin.

He wanted to show you more of him. He had slowly and cautiously admitted feelings for you to himself but he wasn’t ready to admit them to you yet. In the last month or so he had started putting his forehead against yours, especially before he went to bed. You would get up to go down to the hull to curl up with the baby while he would stay upstairs in the sleeping quarters behind the cockpit. But he’d make a point of gently pulling you to him and putting his forehead against yours for just a moment. You never questioned it but he could feel the way your body would tense when he held your arms and then relax as he gently tapped the helmet against you. He didn’t think you knew what this gesture meant and he wasn’t going to explain it. But he hoped you were getting the hint without him having to say anything.

He was still looking at you, waiting for your next question of the night when there was an almighty thump and the ship shuddered violently. Without thought or hesitation you were out of your seat and down the ladder into the hull. The little one had woken up at the jolt and squealed as you scooped him up and ran back up to the cockpit.

Another clang and all the lights bar the dashboard control and the dodgy LED emergency lighting went out. The cockpit was dark save for the blue lights of the dashboard and the child squealed again and clung to your clothes. You sat down in the co-pilot chair and hung for dear life, holding the child as tightly as you dared.

‘Hold on’ Mando commanded as he threw the ship around, dodging what you could now see were meteors and space junk flying at the Crest at alarming speed. The planet you were headed towards was well in view now and you hoped to gods that Mando could get you there without doing too much more damage to the ship.

A few more minor knocks and a few hisses from the engines and Mando managed to land on a baron plain, covered with what must be ash, with no sign of a moon or sun and a dark cloud swelling.

‘This… is where the job is?’ You looked out of the window, holding the child up so he could see where his father had almost crash landed you.

‘Yes. Sorry I shouldn’t have taken my eye off the controls… the meteors knocked the lights and the heat out’ He flicked a few switches but to no avail and slumped back in his chair.

‘Can you fix it?’ He turned the chair to look at you.

‘I can but not until morning, its dark and I wont be able to see properly even with a flashlight. I’d have to go outside to see the damage but if I’m honest I don’t really wanna do that tonight… even with you standing guard’.

Mando agreed and stood up, ‘it’s going to be too cold for you and the kid in the hull tonight, you’ll have to stay in my quarters’.

A lump caught in your throat, ‘with you?’ You hadn’t meant for it to sound quite as eager as it did but it was out there now.

‘No’ was the matter of fact reply, ‘I’ll be here, I can sleep in the chair.’

‘No way, Mando, if you’re going on a job tomorrow you need to sleep, you can have the child in your room, I’ll stay here’ you stood up to make a point.

He sighed. The baby whimpered gently, he was cold. You held him close and wrapped him in the cloak you were wearing. It used to be an old cape Mando wore but it had been ripped and was way too short for him. You adopted it and patched it up and proudly wore it everywhere, it was your little piece of him. Now you used it to wrap the little one tightly to try and warm him.

The temperature outside was freezing and without the heat in the ship you would all be feeling the cold in no time.

Mando finally stirred, ‘I have an idea.’

You looked at him as he sunk down on to his haunches in front of you. He took hold of the loose end of the cape you were holding the baby in and took a knife from his boot. He cut a small length from the cape and held it out to you.

‘Take this. Go into my room, get the baby settled and get yourself comfortable. Then put this over your eyes and call for me’ he was so matter of fact about it that you didn’t question it, just did as you were told.

You had never actually been in Mando’s sleeping quarters before. It was a small room, no kind of decoration or homely nature to it, classic Mando. There was a single cot in the corner against the wall that you assumed he would make you sleep on, you knew him well enough not to fight him on that. You put the baby down on the floor, still wrapped in your cloak. His eyes were drooping and he was gently cooing to himself.

‘Getting sleepy, little one? You can sleep here, I’ll get you your blankets and we’ll make you a nice bed, yeah?’ You spoke to him softly and he lifted his little hand to you. You took his hand and gave it gentle kiss before zipping down to the hull to grab the blankets the two of you usually shared. It was freezing in the hull and you were grateful to Mando for insisting you slept in his room.

You went back to his quarters and swaddled the baby tightly. You put him on the floor at the foot of the cot so you could still hear him if he woke up but wouldn’t squish him or accidentally kick him out of the small bed in your sleep. He drifted off as you were positioning him comfortably, you thanked your stars.

You had grabbed a long tunic from the hull and changed into that, discarding your clothes and boots on the floor. You felt the cold and dived under the thin covers on the cot and put the makeshift blindfold over your eyes.

‘I’ve got the blindfold on’ you called, a slightly inappropriate thought raced to the front of your mind but you shoved it back before any damage was done.

You heard the door open and close and the gentle thud of Mando’s boots on the floor. The room was completely dark save for one small port hole on the far wall. You probably didn’t even need the blindfold, you couldn’t have seen him anyway! But you knew the blindfold helped his peace of mind.

You sat in the bed as you listened to the delicate, dull thuds of pieces of beskar being removed. You tried to guess what was what by the weight of the thud but you gave up after the third piece. Finally the quite clanging stopped and a heavy silence hung in the air.

‘You promise me you wont take that blindfold off?’ His voice was still modulated, the helmet still on.

‘I promise’.

There was a gentle hiss and a click and a quite thunk as he put the helmet down on the floor. You heard him move closer to you then drop what you guessed were blankets on the floor. You could hear him shuffling around, laying one blanket on the floor then covering himself with the other. He was still at last.

‘Good night, Mando’ you whispered into the blackness.

No response but an un-gloved hand reached up from his makeshift bed on the floor and gently squeezed yours.

Your whole body tingled. You couldn’t see him, or anything at all for that matter, but that was the first skin to skin contact you had ever had with your usually beskar-clad hero. You placed your other hand on top of his and squeezed back. That was enough for him and he removed his hand and you heard him wriggle a little until he was silent again.

What you didn’t know was that his heart was racing. He hadn’t felt the touch of another person for longer than he cared to count and it was all the more wild that it was you he had finally been able to touch.

But the memory of the last time he had had his helmet removed haunted him and clouded the joy he so wanted to feel. The flashbacks came occasionally; the explosion, the ringing in his ears and the blood. He’d had to tell Cara to take the child and to run for their lives. He had laid there in the rubble and dust, smoke filling the air and a droid, that would later go on to sacrifice itself for him, standing over him reasoning as to why it should take his helmet off.

In the end he had relented and allowed it to and IG had saved his life. But the trauma of the whole ordeal was still too fresh to ignore and lying on the cold floor of his room, completely exposed without any of his armour was almost too much to bear.

He wanted to sit up and slide himself into bed next to you and hold you, if for nothing more than comfort. He’d been alone for so long and suddenly he had a foundling, a family of friends, and a crew mate he wished was more than just crew. It was a lot to take in but you were pretty good at calming his nerves when he needed it. There had been a few instances when bounties had proven to be tougher than expected but you had always been there waiting for him to return, somehow knowing all the right things to say but you had never dared reach out and touch him, fearing it would offend or upset him. Really it was what he wanted most.

Sensing the restless body on the floor beside you you attempted to reach out and feel where he was. Your icy cold hand made contact with his bare shoulder and he hissed and shot away from you.

‘Shit sorry I didn’t realise you were so close!’ You whispered, trying your best not to laugh but a small snort escaped you and you clasped your hand over your mouth to prevent another.

‘What are you? Part Trandoshan? You must be cold blooded!’ his response was sharp but there was humour in it.

‘Trandoshan? Tall, fearsome, not a fan of Wookiees? You got me’ you giggled quietly again but stopped abruptly when you realised that was the first time you had ever heard his voice un-modulated.

You could hear him breathing slightly heavily from the shock and you took in every breath not knowing whether you would ever hear it without the helmet again.

He settled back down and calmed himself. The shock of the freezing hand on his arm had shaken him from his rapid thoughts of lava tunnels and enemy fire and left his heart racing again.

‘Are you really that cold?’ He whispered up at you.

You nodded but realised he couldn’t see you and rolled over so you were on your front looking down at him, ‘I’m from a desert planet, I don’t do cold! But I’ll be fine once I’m asleep’.

Mando formulated a plan but first he quietly sat up to look at the foot of the bed. He moved to his hands and knees silently and knelt down as he touched his hand to the child’s sleeping forehead. He felt warm enough, safely enveloped in the blankets you had wrapped him in and happily snoring in deep sleep. Mando smiled to himself.

Then, before you could ask a question or protest, Mando pushed you over to the edge of the cot and against the wall. His hands were warm as he gently scooted you over and awkwardly fumbled with the covers as he got in beside you. He was trying to be as quiet as possible but the bed frame creaked, only used to having to support one body.

‘You’ll wake the kid!’ You hissed.

He shushed you and flipped you so that your back was against his torso. He slipped an arm under your neck and draped the other over your ribs and pulled you tight against him. He reached up with the arm under your neck and gently checked the blindfold was still in place.

You smiled at his abundance of caution ‘it’s still there’, you reassured him ‘not that I could see you without it anyway, it’s so dark’.

He huffed gently and put his arm back down and held you close to him.

He was bare chest but radiating heat like a small thermal oscillator. You sunk into him not wanting to cause too much of a fuss in case you put him off and he went back to the floor. But you desperately wanted him to talk to you. You wanted to hear his voice and see what he sounded like when he laughed and you desperately wanted to know what he looked like. You knew you couldn’t see him and you wouldn’t ask to, but maybe you could feel him?

You began to wriggle as slowly as possible to avoid the bed squeaking too much and rolled yourself over so that you were lying on your other side, face to face with Mando. You made sure the blindfold was in place and put your hands down in the small gap between your bodies so as not to touch him with them and startle him with the cold again.

He still had an arm under your neck and the other now gently traced circles on your back.

‘Mando?’ you began.

He grunted back at you and you had to stifle another laugh. Even in the most intimate moment you’d ever shared his immediate response was to grunt at you.

‘Mando… can I touch you? Is that allowed?’

His breathing hitched and you felt him shift ever so slightly and you feared you’d done exactly what you were afraid of and crossed a line.

He moved his arm from your back and took your hands in his. His one hand was big enough to envelop both of yours and you had to smother another inappropriate thought before it blossomed.

‘Not until these are warmer’ he whispered giving your hands a squeeze.

You beamed at him and you hoped he could see you even just a little bit to know how happy you were at the possibility of actually being allowed to touch your Mandalorian’s skin.

He couldn’t see you, but your faces were close enough that he could feel the way you sucked in air in an excited gasp as he said it and he was sure you were smiling at him.

He carefully brought your hands up to his chest and rested them there, letting go and returning his hand to your back and pulling you closer still so that your bodies were touching, his chin resting carefully on the crown of your head.

You spent a few moments just taking in everything you could about him. His skin was soft but scarred. You traced scars and old wounds across his back and his chest. His shoulders were tough and knotted, muscular but tired from carrying the weight of the beskar pauldrons every day since he was little. Every scar told a story and maybe one day you’d be allowed to see them, not just feel them, and you’d be able to ask a hundred questions about how and where… but for now you just gently dipped your fingers into every mark that made him who he was.

You moved up to his neck and felt his heart rate racing as your hands edged closer to his face. You stopped just below his jaw and shifted your head up to look at him. As was normal to you now, you couldn’t see his eyes so you just stared where you hoped they were.

He gave you a timid nod and you breathed in hard as you slowly moved your hands up to his jawline. There was stubble, maybe a few days worth. You wondered if he shaved often? His jawline was sharp and defined, you had imagined it as such. You gently moved your fingers along it, taking in every dip of his mandible that indicated an old injury, every mark you could feel that could have once been a wound, and enjoyed the knowledge that even a proud warrior couldn’t always be bothered to shave.

You left one hand at his jaw and moved the other up his cheek, stroking it gently with your thumb, and moved across to his nose. It was pronounced but fitted the shape of his face beautifully. You would have to imagine how striking his side profile must be. There was a scar across it and little ridge at the bridge that suggested that maybe it had been broken once. You weren’t going to ask now.

You carefully traced a thumb over his closed eye, his eyelashes long and his eyebrows unkempt but not wild – a little like him maybe. You moved up his forehead, more scars and bruising, you wondered exactly how much good that helmet did him. Finally you found his hair and you ran your hand through it and pulled ever so slightly. It was longer than you imagined but not so long that he didn’t care for it. The fact it was at the length it was meant he must cut his own hair, that was enough to pull a smile out of you.

He felt you smile against him and he winced slightly, afraid you were laughing at his messy hair or his bruised face. You rubbed your other hand against his jaw.

‘What colour is you hair?’ The question was tentative, walking on thin ice and unsure how far was too far.

‘Brown’ he whispered, the bass in his voice making your soul leap a little.

You moved your hand back down to his eyelid, ‘and these?’

‘Also brown’ the whisper was even quieter now.

‘Mando, I think you’re beautiful’ you said it as sincerely as you could. You meant it.

He didn’t respond, just lay there still as anything, holding you against him.

You rested your palm on his cheek, feeling the stubble under it as he moved his head to look down at you. He put his forehead against yours as delicately as he could.

You could have stayed there for a hundred years. Wrapped in his arms, his forehead pressed to yours, feeling his breathing slow as his heart rate settled, his skin against yours.

But he moved, and you were afraid that was the end until he took his hand from your back and used it to tilt your chin up towards his face.

You felt his lips against yours and it was like an explosion had been let off inside you. It was tentative and cautious but he held your chin firm, not wanting you to move away from him. His lips were soft, a little chapped, but so undeniably him. Firm but inviting, hesitant but wanting.

He moved his hand to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, being careful not to knock the blindfold and broke the kiss. He put his forehead back against yours and stroked your cheek with his thumb.

You put your hands back on his chest and lay still with him. He would kiss you again but he would need a minute first. And that was fine by you. This was unchartered territory for him and you would give him as long as he needed. There would be time for a hundred questions later.

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #din djarin #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #mando #the mandalorian fanfic #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin fic #the mandalorian fic #pedro pascal #a hundred questions #the mandalorian fanfiction #dyn jarren #the mandalorian imagine

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jadethest0ne · 3 years

Text

In need of Refueling, Chapter 6 - Back-up

Summary: “You?! Why would I trust you? You have brought me nothing but failure. Time and time again; nothing but disappointment!”

His father’s words might have been a result of his possession by the White Bone Spirit, but whether or not they were his true thoughts, Red Son vows to prove them wrong. To do so he seeks to attain a power strong enough to destroy his father’s immortal enemy. After all, he’d much rather throw fire at his problems.

Word Count: 1548

Ratings/Warnings: Teen and up; injury, burns, angst and hurt/comfort, toxic thoughts caused by toxic parents, Panic Attacks (this one was just added)

Notes: I'm not sure if it was clear or obvious, but I'm writing this story as if this is all the characters' first in-person encounter with The True Fire of Samadhi - including Wukong. I know many people include The Fire in his backstory, but I'm creating a kind of canon-divergent timeline for this story - both for LMK and JTTW. At the very least, I'm keeping Wukong's backstory ambiguous since we don't know much about how LMK will interpret it.

Credits: Big thanks to @painted-arachnid and @simplyfornardo for helping me bounce ideas off of them. And also thanks to @lemonsqueazie for providing me with “Journey to the West” lore. I don’t know much about the original novel or other iterations, but I still tried to keep some things compliant with the lore. You should check all of them out, since they’re really great content creators with neat ideas!

Read on AO3

———-

MK sees the fire begin to consume the Monkey King. He tries to say something to his mentor. Plead. Shout. Anything. But no words come out. His breath is knocked out of him as Monkey King does some weird motion with his arms, and suddenly MK is thrown through the air at a rapid speed. There’s a ringing in his ears and he feels wetness on his cheeks. The ringing becomes louder, until he realizes that it is his own voice yelling. Another voice breaks through the noise.

“Kid!”

Monkey King? MK thinks; hopeful.

“Kid!” the voice repeats. “MK!”

MK blinks the tears out of his eyes and sees a pink chubby snout cross his vision.

“...Pigsy?”

The noodle shop owner breathes a sigh of relief, but his face is still shadowed with deep concern. “MK! Are you okay?! What happened?!”

Mr. Tang’s bespectacled head pops into view. “We found you in a crater in front of the noodle shop. It’s a wonder you are still alive,” he says pushing his glasses up his nose, reflected light blinking off of them.

“Yeah! It was a pretty epic crash!” MK’s heart lightens a bit further, seeing his best friend, Mei join the other two.

But anxiety once again takes hold of his heart. ‘What happened?’ MK leaps out of what he now recognizes as his bed, nearly butting heads with Pigsy, who was hovering closest to him. He wobbles on his feet, head swimming slightly, having gotten up too fast. Pigsy helps steady him, and MK grasps at the pig’s shirt. “Monkey King! He-he’s in trouble! I gotta- I gotta help! He-- Red Son came! DBK has him-- I -- I think- he’s hurt! He tried to protectmeandI I- gotta- I need to go--.” The words spill out too fast. He’s not sure he’s making sense. Everything seems to spin together and it feels like his whole body is buzzing with energy. His breath hitches and he feels like he’s choking--

“Hey there, MK! Slow down. Breathe!” Mei puts both of her hands on either side of his face and gently pulls his head so only she is in view. She places her hands over his ears, filling them with a soft static sound. Her eyebrows are tilted in concern, but her smile and voice are carefree and calm. He focuses on the muffled white noise and on her.

MK takes a couple of fast, hiccupy breaths, before he begins to breathe deeper, and slowly calms down. Mei waits a few beats before taking away her hands and asking, “Can you tell us what happened, but slower this time? We’re here for you, dude!”

MK blinks a couple of times and pulls in a longer, deeper breath before nodding slightly. He wipes away the wetness under his eyes and begins.

“I- I saw Red Son. He- he was going to Flower Fruit Mountain. And he wanted to get to the Monkey King. He-- he had this weird new power. He said he wanted to defeat Monkey King and bring him to DBK.”

“Beat the Monkey King?!” Pigsy gave an incredulous look. “He couldn’t have been serious!”

MK shivers a bit at the memory. “Yeah, but he was different this time! The fire he had was blue, and was really strong. He-- I-- I got in the way, and Monkey King-- I think he got the Monkey King-- Why would he send me away like that if it weren’t serious!” MK’s breaths come quicker, but before he can start hyperventilating, Mr. Tang puts a grounding hand on his shoulder and squeezes slightly to get MK to focus on him.

MK looks to the scholar who has an unreadable expression. He asks cautiously, “Can you describe the power he had? That blue fire?”

“Um…” MK tries to focus on what it was like and not on his last view of it as it swirled around his mentor. “It-- it was blue,” he repeats. “It lit the beach - the water on fire! The Monkey King could ward it off, but not put it out.”

“What was it called? Did it have a name?” the scholar prods.

MK nods as he recalls Red Son shouting a name out loud. “The True Fire of… somebody…?”

“The True Fire of Samadhi?” Mr. Tang prompts.

MK nods more vigorously. “Yeah! That was it!”

“Hmm…” Mr. Tang puts a hand over his mouth, eyebrows knit together. “That actually may be a real problem.”

“How?” Pigsy asks. “The Monkey King’s immortal, ain’t he? And MK said he could repel it. How could fire hurt someone like dat?”

Mr. Tang sighs, lips pursed as he chooses his words carefully. “The True Fire of Samadhi is not a natural fire. Like MK said, it can’t be extinguished by normal methods. And…” He hesitates with his next words, eyes flicking over to MK and back to Pigsy. “And… it’s one of the few things that could potentially cause harm to an immortal like the Monkey King.”

The silence that follows is almost too much. Or maybe there wasn’t silence and MK had just stopped hearing. So he was right. The Monkey King was in trouble and--

“It’s my fault,” MK whispers. He can feel the other three staring at him. He forces his gaze downward. Tears build up and drip at his feet. “It’s my fault!” he says more loudly. “I let Red Son trick me into leading him there! I distracted Monkey King! I got in the way, and he- he took a hit for me! If it weren’t for me then-”

“Then Red Son would’ve found another way to get to him,” a gruff voice finishes sternly.

MK looks up to Pigsy, tears still dripping. “But- but I got in the way. If I hadn’t been there, if it hadn’t been for me-”

“Then we wouldn’t have this information to help the Monkey King now.” Pigsy again, does not let him finish that train of thought. He gives MK a determined but gentle gaze. “It is NOT your fault MK. And we ARE gonna do somethin’ about this! Together!”

“Right!” Mei chimes in, wrapping an arm lightly around MK’s upper back, not quite grasping, but letting him know it’s there. “If the Monkey King is in trouble, we’re going to help him get out of trouble!”

“Tang, you got any more info on dat fire?” Pigsy turns to the scholar.

“I’ll have to dig out some old books and scrolls, but I’m sure I do,” Mr.Tang affirms.

“Good! We can also get some back-up from Sandy.” Pigsy turns to Mei. “Mei, you stay here with MK, while we get the big guy!”

Mei nods in response.

MK’s nerves settle a bit at the support from his friends, but a pit of fear still bubbles in his stomach. “I can’t let you guys do that! What if the fire gets you, too! I have to--”

“YOU will stay here,” Pigsy points a stern finger at MK, “and wait until we get back. We’ll go together to DBK’s lair.”

MK shrinks a bit under the intense glare of his boss. But Pigsy’s face and voice soften. “We’re not gonna let you do this alone. And I am not gonna let you get hurt by that fire either. Okay?”

MK’s shoulders sag in defeat, but he nods.

“Good! Now sit here until we get back,” Pigsy says, guiding him to sit back on the bed, before leaving with Mr. Tang.

It’s difficult for MK to just stay there and sit down. His body still feels like it is buzzing. He needs to move, to do something. As he watches his two pseudo-caretakers leave, he only becomes more anxious; not only with the worry from before, but with the dread of waiting. The energy bubbles up and he squeezes the edge of his bed with enough strength to cause the wood to crack. But he pays no mind to that. The Monkey King could be in DBK’s clutches already. He needs to go. Now! Seconds before he feels as if he’s going to literally shoot out of his seat, the mattress shifts as the weight of his friend sitting next to him is lifted.

“What are you doing?” MK asks the girl.

Mei simply strolls over to the window, opens it, and puts one foot on the ledge leading out to the fire escape.

“You are obviously going to go after him on your own. So I’m coming with. Duh!” She looks at him like it’s the clearest thing in the world. Which, to be honest, it is.

“I can’t let you do that,” MK attempts, but he knows it is a losing battle.

Mei knows this, too and gives him a smirk. “Come on. Either I make sure you stay here like Pigsy says, or I’m coming with you. And since you’re going to go either way, I’m definitely not leaving your side. Ever.” Mei hardens her gaze, all the while keeping a playful smile around her lips.

MK can’t help but smile back. “All right, let’s do this.” He gets up off of the bed and joins her by the window.

“Together!” Mei holds up a hand.

MK grasps it in his own. “Together!”

They both leap out of the window.

start || <– previous // next –>

#lmk #lego monkie kid #red son #mk #in need of refueling #pigsy #tang #mei #panic attacks #jadethest0ne #jadethestone #fanfiction #my writing

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mybiasisexo · 3 years

Text

What Happens in the Dark

Genre: Angst | Vampire!au

Pairing: Baekhyun x Reader

Length: 4.6k

Warning: unfinished | 1st person (final product won't be I swear)

Summary: You were just trying to survive, but that get’s difficult after running into the wrong guys on your way home from work. Luckily, your knight in shinning armor came to rescue you, but as the saying goes ‘never trust a man in leather pants and a particularly pointy-toothed smirk’. Wait, that’s not the lyrics to Poison??? Hmm....

Author’s Note: Do any of yall remember back in October of ‘19 (yike) when I said I was going to write a vampire!bbh fic and never did?? Cause I do. But, wait, what is this??? A chaptered vampire!bbh fic??? Yes, you heard me right. I decided to turn it into a series (?) and hopefully will get my head out of my ass long enough to give it the attention it needs so I can post it during the dark holiday. For now, here’s what I have written so far, enjoy!!! (And yes, that’s the title, bb we going ✈️ kokokrazy, mmkay???)

MASTERLIST

(couldn't find the credit for the gif, if anyone knows please lmk, thanks!!)

I take a deep breath and hold it for a brief moment, deluding myself into believing that the lack of oxygen to my brain will bring me courage as I stare through the glass of the front door of my job at the book store. In the distance, the sun glows red as it dips into the horizon, dragging the light with it. It will be dark soon.

I let out the breath slowly through my mouth.

I don’t mind closing, I live close enough to my job that I can walk the few blocks to my apartment. The only time it is a problem is on the weekends. I work downtown, right next to a few night clubs, and walking past those on a Saturday—which is today—makes me anxious. It’s bad enough I am a foreigner, so I grab people’s attention easily, but add alcohol to the mix… the lack of inhibitions frightens me.

But it is time to go.

I reluctantly open the door and enter the chaos that is the city. Cars zoom past and people head to their respective destinations without a care in the world. I lock the building behind me and clutch my messenger bag closer to my stomach, playing with the frays of the strap distractedly as I make the journey to the safety of my home.

It is about a fifteen-minute walk, and any other day I wouldn’t blink twice about the trip, but as the sun continues to disappear, the city begins to spark with it’s night life.

Soon, the nightclub I have to pass appears. I hold my breath as I speed past, keeping my face forward to keep attention off of myself, but that isn’t the worst part of my journey.

I turn into the alley next to the club, my pace nearly a sprint as I try to get through the shortcut as quickly as possible, but my feet stutter to a shuffle when I notice a dark figure ahead of me.

It is around 10pm, and as much as I worry about it, I don’t expect the club to be that busy—being how early it is. I’ve made this late night trek a handful of times, I was always left anxious, but unscathed.

Something isn’t right this time.

I slow my walking, but continue nonetheless, I have to get home.

As I close in, apprehension thick in my throat, the shadow separates to reveal two bodies, long lean torsos and head’s pressed close together, deep voices quietly speaking.

My footsteps echoe in the quiet night air and they finally notice me. Stopping abruptly, and in eerie synchronization, they turn their heads from the huddle they are in to face me. They’re tall, much taller than I originally thought, although it is difficult to see with the dim lighting. They stand on the opposite side of a light post. They are dressed well, which I expect if they are party goers. But, it is obvious that the dark jeans, silky button downs, and gold rings and chains wrapped around their necks cost a pretty penny. Their dark hair is styled to perfection, the separate styles fitting their face shapes.

Why are two men that are definitely out to be seen huddled in a dark alley?

“Uh….” I grow nervous as the silence stretches. Their piercing eyes leave me frozen in place and I am overwhelmed with the feeling something is askew or that coming down this particular alley was a mistake. I quickly rack my brain for something to say so that I can be on my way, but am left blank.

I gulp despite my dry throat and open my mouth to say…anything, really, but then the two share a look before hovering over me, pressing me against the cool red brick of the outside of the club.

“What did you hear?” One of them, who has wide eyes and short black hair that is gelled back to reveal the manly features of his face, snarls.

“No—nothing!” I am quick to assure.

The other, who’s hair is longer and framing his face, tilts his head. “Her heart is racing. Are you nervous, Kitten?”

I am. There is something about their energy that fills me with dread, makes me want to scurry away without a further glance back and go home immediately.

“Come on,” the former, who’s voice I feel in the pit of my gut with how deep it is, coaxes alluringly. My eyelids flutter and my balance is off, feeling lightheaded all of a sudden. “Tell us what you heard and I promise, we won’t hurt you.”

“I already told you,” I push, finding words difficult to punctuate. It is as though I am fighting a deep sleep, eyes practically closed as I put all of my weight against the wall to hold myself up at this point. “I didn’t…hear…anything.”

One of them snarls—my eyes are sealed shut, so I am not sure which it was—and a shockingly cold hand grips my chin. I gasp, eyes springing open from the shock of pain as his dull nails dug into my skin.

“We didn’t want to do this,” the first talker, who is the one currently holding me, growls, not seeming particularly remorseful in the slightest. His huge eyes are blown out and I am captured by the frightening depths of his pupils. They are bottomless and it feels like I am on the edge about to slip into a never-ending fall.

“Chanyeol, stop.” A new third party urges monotonously. I didn’t hear him enter, but I am kind of distracted at the moment, trying not to think about the fact I might be murdered in an alley.

The Chanyeol fellow smirks crookedly, eyes never leaving mine as he speaks. It’s unnerving. The man doesn’t even blink as he holds my gaze. “She overheard everything.”

“No, she didn’t. You’re just hungry.”

The guy beside Chanyeol sighs as if bored, folding his arms across his chest and flicking some of the bang away from his eyes. “And so what if we are?”

The third man barks a laugh. “Well, you’re wanted inside, Sehun. Both of you. You can conspire in there.”

“We’re almost done here,” Chanyeol replies, distractedly. His grip on me has loosened some, but not enough for me to try and break out and make a run for it. Instead of his nails digging into me, he is now caressing the corner of my lip with his thumb. “We’ll meet you inside.”

I have a sinking feeling I’m not going to see the inside of that club anytime soon.

The newcomer joins our little party, finally coming into my eye line. He is about a head and a half shorter than the twin towers before me, but holds just as much, if not more, authority in his broad shoulders. He’s dressed similarly to the other two, but his eyes are an approachable chocolate brown, instead of the inhuman glittery black I’ve been trapped by.

“I bet you have places to be.” He addresses me, voice soothing and calm.

I nod frantically, wanting to be out of this situation.

“Let’s go.”

He reaches out to me, probably for me to hold on to, but Sehun swipes his hand away before he can fully stretch it out to me. “She’s ours.”

The shorter guy’s jaw jumps irritably. He definitely isn’t happy about being touched. “She is not.”

With that, he lurches forward, getting into a fight with Sehun. It happens so quickly, I nearly get whiplash from the drastic change of the man. Their moves are fast, I can’t keep up with what is going on, it is as if they are a blur.

Chanyeol uses the distraction to tilt my head back, making me stare at the indigo sky, twinkling lights beckoning me to join them.

“I’ll be quick,” he assures, voice raspy with want and low from focus. He closes in, lips a whisper against my sweaty neck and I wonder if he is going to kiss me. Wonder what torture I am going to endure.

I never find out.

He curses as he is yanked away and I shift my head back down to see what is happening, but can’t comprehend anything. Shadows moving against darkness and animalistic growls and snarls, things that didn’t belong in this setting.

A flash of white is in front of me and I scream. It can’t be helped. My heart races, adrenaline kicking in as the whole situation finally dawns on me.

“You’re okay.” Someone bends down to crouch in front of me—I guess I slid down to the ground at some point—and brings their face closer, into the spotlight of the full moon high above us, revealing his dainty features.

It is the third man that had stepped in.

“You’re safe now,” he assures.

“Those… those men.” My voice is shaking and I have to pause to swallow and steady myself. In fact, my whole body is shivering and it isn’t from the cold.

“They’re gone.” His voice is grounding, his words relieving. I let out a breath and press my lips together, feeling a tad nauseous. I check the narrow alley to confirm that they have indeed vanished into the night.

“You saved me.” I realize, taking him in with wide eyes.

The right side of his mouth lifts and he tilts his head to the side. “Would you like to go home?”

“Please,” I nearly beg, wanting that most of all. I feel exposed for some reason, feel as though I am still in danger as long as I am outside. What if those strange men decide to come back? I shiver at the thought.

“Cold?” He questions. His almond shaped eyes take in my curled body, his eyebrows furrowing in a pout. “Do you have a coat?”

“I didn’t need one,” I say with a small shrug. “I was supposed to be home by now.”

His expression is fixed on disapproval. “I left mine inside. I’ll run in and get it real quick and then walk you home.”

He goes to stand and I panic, my arms shoot out to latch onto his arm, trapping him in an awkward squat. “Don’t leave me out here!”

“Alright.” He pats one of my hands that dig into the thin material of his shirt, most likely leaving crescent marks into his flesh, although he doesn’t seem to be in any discomfort or pain. “We can go in together. Does that work for you?”

“Are they in there?” I ask in a whisper.

He shakes his head. “Even if they are, they won’t do anything as long as I’m with you. I’m sure of it.”

I take in his angelic face. He really is beautiful in a sweet boyish kind of way and I wonder briefly how old he is. It is almost comical, because he’s definitely going for the whole ‘bad boy’ look, what with his leather black pants, rose red button down, and smokey eye. Despite that, I truly feel safe with him there, feel that he will be my white knight and get me home unharmed.

“Okay. I’ll go with you then, Sir.”

“’Sir’?” Now he smiles, full pink lips stretch into a shape of a box revealing the loveliest set of teeth I have ever seen. A soft breeze hits at that moment, tousling the already messy, slightly curled, dark brown hair around his head and, despite myself, my breath catches. He chuckles lowly, the sound causing saliva to flood my mouth. “My name is Baekhyun. What’s yours?”

I waste no time telling him, needing him to know who I am.

He repeats it, making sure he gets it right and I want to curse my hormones for being so affected when my life was on the line only a few minutes ago.

“Well,” he takes one of my hands that still holds onto him into one of his, causing me to shiver from the crisp velvety texture of his skin on mine. “Let’s get you home.”

We slip into the club without any trouble, the security doesn’t even card me. It is as if, just being in Baekhyun’s presence allows me an in. I gaze at him in awe as we maneuver through the slightly crowded entrance towards coat check, but he doesn’t notice—either that, or he is pretending not to. He leans against the square glassless window, broad back exposed to the rest of the club, waiting calmly for his jacket. I lean against the wall, taking in everything I can through the haze and saturated lights, making sure I am clear from the other men I had the displeasure of meeting.

“Ready?” Baekhyun asks, drawing me out of my search and I find my body untensing with his close presence. I bring my attention up to him, his head is cocked slightly, an eyebrow raised in a question. I nod in affirmation and take the lead, with my back to him, I feel the pressure of a sturdy jean coat around my shoulders. Glancing down, I take in the rough black material and smile to myself as I slip my arms through the sleeves, peeking behind me once quickly to see him studying me like a hawk, eyes sharp and a pleased grin on his lips, so small I can barely make it out, and I wonder if he’s even aware of the action. When I face in front of myself again to watch where I am going (and to hide my reddening cheeks from him) I feel a private grin so happen to pull at my features and I wrap the massive jacket closer to myself, inhaling what must be Baekhyun’s scent.

It’s an indescribable smell. It’s luxurious and soft, yet also grungy, like the scent of a new car mixed with a bouquet of Jasmine and gasoline.

It’s intoxicating.

We finally make it out of the stuffy building and I don’t hesitate to turn left, leading us down the familiar path to my place. Once there is room, Baekhyun lazily falls in line beside me, matching my pace so closely, his arm brushes against mine every other step. We get to the alley immediately, since it’s beside the building we were just in, and my footing falters, causing me to trip.

Arms are around me in an instant, not allowing me to move forward, let alone to the ground and the momentum drags me to a hard chest. I huff, the air is knocked out of my lungs and everything stops for a few seconds.

Finally, I remember how to breathe and lift my head to see Baekhyun’s mere inches above mine, eyes wide from surprise and slight fear.

“Are you alright?” He breathes, startled.

The urge to laugh at his expression is strong, but I swallow it once I remember where I am. Clearing my throat soberly, I realize I am practically splayed over him. I tap the shoulder my hand is resting on awkwardly and he finally realizes the situation as well. I feel one of the arms he has around my waist tighten briefly, pulling me even closer, but just as quickly, he is pulling back apologetically.

“I’m fine,” I finally am able to muster. I laugh drily, rubbing my face. “Still not over the memories….”

Baekhyun bit his lip worryingly. “They really frightened you, huh?”

I let out another breathless laugh. “I’ve honestly never been more terrified in my life.”

My voice shakes and all I can think of is the Chanyeol fellow’s depthless eyes. “Something about them was just so…inhuman….”

“Those guys,” Baekhyun’s voice cuts through my horror flashbacks, closer than I remember, startling me. He tries to steady me with slender fingers on my bent elbow, but keeps it there even after I’m still. “They were just hungry.”

“Hungry?” I question. He is now using the hand on my arm to lead me through the dark trail.

“Yeah, they…. They get a bit cranky when they haven’t fed in a while.”

I scoff. “’Fed’? What is this? A Snicker’s ad?”

He chuckles at that, but you press on. “You sound like you’re on pretty friendly terms with those guys.”

He winces at that. We’ve cleared the alley at this point, so he drops his hand, losing contact with me, much to my disappointment. I’m back to leading, so I continue down the familiar streetlamp lit sidewalks.

“I mean….” He scratches the back of his head. “We’re… familiar. I wouldn’t go as far as calling them friends, by any means.”

“What do you mean by that?” I ask, genuinely curious as to his connection with those psychopaths.

He purses his lips as he stares ahead unseeingly, thinking about the right way to explain himself. “What I mean is… we share the same circle. Some of the guys… they’re rowdier than the rest. They have a few loose screws, I’ll be the first to tell you, but they’re a part of the group.”

I lift an eyebrow at that. “So…. You all just let them run around and act crazy without any repercussions?”

“That’s…not what I said,” he’s quick to defend, lifting a finger in a scolding way. “I kicked their asses for you did I not?”

“You did that for me?” I ask, not able to resist the urge to bat my eyelashes up at him. I’m not going to lie to myself, I like the idea of him fighting for me.

“I did. Because I knew they were up to no good. You’re welcome, by the way.”

I roll my eyes, but bump my shoulder with his in thanks.

“But, even though I think I already know the answer, I have to ask.” He’s grown nervous. “Did…did you hear anything they were talking about?”

I shake my head and shrug. “Not a word. I could hear voices, but they were talking too quietly for me to understand any of it.”

He lets out a breath he must’ve been holding in relief.

“What? Was it that bad?”

He smiles, his beautiful teeth on display. “No! No, no.”

“Are you sure?” I press, teasingly.

He throws me a look that causes me to laugh.

“Enough about them,” he dismisses and I laugh harder. He goes ahead of me, spinning around so that he’s walking backwards, giving me his undivided attention. “I want to know more about you.”

“Like what?” I ask, instantly flustered. Under the moon, the smooth bit of skin of his neck and chest shine pale, the contrast with his dark eyes and long lashes something to behold. Does he know how incredibly attractive he is? Well, if his fashion and confidence is any indicator, he surely did, and used it to his benefit.

“Like why you were in the alley in the first place? I’ve never seen you at the club before, and trust me, I would remember.”

The comment flusters me more and it takes me a moment to remember how to speak. “I… I work nearby. The alley is my shortcut home.”

“I’m pretty familiar with the area.” He hums. “Where do you work?”

“At the used book store down the road.” As soon as the words leave my mouth, I wonder if I should be telling this man such personal information. Yeah, he may be hot, but he’s still a stranger, whether he saved me or not, I didn’t know him enough to trust him with the information. Yet, what was done was done.

“Ooooh, so you’re a nerd?” He teases and I roll my eyes.

“I guess you could say that, Baekhyun.”

“I think it’s cute! I was never much of a reader….”

“Well, if you need any recommendations, I’m your girl.”

He grins and I think he may have liked that statement a little too much.

“I’ll have to visit you soon then, to get those recommendations.” His voice has lowered, deepened, coming from within his chest and my mouth utterly dries.

“M—maybe you should,” I stutter and then stop abruptly as I finally take in our surroundings. “Shit.”

“What?” He’s shocked again and I guess it’s because I swore. Maybe he finds it unbecoming of me.

“I…. We passed my place.”

His lips form into a thin line as he presses them tightly together—holding in a laugh, no doubt. I ignore him as I swiftly double back the half block to my apartment. “This is me.”

He takes in the brightly dimmed complex. “Are you sure you don’t want me to walk you in?”

I nod. “I appreciate all you’ve done for me tonight, but I think I can take it from here.”

“Ah….” He slides his hands in his pockets and finally meets my gaze, disappointment visible on his face. “Well then, I guess my work here is done.”

“I guess so.”

“It was nice meeting you,” he says my name and shallowly dips his head, although we both seem rather hesitant to move.

“Nice meeting you, too, Baekhyun. Thank you again, for saving me.”

“Anytime.” He grins boyishly and I can’t help but stare at his mouth, at his perfect teeth.

An awkward silence follows and needing to break it, but also not necessarily wanting to, I began making my way towards the door to my building. “Good night.”

“Goodnight.” His farewell is a mere breath, he watches me, eerily still as I slowly retreat, walking backwards as he had earlier. My back roughly hits the face of the door and he chuckles at my silly antics, shaking his head.

I embarrassingly try to save my ass, but I’m just speaking gibberish, barely making sense as I succumb to my mortification and slid through the mint green door, into the familiar lightly dimmed foyer, leaving Baekhyun on the sidewalk.

I get into my apartment, my roommate/best friend already retired to bed. I stand in front of her closed bedroom door, wondering if I should wake her because I just need to tell someone about what happened to me, but thought better of it, showered and got ready for bed.

Once in the protection of my blankets, the nights events replay in my mind. I find myself tossing and turning as those men keep swirling around my head, threatening me over and over again as I wonder what they thought I overhead was and what Chanyeol had planned to do to me if Baekhyun hadn’t intervened.

Baekhyun….

Despite myself, I find solace in his presence. I have never felt so instantly attracted to someone before and I regret not getting his number or asking him to come in, but I’m just not that kind of girl. Even though he is nothing but nice, there is a chance he could’ve taken my invitation the wrong way.

Or, maybe we would’ve just learned more about each other and started a blossoming friendship.

Well, no use dwelling on the past. I sink deeper into my blankets and finally fall asleep with the reassuring thought that if it is meant to be, then it will be. Plus, I know at least one place I can find him if I really want to.

I sleep rather well that night.

~*~

The next week flies by uneventfully. I’m busy enough that the thought of Baekhyun doesn’t come to mind until I find myself face to face with him inside my store.

He’s gazing down at me, eyes wide and alight with humor. Actually, the humor coats his face, lifting the corners of his red lips and wrinkling his nose.

Under the cool yellow of the lights ahead, he appears warmer, but still paler than one should be in the summer. Again he’s draped in tight black skinny jeans that wrap around his delicious thighs, rips at the knees and sporadically on said thighs. Tucked into the belt is an expensive looking silky button up shirt with random patterns of blacks, maroons, and golds. The top two buttons unfastened to give a glimpse of his firm chest—just enough to leave you wanting more. Between the V of the opening sat a ruby, hung from a bronze chain. It appears to be the only piece of jewelry he has on. His hair is parted on the side, thrown messily aside, exposing his round eyebrows and blemish-less forehead.

He looks wildly handsome.

Handsome enough to garner the attention of the few bit of customers wandering the store.

I blink up at him. He seems so out of place here, amongst the old tender pages of discarded books. He belongs within the walls of clubs, with beautiful women draped all over him, wine in hand, the world at his feet.

Godly.

That is the vibe he gives off. As if he were of a different species.

“Are you that shocked to see me?” He finally utters, head tilting to the side. “You haven’t said a word and have been staring for the past minute.”

“It hasn’t been a minute,” I finally mumble, taking my eyes off his glorious face and down to the counter that only holds my hands.

He chuckles lowly. “Well, it diffenitly was longer than deemed friendly.”

“What are you doing here?” I say. “You don’t have any books.”

“It’s Friday.”

He shrugs at my confused expression. “I know you walk home and decided that I could protect you from all the scary men out there during the busy night. I wasn’t sure if you closed tonight, but decided to check since I was in the neighborhood.”

I have to swallow all the fluttery gushing things that form in my mind at his words. He’s worried about my safety? Concerned enough to check on me and make sure I am protected? His words definitely have my heart fluttering.

“That’s… very nice of you,” I’m able to get out eventually, bringing out a large pleased smile from him. “I actually do close today, so thank you.”

“When are you off?” He asks.

I check the time. “Ten. We still have about two hours left.”

“I don’t mind,” he says, answering my unasked question. “I faintly recall you informing me of some recommendations. It looks like I have the time to get those.”

I take his outfit in. “But you’re dressed for an event. I don’t want to take that from you.”

“These?” He motions at his body before scoffing. “I always dress like this. No special occasion, other than walking you home, of course.”

“Of course,” I repeat, again trying not to get too giddy over the idea he wants to impress me. “Well, my favorite book that’s in right now is a classic, Interview With the Vampire by Anne Rice.”

“Ah….” He get’s a far away look for a moment. “I’m quite familiar with that story.”

“Oh, you are?” I am both disappointed and intrigued. “Didn’t take you much for a reader.”

That brings him back to Earth and he glares at me. “I’ll have you know that I haven’t, in fact, read the book, although I still do take offense with your idea of my intelligence. Are your books sorted alphabetically by name or author?”

“Author.” I inform. “But also by genre. Have fun.”

He throws a thumb over his shoulder. “I’ll just be over here if you need anything.” With that he turns on the heels of his fancy dress shoes, clacking down the hardwood flooring as if it was a runway in Milan and I watch his shoulder blades through the loose silky shirt, swallowing the saliva that has built in my mouth.

I catch the eye of a few girls hidden around aisles, catch both glares and curiosity and sink a bit lower into the counter.

The next two hours are both the slowest yet the quickest two hours of my life. I can feel baekhyun’s gaze on me heavily the majority of the shift. Especially when I am out on the floor helping a customer or restocking. It’s fun. Baekhyun sits at one of the side tables that has a decent view of the counter and some aisles and whenever I lift my head and accidentally get drawn to his dark and playful eyes, peeking over whatever book he has open, I feel myself get shy and have to quickly glance away, face red and hot.

Finally when I am officially ready to go, I head over to where he is lounging, one of his ankles rests lazily against his thigh as he scans the pages.

I readjust the strap of my purse as I wait for him to acknowledge me, cause I know he knows I’m hovering, but he ignores me, too entranced in the story.

Finally I clear my throat. “I’m done—“

The bastard shushes me.

My mouth drops as his eyebrows knit. “This is a good part.”

“That’s a picture book!” I scoff.

That draws him out of his act and he grins up at me before making a show of slowly closing the book and sighing heavy as he stands up and leans in close. “Shall we?”

I blink a few times, catching my bearings. He/s going to step ahead of me but pauses pointing at my chest. “Is that my jacket?”

If I wasn’t red before....

Yes I have been wearing Baekhyuns jacket everyday since that fateful night. It still smells strongly of him and is the only proof I have that that night actually happened.

#Baekhyun scenarios #Baekhyun #exo scenarios #Baekhyun scenario #exo scenario #Baekhyun oneshots #Baekhyun oneshot #exo oneshot #exo oneshots #Baekhyun drabbles #Baekhyun drabble #exo drabbles #exo drabble

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anakin-danvers · 4 years

Text

say anything

Din Djarin x fem!reader

gif credit to owner

Request: “Congratulations on 100, lovely! For the prompt lists, how about "One Hundred Ways to Say 'I Love You'" #2 and #48 for my man Din Djarin? I love your writing 💗” as requested by @obirain

Description: Traveling with the notorious bounty hunter known as The Mandalorian has its risks. However, nobody told you the biggest risk would be having to face your feelings for him.

Word count: ~3.4k how did this get to be so long?

Warnings: some angst, pining, fluff, mentions of alcohol consumption

A/N: Ahhh Aubrey I really hope you like this!! You know I love you very very much and your fics always blow me away so I hope this is to your enjoyment!! I’m very excited to have written for our love Din! I had this idea for some time now and decided to write it out with these prompts! Originally I put English words of endearment but then accidentally started using words of endearment in Spanish and I sort of rolled with it? Translation(s) down below 😁 Hope you all enjoy, and as always, lmk what you all think (I read everything you guys write, seriously, multiple times)! 🥰

Translations: cariño - sweetie

vida mia - my life

Taglist:

@mcu-padawan @obirain @corellians-only @valkyrieofthehighfae @littlevodika @catsnkooks @hounding-around @roseofalderaan @ohhellokenobi @goldenkenobi @snips-n-skyguy0501 @cherrykenobi @sacred-things @nobie @anakinswhore

join my taglist!

——

“Hey, put that down!” You reach over to take the canister of homemade paint from the small green hand.

A babble of protest is all you receive as a response.

“I told you we could paint if you didn’t make a mess. That was the deal, remember?”

Another babble. The hands reach out again, wanting to take the canister from you. You pull it out of their reach, giving the baby in front of you a stern look.

“No, no, kid. We’re doing it my way. Got it?”

A squeal serves as a response, and you nod, taking hold of one of the kid’s hands to do what you’d planned on doing.

“Alright, we’re going to dip your little hand here, okay? Then press it on the wood. We do that 5 more times and hopefully it’ll turn out the way I imagined...”

A childish laugh escapes the kid’s mouth as his hand comes in contact with the blue paint. You hold it up, letting some of the excess paint drip from it before placing it on the wood. After a few seconds pressed, you slowly peel away the blue and green hand, revealing three little fingers on the wood piece.

“Yes, that looks great. Good job, cariño.”

He gives you a happy coo in response, and you continue to put his hand in the paint to finish the project. After the last hand print, you take a hold of the wood, six, three-fingered hands creating the image of a blue flower.

“Beautiful. We’ll see if your dad likes it.”

Familiar footsteps come from behind you, and you know their owner can hear your conversation now.

“Might be good to put some color on this ship. Make it more of a home, don’t you think?”

The child coo’s at you, his eyes focused on the blue paint on his hand. He doesn’t understand why you’re saying what you are, but then again, it’s not exactly directed to him.

Wordlessly, the one your words are aimed at passes you, the Razor Crest’s door closing behind him. Once you know his back is to you, you allow your eyes to meet the armored body, traveling up from his boots, to his cape, to the back of the Beskar helmet.

You avert your gaze, focusing again on the child and art supplies before you.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” you say, picking up the kid from his awaiting arms.

You take him to wash his hands of the paint, putting the wood to the side to dry and the other supplies in your designated art bag. You hum to yourself, the only noise within the ship besides the quiet lull now that the ship is traveling through hyperspace. After cleaning up the kid, you put him to bed, placing a small kiss on his forehead.

You’ve been traveling with the notorious bounty hunter known as the Mandalorian and his adopted kid for some time now. Din, the name he gave you when you’d asked him in a drunken spark of courage, took you in as a traveling companion and babysitter when they’d stopped by your recently destroyed shop on Agamar. It just so happened to be the bounty that Din was after that had destroyed your shop, so after giving him and the child your last salvaged fruit, you’d helped him track down the bounty. And now you’re here, traveling the galaxy together.

You step into the cockpit, notebook in one hand and pencil in the other. As before, without a word, you take the seat next to Din, crossing your legs on the seat and opening your notebook to your latest project. If there’s something that living in Agamar gave you it was time, time to think, to daydream, or in your case, draw your thoughts and dreams. When you joined Din and his kid, you only started drawing more, the different things in the galaxy giving you an endless supply of muses.

But your favorite muse is the one sitting next to you, the one that hadn’t said a word to you since you’d seen him in the morning. As if sensing your thoughts, Din finally speaks.

“Next stop is Pasanna.” The modulated voice is like music to your ears, and you don’t realized how much you’ve been missing it until now.

“For a quarry?”

He shakes his head, look still focused on the controls before him.

“No. I need some parts for the ship, and I know someone there who can sell more durable ones to me.”

You nod, some relief washing over you when you realize Din won’t be in danger. He turns his seat to face you, and the simple view of the front of his helmet makes your heart skip a beat.

“It’s warm there. I was thinking, maybe you can take the kid and explore. Visit some shops even.”

It’s warm there. It’s a simple statement to anyone, but to you, it means everything. Agamar is not a warm place, and having spent all your life there, you now prefer warmer climates. And Din knows that.

You can’t stop the smile that makes its way to your face.

“That sounds great, Din. I’d love that.”

“I thought you would,” he says, and you can feel the tips of your ears warm at his words.

Without realizing it, you move your notebook to hide the page you’re working on. Din has seen your drawings before, praised them even. But this drawing, it’s more personal, something you’re not sure you’re ready to share yet.

Thankfully, it seems as if Din doesn’t notice. Instead, his visor is directed towards your face. Even though you’re not able to see his eyes, the eyes you’ve only dreamt about seeing, you can feel his stare.

“You have some paint on your cheek.”

“Oh, I do?” You move your eyes away from him, a flustered mess before him. You bring your hand up to your cheek, trying to wipe away at where you think the paint is.

“Y/N, let me. I’ll do it for you.”

You couldn’t protest if you wanted to, because the moment his hand comes up to take a hold of your cheek you weren’t wiping, you freeze.

It’s not the first time he’s touched you. Living together for the past months meant you’d have to have touched each other before. The occasional brush of hands, the bumping into each other, the helping each other onto the ship after a long day. No, it’s not the first time he’s touched you. But it’s the first time he’s touched you like this.

His gloved thumb swipes at your cheek, once, twice, three times before you’re sure he’s taken the paint off. But his hand remains holding you, almost as if you’d crumble like the dried paint if it pulled away. And honestly, with the way your heart is thumping, that might be the case.

A small sigh escapes your lips, and you try to fight the need to close your eyes, to no avail. Your eyes close lightly, and the feelings you’ve been having for Din come rushing to you. If there’s one thing you know about yourself, it’s that your late night confessions are almost as dangerous as your drunken ones, and right now, you’re treading on thin ice.

“Din...” The name rolls out of your mouth as a plea, and you feel a shiver run down your body. “I...I need to tell you something, Din.”

“I think you need to rest.”

You open your eyes at his words, a small frown making its way to your face.

“But first I have to say something.”

His hand stays on your face, his thumb moving up to rub on the frown of your brows.

“You don’t have to say anything.”

Don’t have to say anything? Does that mean he knows?

“Din, I —“

“Please, Y/N, don’t say anything.”

And just like that, it feels as if the once comforting hand burns your skin. You pull your face away, his hand dropping. Before you feel like more of a fool, you get up, closing your notebook and tucking it under your arm.

“Wait, you don’t have to go.” Din makes a move to grab your hand, but you’re out of his reach before he can.

“Goodnight.”

“Y/N...”

You leave the cockpit without another word. You feel your face burn in embarrassment, embarrassment for how vulnerable you allowed yourself to be. Embarrassment for almost telling Din how you feel.

It isn’t until you’re in your cot that you let a few tears roll down your cheeks. You almost told him. Not that it would have any effect. It seems he knows already. But he doesn’t want you to tell him.

You bring your hand up to wipe the wetness of your cheeks. In an attempt to distract your mind, you open your notebook to draw. Only, you open it to the page you’d been working on. And staring back at you is the helmet that fills your day's thoughts. Of course, the moment you want to not think of Din, you open up your sketch of him.

Taking a deep breath, you flip the page, blankness staring back at you instead. Without another thought, you flip back to the drawing, your pencil coming down to continue defining the curve of his helmet. It moves on to sketch the shape of his arms, the flow of his cape, the curve of his boots. Before you know it, you’ve finished the sketch. You’re not going to deny how good it is. It’s so accurate, and all by memory.

I’ve stared at him long enough, I would be surprised if I didn’t sketch this by memory, you think.

You close your eyes and rub them, the tiredness getting to you. Closing the notebook, you tuck it into the bag of your other art supplies, and settle into your bed, letting the darkness of sleep consume you.

~~~

As you feel the warmth of the sun on your skin, you’re sure you’ll never get tired of the feeling. The comfort that comes with the sun’s warmth is one you’ll always cherish. And you’ll always be thankful that Din is the one that introduced you to that comfort.

An excited babble from the kid brings you back from your thoughts. You look over at where he’s following Din in his pod. You can’t help but smile at the sight, the warmth blooming in your chest better than the one coming from the sun. At Din’s insistence, he and the kid had gone to look for the ship parts so that you could get some time to wander the shops alone. That was a little over an hour ago, and now they found you near where you had departed.

You swing the backpack of things you’d bought over your shoulders, walking over to meet them halfway.

“Hey, cariño,” you say, reaching out to grab the little green bundle of joy. A happy giggle is given to you in response, and you pull him close to you.

“He missed his mom.”

You look over at Din, your cheeks burning at his choice of words. His mom. That was the first time you’d been called that.

“Well, I missed him and his dad very much.” Your eyes are focused on the kid, his smile grounding you as you feel the heat travel all the way up to your ears. You’re not looking at Din, you can’t look at him. After last night, you feel as if you’re setting yourself up for heartbreak. He doesn’t want you to tell him how you feel, yet, you bring it up again.

Silence is all you receive as a response from him. In a way, you’re thankful for it. At least that way you can concentrate on the baby talk instead.

And that’s how the rest of the walk to the Razor Crest is. You opt to carry the kid, talking with him the whole walk. Din is silent behind the two of you, the only indicator that he’s even there is the sound of his boots trudging in the sand.

Night is beginning to fall, and for how warm it was in the day, the night brings with it a chilling breeze. You’ve decided to stay in Pasanna until the morning. It was your suggestion, telling Din that there was no rush to your next destination, so might as well get some good rest. He’d agreed, little words exchanged between the two of you throughout the day, the tension from whatever that was which happened the night before still evidently present.

You’re sitting in the pilot chair of the Razor Crest. The kid is fast asleep, the day’s exploring having tired him out. You, on the other hand, can’t sleep, your thoughts flying through your mind at hundreds of parsecs per second.

Your eyes wander to the many buttons and switches on the control panel of the ship. You know how to use most of them, Din showing you how to use a feature on nights you’d both find yourselves in the cockpit. Usually, you’d sit in the seat slightly behind him, allowing him to sit in the main seat. But when he wanted to teach you a new feature, he’d let you take his seat, crouching next to you, so close, so patient when you were confused. To be fair, most of the times you were confused were due to him; he distracted you, the proximity never ceasing to take your breath away.

The protagonist of your thoughts is the one who takes you from them. You hear Din walk into the cockpit, the sound of his footsteps instantly catching your attention in the otherwise silent space. Impulsively, you turn to look at him, his visor already set on you.

“Din.”

“Couldn’t sleep.” You’re not sure if it’s a question or a statement, but you nod anyways. Your hands begin to clam up, prompting you to rub your hands on your thighs.

“I had a nice time today. I...I appreciate you choosing to come to Pasanna. The warmth was nice.”

He takes a seat in your usual spot, a sigh heard through his modulator. It’s ironic, in a way. You’re sitting in the pilot’s seat, him in the secondary, but it doesn’t feel like you’re the one in control of the situation. No, it feels like you’re the ship itself, waiting for his directions to tell you where to go from here.

He doesn’t say anything, simply nods as a response. Since you’ve known Din, you’ve never seen him without his helmet on, and you’ve never questioned it. But you’d be lying if you didn’t wish you could see his face right now, the face that you’re sure is more beautiful than the way you could ever imagine it. You wish you could see his expressions to try to decipher his thoughts, know where exactly his eyes are focused on. Is it your forehead? Your nose? Perhaps directly at your eyes?

“I...I picked up a few things for you at the market.”

You blink a few times to once again refocus on the present. Only now do you notice he’s holding something, a rectangular object wrapped in sand brown cloth.

“Oh?” You’re not really sure what else to say, his actions foreign to you.

He gets up to walk to where you’re sitting, crouching in front of you and holding the wrapped object over. You take it from him, curiosity filling you at the anticipation of what this is. Your fingers unwrap the lightly bound cloth, revealing a simple wooden box. You look up at Din, and at his nod, you move to open it. At the contents inside, you gasp. Within the box, there are paint brushes, beautifully crafted ones of different sizes. And next to the brushes are a few small pots of paint. Real paint. Not the homemade one that you’ve been making work. No, this is real paint and it’s yours...

“It reminded me of you.”

At his words, you look up to meet his visor again. Now you really wish you could see his eyes. Try to get some idea as to what he’s thinking, where he’s looking. Is he looking at the confusion written on your face? Is he looking at the way your eyes suddenly feel wet with emotion? Is he looking at the faint frown of your brow?

Turns out he’s looking at your lips. They’re slightly parted, the absence of words leaving them in a waiting state. His gloved hand comes to take a hold of your chin, thumb swiping your bottom lip. All air leaves your lungs, and your tongue darts out to lick your lips to try to ease the dryness of mouth you’re experiencing. You hear Din let out a small groan at your actions, the sound only making your heartbeat speed up even more.

“I’ve seen your drawings.”

At his words, you feel heat rush up to your face. Has he seen the ones you’ve drawn of him?

“Have you seen…” You can’t even bring yourself to ask the question.

He nods. “The ones of me? I have seen them. You’re not the best at being discreet about it, you know?”

“Well, with such a beautiful muse, can you judge me?” You don’t realize what you’ve said until the words are out of your mouth. “Din…I—“

“Y/N, about last night—”

“You d-don’t have to say anything.” You try to repeat his words from the night before with the same coolness he’d said them, but find you can’t with the way he makes you feel.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” he says, sighing lightly. His thumb comes up to touch your lip again, staying on it this time. “I’m just...I don’t know what this is. I’m not good with words, you know that. I just need you to know I care about you, I have for a long time. And I need you in my life. You and the kid, you’re all that matters to me.”

Taking a shaky breath, you bring your hands up to grab the one he’s holding your face with. Slowly, as if you’d frighten him with faster movements, you bring his hand away from your face, taking a hold of the glove and peeling it off his hand. Closing your eyes, you bring his hand up to your lips, kissing each finger. His thumb, his index, his middle, his ring, his pinky. Then you kiss his knuckles, again, one at a time. You don’t open your eyes until you’re done, meeting his visor staring back at you.

“I love you, Din, mi vida.”

And indeed he is your life. Him and the kid, just like he’d said.

“Close your eyes again.”

You do as he says, eyes closing but not letting go of his hand. He moves it away from you, putting your hands on your lap and bringing his up to cover your eyes. You hear the sound of something being placed on the ground, and before you can ask what it is, you feel lips connect with your own. They’re soft, warm. They’re Din’s.

He kisses you softly, and you can feel the caution behind it. He’s being careful, waiting to see how you react.

You can’t get enough of the feeling. Your hands fly up to take a hold of his head, bringing him closer to you and causing him to kneel instead of crouch. Din groans softly at your eagerness, his other hand coming to take a hold of your thigh. His large hand rubs up and down, all while your fingers comb through his hair.

His hair. His lips. You’re feeling what you never thought you would. And it feels so right.

The thought alone makes the fire burning inside you grow, and before you know it, you’re nipping lightly at his bottom lip. Another groan escapes Din, his hand on your thigh squeezing lightly. It’s your need for air that causes you to pull away, your eyes still shut tightly under his hand.

You wait there, heart beating, face warm, swollen lips tingling. When Din removes his hand from your eyes, you keep your eyes closed, not wanting to see anything he doesn’t want to show.

“You can open your eyes, sweet girl.”

You do, eyes meeting with the familiar visor once again. You can’t help but smile, a breathy laugh escaping your lips.

“I love you,” you say again.

“I love you too. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”

That night, you sleep in Din’s cot with him. It’s small, and definitely not meant for two people. But it’s the most comfortable sleep you’ve ever had.

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ghost-in-the-stalls · 3 years

Text

Neil Josten's Playlist Part 6 - For Himself

Masterpost and link to the playlist in its entirety here

A lot of the songs Neil keeps are just for him. Sometimes you need to be in your feelings a bit and music is the only place you're comfortable doing that.

2. Shrike - Hozier

After he initially found Hozier, this boy didn’t listen to anything else for weeks straight if he could help it. Shrike I think is just a song that he loves the sound of. Pretty much the only thing we know in canon about Neil’s music taste is that he doesn’t like loud music. Which is incredibly vague and generalizing. To me, that tells me that Neil maybe is actually someone who tends to pay most attention to and by most effected by the sound of a song than the theme or lyrics or genre or anything. If he doesn’t like the sound, he doesn’t like the song. But a sound that appeals to him? Oh boy, he won’t be able to let it go. Shrike is like that for him. It’s gentle and smooth and I imagine he doesn’t pay too much attention to the lyrics or meaning. He just lets himself get lost in the sound.

11. Best Part - Daniel Caesar & H.E.R.

Not too much to say about this. It’s soft and beautiful and smooth, and I think Neil would greatly appreciate the sound. It’s a bit too soft for him to associate with Andrew, but he doesn’t need the association to enjoy it. Neil listens to it on his morning runs when the sun is only just rising and the world is still moving slowly. But he also listens to it on slower mornings when Andrew convinces him to forgo the morning run in favor of breakfast and coffee on the couch with the cats.

17. Dreams - Fleetwood Mac

Like some others on this list, this is a song that catches Neil wholly for its sound. Like the title, listening to this song feels a little like getting lost in a dream. There's just something very soft about it, and those are the kinds of songs that catches Neil's attention. He likes that he's found something he can get lost in for a time without losing himself.

27. Hallelujah - Rufus Wainwright

As incredible of a song this is, the origin of Neil's connection to it isn't anything super emotional. The foxes made him watch Shrek. He became very attached to this song and would listen to it on repeat for weeks afterwards. They all got so sick of it. His aux cord privileges were revoked. Matt doesn't need to start CRYING while he's DRIVING Neil, THANK YOU.

As for his connection to it, a big trend I'm seeing in the stuff that I think Neil listens to is that a lot of it is very emotional. Sad songs, moving melodies, beautiful ballads. I think Neil listens to music to help him feel his emotions - like really feel them. He's so good at compartmentalizing and shoving everything down and away (as per the trauma of running for the better half of his life), I think listening to emotional music - like really listening to it all - as a means of getting in touch with the emotions he's always shoving aside would be a great coping mechanism for him. To that degree songs like this just strike a cord with Neil, even if there isn't any parallel to draw between the lyrics and his own life. A song is a package of emotion that Neil can hear and unpack and process at his own pace while retaining a safe degree of separation.

30. Obstacles - Syd Matters

Not a whole lot to say about this one. Neil finds it somehow - either through one of his foxes or just on his own - and he finds it incredibly calming. He keeps it close. It makes him hopeful even on days when he can't bring himself to look in the mirror. The steady melody and repeating words help him get lost in something other than his own thoughts.

35. Ashes On Your Eyes - Deb Talan

This is one Neil found on his own. It doesn't remind him of any of his foxes, though, or his mother. It's one of the few songs he has just for himself. It serves as a reminder that he's going to be okay. He has a great support system, but sometimes he likes to find comfort in himself just to prove that he can still do it. Songs like this keep him going on those days where he doesn't want to bring his problems to others.

37. Rivers and Roads - The Head and the Heart

This is one Neil gets his hands on in his final year at Palmetto, but it isn't just about Andrew for him (like most of the others from this year). This one is about all his foxes - his family. It's about how lonely he feels even when he has a whole group of people he lives and plays and interacts with on a daily basis. They aren't his people; his people are scattered everywhere. He only learned how to be a real person after he met them. Now he needs to learn to do it on his own. There's a special kind of pain that comes when he thinks of how much he misses each of them.

39. Unsteady - Ambassador X

This song is one Neil thinks of often when he's having bad days. He'll still always end up having some days where he doesn't feel like a real person, and on those days it can be hard to ground himself - to keep from floating away and giving up on everything he's built to run back to being nothing. What helps him most on those days is not being alone. It takes him a long time, though, to learn how to communicate what his needs are on those days. It's pretty lucky that Andrew can read him so well, but during the years when they aren't living together it becomes very hard for Neil to find the words to ask for help. This song helps him with that. The chorus is so short and to-the-point but is still such a bare-bones lay of emotion and need that it centers Neil enough to realize that he doesn't need to explain himself or mince his words when he's asking for help. He just needs to ask.

42. Good Riddance (Time of Your Life) - Green Day

The downside to having the music taste that Neil does is that sometimes he latches onto something that is apparently a bit cheesy or overplayed, and the foxes gladly tease him for liking it unironically. This is definitely one of those songs. It doesn't matter to him that it was basically everyone's 8th grade graduation song (he didn't get one of those anyway, Matt.) He listens to this and thinks of the passage of time and how hard it's going to be when his foxes are scattered all over the country while he's stuck alone in Palmetto. But they'll be happy, and he'll be happy soon enough after that. They'll all move forward but it doesn't mean they'll lose each other (he has to repeat that to himself on bad nights).

The completely serious way he listens to this song is funny to the foxes at first, but Nicky is the first to break down crying when it stops being funny. He's also the only one to break down crying, but that doesn't mean the others don't get emotional too. ("Jesus, Neil, you got a whole team of collegiate athletes getting emotional over the time-of-your-life song. How much more of a fucking weirdo enigma can you be??" -Andrew at some point probably)

47. Everybody Hurts - R.E.M.

Neil has some pretty intense, pretty specific trauma. Plenty of people in the world have experienced terrible things and it isn't a competition. Neil knows this. However, he's also painfully aware that he's someone who pulled the right numbers in the shit lottery. Sometimes it helps to hear this song.

He knows that maybe his own life experiences were not anything close to what the songwriter had in mind, but it still helps. It helps to remember that he isn't the only person in the world who has terrible days. It even helps to know that people outside of the foxes have bad days. It helps to find a way to feel connected to the larger population of the world. It's a definite new thing for him - feeling like he's allowed to belong in the world - but it's very comforting at times.

54. Lights Up - Harry Styles

((I wish I could remember who made a post once saying this was a very Neil song because that was how I first heard it and I wish I could credit that person. Alas, it was over a year ago when I first read the books and didn't recognize any usernames yet :/ if anyone knows who that is lmk!!))

There are a lot of things Neil doesn't know about himself. There are a lot of things from freshman year and before that he still feels some level of guilt for. But ultimately he doesn't regret a single choice he's made. There are a whole lot of things he's still figuring out about his life. He heard this song and really vibed with the sound and what it was saying. Not much more to say than that. He's found himself in a light that he's happy to stay and figure himself out in.

66. Here Comes the Sun - The Beatles

Mary was a bit of a Beatles fan. There were several of their songs she'd play on their long drives when they weren't being immediately tailed.

This wasn't one of them. She skipped this one, every single time. Neil fully understands why. For all the indulgence she gave herself in the music she listened to, this one seemed to cross a line she couldn't handle.

Now Neil listens to it on morning runs and good days. And he lets himself feel okay.

71. Fall on Me - R.E.M.

Neil's had plenty of people trying to hurt him throughout his life. He's never really gotten help from people he was supposed to get it from. And now he has a whole family of people who have experienced similar abandonment.

Sometimes that pisses him off.

Sometimes he just really wishes the world was a softer place. Andrew would say it's dumb to wish, especially for something like that. And he'd be right. But it doesn't stop Neil from thinking it sometimes.

73. Hat and Feet - Fountains of Wayne

Sometimes you're just beaten down and worn out. Just once in a while, Neil wants to let himself feel this without feeling terrible and lost for it. This song helps with that.

Sometimes you're just a hat and feet, and that's okay.

#aftg #my writing #neil josten #andreil #andrew minyard

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loveylangdon · 5 years

Text

Fallin all in you

Requested: can you do something about Shawn dating one of his friend's sisters?

Word count: 3.8k+

A/N: okay I changed this a bit because I liked this idea or twist I put on it. however, posting this took so long because I originally filled this request with it being Connors older sister If you want me to post the one with Connor lmk but I fell in love with this version more. Thank you for requesting I adore you @r3ader

Masterlist

*not my gif credit to owner*

y/n p.o.v

Walking down the hallway you feel someone pull on your arm dragging you into a nearby room letting out a little yelp at the sudden movement and change in direction you put your hand on the door frame balancing yourself looking to find who disrupted your trek to the green room

Looking up surprised seeing Shawn blushing with a smile on his face

“Hi” he whispers softly looking down at you

“Shawn what the hell,” you ask chuckling looking around noticing your in an empty what appears to be an unused green room

“I missed you” he shrugs his shoulders and leads you into the room farther closing the door behind you hands intertwined

“Shawn we can’t do this right now” you laugh at the cute pout on his face, you’re standing in front of him and he’s holding both of your elbows lightly holding you in place as if he’s afraid of you walking out which you could never do.

He lets out a whine and dips his head to be eye level with you before moving his hands to cup your cheeks “You’re walking around here looking all cute and smiley I just wanted a kiss” he speaks out as he closes the space between you two catching your lips in his.

Melting into it you can't help but smile until you feel Shawn bite your lip causing you to part your mouth in a moan allowing him to explore your mouth. Moving your hands behind his head into his curls holding him closer if possible. You pressed to his front adding a little more pressure he starts groaning and pulls away for a breath. Leaving you to laugh at his swollen lips, messy curls, and pink cheeks imagining how both of you probably looked fucked from a simple lazy Makeout.

“Don’t laugh I missed you” Shawn pouts at you while you lean up and place another kiss on his lips which he smiles into “You missed me too eh” he laughs pulling away as you groan at the loss, looping your fingers through the belt loops in his jeans so he can’t go too far as you bite your lip up at him

“I have to find-” your thought interrupted by his phone ringing in his back pocket

“Shit” he hisses and pulls the phone out muting the call so the ringtone can’t be heard from outside glancing in the direction of the door you guys came through

Chuckling you look at the caller ID its Brian

“Answer it rockstar” you tease as you slip your hand into his back pocket as he throws his arm over your shoulder holding you into his chest

Smiling at the thought these secret rendezvous, hallway shenanigans before shows, lazy make-out sessions in backrooms it was all thrilling, cute and fun. Joining a tour with your best friend had you over the moon but never did you think you would get a cute guy out of it let alone the one and only Canadian heartthrob. After joining the tour for 3 months Shawn took a liking to you and always tried to be where you were. Him and his friends constantly crashing whatever plans you made with yours. After a while, it didn’t take long for the pair of you to you two sneak into broom closets and find yourself under the sheets in hotel rooms trying not to get caught.

Your thoughts are interrupted when Shawn pokes your cheek, not even realizing his phone call ended he chuckled “Am I that unamusing you can’t pay attention to a five minute phone call I have” he jokes

“mm regardless I was thinking about you Mendes don’t get too big headed now” you joke right back at him as you capture his lips in a kiss again letting out a sigh of content until he pulls away

“Alessia is looking for you apparently you left your phone in the green room and she can’t find you” he smirks down at you

“Oh I wonder why she can’t rockstar” you pull away from him and it's his turn to groan

“No I just got you in here I was waiting like a good 25 minutes” he pouts down at you

“Oh my god you were waiting in here by yourself for how long” you question trying not to giggle

“Stop” he lets out whining “It was cute in my head, kind of like those hide in the closet to scare your significant other videos” he follows you out of the room wrapping his arms around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder

“Significant other videos huh?” You look at him before he hides his face in your neck feeling his face heat up.

You’re about to tease him some more when you hear footsteps and Shawn breaks away quickly stumbling on his feet making you let out a laugh as he glares at you just as Connor walks in

“y/n oh hey!” He waves at you and then notices Shawn holding onto the wall “Bro what happened” he’s chuckling as Shawn glares at both of you

“He tripped over his ginormous legs” you giggle excusing yourself to go find Alessia

Walking down the hall, you're about to enter Alessia’s green room until you hear her and someone talking

“I don’t know y/n seems different do you think she’s sleeping with someone on the team” you hear Alessia ask as you tense up

You never meant to keep whatever was happening to you and Shawn from her but there wasn’t much to tell. You guys were just having fun. You know how she felt about Shawn, for the first couple months of the tour they were inseparable she fell quickly before deciding it wasn’t a good idea and Shawn told her he saw her as nothing more than an older sister. It crushed her but not in a bad way she soon realized it was just being on the road and not having someone to share it with. Being in a close space for so many days there's only so many guys that she can choose to be around and she misinterpreted her feelings for Shawn. She was actually way more into Brian anyways but was too scared to admit it.

“I mean maybe she’s just homesick you know how she gets, this is her first tour and we’re best friends if she was she would tell us” you hear Liv chiming in to reassure her

Alessia couldn’t be on the road without anyone for long, she always insisted that the next tour she would do solo but it never ended up that way. Going solo lasted 3 months and within the first break, she asked you and Liv to join her for the rest of the tour all the way through the NA leg. All expenses paid and maybe even a job opportunity here and there helping with odds an end things. You and Liv automatically agreed already having been packed just waiting for her to say when.

“Have you noticed Shawn acting weird too, I mean before he couldn’t not be around and now he’s hardly ever-” you hear Alessia starts but is cut off by Liv

“Les if she was sleeping with Shawn which I don’t think she is, she would tell us okay. y/n isn’t one to keep secrets. Even if she was would it be a bad thing?” Liv asks as you take in a breathe waiting for Alessia’s answer

“I mean-” Alessia starts off but you couldn’t bear to hear how disappointed in you she would be so you walked into the room

“I got lost again, I don’t know how you do it, Les, these places are a maze” you sigh plopping yourself onto the couch next to Alessia cuddling into her side

“Ahh we were looking for you, I figured you got lost again so I had Brian call around to see if anyone found you” she smiles and wraps her arms around you as Liv comes to join on the couch. “What would I do without my favorite two girls with me” She sighs

—

Alessia was singing Out of Love, the most heart-tugging song on her setlist at least to me. Me and Liv decided to watch side stage tonight so here we were holding each other and belting the words out as loud as we could. No one could hear us let alone see us except those on stage and with Alessia totally engrossed in the song paying no mind to anything around her we were in our own little world.

In the middle of the song, Liv was called by Brian to go help with something in the booth doing some odd and end work here and there we were both learning how to do every little job on the crew. It was fun to learn and be of help but not in the middle of your best friends set, where Liv didn’t mind because she’s toured with Les before she didn’t mind the disruption more than happy to help.

You felt a larger body wrap their arms around your shoulders from behind already knowing who it was you grabbed their wrists and leaned back. Moving in the same motion you and Liv were previously. You felt Shawn lower his head and whisper the words into your ear giving you chills and making your heart flutter.

Over the speakers fading out of the song, you heard a camera go off, looking over Connor peaked his head over the lens of his film camera taking photos of you and Shawn. Grabbing Alessia’s attention before the loud bass came back on Connor moved you and Shawn so Shawn’s back was facing Alessia and took a picture of her looking at you guys funny.

When Connor walked away you expected Shawn to follow thinking they just needed some B roll for his tour diaries. He stayed and even when Liv came back he wrapped both of you guys’ in his arms and into his chest swaying back and forth with both of you before he had to get ready to go onstage.

After Alessia walked off you and Liv followed her into the dressing room Alessia closing the door on Brian before he could walk in and tell her what a great job she did after every show. Leaving you confused.

“Are you and Shawn dating” Alessia turned to you asking

You couldn’t read her expression or emotions and it scared you, she was building her walls back up you looked to Liv for help but she looked away

“Les no, we’re not,” you told her and honestly it was the truth you and Shawn never said explicitly you were dating

“But you are? Though right? If I go out there and ask him right now what will he say?” She asked with no emotion in her tone

“Les,” you started but she opened the door facing a confused Brian and started walking down the hall to where Shawn was. Looking at Liv for help

“Well follow her y/n” she ushered you out of the room “Are you two dating?” She asked looking at you skeptically

“Liv no we’re not, I would’ve told you guys” you groan jogging after Alessia, Liv and a confused Brian following

Stopping abruptly you see Alessia just got to Shawn who was looking in a mirror fixing his “makeup” Connor recording him Alessia tapped Shawns shoulder making him turn around confused

“Connor turn the camera off,” Alessia told him giving him a look that made him almost drop his camera

You guys were in an alcove under the stage a very small alcove might you add it was crowded for seven people. Shawn had to crouch down to even fit and Cez sitting at his desk confused.

Trying to squeeze past everyone to get to Alessia was hard but you managed to make it over to her. Shawn saw you and his eyes lit up at the sight of you, which didn’t go unnoticed by Alessia who’s eyes widened too reminding her why she came down here in the first place she went to open her mouth when you put your hand over it muffling her words and with the screaming of fans Shawn couldn’t hear her.

Holding your hand over Alessia’s mouth, “Les not now” you spoke to her and looked up at Shawn who was smiling. She started shaking her head in an attempt to let you let go but you were holding her hands as well. you tried to walk backward with her Connor recording again finding the whole thing amusing with such a tight space it proved difficult.

Brian came up and picked up Alessia like she weighed nothing and slung her over his shoulder causing Liv and Shawn to let out a belly laugh hesitantly you removed your hand thinking Brian was going to take her back to the green room.

With Alessia’s mouth no longer being covered she let out a scream that had you guys all covering your ears as her eyes went wide and blush rose to her already rosy cheeks as the crowd got louder stopping Brian in his tracks and making him look at her

“My bad” she got soft “I didn’t think y/n was going to let go of my mouth” she spoke at you, still on Brians's shoulder making everyone laugh

“Shawn you need to get in position” Cez spoke to him making him put his in ears

“Mendes,” Alessia started pointing at him “We need to have a serious talk” she spoke out towards him with a look that made the color drain from his face, causing Connor and Cez to laugh and you and Liv to put your head in your hands groaning. How was such a small girl so intimidating. Brian took her away in the direction of the green room with Liv trailing behind laughing at Brian pretending to drop her.

Shawn turned to you quickly looked around and planted a soft kiss on your lips after making sure no one was looking. He smiled down at you and walked down the alcove onto the stairway to take him to the stage as the beginning of lost in Japan started playing.

Standing there frozen with rosy cheeks at the sudden act of affection, Cez cleared his throat breaking you from your thoughts

“So that's new” Cez started “Is that why Alessia came down here ready to cause hell” he asked with a small amused smile on his face, causing yours to heat up “You don’t have to tell me, but you should tell Alessia whatever it is that's happening between you two, She’s looking out for you, you’re her responsibility as silly as that sounds I’ve never seen someone go into mother bear mode so quickly” he laughed again “go talk to her I won’t say anything” he smiled turning around again to face the monitors back facing you.

Turning around you made your way into the green room peaking your head in “Are you done being a psycho Les can we go watch the show now” you chuckle seeing her on the floor cuddled with Brian and Liv

“We sleep now, show later” she spoke out opening her arms for you to join which you did.

---

You guys slept halfway through Shawns set waking up just in time for bstage your favorite part. Making your way over to the corridor adjacent to his piano you were joined by Alessia and Liv Brian having to go help Connor with his camera’s it was just you girls.

Hearing the chords to “When you’re ready” on the piano fills the room you couldn’t help but let out a big smile, the song was so pretty and seeing the whole arena light up was something out of a book. Seeing Shawn perform on stage was a dream in itself he was made to do this.

Holding onto Liv and Alessia you didn’t even notice Shawn staring right at you while he was singing. Alessia hit your shoulder breaking you out of your little trance. Looking over at Shawn he smirked and sent you a wink not breaking eye contact which resulted in Liv letting out a squeal which he chuckled at. He finished his little melody and went into like to be you leaving you and the girls screaming the words at the top of your lungs.

When his little guitar solo started Alessia pulled you closer to her, her arm thrown over your shoulder “I know you guys are sleeping together” she spoke into your ear causing you to back up and look at her with wide eyes before she pulled you back to her “Brian told me” she let out a small smile shrugging her shoulders, her eyes showing admiration. She pulls you back in “He really likes you, you know. Brian said he doesn’t shut up about you” you pulled away again looking wide-eyed

“Les” you started

“No look at him” she nudges you to look at Shawn who is looking at you already singing straight at you and when you caught him he quickly looked away as if he was caught leaving him blushing. “He likes you” she squeezed your shoulders “You should’ve told me y/n I love you like a sister I just want you to be happy, clearly he makes you happy I don’t know how I'm just seeing it. I support whatever this is, even if this is just a friend with benefits thing which he would be a fucking idiot to do, I am there for you 100% okay” she looked at you and you felt your heart burst

Pulling her into a hug she hugged you back with more force. She was really your best friend.

Ruin started playing and you heard Liv over the guitar

“Shawn got a starring problem or something he keeps looking over here,” Liv asked chuckling and nudging you both causing you and Alessia to laugh.

After ruin ended you three headed back down the corridor not wanting to get run over by Shawn or Connor who runs back to the MainStage through the crowd from bstage. To your surprise you heard footsteps following you three, breaking apart from each other wanting to make room for Shawn and Connor you felt someone collide with your back bringing you into a big hug from behind.

Squealing at the sudden movement and sweaty body now sticking to you you heard Alessia and Liv burst into laughter at your attempt to steady yourself from falling to the ground at the sudden impact.

Turning your head around to look at Shawn you see him smiling from ear to ear his eyes lit up before you noticed he leaned in and captured your lips in a kiss hearing a gasp come from the girls and Connor who let out “I knew it”

Shawn pulled away chuckling, “Brian told me he told Alessia” he looked over to Alessia giving her an accusatory glance raising an eyebrow

“And what about it Mendes, taking my girl from me after I open your show as a favor” she jokes but looks at him seriously

“Sorry we didn’t tell you Les but she’s stubborn and wouldn’t agree to be my official girlfriend” he squeezed you as you glared at him “She wouldn’t even agree to go on a date with me because there's nothing to tell if we don’t” he mocked you joking and laughed looking at Alessia “but now that Alessia knows y/n be my girlfriend please if you say no you just make me look like a creep staring at you through an entire set” he chuckles pushing his hair out of his face

“mm ill think about it you joke” finally making your way to the MainStage and he stops in his tracks and groans

“no, you’re supposed to say yes” he whines which causes you all to laugh

“fine yes ill be your girlfriend now go before Cez kills you” you push him towards the stage but not before he can pull you into another kiss earning hollering from your friends around you.

He starts to walk back under the alcove but before he disappears he shouts “Alessia y/n is going to be on my bus now ha” he jokes and turns around

“In your dreams Mendes we still need to have a serious talk” she shouts back at him but louder and seriously which causes him to turn around quickly with wide eyes causing everyone to burst into laughter again before Cez pushes a guitar into his chest and shoves him up the stairs.

Alessia slings her arm over your shoulder “Ha he thinks he can take my girls away from me, over my dead body” she jokes grabbing onto Liv too

“Damn who am I suppose to date now if y/n has Shawn and Les has Brian” Liv pouts looking at you two

“I have who now?” Alessia’s eyes go big causing us to hit her she’s about to protest when Brian walks down the hall towards us

“Ready Alessia?” He asks causing me and Liv to nudge her

“Where are you taking her” I ask smirking at them two

“oh” Brian starts but his face heats up “We were gonna go get food before we have to get back to the busses and it gets impossible to leave” he lets out scratching the back of his head

“hmm okay I’ll allow it, this time” I joke as I see them both roll their eyes and walk out the main corridor to the green rooms and the back entrance

“Guess it's just me and you Liv” you sigh holding onto her making your way back out to the crowd

“So Shawn?” She wiggles her eyebrows towards you as you push her face away with your hand

Walking back out to the main stage Shawn makes eye contact once again sending a wink in your direction causing Liv to squeal and Shawn to laugh. Pulling her into a hug to shut her up.

The chords to fallin’ all in you begins to start and you grab Liv to slow dance with. As soon as Shawn finishes his little speech you and Liv are rocking side to side with his melodic voice in the background when you feel another body collide into you two. Alessia came back but changed into new clothes smiling from ear to ear putting her arms over the both of you. All three of you swaying back in forth singing to each other.

“You think I would leave my girls for the most romantic song during his set” she beams at you two “I love you guys” she kisses both of you on the cheek as you guys turn to watch Shawn staring at you three with a twinkle in his eye

This was your happy place you and your girls together supporting each other for everything.

---

A/N: thank you for being patient and for reading don’t forget to like and reblog or leave comments below again sorry this took so long I originally filed this request with Connor but I liked this version more. lmk if you want to see the original request but with Connor Xx

#shawn mendes x reader #shawn mendes #Shawn Mendes Imagine #shawn x reader #shawn mendes blurb #shawn mendes fluff #shawn mendes x you #alessia cara #shawn mendes au

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bitchsexuality · 5 years

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@animaliae

ok first off i’m sorry i took so long to reply!! i’ve been busy in the most tedious way possible so my brain’s not exactly my best friend right now. second off: THANK U SO MUCH these were so fun to answer!!

i’m putting all of these in the same post because i started talking and i could not Shut The Up, and i think one atrociously long post is better than four long posts when it comes to like, scrollability. scrollpastability? scroll-Something. and putting it under a readmore too for the same reasons

SO, from top to bottom:

weirdest character idea for D-N-D:

it’s an idea i’ve already had because i can’t come up with anything right now dksjfgbd, but

once i made a druid for a D//N/D-based CRPG who only cast spells when they gave him something edible (in theory ofc, the game didn’t let me eat my summoned bears... thankfully...), so i ended up with nothing but goodberries and several animal summoning spells. then i proceeded to cheat my way through the game, which defeated the point sdfgsd, but it was still fun concept-wise

also made me spend too much time wondering if the entangle spell’s vines could be eaten. i mean you can’t eat the WHOLE thing but maybe you could like, munch on it a little, or try to slurp it up like a noodle. it wouldn’t be tasty, it wouldn’t be easy, and it most definitely would not be healthy, but it’s like. the principle of the thing

if ur asking yourself WHY i did that… well there aren’t THAT many D/ND-based CRPGS out there and i’d already played that one —several times, in fact— so i wanted to try something different :0

i mean it’s not THAT weird tbh, but he’s the only OC i can think of right now that soooooort of fits? and my brain is like, a tundra of creativity at the moment. a deep tar pool that absorbs all inspiration and drags it, kicking and screaming, to its viscous doom. well you get the idea. or i hope you do because i sure fucking don’t

ideal ending for one of my characters:

hmmmm for like, original fiction characters i more or less have all their endings planned out? most of them ARE ideal because i am fully in control of their destinies and i am also a softhearted lidle bich who prefers stories with relatively uplifting/happy endings. or tbh even the ones that aren’t technically happy are still ideal in terms of character arcs, development, etc

(i might be giving myself way too much credit there though skdjgbdksjfg)

and —though this is super unlikely and mostly just me deceiving myself at this point— i do want to publish what i’m working on rn, so talking about endings would be a spoiler for something that does not exist and probably never will outside of my idiot fool head. so i’m gonna talk about an old OC that i’m not doing anything with anymore!

her name was elina and her entire deal was that she came from a family of very powerful witches who owned a, uh, i guess you could call it an archive? or a library?? idk, it was just an ABSURDLY large collection of magic-related books, and it pretty much contained all known arcane knowledge (though come think of it, “all known arcane knowledge” can’t have been THAT much because the archive was just one room. a huge fucking monster of a room yeah but like. still just One)

so anyway, her family members were very dutiful + responsible when it came to the archivelibraryroom thing, but they were also too traditional for her tastes? like they didn’t bother practicing/using magic, or experimenting, or looking for anything outside of books; they only cared about written things, and even then they did nothing but get the Very Important Books, put them in the archivelibraryroom and forget about them completely

then elina ran into a group of other magic-users who were investigating a weird phenomenon in her hometown, and she asked her family about it, but they essentially were like “oh if it doesn’t affect the books we don’t care lol anyway it’s your turn to clean the archivelibrary now”

but yeah i’m sure y’all can tell where this is going kjdfgbd elina was the typical YA protag in that she was super rebellious, so she turned her back on her family and left her house to help the group of inconveniently yet stereotypically teenage magic-users, made friends, learned about magic, blah blah blah

the issue is that i never gave that story an ending? like the closest thing to it was a vague “uhhhh elina goes back home to find the archivelibrary is burning down and pulls some kind of mysterious water magic out of her ass to save it; then her family apologizes, they begin to respect her and she stays with them to keep caring for the archivelibrary, But With A Progressive Twist”

the issue was that after writing around two chapters i realized i didn’t actually Have a plot, so i didn’t know what story that ending would be... ending... and since i couldn’t think of anything + i wasn’t THAT attached to the characters anyway i just gave up on it

but now that i’m thinking of it again, just for the sake of ending the Story That Never Was, i feel like making her earn the respect of her family just because she saved the books + proved she actually cares about that too is, idk, shallow? out of character?

because she believed that her family’s fixation on history + Neatly Documented stuff was holding them back and making things worse for everyone. she left her home behind because her ideals re.: magic —that it should grow and change to fit the context + people’s needs, and not the other way around— were so strong

OOF THIS IS GETTING SO FUCKING LONG KSDJGB i’m just gonna stop here and say: elina’s new ideal ending is pretty much that while she ends up in friendly terms with her family —because, in spite of their fundamental disagreements, they never hurt her— she doesn’t go back home and chooses to travel around the world instead, helping people in whichever way possible and freely sharing her knowledge with anyone who’s willing to listen and, at the same time, learning from them

i mean, the concept’s not too original ksjdbg just something i thought of super quick, and that’s just a half-assed attempt at closure for an OC i made when i was like… 9

headcanons about my favs:

ok this one’s hard because i’m not into any like… fandom things right now? i haven’t found anything that rly interests me or that i could see myself being passionate about, which sucks because i do kinda miss being into stuff with Established Content :(

so i’ve been focusing on my OCs + original stories and such. and i’m not sure if OC headcanons count as headcanons because i control canon so technically everything i come up with IS canon. then again it’s headcanon too because it’s a canon from my head because that’s where ideas come from. okay wait i’m not making any cents here x

but uhh knowing me i might think of something right after publishing this, so if that happens i’ll come back and edit this post :0

also just saying but if any of y’all know of something i could get into then lmk, i’m open to suggestions! preferably free stuff though... i’m beset by capitalisms

a favorite scene that i loved:

i can’t remember any in particular right now, either from my #content or somebody else’s SDFKJGBDF god my mind 😔 well i mean i’m gonna be a little bit full of meself and say that i’ve written things that i really like, especially imagery-wise, but i Also want to publish those someday… like i’ve also written original/OC-related stuff that i don’t plan on publishing, but i’m not THAT proud of them tbh :/

i was —emphasis on was— trying to write a short story about jasna (one of my D-N/D OCs, a cleric of oghma) that never really went anywhere, but i did post a snippet on my OC blog, and that’s what i hate the least out of all my recent attempts at writing? so i’m just gonna put it here again ig sdfgs (not actually linking to the OC blog post because it’s kind of a mess rn, i need to fix the theme + clean it up a bit)

if you got this far and read all of this nonsensical verbal monster: i love u with all my heart and i would legitimately die for u.

#otherworldly whispers #hope it's OK that i'm mentioning u btw!!!#just so u know i wasn't like. ignoring you or anything dsfkgsd #also if i'd answered the question directly it'd have shown up in ur activity feed anyway right? so technically it's the same #... i think...#long post #im talking a LONG ass fucking post that's not a joke or an exaggeration this bitch is LONG #text heavy #food ment - . / (Kind of? not really????)#family ment - . /#fire ment - . /#again kind of not really #ask me to tag - . /#bc im not sure how else to tag this skjdfb

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amphtaminedreams · 5 years

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All The Tattoos I Couldn’t Really Afford

Hi to anyone who’s reading!

I thought I’d write about my tattoos a lil bit.

Partly because I’d like to talk generally about tattoos and what they mean for people who have dealt with self-harm and poor body image and partly because I get questions now and again about the more practical side of things; who did them, how much did they hurt and probably the most frequent one, how much did they cost (I mean, only my entire livelihood and every last spare pound I had for about 2 years but nbd)? The point being that I can put all this information in one place, especially as I don’t plan to get any more in the foreseeable future.

See, as much as I get tired of people I don’t really know commenting on them, I suppose I did kind of bring it upon myself. Facially, I probably look about 15. I get told I'm exaggerating when I say that BUT I WAS STILL BUYING CHILD’S TICKETS ON THE BUS UP UNTIL LAST YEAR BC AIN’T NOBODY GOT TIME FOR £2.60 SINGLES. Where do you live for a bus single to cost £2.60 I hear you ask? In a tory heartland, my friend.

Anyway, the point is that I look pretty young to have a sort-of sleeve and tbh, I am. I’d say that for a lot of people, a sleeve is something you build on kinda throughout your life, not something you plan on getting pretty much the minute you turn 18. That isn’t exactly how it was for me either. I was more like 20 when I started on my left arm, lol. I started on the rest when I was 18 and had known most of the tattoos I wanted to get since I was about 14/15, so for quite a while. I think I always associated a tattooed version of me with a version of myself I liked and respected a lot more than the girl I saw myself as at that age, but I didn’t realise just how true that would be. The tattoos definitely aren’t the reason I’m so much more body confident than I was back then; I’m at a weight I feel more comfortable in, I’ve learned how to do my makeup better and I think I’ve grown into myself more. Plus, I got my braces off, which helps. The constant fear of having food in my teeth hardly conjures up a sense of nostalgia, lol. On top of that, seeing a wider and more diverse range of faces and body types celebrated online and in the media has definitely helped me too.

But one thing that I noticed is how much more respect having tattoos gives me for my own body. When you have talented men and women’s art all over you, it makes you feel like less of a body and more of a blank sheet. I think the attention moves away from the parts underneath that you might not like so much to something you don’t necessarily associate with yourself. It helps me to notice myself more objectively, with appreciation taking the place of scrutiny. And with regards to self-harm, on a practical level, I don’t want to damage somebody else’s hard work.

The first tattoo I actually got, about a month or so after I turned 18 was pretty simple. I found the studio by way of recommendation from someone who’s tattoo I liked, which imo is probably the best route to go down for your first one. Word of mouth is generally a pretty good indicator of what to expect.

The 5 planet formation on the back of my neck was based on a Tumblr photo I’d saved on my phone, though in the original design I believe the planets were on the person’s chest.

PROTIP: If you’re getting a tattoo based on something you found on Pinterest, Google Images or Tumblr, the best thing to do is first to probably make a note of the artist and ideally ask them for their permission. This is something I wish I’d done at the time; the majority of my tattoos are based on images I found on the sites I just mentioned and saved without thinking and I generally deleted the photos once I sent them to the tattoo artist. Understandably, artists see it as respect thing to credit them and if I do ever come across the designs some of my tattoos are based on, I will of course make sure to add their details to this post, BUT to be completely honest, nobody outside of the internet is that bothered if you copied a tattoo you saw on Pinterest one time.

I think the best thing to do is to ask your tattoo artist to put their own spin on a design and add to it, which is what I’ve generally done, and that way you should avoid anyone feeling like their work has been stolen. I like that approach anyway, especially if you’re going back to the same person for all your tattoos; it adds a consistency to them.

This being my first tattoo, there wasn’t really much of a deeper meaning behind it. I liked the way it looked and wanted something simple that could easily be covered. I got this done by dclxvi.tattoo on Instagram, and it cost around £40. In terms of pain, there wasn’t much at all. I thought it was going to be a lot worse from what others had told me, and more than anything I could feel the vibration of the needle. I’d give it a 1/10 on the pain threshold.

My second was the quote on my left side over my ribcage which reads “think deeply, speak gently, give freely and be kind”. This came from one of those cheesy typical middle class white people signs we usually put in our kitchens; we currently have about 6 and counting in ours. The full quote is “Think deeply, speak gently, love much, laugh a lot, work hard, give freely and be kind” but I thought that was a bit long winded so I kept the parts I liked. I suppose the meaning meaning of this is pretty self-explanatory, lol! When I was younger and still even now with the people I’m close to, I worry way too fucking much what people think of me. It’s a very cliche saying but at some point, I learnt that what others say about you says more about them than it does about you. From then, I started realising that as long as I know I do my best to treat people well, that’s the important thing and this tattoo is kind of just a reminder of that. IIRC, this one cost about £60 and was with the same artist as my first. She was really lovely and made me feel very comfortable so I went back to her for this one, and my next couple too. Again, even though it was on my ribs, I’d give it a 1/10 for pain.

I kinda lose track but I’m pretty sure it was over the summer of my 18th that I got the 3 you can see in the photo above, all still by the same artist. The first on this area of my arm was the quote “love yourself so no-one else has to” inside the heart/feminine symbol hybrid. Similarly, it’s quite self-explanatory but if I had to expand on it, it’s just a reminder that it’s not about what other people think and that as long as I’m happy in myself and BY myself, that’s what matters. This was around the £40 mark and I vaguely remember tattoos getting slightly more painful around this point as we’re getting into musclier territory. Not to make out I have guns or anything, lol, but I’ve always found that tattoos that are on top of muscle are the most difficult to sit through, still though I’d give it a 2/10 for pain. Shortly after I got the crystal ball with the quote underneath. The crystal ball is pretty much a copy of a tattoo I found on Pinterest by the tattoo artist Emily Malice/@emilymalice on Instagram:

I then chose a quote to add underneath it to make it my own which was: “it’s not in the stars to hold our destiny but in ourselves”. It’s the modernised version of a quote from the Shakespeare play Julius Caesar, and basically sums up the idea that if we want something, we have to go and get it ourselves. I’m not really a believer in fate or destiny or the idea that the universe has a bigger plan for us and though that might sound really pessimistic, I find it empowering in that we can go out and make our lives into anything we want them to be. Of course there are things that are out of our hands but for the most part, it’s down to us; I’m on that inner locus of control shit. And yes I remembered that from A-level psychology, lol. On the pain scale, also a 2/10.

Next was my Lana tattoo. Imagine copious amounts of the heart eyes emoji here. It’s based on this drawing:

Which I cannot find the artist of fucking ANYWHERE. The image is all over the bloody internet and returned about 30 different results on TinEye but I can’t for the life of me find the original version so if anybody knows, lmk!

Anyway, it was my first of 2 Lana tattoos and it’s probably my favourite of them all. I’ve been a hardcore stan of this woman since I was about 12 and Video Games went viral (yes, I was a very pretentious 12 year old/general human being) and her music has been my soundtrack to EVERYTHING for the last 7/8 years. I’m a basic bitch and so Born to Die: Paradise Edition and Ultraviolence are still my favourite albums of hers but I wanted to pay tribute to the Lust for Life cover with the flowers in the hair because it represented her moving towards inner peace and contentment and I loved that.

COST: approx. £70

PAIN: 2/10

That was my last tattoo for a while until about November 2018, from which point onwards I was getting them pretty much constantly up until a few months ago. I was no longer at uni, had a part time job and for the first time had proper disposable income, so I got my first proper “piece” tattoo:

This one I very shittily designed myself, though the lip part was based on this tattoo by Heidi Kaye/@heidikayetattoo on Instagram:

The lips were always going to be the centrepiece though it was originally a much bigger design. The idea was that it would be a piece based around the elements, water, earth, air and fire, with the things that represents each being something sentimental to me. Well, apart from the lips which would represent the passion of the fire signs; I just thought they looked cool, lol. On a less shallow note, the butterflies, which represent air (along with the moons), I associate with my mum as she’s always wearing butterfly patterned outfits and jewellery. Yeah, I don’t know how you can claim a whole ass insect either but apparently they’re her thing! And similarly, the scorpion is for my sister; it represents water, scorpio being a water sign. She and I used to watch Orphan Black together and took to affectionately calling each other “sestra” instead of sister like the Ukranian character Helena pronounces it in the show. At one point, I believe it’s season 3, her character hallucinates a scorpion (don’t ask, that show was pretty wack at times), hence the scorpion tattoo. Lastly, the flowers and the agate rock represent earth, which is the home of my sun and moon sign. There were originally going to be a lot more details to the piece but I wanted to keep it on the back of my arm and when I showed it to my new tattoo artist, Matt Cassy (cassytattoo on Instagram), he simplified it for me so that it would fit. It cost around £140 and took the longest time yet, but I’d give it a 1/10 for pain and it’s my favourite tattoo after my Lana one, probably because it’s the most individual.

Next after this was my sunflower and it took me to one of kindest and most talented people I’ve ever met! I’m pretty sure this was the first one she did for me and from this point onwards, I went back to Bianca Kidd (biancakiddtattoo on Instagram) for 90% of my tattoos. It’s a pretty basic piece but I really wanted a tattoo on my shoulder and preferably something that will never really go “out of style”. Flower tattoos are so simple but the absolute prettiest imo and I don’t think I’ll ever look back on this one and be like “what was I thinking?” I got Bianca to add the stars which were SUPPOSED to be in the form of the constellations of my sun, moon and rising signs, Capricorn, Virgo and what I thought was Scorpio but turns out is actually Cancer. Shoulda known considering how much of a needy, over-emotional twat I am, lol. On the one hand, it seems kinda contradictory to my crystal ball tattoo quote to believe in astrology but on the other, I think there might be something to the time of year a person is born and the environmental factors that come with that (climate, financial patterns etc.) affecting a person’s temperament slightly. It could all be a load of BS, considering the vagueness of most star signs and our tendency to want to agree with positive statements about ourselves, and I DEFINITELY don’t believe in the stars having any impact on your future or fate but it’s still fun to read about either way. Would be even funner if I didn’t have regrets about getting my natal chart wrong and being sure enough that Scorpio was my rising sign to get a tattoo referencing it every time I did, but there you go. If anyone asks, the placement of the stars is TOTALLY. RANDOM.

COST: approx. £140

PAIN: I find that even if a tattoo isn’t in a super painful position, your skin begins to get a little raw and thus more sensitive when it’s under a needle for a long period of time so 3/10

Next was the snakey boy on the inside of my right arm which I got just before Christmas, again by Bianca:

I don’t have much to say about this one other than it’s pretty much a copy of one I saw on Pinterest that I’d saved quite a while before (unfortunately I can’t find it anywhere now but if anybody does know the source lmk!) because I fricken love snakes and think they’re cute and misunderstood af. Not as cute as cats but definitely up there. Bianca changed it slightly by adding the dots around the rose and we went from there, and the main thing I remember is that this one actually hurt. Close to the armpit and on top of the muscle is a bad combination and I’m totally in awe of the madmen that go right into the pit itself. It cost £80 and for pain I’d give it an 8/10.

Cop the exact same pose only with the other arm instead, but I also got my mermaid around this time:

She was done by Polly (biffinx on instagram) who’s an apprentice tattoo artist. If you are looking for a slightly cheaper tattoo, apprentices are a good shout, as they usually charge slightly less, though in Polly’s case are equally as skilled at what they do; you’re also helping them build their portfolio so it’s a win-win situation for both you and the tattoo artist. That being said, make sure you do your research and get someone who’s good at the style you’re looking for before you commit. Instagram is often your best bet, and if not, tattoo shops often have websites with photo galleries showcasing each artist’s work. It might take you a while to find what you’re looking for but you really can’t compromise when you’re talking about something that’s probably going to be on your body forever. NBD. I got the mermaid as a nod to both growing up by the sea and how much I loved to swim when I was younger. I feel like I’m going to end up saying this far too many times but she’s one of my favourites.

COST: £60

PAIN: 8/10

I also got the other 3 tattoos on my upper right arm during this time. Bianca did the satanic kitty (can’t find the source of the tattoo it was based on! again, if anyone does lmk!), because of course I had to have a cat tattoo, and that was around £50 and a 3/10 on the pain scale. The two shells, which again are a reminder of where I grew up, were done by Terry Weeks (terryweekstattoo on Instagram) and cost £70 for both. I’d give them a 2/10 for pain.

Next were my knee and calf tattoo in February of this year, for which I went back to Matt Cassy:

He did the two of them for £140 and it took around 3 hours. Palm trees always remind me of California which I absolutely love, and the spider’s web was kinda just because...spooky, ya know? Honestly, I hate spiders and I equally hate that it gave the old man on the bus the inspiration to make the joke (imagine this being said in a strong Dorset accent) “you’ve got ae spiderr on yerr leg” at me that one time on the bus. Plus, I’d give my knee tattoo a strong 9/10 for pain. Realistically, it probably wasn’t any more painful than the inner upper arm tattoos but you have the added burden of suppressing your reflexes; when somebody is carving into the skin on your leg, it really shouldn’t come as a surprise that your knee jerk reaction is to...well, kick that person in the face. Or away from you at least. I also got the elbow pit tattoo on my left arm from Bianca around this time for £160. 8/10 for pain on that one.

And then, there was the 10/10 in March. The things I do for Miss Lana Del fucking Rey.

Because the Just Ride tattoo above my knees HURT. I wasn’t expecting it at all but BLOODY HELL. My tattoo artist actually had to get the numbing spray out for this one. It was, again, the combined effect of it being on top of muscle and the need to resist my reflexes so that I didn’t flinch, which clearly I didn’t do a very good job at, hence the spray. I think my reaction at the time was kind of, what the fuck, has this stuff always existed? But the more you can put off asking for the spray, the better, because used in large quantities it can be pretty dangerous. This was the only tattoo I felt I did need it for because I literally couldn’t sit still and there was a risk of me jogging the tattoo artist, Megan, the amazing @bunnystattoos on Instagram. Her stuff is adorable and she has such a strong vision and brand and if I was going to get another, I’d love to just give her a starting point and see where she’d take it from there. Like, I’m not a Star Wars fan but LOOK at this set she designed for someone else:

I also got my Dream On tattoo with her in the same session and in total she charged me £110 for both which is pretty reasonable considering how in demand she is (and how much of a total baby I was about the Just Ride tattoo). I chose lyrics from Ride because lyrically, it’s probably one of my favourite songs of hers, plus the opening 30 seconds are pure magic.

Megan also did the linework orchid lady on the back of my arm around the same time:

I suppose you could say this is my most “meaningful” tattoo, because it was inspired by something my care-coordinator said to me about my diagnosis of BPD. In amongst all the other less than complimentary comments, she told me that it just means we need a little more care and sensitivity than others, like orchids do in comparison to other flowers, but that that doesn’t make us any less deserving of care or less beautiful. Basically, in the right circumstances, we can bloom too. And I liked that.

This one cost £80 and was about a 3/10 for pain. I can’t find any photos of the tattoo it was based on so for the millionth time, if you do know, hmu.

From April-May I got a shitload of tattoos and to be honest, I can’t really remember what order it was in so I’m going to group them into artists. First, the ones I got from Polly:

The anatomical heart I got in March and was based on this tattoo by Harry Plane (@harry.plane on Instagram):

COST: £50

PAIN: 7/10

And the sun and moon kissing was also around £50. 2/10 for pain.

Bianca did a few for me too, starting with the floral design on my lower left arm around March, which was probably my biggest piece yet:

The floral piece started off as a 4/10 though it creeped up to a 6 the closer it got to my wrist. Going over raised scars is also slightly more painful, something to bear in mind. Along with the Keep It Cute tattoo (6/10) on my wrist:

It came to £180.

Bianca also did the linework of my favourite GIF, like, ever.

Yes, it’s Go Go Yubari from Kill Bill about to try and maim The Bride, who don’t get me wrong I am perennially rooting for, but come on. It’s an iconic moment in film history Once Upon a Time in Hollywood wishes it could replicate. 4/10 for pain due to it being over scarring, otherwise we’re talking about the kind of placement that’s a reliable 2/10. I also got wrapped into the whole renaissance inspired trend and got Bianca to do me a little cherub gap filler based on this flash sheet I found on Google Images (link to the image found here https://creativemarket.com/Sonulkaster/280110-Angels-and-Cupids-collection.?utm_source=Pinterest&utm_medium=CM):

I suggested the cigarette as a cheeky little addition, lol! I’d give it a 5/10 for pain, being close to the inside of my arm n all and it set me back around £40. Unfortunately, I don’t have any great quality photos of it that I haven’t already used in the post but here’s one where you can see it a little bit (idk why my hair looks so brown and basically my natural colour in this photo but I DO NOT APPROVE, it is not at all fitting with my wannabe mildly goth aesthetic):

Finally, we have my last 2 tattoos.

See, getting my finger tattoos done was an absolute necessity before I went inter-railing and not because I’m an over-dramatic bitch who wanted a little something to make my multitude of me-holding-food photos more aesthetically pleasing (though of course it helped on that count), but because I made the fucking huge mistake of trying to stick and poke them myself. To be fair, they weren’t THAT bad at first. Like I was pretty pleased with them. Buuuut they faded super quickly and I guess that’s the issue with stick and pokes, especially on your fingers, where even professional tattoos are a bit of a flight risk anyway. So, after having to go over them a million times and spilling Indian ink all over my laptop keyboard, I decided to admit defeat and get Bianca to go over them for me. It cost £30 and I’d only give it a 4/10 on the pain scale. After months of having to explain my shitty faded finger tattoos to everyone and convince far too many customers at work that they weren’t just drawn on with a sharpie, I’m finally happy with them. Lesson learnt. Don’t stick and poke kids, especially not near your laptop.

Lastly is my “Wouldst Thou Like to Live Deliciously?” quote that Polly did for me:

The cost of this tattoo? £30. Having to explain to every person who hasn’t seen The VVitch what it actually says and then what it means too? Priceless. Hotel? Tri-

I joke. It’s actually very annoying having to explain what it says and vague what it means, not because I don’t EXACTLY know but also because I feel like a snobby film hoe (which is quite an accurate description of me) every time I do. The VVitch is super good, guys. Please watch if you’ve got the patience, it’s a slow burn.

Anyways, I hope anybody who read to the end enjoyed the post and found it informative! If you have any other tattoo questions, shoot me a message and I will definitely respond. I think one of the most common things I get is people saying they’re too indecisive to get a tattoo and that they want one, but are worried they’ll go off it. What I think is that once you get your first, getting a tattoo starts to feel like less of a momentous decision. Like there are tattoos I have that I probably wouldn’t get now but that doesn’t mean I regret them because, although it sounds cheesy, they sort of become a part of you and represent what you liked at the time. The more you have, the less significant one individual tattoo is. At the end of the day, are you ever going to regret getting a tiny rose? Worst case scenario, you can always get a cover up or if you’re brave and rich enough (lol), get laser removal. In terms of aftercare, I’ve always been kind of sloppy. Follow the instructions your tattoo artist gives you but also, if you don’t get time to moisturise them, it’s not the end of the world. TRY not to itch them but one tiny scratch isn’t going to permanently damage your tattoo.

One thing I will say, though, that’s probably kind of obvious to everyone but me (being the dumbass I am) is that you should NOT go in the sea right after getting a tattoo. It is literally the equivalent of pouring salt in an open wound and whilst it didn’t ruin my Lana, it really fucking stung for about 3 days afterwards. I’m an endless treasure chest of protips, didn’t you know?

Thank you for reading!

Lauren x

#tattoos #ink #lana del rey #lana #lana del rabies #inkaddict #tattoed girls #ewwhatacringeyhashtag #spooky #spoopy #personalstyle

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