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rudystopit · 3 years

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Study Date

[iida Tenya x f!reader]

summary: you and the other girls started making bets on who the class rep. has a crush on. you decided you’d find out yourself.

*all characters are third years*

warning: nsfw but wholesome, stripping, squirting, overstimulation, praising, and fingering.

wc: 3.4k

You sat with mina and momo at lunch. they sat quietly. You look around. You see the class rep. You two make eye contact and he shyly waves. You flash a bright smile and wave back. You turn back to the other two.

“Let’s make a bet,” you say. You catch their attention. “Who does Mr Iida Tenya have a crush on?” You smile.

“$5, no one,” momo says, “he seems like he’d be the type to say ‘he doesn’t have time’” she laughs.

“$10 Uraraka,” mina says. You write down their bets as the rest of the girls show up.

“Whatcha writing?” Uraraka asks, looking at the paper.

“Bets, want in?” You tell her. you move the notebook so she can see it.

“What are we betting on?” Tsuyu asks, sitting next to mina.

“Who Iida likes,” mina laughs, “I said Uraraka,” Uraraka’s face goes red.

“$5 y/n,” Jirou says, sitting down next to momo.

“Why me?” you ask.

“he stares at you all the time,” Jirou says.

“yeah,” all the girls say.

“i change my bet,” mina says. “$10 on y/n.”

“how about i ask him on a date and you guys pay me the bets, since you guys all think he likes me,” you sneer.

“ok,” mina says.

“fine. $5 each,” you say, getting up. you walk over to where iida is sitting. he’s reading and he looks up to see you. he smiles.

“hello, y/n,” he says sweetly.

“hey, i need help studying for that test. can you help me out?” you ask.

he smiles and says he wouldn’t mind and to come by his dorm this afternoon and he’ll help you. you thank him and walk back to the table. they all act natural when you turn around.

“so?” tooru asks.

“i’m going to his dorm tonight to study,” you sit down and they talk about what think is gonna happen. they start another bet if you’re gonna sleep with him or not.

that afternoon, you walk to his dorm. you wore a simple hoodie and some shorts. you held your books in hand. you didn’t need help on study but it was the only thing you could think of on the spot that didn’t sound to “datey.”

you knocked on his door. you heard some shuffling and the door opens. he stood in the doorway with a white shirt and some sweats. you smile. “hey, y/n, come in,” he opens the door wider.

his dorm was super clean. like show room clean. you doubt there’s even a speck of dust. damn he must clean everyday. you sit at the coffee table and he sits on the side next to you. he opens the textbook and starts reading what the test is going to be about. you zone out to his calming voice. you start to drift off to sleep.

“y/n!” he yells. you snap awake. “really? you asked for help,” he’s voice is rough.

“sorry, it just so boring,” you huff. you put your head on the table. he looks at you. a small smile creeps onto his face. you shoot up with an idea. “let’s make it a game!”

“like what?” he asks. you smile.

“ok, hear me out, every question i get right, i get to ask you a question wrong, one piece of clothing off,” his face gets red, “your choice of clothes, if you want,”

“no,” he almost yells. his face is super red.

“come on tenya~” you beg. “studying is so boring so let’s make it fun!”

“n-no y/n,” he stumbles. you give up and put you’re head on the table. you play with your hands, embarrassed. he probably hates you now, you thought. “well, maybe we could,” you turn your head to him. “w-we could try it. i just don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” he played with his hands.

“ok,” you answered.

“ok, umm,” he asks a question about the cell structure. you messed up the er and golgi body. his face goes beat red when he had to pick something for you to take off. “s-shorts, i guess, you don’t want to it’s fin-“ you stand up and pull them down and toss them to the side. you plop back down.

he asks about aerobic respiration. you answer correctly. “shirt,” he pulls it over his head. he looks away as you look at his toned abs.

he asked about the main parts of the cell. “easy, membrane, nucleus, and ctyoplsm,” you answer. “left sock” he gives you a weird look and pulls off his left sock.

“ok describe a lysosome,” he asks. he leans his elbows on the table as you described something and is totally not even close to a lysosome. “wrong,” he smiles. “give me your left sock,” he smiles. you take it off and throw it at him.

“here’s an easy one,” he says

“hey i’ve gotten two correct so far!” you yell.

“ok, do you want a hard one?” he leans over to you. “you really want me to take your clothes?”

your face goes red. “just ask the question.”

“where are organelles found?” he asks.

“in the cytoplasm,” he smiles.

“let me guess, my right sock,” he laughs. you hold out your hand. he pulls it off and hands it to you. “described cell theory,” you ramble on about cell theory but you miss a small part. “ooh so close but you missed apart, hand over the sock,” you glare at him and give him your right sock.

he asked about the parts of a nucleus. you answer. you almost didn’t get it right up, but you caught yourself. “well, gimme the pants,” his face is bright red the whole time he takes off his pants. he sits back down and won’t look you in the eyes. you’ve never seen his legs up close or with out the mufflers. you let your hand crease his calf. he tenses up. he crosses his arms and closes his eyes as you feel his leg.

“does it ever hurt?” you ask mindlessly.

“sometimes,” he answers. “not my legs but the rest.” you’ve heard about his quirk but you never could fully understand it. “let’s get back to studying,” his tone felt serious. he asks about the mitochondria and you say some dumb shit.

“come on. it’s literally the easiest thing to remember,” he yells.

“damn i’m sorry,” without thinking you take off your hoodie and hand it to him. he freezes and his face goes instant tomato red. you completely forgot what bra you were wearing. the lacy black one that you only wear when it’s a special occasions or laundry day. your cheeks get hot as he stares. “next question!” you yell.

“uh... ummm... oh, here, which organelle’s function is likely to be impaired because of an mutation?” he asks trying not to look at you.

“i don’t know ribosomes,” he looks at you with wide eyes. ha you got it right.

“c-correct,” he stumbles. he straights get up.

“the glasses! four eyes!” you’re beyond red. you hold out your hand. he takes them off. you stare at him. he only got hotter. he looks at you squinting.

“what?” he asks.

“n-nothing, next question!” you say looking away.

“Which of the following observations tells her that the organism is eukaryotic?” he asks with the book inches away from his face.

“ughh ribosomes again?” you say. he squints at you.

“no,” he quickly looks away and holds out his hand. you take off your bra and hand it to him. he looks at it and squints. face, red. he drops it. “bad time to ask for my glasses back?”

“iida tenya did you just flirt with me!” you joke.

“n-no i meant to read the questions!” he gets all fluster. you put the glasses across to him. he puts them on and blinks a few times. then he looks at you. his mistake because he instantly looks away with a mad blush.

you laugh and crawl over to him. he refuses to look at you. you grab his chin. he looks at your face only. “it’s okay, tenya. i don’t mind,” you drop his chin and grab his hand. you bring it up to your chest. he doesn’t know what to do at first but he looks down and starts squeezing it softly. his cheeks are super red. you smile at how cute he is. his hand drops and he turns tkt be book.

“well we should get back to work,” you decided not to fight it and sat down and waited for the question. “are you single?”

“yes,” you answer. “hey that correct!” you joke. he looked at you like deer in headlights. “i’m joking. also why would i ask to play this game if i dating someone?”

“i don’t know,” he says shyly. “What type of microscope would be most effective for studying a living cell?” he asks.

you thought a little bit then answered magnifying glass. he looks at you. “wrong” you got up and then turned around. you slowly pulled down your panties. you tossed them at him which he dodged. you laugh and sit back down.

“umm, Which of the following choices correctly describes the composition of a ribosome?” he asked.

“contains RNA, proteins, and... lipids?” you ask. he pinched the bridge of his nose, he sighs.

“no,” he looks at you. “what now?”

“hmm. you seem like you’ve never touched a girl so i guess everyone i get wrong you can explore?”

he’s overwhelmed. he’s way over his head. you broke him. “n-no,”

“fine ask me a question about myself,” you say leans back on your elbows. your whole body on display. he couldn’t help but stare.

“Based on the diagrams, which organism(s) are eukaryotic and why?” he slides the book to you. you sit up and stare. he soaked in every inch of your body.

“2 and 3? cause? they both have the tails?” you questions.

“come on y/n,” he huffed. “are you doing this on purpose?”

“yes,” you answer bluntly. he’s jerks back stunned.

“what do you mean?” he asks.

“nope, one question per lost,” you wave your figure in his face.

“Which of the following junctions form a watertight seal between neighboring cells?” then he lists four things. you think about it and try remembering that lesson. you remember hearing tight junction.

you get close to tenya and you put your index finger on the band of his boxers. you whisper in his ear “tight junction,” you snap his waistband. you sit back down facing away as he takes them off. you look over your shoulder. he’s scowling at you.

he flips through the book, “What is the primary function of the rough endoplasmic reticulum?” he asks and looks at you. you stare off thinking of the answer.

“modifying proteins!” you shout. he smiles.

“okay, hit me, what something your dying to know?” he laughs leaning on the table to hide his lap.

“virgin?” you ask.

“...yeah,” he says shyly.

“awww,” you yell and put your hand on his arm.

“Which of the following proteins attach desmosomes to one another?” he asks.

“a what?”

“desmosomes are junctions that attach themselves to its neighbors,” he explains. you move closer. you warm your arms around his. he tenses up and tries to push you off.

“like this?” you laugh.

“y-yes y/n g-get off,” he gets you off.

“hmmm, connexins?” you ask.

“nope, why are you doing this?” he asks in a hella scary tone.

“because,” you answer laying down, looking at the ceiling. you turn to him. he’s rubbing his temples.

“no seriously y/n!” he yells.

“damn fine, because i wanted to know if you liked me,” you answer sitting up. you tweedle with your hand. “mina and the other girls said they catch you staring at me and we wanted to know if you liked me,” you mumble. “it’s fine you don’t and i can leave if you want,” you reach over to grab your hoodie.

he grabs your wrist, “we’re not done studying,” what the fuck is up with him and study...

you sit back down and he looks through the book. “ah, Which of the following is a function of the extracellular matrix?” and he lists stuff out.

“i don’t know, storing genetic info?” you say shrugging. you weren’t feeling this anymore. you feel exposed and kinda tired.

“wrong, do you like me?” he asks.

“i guess,” you look at your feet. “after today yeah,”

“ok, Which of the following statements is true regarding gap junctions?” he asks.

“tenya, i don’t know, can we just stop,” you ask.

“nope,” he sighs, “fine, here’s a different question, Which of the following statements regarding chloroplasts is false?”

“thylakoids are pigments found in the chloroplast that’s what give plants the green color,” you sigh.

“correct,” he says. “what’s your question?”

“can i leave?”

“no, ask a better one,” he rolls his eyes.

“fine, who do you like?” you huff looking at the book. he moves next to you and grabs your chin. he lightly kisses you. it takes a second for you to process what is going on. he pulls away. he puts his hand on the back of his neck and laughs.

“i’ve liked you for awhile now. i just thought you had i think with someone mina is friends with,” he smiles. you just blank stare at him. you brain is somehow empty but also having a million consecutive thoughts at the same time. “sorry, you can leave if you want,” he moves back to his spot on the floor.

you practically lunge at him. your arms around his neck. you sit on his lap. you smash your lips against his. he’s taken by surprise but he closes his eyes and his hands make their way to your hips. you smile into the kiss. you part your lips and swipe your tongue across his lips. he pulls away.

“sorry, i’m not tha-“ you cut him off but kissing him and shoving your tongue into his mouth. you explore ever inch and your fingers tangle in his hair. his hands explore your body. he feels every inch of your back, ass and shoulder.

you pull away with a string of silva connecting you two. “i want to,” you pause. he thinks for a second. his eyes widen and he blushes.

“are you sure?” he asks. “we don’t have to it you don’t want to,”

“do you want too?” you ask.

he looks you on his lap, “yes, a lot,” he smiles. you get off of him and stand up. you hold out your hands for him. he grabs them and stand up. he pulls you to him and you rest your head on his chest. he kisses your head. you look up at him and he kisses your forehead. he starts to walk and you stumble back. he keeps giving you small pecks around your face. you giggle as he plays with your hands while walking. the cold back hit the wall.

he leans over you. he looks down at you and smiles. you smile back.

“you’re so beautiful,” he whispers. he dips his head to your neck and kisses till he find the spot that makes you melt. he leaves it purple and he drops your hands. his hands travel down your sides and onto your thighs. he grabs them and pushes you up. you hop in his arms. he grips right under your ass

“little hands there, lover boy,” you laugh.

“i’ve been wait so long for this, let me,” he winks and carries you to his bed. he lays you down gently. he kisses your neck and leaves a trail of small kisses down your chest and to you stomach. he rubs your hips. you tangle you fingers in his blue hair.

he smiles and moves away from you. you sit up, watching him. he squats down to his dresser and shuffles the clothes around. you hear a box get ripped open. you start laughing. of course he’s prepared. he looks over his shoulder.

“you’re cute,” you say. he blushes even more and you hear the ripping of plastic. he puts the condom on and walks back to you. he leans down and cups your face. he smiles down at you.

“are you sure?” he asks. you nod. “use your words, darling,” his thumb rubs your cheek.

“yes, tenya, i’m 100% sure i want you,” you whisper. he kisses your forehead and he pushes his tip in. you moan into his chest. he’s grateful you can’t see his face. you grab his hips and pull him closer.

he stretches you out. everything about him is huge so why wouldn’t his dick be just as big. you squeeze your eyes shut and moan louder into his chest. he bottoms out.

“are you ok?” he asks.

“yes ten,” you smile. he leans down and kisses your cheeks and travels down to your neck. he kisses your collarbone. you roll your hips slightly and tenya’s breathing hitches. you move him hips and he takes control. he slowly thrusts in and out. you wrap your legs around his hips. your arms snake around his back. he hugs you and picks up the pace.

“damn, y/n you feel so good,” he whispers. he starts slamming into you. you claw into his back and moan into his neck. “god you sound amazing,” he loves how your pussy clenches around him. he starts groaning in your ear and he comes. he lays on your and pants on your neck. he pulls out and walks to the bathroom.

you hear the water running from the sink. you lay there. he comes back and crawls in bed behind you. his huge arms wrapping around you. he kisses the back of your neck. he picks you up and sides underneath you. he’s sitting up against the headboard and you’re snuggled into his chest. one of his hands slides down your stomach. he slips two fingers in between your folds. he rubs a small circle around your clit. you bite your lip and move your legs wider. he keeps one of his arms across your chest.

“come on, darling, i want to hear you,” he says and moves his fingers faster. you let out a breathy moan. he kisses your shoulder. he moves his two fingers to your entrance. he slips them in. you out his name. he pumps his fingers for a little bit then curls them. you try to arc your back but his arm holds you against his chest.

his fingers rub against the rough part of your pussy. he moves his fingers at an inhuman speed. you moan out, “come on princess, come on my fingers,” with that you come undone on his fingers. he keeps his pace and you ride out your high until you feel like you have to pee. he keeps going.

“tenya, too much,” you moan out gripping onto his arm and wrist. he keeps going. yelled out and you felt a liquid flow out of you. you pant and you bury your face into his arm.

“yes, good girl,” he pulls his fingers out of your aching pussy. you watch him rub his fingers together with the slick fluid. he kisses your neck. “don’t worry baby. i just know the female body,” he kisses your shoulder.

he scoops you up bridal style and walks you to the bathroom. he sits you on the toilet while he starts a bath. you head swirl and you felt like passing out. you hang your held and close your eyes. tenya moves to sit in between your legs. his arms wrap around you waist. you put your hand on his head. you pet his soft hair. you two sat like that for a few minutes.

he moves away and feels the water. he takes your hands and pulls you up. he kisses your forehead. he pulls your closer into a hug.

“you’re amazing,” you whisper. he chuckles and pulls away. he climbs into the bath and follow in with him. you lay your head on his chest and the warm water relaxes your muscles. his arms are wrapped tightly around you arms. you played with his fingers. you drift off the sleep.

a warm sun hits your face. your eyes slowly open and your met with a sleeping tenya. you smile and shuffle closer to him. he smiles and grabs your waist and pulls you to his chest. you kiss him. he kisses back and opens his sleepy eyes.

“that’s a great way to wake up,” he mumbles. you giggle and snuggle into his chest.

#iida #iida tenya #iida smut #iida tenya smut #smut #bnha smut #bnha iida #my hero academia #my hero academy smut #mha smut #mha iida #mha fic #fanfic #fanfiction #bnha fanfic #mha fanfic

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 years

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Northern Exposure | Something in the Air

❄ Part 1 of the mini-series ❄

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series); violence, creepiness on part of our boys, predatory behaviour, Bucky’s an asshole, they’re all too lonely and too desperate, mistaken identity.

This is dark! fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Pairings: Sam Wilson x Reader, Steve Rogers x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader, A Bad Time x Reader

Series Synopsis: You’re a nature photographer stationed up north but the arctic isolation comes to an unexpected and unpleasant end.

Note: I started this ages ago and finally got the energy to finish, it’s four parts and provided my life doesn’t continue to fuck around I should have em all up in the next days. Also as always, cracking away at all the other fics I’ve hooked you into.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

The days were short and the nights long. So far north, time seemed not to exist as you chased the fleeting sun with your lens. Your existence was only demarcated by the fortnightly delivery of supplies left at your door as you were often out pursuing an elusive snow fox or wakeful owl. The world seemed small up here and you felt like the only person left alive.

Perched up on a branch precariously, you teetered as you focused your camera at its end. It was the perfect composition, snow blurred in the background as you focus on the scratching along the bark, the remnants of some owl or smaller critter. An abstract in your series, certainly, but interesting nonetheless. Besides, your editor would be happy enough with the close up you’d captured of a reindeer, its antlers the focal point of the shot.

Content, you climbed down, barely keeping yourself from slipping entirely down the trunk to a crash landing. Back on the ground, your boots sank into the snow, halfway up your calf, and you capped the lens of your camera. You tucked it under your parka and glanced around at the sparse grey trees.

Your eyes flew up as you heard a snap in branches not far from those you stood beneath. You held your breath and listened. It might be another opportunity. The early flight of an owl. You followed the sound, your steps muffled by the snowy carpet below. But that natural silence of the arctic returned and you ended up searching for air. Not a noise.

You sighed and turned back to look at the horizon. It was growing dark and you were best to return to your little cabin before long. It would be a moonless night and without the silver guardian above, it would make a nocturnal trek even harder. As you took a step, it seemed to echo and you stopped again. Your ears perked up and you shifted your hat to hear a bit better.

There was nothing. You frowned and turned. Only the snow and the trees against the greying sky. You shrugged off your unusual paranoia and carried on. You took the treacherous path back to your remote habitat. It was just you and your cameras; you and the north. An assignment you’d loathed at first but come to cherish. Isolation had a keen way of introducing one’s self to them.

You stepped up onto the small porch, the aluminum roofing and the tarnished and dented siding made it seem like little more than a lost shed. There was a single room inside, a small bed with a woven blanket, a wooden counter with an old basin and a stove top run on gas. The out house was further back, hard to find in a storm, but as long as you counted your steps, you rarely got lost.

You pushed through and turned the wooden latch that held the door shut. You untied your boots on the salt-stained rubber mat and left them there as you hung your damp, cold parka and shed your thick snow pants. You took off your hat and gloves and left them on the small shelf beneath the hook.

You took out a can of chili and dumped it in the small scratched pan. You lit the burner and sat on the single chair built of logs as you waited for it to warm. The wind swept up outside the shuttered windows and you shivered. You went to the small woodstove and twisted the iron handle of the door. You carefully built a fire as the smell of your dinner filled the cabin.

You left the door of the stove open to heat up the place and turned off the burner. You moved the pot onto the counter and took a bowl from the cupboard. A distant clatter sounded from outside. You frowned and kept yourself from grabbing the pot. You sighed as the noise repeated.

Several times before the wind had torn open the outhouse door and slammed it back and forth throughout the night. One time, it had been a curious bear. You hoped for the former as you shoved your feet into your boots and haphazardly pulled on your jacket. In and out. You’d secure the door and be back for your dinner before it got cold.

Outside, the sky had almost darkened entirely. You clicked on the flashlight you kept by the door and shut it behind you. You stomped down into the snow and squinted at the circle of light as you rounded the edge of the house. You neared the outhouse and sighed as you found it locked up tight. It couldn’t have been your imagination; you’d heard something.

You huffed and turned back. You swept the flashlight back and forth as you searched for a creature sneaking around or whatever item the wind had tried to carry away. There was nothing. You followed your footprints back to the house and climbed up the steps.

The door was open and you noticed the much larger puddled footprint on the porch too late. The fire had been snuffed and the single lantern was dead. Your wrist was grabbed as you tried to angle the flashlight around the room and you were drawn inside and pinned against the door.

A cold barrel pressed to your chin and your eyes widened. Your arm was twisted up until the flashlight blinded you and lit the unfamiliar face before you. You blinked and shook your head helplessly.

“Quite the hiding spot,” The deep voice added to the icy nip of the air.

“What--”

“Don’t try to act dumb. It might’ve worked with Wilson but not me.” He snarled and you released the flashlight as you tried to wriggle free. “Stop!”

The light fell to the floor and bounced as he wrenched your arm up and pushed the gun harder under your chin.

“I have orders to take you alive… if I can,” he sneered, “doesn’t mean I will.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you grunted as he had you on tip toes against the wall, the flash light rolled on the floor and sent shadows around the room, “I’m not… I’m not whoever you think I am.”

“Save it, Ursa,” he hissed and pulled you away from the wall, gun still taut to your skin, “0r should I say Astur.”

“No, no, it’s not me,” you pleaded, confused as he turned you away from him and angled you towards the bed, the muzzle now pressed to the back of your head. “I’m just a photographer. You’ll see. Look through my stuff. It’s just cameras and photos. It’s--”

“Shut up,” he pushed on the back of your knees with his, “on your stomach.”

You got down, barely able to see and unwilling to resist with a bullet waiting behind you. He pushed you into the mattress until you were still. He pulled back the gun and planted his knee on your back as he held you down. He holstered his firearm then pulled your arm back behind you and then the other. He used a zip tie to secure your hands there before he did the same to your ankles.

He carefully stepped back and you turned your head to watch his shadow. He didn’t bother with the flashlight as he closed the door. Then he turned and kicked the light so it cracked and the bulb died. He sat in the chair, it groaned dangerously under him.

You could see little of him as all light was gone but for the sudden glow of a screen before him. You only saw the glint of his blue eyes before he put it against his cheek. You turned onto your side and he growled.

“Don’t even think of moving,” he warned. “Hey,” he spoke into the speaker. “I just sent the coordinates. Target secured.” He listened, “by morning?”

He pulled the phone away and dimmed the screen. You could only hear the wind as he sat there and you sensed his unwavering gaze in the dark. With your jacket undone and your boots untied, you felt the draft that blew through the cabin walls. You shivered and he let out a thick breath. A snarl almost.

“I really don’t know what’s going on,” you said.

“Shut up,” he snapped.

“I mean it. You have to look. Look around, you’ll see,” you pleaded.

He snorted and didn’t move. You rolled your eyes helplessly and another chill ran through you.

“Please--”

“I already looked. When you were out climbing trees,” he intoned. “I saw the photos. Very thorough reconnaissance.”

“What? Pictures of birds and snowflakes?” You uttered.

“You’re good. That whole innocent ploy is convincing,” you heard his boot drag over the wooden floor, “almost.”

You deflated, your wrists chafed and your teeth chattered.

“You gonna wait all night… for whoever that was?”

“I’m tired of telling you to shut up.”

“You leave me like this, I’ll freeze to death. You too.”

“I won’t,” he said, “you might.”

“You said you had orders.”

“Circumstantial,” he countered.

You exhaled deeply and bent your legs as you tried to curl into yourself. He tutted and stood, the floor creaked. The stove door whined and you heard the iron poker against the kindling. He mumbled as he relit the fire and stirred it until the biggest log caught. He rose and set aside the poker and resumed his seat.

The fire’s amber haze limned his figure in the dark. His broad shoulders were wider than the back of the chair, his long hair poked out from beneath a wool cap, and his hand formed a tight fist on the arm. He leaned his head back and sniffed.

“There,” he said sharply, “nice and cozy.”

You wiggled on the bed, trying to get comfortable. You pulled on your wrists and ankles and only caused your hands and feet to throb. You grunted and relented, resigning yourself to lay listless atop the thin mattress.

“You’re wasting your time--”

“I’m about to shove your sock in your mouth so I suggest you shut the fuck up,” he barked.

You gulped and closed your eyes in surrender. Well, maybe his friends would realise his mistake. Or maybe they’d just add to your predicament.

❄

You didn’t really sleep, you languished. The man didn’t either. You could tell. He just watched. Frighteningly patient as the night critters made a ruckus outside. He barely even moved as you fidgeted, your shoulders sore and your legs cramping.

Then there was a sudden change that even you felt. A heavy pair of boots climbed up onto the porch and the handle jiggled, the door stopped by the wooden latch. The man rose and crossed to the door. You heard the subtle brush of fabric and metal as he pulled out his gun. He pulled open the door slowly, at the ready, the slightly lesser dark seeping in.

“Sooner than I thought,” the man greeted his comrade. Your heart froze as another set of footfalls followed. A third man entered behind the second.

“Jesus, why are you sitting here in the dark?” The third man asked, “there a light or something?”

“She’s on the bed.” The first man grumbled. “Only a rifle hidden under there. I already disarmed it.”

The sudden electric glow of the lantern bloomed to life. Your eyes slowly adjusted as you stared at the three men. There were all big, all broad-shouldered, all stood like soldiers as they communed around the only chair. The third, the one who’d clicked the lantern on, neared you.

“She’s putting on a front, but--” the first man began and the third one raised his hand to silence him as he knelt by the bed.

He had a kind face, his brown eyes were warm, and the finely trimmed goatee lent him a sense of lightheartedness. His expression however was hard and turned to confusion then disappointment as he held the lantern close and grabbed your chin, turning your head back and forth.

“Not her,” he released you and stood, “fucking Christ, Bucky. It’s not fucking her.”

The second man snorted, “really?”

“It’s gotta be--” the first insisted, “the gun--”

“For hunting,” you said dully, “not that I do much of that. I use it to scare away the wolves.”

“Shut up.” He snarled and crossed his arms as he turned his back to you, “you’re sure?”

“I wouldn’t forget the woman who nearly slit my throat. Twice.” The other said, “and really? A single rifle? You think that’s all she’d have?”

“She has photos too. The bunker, due north. She’s got dozens.” The first insisted.

“Bunker?” You whispered.

“I’m not going to tell you to shut it again,” the man turned as he raised a hand and the blond, the one who hadn’t said much at all, caught his wrist.

“Hey,” the other man warned, “she’s innocent. She probably has no idea what she was taking pictures of.”

“Yeah, but now she knows our faces. No doubt recognizes you, pretty boy,”tThe third offered, “and idiot here assaulted her and tied her up.”

“All the way up here? Who’s she gonna tell?” The blonde returned.

“She has a radio,” The first, Bucky offered. “It’d be enough to give us away.”

“They’d believe her? If she’s been up here long, they might not.” The blonde glanced over the others shoulder, “you apologize and we can--”

“You really wanna leave another loose end?” Bucky challenged as he blocked his gaze.

“You should’ve confirmed before you jumped,” the third huffed.

“If we’re not gonna leave her, what do we do?” The blonde asked.

They all went silent. They looked at each other and then you. Bucky raised his gun, still in hand, and the blond caught him again. He shook his head and tisked.

“Are you crazy?” He pushed his hand down, “We’re not killing her. She didn’t do anything.”

“I agree, she shouldn't die because you’re stupid,” the other chuckled.

“Well, Einstein,” Bucky snipped, “what do you suggest?”

The third man’s brows raised slowly and he tilted his head. He glanced at you again then back to his comrades. He shrugged and a grin spread across his face.

“The bunker. It’s empty. Safe.” He said quietly, “How much of a fight did she put up?”

“Enough of one,” Bucky muttered.

“She’s… not bad. She’s all alone up here. Even if someone noticed she went radio silent, it’d have to take a while,” he explained.

“What are you saying?” The blonde frowned.

“If she has the photos, if she knows where the bunker is and this moron’s blurted out some intel, I just know it,” he continued, “we can’t let her go. He’s at least right about that. So… we don’t wanna kill her, we keep her.”

“Keep her? For what?” Bucky scoffed.

The man was silent and winked at them. The blonde peeked over at you and Bucky dropped his head as he gripped his hip.

“Come on, you guys,” he threw up his hand as the blonde shifted on his feet. “It’s fucking cold up here and it’s been awful lonely everywhere else. We’re running around with no finish line in sight and… well, I’m about to stab one of you and I’ve seen the way you,” he pointed at Bucky, “look at me. I don’t trust that.”

“You can’t mean--” the blonde muttered.

“She’s better off dead,” Bucky insisted.

“Just because you’re a monk, doesn’t mean the rest of us need to be.”

“Hmm,” the blonde tapped his toe.

“You’re not really considering this?” Bucky sneered.

“Well… why not?” He rasped, “She’s… alone and… not too bad on the eyes.”

“And I have ears!” You sat up awkwardly, “You want me to keep my mouth shut. Done. I’m up here trying to catch a few birds on a roll. I’m not here to get mixed up in whatever it is you three--” You blinked as the lantern shone in the blond’s face as the three men turned to you, “shit.”

Captain America’s eyes sparked with recognition as your head did the same. He knew you knew who he was; likely he saw that look every other day. There was no hiding it.

“I told you,” the third man chided, “that mug is hard to forget.”

“No, no, I don’t-- I won’t tell a soul. I swear. Please just whatever you’re thinking, don’t. I’m some dumb photographer they sent up here to document the snow. You really think anyone cares that much--”

“Not so much about you but those photos are pretty interesting,” Bucky neared and shoved you down and you barely kept from hitting your head on the wall, “don’t tell me you didn’t know what you were doing.”

“People go missing up here all the time. That’s why no one’s here,” the brown-eyed man said, “she’ll just be another and we’ll have a nice companion to keep us from killing each other.”

“No,” Bucky turned, “it’s my mistake. I’ll take care of it.”

“Put the gun away, Buck,” Steve Rogers ordered, “it’s not right. We can’t kill her. Even if she isn’t entirely innocent, even if you’re right about those photos. She’s better to us alive.”

“Don’t tell me you’re going along with this--”

“I’m the captain,” Steve insisted. “I’ve made up my mind and I’m giving you an order. Sam’s right. She’s more use alive. If she has information, we’ll get it out of her. And if she doesn’t well, we can find something else to do with her.”

Bucky swore and pushed his gun into his holster. He stepped away from you and shouldered past the one called Sam.

“Yes, captain,” he said dryly.

“Sergeant,” Steve retorted and nodded to Sam, “get her up. We should leave before the sun rises.”

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cupidsintern · 3 years

Text

the death of hyacinthus - pt. i

this is my old renaissance au with artist!billy and model!steve so enjoy lol

The light spills out onto the floor before the window, making the worn wood of the floor look bright again, like new. The light doesn't reach Steve though. Billy set up the scene like that on purpose, closer to the center of his studio. No direct light. He wants this to be lit like it's the beginning of twilight. In his head, Hyacinth dies at sunset.

The room is silent, has been for a while, other than birds outside the window, a breeze that made the window tap against itself lightly, and fabric shifting if Steve stirs from where he is at all, draped across this haphazard construction of pillows, blankets, and a bench.

That's the word Billy used; “drape”. When Steve got to the studio Billy was kicking pillows around on his little model platform, trying to get everything set up right, hardly even greeting Steve at all before launching into his explanation of how he wanted Steve to look.

“-and he’s dying, but he’s not dead yet,” Billy walked half a circle around the platform, hands out. “So Apollo would- damn-” A pillow fell over, he pushed it back up. “Would be here. So if you can just sort of drape yourself across right here-”

Steve was stripping off the last of his garments when Billy turned back around.

“Here?” Steve finished kicking his stockings off, crossed to step up onto the platform.

Billy swallowed, looking Steve in the eyes because at least it meant he wouldn't look down, slack jawed. “Yeah, that's- that’s perfect.” Steve was already settling in to sitting down, letting his head fall back against the seat of the bench, throat exposed.

The way he was sitting shifted his weight in his hips more; Billy tried to look critically. Not appreciatively. He shouldn’t be appreciating the son of the nobleman that had decided to be his patron. Not that Steve was even supposed to be modeling for him beyond the two portraits he’d already had done.

“Tip your knee down more,” Billy stepps back, takes in the composition.

Steve drops his knee.

“Turn your head towards me.”

Steve obliges. The line of his nose looks perfect at three quarters.

Billy stepps up to the platform again, pulls some of the fabric forward, lets it fall over Steve's legs more, over his groin- good. Less distracting. More poetic or something- and the line of his thighs beneath the fabric has just the heaviness Billy is looking for. He steps back again.

“What’s the myth again?” Steve’s jaw gains definition when he speaks with his head at this angle.

“The Death of Hyacinthus.”

“I know that part.” Steve rolls his hand a little. “The part before that. How does he die?”

“He- hang on.” Billy steps close again to push things around, make the lines right. “The wind- Zephyr- gets jealous of his beauty. Apollo throws a discus, and Zephyr pushes it off course, so it knocks Hyacinth in the head. Apollo holds him while he dies.” Billy says it all matter-of-factly. He's trying not to get distracted. He picks up Steve's arm to tilt back towards him a little. His skin is warm like the sunlight staining the floor.

“That's sad.” Steve says. His arm feels relaxed in Billy’s grip. “Weren't they close? Apollo and Hyacinth.”

Billy feels a familiar warmth at his neck of this topic. This thing that always comes up when he and Steve are alone. “They were lovers.”

Steve doesn't say anything back to that.

Billy gets the composition mostly how he wants it- and he’ll probably try Steve in a couple different poses, this is only for sketching. He takes ages deciding where to set up to actually draw it- Steve makes fun of him. Billy says he’s not the one naked on a pile of old curtains. That makes Steve laugh. His stomach flexes a little when he laughs.

Billy's glad Steve can be part of his process now.

He gets some general gestures down on paper. He really nails the angle of Steve’s throat- which he's proud of. He needs the arch of the thing to be perfect. And he gets the general idea of Steve's features down quick- he’s drawn Steve's face maybe a thousand times by now. The way his arm falls is tricky- he’ll come back to that in a bit.

“Billy.”

Billy looks up at Steve’s voice. He’s sat up a little, something short of coy in his eyes. “I’m cold.” “You’re cold.” Billy says back to him. Because he never does what Steve implies. Only what Steve says.

“Yeah, like you said- I’m bare ass naked on a pile of curtains.”

“Your calling.”

Steve laughs again. “Do you think we could close the door?”

“We?”

“You. Can you close the door.”

“Who’s the revered artist here?”

“Who’s the patron?”

Billy rolls his eyes, but he drops his chalk into the lip of his easel anyway, walks to pull the door to his studio shut, separating them from the rest of the house. Steve left it open in the first place.

“You’re not my patron.” Billy says when he gets back, picks up to start drawing again.

“I’m close.” Steve only sounds a little superior.

He’s right. He is close to being Billy's patron. He recommended Billy to his family, he talked up Billy’s version of the pieta, he introduced Billy to the Influentials of Florence, got him this nice new studio, set up in one of the family houses. He was only a little superior about it.

Mostly he was nice.

Nice to Billy. Excited about the things he drew, always asking him what he was working on.

Asked to sit for him once, twice, how many more times, he was part of the process now.

This might be what having a muse was, if Billy believed in things like having muses.

Steve scratches the back of his calf with a foot, then sets his legs back down.

“I’m surprised you don’t get bored doing this.” Billy cracks two of the knuckles on his drawing hand, shakes out his wrist. He’s only prying a little.

“I like watching you work,” comes Steve's easy reply.

“Still.” Billy smudges at a stray line with his thumb. “You’re always fidgety at dinners and shit. Not here.”

“Dinners are boring.” Steve sighs.

He had expressed that sentiment before. That he found Billy much more interesting than anything his family ever did. That he’d trade his infinite wealth for the virve Billy so possessed. Only he didn't say it like that. He said “I’d trade all of this shit for whatever makes your art so beautiful.”

And Billy said “You wouldn't want to. Trust me.”

Billy, having seared the image of Steve into his brain by now, was adding more definition in places, really letting his focus slide out of his head.

And it’s quiet for a bit. Billy doesn't notice when the silence breaks- the sound of shifting fabric, bare feet on wood floor-

“Shit, that’s really good.” Steve's voice startles Billy a little, but he doesn’t let it show. Just turns a little abruptly to find Steve leaning over his shoulder.

“Looks just like me.” Steve continued, hovering his fingertips over Billy's rendition of his nose.

“You don’t have to sound so impressed every time.” Billy rolled his eyes, pushing Steve’s hand away.

“Oh, excuse me for showing some enthusiasm.” Steve hummed another laugh, still looking at the paper. He traced a finger absentmindedly down his own flesh-and-blood nose, marveling at the likeness.

Billy couldn't focus enough to continue with Steve so close. Not like he’d never seen Steve in next to nothing before. But this was really and truly nothing. And even naked as the day he was born Steve exuded wealth in just the way he stood. Like clothes were nothing but decoration on something already… beautiful.

“Can you go back to your spot, please?” Billy got out, looking away like he was annoyed.

Steve just smiled at him before padding back to his platform, throwing the fabric back over his legs.

But now the composition was wrong-

“So,” Steve’s voice carried across the sun-soaked chambers. “Why Hyacinth?”

“What do you mean.” Billy was trying desperately to collect his thoughts.

“I mean, he’s dating a god, right? Why him? What's so special about him.”

“He’s beautiful.”

“And?”

“Well, I mean, he’s a Spartan prince, he’s legendary. Apollo doesn't even really pick him. Hyacinth has, like, a bunch of people to choose from. He picks Apollo.”

Billy can’t draw like this, especially since Steve fucked up the composition- probably on purpose.

Billy gets up with an unintentional little huff and gets close to Steve again, has to adjust his legs again, avoid staring at the pinks that dust Steve’s everywhere-

“You draw me a lot.” Steve interrupts Billy’s train of thought.

Billy looks up, holding Steve’s wrist like it was his own. “You sit for me a lot-”

“What's your favorite part to draw?”

Billy’s breathing feels thicker, like his throat is coated in honey, sweet but hard to breathe. “Of you?” “Yeah.”

“Your nose.” Billy says easily, because it's safe to say.

Steve smiles. “You've said that before.”

“It's true.” Billy prepares to turn away again, to tell Steve they should get more done while there's still daylight.

Steve’s fingers hook against the palm of Billy's hand. This is playing with fire.

Steve lifts Billy's hand up, touches it to the bridge of his nose.

He can feel the sharp bone under his forefinger.

“Where else?”

Billy inhales. It's a feat. “Your jaw.”

Steve pulls Billy's hand down his cheek to touch his jawline. They’ve been avoiding this forever,

“And?” Cliche game of cat and mouse. Right now, Billy’s the mouse.

“Your shoulders.” Billy watches Steve drag his hand down his perfect neck to the slope of his perfect shoulders. “Steve.”

“Billy.” Steve mocks Billy’s warning tone just a little. “Come on, what else?”

Billy swallows again. He doesn't respond he just lets his hand wander lower, lower, down his chest, to his stomach-

Billy stops his hand, pushes back against Steve’s. “I’ve never drawn you nude, if that's what you’re implying.”

“Maybe you should.” Steve’s finger’s slide up Billy's forearm to hook under the edge of his rolled up sleeve.

“I’d need a couple different references...” Billy trails off. He knows Steve is about to kiss him.

It’s still delicious when he does. No number of days, weeks, waiting for one of them to make a move, of thinking what that move would be, what it would feel like, would have prepared Billy for the spit-sweet taste of a first kiss in the late afternoon.

i might do a part ii or just leave it like this lol

#harringrove #steve harrington #billy hargrove #steve x billy #billy x steve #harringrove fanfic #harringrove fic #my fic #my writing #its the renaissance au

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theunderwoodtypist · 3 years

Text

The Huntress, Chapter 1

Eyes watched her as she walked through the crowded promenade. Nervous gazes flitted her direction, quickly redirecting away from her when she glanced back. Her ears perked at any and all whispered, hushed tones. Station denizens stepped out of her path, staring with wide eyes as she passed. Station security chose to look the other way. As they had learned from past run ins with her kind. She found the club she had been searching for, the one with a curtain of beads partitioning it off from the bustling walkway outside, the large tinted windows offered very little view of the inside except some shadowy movement. She stood just outside the club, eyes flicking back and forth, studying the crowd inside through the multicolored beads. The scent of tobacco, marijuana, and other herbal inhalants burned her nostrils. She brushed the strands of beads aside and pulled the cloth covering her face down with one hand, and pulling her goggles up, resting them on her forehead, just shy of her pointed ears, with the other. The blue and violet lights pulsed along with the thumping of the music. Dancers wearing translucent garments of various colors danced on pedestals in a ring around the circular bar that took up the center of the establishment. Her whiskers could feel the faint static charge of the invisible forcefields around the pedestals, in place either to keep the patrons from getting handsy with the dancers, or to keep the dancers from escaping, she wasn’t sure which. In the back by the bar twin stair cases curved upward to a small balcony. A single doorway, also curtained by beads, lead to the back rooms. She surveyed the crowd carefully, sizing each patron up. They were a rough crowd, civilian cargo runners mostly, stopping at the station to unload and get some much needed relaxation. She recognized a few smugglers she had picked up before. Most of the patrons were honest and hard working, others simple men and women trying to make their way in the galaxy, though through illegal means. Which suited her just fine. A hunter was nothing if she didn’t have prey to pursue. The one she was after was a goblin. Nasty little things. Orange skin, pointed teeth, large ears. They were disgusting little ghouls, slimy and they smelled of bile. He was worth quite a bit, and her sources told her he knew things. Things she needed to know. His twin ran the bar here. The owner was some unknown individual, some benefactor that hid in the shadows. They probably kept the bar going to traffic weapons or drugs. Why else would someone not want their name on the documents? She approached the bar after she was satisfied with her initial survey of the crowd. The squat orange goblin looked her up and down for a moment.

“well…” he said in a slimy, rasping voice, showing her his yellowed pointed fangs. “Not too often we get mau in here… What can I get for you little kitty?” She ignored the derogatory remark and pointed at a bottle of blue liquid in the glass case behind the bar. The goblin turned and pulled the bottle out and poured a small splash of it in a glass and slid it across the bar to her. She set a rounded flat disk on the bar and tapped the surface of it. Sand-like particles orientated themselves into the three dimensional image of another goblin.

“Do you know where he is?” she asked coldly. The goblin scowled at the image.

“What’s he done this time?” He hissed.

“He owes my employer enough credits to buy a small star cruiser.” She hissed back, showing her own sharp teeth.

“Listen little kitty, why don’t you run on back to your employer, before you get your pretty little self hurt.” he growled. She smirked. She loved when they played hard to get.

“Just tell me where he is, and I won’t bring you in as well, for the two and a half thousand credit bounty you have on you.” she downed her drink in one gulp and glanced over her shoulder across the club, just to check on her surroundings. Her eyes locked onto an eros boy. He was young, not much into adulthood. His black hair was unruly, and his grey skin made him look almost like a shadow in the pulsing lights around him. He studied her with his mismatched blue and green eyes. He was armed. A handgun of some sort, holstered on his thigh, as well as a few knives. He wasn’t wearing the security band around his upper arm that meant he was permitted to carry a weapon. He had probably snuck around the security check points. He had an air of nobility, but the posture of a man who was unfazed by violence and death. He offered her a soft, gentle smile. If things went wrong… She would have to drop him quickly. She turned back to the goblin.

“Have you decided?” She asked, gesturing for the goblin to refill her glass. He obliged and she downed the drink.

“My brother is in the back rooms. I’ll go get him for you…” He said with an unsettling fanged grin.

“Good boy…” She smirked, watching him closely as he went up the stairs and into the back. She unbuckled the strap holding her side arm in place on her thigh and glanced around, looking for the eros again, but he had vanished. Good… eros tended to be excellent marksman, and small targets to hit. She didn’t want to have to deal with more bloodshed then necessary. The goblin bartender rushed out of the back rooms with a disrupter rifle in hand. She swore loudly and pulled her handgun before dropping to the floor as red hot bursts of plasmic energy streaked through the air. The cub erupted in screams and panic as patrons scrambled to get away from the weapon fire. She peaked over the bar and fired twice toward the goblin. Both shots missed, but she didn’t have a good shot. She figured he would want to take cover if he was being shot at. She had been right, the goblin ducked back into the back room, giving her enough time to scramble to her feet and find a better vantage point. There were nine fairly well covered spots in the club, each, unfortunately, left her back open, and she wasn’t sure how many of the patrons were part of this goblin’s inner circle and armed. She pulled her goggles down again and fired a few more shots as she moved, ducking behind one of the dancer’s pedestals. The boy atop it cowered, unable to get off because of the forcefield, but safe because of it as well. Disrupter blaster scorched the wall behind her and the ceiling. Patrons were still clambering to get out of the club, crawling over each other, shoving each other to the ground. They had effectively blocked the only way in or out. The goblin would be hers. She fired twice and ducked down again as disrupter blasts impacted the forcefield, their energy redistributed and funneled into the power buffers. If enough hit the field, it could overload and cause the emitters to explode. A few more blasted hit the field. She swore under her breath and fired a few more times. This was going no where quickly, and at this rate she would loose the majority of the bounty paying for the damages. She grumbled and pulled a few small disks from a few of the numerous pouches on her belt and on her thigh. She flicked her wrist back, sending them flying toward the goblin. One flashed brightly, the other erupted in a cloud of smoke. She dove out from her cover and fired twice into the cloud of smoke. She stayed still, watching, waiting… She knew she hit one of the goblins, she could see him struggling to get up with her goggle’s infrared scans. She cautiously approached the stairs. She kicked the disrupter rifle over the edge of the platform at the top of the stairs and pulled the goblin to his feet. He laughed and then winced in pain. She had shot him in the shoulder and the calf, no permanent damage.

“Why are you laughing?” She hissed. He looked into the back room. She followed his gaze and froze. There was no other goblin… He had lied… Her eyes locked onto a pulsing red light on the floor. A second disrupter was set in overload on the verge of going critical.

“It will destroy half the station!” He cackled. She swore loudly in her native tongue and dove off the balcony. She grabbed one of the heavy mahogany tables and flipped it over, ducking behind it just as the disrupter went critical. The blast blew out all the heavy tempered glass around the entrance of the club, forcing club goers, tables, bar stools, and other decor and objects through them, including herself. She hit the ground hard, coming to a tumbling halt, shards of glass and bits of the composite bulkheads were strewn around her, like someone had thrown them about like confetti. She pushed herself up and, her head spinning, ears ringing. Clearly the explosion did not destroy half the station… She struggled to her feet, barely keeping her balance, staring at the smoking front of the club. People dragged their friend’s lifeless bodies out from under debris, people wailed and screamed, others lay lifeless, killed by the blast. She looked around for her handgun. It had been knocked from her hands by the blast. The glint of gold caught her attention a few feet away. She pulled the gun from the debris and reloaded it, limping back into the club to confirm the kill. Before she could make it back inside, station security had her surrounded. She swore and jammed her gun back into its holster and pulled her goggles back up as she raised her hands over her head.

“My name is Tivali, I’m with the Hunter’s Guild, I have permission from the station master to use deadly force if necessary here.” she said as the security guards pulled her arms behind her back, fastening restraints to her wrists. She rolled her eyes but complied with every order they gave her, and answered every question. This was merely an inconvenience… A rather annoying, time consuming, headache of an inconvenience that would cost her time, money, and her prey…

#original story #sci fi #original writing #science fantasy #fantasy #bounty hunter #world building

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pasteljeon · 4 years

Text

Shadows (m)

summary | he could love you … if only you’d let him in.

genre | venom au, venom!jk, smut, angst

warnings | tentacle porn, oral (female receiving), edging, guk has a fat cock ana oop, size kink, sexual tension, mating cycles, heat sex (yeah, you read that right)

length | 1.9k

notes | i crawl out of retirement for this one (1) halloween fic that i’ve been dyin to write since forever. and, as some already know, this also just an excuse for tentacle porn. :D happy halloween everyone! wish i could’ve written sth longer, but it’s still midterm season for me & i’m beyond buried in work rn :”( regardless, please enjoy!

“Kook.”

Silence. The mass lying in the middle of the room remained motionless.

You sighed, forehead thumping against the one-way glass. Theoretically, you knew he wouldn’t be able to see you, but he could sense you. Feel your presence.

“Kookie. Please.” Your breath ghosted across the barrier.

The darkness shifted, a tendril reluctantly reaching to seek out your heat, pressed against where your palm was splayed on the other side.

“Miss ___.” You flinched, the monotone voice of your assistant startling you momentarily.

“The next trial begins in ten minutes. Should I bring the volunteer in?”

Her perfectly manicured nails tapped against the sleek black clipboard, sharp eyes unimpressed as they note your affection for the containment within.

Living organisms with compositions so extraordinary they were coveted as a chance to revolutionize humanity. A symbiotic relationship, they relied on molecular bonding with a host to survive. A symbiote. The term alien often whispered with every passing of fluttering white lab boats.

Simply put, they were experiments.

And you headed them all.

You glanced back briefly, only to find he’d already retreated, unmoving once more.

The research facility was intimidating, stripped white walls bare and plain, the building expansive and equipped with the latest technology. Endless floors filled with glass walls lining different divisions.

Within these walls, there was transparency. Outside of it, no one knew much at all.

The guilt chipped away at you slowly.

They were real. They felt. They were very much capable of the same human emotions your species processed. They hurt. Felt pain. Each compatibility failure was destroying them.

There were many that did not survive the crash. All that was left, scavenged from the space outreach initiative, were seven uniquely distinct specimens. All the equivalent of a male.

They all had binary identifications, but you gave them something else. A name.

Namjoon. He was exceedingly intelligent. The first few months had been spent attempting to establish ground communications with them. Namjoon had picked up your language easily, and it no longer shocked you to see a massive dark blob flipping through encyclopedias. He liked to read, consuming pages like oxygen. With every routine checkup, you’d deliver a few novels you’d enjoyed in the past. His upper section of his blobbed body would incline, and you’d imagine he was thanking you.

Seokjin was the eldest of the bunch, as concluded by your preliminary findings of their biological structure. Oddly enough, though it had been discovered early on that their kind could sustain themselves on anything, they still preferred human flesh. It didn’t make them dangerous, necessarily—you could teach them human ethics. For the most part, Seokjin tried not to nip at your ankles when you visited. As a substitute, you taught him how to cook. There was a mini kitchen set up in his quarantine, and some nights were spent with him stretching his mass over your shoulder and watching you work.

Yoongi was, kindly put, lazy. He slept most of the day, scarcely reacted when you tried to interact with him. You did, however, discover he liked music. He got speakers. Headphones made his head hurt, he once signed to you. Noise sensitivity.

Hoseok was so human it hurt. He was energetic, restless. He bounced around his containment. His own version of dancing, almost.

Taehyung and Jimin refused to separate. When you first examined them, you’d nearly mistaken them for one entity. Soulmates, if the concept existed in their world. They shared one cell, liked to tussle and fight one another.

Then there was Jungkook. He was shy, barely moved when you first met. If not for the pulse beneath his silk, there was no sign of life at all. You were endeared as he slowly broke from his shell. He liked you. You knew because you were the only one that could get close, that could touch him without repercussions. He’d killed his hosts, regardless of compatibility, thrice before they paused trials. He hated it more than any of them.

But here, they were safe.

And yet here, they were also being harvested. Used. To become the steppingstone in humanity’s evolution. Time was running out, and the private company that spearheaded the research was demanding results.

Here, they are to become weapons.

And you were going to break them out.

“Kook. Jungkook.”

Your voice was urgent, though steady.

Panic setting in heavy in your stomach when you saw him press himself closer to the wall.

“Hey, hey. It’s okay. I won’t let it touch you. But we need to get out of here, and fast. The building’s going to collapse,” you coaxed. The flames licked your back, warning you of the fire that blazed across the hall.

He quivered, drawing away from your extended hand.

Fire. Bad. Hurts.

You bit back your gasp. His voice was low, a quiet rumble in your head.

You steeled your nerve. “I know. Bond with me.”

He stilled.

And then—mine. You belong to me. We are one.

And you said, “always.”

He shot to you, sinking beneath your flesh and making a home in the beating of your heart.

You disappeared.

As the building burned, so did all the data and files you’d accumulated over the years. The symbiote all dispersed, you having found a suitable host months prior. Some were friends, some were not. But they all cared, and you knew they would find sanctuary in a peaceful life with them.

So you let them go, and turned over a new page.

You monitored your vitals for the first few hours, fearing the compatibility would elude you.

Will not. Belong together. Us.

His thoughts echoed, though always soft.

“Where do you want to go?” You wondered aloud as you fingered the plane ticket in your hands.

Hungry, he said instead. You could feel him gnawing at your liver. “Don’t do that. You might accidentally split it.”

If he had lips, you imagined he’d be pouting.

Where we going? You had the feeling he was trying to read the slip.

“Somewhere cold.”

You hate cold.

“You hate the heat.” The first calls for boarding had you wheeling your luggage to the gates.

Don’t care. As long as we are together. Can go anywhere.

You smiled down at your passport, cheeks warm. “Yeah.”

It took time to adjust to a completely different lifestyle. Your previous line of work had compensated your risk generously, and you’d had enough foresight to invest and save wisely.

Here, you’d picked up a job as a pharmacist at one of the local drug stores. It was terribly mundane, but you found you liked this kind of routine. It was a welcomed change from the scars you’d collected. A sense of normality.

It was October when everything changed.

Jungkook had been restless lately. Distant. Withdrawn.

It’s like he’d curled up in the corner of your mind. Lethargic.

You knew the symptoms.

“Kook.” He stirred faintly at the sound of your voice.

Lover. He rumbles lowly, rousing slowly.

“Your heat. It’s coming soon.” You rolled over, the sheets pooling at your waist. A tendril wraps itself loosely around your calf.

Yes.

“What will you do?”

Another tendril creeps up your stomach, squeezing your breast firmly.

You.

Their heats were intense. Nothing like you could’ve ever imagined. While they only occurred once a full cycle, the need overwhelmed them, made them ravenous and delirious. And a human host? They served as aphrodisiacs. Enhanced the craving until it all but consumed them.

You woke in a feverish haze, a thin sheen of sweat coating your skin, panties shoved aside and thighs smeared with wetness.

“J-Jungkook!” You gasped, back arching as he fucked you harder.

“Love. My love,” he rasped, fingers curling, watching you come undone with dark eyes.

It was also the only time they could fully materialize.

He was ethereal, pupils blown out, a thin ring of gold visible in the ebony that threatened to swallow it all. Completely naked, tanned complexion stretching over corded muscles, he hovered over you, arms braced next to your head. His hair was soft, luscious and long, falling in waves over his forehead. Darkness mirrored his every movement, his true form rippling beneath the surface.

“Want you. Need you,” Jungkook groaned, gaze smoldering as he fisted your sleep tee. “Please.”

“Since you asked so politely,” you managed breathlessly. You took his hand and slipped it underneath, guiding it until he traced the underside of your breast.

He ripped the fabric apart, buttons flying as he shoved the offending material off your shoulders. “Need. Can’t control. Please.”

In spite of the inferno brewing within, he remained your ever sweet Jungkook. The shadows drew closer, the touch soft though frantic, mapping your body in long strokes. He buried his face in your cunt, abnormally long tongue driving you crazy with every lick.

“K-Kook, I c-can’t,” you sobbed, fingers gripping his locks as he coaxed another orgasm from you easily.

His palms, warm and large, spread your legs apart. His cock was intimidating, tip angry and throbbing, a tantalising vein running along the side. He was dripping with something akin to precum, the substance slightly lighter and thicker than the human equivalent.

The dark tendrils snaked around you just as he slammed into you.

Your moan was lost to his lips, kiss messy and wild, your mind blanking with every thrust and the stroke of his tongue. His tentacles tweaked and pulled at your nipples, twisting and teasing, others suckling at your clit while some were wrapped around his length, providing ridges that edged your sensitive core.

“Mine. Mine. Ours. Breed,” Jungkook chanted, the grip of his shadows tightening as if to brand their shape to your skin. It was too much.

“Y-yes, Koo, need you, need you just like this,” you cried out, walls spasming around him as you reached your high once more.

The bedframe rattled loudly, Jungkook’s pace increasing inhumanly as he pounded into you. “N-ngh—ah! L-love, so perfect, made for me. Thank you, thank you,” he moaned, hips stuttering as he came, filling you up hotly. So much it spilled from where he remained inside of you, dripping down your thighs.

His forehead rested against yours as he fought to quell his hunger for just a moment longer. Though his release brought brief clarity, the lust was already beginning to trickle back in. His cock twitched, the ache so profound his shadows latched onto you harder.

Your legs wrapped around his back, eyes soft as you said, “I’m all yours. Don’t hold back.”

Jungkook exhaled shakily. “Make me crazy.”

He nuzzled your neck, even as his dick pulsed, he pushed his nose into your jawline and whispered, “Lover. You and me. Until the end.”

#ksmutclub #ggukienet #networkbangtan #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #bts smut #smutcentralnet

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kpopisthereasonihavenolife · 4 years

Text

genre: college au, teacher/student, dance instructor!hoseok, dance student! y/n, fluff

warning(s)!!!: college stress (duh), y/n waited a couple years after high school before college for fiances, it’s not a college au unless someone works at a coffee shop lol, flirty hoseok, y/n might be a bit ditzy but in a cute way, y/n is also scared of storms

w.count: 5.4k

summary: moving to Seoul, South Korea had been a dream of yours and when you found out that you got accept at one of the best universities, you couldn’t have been happier! That is until you met your dance teacher. He was handsome, but strict and he made you fall for him hard. You never thought he would feel the same until you got locked up one rainy night.

Series | One-shot | Two-shot | Drabble | [Rated: PG-13]

a/n: this is my contribution to BangtanIDX Prompt Twist! I got @pjmsgalaxy prompt, so I hope she (and everyone else) enjoys it! Gotta be honest, I’m not sure if I’ve ever written a teacher/student fic and i don’t read much of them dafdlskf, there’s a first time for everything LMAO I hope I did alright asdlfjakj (I also very very sloppily proof read this, or i proofread half of it then got lazy uhoh)

“Where did I-” you muttered to yourself as you dug through the fourth box in your newly moved into studio apartment. You were a reigning champ of procrastination and now you were looking for your gym duffel to place all your dance equipment in.

Not finding it in lucky box number four, you sighed and continued your quest to find the hideously amazing holographic duffel your mother had bought for you just before your move to Seoul. “There you are!” You exclaimed as you saw a small patch of shining, colorful silver before you grabbed it and yanked it out. Small trinkets and pens flew from the box in its rupture out of the cardboard prison.

It had been just two days since you had signed a lease for this single, tiny, cramped apartment in Seoul. But, it was your best choice of living because who would’ve thought that Seoul’s living expenses were through the roof. It would do, however; since you were finally getting ready to enroll in Hanyang University in their department of dance. Part of your subconscious wasn’t able to comprehend the fact that you managed to get into a private university in Seoul, but nonetheless there you were.

You sat on your floor, boxes all around you with your holographic duffel with rainbow striped straps on your lap. You sighed as you felt a small flutter of nerves in your chest.

This was what you have wanted since you realized how much you loved dancing. Graduating, majoring in dance, going to a prestigious school. It was all so much more dazzling than you thought it’d be. Of course, you had to take a couple years off of high school to save up enough money to even begin thinking about college tuition, but now here you were. Two years of hard work finally paid off as you were enrolling into education once more.

“Oh shoot,” you hissed as you placed the duffel aside and made for other boxes. “I need to find my alarm clock. I know I just saw it,” you muttered more as you began to once again dig around. Unpacking fully would need to wait- it was already 7 in the evening. Unpacking your new home would be a tomorrow job and future you’s problem.

It was bright and early the next day as you dragged yourself out of your messy, box filled apartment with a bag of books and folders and your duffel packed full with a water bottle, proper shoes and a change of clothes. Along with your typical dance classes of ballet and choreography (or also called composition) courses, you would be taking your standard classes as well. Dance history and theory for example. Those were more sit down and take notes classes, so your standard textbook and spiral notebook were absolutely a must.

Dressed with your jeans rolled to your calf and your shirt untucked, you walked to sit patiently at the public bus stop just in time to catch the 8 o’clock morning rounds. Getting off with a handful of other college students, you almost halted at the university gates. Those nerves thumping in your chest again before you pulled yourself together and finally took those first steps as a twenty-year-old college student.

You entered the spacious dance studio your choreography class was held in as you gulped. You had just changed into your leggings and sweater with your less than brilliant shoes with just enough grip left on the soles not to slide around.

You ducked your head instinctively as you trotted to the back of the room. The mirrors across the studio tracked your every tiptoed step as some students were stretching. Some were doing warm ups, some doing small numbers of footwork, others just standing talking or keeping to themselves until the instructor came. You were of the latter group. Taking refuge up in a corner as you sat your duffel (that happened to stand out way too much among the others) behind you and took a seat.

As you sat, you opened your legs in front of you and did small stretches just to occupy yourself until the class began. The lump in your throat made it damn near impossible to even try and talk to someone else even though you knew you’d be working and dancing with these people through your major years.

As you were stretching forward to grab around your foot and feel the comfortable pull in your legs, you silently hoped that the instructor you ended up with wouldn’t be a complete nightmare. You’ve seen and read one too many dramatic stories that involve over the top teachers who have the ‘perfect or failing’ mentality. Of course, you knew that it was all for show and production in your books or on your television screen- but nonetheless, it was stressful to think about.

You yelped when someone tapped your shoulder, getting your attention as you were previously too lost in thought about an over dramatic, middle-age crone with a permanent frown as your teacher- may as well imagine Lady Tremaine as the instructor of your nightmares.

When you turned, ready to apologize you nervously chuckled as you saw the handsome red haired man sat beside you with a Puma bag beside him. Wearing gym shorts and a jacket matching his duffel with worn out shoes, he pushed his hair out of the way of his sweat band around his head. He smiled, waving at you.

“First year, huh?” He asked gleefully as you just nodded before clearing your throat.

“Oh, yeah. I just enrolled. I feel a bit awkward since I’m older than the other freshman by a couple years. Guess that's what I get for taking a couple years after highschool though, huh?” You joked back to the stranger as he sat and crossed his legs beside you. He nodded, closing his eyes in a face of understanding.

“Makes since though. This school isn’t cheap, for sure.” With another nod, he opened eyes when he grinned widely again at you. “Don’t worry about it,” he told you with a shoulder pat. “You look young anyways. You’ll fit right in. We twenty-somethings’ need to stick together, huh?” He asked as you looked at him with a small sparkle in your eyes.

“You’re in your twenties?” You gasped lightly. “Oh, jeez that was rude. Sorry,” you awkwardly brush off as you mentally screech into the void. Thankfully, he just laughed at you- but seemed blissfully unoffended.

“I’m definitely in my twenties,” he confirmed. He looked at the watch on his wrist as he silently opened his mouth into an ‘o’ as he started to uncross his legs to stand. He patted your back again. “Thanks for the chat, I’m a lot less anxious now,” he told you as he started moving away. You looked back to your lap and let out a breath. You smiled. If anything- he was the one who worked your anxiety away.

Your attention was grabbed when the studio door was shut and someone clapped from the front of the studio by the wall full of mirrors. Repeated students from previous years were soon sitting down and the freshmen were all sitting rigid- just as you were in your corner.

At the front of the class was the same guy who was just talking to you. Setting his duffel from his shoulder to his feet by the mirror wall on the floor. He turned and placed his hands on his hips as he looked around the room of 20 something students. Some familiar, some not. He just smiled at them all as a group.

“I sure hope this is everyone,” he started speaking when the small murmuring of others died down to focus on him. “I don’t take well to students being late, so make sure to remember that. If you’re not here on time, I’m locking that door and you’re not getting in.” He addressed, pointing to the studio door that was firmly shut. “On with formalities then,” he clapped again as he moved to start pacing back and forth along the mirrors. “As of today, some of you had never seen me before. Why? Well, because you're new of course.” He stopped in his paces before he turned to face the class sitting on the wooden floor. “I’m Jung Hoseok, and I’m this studio’s choreography instructor. Feel free to address me casually if you’d like.”

You nearly threw your head against the wall you leaned back against. You were just chatting it up and talking about age with your teacher?! He was one of very few people who really didn’t need to know your age. Not to mention, the passing thought of thinking he was an attractive man suddenly felt taboo. You’ve heard of teachers and student’s hooking up, but only in stories!

However, by the time the class ended many things were apparent to you. One, this class wasn’t going to have a shortage of difficulty. Hoseok ran through the curriculum and all the points and class topics he wanted to hit and practice through the semesters.

Two, you’d definitely need to start opening up to your classmates for group and duo projects or else you wouldn’t get very far into your college career.

Lastly three, the way Hoseok acted and carried himself like another goofy highschooler who loved dancing more than a fish loves water made him undeniably attractive and maybe- just maybe- your hopeless romantic heart thudded under your hoodie.

It was a week into your college course that you were already feeling tired from all the running back and forth between physical classes and sit down classes. You felt like your legs were screaming, but eventually you knew you’d get used to it.

You were walking as you packed your books into your bag. One thing that Hoseok made clear wasn’t a joke on the first day was his ‘locking the door if you’re late’ rule. He ended up locking 3 students out of the studio on the second day and you made sure that if it was getting close to his classes start time, you were running and weaving past students in the halls and outside in the quad. Rules be damned.

You had just stepped out of the bathroom where you had locked yourself inside a stall to change into your sweats and tee from your jean shorts and sweater when you bumped into your aforementioned handsome dance instructor.

Too busy trying to pry your water bottle out of your duffel mixed with trying to shove your wadded up clothes back into the same duffel and juggling your other class’ bag with books on your shoulder all met in the demise of your shoulder at your rammed into Hoseok’s.

Your metal thermos hit the title in the most unmelodic sound known to man as you jolt and screech in a semi-panic all in an attempt to catch it. Before you could shove your duffel behind you with your sweater hanging half out to reach for your fallen drink in it’s metal prison, Hoseok was already bent at the knees and picking it up instead.

You took the chance to shove your stupid clothes into your duffel completely and zip it when Hoseok was ready to had you your thermos. All while he just stifled a chuckle you could see building in his cheeks.

“In a rush?” He teased, knowing full well his class started in under ten minutes. You bit back the sarcastic reply on your tongue, reminding yourself that this was your teacher- not just another student you could afford to smart off to.

“Well, I don’t want to be locked out, so,” you shrugged, unsure if your tone made you seem snippy. Hopefully not.

“The day I have to lock you out of the studio for being late, maybe if you ask nicely, I’ll let it slide.” He teased as he placed your thermos into your palm. “Let’s go if you’re heading that way.”

“You’re walking with me?”

“I don’t see why not,” he shrugged. “I’m going to the same place and besides, I did say that we twenty-somethings need to stick together,” he joked in a lop-sided smile that pushed up one of his cheeks.

“I wish you’d forget that I ever mentioned my age to you at all,” you groaned as he started walking and you tailed behind him until he slowed his pace to walk beside you. You rushed into the studio in front of him to make sure you made it before him as you rushed to your designated corner before anyone could notice you walked with Hoseok to his class. Properly tying your shoes, you rotated the ball of your worn dance shoes, listening to them squeak as they tried to grip the floors the best they could.

You really needed a new pair soon. Your new job’s first paycheck will be used more for bills then it seemed, a new pair of shoes seemed to be in your future. As Hoseok started class and got everyone to their feet to work through some simple steps to get warmed up for a proper assignment on the horizon, you could help but once again admire his shift from friendly, giggly Hoseok who teased you in the hall to the strict and passionate dance instructor.

“Y/n, could you run the register for just a couple more minutes? Laura is running late, but she said she’s just around the corner stuck in that traffic jam.” Your boss begged as you were about to clock out from your third day on the job. It wasn’t too hard to learn the ropes since you knew how to work registers as well as you could recite the alphabet. You just smiled, trying to wipe the crease out of her brows. She was clearly hoping you wouldn’t say no.

“I don’t mind,” you told her, her shoulder slackening. “I know the traffic sucks today. I can hang around a bit longer. I don’t have anything else to do tonight anyways.” With a promise to pay you for your overtime from your boss, you re-tied the apron around your waist and rushed back to the front where you joined the floundering staff already there. “What can I help with?” You asked them as they rang up someone.

“Just get me away from this thing,” they half whined in a weak laugh as you stepped up and began taking orders like you were programmed to do. Working through customer after customer, you soon saw Laura rushing into the coffee shop when the bell above the door jingled. She ran to you behind the counter. Apologize for being late, you assure her to take her time and not to worry too much about it.

You finally clocked out when you snagged a muffin from the display and made your way out around the counter. Your boss spoke to you for a moment across the display of pastries as Laura was already hard at work until closing hours. You bit into your muffin as you heard someone call you. Thinking it was a co-worker from the familiar ring it had, you turned immediately only to be met with none other than Hoseok.

He came jogging up to you, a coffee in his hand.

“Oh, Instructor Jung,” you greeted in shock. He cringed as you addressed him so formally. Almost everyone in your class had already reverted to calling him by name as he so kindly requested. You were one of the very few stragglers who still addressed him so formally.

“Instructor Jung? Really? That makes me sound like some old man who hates people,” he shivered. “Just call me by name,” he told you. Your boss tapped your shoulder, asking who this stranger with the round cute cheeks and healthy red hair was. He took a sip of his coffee through the straw of his to-go cup. He reached his hand across the counter-top to your boss once he swallowed the caffeine. “Jung Hoseok,” he introduced. “I actually teach Y/n’s dance choreography class in her major.”

“Well, what a lucky girl she is,” your boss teased you with flickering eyebrows that rose and fell in quick motions. Your face bloomed as you wanted to throw the remains of your muffin at her. You were never so thankful you had so much self-restraint. “I’ll see her tapping her feet or shuffling around in the back during her break, it’s pretty adorable.” Okay, maybe less self-restraint if she kept going.

You cleared your throat, face hot as you were determined to escape. “If you’re done teasing me, I’m going home now.”

“But of course,” your boss mused. “I’ll see you back in a couple days sweetheart,” she waved as she went back to her bossly duties of bosshood.

“It was good seeing you-”

“You're heading home, yeah? I’ll drive you,” Hoseok offered before you could properly attempt to depart.

“What?” You asked in shock, nearly dropping the same muffin you wanted to throw just moments ago. “Drive me? Oh, you don’t need to. I’ll just take the bus.”

“Nonsense,” he told you, stepping beside you and nudging you with a friendly smile. “It’s cheaper this way.” That was true. The word ‘cheaper’ was your favorite among the thousands in the words as a struggling college newby. Ultimately, you ended up in the passenger seat of Hoseok’s jeep as he pulled off the curb and into the awful traffic that had previously made Laura so late to her shift. “So, you dance at work huh?” He asked, his eyes set on the road as his fingers tapped at his steering wheel.

“Oh god, please forget you ever heard her say that.”

Hoseok broke into squawks of laughter that pulled at your own lips and the tension you had built up crumbled as you began to just talk. You had even forgotten he was your instructor as you spoke to him like you were talking to a friend. It wasn't until he was pulling up in front of your apartment building when that reality came back.

“Get some rest tonight,” Hoseok told you before you stepped out of the jeep. “I’m gonna assign drills and dance routines tomorrow in class.” You blinked as you looked at him confused.

“Why tell me this? Wouldn’t it have been better to wait to tell me with the rest of the class?” You asked as Hoseok just laughed lightly back to you, nudging your thigh as you started climbing out of the jeep.

“Have a good evening, Y/n,” he told you, totally disregarding your previous questions, leaving you ever more confused. You just nodded at him, now pursuing the topic any longer than you wanted to. He watched to make sure you got up the set of outside stairs and unlocked your door before disappearing inside before he drove off.

Just as he had told you, the next day he was assigning certain groups of students different routines or tasks to practice. Over the course of the next week you’d be free to practice your assignment given to you before delivering it to Hoseok. The concept of him not particularly instructing this project was to gauge the level of self-teaching. He would supervise and give advice and tips if asked, but he would not be out right teaching just yet.

You were among the group of people given a small little number running just shy of two minutes. Focusing more on footwork and precision rather than graceful nimbleness. A faster paced routine was something you felt wasn’t your strongest set of skills, but you enjoyed the feeling of learning nonetheless.

You often spent your afternoons you didn’t have to work in the studio, or inside the practice rooms off the studio practicing. You had opened up to a few other students given the same routine and gotten their advice as you had given yours in return. Hoseok had already told you a few times things you needed to keep in mind while practicing.

This particular night, two weeks into the curriculum you had stayed just a bit too long practicing you had completely lost track of time. In fact, you would've even stopped to notice the empty rooms and the darkening skies outside if it weren’t for the knocking at the practice room’s door.

You had locked yourself inside one of the private, off studio’s to listen to the track assigned with your routine. Getting a feel for the beat and tapping to it for a rhythm balance over and over again made you lose track of time absolutely. When there was a knock you just barely managed to hear over a small dip in the music track, you looked through the room door’s window to see Hoseok waving at you to come out.

Discarding your headphones, you got up and unlocked the door. Opening it to see your instructor dressed not in his sweats and hoodies for practice, but in jeans and a tee- ready to go home for the day. He looked unfairly well dressed in casual wear.

His brow was dipped as he glanced outside just before he looked back to you in your lamp lit small room. He could hear the faint hums of your music from your headphones you left on the floor behind you.

“Why are you still here, Y/n?” He asked. You blinked at him as if he was asking some asinine question. “Classes ended hours ago and that storm in the forecast is about to hit. You should get home,” he told you. You opened your eyes as you looked over his shoulder outside the window of the main studio.

Indeed the skies were dark and sprinkled with raindrops of the future downpour. How long had you been absorbed in your music? You ran back to your headphones and phone along with your bag and duffel as Hoseok moved to the front of the studio to wait at the door, but with a jiggle of the studio’s door, his face drained of color.

A jiggle was worrisome, two was just as worrisome and three was completely worrisome with a tablespoon of panic. The door was jammed, the knob not turning and the door not budging even when Hoseok yanking or shoving on it.

You had shut off the light in the private room, walking out into the lit studio where Hoseok was fiddling with the door. You could hear the metal of the doorknob rattling under his palm echo in the empty dance room as you got to his side. You already feared what he was going to say when he turned to you with a tense expression.

“Don’t tell me,” you spoke with a fallen face as he just let go of the doorknob. All routes of escape leading to utter failure. Hoseok quickly cleared his throat as he looked around the empty room.

“Don’t worry about it,” he spoke, his voice echoing in the large emptiness. “Someone will make their rounds in the morning and get us out. I have some granola bars in my bag we can eat and extra water bottles in my duffel. We just have to tough it out for one night.”

He tried making light of the situation to ease your tense shoulders. He could understand though. You were busy and lost track of time only to be told to leave by your teacher before some nasty weather hits. Only to be now stuck in that same room he told you to leave with him. You probably wanted to go home, take a bath and sleep in your bed. But, now you were forced to stick around in the studio until morning instead. Talk about an impromptu and unwanted sleepover.

However, it wasn’t the fact you had to stay in the studio that night that made you nervous. It shockingly, it wasn’t fact you’d be sharing the space with your more than handsome dance teacher either. It was the small rumbling you heard outside that made you anxious.

The first ten minutes of your small sit down with Hoseok was rigid and uncomfortable for both parties. You were nervous as you picked at your shirt’s loose threads and Hoseok was nervous because he felt like he was making you nervous. The endless cycle of nerves was suffocating.

“Sorry for the door,” Hoseok broke the nearly nauseating silence as he scratched behind his neck. “I didn’t think it’d be busted. Someone must have slammed it shut and jammed it or something.”

“It’s fine,” was your curt answer.

Hoseok looked into the mirrors, watching your reflection- too afraid of freaking you out if he actually looked at you. He cleared his throat. “So, uh- how’s your routine coming?” He tried again. Maybe a different topic will result in different results.

“It’s coming,” you shrugged. “Clearly I’m focusing on it too much,” you told him, motioning to the current situation.

“At least you don’t work today, right?” Hoseok tried lifting the spirits in the room with a smile. You cracked a smile back to him finally.

“That’s-”

The sky shook with thunder, interrupting your voice as Hoseok looked outside the window. The rain had begun as it pelted against the windows. You could hear the wind blow through the roof and along the window outside as it pushed the rain at an angle. The instructor whistled.

“That’s some nasty weather,” he muttered. When you didn’t respond in agreement, he looked back to you. He sat straighter when he saw you covering your ears with your palms. “Y/n?” He called as you seemed to remember where you were as you lowered your hands immediately and placed them back on your lap. You crossed your legs, bouncing one of them as the rain continued to hit the building and window and the thunder continued to roll.

It was impossible for Hoseok not to see how jittery the weather got you. He slowly scooched closer to your side after reaching for the previous mentioned granola snack he had with him. He offers it to you, hoping to ease you. You accept it, taking anything to keep your mind off the weather blaring outside like sirens in your head.

“Not a storm lover, eh?” He asked, but as lightly as he could. He asked in the same way someone would cover a child with a satin blanket. It was soft and comforting the way he spoke. You shook your head as you bit into the grainy snack. “I don’t mind them so much, but I guess some people really can’t stand storms.”

“‘Can’t help it,” you mumbled after you swallowed a bite. “I’ve been scared of them since I was little and just never outgrew it.”

Hoseok was soon rubbing your back as he sat next to you. You jumped every time thunder sounded and closed your eyes with a small yelp each time you caught a glimpse of lightning. Luckily enough the storm didn’t have nearly the strength to blow out the power, so he wouldn’t need to comfort you in a black out at the very least.

He was sitting beside you for nearly half an hour before he finally thought of something to keep your mind off the storm.

“Y/n, dance with me,” he pitched into the empty room as he continued to rub your back. You shot your head up to look at him, cheeks hot and mouth open in a small ‘huh?’. He just chuckled. “We’re stuck in here anyways, so let’s dance to pass the time!” He told you he was already spinning to his feet before he grabbed your hands and started pulling you up and out of your cross-legged position.

“You can’t be serious!” You squealed as he got you standing. He ran over to the stereo system and hooked his phone up to it before setting a playlist. Soon, music started pulsing through the speakers as you felt the vibrations of the bass through the floor into your bare feet after long abandoning your shoes and socks.

He danced back to you as he grabbed your hands and started dragging you around as he laughed. “Come on! It’ll be fun!” Pretty soon, he was twirling you around every which way he could before he actually started to properly dance. You were reverting back to your dance brain as you started properly doing footwork and taking correct stances.

What started as goofing off to keep your mind off the storm turned into a private study with Hoseok watching your practice the very dance that kept you here in the first place this evening. He had turned on the song assigned to you and the small group of people who were assigned the same thing as it looped over and over again.

Drill after drill with different steps of advice and stance correction was more fun with Hoseok than you thought possible. He would push on your back to fix your stance or twist your calf when you stepped so you wouldn’t trip. He showed you how to dance certain parts as you mirrored him.

You both watched the reflections of yourselves dancing the same quick footwork number side by side over and over again. And each new drill came with bigger smiles and louder laughing. You had actually forgotten about the storm outside over the sound of the music and Hoseok’s laughter.

The storm had subsided well after midnight and you finally fell to the floor, ready for something close to a hardwood nap at nearly three am. Hoseok fell next to you, still in a fit of giggles as you just breathed heavily.

“I don't know if I’ve danced that much ever,” you panted as Hoseok rolled from his back to his stomach to look at you on your back staring at the ceiling. He rested his chin over his crossed arms on the floor as he looked at the side of your face. He finally looked at him, feeling his stares and flinched when you looked into his eyes. You couldn't bring yourself to look away now. “Hoseok?”

He smiled unconsciously bright at your casual calling. “You sound pretty saying my name,” he told you, making your face flush. “You looked even prettier when you blush too,” he teased, kicking his feet up behind him like a five-year-old. You turned your head away from him finally as you looked back to the ceiling, not able to hide your red cheeks as he just kept admiring them. “Hey, Y/n?” He called to which you just hummed, not trusting your voice. “Wanna go get some coffee in the morning with me?”

You whipped your head back to look at him, seeing his smug smile on his head due to your deepening flushed skin. You felt like you were on the brink of sweating, you were so flushed.

“I- uh, huh?”

“When we get freed from the practice room, let’s get coffee. I’ll cancel class so we can. I don’t want to have class after being locked in here all night anyway.”

“I work in the afternoon though,” you lamely told him. He just smiled away, unable to bring himself to feel upset about anything.

“Then I’ll drop you off before work and then pick you up to take you home when you're done.”

“That sounds like you’re trying to flirt with me.”

“Y/n, I’m asking you on a date. Of course I’m flirting.” He deadpanned with a smirk as you shot up from laying down to sitting up. You looked down at him laying on his stomach, that small smirk still painted on his lips as you turned away from him.

“Well, I guess if you’re asking me,” you muttered. “I suppose I could go for some coffee,” you finished. Hoseok had to suppress even more chuckles and teases at the sight of your smile he saw in the reflection of the studio’s mirrors when you accepted his offer.

“Well then, I guess you better get to sleep. We’ve got a date in the morning,” he chided as he shot up to his knees and palms, moved closer to just barely get into your line of sight to wink you. He crawled to his bag he used as a pillow as you lay across the room from him doing the same.

How could you possibly get to sleep now? It didn’t matter, you reasoned; as you’d have coffee later to wake you up.

~END~

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oosteven-universe · 3 years

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Resistance: Uprising #1

Resistance: Uprising #1 AWA Upshot Studios 2021 Written by J. Michael Straczynski Illustrated by C.P. Smith Coloured by Snakebite Cortez Lettered by Sal Cipriano Acclaimed writer J. Michael Straczynski returns the prescient, ambitious world of The Resistance! In the wake of the assassination of their leader, the Resistance is in disarray, disconnected from each other and hunted by authorities around the world – including an army of "reborns" recruited by the American government. To avert decimation at the hands of a fascistic government crackdown, the Resistance must discover the ace up their sleeve, and then the key to unlocking it. Wow I mean this is one of those books that you have to read several times before you can fully grasp what is going on here. I love that about this too because a cerebral story like this tends be utterly outstanding in how it engages the reader and lets them feel like they become a part of it. Also there’s another part of this that showcases a few things about our society that are ugly and those that is if the Government (s) see something they don’t understand they try to capture and control it, if that doesn’t work then they try to destroy it. All the while trying to replicate the situation so that they can utilise to create on their terms to once again control what is happening. Old men have fear in their hearts and the desire to control at any and all costs and it’s this that unfortunately sets the stage for majority of world governments. I love the way that this is being told. How we see the story & plot development through how the sequence of events unfold as well as how the reader learns information is presented extremely well. Also the transitions between segments is handled beautifully and I don’t get that jumping feeling that can happen when switching gears, scenes and characters. The character development is phenomenal and whether it’s Feyodor, Ms. Ramirez or Hernando, could be any of the others as well as their dialogue and how they act and react to the situations and circumstances they encounter continue to flesh them out immaculately well. The pacing is superb and as it takes us through the pages revealing more and more of the story we get caught up in the beginning of a revolyutsioner! God these interiors are gorgeous. How we see the linework with its varying weights and techniques being laid down to create such a high level in the quality of the detail work is utterly astounding. The backgrounds we see are mind numbingly sensational in how they enhance the moments and then when we add them into the composition within the panels and see the depth perceptions, sense of scale and the overall sense of size and scope they bring to the story i’m left in awe. The utilisation of the page layouts and how we see the angles and perspective in the panels shows such a masterful eye for storytelling. The colour work we see is divine. How the various hues and tones within the colours are being utilised to create the shading, highlights and shadow work we see is beautifully rendered. The different techniques in laying the colour down and seeing the hues you don’t automatically expect in certain colours shows a sensational understanding of how colour works. This could be Heroes done the correct way if you really want my opinion. It is violent, fresh, interesting and so damn intelligently written it’ll knock your socks off take, taking the foot and calf with it when it does. If you are looking for something that has action, intrigue and is full of surprises than this is the golden ticket you’ve been looking for!

#Comic Books #Comics Reviews #AWA Upshot Studios

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pterawaters · 4 years

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Stonathan 41. ghost/living person au

Sorry this took so long! I kind of got carried away!

January 1987

By the time he was a freshman in college, Jonathan had gotten used to the fact that he saw and heard things that normal people didn’t. Filtering out the real from the not-real was something of an art. The camera his mother had given him for his thirteenth birthday had been a big help. Only the real things showed up on film. And if his art teachers liked his sanity-check photographs and saw artistic value in them, so much the better. They never won him many friends, but they won him a scholarship to NYU, his dream school.

New York City was crowded, and honestly it helped. If his eyes tracked something that wasn’t actually there, something real was close enough behind it that no one noticed his strangeness. It was easy to blend in.

Sometimes the visions noticed Jonathan noticing them, and would try to talk to him. Jonathan rarely responded, for fear of looking like he was talking to himself. For fear of people finding out he was crazy, actually. His first semester of school he made one friend, maybe, but he did well in all his classes and kept his scholarship.

The first day of spring semester, Jonathan found the classroom for his freshman composition class ten minutes early. He went in and sat down, pulling out the reading for literature class. Two other students were already there, and others started to trickle in. Like always, some of the students had other figures following them, haunting them. Jonathan didn’t pay attention to any of them. That was, until a girl with curly brown hair, who was wearing a calf-length skirt and a sweater, came into the classroom.

A tall young man followed her, crying out, “Nancy! Nancy, come on! I’m right here! Why can’t you see me?”

God, Jonathan hated the new ones. They were always so loud. He rubbed at his sore temple and steeled himself for an hour of barely being able to hear the lecture.

“Nancy!”

The girl sat down two rows ahead of Jonathan and a few chairs over. The boy following her perched on the back of the chair next to her. “I don’t know if I can sit through another one of these nerd lectures, Nance,” he said with a scoff. “I mean, there’s a reason I go to State, you know. It’s a good party school. Not so serious, like here at NYU.”

Read more on AO3

#stonathan #steve harrington #jonathan byers #prompted fic #ptera writes things #stranger things

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pattersonellison92 · 2 years

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replica birkin bag 20

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sirjustice1344 · 3 years

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now way they are going to amount up rather the below

Reason 4 dirty acts like wanting women, Japanese cars not in Eu or America much, can be counted, so eliminate the same or minimize as with the above and u see good spirit of wanting ya own and ambushing people reduces dude and dont help people as people who help others out of research 99% suffer or desturb people later as those they help take like the attire or money given to medicine man to infuse that spirit or the part u touch on that sack, they hate cat Island people dude who help people of Edmonton, Edinburgh of UK and allover Florida as wise more than Mr White man dude while melabourne people were from Wales Cardiff yani giero welo as hotels or bus thing or waist, kiuno or songs as wer, then thoggi wembe as sharp articulate mouth and father from Denver buried in Tallahassee had the Cardiff blood, Egyptian, old borana are Egyptians b4 the Omani infusion of the same in East Africa, and Ghana tribe origin, mother was susu mende of Gambia tribe they love Ndege as if u look at my face meaning one of my forefathers worked in the California Boeing company or Seattle, Washington the love war, Chesapeake city residents are of mande descent as above mother mother as grandma was buried in Arlington sister with Malcom X from Omaha while the father to my mother was from kano along time luo Egyptian without infused kikuyu blood and furthermore was Gambian as well and portugues and was buried Chesapeake and was Tuareg in blood also out of the great great grandpa marriage on both side i can trace but takes time ask my Mother working at the casket shop if am wrong or write dude, Chesapeake people were from Gabon and Niger some Gabon or lest say Mande speakers, they like speaking, listening to speech, kucheza, talk as if they got cash, penda kuketi peke yao as being alone as are of KEIYO tribe blood of along time b4 the omani infusion

My father father of my grandparent were from Oregon city of bend and was buried in Wichita Kansas at the grave in the link or underline below

Adorers of The Blood of Christ Convent Cemetery

While the grandma on my father side was from Omaha, Nebraska and was buried as well in Wichita, KS at the grave in the link below and i can trace the fathers of my father parent were they were from, from Edmonton then Migrated to Carli4nia, but male side, to work with Boeing and the to Seattle b4 settling again with Cessna at Wichita while great grand mother worked as parcel distributor in Carli4nia, worked 4 hotel in Seattle and then in Wichita worked 4 a charity organization esp Com-care and all my character are of those, b4 settling at Edmonton, Canada they emigrated from Australia city City out of hotness, they loved cold and persistent forest fires not good 4 health of kids and curse to animal, their fathers to the immigrants work in money printing firm in Australia b4 settling in Canada opening baby care or school and settling a garage dude and ask my mother dude if am lying bro, the Omaha grandma was sister to Roosevelt frankline Delano while the Australian Migrants were cousins with Booker T Washington father to MLK but not know as my case not know so u know and correct it 4 good dude

Cornerstone Pentecostal Holiness Church

When their is 16 Km hole on earth crust, then 1 telephone an easy thing but 2 fold will be known that it is 16 Km they have placed people in debate dude and when u can make radar of radius up-to 62,200 then those nations in the middle of the earth take per-eminence they are eyeing dude as the wave cuts across all land surfaces no side left as when In like USA only the other side got no country and those waves a waste lest the place another but it will be an ocean an headache but when got ships to place the same bringing out weakness they hate but can identify shallow trenches within deep sea and makes island or mountain top to place the radar as place cooked kale mixed with cooked cabbage on water, then your ankle on Cd hole on the same water as u can fix it with glue to stick b4 placing it on water in a bucket like mouth propeller of a wood speed boat placed as u chop hay bar on wood soaked in lime juice with dry maize or in lemon juice with paw paw seed chop and boom ya mountain to place the radar or wash hand in surgical spirit with kids but all hands with sweater immersed on it as u wear the same dude. Tuskegee University and me love University, mother father mother or father was also a Yorkshire from Bronx island confuses me as also were i am i run out of cash dude, so squeeze everything dude

Drink milk straight from the cow as the calf do with cut sugar cane pieces and brings ya life span to 180 years as u see on that radar scale within ya forehead as Malachi 4 cements the truth dude

Nyamau herb made when carrot mixed with hay, ankle on Cd hole on wall, chop guava on wood soaked in milk in hay bar in the dark in gone down placed within ya yard place basin or container or write nyamau tree leaves many and cross with ya hands using a pen like 5 same then fold and step on within CD hole on hay bars with acid mixed water, b4 washing feet in hay extracts with kids holding the soil with ya finger as detective do with cocaine and boom ya medicine or chop cabbage on wood soaked in milk with corpse hand on the same board or in corpse hand heap, heap as grass on the road with hole as can be cylindrical or in gone down places within ya yard place grass in basin and boom ya medicine in the dark or moonlight or dim bulb light or kale and spinach as the heap, chop cabbage on wood soaked in hay extract in sewer water, ankle on CD hole on the wall in the dark, heap on gone up places within ya yard in basin or wash feet with kid in surgical spirit lantern without glass present or add milk to water and boom ya nyamau medicine dude but in the dark bro

The city of Roanoke was the city of Noah with the flood during those days as they are of Bangladesh descent and some Hindu and love traditions dude, 4 ya information if u wanna know dude

Hyper-loop train the yellow leave place in millet/sorghum porridge, then hurl brown spirit liquor on running sewer water on grass sand land but partially slanting as ankle on CD hole on mud below 4 the train and side heap 4 the tunnel in the dark

With yacht, speed boat, cruise ship pineapple in the yellow leave, ankle on Cd hole on side heap of mango standing as u hurl cocoa water on sewer water running as above in dim light and boom ya speed boat while yacht pour out cocoa fumes on semi hot sewer water that can be emitted from a nearby tank and when super hot gives ya cruise ship next to the ocean or within ya yard gone up places or down make a big hole to accommodate the same b4 lifting with cargo drone many, while Big cargo ships made when pineapple same in the yellow/green leave, ankle on Cd hole on hay bars side ways or can place all veggies, berries, fruit cut pieces in one suck to rub the ankle on CD, U HURL OR POUR OUT ORANGE juice on stagnated sewer water like in blocked way in its flow or in a container in the dark and boom ya big E-ship bro while big missile, hay in that yellow leave, ankle on Cd hole on mango heap sack, as u hurl guava juice, white, on sewer water mixed with lemon juice 4 water missile or mixed with paw paw juice 4 air missile or avocado juice or place kale on the sewer water where u hurl porridge or guava juice and boom ya missile in the dark in gone up or down places place a container after hole dug or same on the roads dude, get a taste of the song in the link below as u compare bro

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mVyztZXPFCQ

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K1MibusTvbU

Ask any question earth radius to the outer crust distance in Km, write many and cross like a plus but not across the writings sideways in between or below, then step on within CD hole on hay bars with mineral water, ankle on Cd on wall chop hay on wood soaked in milk and boom ya answer in the dark in gone down places or wash feet with kids, CD, in the warm water, when not opened gives ya in Circular disc while when open gives ya in flash disk and on paper wash feet in surgical spirit with cow feet inside cut or alive and even just one with kids your hand with mixture of all oils as cooking, engine or skin on the stone wall and boom ya findings and with every question as distance from earth to mars and any planet and their radius, temperature, gases compositions etc, as u try with much heap in the chop and placed or of the wash or press with knife or ruler or fixed on the shoes not to use 2 heap which hard to investigate but can use one heap but place like flower below or cans or mlk boxes to a void the friction void produced in the end boom process dude

People of Keiyo in descent if u watch their faces u see the topography of Kericho city as combines that land both dude or asembo bay as resembles Kansas or Onding as they love boring to others places as plain lands or rolling planes as they know how to explain shit dude, they love partially wonders of life not all that people glue or lured to like Manhattan, No, no, no they love partial wonder things not known to others and even secrete beauty and booty or body shape but not silent, not unrealized with many unless money present dude and that's with My mother, Sydney pointer took my writings in His book True measure of Man or we share the same experience not to blame him. Jericho was not Kericho a longtime but was current Voi in Kenya when the voices were heard dude and when u love good cities as USA 10 big when u give birth they plan with ya wife as they did to the shift babies as above loving already made destroying the society, Italian blood my father had but knew it wen t Tallahassee not Miami s they get furious and even rapidly exhume ya grave like with those buried in NY

Middle nations to place the satellite as in the link below they are eyeing without have known how artificial hills or islands made but now knows the same as in the link below

https://www.google.com/search?client=ms-google-coop&q=countries+in+the+middle+of+the+earth+list

Tamarind mixed with Euphorbia forms heap 4 making like Aids drug in the boom process and with hay when u make with applying oil brings hairline back bro as the heap as u can try homies

The Internet provider firm should get the code of WiFi from their customers and re-input theirs so not known with the customer so no re-selling of internet to another fellow who also eats via organized betting now to talk to women and if they talk with them, kinda, play as if they are looking after kids, what keeps kids alive is food they want the same as kid meaning competing 4 the same with kids walking in food stores locating those eating to want to share theirs foods without 2nd thought if u refuse champion and plan ya attack dude, women its u stop it , don't tolerate the same bro

Negros do what they do u hate, so Mr white man set them free if they behave like that like them they hate and even mistake u 4 their women and most people watch Negro things thinking they will know English and be like White men which i finished along time with telling Chinese more than they make and now every tribe only remaining is their women which every nation ought to have to finish completely every puzzle and equitable/same structures so u don't enjoy the movie not as with Jamaica Riddim now stopped dude people believe not and even stereos people wanted they want not dude. Chesapeake Residents most are from Croatia blooded and haters of Bad and assassins dude or leaders if those they want not love play as kids or not in-tune with law they equally assassinate dude and my blood and they got Keiyo blood dude or low laying as keiyo is low plain dude. St Paul was Croatian in blood and see what he did dude. Boran skin blurred, if u lie with what one does though people transfigure it gives those people curse not him if u cant save the day and may with insanity of many white people with those blood he has mentioned dude

Along time boran blooded people talk as if mud and love boring lands and rings/waves on hair dude but the current ones infused with Arabs, oromo or gabra, trukana blood so they are me and me not them as Hindu are Colombians but Colombians not them as they got TRukana, kikuyu blood while the Colombians got not yet they see both things on their eyes dude like 2 brothers of same mother but different fathers are not the same out of not shared father and no joke about it dude though u share mother and can kill ya dude

2 pac after being burnt half way was buried in Minneapolis MN on ya way to Chicago Ave on the road leading to the city u see the skyline on down side road to wells Fargo office where roads have side fence of woods as in the like below just off the Wendy’s

https://www.google.com/search?client=ms-google-coop&tbs=lf:1,lf_ui:4&tbm=lcl&q=wendy%27s+minneapolis+on+which+address&rflfq=1&num=10&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwjMyrjjgKruAhUZSxUIHVV8DSoQjGp6BAgEEDY&biw=1280&bih=910#rlfi=hd:;si:1909246712237134652;mv:[[45.10311224886572,-93.29416844211426],[45.01034632804205,-93.44179722629394],null,[45.05674810000001,-93.3679828342041],13]

Tamarind with awiny tree back also can form a good combination 4 making Hiv and other curative drugs heap and Bracelet thing can be a company not tied to a phone as without sim of long range as heap can be hay and mango, Ankle on Cd hole on hay standing sack in dim light as u chop hay on wood soaked in milk 4 the phone app or soaked in mixed milk and white guava juice 4 the radar while in red guava juice mixed with milk 4 the controlling pad as with Toy drone as the heap can be on red soil road or within ya yard in gone down or up place within an inserted tank or basin as u can write bracelet radar system with GPS phone tracker or control TV unit as u write in different line and make a sign if different things but cross when many similar writings as with photos, fold step on , on Cd hole on hay sack heap, chop mango on wood soaked in paw paw juice and milk in the dark in gone up or down places as above hands on oil rub on the wall 4 the software, hands on paints rub on the wall 4 the radar while hands on pineapple cut pieces rub on the wall for the control TV but in the dark dude and boom ya bracelet software and radar company thing while computer app apple juice mixed with guava or tire fumes alone on one hand press on the wall and boom ya computer app dude

Even 4 international sports they liaise with those team members to place bets which they know will win as of big win odd easy to loose which they build their cities with they are rude which when such removed and live 3 chances left as win, lost or draw they are left tongue tied now wanting in force ya food and even with the Russians as putting Involved, eradicate all funny odds and remain with the 3 but later ripple effects even with those with kid on restaurants on those who eats, please kill them with Gas, they win women with such and even their foods, cars and liquor as organized to to the same dude, Kenya Rich even when its crystal clear its poor cause they know the above to relent when unearthed dude

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ask-de-writer · 4 years

Text

SEA DRAGON’S GIFT : Part 22 of 83 : World of Sea

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to World of Sea

SEA DRAGON’S GIFT

Part 17 of 83

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

140406 words

written 2007

Reproduction in any form, physical, electronic or digital is prohibited without the express consent of the author.

//////////////

Users of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights. They may reblog the story provided that all author and copyright information remains intact. They may use the characters or original characters in my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical compositions.

All sorts of fan art, cosplay, music or fiction is actively encouraged.

///////////////////////

New to the story? Read from the beginning. PART 1 is here

///////////////////////

A murmur of eager assent ran through the crowd. Kurin seated herself comfortably, wrapping her hands about an upraised knee and began her story.

“Long ago, in the time of the First Ships, before the First True Ship, Men had just come to Sea. They had crossed the Dark Sea and could not go back where they had come from. They had not yet learned what they could eat and what they could not. They did not even know about the Great Dragons. They fished by net and spear and tried to kill everything that they found, to see if they could eat it, or what they could use it for.

“One day, they were found by a pod of Orca Whales, who, as you all know, are very curious creatures indeed. The Orcas were drawn to them because they had never seen anything like those things that floated on the surface of the sea. The First Ships.

“The First Folk were excited by the Orcas and decided to take a small one to see what they might be good for. They speared a little Orca calf and dragged it aboard their Ship. It was a terrible thing to do, but the First Folk didn’t know that.

“Yet.

“Within the day, their nets came up completely empty for the first time but not the last. Suddenly, they could catch nothing. They could see the Orcas in the depths driving fish away from their hooks and nets. All of the Orcas stayed carefully out of the reach of harpoons.

“Just the one First Ship was besieged. If they sailed near to another of the First Ships, only they would catch nothing. They ran out of provisions and began to starve.

“Really hungry people can do bad things because of their hunger. A young mother, watching her child waste away, could stand it no more. She took her child to the rail and cried out, ‘Better Jenn drown quickly than starve to death!’ Before any could stop her she cast her son into the waves.

“With horror, those at the rail saw a large Orca slashing up from the depths toward the drowning child. She, for the Orca was the mother of the little Orca that they had slain, breached wide of Jenn and dipped her broad head under him. She lifted him from the water and waited beside the ship, holding him safe.

“Some brave man, or perhaps it was a woman, nobody knows for sure, cast a rope over the side and went down to pick little Jenn from the Orca’s head.

“By that action, without words, one mother spoke to another. She said ‘My child is gone. The death of yours will not bring mine back. I am sorry for us both.’ She sang then, and sounded.

“The First Folk knew then that they were not alone. The Orcas were people with thoughts and feelings too.

“The Orcas went away for many weeks. When they returned, they brought Blind Mecat with them. That is how the friendship of Great Dragons and men began and also the reason that we never hunt the Orca Whale.

“Even more than us, they are People of Sea.”

Kurin got down from her sales board. Children (and grown-ups) converged on her booth. Laughing and chattering, they bought toys and kits. The small boy with the stuffed paddle duck came up and tried to give it back.

“Here, Kurin. I shouldn’t have this. I can’t pay you for it.” He seemed near to tears with the effort of trying to do the right thing.

“You don’t need to pay me, I gave it to you. What’s your name?”

“I’m Arnat, from the Grandalor.”

“Well, Arnat, you helped me to tell my story. The duck is your payment, OK? You earned it.”

Eyes shining, Arnat said, “Thank you,” and vanished into the crowd.

While Kurin was watching little Arnat go away with his new toy, she saw one of the exotic looking hooded sailors of the Dark Dragon shopping for lace at the Longin’s booth. She and almost everyone else had been told about the strangers’ custom of hiding their faces and how seriously they took it. A man about half again as large as the Dark Dragon’s young woman made a playful grab at her hood. His foolish grin turned to agony in an instant.

She struck his arm away with an upward rotating chop and riposted straight up along his extended arm. The heel of her hand thrust solidly into the pocket of his shoulder, driving him off balance. Her right hand swept instinctively for the empty scabbard at her right leg and converted the move to a powerful, stroke into his gut, just below his ribs. The force of the blow, which didn’t stop until well after contact, lifted him from his feet and crashed him to the raft. Almost the same instant that he hit the deck the girl landed astraddle of his chest, driving a knee solidly into each of his shoulder joints.

Kurin was amazed at the deadly efficiency that she had just witnessed. Just then, a somewhat elderly woman pushed her way through the crowd that had gathered, “Make way, you squabble of gulls!” She enforced her demand by shoving a few reluctant people out of her way.

The woman clapped her hands sharply and the girl looked up from where she was methodically slapping the downed man’s face with hard driven right-left-right strokes. The woman made a few signs with her left hand, a big knife of Wing Ray fang held ready in her right.

The girl responded with a long and frantic looking passage of signs, using both hands. Slowly she backed away from the fallen man, visibly calming as the older woman signed to her.

The woman looked down at the man and told him, “Listen up, you Scavenging Bustard. You are lucky that Lenhe was unarmed. Face-rape is no joke to Winternighters like her. Not to me either. I am adopted to Winternight so it’s not quite as hard for me to be without my hood. Still, if I had my way, I’d pin you to the deck and let scavengers take you. If you try this stunt on anyone else, I will help to kill you, clear as clean water?”

She crouched beside him and prodded him in the side of his neck with the big knife until he said weakly, “Clear, Ma'am.”

TO BE CONTINUED

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#SEA DRAGON’S GIFT #Part 22 of 83 #World of Sea #Written by De Writer

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