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whispereons · 9 months

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Oracle!Reader Part 8

Masterlist - Part 1, Part 7, Part 9

Gonna be honest, Y/N is not nice in this chapter. Not like abusive but just wanted to warn ya'll. My au is supposed to be dark and cruel in a way. This is yandere imposter sagau after all.

A storm brewed above the ship as the two hydra heads roared toward the sky. Shielding your face with your arms you tried to gaze up at the towering dark blue bodies. The teal markings on its armor-like heads let you know who exactly was attacking you.

Beisht, Avenger of the Vortex. AKA Osial's wife who not only has a grudge against Liyue but Beidou specifically due to her warning Ningguang about Beisht's attack.

The Crux has probably gone hundreds of times to Inazuma peacefully but the one time you go is when they get attacked by a sea monster.

Just

Your

Fucking

Luck

Beidou's laugh rings out as the ship sways from the currents and the crewmembers start running to their weapons and positions. Not missing a beat Xinyan ends her song as she uses her vision to blast fire at Beisht.

Holy fuck, this wasn't an accident. This was planned. Beidou planned this shit and went through with it even though you, a guest, are on this crazy ship.

Anger swells up in you like a tornado and you ignore the blasts of water that try to hit the jumping form of Beidou. You look around in blind anger for one of the ballistae on the ship.

The thought of shooting either Beidou or Beisht with it was making your blood pump faster. And even if you did hit Beidou, you could always lie that you were aiming at Beisht.

You spot the closest one and start running towards it. Firm hands wrap around your waist and lift you off the ground.

"I apologize for the urgency, but this isn't a safe spot for you."

Kazuha's calm voice in your ear has a soothing effect on your temperament. Forcibly relaxing your body, you let Kazuha carry you down the stairs and he sets you down quickly in a room.

"Stay here while we take care of the sea monster. I don't want you getting hurt, it will not have mercy on you."

You clench your hands as your body trembles in anger. It's Kazuha's worried and sad eyes that make you unclench your fists.

"I know it's scary so please heed my words."

Burying your head into your knees a muffled sound of confirmation slips out. If he wants to think you're scared, let him. Some time alone might even be good for you.

Kazuha leaves and it's then that you can hear the sound of the fighting as the boat rocks. Xiangling and Xinyan's pyro make the air sticky as Kazuha swirling the water makes it humid too.

The crackling of thunder no doubt from Beidou makes you grind your teeth. You were right to be afraid of going with the Crux, she may be popular but she's far too dangerous.

That was definitely Beisht, you think back to her boss fight and remember her attacks. Shooting water, slamming her head and neck, water missiles, and wait wasn't there a third head?-

A loud bang echoes as the ship starts tilting dangerously. Yelping you shield your head from the items that start falling onto you. Another deafening thud and you're being thrown onto the opposite wall.

As more heavier items crash onto you, the wall makes a cracking sound. You couldn't be sure that it was the boat breaking but you couldn't risk it.

If you stayed here, you'll either be crushed to death or drown if that wall breaks. The Alcor keeps rocking left to right as you struggle to stand and leave the room. Closing the door shut, you know you have a few more bruises than you came in with.

The hallway is even worse than the room. Harpoons and other weapons are dangerously close to falling and you rush up the stairs to avoid that disaster.

The main deck is a chaotic mess of crewmembers running back and forth. Xiangling is continually setting wooden spears and stakes aflame before different crewmembers shoot it.

Xinyan, Kazuha, and Beidou all work together to attack Beisht's heads whenever she gets close to attack. Keeping a death grip on the railing you watch the incredible yet infuriating display of power.

Finally remembering that you'll need to defend yourself too, you go back down the stairs. Swiftly you dodge the dropping objects and get to your room. Shoving your hand into your bag and selecting the sickle, you pull it out.

The fear of dying is remedied by the weight of the weapon. Sprinting with more confidence you get back to the main deck. Both sides of the deck have one of her heads low and close ready to shoot the powerful jet of water.

Something about the way she looks is... off. Your mind wanders back to the game cutscenes and automatically compares it to what you see now.

What were once toothless jaws were now filled with layers of sharp teeth. The underbelly of her bodies looked less watery and sleeker. The fins on her back looked firmer and seemed to be in a more organized row.

Beisht shoots the water from her mouths, and you can feel how hot the water is. Xinyan is quick to dodge by climbing the stairs while Kazuha leaps using the wind. Beidou uses her skill to defend herself and rack up energy.

As the scalding water gets closer you hold the sickle to your chest and try to back away. You may be crazy but not stupid enough to try what Beidou is doing.

Surprisingly she stops only inches away from you, lifting her heads she shoots the brunt of the attack toward the sky. Hot droplets rain down on the ship as the attack dies down.

Her heads regroup and her third one appears behind the first two. All her heads roar and they slam onto the deck. Instead of slamming onto you as you expected, she boxes you in the middle of the deck instead.

As two heads serve as the walls, her third head opens its mouth. The sight of the teal muscles with holes in them makes you shudder. Would dying to a sea monster be better or worse than dying accused as an imposter?

Probably better, at least this way you would be remembered fondly and missed. Even if it's only for a short while.

"Glorious creator, it is my greatest honor to have lived long enough to meet you."

What the fuck.

The sounds of everyone else attacking Beisht's other heads are drowned out as you look up at her in shock.

"Although my husband could not meet you, he was a devoted believer. These puny mortals are having you travel in such conditions with such little glory. Do these pirates not know your greatness?!"

Her tone gets louder as she speaks about the Crux. How could she recognize you as the creator? Were you right in guessing that the creatures of Teyvat could recognize you? But she's more on the god side so how could she realize but not Ei?

"Beisht, how have you heard of me?" If sea monsters gods could smile then that's exactly what Beisht was doing.

"Your blood, your grace. They bleached your gold blood. They hurt you with violent intentions. Just as the scriptures said, the offenders will pay for hurting you. Teyvat is calling upon your true worshippers to deliver justice."

This doesn't make complete sense. Beishts own arrogance and hatred for Liyue is having an impact on her words. What does seem to be true is that Teyvat was alerted when you got hurt and is drawing strong creatures that it can connect with to you.

"Then this is something we should be talking with less distractions." Choosing your words carefully, you note how everyone has been listening to your conversation with Beisht.

It's a good thing they can't understand her. Whether she's intentionally not letting them understand her or not isn't important.

You motion Beisht to back away with a flick of your wrist. Beisht is expecting you to act like the creator, you need to play your part. This whole situation is a golden opportunity.

Beisht obeys your silent command and moves her heads off the boat. Beidou is the first to run up to you with how close she is. The battle comes to a silent pause as everyone watches your seemingly unharmed form with relief.

"Are you okay?!" The urge to scoff and give a snarky response is strong but you push it down. With a solemn expression, you speak clearly.

"I've been granted a rare opportunity to talk with Beisht according to the creator's will. I have messages to relay to her but I cannot do so with everyone here."

A rare confused expression crosses Beidou's face at your words as you step away from her and move closer to Beisht. With a tight grip on your sickle, you speak calmly to Beisht.

"Come closer so we can speak somewhere with more privacy. The matter of the divine isn't one to always be so open about."

Beisht seems to pick up on the identity you have in the eyes of the Crux and lowers her main head onto the boat. With confident strides, you walk to her head and climb on.

Fear and worry rise within you as you grip the middle feeler on her head and look at the Crux with a smile.

"I'll be back soon, so don't stop sailing. I'll catch up before you know it."

Your grip on the feeler becomes tight as Beisht's head suddenly drops into the water. A scream instinctively leaves your throat from the sudden gesture.

The last thing you saw before the ocean engulfed you was the various expressions of horror and fear on everyones faces. A small part of you smirks at the guilt that paints Beidou's face.

You shut your mouth and eyes expecting the salty water to drown you. Yet not even a drop of water touches you and the sight of the vast ocean surrounds you.

In awe you watch the air bubble around you supplying you with oxygen and shielding you from the water. Fish swim past as Beisht continues to descend into the depths.

Soon enough the only light around is the teal markings on her body. It reminds you of just how frightening the ocean can be. That at any moment Beisht could think that you're an imposter too and let you drown here...

Tightening your grip on her, you push those thoughts away. They will only hinder you, being nervous will make everything worse. You've made it this far, haven't you?

As a distraction, you think about how exactly this air bubble is being made. Was it Beisht, Teyvat, or did you unconsciously do it? Considering that you can only control elements that you accessed from the Statue of the Sevens then it can't be you.

Beisht was connected to the vortex and water. This air bubble wasn't just reusing your oxygen, it was supplying fresh oxygen. She can't control oxygen so that only leaves Teyvat. Then how could Teyvat protect you from drowning but let the electro from Ei hurt you?

Beisht finally stops and you can vaguely see the outline of her main body due to the glowing teal marks. It keeps reminding you of a certain god masquerading as a bard.

"Your grace, I see the false identity you hold in front of them. Yet I do not hold the same wisdom you hold, please enlighten me on why you hide yourself."

Her vocabulary is naturally arrogant but the tone she says it all in, sounds like she's imploring. It's good, you can utilize this and her natural dislike for humans.

"Coming back from that other world has left me very weak. I have little memories of when I was the creator and this body is weak. They see my unmasked face and assume I'm an imposter. Ei was the main culprit. Just a mask would solve that but my mere presence shows my divinity. Quite a few of my acolytes barely believe my words as an oracle, I would be a fool to publically reveal myself as the creator."

Your words are spoken with a sense of coldness as if you're completely detached from the situation. The water around you seems to raise a few degrees. Taking a risk you speak lowly with a mix of sadness and condescension.

"Humans and Archons are not that different. They cannot accept the truth if it's different than what they expect or desire. Greed and pride have always been the downfall of humans."

"Your grace, they do not deserve your attention or words. The Electro Archon will pay for harming you. They will all pay for hurting you. Thank you for teaching me, I will do your bidding. I will make sure that you'll never need to worry about me acting as foolish as those Archons."

Perfect, it's exactly what you wanted.

"We will take over and subdue Teyvat for harming you. We'll lay the Archons, humans, and anything else that dares defy you at your feet. We will make them atone for their sins. That pirate crew will be the first to pay! Not only have I lost my husband and child to them, they even harmed you!"

What child? They had a kid??? Wait that can come later, Beisht going out of control would harm the reputation you've built up, this has to stop!

"Silence." Your command is swift and your gaze is cold as you stare down Beisht. The quiet that comes makes you smile inwardly. Playing hot and cold towards someone who idolizes you tends to make them more attached. More desperate to keep your wavering love and affection.

"Now, now don't get too worked up. Going off and doing whatever you wish in my name is contradictory to what you said earlier."

"I beg for your forgiveness, your grace." Beisht lowers her heads in shame. A kind smile crosses your face and you reach through the bubble to pet her heads.

"I forgive you Beisht, mistakes are part of the learning process. You've already done so well in recognizing me. Why don't you start by answering my questions first? What happened to your child?"

Beisht closes her eyes and bubbles float up as her heads sigh in content over your touch.

"My child, born from Osial and I, fought for days against that pirate ship. In the end, they killed my child and his murderer gained a vision from it. Celestia truly mocks the defeated from the Archon War."

Sea monster, 'that' pirate ship, and a vision from his death.

Haishan is her child.

No wonder she hates Beidou so much. She basically killed her whole family!

"Haishan has lived in my name and with his death, he returned to me too. I can tell your anger is as great as your sorrow. Take comfort in my words and let your anger fuel your devotion to me."

Loneliness is a manipulator's best friend. Beisht is terribly lonely and will cling to you and your words as her only lifeline. And in your situation, a dog like this will be needed.

"I will your grace, someday I too will return to your loving embrace through death."

Gently she nuzzles your hands with her heads. Tracing the glowing marks that adorn her head you ask in a soothing voice.

"Tell me how you came to find me."

"After the battle with Liyue and the human-adepti I retreated to the depths of the ocean to heal myself. I was dormant when Teyvat called us. It spoke about harm coming to you, at how your gold blood had been bleached."

"Who is 'us'? You also referred to yourself as 'we' earlier too."

"I was not the only one stirred by Teyvat. The water has become more lively with strong elemental currents. I do not doubt that there are even more beings awakening on land. We are all being called to defend you and pay back your liquid gold blood. After so long without you, we are regaining our reason for living."

So if many other elemental monsters are being 'stirred' then that means you could get more allies. Guoba didn't even know he used to be a god until he was told so was it in character or not that he knew you were the creator? You'll need to find more evidence on land but this was leading to a favorable situation.

But Beisht's fixation on your blood being gold was not good. You'll have to address that now. If you wait too long and it reveals outside of your control she'll believe that you were lying to her. God knows what she would do to you then.

"On the topic of my blood, there is something I must clear up. My blood is not gold, it is red."

An eery stillness takes over the atmosphere and you seemingly look down at the 3-headed hydra. The feeling of her scales seems to heat up a little, gritting your teeth you continue.

"I sincerely hope that you are not doubting me. The scriptures never said that my blood itself was gold. The true meaning of that text is that my blood is as precious as gold."

Your blank expression and sharp eyes don't leave her. In one hand you hold your sickle above and electro-coats it with a dangerous crackle.

The looming threat of death washes over you as the sickle crackles with more ferocity. Teyvat heeds your silent wishes and hydro starts rapidly spinning around you. Swiftly you thrust it into the water and it hits Beisht as she thrashes from the pain.

"Forgive me! Forgive me! Forgive this arrogant and foolish follower!"

She roars and begs, your heart is as tight as your grip on her but the sickle still crackles in the water. She's a sea monster and that's the only reason she hasn't died yet.

It's only the sight of toasted pieces of sleek flesh on her that you pull the sickle out of the water and back into the air bubble. The electro fizzles out and Beisht's sad wails echo around you.

She's whimpering and begging with near-silent pleas for forgiveness. Your hand is gentle and warm on the head that she is carrying you on.

"Hush now Beisht, this punishment was something you brought onto yourself. Never doubt my words, my teaching is law. Do you see how futile suspecting and denying me of my divinity is? Crimson or gold, my blood is not what matters most, it is I that exist above you."

Beisht's body seems to curl around the air bubble you stand in as you continue petting and soothing her. Your pleasant humming is a sharp contrast to your rapid heartbeat.

You were either going to die to Beisht or die to your electro. But this turned out better than you originally thought. Even though it hurt you to cause the one powerful ally you have pain, it was necessary. You can never let her entertain the idea of betraying you.

If you must play the role of oracle in front of the others then you must play the role of creator in front of the rest. Y/N was the oracle, the creator, and most importantly a liar.

"The fact that you could sense my presence on that boat intrigues me. How could you sense me while Ei could not? The same goes for the other Archons, surely they would have felt Teyvat's call too."

"The Archons accepted Celestia's power which drew them away from you. They worship you the mortal or human method more often than the way elemental beings do. Changing their style of worship may have connected them to other mortals better but it also muddled their sense of hearing Teyvat"

Her voice is hoarse and low, humbled after her punishment. Your smile was kind and your touch tender, but the sly part of your heart reveled in it.

"Tell me the difference between the two."

"Elemental beings worship by sacrificing parts of themselves to you. Some offer up energy, blood, lifeforce, and others give limbs. Only their own, offering up anyone else's would be sacrilegious. As elemental beings, we will always heal and reform. Celestia has possibly blinded them to the consequences of forsaking our worship to keep them away from you."

Now that was one of the most useful pieces of information you've gained thus far. What would happen if you convinced one of the Archons, not counting Ei, to try this style of worship? Would it enhance your position as the oracle, make you more suspicious, or give them the idea that you might be the creator?

Your thoughtfulness seems to make Beisht anxious, that's understandable seeing as you've proven to be volatile in her eyes. With a nearly patronizing pat on her head, you speak with a happy tone.

"As the creator, I require both elemental and human worship. I have many plans and it includes you Beisht. With each nation I visit and interactions with the Statues of the Seven, I gain more power. I will need you to spread the truth of my arrival to those who Teyvat awoke. Can I trust you with that?"

"It is a privilege to serve you, beloved creator. I will travel through the ocean and fulfill your command." She's clearly enthusiastic and grateful. You have her right where you want her.

"Stay quiet and careful, avoid fighting in general. I have much of the world to explore on my own and see to tell who deserves my forgiveness when everything is revealed. No rushing, I have a long life to live. The other elemental creatures will have the information I need too."

"I understand your grace. At this point and time, your main attention is to investigate the mortal's faith. I will stay unnoticed after this point so that I do not hinder your plan."

You had no plan on revealing your status as the creator. These words were only said to keep Beisht calm and peaceful. Beisht has such a terrible reputation as a villain that if she told the truth, it would only make them all think worse of you.

The little pieces of evidence you have acquired, proving your title might be enough if you were in regular Genshin Impact. But in this world with obsession, death, and violence, you could not claim that so easily. Beisht better be prepared to wait a long time, if not your whole life span which might not be long considering your luck.

"Can I really trust your words Beisht? You think lowly of the mortals for harming me but you have hurt me as well. And it's not when you doubted me, I'm talking about how you hurt me physically."

Your words are like a bucket of cold water. The suspicious gaze she receives from you makes her stutter.

"W-What do you mean your grace? The moment I spotted you, I drew away."

'Pathetic' that's what your expression told her. That's exactly what you thought of her. Her lie specifically.

"Never try to lie to me. This is your only warning. When you rose from the water, you spotted me first but you let yourself be distracted by the sight of Beidou. So caught up in the fight, it wasn't until I got banged up by everything that you finally spotted me and remembered your original task."

The words seem to hit the nail on the head as Beisht lowers herself to you. With an ominous air, you swing the sickle back and forth.

"I will not deny my sins. I lied to you and tried to hide it. Whatever punishment you choose is one I will accept wholeheartedly." Her voice wavers and cracks. She's scared and your smile makes her tremble beneath you.

But it seems to wash away as you rest your upper body on her head closest to you. Ignoring the lingering water droplets you pet her softly.

"It's okay Beisht, I know you were emotional after seeing Beidou. The pain and wrath were hard to fight wasn't it?" The forgiving voice you used was almost like a mask as you traced her scales using the sickle at the same time.

Unnerved, confused, grateful, and scared Beisht sounds like she's near tears.

"Thank y-you, your grace. The mercy you have on your creations is not something we deserve yet you give it anyway."

"I've been hurt so many times Beisht. So you'll prove yourself worthy of my trust right?" The sickle gets stuck at the brightest teal scale on her main head's forehead.

"Take this scale off and give it to me. This will be proof of your devotion to me." You whisper the command disguised as a request.

Without hesitation, Beisht's second head comes closer and you move away just in time to see her tug the scale off with her mouth. It's placed at your feet and it glimmers as you pick it up.

"It's beautiful Beisht. I will accept this as proof of your faith in me. It's time for me to be returned to the ship, do not forget what I have told you."

"Yes, your holiness." The attitude she has is much more subdued than the one she held when you first went down with her. You can now safely trust that in a worst-case scenario, you'll go to the ocean and have her bring you somewhere safe.

Fish and other sea creatures swim past you as Beisht brings you back to the boat. It's a lot further than when you left but that's no problem for the leviathan.

The Alcor is above you and Beisht only raises her head that has you on her above water. The air bubble dissolves and the sun shines down on you. The heat of it is welcomed after staying in the freezing deep for so long.

Yet it's the bright flash of electro that you are greeted with as Beidou jumps toward Beisht.

Thoughts bombard your mind on what to do, what to say. Electro, hydro, claymore, Beidou, Beisht, sickle, and defend!

With adrenaline and fear coursing through your veins, you bring your sickle up as a defense. Electro meets electro as the force of the blow keeps you both locked in place.

Planting your feet steady on Beisht's head, you grit your teeth and push harder against Beidou. In mere seconds your electro overpowers hers and Beidou is struck back to the boat with a pained yell.

The crew, Xinyan, and Xiangling rush to where Beidou was thrown. A sense of deja vu fills you as Kazuha jumps to you and quickly carries you away from Beisht.

After smoothly landing and setting you behind him, Kazuha brandishes his sword in Beisht's direction. The multiple cuts and bruises on his body show just how injured he got in the earlier battle.

A small part of you can't help but feel touched by his protection. Even though it's entirely unnecessary. Why didn't he immediately go check on Beidou? They are very close after all...

Letting that thought fade away, you place your hand on Kazuha's shoulder and smile reassuringly at him. Beidou grunts as she's helped out of the mess of broken wood.

A brief sense of vindication enters you at the sight of the multiple wounds on her, mostly likely from the previous battle. Splinters and new scrapes cover her exposed skin and a particularly big one went through her left palm.

The blood mixes with the wood chips as it drips off her palm. She's grabbing her weapon again and tries to head toward Beisht. Quickly you move to stand in front of her.

"It's alright Beidou, Beisht isn't going to attack anymore." Beidou's eyes widen as she takes in the sight of you. Not a single scrap or drop of blood is on you.

Turning back to Beisht, you motion her to leave with a hand gesture. Obediantly Beisht dives back into the water and disappears.

The waves start to calm and the clouds slowly disperse. You think of the electro you used against Beisht and Beidou. The control you have over it has been growing, despite how dangerous it is, you'll need more power.

Eyes widening in surprise you're spun around by Beidou as she checks your body throughly.

"I was so sure you died, I never meant to hit you with my claymore. I'm beyond grateful that the creator protected you." Your earlier spiteful joy at her injuries melts into guilt at the caring way she was handling you.

Smiling sheepishly you pat her uninjured shoulder.

"If the creator wanted me to die by Beisht then I would accept that wholeheartedly. I'm sorry for worrying you and everyone else."

That small petty part of you wanted to bring up how this all could have been avoided by just not provoking Beisht since they didn't know she was looking for you. But maybe you'll do that when everyone isn't injured.

"I'm not sure whether to applaud you or scold you for doing something so reckless but I think that would be counterproductive at this point."

Beidou shakes her head as she speaks before sighing. Turning back to her crew and friends her voice rises above the murmur of everyone else's conversation.

"Listen up everyone! Beisht has fled this area, but we can always be attacked at a later date. Get inside, rest up, and prepare to arrive at Liyue tomorrow morning!"

Multiple "Yes, Captain!" can be heard directly after her words before they scatter to various activities. You still need to talk to Beidou but she beats you to it.

"Y/N, I need to speak to you about the situation with Beisht. I'll get cleaned up in the medical bay and meet you at the head of the ship."

You nod and head to where she was pointing. Kazuha, Xiangling, and Xinyan follow Beidou to the medical bay. Would they be a part of whatever conversation Beidou wants to have with you?

Swinging your legs as you sit on the edge of the boat, the calm waves draw your gaze. What will Beidou tell you? What lies will you spin to protect yourself?

It's the thumps of footsteps behind you that alert you to Beidou's arrival. With a friendly smile directed at her, you suppress the urge to laugh at the feeling of eyes on you.

Xiangling is most likely in the kitchen as Guoba is nowhere to be seen. Kazuha and Xinyan on the other hand may have been instructed to watch or listen while hiding.

You already knew your stunt may have bad consequences if you aren't careful but you didn't think Beidou would make your job so easy. After all, the more people that hear this conversation, the farther your reputation will spread.

"Hope you didn't wait too long Y/N," Beidou speaks amiably as she strolls over to sit next to you. Her mood is hard to read with the way she smiles but you can still guess accurately.

"I'm all good, I would even say that the break was appreciated with how tired I was."

"Then let's not waste any more time. I'm not here to interrogate you as much as I'm here to explain myself. I put the Crux and you into a life-threatening situation and although everyone else knows exactly what can happen, you did not. I'm sorry about that."

Your feet hit the boat at a slow pace as you think about her words. Now that the anger and chaos of that situation has calmed down, you aren't nearly as annoyed. Not up to talking just yet, you simply nod.

Taking it in stride Beidou starts explaining.

"For the past few days, monsters and leylines have been unusual. The leylines are spawning in new areas with stronger enemies than usual. The behavior of the monsters is strange too. They wander around as if looking for something and the boss monsters have become less violent. It's worrying and on our way to Inazuma, I saw the ocean change. That's why I had Xinyan perform to draw attention."

Seems Beisht was right to guess that other monsters were becoming aware. Hilichurls may respawn but you aren't sure if another monster species that canonically don't regenerate will still be alive. You need to speak with the enemies most likely to recognize you.

"Seeing Beisht listen to you was shocking. I mean she has always been hostile towards people. I don't wanna push you to speak but I would like to know what happened."

"When I was forced onto the main deck to avoid being crushed by the boxes I saw a part of the battle. That's when I realized that I could understand Beisht and the creator ordered me to speak with her privately. Who am I to disobey? The conversation was enlightening, to say the least, and what you just told me has confirmed it."

Your dramatic and cryptic words confuse your listeners. Standing up and balancing on the edge of the boat you continue speaking.

"I have been granted a prophecy! Well more like a revelation of the current and future events. The creatures of Teyvat are exhibiting new behaviors due to the creator's will. Of course that doesn't mean we'll stop defeating them, just don't take it as some grand evil rising."

The nearly childlike joy you speak with only confuses Beidou further. She stands up and tries to hold your shoulder but you twirl away from the edge.

"When was the last time we saw sudden differences in behavior?" Your words are spoken with a carefree smile as you continue dancing away.

"That would be when the traveler arrived on Teyvat and leading to the awakening of acolytes of course!"

You playfully tug the white ahoge that sticks out from Kazuha's hiding spot. He doesn't even seem glum at being found so quickly.

"And why did that all start happening?"

The feeling of eyes watching you faded as Beidou moves closer to the spot you stood with spread arms. Xinyan wasn't here but that's fine, the story you've spun will be spread either way.

"Because the creator's return was starting to approach! It may be worrisome because the creatures may harm people more than they did before but that doesn't mean we can't celebrate that the creator is a step closer to coming back."

In reality, you just wanted more allies. Paraphrasing everything to fit the narrative that you desire was easy in this situation. Very few people could tell if you were lying or not after all. In fact, some would even-

"Agreed. At the same time this all has been happening, the wind had gotten stronger. It's crisp and clear, it has become more active in communication too."

Between your celebratory smile and Kazuha's serene expression, Beidou had nothing to refute with. Instead, a wide grin crosses her face and you stumble as she drags you and Kazuha down to the main deck.

"Then what are we waiting for?" Everyone's eyes are drawn to Beidou as she yells. "The creator is a step closer to coming back to Teyvat and we all witnessed it! So let's celebrate like we mean it!"

It's impressive how nearly all of them already grabbed a glass of beer and raised it at her words. Cheers were heard all around as they raised the glasses and drank cheerfully.

Beidou had already released you and Kazuha to grab her drinks. Your eyes linger on the bloodied bandage wrapped around her palm. It was still bleeding heavily.

A familiar tug on your clothes brings your attention down to Guoba.

"Lala? Lalala!"

You don't fight the caramel-colored panda as he drags you toward the kitchen. It also doesn't let you notice how Kazuha was reaching out to you before being dragged into a conversation.

Xiangling runs around the kitchen with a tired but bright smile as you are pulled in.

"Thank you Guoba for bringing Y/N here! You can have this spicy cornbread as a treat."

She's quick to place a plate of food on the table and return to cooking. The sight of Guoba's food reminds you of your last conversation with Xiangling.

Yeah, you aren't forgetting that for a long time.

"Sorry for calling you here after so much went on, I just had another favor to ask you. I was curious if you can bless food the same way the creator can."

Wasn't she the one who fought a leviathan, is still somewhat injured, and went straight to cooking??

"I've never tried to bless food before but I would be happy to try! What food exactly do you want me to bless?"

Blessing food the same way the creator does sounds a lot like how you would feed the characters in the game. The most likely method would be cooking the food yourself and seeing if it had any effects.

The only other way you could think of blessing food would be by putting some part of your body into it. Which would be disgusting and a pain to do so, so hopefully you just need to cook it.

"I want it for Beidou to heal her hand. It's bleeding pretty heavily and she needs it to use her weapon. I was thinking something easy like sticky honey roast."

"Then just leave it to me Xiangling, do you have the recipe?"

"Yep! Right here." She hands you a slightly charred paper before scurrying over to a pot that's almost boiling over. Would you need to cook this manually or just use a pot like in the game?

The recipe consisted of 3 meat, 2 carrots, and 2 sugar. Nothing else was written on it... How were you supposed to cook with only this?!

Sighing you take the ingrains as the young chef runs around the kitchen. With a lingering sense of unease, you drop the ingredients into the pot and light the fire.

You turn around to grab something to stir it and look back to see it cooked.

Standing there stunned, you look at the perfect sticky honey roast sitting innocently in the pot. Deciding to count your blessings, you serve it on a plate and confidently call it blessed food as you hand it to Beidou.

It works surprisingly well, the bandage is unwrapped to see the skin sewn back together and most likely repaired. Beidou whistles as she examines her hand.

"Gotta hand it to you kid, this is pretty impressive. I usually have to wait for the creater to come and heal me up or wait ages for it to get healed properly."

"This was all Xianglings idea, she deserves the praise. I'll be sure to tell her the good news." You leave as Beidou begins drinking faster with her healed hand.

So you basically never need to cook again, what luck! Would giving someone a fried egg, bring someone back to life? Or would it wake someone up from a concussion or coma? That would all depend on whether characters are dead or just passed out when their HP reaches 0.

Walking into the kitchen, Xiangling is busy putting the final touches on the feast she prepared.

"Got good news for you Xiangling. The blessed food worked and Beidou's hand doesn't even have a scar."

"That's great to hear! I was pretty worried she would have permanent damage or something. She always brushes her wounds off if they aren't life-threatening."

Xiangling pouts at the memory of Beidou's recklessness as you take the initiative to help her. The silence is nice but your thoughts keep wandering back to the human remains.

"Hey Xiangling, I've got a question for you but this might be the wrong time to ask." The look she sends you is one full of curiosity.

"What happened to the families of those you killed and made into food? Did they not get a burial, casket, or at least an urn?"

The expression she wears is a mixture of guilt and disgust.

"Blasphemous people like them do not deserve a funeral. They die and everyone will scorn them for betraying the creator. Most families disown that person or act like they were never part of their family."

She stays kneeling by the cart of food and Guoba trods over to her with his usual carefree attitude. She holds him close and speaks sadly.

"They do deserve punishment for what they did but I want to believe the creator would want them to perish with some good blooming from it. At least by cooking them, that person can help another life grow, and my cooking skill improve."

Each time you ask something like this whether it's Inazuma or Liyue, the situations are always so much worse than you thought. To think what you thought Xiangling did from some sick sense of worship, which isn't entirely false, was mostly born from her signature kindness.

Do you condemn her, comfort her, or encourage her?

"We may never know exactly what the creator thinks, all we can do is keep moving forward. For what it's worth, I don't think you're in the wrong. Your intentions are pure and it's not like your actions can make the situation any worse than it already is."

You bend down and place your hands on her shoulders. She looks up at you and smiles happier at your caring expression.

"Enough about that. Let's go bring these dishes out so we and everyone else can enjoy them. We should be celebrating after all!"

The prep she usually has comes back and she's pushing the cart as you follow behind her. Everyone cheers as Xiangling hands out food and people sit down.

Picking a plate of F/F, you sit on a crate next to Xinyan and Kazuha. Beidou seemed to disappear somewhere with Xiangling again.

The taste and texture are like nothing you've tasted before. Whatever she did to make your favorite food taste even better needed to be shared with you.

"Real happy with that dish aren't ya?" Xinyan comments as you basically inhaled everything but the plate.

"If this dish was meant to be savored then she shouldn't have made it taste this good."

Xinyan laughs at your words before continuing to eat the spicy food she has on her plate. By the overload of spices you can smell, it must be one of Xiangling's creations that Xinyan is so happy to try.

"Now that things have calmed down, I wanted to tell you that I loved your music! It was a bit worrisome with all the fire but I understand that you needed it for the battle."

"Aw, that's real nice to hear! Most of my performances tend to burn down the stage but rock 'n' roll is all about that kind of fire."

"Must have taken you a long time to learn how to use your instrument and vision without burning down everything."

Your comment is casual as you start eating one of the desserts Xiangling brought out. Alcohol is starting to be passed around, you aren't sure if you should drink or not.

"I practiced loads with people as the 'audience'. They all died during the test runs but it's fine since they were already known for being sacrilegious. Burning them to death as a sacrifice was the best thing they could hope for."

The dessert gets stuck in your throat at her words. Coughing a little, you keep your head down to avoid showing your face. Kazuha rubs your back trying to help you.

Was it a trend for pyro-vision women to tell you horrible things with complete ease?! First Xiangling with the cannabilism to Xinyan sacrificing people...

"That was legal, right? Do you still sacrifice people like that?" You struggle not to stutter and Kazuha is still watching you with that same worried expression.

"It is legal in Liyue with the right certifications. Not long ago you had that private concert with the burning of a few treasure hoarders if I remember correctly."

Xinyan nods in agreement at Kazuha's words.

Maybe you should stop being surprised and just expect everyone to have committed crimes like this. What's next? Brainwashing?

Kazuha and Xinyan continue to chat about whatever burning they may or may not have participated in as Xiangling comes over with some alcohol.

"Sorry to interrupt but I was wondering if any of you guys wanted some beer, rum, or grog. Grog is the lightest since it's just water and alcohol. I might just drink that since I just became old enough to drink."

"I'll just have a glass of beer, I have another concert tomorrow and the last thing I want is a hangover." Xinyan is quick to take a swing of the beer.

"I'll pass on the alcohol today, I drank enough yesterday." Kazuha glances at you as he speaks with a slightly nervous tone, no doubt remembering his behavior when he first met you.

"Could I have some rum? I wanna celebrate a lot after completing the first major mission from the creator." Discarding your previous thought of avoiding alcohol, you decided to drink to congratulate yourself for surviving this long.

Definitely not because you wanted a distraction from what you just heard from Xinyan. Nor of the idea that Liyue may be even harder to live in due to their dependency on Rex Lapis. That may or may not have also pushed them to be even more fanatic for the 'creator'.

The rum was sweet but it burned as it traveled down your throat. The strong liquor made your head spin for a split second. You're quickly coming to regret it.

"Hey, Kazuha? Can you watch over me as I drink? This rum is stronger than the drinks I'm used to."

You ask Kazuha with a flushed face as you rest on his shoulder. The lights shine down on you as everyone else is up enjoying themselves. As sweet as always, Kazuha smiles down at you and nods.

"I promise to watch over you. No harm will come to you especially as I don't plan on drinking a single drop."

Feeling reassured you thank him and continue drinking. The party is getting louder and messier with each drink given around.

Xinyan is singing and strumming her guitar as a good chunk of the crew sings along with her. Xiangling was passed out on a crate as her tolerance for it was still low. Beidou was the only one you couldn't see from your spot on Kazuha's shoulder.

"You're the work hard, play hard type huh?"

You sway a little as you jump in surprise at the voice so close to your ear. Kazuha peers around you at Beidou who was standing firmly despite the amount of liquor she already drank.

A feeling nags you that Beidou is still as sharp as ever. Someone who drinks as much as she does must have a high tolerance. The smell of alcohol is strong as she speaks.

"You didn't strike me like the type to drink rum, I would have thought you would go for a beer or just a single glass."

You follow her gaze to the multiple glasses next to you. It seems you drank a lot more than you initially planned.

"Don't look so disappointed Y/N! It's normal to want to relax with a good drink after such a long day. This is a celebration too. Let all your worries melt away."

She speaks with a cheer and your hazy mind makes you smile up at her. Your worries, anxiety, and general distrust of everything are the farthest thing in your mind.

The sharp smile Beidou sends Kazuha as he tightens his grip around your waist goes unnoticed. The weird tension that occurs is gone just as fast as it came and the liquor seems to hit you full force.

"I think I need to sleep, it's really hitting me now." Your head keeps falling onto his shoulder as you struggle to keep your eyes open.

"I'll escort you to your room Y/N-" "And I'll join you two with Xiangling, poor girl couldn't even handle the grog."

Kazuha's face is frozen in a smile as you drunkenly nod at Beidou. Xinyan who is still pretty sober waves at you all and you wave enthusiastically back.

Giggling as the room spins you let your body rest on Kazuha as he helps you down the stairs. Xiangling is thrown over Beidous shoulder as she follows you both down the stairs.

"If I ever let myself drink after this, I wanna drink with you next time Kazuha. Wouldn't it be fun?"

"That does sound nice, I'm sure the wind will have us meet again after this trip." Kazuha's voice can be barely heard through the fog in your mind. A crooked smile is on your face as you nod sleepily.

Fears of the future seem far away at this moment. The fear of coming across a statue of the seven and Zhongli appearing is like a distant memory. The mental image of saying the wrong thing, getting caught with the wrong group, and getting a torturous death is comparable to a dream.

As the urge to close your eyes gets stronger and harder to resist, you instinctively adjust your mask.

Your fragile and most important defense against a repeat of the Ei situation. Terror squeezes your heart as you realize just how dangerous this situation is.

All it takes is for Kazuha to remove the mask during your drunkenness. Whether it be out of curiosity of your face or kindness thinking it would be uncomfortable to sleep with it on.

Nothing you think, worry, fear, or do will matter after that. Despite the dismay, your eyes close as the urge to sleep overtakes you. With your consciousness drifting away and your body in the ronin's mercy.

I was really excited to post this chapter. Everyone's reaction to Xiangling's cooking was super funny. (Fixed it up on mobile so forgive the mistakes.) On the topic of Beisht, I have to say that my original plan was to have it be a oc. Haishan's ancestor from the Archon War. But after everyone was guessing Beisht, I started thinking if it could work. And surprisingly it did! All the main points I had with the oc worked with Beisht. Plus Haishan was still able to stay as a kid cause a visionless Beidou defeating a whole sea monster god just doesn't make a lot of sense unless he wasn't full-grown. And I honestly don't want to create an oc if I don't have to. I don't trust myself that much. Xiangling's cannibalism was supposed to be just a one-time thing. But a certain person mentioned Hu Tao and I realized I forgot to incorporate the rest of the world into it. So that's what inspired me to think deeper on it. I'm quite happy with how it turned out! It confirms Xianglings kindness, and the cruelty of the cult, and can help excuse any future plot holes I may accidentally create. So thank you certain person that I will not name in case that's uncomfy. I also wanted to ask ya'll a question. Do you guys expect certain sagau tropes from this series? Like I incorporated popular stuff like healing foods, mentions of gold blood, etc. But the only thing that I've really made set in stone in my sagau is the cult au and imposter au (without a true imposter masquerading as Y/N). I'm asking since I don't want people expecting something like a character to recognize us (like Fatui or acolytes from Khanriah -kaeya for example). Then get disappointed when I don't ever do that. Not saying I won't have interactions with those characters! I just don't want to lead anyone on. If you read this far then thank you <3. I really appreciate ya'll support. Just seeing a notification that I got a heart, comment, reblog or message makes my day. Taglist: @vvyeislazzy, @nikqi, @the-dumber-scaramouche, @etherisy, @yourlocalstranger123, @ra404, @iruiji, @goldenglow149, @haru-tofuu, @lsleepysimpl, @bebobeboben, @yuyuzi-ling, @amidst-the-tempest, @resident-cryptid, @mxd1zzy, @mochicurls21, @nervouseaglelover, @thedevioussmirk, @yumuramma, @kwqsla, @undecidingfate, @ehjane, @game-savvy, @akiramirae, @sielt, @fluffy-koalala, @formacoon, @sxftiebee, @khxii-i, @ursinaw, @chuuya-brainrot, @sweetbills, @kazuchaos, @snowfoxnix, @bluebelony, @conspicuous-mayonnaise, @pencil-of-ashes, @ghostlyintervention, @taiformaifoe, @sielt, @goaudduck, @carminerin, @maddysflowers, @zenith-of-all-zeniths, @crazydreamcat, @leafanonsforest, @grimreapersscythe, @leylanx, @undecidingfate, @sapphireknown, @help-whatdoimakemyusername, @zhonglisfruityass, @fluffy-koalala, @mer0n37, @victoria1676

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whipbogard · 2 years

Note

It occurs to Bruce once he’s scaled the stairs halfway, leveraging his weight with a single crutch over each step, that Harvey might not share his enthusiasm at exactly 7:03 in the morning. That just because he had woken up with restless energy three hours ago, wandered into the living room and caught sight of something which had planted a clear image of a happy, smiling Harvey inside his mind, it didn’t give him the right to intrude. It could wait.

The guilt wanes the moment he reaches for the handle, opening it with enough force to vibrate through the doorframe.

Harvey doesn’t even twitch at the sound. He’s curled into himself. Comfortably rather than tightly. His right foot is sticking out from beneath the comforter. Sedatives, Bruce recalls briefly. An effective dose.

“Harv,” he calls, leaning over the edge of the bed. Nothing. He jostles Harvey’s leg, “Hey, can you hear me? I need you to get up. It’s important.”

Harvey mumbles something, shifts over onto his back. His brow furrows imperceptibly.

The patient approach is no use. Bruce straightens and yanks on Harvey’s leg. “HARVEY.”

“Wha—?” says Harvey, jolting upright. He blinks a few times. Glances around the room, as if to ensure the room he remembers falling asleep in hasn’t changed, and then looks back to Bruce. “Bruce? Everything okay?”

Bruce is already turning on his good heel, beckoning over his shoulder. “Just follow me.”

“Alright. Give me a sec. Hey, are you even supposed to be moving that fa—“

The small shoot hangs to the left on its vine, a startling bright green compared to the leaves above it. It sways gently, almost like it’s aware it has an audience. He should probably close the window. Too much dry air. “Look at it,” says Bruce, awestruck.

Each leaf before it had been short lived despite their best efforts, something gardening articles suggested was due to “insufficient humidity”. This unfurling marks the first in over a month, sixth in total. For a while Bruce had feared the possibility for growth had stagnated, but Harvey’s steadfast conviction that it simply needed time convinced him otherwise. That’s the thing about hope, the endless lesson of it: it finds a way to thrive in even the most hopeless of situations.

Bruce sneaks a glance at Harvey, watching the way his smiles settles across his face, up into his eyes, beaming. Bruce’s imagination can never live up to the real thing. It seizes him, entirely.

Harvey laughs, keeping his gaze on the plant, and wraps an arm around Bruce’s shoulder, pulling Bruce against him. “Finally! Can you believe it, we really made that happen.”

“Finally,” Bruce echos warmly. He feels Harvey’s lingering sleep-warmth seeping into him. The hair at his temple tickles the side of Bruce’s face. He can’t remember the last time they’d hugged. He had considered it, at the asylum the day Harvey was released. He’d decided a pat on the back was more appropriate. The regret, he remembers clearly.

Bruce comes to his senses just as he begins to lean into it.

“Ah,” says Harvey, and then they’re both pulling away and off to opposite sides of the table.

An attempt to smooth the moment over feels like it fits wrong on his mouth, lopsided, so Bruce makes for the kitchen to search for the fine-mist bottle he knows isn’t there. “Might need refreshing,” he says, opening and closing cabinets.

Harvey clears his throat. “Good thinking.”

ANON I HAVE NO WORDS FOR THIS BUT A LOT OF SCREAMING AIMING YOUR WAY 😭😭😭❤️❤️❤️❤️ There are a lot of things in here that I could never express through my art sO THANK YOU!!!

Bruce sneaks a glance at Harvey, watching the way his smiles settles across his face, up into his eyes, beaming. Bruce’s imagination can never live up to the real thing. It seizes him, entirely.

This bit right here murdered me. It’s so SOFT IM 🥺😭

I know you said I don’t need to draw anything bUT I STILL WANTED TO SO HERE HAVE A DOODLE of them.. taking care of their plant baby like the proud parents that they are 🥲🥲❤️❤️❤️❤️

Earlier plant parents comic here

#wppyart #wppyrec #bruharvey #I got crazy emotional when I saw this in my inbox last night lmfao #THANK YOU ANON #ITS RIDIC CUTE AND SOFT AND IM JUST #😭😭😭😭

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tokoyamisstuff · 3 years

Text

Tender Ch. 2 - Loki x Mute! Reader

Summary: Winning the favour of the God of Mischief is not an easy task - even if he has already fallen for you.

Warnings: None.

Words: ~1600

A/N: Since I am writing several Series at once, together with Oneshots in between, the chapters are gonna be a bit shorter so I keep no one waiting. Hope that is alright!

[Story Masterlist] [All of my Works]

Taglist: @austynparksandpizza @queenariesofnarnia @commonintrest @buckylokisimp @just-someone-who-likes-to-write @lxdyred @frostay

The first weeks after your arrival at the Avengers Compound passed by rather uneventful.

Due to the fact that you neither had a family you could be attached to, nor many belongings ever since HYDRA had kidnapped you and destroyed your home, Tony insisted on you living at the tower - like many of the other members as well.

Everything was just so new and exciting, not even Loki’s gleeful mockery could bring you down from that high.

Little did you know that all of his pep talks about those ‘inferior heros’, the ‘illusion of power’ or how no one was ever truly good or evil had a completely different reason:

An attempt to get you to leave, for your own good. After everything that had happened to you, the god was worried how another fight would affect you.

Anyway, it was a luxurious life compared to your old one, with so many kind persons and new perspectives. And you were sure to return that favor once you’d learn to control your powers!

So until then, you would train as hard as possible and care for your new friends through little acts of service. Caring for others came quite natural to you, may it be listening to their problems or simply complimenting them to see their faces brighten up.

And for some reason, that particular character trait was the one thing Loki found the most annoying.

How could a person so naive and pure think they could actually join in battles against evil? You’ll only end up getting yourself killed - and to be honest, Loki thought this to be a waste.

And even though he’d never admit it, but jealousy was starting to get the better of him the more he observed you getting along with everyone.

They adored you - and they were very right in doing so!

But that would mean that you were just nice to everyone, not especially to him, right?

Every time you’d help Bucky through a panic attack, braided Thor’s hair or helped Banner in the laboratory, Loki only wished you’d be with him instead - and if he had to burn this whole place to the ground for this to happen.

Yet his pride kept him from voicing that desire.

For you on the other hand, it was frustratingly hard to get through to the God of Mischief. In comparison to how he treated the other Avengers, he was always reserved and courteous towards you, yet also unreachable distanced.

Only on a weekend where the other Avengers were on a mission, the two of you found a way to actually bond with each other, if only a little.

Loki had once again read every book he borrowed from Stark’s library, now having a reason to leave his room again. At least those subhumans won’t be there to drain on his nerves...

When he crossed the living room on his way to the elevator, he blinked heavily as he saw you plainly chilling on the sofa. He was just about to turn around and leave, when you hectically gestured for him to stay.

“Hey, Loki! 😊” you wrote on a notepad, holding it up for him to read.

“Greetings...” he spoke between gritted teeth, but your smile wouldn’t falter, so he stood rooted in the middle of the room.

“Do you want to watch a movie together?” How blunt could you be to ask a literal god directly, just like that?!

“Actually, I-” When your eyes met, Loki cut himself off, the words being caught in his throat. “Well, if you’re in dire need of my sublime company...”

You were quick to sit up straight, offering a bowl with popcorn to the Odinson which he curiously accepted. When he answered your question about what sweets they eat on Asgard, he wouldn’t understand why you’d laugh. Apparently ‘nuts and grapes’ are not considered treats on earth. Got it.

Yet that little huff you blew out of your nose instead of making an actual laughing sound came somewhat endearing to him, especially in contrast to your other noisy companions. “Adorable...”

Without even asking first, you’d wrap the other half of the blanket around Loki, effectively closing the gap between you two.

“Wha- I’m not cold!” he blurted out, visibly overchallenged by the sudden closeness. “I’m a Jotun, hel!”

What was he even so worked up about? Geeze...

“But the weather on Asgard is rather humid, right?” you wrote down, with him nodding approvingly. "It allows all kinds of flowers to blossom, other than this metal brick” he explained, your excited look not failing to keep him talking. “You should see it some time.”

Loki’s eyes were now locked on the screen, and you could basically grasp his homesicknes, very well aware that a failure and war criminal like him would never be tolerated in those holy grounds ever again.

Great...now you had achieved the exact opposite of what you wanted.

You tugged on his arm so he’d shift your attention to you again, quickly writing something with a barely there sulk on your face:

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to make you sad.”

Tears were already forming on the rim of your eyes, making Loki’s insides churn. “So sensitive...gods. Keep yourself together, would you.”

The Odinson instinctively wrapped an arm around you, his free hand petting your head as he pulled it to his chest. He was awfully warm for a frost giant, and his heart was hammering against his chest in a fastened pace - maybe just your imagination, though.

“Well, it’s winter...” he uttered, acting as if he actually cared about the plot of the movie. “I may not freeze, but you seemed cold. That’s all.”

You let your hand run across his collarbone, making him look down to you once again. He bit his lip as his icy glare met your warm one, eyes shimmering with earnest affection while you formed silent words with your lips:

“T-h-a-n-k y-o-u.”

“N-no need to thank me.” Just now Loki wondered what kind of spell you were using on him, being reduced to a shaking and stuttering mess.

No curse, no beauty ever before had bewitched him so much that he would lose his cool, let anyone peek under his confident mask, after all.

Not so long ago, when he was still considered the handsome Prince of Asgard, he would bed a different lover on each night, though never settling for anyone.

And after the revelation of his true heritage, even those fleeting encounters to ease his loneliness would falter - all that’s left was certainty that the theory he had ever since his childhood had proven to be true:

That everyone had always secretly despised him, the failure of the family and disgrace to all of Asgard. Only through his Jotun blood they had found a reason to not play along with the royal courtesy anymore, showing their resentment up in the open.

But you...you looked at him with completely different eyes than anyone ever did.

Maybe he had become softer, weaker over time - or simply more mature. His mother once told him to seize the moment when someone truly special would cross his way, and to never let them go.

“We could do this more often.” You shoved the notepad in his line of sight, and just now he noticed that two hours had sure passed in an incredible speed.

Just the two of you, cuddled up on the sofa, enjoying each other’s presence instead of dealing with the troublesome past.

“Well...” Loki clawed into your upper arm softly, no intention of letting you out of his grasp already. “I am sure your other companions are more fun to be around. As you most likely already noticed, I am known for ruining the mood.”

Loki had a habit of talking ill about himself, and letting himself down as well. Yet as he saw you eagerly scribble on the notepad, he knit his brows together, impatient to what you’d say next.

“But I want to see you.” The word ‘you’ was written in a thicker font, underlined several times.

“Why?”, that was the first and only thing crossing his mind. And yet there you sat, shoving the notepad into his face with a stern look on your face.

Loki was rooted on spot as you put the notepad on the table, instead laying your hands on his cheeks and softly tugging on the edge of his lips. “S-m-i-l-e!”

“E-enough!” he carefully pushed your hands away, afraid you’d detect the mild blush on his face. “Then it shall be. What did you have in mind?”

“Whatever you want.”

Loki finally arrived at the library to return his books, even though with a few hours delay. Realizing just how much he had enjoyed that spontaneous meeting with you, he began to panic.

Was it really a good idea to repeat this?

He was almost 100% certain that it would only end in him ruining your trust in anyone completely, if he’d ever allow you to come close to his core.

Due to him having saved you back then, you probably see him as something better than he actually was - and gods, how disappointed you’ll be once you’d find out what he really is like...

It was probably for the best if this would never happen, with him just keeping on to admire you from afar...

After a while of just staring into the void, mentally debating about your offer, he couldn’t help the fact that he was already looking forwards to meeting you again.

Uncertain how to approach the matter, Loki was at least eager to show you his goodwill.

For you have been the first person who - despite everything he had done - was willing to give him another chance.

"Greetings. I need every available book about sign language.”

#Loki #Loki x Reader #Loki x You #Loki / Reader #Loki x Y/N #Loki / You #Loki Odinson #Loki Laufeyson #Loki Friggason #God of Mischief #Marvel #Disney #Writing #Fanfiction #Self Insert

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literaila · 3 years

Text

live without

spencer x reader

request: Reader is out with the team for drinks but she’s isolated herself at the bar while the rest are at the booth. She’s drinking a lot the whole night to forget her feelings for Spencer and she gets really angry but also really sad when derek (or anyone) asks her why she’s indulging so much and causes a little bit of a scene. Basically she thinks he’s unattainable. Spencer asks her about it too and she gets defensive and is sorta rude to him to push him away but he’s all soft

warnings: mentions of alcohol, intoxication, needles, viruses, poison.. angst? im not sure, the ending is sort of rushed

Unattainable.

Nothing is unattainable.

Not your goals, not your dreams. Not the things you want the most.

Nothing is unattainable.

That's how the saying goes.

That's how it's supposed to be.

So, when you’re sitting on opposite ends of a bar, when you’re watching the air change and the wind blow even though you aren't outside, when you’re all alone in a chair on the opposite end of the bar- you have to remember

Nothing is attainable.

Or at least, that's what you think after a couple of drinks.

After meanings have changed and your smile has faded.

It's so much easier to put on a mask before the drinks, before your brain is buzzing and your thoughts are flying so fast around the room that they're almost hard to see. So much easier to watch your friends laugh and try to join in before that extra sense of clarity has hit your skin, and you can smell the sweat.

It's hard to remember what attainable is supposed to mean. Because you can't, you just can't reach out and grab whatever you want. Prices have to be paid and people have to be there. You can't just reach out and steal, you can't. People get in trouble for that.

You’d been drinking at this bar for hours, you were sure of it, sure that it had been a long time since you’d walked in the door with that bright smile on your face, and those wide eyes that had slowly started to fade away after hour one.

It was only two hours in when you’d started really drinking when the effects had really started to take their place among your being, taint your skin with something unwanted.

It was only three hours in when you’d stopped caring.

When you drifted away from the booth that your friends were sitting in, when you decided that smiling and laughing wasn't worth the energy and that you couldn't look as helpless as you felt anymore.

That was at least an hour ago. You’d lost track of time becoming friends with the bartender.

But now, you can't remember what you were supposed to be doing. Why you had come in the first place, how you had gotten there.

Attainable.

This wasn't.

You knew that, because nothing was attainable. Because you needed to brush your teeth and go to sleep, because you needed more water than your body could hold to wash away this aching in your stomach, and you’d need even more to wash away the alcohol. Nothing was attainable, because you were sitting alone in a bar you’d arrived in with friends. Because you were sitting and drowning yourself in too many drinks, because you couldn't keep your eyes off of him. Because nothing was attainable.

But that didn't mean you weren't allowed to look.

To gaze off in a direction you’d never actually be in. To stare for longer than your eyes could take.

You were at least allowed to do that.

He wasn't attainable. Should have specified because you were sure that if you wanted something else, anything else, you could probably have it.

But Spencer Reid, he wasn't just something you found at the store or something you could reach out and grab. He was so far away in a world of his own that you were sure you’d never see.

Love, you should have specified, because he was your friend. Because he liked all your jokes and he loved to laugh with you. Because the two of you talked for hours and hours on long flights home, and you were very good at filing the awkward silences in humid cars.

Love, see that wasn't attainable. Not with Spencer.

And the sayings were wrong, whatever they were.

Because you’d come to this bar with him, and you were sure that wasn't the way you were going to walk out.

Nothing is attainable.

And your heart wasn't going to break.

A bitter laugh was all it took to remind yourself of that. Another drink, why not. Another look over to him, where he was smiling with your friends.

You hoped he was having a good time. And that he hadn't drunk too much.

You hoped that Derek wasn't walking over to you like it looked like he was. You didn't want any more company than James, who said he’d supply you all night.

You tried to take another sip of your drink, an unwanted hand stopping you before you could.

Glaring eyes met Dereks and your temper was already starting to rise. You’d definitely had too much to drink. And you definitely weren't stopping now.

“Slow down Y/N,” a drunken smile spoke your name, a friend of yours staring at you. You were sure he’d seem more concerned if he wasn't intoxicated. “Why aren't you sitting with us?”

“It's very hot over there,” You said, sweetly, just to get him to leave you alone.

It wasn't as if you didn't love Derek, and his antics, and his pretty face. But your mood wasn't good enough for talk, and manners weren't your friend right now.

“Sorry,” he joked, waving to the bartender for another round before slipping his eyes to you again. “We miss you, you know. You should come back,”

Come back and sit with us and pretend that your blood pressure hasn't risen to the roof and that your heart doesn't need something more to keep it beating. Come and sit with us and be happy even though that feels so unattainable.

Goddamn, that word.

“Actually Derek,” you said, sighing a breath of relief as you looked away. From his gaze, from his kindness which was too much to accept. “I think I’m going to go. It's very late” You placed a couple of bills on the bar, waving goodbye to James and lifting your head up to look at Derek again.

“You’ll call a cab?” He checked, placing a hand on your shoulder as you stumbled your way off your chair.

“Course, babe” you smiled, too big to be fake. Nodding at him, you moved away, walking just close enough to kiss his cheek. Just close enough to get him off your back, and to walk out of the bar.

So that you could be unattainable again.

Going outside was relief, to feel the cool air on your skin, to ease the flame that was burning up your insides. That had been burning for far too long.

You tried to ignore the words swirling through your head, the voices that were so clear, the questions that were too much.

Derek, asking Spencer which girls he found most attractive. Who he’d like to take home.

You’d prefer to pretend that Spencer hadn't answered, that he hadn't drunk enough yet to answer a question like that.

Because you didn't want to know, you didn't want to hear, you didn't want to listen to questions like that if you knew the answer wasn't going to be you. You did not, you couldn't.

Because that ache in your soul, that ache that liked to run itself up and down your bones whenever you were with the one man that was unattainable to you. Because that feeling of despair and desperation, and hope. It was too much for any sane person.

Too much for you.

And you shouldn't be thinking of that right now. You should be getting your phone, calling a cab so that you could get home.

So that you could flush your system with whatever was left in your fridge, so that you didn't throw up right then and there because of those words.

So that you could breathe in the air again-

“Y/N!”

And so you didn't hear that voice behind you.

Slightly slurred.

And so that your body didn't stop involuntarily because you would wait for him always. Because you would stand with him forever.

Because of course you turned around.

“What’re you doing out here Spencer? It's cold,” You whispered as he approached you, a frown on his face while he shivered.

“I came to check on you,” He said, standing in front of you now, his words blowing in your face and confusing you completely.

Your brow furrowed as you looked down, rubbing your hands together.

Derek had already checked on you. Hadn't he told everyone what you’d said? That you were going home.

“I’m going home,” you whispered back, a cold smile on your lips as you looked back up at Spencer. That ache in your chest just too prominent for right now. His eyes just too much when it was so dark outside.

When the moon and the stars were watching the two of you like entertainment like they couldn't look away.

You were sure you’d had too much to drink.

That he was unattainable. That you were just thinking too much.

“I know,” He nodded. “Derek said, I just had to catch you before you left.”

His voice was too sweet just to walk away, and your eyes were locked on his again.

He was so much closer than you’d expected.

You took a nervous step back, laughing as you looked away. As you feigned being comfortable, and warm. “Why?” you asked, words making their way out of your mouth like concrete.

So heavy.

Spencer took a step towards you, not noticing how uncomfortable you were so close to him, how you wanted to reach out and grab him like he was an object. He clearly didn't know anything about being so close.

“I looked up a bunch of different ways to reach out to your friends,” he paused, looking up his cheeks suddenly flushed. “B-because I’ve noticed how different you’ve been acting recently. And I wanted to make sure that you’re okay, but I wasn't sure how without making you uncomfortable-”

Spencer laughed slightly while you looked at him confused. Your brain was closed off, and you couldn't be this close to him without your body igniting something you couldn't define.

Even just his voice was enough to make your body crumble, and you really shouldn't feel as vulnerable as you did, but your emotions were a steady line on a chart, going up up up.

And Spencer was unattainable and that was killing you.

From the inside out. Like a pathogen, like a virus taking over your cells. Love was going to kill you with its unattainable spark and taunting heart. You were going to die at the hands of someone so sweet, and so perfect.

And you were still listening.

“So I looked it up, but most of the answers involved bringing a gift basket or baked goods, which Garcia suggested actually when I talked to her. But- that, I um, didn't want to do that. It seemed…” he paused again, looking back at you with his perfect eyes. “Just not right,”

His smile was making you dizzy and your close proximity was making your heartburn. He was worlds away and right there.

Your eyes must have shown you confused because he sighed and didn't wait for an answer he was probably expecting.

“I’m just going to ask, so are you okay Y/N? Really?”

He was too kind to be talking to you, too sweet even when he was drunk and swaying on his feet. He was too tall to look up to and too pretty to stare.

“I’m fine,” you replied, nonchalantly because you wanted this conversation to be over. Because he was too much, just enough to kill you in this parking lot.

“You’re fine?” he asked, and you pretended not to hear the disbelief tinting his tone. The way he was staring at you.

“Yup,” you popped, looking away and not saying anything else. Not uttering another word.

“Are you sure?” he pressed, his voice soft and cautious but just enough to make the fear bubble up in your chest.

“I’m fine Spencer, just drunk. I’m going to call a cab.” you didn't snap, but you weren't being nice, and as soon as the words left your mouth you wanted to take them back. You wanted to take everything back and move away just so that you wouldn't have to feel like this anymore.

Just so you didn't have to look at him and know that no matter how much you might want it to, your heart wouldn't break because you couldn't have him.

There would be no physical scar left of him when he was gone.

“Y/N, what's going on? You’re not yourself. You can talk to me you know,”

See that was the thing about Spencer, even when you wanted him to leave, even at this moment when you just needed to be left alone to be alright, he wouldn't stop pushing. He wouldn't stop because he had to make sure you weren't lying, that he wasn't going to miss something.

He had to do this, for you.

It was the worst good thing about him.

“As I said, I’m drunk.” You turned away then, pulling your phone out of your pocket, and trying to click the buttons even though your hands were shaking.

He would never ever be yours, and love was going to poison you until you couldn't breathe.

He was unattainable. That was the saying.

“Y/N, will you talk to me? You can tell me what's going on, I’m here to listen.”

But he wasn't, he wasn't there, and he would never be yours. He would never love you like that, he was worlds away.

“I know, Spencer,” you sighed, turning towards him again, his warm hand on your arm far too powerful to resist, the words bubbling in your mouth too quick to keep in. “I wish you weren't so far away.”

It was a whisper, one so quiet he probably didn't hear. It wasn't that revealing, it wasn't too much, so you should be so worried that he would-

“What?” he asked, concern slipping it away through his face, your eyes tearing up. You were intoxicated, you were drunk, these tears shouldn't be falling out of your eyes, and you should be at home, you should leave.

“I think I’m in love with you,”

It was a fake statement, selfish and cowardly to say that you weren't sure, to only reveal some of yourself. It was fake and not true because you didn't just think. You knew.

But he didn't need to know that. He just needed to let you deal with heartbreak alone.

He was unattainable. Too much. So far away.

And he was asking again, trying to get you to clarify, to say it again, but you couldn't because this powerful thing, this love, you should have specified, was injecting itself into your heart again, and eventually, it would be so that you were free so that your blood would stop and you were gone, and the knowledge that you loved Spencer Reid would be stuck in your body forever.

How daring and cruel love was to you.

“You- what did you say?” Spencer asked, so confused for someone so smart. Smiling just as an intoxicated person should.

“We’re drunk, you should go back inside and get someone to take you home Spence. I need-” you took a deep breath, trying to get this poison out of your mouth. “I need to go home.

“You love me?” he asked.

So cliche and so quiet. And too much for your heart, and your body and all of the feeling inside your chest, and you should have left hours ago before you weren't smart enough to deal with this, and you should have just smiled, and you shouldn't have told him what you were thinking. You should have shut up before you got too ahead of yourself.

And you were so tired.

“I do,” you said, eyes blurry, face freezing, void of emotion.

And when Spencer kissed you, when he leaned down to place his lips on yours, when he was so close like this.

Poison was such sweet relief. Unattainable things were just so attractive, and the way he tasted was just so intoxicating.

It was almost sobering to feel his lips against yours. Almost a light in complete darkness to feel his hand making its way up to your neck, to feel the other cupping your frozen cheek.

It was so sweet to place your hands on his back, and in his hair, and to envelope yourself in his warmth. To be as close as you were.

Spencer Reid had kissed you and suddenly you couldn't think, and you didn't want to breathe, and he could poison and kill you a million times if you could just kiss him like this for just a few seconds longer.

What was pain when you were standing in the cold with someone like him?

With someone, you were sure you loved.

Love love love.

Was such a perfect poison, the sweetest pain. A marvelous heartbreak.

And it was so good to break away and laugh with someone so unattainable.

To kiss an unattainable person for the second time.

my masterlist here.

#spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds rp #criminal minds #criminal minds headcanons #derek morgan #spencer reid fan #spencer reid fanfiction #mgg x reader #mgg blurb #mgg fanfiction #mgg

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lumaejin · 3 years

Text

Your Highness | JJK

➳ Ship: Jungkook x Reader

➳ Genre: Fantasy AU. Prince!Jungkook x Warrior!Reader

➳ Word Count: 3.3k

➳ Rating: General Audiences (nothing mature/explicit)

➳ Summary: Your childhood best friend. The prince of your realm. One minute you were causing trouble together, the next he was... gone. But almost 100 years later, you finally see him again.

(banner made by me)

I lunged out with my wooden sword, the tip cutting through the dummy’s throat, sending its head flying. I smiled at my work, thinking about the possible praise I would get from my trainer. Someone started clapping from behind me.

“What are you doing here Jungkook?” I said, walking towards the decapitated head of the dummy and picking it up. With all my strength, I threw it across to the nearest bin.

“Well you know, escaping classes and what not,” he said. I rolled my eyes. Typical.

“You do know these will be important once you’re the emperor, right?”

“I still have ages until I have to worry about that. Besides, don’t you want to… you know, get out of here for a bit?” he asked, looking around at the old training arena, “It smells in here.”

“True that,” I said, contemplating his idea, “You know what… why not? BUT, I get shouted at for ‘being a bad influence to you’, you will not get off easily.”

“Sure,” he said, grinning mischievously.

“Now help me with tidying up.”

“That’s not fair! You made this mess!” he pouted. You stopped for a moment to admire his expression, before looking away.

“But you,” I said, dragging out the u, “want to get out of here quickly.”

He sighed, walking over towards the rest of the equipment, grabbing it, “I could always go without you, or with my hyungs, you know.”

“We both know you would never.”

[…]

As soon as the dummies had been thrown out and the area cleaned, we made our way towards the stables. Technically, Jungkook wasn’t supposed to be here, so we couldn’t just ask Hoseok for the horses like we normally would. Instead, Jungkook was going to saddle them secretly, while I went to distract Hobi.

“HEY! HOBI OPPA!” I yelled out, waving furiously at him. Jungkook had already snuck to the other side, entering the stable from the back door.

“Hey Y/N! What are you doing here?” he asked, smiling at me.

“Well, I was bored so I decided to come here.”

Walking towards a bench, I sat down, patting the spot next to me. Maybe I did feel a bit bad for lying to him, but that could be worried about later.

“Jungkook’s in class, right?” he asked.

“Yeah, his classes are getting longer and longer every day. So, what have you been doing?”

“Oh, not much, just this and that. Oh, we got a new horse, did I tell you?”

“You did? Is it a he or a she?” I asked, genuinely interested. Horses were beautiful creatures, especially the royal steeds.

“A she. Her name is Snowy and she’s beautiful! If you want, I can show you right now?”

Shit, no Hobi. I appreciate it but please don’t.

“Ugh, maybe another day? I’m sure she still has to get used to everything. Wouldn’t want to disturb her now, would we?” I said, mentally slapping myself. Couldn’t I have come up with something better? I glanced around, focusing on my peripheral vision. I couldn’t see Jungkook anywhere, so he was still inside. I sighed internally, couldn’t that boy hurry up?

“Ah no, she’s the sweetest. She gets along really well with the others, even with Flare and you know how she is.”

“Yeah. But just to be safe, you know.”

“Sure…” Hoseok narrowed his eyes at you, but you smiled.

“How did your training go?”

“The usual, Taehyung managed to land himself detention once again, and I stayed back a bit to practice after that.”

“What did he do this time?” Hoseok said, shaking his head, a smile on his lips.

I laughed, replaying the scene in my head, “Well, the usual prank. This time, it was on the assistant trainer. It was hilarious, but no one was dumb enough to laugh.”

The image of the assistant, covered from head to toe in paint, flashed in front of my mind and I bit back another laugh.

At that moment, I saw a figure waving out of the corner of my eyes. Jungkook. Mission accomplished.

“Anyway, it was nice chatting and all, but I have to get back to my grandmother now. Thank you! I’ll see whether I can stop by later?”

“Sure,” he said, as I ran off to the back of the stable, waving at him until I wasn’t in sight anymore.

“…TELL JUNGKOOK THAT HE CAN’T SKIP CLASS FOREVER!” I heard Hoseok shout after me. He must have seen me glancing at the stable doors every now and then. I grinned at his words and shook my head, yelling back “I WILL!”

A second later, I reached the edge of the forest, where Jungkook was waiting for me.

“I’m supposed to tell you, from Hobi oppa, that you can’t continue to skip class,” I said, taking the reins, which he held out towards me.

“You have to be more subtle next time. I mean, if Hobi hyung can pick up on it, then anyone could.”

“Stop complaining,” I said, playfully hitting him on the shoulder, “I’ve been doing the same thing for years, and Hobi oppa and the rest of your hyungs are the only ones who ever pick up on it. By the way, why did you take so long? What the hell were you doing in there?”

“It’s not my fault that Fire over here was trying to bite off my finger!”

“You should have let her, you know how much she likes eating human parts. It would have made her happy,” I said, giving him a smile.

“Don’t you worry about my happiness, woman?”

“Nope.”

[...]

A long ride and a few close encounters with castle guards later, the rushing sound of the waterfall could be heard. The forest was teeming with life, like it always was. Birds were chirping happily, the leaves were rustling and every now and then, I could hear the sound of animals rushing around between the bushes.

As we got closer, the water splashing was more and more obvious and the air started to feel more humid.

“Y/N, look!” Jungkook said.

I turned around to look in the direction he was pointing to find the trees clearing up, revealing the waterfall we had been looking for.

“Woah! It’s not changed at all since the last time we were here,” I said, gaping at the beautiful sight. The fog started to get thicker, but still, it was beautiful.

“What did you expect to happen, for it to suddenly turn red?”

“You never know. Maybe someday one of you magicians decide red fits the landscape more?”

We dismounted the horses, tying them to nearby trees. The closer we walked, the louder the sound of the rushing water became. At some point, it started to be close to deafening, but neither of us cared. We walked to the side of the curtain of water and over a bridge.

The water was splattering me everywhere, but I didn’t notice too much. We kept on walking and soon we had reached the opening to a few dark caves. I took a torch from the wall and held it up for Jungkook to light. Immediately, the rush of cold air greeted me, as we walked further in, but I ignored it. A few moments later, we had reached our destination.

With a flick of Jungkook’s wrist, the lights in the small cave turned on. They were glittering in every different colour, creating a rainbow effect on the walls. A heap of blankets and books were piled in the corner, just like we had last left them.

I went over to them, while Jungkook unpacked the food which we had bought in village. The delicious scent of baked goods immediately filled the cave and I sighed in content. Quickly arranging the blankets, I grabbed a croissant from the basket and sat down in the fluffy haven. Jungkook plopped down next to me and I leant my head on his shoulder as we munched the food.

“I read that earthlings do similar things. They sit on a checked blanket and eat food like we are now, but I heard they do it on meadows or in a forest instead,” he said, staring into the distance.

“That’s boring! Why don’t they find more exciting places?”

“Dunno, but I think it’s interesting that they don’t,” he said.

I laughed. This was typical Jungkook. There was a comfortable silence, as we were both lost in our own thoughts.

“Kookie, what do you think will happen in the future?”

He didn’t reply for a while, thinking it through. “I’ll become emperor… probably marry some stupid whore my father wants me to marry, and die at some point I guess and you...”

My heart stung a bit, but I already knew what he said was true. There was no way he would ever fall for me.

“…you’ll become the best Valkyrie in the realm I bet!”

“As if!”

“Well, even if you don’t, as soon as I have the power to, I’ll appoint you head of the royal guard. This way we’ll never be apart.”

My cheeks felt warm and I turned my head to look at him, to find his eyes already on me.

---

TIME SKIP

I watched the scene unfold from afar, standing in the shadows opposite the small café. There he was, wearing normal clothes and working at a normal job, smiling at and interacting with normal people. With earthlings. Yet, as much as it was weird to me, I couldn't help but be happy for him. This was what he had longed for so many years.

Before he was banished, Jungkook had always been curious about the earth. He would read about it, the way things worked or the way people behaved, and then go rant about it to me. He had told me about how he found it fascinating and that one day, he would see it with his own eyes, regardless of whether he had permission or not.

Therefore it hadn't surprised me at all when his hyungs had informed me of his banishment. That couldn't be said about the people of Yinshratha however. It was the only topic talked about for days. No one had believed it at first, because Jungkook's father, the emperor, had always made sure that he was known to be 'an exceptionally well-behaved boy'. Any time we had gotten ourselves in trouble, his involvement was always kept quiet.

As a result, it had been a great shock for most people to find that Jungkook, their prince and the successor to the throne, had been caught returning from the earth. Going there without permission was a major crime, which was punishable by death. Normally, the emperor would have just kept it quiet, resorting to giving his son house arrest instead, but unfortunately, many people had witnessed Jungkook being dragged towards the palace. There wasn't much of a choice for the emperor after that, but to banish him. I hadn't seen my best friend since.

100 years had passed now, and every day, I had missed him. I had thought multiple times of just going to earth to find him, but the last words I had said to him before his banishment prevented me from doing so, along with my responsibilities as a Valkyrie.

A year ago, the emperor had declared war to a neighbouring realm, underestimating their power completely. Half of his troops, including most of my comrades, had been killed in the last battle, leaving the emperor no choice but to look for reinforcements where ever he could find them, which meant looking for banished folk. I had already found nearly all of them, the only one left now was Jungkook.

I had always doubted whether he would return when he was called, but instead of dwelling on it too much, I had pushed it to the back of my mind instead, focusing on tracking and finding the others.

Yet, as I watched him go about his business, serving customers in a small café, these doubts resurfaced. He seemed so happy, making me wonder whether I should really bother him with the news of his old home. As soon as I had registered what I was contemplating though, I shook the thoughts out of my head and moved out of my hiding spot. It was 16:50 now and the shop would be closing soon. I had already wasted enough time.

Silently, I entered the small shop, joining the shrinking line. There were people chatting happily everywhere, most of them were holding a weird rectangular thing in their hands and moving their thumbs over it quickly. In fact, there were multiple tables where all the people who sat there didn't talk to each other at all and just stared at their rectangles instead. How weird.

I looked to the front, where Jungkook was currently serving another customer. He was as handsome as ever, with his forehead showing underneath his hair, and his charming smile. There was that feeling in my stomach again, almost as if it had never disappeared and always been there. I was getting distracted again.

The line moved again and a while later, I was at the front.

"Good afternoon miss. Welcome to our café, what would...?" he trailed off, staring at me with wide eyes, "Y/N? What are you doing here?"

I knelt down in front of the counter, "Your highness."

There was a lot I would have given not to do it, but Vakyries who didn't kneel were often punished and even though I knew that Jungkook would never do anything of the kind, there was no telling who was watching.

The people in the café looked at me weirdly, while Jungkook's eyes widened, quickly telling me that there was no need to bow. I stood up slowly, "I have been sent by his majesty, the emperor-"

"Let's not talk about this here. Come with me," he cut in quickly, before more people could overhear and question my sanity, "Sejin, can you cover for me?"

I walked behind the counter and followed him into a back room. He pressed something rectangular, causing the room to suddenly be lit. A small table, surrounded by a few sofas was placed in the middle of it and there was a fireplace on the wall before the small setup. Additional tables lined the wall. He turned towards me, leaning against one of them, and smiled cheekily, "Since when have you called me 'your highness'?"

"It is required of all Valkyries to call all members of the royal family -"

"I've told you before that even after you finish your training, that you won't have to do that. It already gets annoying enough when everyone else does it, there is no need for you to do it too."

"Yes, your highness, but it's been a while since we've last talked," I replied. My thoughts strayed once again to the day we had last seen each other and I cringed internally. Clearing my throat, I said, "His majesty, the emperor -"

"I hereby command you to drop the 'your highness' bullshit and all that formality," he said, making me sigh with relief, "Now before you go on again about-" he imitated my voice in a ridiculous manner, for which I almost hit him with my bag and stopping myself at the very last second, " 'his majesty, the emperor-' I wanted to catch up. What have you been doing? How are you doing?"

"Jungkook, I- oh shut up," I said at his smirk. Only then realising what had slipped out, I quickly covered my mouth. 'Shut up' was not something I was allowed to say to the prince.

He laughed at my gesture, shaking his head, "Seriously, you've changed. When have you ever cared about this stuff? You used to hit me with a ruler and tell me to shut up for no apparent reason all the time."

"I was a kid back then! And you definitely deserved it. Your status was really getting to you," I said, smiling feebly at the old memories of us running through the beautiful meadows and laughing. Immediately, an image of the battle flashed before me, making me drop it instantly.

"Jungkook, listen. I was sent here to inform you that your banishment has been lifted," I said, " His majesty declared war to Hanashem and unfortunately, their forces are stronger than was anticipated. He sent all of the elites in, but- but most of us didn't make it. He's afraid of losing this war, with the majority of us gone." The images of the battle scene were there again, haunting me as they had done in the past few weeks.

"He...what?" Jungkook said, his voice laced with hatred, "How could he have been so careless to send you in? And what the hell happened to the 'realm of peace'."

"Please Jungkook, I know you hate him, but the realm needs you. Your hyungs need you. I need you," I pleaded, images of my dead comrades were now flashing before my eyes, "Please. Please come back."

The next thing I knew, arms were wrapping themselves around me, enclosing me in a comforting hug. Butterflies were gathering themselves in my stomach again, but I ignored them, subconsciously leaning into the embrace, forgetting the principles which had been drilled into me completely and any will that I had had in the last few years to get over Jungkook.

"Of course I'll come," I heard him whisper as he stroked my hair softly, "It's going to be okay."

We stayed like that for a while until he spoke again, "There's something that I've been meaning to talk to you about."

He pulled away, looking me in the eye. I had an inkling of what he wanted to say. This was something I had been dreading for a while. I had kept the thought at the very back of my mind, but it was always there.

"Did you mean what you said to me in the last few moments before I was banished?"

There it was. The words I had dreaded. If I told him the truth, would it affect his behaviour around me? I knew it would because there was no way he felt the same. I was just his best friend, nothing more.

But I couldn't lie to him: he always knew when I wasn't telling the truth, not to mention, however close we had once been, I would be lying to the prince, a member of the royal family, which was something not to be done.

I hesitated, avoiding his gaze, before bringing the words out, "I did."

"Do you still feel that way?"

"It doesn't matter, I-"

"Do you?" he persisted.

I sighed heavily, "I do, but I can get over it. I -"

But I never got to finish my sentence. I felt his lips moving against mine, carefully but passionately at the same time. My heart pounded loudly in my chest and I felt my knees going weaker and weaker. Heat rose from my stomach upwards and I felt the butterflies fluttering around. Was this a dream? If it was, it was one I didn't want to wake up from.

As we pulled apart, both gasping for breath, I could only stare at him, wide-eyed.

"Did you expect me not to fall for you when you were, and still are, so perfect all the time?" he whispered.

A/N: This was written a long time ago on wattpad. I like to think that my writing’s evolved since then, which is why I will make time to edit in sometime in the near future.

#jeon jungkook #jeon jungkook fanfic #jjk #jeongguk #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #bts jungkook #bts j-hope #jung hoseok #childhood best friend #friends to lovers #prince!jungkook #writing

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blueberrywonho · 3 years

Note

hi love! could I request and imagine for minhyuk where his s/o has an astma attack I have bad astma so this could make me feel better lol ty!

Notes from the author: "I couldn't imagine having to deal with something like this so I'm hoping this helps. Asthma can be scary to deal with so I am sending you all the positive health vibes I've got!"

Partner Has An Asthma Attack

Minhyuk POV

The sun felt agonizingly hot against the bare skin on your shoulders as you climbed up the hill. You internally scolded yourself for picking one of the hottest days of summer to bring Minhyuk to the zoo but he didn't have much time off before needing to head back to Korea. Comeback prep was starting for him next week and once that began it would be almost impossible to get this time alone with him. He was several paces ahead of you, stopping by every animal with the biggest smile on his face. The Aquatic Exhibit sign popped up as you reached the pale blue building. You'd been at the zoo for nearly an hour surveying other animals but you knew deep down that this was what he had been waiting for.

You felt a slight pressure in your chest and put a hand near your heartbeat. "It's fine," you quote breathlessly. You continue towards the building and tell yourself you were probably just exhausted from the hill. Minhyuk is already at the door showing his ticket and you can't help but grin at his excitement. As you approach the doors he turns to you with eyes gleaming and a smile you couldn't get enough of.

"They have a dolphin show starting in 15 minutes and their whale exhibit is towards the end of the route. Do you wanna see the show?" The look on his face was so precious you couldn't have said no if you wanted to.

You make your way into the building and are greeted by cool air. You sigh in relief as Minhyuk grabs your hand and guides you towards the red double doors that lead into the Dolphin Show. Once entering the stadium you're hit with the opposite effect as the general building. The stadium is warm, humid, and the air feels sticky. You take a deep breath and feel a slight twinge of panic realizing it's difficult to do so. "I just need to sit down," you say in your head. A woman in a blue shirt with the company logo is waiting at the seating entrance and points to a cubby display where bags, purses, and other large carry ons are loaded.

"Good afternoon! Go ahead and place your bags in an empty cubby and you can retrieve them after the show. Feel free to keep cell phones and cameras on your person but no flash photography is allowed during the show. Enjoy guys!" Minhyuk takes both of your bags and places them in the nearest empty cubby. Stepping into the seating area you can feel the muggy air all around you. Minhyuk chooses a seat closest to the front with yellow chairs that say SPLASH ZONE along the backs. A gentleman near the front hands you both a disposable hooded jacket to protect you from most of the water. Minhyuk takes a seat and grins while looking around the stadium, eager for it to start.

He begins chatting about what he hopes to see but you can barely pay attention. You clutch your knees and try to regain control of your breathing. The tightness in your chest is growing and it feels like your airway has shrunken in size. You close your eyes and beg your body to fix itself. "Please stop, please stop-" but it doesn't stop. You let out a weeze and struggle to take a deep breathe. Suddenly a hand appears on your shoulder.

"Hey! Hey, what's wrong-" When you don't respond Minhyuk steps in front of you, kneeling. He takes your face in both hands and the worried look in his eyes is prominent. "Hey, look at me. Can you breathe?"

As tears well up in your eyes you shake your head quickly. His own eyes widen and he bolts for the entrance. You're becoming aware of the people around you staring and your heartbeat quickens. You close your eyes and wheeze out a strangled breath, trying to calm your anxious mind. This wasn't supposed to happen. This day was supposed to be about him. How much more embarrassing could this get? Your thoughts are interrupted by the sensation of plastic being pressed against your lips. You open your eyes to find Minhyuk and 2 members of the Aquatic staff standing in front of you. Minhyuk is knelt in front of you like before, eyes filled with both worry and focus.

"Here baby. It's alright. Open your mouth," You do as he says and allow the medication to fill your lungs as you take a deep breath. You exhale forcefully and take another breathe with the inhaler, this time with easier effort. You exhale deeply and close your eyes as you realize you can breathe again.

Minhyuk takes one hand to caress the back of your head while the other holds onto the hand where you're clutching your inhaler. After a few deep breathes you open your ears and remember the crowd of people staring at you, wondering what's going on. All too familiar with this feeling, Minhyuk helps you to your feet and leads you towards the general buildings entrance.

As he guides you back into the cool conditioned air you both stop at a nearby bench. After assuring the Aquatic staff that all is well they venture into the Dolphin Show room and close the doors. You can hear the music start and know the show is about to begin.

"You're going to miss the show. I'm fine now. We should head back inside-" but you pause as Minhyuk shakes his head back and forth.

"You should have told me you were struggling. I had no idea. Are you okay?" He tightens his hold on your hand and you smile softly.

"I'm okay, really. I started having some trouble after climbing that hill and I should have stopped myself then-" you stop mid sentence again as his expression changes from worry to extreme sadness. He covers his mouth with his hand and sighs deeply.

"I wasn't even paying attention to you. I was so excited to be out and to be with you and to see the show and I just..." Minhyuk stops and stares at the ground. You squeeze his hand and reach over to tilt his face towards yours. You kiss his cheek softly and sigh deeply.

"You have nothing to apologize for. You can't keep your eyes on me at all times. I know how excited you were for today. We don't get many days like this and I wanted nothing to spoil it, including this stupid asthma." You nudge your shoulder against his playfully and continue, "We still have time to see the whales before we head back".

His grin returns softly and he turns to face you, a glaze in his eyes. He reaches forward and kisses your lips and afterwards places an extra on your forehead. You stand up and chuckle to yourself.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing. It's just that, out of everything that's happened so far today, that kiss was the thing that took my breath away the most".

(It was in this moment that Minhyuk walked away from your cheesey ass but still loved you with all of his heart).

#monsta x #monsta x minhyuk #minhyuk x reader #minhyuk boyfriend #minhyuk smut #minhyuk scenarios #wonho #monbebe #monbebes #kpop #jooheon #kihyun #joohoney #minhyuk #shownu #changkyun #hyungwon #wenee

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mandalorewhore · 3 years

Text

Two Steps Ahead

PART THREE OF HUNTER (formerly hunter and prey)

gif by @princessxkenobi

Rating: Explicit Content Warnings: SMUT, Fighting as Foreplay, Rough Sex, Penetrative Sex(PIV), Unprotected Sex, Dirty talk, Praise kink, Size kink, Big Dick Mando, Top Mando, Sub/Dom elements, Very slight Pain Kink, possible CNC elements although I didn’t write that I also want to warn anyone who doesn’t want to read about rough sex with physical fighting as foreplay Words: 6.9k AO3 LINK

Summary: Reader and Mando start tracking their first bounty together

A/N: i believe things are happening...interesting

***

“I feel like you have a distinct advantage here.” A bead of sweat drips over your brow as you mop at your sweltering forehead in irritation. Your temple throbs as you press on it, pain shooting down your neck at the pressure.

It’s so fucking humid here. You’re tracking one of Mando’s bail jumpers in the middle of a boggy swamp planet that you never caught the name of and you’ve been walking through the forest for at least 24 hours, only stopping for water and ration breaks. Based on the holo-map you’re currently staring at, this entire planet is one big swamp, with no escape from the damp, sticky environment.

The thing barely makes sense, a jumble of colors and shapes that worsens your headache the longer you try to figure it out. You had borrowed a thin shirt from Mando before setting out, but it does little to protect you from the buzzing swarms of insects, while at the same time it reflects just enough heat to have you sweltering.

Mando acts unbothered under all that padding and armor, trekking through the trees without any visible sign of struggle. You don’t understand how he can stay awake for so long without caf, yourself being covered in caf-patches to keep from passing out. It’s probably somewhat dangerous to have so much of the stimulant coursing through your veins, but oh well. If my heart gives out then at least I’ll escape the bugs.

“Footprints aren’t the only way to track a quarry.” He returns mildly, moving swiftly over tangled tree-roots to avoid the pools of murky water that litter the forest floor. You move with less grace behind him, trying to climb slippery wood and juggle the holo at the same time. The twisted trees of this planet seem to reach inward to point at the forest floor, giving you the impression of being trapped within their clutches. The eerie feeling isn’t helped by the distinct lack of light, odd lichen tendrils drape between branches to create a blanket that absorbs most natural light from the sky. A faint glow emanates from the tendrils, basking the forest with ghostly illumination. You scramble to the top of the particularly tall root he’s perched on then plop down to catch your breath.

“No, it’s not the only way,” you pause to take a swig from your water skin, dabbing off the spilled drops from your chin with your sleeve, “but the footprints you track are apparently all glowy and red. I get to look with my naked eyes for shit like depressions in the ground, which is so fun considering the only paths here are solid wood.”

Mando rolls his helmet on his shoulders, the effect similar to someone rolling their eyes. When he speaks it’s short and gruff, annoyed by your attitude. Which is… appropriate. The hours you’ve spent walking in this heat together is starting to snap both of your tempers. “Stop complaining.”

He’s not wrong about the footprints. You’re mostly annoyed because of how useless you feel, more like you’re tagging along than assisting him on the hunt. Drawing your eyebrows together you try to come up with a plan. Most of those mercenary skills you talked up for Karga don’t apply here, this naturalistic setting is too messy and... wild. Unpredictable. You’re used to the structure that comes with starships and cities, places engineered and civilized.

Tracking people isn’t very hard, you’ve done it plenty of times before. The only issue is that all of your practice came from environments where they left clear signs of direction, displaced gravel indicating a shoe-print, broken branches, a trail in sand. It also helps that your targets didn’t know they were being stalked. The only path here is over hard wooden tree roots, with nothing to indicate direction, not even moss grows over the foot trail for traveling feet to mark. You take in a deep breath and hold it for several seconds before letting out all your air in one huge swoop.

“I’m sorry, “ you tell him sincerely, “I want to help you -and not just for a bigger cut. Is there anything I can do?” You truly do feel bad for snapping at him even if you know you’re right about his advantage. Just because you don’t have fancy thermal settings and footprint tracking doesn’t mean you’re useless. The Mandalorian settles his hands on his hips and surveys the area, looking for a task to assign you. His helmet tilts up and lingers on the trees, and you’re already two steps ahead before he can voice his idea.

“I can climb,” you interject, standing up swiftly and moving. “Trees can’t be more slippery than a spacecraft.”

He nods in acknowledgment. “Find something and your cut goes up by five percent.”

“Ten percent.” You grin at him cheekily, wanting to tease him even if he won’t give it to you.

“Eight, if you find somewhere to camp.”

“Deal.” You return, already halfway to the widest tree you can reach without getting your feet wet. The trunk is covered in knots and twisted vines, ugly but providing fantastic handholds for your hands and feet. Grabbing hold of a sturdy looking ledge you begin your ascent.

The climb is fairly easy even with the woods damp surface, and you reach the forest canopy with minimal effort. Carefully squirreling around the thin top-most branches you attempt to find a break-through point, the wood beneath you bowing a little from your weight.

When you finally poke your head through and see the sky you gasp, taken aback by the sight. You hadn’t hung around in the cockpit during landing, instead choosing to pack the bags while Mando skillfully piloted his ship. The forest floor is all you’ve seen of the planet and apparently you’ve missed a lot.

The sky here is beautiful, a color palette that is completely opposite from the dark, damp underbelly of the forest ground. Swirling aquamarine clouds float lazily in the sky, speckling the orange hued atmosphere above you. There are at least 6 pale moons lined up on the horizon from edge to edge, stars twinkling around each orb as if drawn to their orbit. You drink in the sight greedily, the ache in your head lessening in the natural light. This is so much better than the cold stark metal of space stations that you’re used to living on.

It’s hard to tell the time based on the sky alone, the moons must be constantly present in the sky no matter the time of day and you can’t find a single sun. Maybe this planet lives off the light and heat from each moon, reflected from a distant star? The thought is lovely but you don’t think it’s possible. You file the image away for your daydreams then divert your eyes back to the thick forest, searching for anything useful to tell Mando.

The line of trees is unbroken, a sea of dark green leaves and glowing lichen. An orange sky helps to warm up the pale glow from the lichen but it’s eeriness still sends a shiver through you. Everything on the horizon is of even height, betraying nothing within its depths. It isn’t ideal. You gnaw your lip anxiously, dreading to return to Mando without any information especially on your first hunt together. Eyes flitting around desperately, you try to analyze any possible breaks in the natural pattern of trees.

Could that be a settlement there? You think, looking at a slightly thinner section of forest that might roughly be three miles away. You aren’t sure about the planet’s curvature and how flat the terrain is so you double check the holo, looking for the information.

Something catches your eye as you’re pulling up the data, just substantial enough in your peripheral version that you stop what you’re doing. There is a mist rising from that thinned area, far enough away that you mistook it as some sort of lighting effect from the overwhelming color palette here. That has to be steam right? It’s too thick to be naturally occurring from the bog. There must be machinery over there. A settlement hopefully.

You’re about to climb down when you pause, looking at the still lit holo with renewed curiosity. Something about the map visually paired with your clear view of the forest allows the pieces to fall in place. When you compare the shape of the map to the trees you’re finally able to make sense of what you previously thought was a topographical mess. A built pathway lies here, a body of water there. And clearings. Several clearings not too far from where you are now, the perfect size to settle down in. Hopefully they’re dry.

Either the caf-patches are finally sending you into cardiac arrest or you’re manically happy to finally be of help to your hunting partner, but either way, you’re grinning so widely that your teeth clatter together.

“Hey Mando! Guess what you owe me?” You shout down at the ground, beginning to descend. You’re so excited that you practically slide down the vines, jumping to the ground when you’re several feet high in the air, sore muscles creaking at the impact. The Mandalorian is sitting now, resting with his elbow propped on his knee while he waited for you to come back. There’s a soft pang in your chest and you wonder if he’s tired. You brush it off, feeling as though you’re just projecting, and instead grin widely at him in triumph. “7 percent increase for me!”

He lifts his helmet and looks you up and down. “What did you find?”

You reply chirpily, hands grasped behind your back and shit-eating grin still plastered on your face. “There is a settlement of some kind roughly three miles that way,” you point in the direction where you saw the steam, “and several clearings nearby suitable to camp in, if we don’t want to head in right away. Oh, also we aren’t on the actual path used by locals here, the asset must be making an effort to hide.”

“That isn’t very smart of them,” Din observes, shaking his head at the concept. “Busy path hides more prints.”

“Hm…” You take that in, wondering what other techniques a quarry may use to shake its hunter.

It occurs to you that there is a lot you could learn from the Mandalorian, since so far hunting someone has been notably different from your mercenary missions. You’ll find a moment to ask questions later once you’re settled down for the night, wherever that’ll be. “Do you want to camp or find the maybe-settlement?”

“We should camp,” he responds immediately, rising from his seated position and walking closer to you, “we don’t know what we’ll face there. You can choose the area, since you climbed the tree.”

You pull up the holo-map again and zoom in on the different options, feeling far more energized now that you actually know what you’re doing. There are two spots that seem encouraging, both a short hike away from where you are now but removed enough to grant you some privacy. You’ll still need to set up a watch to prevent ambush or stray travelers from finding you but it’ll be easier if you make an effort to hide. One of the clearings seems to have a running water source, you hope it’s cleaner than the still-water you’re currently surrounded by. Maybe you can bathe there too.

“Lets go here,” you pull up the coordinates for Mando, “that looks like a stream, right?”

He leans into your body for a closer look, broad chest just brushing against you in a way that sends flutters through your tummy. You know he can zoom in with his visor, there is no reason he needs to be so close to you except for your benefit. He seems to enjoy messing with you like this, throwing you off with unexpected touches, looks, and gestures. It’s like a game he plays and you’d be far more annoyed by his teases if it wasn’t so exciting.

“Looks good,” he rumbles low in his chest. “Fresh water would be nice.”

Your heart quickens, but you tried to hide your reaction by teasing him back, tapping your fingers on his helm and stepping away. “I was hoping to clean myself up, actually…”

Mando straightens up at this, visor locked on your face.

“Lead the way.” He returns quietly, giving away nothing. Trying not to smile, you start off in the direction of the clearing, for once moving faster than your armored companion.

Your goal isn’t very far, only about 3 miles north of your previous position and a mile adjacent to the settlement you’ll pay a visit to tomorrow. Large, fuzzy fronds of an alien fern droop down the sides of the hollow clearing, providing a barrier between the forest and empty space in between. The trees still tangle above the open area, blocking out part of the beautiful sky, save a few of the large moons, and old pieces of charcoal are ground into the sandy earth here, a sight that makes you a little anxious. This spot must be used by others, you’ll have to be more careful with setting up the watch than expected.

The water source turns out to be a small spring set on the edge of a cliff at the far end of the clearing, a sizable waterfall cascading down the side and gathering in a crystalline pool. Skipping ahead of Mando to the edge of the pool you crouch and dip your fingers in the cool water, sighing in relief as it relieves some of the warmth in your overheated body.

You’re unable to hear Mando’s approach - how he is so stealthy under 50 pounds of metal escapes you, but you feel him behind you. You smirk. Arching your back as you rise, you turn around slowly and begin to make eyes in his direction however, when you actually see what he's doing, you cringe at yourself in embarrassment. He’s not looking like you assumed, instead he is surveying the clearing skeptically, body-language imbued with disapproval. Your heart simultaneously sinks to your stomach and contracts in frustration. You thought you had finally done something right.

“What? Is something wrong?” You ask him tightly, subtly shrinking in on yourself in disappointment. You try to hide this by fiddling idly with a stray thread on your tunic, stubbornly keeping your head lifted high despite wishing you could disappear. He doesn’t respond right away, instead turning and walking the length of the clearing then back, stopping just in front of you sharply. You meet his visor with your eyes, holding the look until you feel like you’re burning up in shame from the pressure of it.

“It’s too… open,” he finally says, voice halting as he tries to find the correct words. “Anyone could walk into our camp.”

“I figured we’d set up a watch. There’s only one entrance-”

He interrupts you. “One ground entrance. Anyone can climb down from the trees.”

“Maybe, but this planet isn’t supposed to be dangerous, is it? Practically abandoned,” You huff out, fists clenching at your sides as you argue with him. “Besides. It’s… pretty here.”

The Mandalorian sighs, pinching the helmet just below the visor where his nose bridge would be. “Fine. I’ll take the first watch. No fire.”

Nodding in response, you cross the clearing and set your bag down on a log, letting out a sigh in relief. That’s fine by you, you don’t need the extra warmth and the glowing lichen provides enough light to get by. You really did not want to hike again after moving for 24 hours straight. Mando mirrors your movements, leaning his rifle next to your pack before settling on the sandy earth. A loaded pause passes between you, earlier implications at the forefront of your minds.

Letting out a shuddering breath you crouch down and pull your old tunic from your bag, slinging it over your shoulder before making your way back to the small pond. The water is completely clear, an inviting sight after the marshy puddles that made up the forest ground on your way here. You’re facing the water now but you’re still well aware of the man behind you, the intensity of his gaze burning even through the impassive visor. The invitation is clear. Take it off.

But you aren’t sure if you want to give him that yet. The exhaustion from today has wrung you dry, small bickerings between you and your work partner dampening the sweet mood leftover from Nevarro. Apologizing with sex isn’t really your thing. You’d rather stoke the mutual respect between you as allies instead of start up a pattern of fighting then making up.

You crouch at the water's edge, peering into the depths for a moment before splashing your face with cold water, fresh scar throbbing as blood rushes to the surface of your face. The spare tunic you grabbed just brushes the surface of the water, sending ripples throughout your reflection. Curious, you lean over and observe the way the mirror-like pond breaks off into fragments, bits of you here and there mixing in with the moons that lay on russet sky.

Like a painting. You think in awe, having only seen a couple of the artifacts in person. The richest target you were assigned to owned two pieces of art, real paintings on real paper, encased in transparisteel viewing cases before you smashed open the backing to wonder at them. You close your eyes and try to recall the texture of the paint before the rest of your memory catches up and sours the whole thing. The man's home had to be burned in order to erase evidence, his paintings too large to smuggle out of the city.

When you open your eyes the pond has settled with your reflection only- you’re not alone.

“Maker!” You jump at the sight of the Mandalorians gleaming helmet appearing in the reflection. “What the fuck, you sneak.”

He just chuckles in response and offers you a hand, which you take firmly while rolling your eyes and standing. He leads you back to sit with him on the sandy earth, taking ration bars out of his pack- not yours, and breaking them evenly between you. The gesture is surprisingly tender and none too appreciated what with your stomach growling audibly at the bland meal. All at once, you are reminded by the spattering of caf-patches on your limbs, the jitteriness becoming more apparent now that you’re finally still. You’re shaking. Mando notices as well.

“You may explode.” He remarks, prompting you to start pulling off the stimulant, crumpling each piece and setting them neatly in a pile at your knee.

“Good, let me explode. You’re too bossy to work with.” You return with a smirk, hoping your sarcasm lands. He hums in response, pulling one of the patches off of your forearm and flicking it in your direction for you to catch.

Tutting, you roll the patch into a ball and set it at the top of your pile. “Don’t leave a mess, this forest is ugly but at least it’s untouched,” you tell him firmly. Mando just nods.

The ration bars are hardly a delicacy but you shove them in your mouth all the same, appreciating the engineering behind them. They are so calorie rich that a piece the size of your palm can keep you going for hours. However, your body can’t seem to relax despite the food lining your belly- perhaps you actually overdid the caf. You should be tired right now. Staying awake for more than a day isn’t exactly the average schedule but your knee bounces uncontrollably in a frantic pattern, stirring up puffs of sand between you and the warrior.

“You need to tire.” Mando mutters, firmly placing a glove on your thigh and holding the limb down. “Stop that.”

“Sorry,” you reply, trying to freeze yourself and sit as still as he does. Mando always exists so sagely, like a monk. Completely calm when he wants to be before exploding into action, no warm-up necessary. You wonder if he had some sort of meditation training to achieve that. Is that why he sits like that in the cockpit, his back rod straight like a statue? Weirdo.

“Hey…” The palm at your thigh presses again and you suck in a sharp breath. You didn’t even realize you were twitching again. “Do I have to hold you down?” He growls.

You gulp. “Tempting. But no.” Your words come out steadier than you feel. The caf becomes all too much in that moment so you lurch to your feet, his gleaming helmet following your body as it rises jerkily. You feel far too energetic, needing to get the energy out somehow so you can finally pass out. Your idea leaves your mouth before you can truly think it over.

“Wanna fight?”

“...What?” Mando sounds truly surprised even if his body betrays nothing.

“You heard me,” you’re bouncing on the balls of your feet, swaying back and forth like a green sailor on the oceans of Mon Cala. “Let's practice our combat, I rarely get to do that.”

He’s standing before you can blink causing you to jerk back, startled by his speed. The Mandalorian poses right in front of you, too close to not be a challenge with his weight settled on one leg breezily.

“Okay. Hit me.”

What a taunting mother fu- You swing your left hand out as if aiming for the unarmored spot on his ribs, which he blocks with ease… leaving his throat open for your right fist to sharply jab.

The bounty hunter doubles over, coughing and clutching his neck with one hand.

“O-Oh shit! I’m sorry, I- I didn’t mean, let me-” You scramble with lost movements, trying and failing to help him straighten upright. It leaves you awkwardly placing your palms on his back while the crown of his helmet presses into your belly. “I, um… Mando?”

His arms wrap around your middle in a flash, pulling you tightly against his chest and throwing both your bodies to the ground. It happens so fast that you can’t even shriek before the air is knocked out of you, hitting the sand hard enough to throw it into the air around you. Gasping, you smack full force at the Mandalorian on top of you, his arms still crushing you against him while your legs lock straight together with his knees on either side. It’s sexy, but you’d really like to breathe. He lets up just barely.

“Nice punch,” he rasps, throat clearly affected by the hit. “Don’t think I’ll hold back after that though.”

“Don’t… want… you to…” You shoot back at him, sharp as you can manage while wheezing. Mandos visor raises ever so slowly and pins you, hidden eyes holding you down more effectively than his body. After a drawn out moment of this, your head spinning as you calculate your escape strategy, he crawls up your body to prop himself above you, locking your wrists in one large hand with the other presses against your chest, shoving your back into the earth. It is just enough pressure to squeeze some air out of your lungs and it is then when you know he isn’t kidding about not holding back.

You’re so fucking happy that he isn’t letting you win.

In other instances, you’d panic at the hopeless feeling of being trapped like this, by someone twice your size and clad in the galaxy’s most powerful steel. But the way he spars with you now, full force and not playing easy... it has implied respect for your skill. He knows you can fight and doesn’t spare you the opportunity to prove it.

Only a second or two has passed since he fully immobilized you and you’re still locked in your flattened position. When he motions to stand, pulling your wrists as if to drag you, you know you must make your move now or it will be too late. The only spot he has open on his body right now is… well, right between his legs. The first thing a smaller fighter learns about combating larger foes is to fight dirty and there is no reason you should hold back if Mando isn’t. Your legs had been pinned tightly together before he moved to drag you but now there is just enough room to swing a knee up and hit him between the legs.

Mando doesn’t wear a full codpiece but luckily for you, the padding on his groin isn’t enough to block your kick. A choked sound rips out of his throat and he falls to one knee, the fingers encircling your wrists loosening slightly while he struggles to fight his body’s natural pain response. You wrench one hand free and use it to grip his cowled neckline, planting your feet against his cuirass and swinging yourself into a hanging position before his grip tightens again. He's steady but you try to dig your feet in to throw him forward, hoping to twist around and land on his back with his face down. He totters for one frozen second, both your bodies on the precipice of falling but unfortunately, he manages to wrench himself backwards and land heavily on his back with you on top.

You’re both gasping and groaning at the shock of hitting the ground so hard, and for one breathless moment all you do is stare heatedly at each other on the forest floor, eyes locking through his visor and somehow you know he is grinning.

His smile mirrors on your face when you feel his hands rip at your clothes, wrenching the thin pants off of you down to your thighs forcefully enough to knock your legs together with a dull thud.

“Did I not just kick you in the dick, Mando?” You laugh, working at his belt at the same time. He palms your ass through your underwear greedily, squeezing so hard that you know finger shaped bruises will blossom there.

“You missed.”

“Must’ve hurt either way…” You mutter, finally managing to reach under his thick layers and wrap your hand around his length, producing a low growl from the man beneath you. “Maybe, it's good I missed.”

The only response you get is his hands pulling both your hands to lay on his chest plate then traveling back down your body to tug aside your underwear and grind you down onto his hips, rubbing your now bare slit against his bulge. You vaguely remember deciding against coming onto him as a form of apology, but for some reason, since he started first that all ceases to matter. It feels like a game you’ve begun to play with each other, playing with the tension between you and the Mandalorian until you find out what breaks your resolve. Maybe it started even before you entered this forest, perhaps back on Nevarro or even on the station.

You can’t tell but you don’t want to question it either.

A moan falls from your throat, your hands moving on their own volition to try and remove his belt entirely, or at least enough to pull his cock out. Mando’s glove flashes up again to circle your wrists, immobilizing them and harshly pinning you down with his vambrace lain across your back.

“You yield?” He asks, voice dripping with a sickly triumph. A chill runs down your back and you feel as if he just dunked you into the pond.

“W-What?”

“You yield… I win?”

“Wha- No!” You cry out indignantly, struggling against his iron grip. “I didn’t realize we were still sparring!”

He laughs, fully bodied and dark with some emotion that swirls deep within your core, and you can’t put your finger on it exactly but you know you’ll have to do something before you’re swept up entirely. “Oh, but we are. What shall the winner gain?” He asks, so quietly that it is almost lost in the warped modulator, barely a question and more so a crackling of static.

Fuck, you’re so wet.

You lick your lips and shakily respond. “I am not one to give up, however-”

“Then don’t. Keep fighting.”

Oh, and you love what he implies. There is no reason to argue further and less time to act, so you immediately struggle hard with the upper half of your body, wrenching your wrists to try and distract him from the way your legs are free to swing into his ribs. But Mando doesn’t fall for your feint a second time. In fact, he seems to have expected it, his leg is more than prepared to hook around the back of your knees and hold you against his body, rolling to the side to throw you underneath him.

You’re pinned on your back with nearly his full weight, unable to do more than weakly punch at what you can reach- unfortunately for you all you can reach is armor. Your cry of anger is cut short when Mando flips onto your front, your chest pressed roughly to the floor of the forest.

The helmet appears over your shoulder, his ragged breathing right by your ear. “T-This okay? You want this?” You can’t find your words to respond with the way you're held so tightly against the earth, so you nod as best you can with one cheek pressed into the ground. Mando snarls something furiously, one hand leaving your back to fumble with his pants and pull his cock out, lining himself up at your soaking entrance and running the head through your folds.

His helmet drops back down to your shoulder, the visor turning and burying itself into the line of your neck and you know that if he weren’t bound by his creed then he would be kissing dark bruises there.

“You know this means I win,” he hisses, pressing his cock to breach your tight opening ever so slightly.

“I-I know.” You whimper weakly.

With that, he fully pushes himself into you and if you weren’t so wet you know his size would be unbearably painful. Instead, the stretch is pure bliss, a slow burning sensation that has a hint of sting to it, his dominance lending to complete submission and all you can do is lay there and take it. There is still the strain you grew to know from when he allowed you to use his body on Nevarro, but something about Mando topping you encourages you to open yourself for him with more ease.

He quickly bottoms out then holds himself till, allowing you to adjust to his size. You’re writhing as much as possible under the way he crushes you to the floor, knees carving grooves in the soft sandy earth.

“Fuck,” Mando grits, teeth clenched together so hard that you swear you can hear the grinding in his jaw. “You’re so fucking tight, fuck.”

The position is hard to maintain on the soft ground, his hands keep sliding ever so slightly on either side of you forcing him to adjust every few seconds. His patience breaks after the third time this happens, a growl crackling through the helmet as he settles his hands on your lower back and hoists his body up, knees planted on either side of your thighs, crushing them together with intense pressure on your clit. Your body is locked tight, pussy clenching harder around his cock when he rises into an upright position.

You let out a genuine scream when he draws back then thrusts sharply into you, pain mixing with pleasure in a manner far more biting than on his ship, when he had let you take control entirely, never even doing so much as to thrust into you. It is almost too much for you but even while you struggle to take his cock, you don’t dare tell him to stop, nor do you want him to stop. You’re so blinded by the stretch that you don’t realize he is speaking until you miss several, distorted words.

“Fuck, why did I wait, why did I wait? I should’ve fuck-fucked you back on the station, approached you in that hangar and made myself fucking clear-” Each gritted word is accentuated by a mean thrust, his dick is so big that he has to shove himself inside of you rather than glide, breaking you open in a way that burns so sweetly. Your legs are held together, knees locked and straight, which doesn’t help how tight you are but you can’t budge at all to open yourself to Mando, his hands pressing down at your lower back so heavily that you’re short of breath.

A garbled moan is forced out of you when Mando grinds his length into your pussy as deep as he can possibly reach, hips smashing against your ass while he pulses inside of you and for a second you think he's cumming. But no- he draws himself from your depths and starts to rut his cock between your cheeks, head resting on your upper back and hands by your head.

A powerful hand wraps under your side and settles at your sternum, pulling you back against his cuirass and lifting so that you end up seated together, fitting against him without even an inch of space between your bodies. His hand lifts your hips, other appendage snaking around to position his cock back at your entrance before allowing gravity to do the work, your legs spreading to rest on either side of his thighs as you sink down on him to the hilt.

Once settled, Mando starts to work you on his cock, lifting you like you weigh no more than a pebble then letting go. The head of his cock slams full force into your pussy with the weight of your entire body, each brutal pounding sending sparks of pleasure up your spine. Lungs free and no longer crushed to the floor, you’re unable to stay quiet, broken sobs and moans puffing from gritted teeth as he takes what he denied himself on his ship, the memory a thousand miles away as your processing center is fucked stupid.

You can’t say how long this goes on for, maybe minutes, maybe hours, but the next thing you know is that your cheek is back on the sand, burning from the way it chaffs against the floor with each rhythmic thrust that claps against your thighs. You’re don’t even know if you’ve cum yet but it doesn’t matter, not with the way he is fucking the life out of you here in the wilderness. Mando is still talking, still uttering filth and praise through the helmet and all you can think about is how badly you want to hear his real voice speaking that way to you, you’re so close to asking him to take it off but you can’t find the words, you can’t think, you can’t-

Abruptly, he grinds to a halt at the deepest point in your body then pulls himself free, pushing your shirt up lighting fast before cumming across your back with a choked exclamation. You’re both still for a second before your knees collapse, landing flat on your belly and gasping desperately. There is a shuffling noise behind you, accompanied with heavy breaths from the bounty hunter. It sounds like he’s rummaging through something then, yeah- your train of thought is confirmed when a wet cloth wipes his pleasure from your skin, gently trailing along your spine and ass.

You reach behind you and hold his wrist, feeling the fluttering pulse there. “I’ll win next time…” You whisper, drawing his hand along the soreness on your bottom, the area he bruised, you suspect. He laughs- or pants you can’t really tell, but either way his touch becomes more gentle on your body, smoothing out the tense muscles and cleaning you up. Today's travels with the man have suddenly caught up to you and you might pass out right here, half clothed and dirty.

“Come on, get up. Don’t sleep here.” Mando firmly states, helping you up and guiding you across the clearing after you pull your leggings up from where they gathered at your ankle. You’re trembling like a leaf, fragile in your spent state but glowing all the same. Mando sets you down on a log and brings you a canteen of water which you gulp down thankfully. He chuckles. “Wait up or I’ll have to drink from the spring.”

That gives you pause, reminding you of something he said while you lay beneath him. You’re slightly nervous to ask but you do it anyway, warm and satisfied on your perch while he cares for you. “You.. When you were, um- fucking me. Well, you said something about how you shouldn’t have waited. Does that mean what I think it means?”

He nods, “I noticed you for other reasons too, burc’ya.”

“Maybe you should’ve fucked me back then.” Taking another gulp then handing the canteen back, you stretch then slide down to sit on the ground with him, back against the log. “You said that word before, ber-borshaw?”

“Burc’ya.”He corrects,“It means friend in Mando’a.”

“Oh.”You cheeks heat, feeling silly and rude for not recognizing the use of his people’s tongue, also noting that he used it to refer to you twice now, endearingly. It is an honor, one that makes you nervous. You feel like you should apologize, somehow. “Y-You speak Mando’a? I’ve never heard you use it before.”

Mando settles against the log, leaning his broad shoulders to rest against the wood near your side. A few moments pass before he responds, “I chose to not use it around the others. Didn’t trust them.”

“Oh, so you trust me?” You giggle, tapping the side of his helmet with your elbow. Questions burn within you and you may as well ask now, in the quiet afterglow of sex where everything is warm and slow. “Why didn’t you trust them if you started the company with Ran? How am I any different?”

“You aren’t ruthless,” he surprises you by answering immediately, and you can’t decide whether you're insulted or not before he continues. “Ruthless and cruel is all that group ended up being, and it didn’t start out that way. We weren’t just mercenaries, we had a code. In the early days, attacking a slave ship would’ve been out of the question. Ran wasn’t always so full of greed.”

Silence falls after he speaks, letting you mull over his explanation for a while while the waterfall rumbles in the background. Really, his perspective confuses you when you think back on your actions as a mercenary. Desperate to climb the ranks, to make a name for yourself, to earn credits and reputation. You suppose you conducted yourself with empathy, avoiding selection for hits that targeted innocent people if you could help it. You never had much choice in the area but it seems your actions spoke louder than realized. So much energy spent to avoid seeming weak and you never considered that your aversion doubled as strength.

“Friend…” You whisper, not of your own accord. The word floats on your tongue, a specter within your vocabulary. In your adulthood you’ve had allies, you’ve had teammates, you’ve had acquaintances, but to have a friend… it terrifies you as much as it warms your heart. You considered yourself partnered professionally with the Mandalorian and didn’t dare to consider yourself lovers, no matter how much you privately hoped. But a friend is a luxury you didn’t hold close, mainly out of fear. You lost too many as a child. For a faceless man he manages to strike areas that are quite intimate.

You decide that you’ll enjoy being his friend, a bit surprised that you aren’t too hurt by what is essentially a romantic rejection of the crush you held for so long. Probably because this is real , solid and built within reality instead of the silly fantasies you built prior.

This is better than lovers, you tell yourself, the slight ache in your heart melting into the background of your desires, behind lock and key for another world.

“I’ll take ‘friend’, Mando.” You grin, extending a hand to him cheekily. He stares for a second before taking it and shaking, helmet tilting in a respectful nod.

His next words send an unexpected pang throughout your chest, taking all the careful walls you worked hard to set up and throwing them into a blazing inferno.

“Let’s see where it goes.”

Fuck.

----------------

Leather boots prance lightly through thick branches high in the trees, footfalls landing silently with all the grace of an athlete. Through the delicate glasses perched on the pursuers nose, a red glow blooms on the shadowy floor of the swamp, two sets of footprints lighting up to reveal a steady path made by the travelers. A musical giggle bubbles out of the darkly dressed woman as she pulls a small holo-watch from her bag and straps it onto her wrist, pale light mixing with her lavender skin, transforming it into a sickly grey.

Xi’an claps a hand over her mouth to prevent her cackle from ringing through the trees as her plan takes form.

***

TAG LIST (working on it slowly, message if you want)

@velia27 @shrekscoochiehair @tbhitisdbh @sparklingwitches @lazyonasunday @peach-child @leah-halliwell92 @riot-sounds

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xjoonchildx · 4 years

Text

guarded | jhs x reader | chapter two: i’m screwed

summary: you’ve tried to separate yourself from your infamous crime family, but a new case has your carefully-constructed world crashing down around you. now you have to figure out how to heal old wounds and handle the new man who enters your orbit.

pairing: hoseok x reader

genre: mafia AU, E2L, slow burn, tsundere, eventual smut

rating: 18+

word count: 3.1K

A/N: you guys are? the? best? i’m so thrilled that you guys like the story and i hope you like this chapter, too. i’d like to thank my emotional support llamas @ladyartemesia and @taetaewonderland for being the amazing people they are and beta reading for me, too. they really are the best.

Chapter 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | EPILOGUE

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

“What’s with the muscle?”

Donghyuk looks over his menu, eyes narrowed on the man just behind you. You sip your wine as you decide on how you want to answer that.

Jung Hoseok is seated at a table for one, barely three feet away. If you thought spending the last four days with him under one roof had been the most awkward stretch of your entire life, then you were dead wrong.

Tonight is infinitely more awkward.

“Personal security,” you say casually, picking up your menu to peruse the entrees for effect.

Donghyuk’s answering huff of agitation is loud -- probably loud enough for Hoseok to hear and your skin prickles with embarrassment.

“You need security to have dinner with me now?”

“Don’t be silly,” you say under your breath, hoping Donghyuk will take the hint and lower his voice. “I’m getting some heat on the Kwon and Lim case, so it’s just a precaution. Nothing to worry about.”

“Right,” he deadpans, one skeptical eyebrow raised. “I see you every day at work. How is this the first I’m hearing about this?”

“Must have slipped my mind,” you say with nonchalance, looking back to your menu.

You should be deciding on something to eat but your mind is wandering. You wonder if Hoseok has ever been to this restaurant before. You wonder if he purposely picked a table where he could see you but you couldn’t see him. You wonder what he plans to order.

You wonder --

“Well, you’re sending him home for the night, right?”

Your wine glass thumps against the linen tablecloth when you set it down with more force that you’d intended. A flush creeps up your neck.

How much of this conversation can Hoseok hear from his vantage point? The thought makes the tips of your ears warm as you fix your dinner date and occasional hookup partner with a warning glare. Smart as Donghyuk is -- with the law degree to prove it -- he can be downright thick sometimes.

‘No,” you say quietly.

He narrows his eyes.

“No, you don’t want to? Or no, you can’t?”

You blow out one long, irritated breath.

“‘Hyuk, I’m about two seconds from walking out of here,” you hiss. “Can we just drop this?”

He stops just short of frowning, eyes sliding back over your shoulder to Hoseok.

“And for the love of God, quit staring at him.”

Donghyuk slams his menu shut.

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

Jung Hoseok is like a ghost in your home.

He moves with a practiced stealth that makes it hard for you to keep track of what room he’s in at any given time. He’s awake when you wake and still awake when you head to your room at night.

You have no idea when the man sleeps or when he eats.

Conversations -- if you can call them that -- are stilted and awkward. Short discussions limited to working out the logistics of your day. You tell him where you need to be and when and he makes it happen.

Apart from that, there is silence -- thick and suffocating and constant.

In fact, Hoseok is so silent inside your home that when you’ve retreated to your opposite corners of the apartment you could almost pretend that things are normal. You could almost pretend that you don’t have a complete stranger living in your home.

But then you catch a scent.

It’s the smell of coffee that greets you when you wake every morning to a freshly-brewed pot.

It’s the clean, masculine smell that wafts under his bedroom door, carried on humid air after he’s showered.

And sometimes it’s the scent of gun oil that creeps into your room at night when he’s cleaning his pistol, bringing back memories you’d thought were long lost. Memories you’d hoped were long lost.

That’s the scent that always brings you back to your senses -- the one that reminds you that the man under your roof isn’t just any houseguest.

He might not look like the battered thugs who worked for your father all those years, but underneath the designer suits and composed exterior is a man cut from the very same cloth.

And you’d better not forget it.

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

The sunlight beating down on the window to your office this morning is deceptive.

Behind the protection of the thick glass, it’s powerful enough to make you feel uncomfortably warm in your lightweight sweater -- but outside it’s bitter cold.

Hoseok is parked just across the street from your building, like he has been every day this week. You can’t help but notice there isn’t any steam coming out of the exhaust of the sleek black sedan and you wonder if he’s warm enough in there.

“You busy?”

Hyejin interrupts your thoughts with a knock at your office door.

“Not at all,” you sigh, turning to smile at her before taking a seat at your desk. “I should be busy, I just seem to keep finding ways to put things off.”

“Tell me about it,” she laughs. “Listen, I was looking for the photos we got from the Daerim warehouse. I can’t find them in the file and thought maybe you pulled them for something.”

“No, I haven’t pulled them,” you say, lips pursing into a frown as your hands skate over the papers on your desk. You flip the corners of the folders up, checking to see if the photos are hidden underneath. “They’ve got to be here somewhere. Maybe Hajoon took them?”

Hyejin nods. “Yeah, maybe. I’ll check with him. You alright this morning?”

Tense laughter bubbles up your chest.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Just have a lot going on, is all. Let me know when you find those photos, okay?”

“Will do,” Hyejin promises before leaving you alone to your work and your thoughts.

Hyejin is probably the closest thing you have to a friend — but there’s no way you’d tell even her that your brother thinks someone is trying to kill you and you’re living with an armed guard.

That’s not a conversation you can have with anyone.

You grab a drink, straighten up your papers and get to work.

The raid at the Daerim warehouse turned up enough guns to arm the entire city. Police spent hours unpacking weapons from giant crates, hidden inside huge sacks of coffee beans and offloaded from a ship that docked from Colombia. The coffee was pretty decent, actually.

As for the guns -- you knew the Ssijog leadership was furious about the confiscation. In all, investigators estimated they took about 7 billion won worth of firearms out of that warehouse that day. That’s the kind of financial hit that could level any criminal organization, including your brother’s.

What you can’t seem to understand is why the Ssijog seem more worried about the men taken away at that raid than the guns.

You take a close look at the side-by-side booking photos of Kwon Jiho and Lim Joowon.

These are the kind of men who look like the muscle your father kept around. Heavily-tattooed, thick-necked and ears cauliflowered from one too many fights. Their criminal records read like street gangster templates, page after page of petty crimes starting in their youth graduating to more violent crimes in recent years.

Men like these are a dime a dozen in this line of work. So what makes these two so special that the Ssijog are this desperate to get them back?

You pull a post-it note out of your drawer and grab a sharpie. In big block letters you write the question you have to answer before this situation really spirals out of control.

WHAT DO THEY KNOW?

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

Car rides are the only time you let yourself get a good look at Jung Hoseok.

When he’s driving, his eyes never leave the road, never stray in your direction -- and you refuse to make him feel like some kind of glorified chauffeur by riding in the backseat. So you use the silent drives as an opportunity to steal glances at him from the passenger seat like a shy kid.

Hoseok has strangely elegant hands for a man with a career in crime, you think. Long fingers free of scratches and calluses; prominent veins that move when his hand works over the gear shift. And then there is his face -- his chiseled jawline and sharp nose and bow-shaped mouth.

He’s handsome, of course, and you -- a woman with a pulse and perfectly-functioning eyesight -- would be lying if you tried to deny it.

Tonight you are so distracted with looking at Hoseok’s face that you miss the fact that he’s skipped the turn he normally takes to get back to your apartment. It isn’t until you are well into the heart of downtown that you snap out of your stupor and take a look outside.

“Where are we going?”

“Your brother wants to see you.”

Your scowl is wasted on the man because he doesn’t bother to look your way.

“So is this how things work now? You and my brother decide where I go and when and I’m the last to know?”

Hoseok is unmoved by your obvious irritation.

“Just following orders,” he counters evenly. “You’ll need to take up any concerns you have about your schedule with Namjoon.”

“I’ll do that,” you murmur, turning to glare out the window.

A short while later you’re walking into your brother’s office, Hoseok trailing closely behind. Namjoon signals for him to leave the two of you alone to speak privately. You round on him as soon as the door latches behind Hoseok.

“If you want me here,” you say tightly, “Then tell me. Directly. I don’t like finding out I have plans second-hand from my babysitter.”

The corners of Namjoon’s mouth lift into a wry smile. “Good to see you too?”

You roll your eyes but you can’t help but smile back. Your brother seems at ease tonight, lighter somehow. It’s a good look on him.

“I want to know how things are going,” he says, leaning back into his chair. “How are you finding Jung Hoseok?”

Let’s see. Frigid? Intense? Unapproachable?

“He’s...quiet,” you say after a long moment. “And maybe unnecessary at this point. I haven’t had any more trouble since that letter.”

“I assure you, he’s still very necessary,” Namjoon returns quickly. “We’ve still got a lot to work out as far as this situation goes. My guys on the street say the Ssijog are in planning mode. I don’t want any of them catching us unaware with some kind of nasty surprise.”

You sigh. “So no end in sight.”

“Not right now. Just bear with this a bit longer, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you agree quietly, reaching into your pocket to retrieve your buzzing phone.

Your mouth pulls into a tight line when you read the waiting message.

hyejin: can’t find the pictures. hajoon doesn’t have [ 6:15 PM ]

you: ? i have backup on my laptop [ 6:17 PM ]

hyejin: okay need to make sure we have those tonight? [ 6:18 PM ]

you: yeah, i’ll call you from my place when i get them [ 6:18 PM ]

“Everything alright?” Namjoon asks when you rub your fingers against your temples.

“Yeah, just work stuff,” you sigh, a low-level anxiety simmering in your stomach. “I actually have to go, unless there’s something else you needed?”

“No, just—“ your brother looks like there’s something he wants to say, but decides against it. “— just be careful, okay?”

You nod and send him a small smile.

“I’ll try.”

You’re almost to the door when you hear him call out to you again.

“And Amsaja -- with Hoseok. Try being nice.”

He nearly laughs at the disgusted look you shoot back.

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

HOSEOK

Hoseok’s got a pretty good idea of what a prosecutor makes in this town, and it’s damned sure not enough to pay for your lifestyle.

Your spacious apartment in one of the best buildings in town, your expensive furnishings, your fancy car and your designer clothes. Hoseok has done the math in his head and that shit does not add up.

You’re a hypocrite, he decides -- too good to associate yourself with the trash that brings money in for the Gajog, but apparently not too good to spend it. Living comfortably on the backs of men you wouldn’t acknowledge in the streets.

Men like him.

Hoseok wishes that didn’t get under his skin the way it does.

He wishes he didn’t feel resentment simmering under the surface every time he sees you, every time he even thinks of you. You keep to yourself and you don’t make demands and you haven’t really given him a reason to dislike you, but he desperately wants to.

He needs to.

He wishes he truly didn’t give a shit about the idiot you had dinner with the other day. The one straight off the assembly line of some prep school in the Seocho District. The one with the loud mouth and the loafers and the country-club grin. He wonders what you see in that guy, when all he can see is how punchable his face looks.

That’s why Hoseok doesn’t give too much weight to the furtive looks he can see you stealing in his peripheral vision. He doesn’t put too much stock in the way your cheeks color when he looks at you sometimes. He has to remind himself that underneath the polite distance and pretty packaging, you’re just desperate to be done with this entire situation. You’re desperate to distance yourself from him and people like him.

When he finds himself staring at you when you’re not looking, Hoseok forces himself to remember that men like him don’t warm your bed, they pay your bills.

And he’d better not forget it.

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

Hoseok can read the agitation in your body language loud and clear the second you slide back into the car.

He can see the way you keep scrolling through your phone, firing off texts and emails from the passenger seat. Tonight, you stare out of the window instead of pretending not to stare at him and he wonders what happened behind closed doors with your brother.

He almost lets it go because it’s none of his business. But he’s curious.

“Are you...upset about something?”

You seem to startle when he asks the simple question.

“Uh, yeah. Sort of,” you admit quietly, eyes falling back to your phone. “Work stuff. I have to find something when we get home.”

Hoseok nods, eyes glued to the road. “We’ll be there soon.”

“Thanks,” you say, turning to look out the window again.

Minutes later, you’re both walking into the apartment. Hoseok turns to secure the deadbolt lock and when he turns back, you’re gone. He hears the room to your bedroom click closed.

He briefly entertains the idea of asking you if you need help, but resists.

Instead he sweeps the open rooms of the apartment like he does every night before heading into his room and closing the door.

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

The knock that comes almost two hours later is just short of aggressive. Hoseok jumps up off the bed, ready in the case of trouble.

He does not miss the way your eyes go a bit wide when he opens the door, dressed in a thin tank and sweatpants.

“You need something?” he asks when you don’t say anything right away.

“Uh yeah, sorry,” you say with a shake of your head. “I’ve just never seen you in anything but a suit. For a second I wasn’t sure you were the same man.”

“You think I sleep in a suit?”

“Well I wouldn’t put it past you,” you say hotly. “But that’s not the point. I need you to take me to the office. Please.”

Hoseok glances at his watch.

“Now?”

“Yes,” you sigh. “I know it’s late and I’m sorry. This is super important.”

“Alright, hang on,” Hoseok says, turning to grab his holster from the dresser. He slips into it and notices your gaze lingering on the pistol he fits onto his side. You clear your throat and look down at the floor while he slips a sweatshirt overhead.

“It’s just a precaution, okay?”

Hoseok doesn’t know why he’s bothering to reassure you. You know that he’s armed all the time, you grew up in this life. None of this should surprise you.

You say nothing.

It takes only ten minutes to get across town to your office, in the dead of night and in the absence of traffic. You look almost as irritated as you are surprised when Hoseok climbs out of the car to escort you inside.

“You’re coming in?”

“Yes,” Hoseok fires back, keeping pace just behind you. “It’s well after hours. No one will see us together, since that’s what you’re so worried about.”

You stop for a moment, turning to face him and mouth opening like you want to deny it. But you don’t.

“Fine,” you say under your breath. “Please avoid looking at the cameras.”

“I know how to do my job,” Hoseok manages between gritted teeth.

“I never said you didn’t,” you hiss back.

The two of you stand just outside the entrance to the building, trading glares.

The tension feels like a step backward somehow.

One strained elevator ride later, Hoseok trails you into your office. You flip the lights and immediately get to work going through file cabinets. Hoseok takes a look around.

It’s not a huge space, but the large windows looking out onto the street make it look a little bigger. Piles of file folders and papers are sorted into neat columns on your desk. A desk, Hoseok notes -- completely devoid of personal effects. No pictures, no mementos. He doesn’t know why that bothers him so much.

“Shit.”

It’s the first word either one of you has spoken in five minutes.

“Shit, shit, shit.”

Hoseok turns to find you on your knees at the base of a filing cabinet, a pile of flash drives scattered across the floor.

“What is it?” he asks, crouching down beside you.

“Oh my God,” you whisper, covering your face with your hands.

Hoseok picks up a flash drive, turns it to the side to read the small label. It’s dated three years back, with the name “Cheon” written on the side.

“All of my digital evidence is gone. All of it,” you whisper, voice wobbling with emotion. “I was searching the cloud at home and thought there was some kind of mistake. There’s no way this is a mistake. There’s no way my cloud and flash backups disappeared by chance.”

You’re right, of course, but Hoseok doesn’t voice that out loud. You look stricken already without him pouring salt in that wound.

“What about these?” he asks, handing you the flash drive.

“Old cases,” you say, shoving a hand through your hair. “They didn’t bother to pull my old cases. Whoever took them knew exactly what they were looking for.”

Hoseok almost forgets himself for a moment.

He nearly forgets who you are and who he is and what this is. He stops himself just short of reaching out to put a comforting hand on your shoulder.

You turn tired eyes up to meet his.

“I’m screwed.”

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

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#hoseok smut #hoseok x reader #bts mafia #bts tsundere #hoseok mafia au #bangtanarmynet #btswriterscollective #ksmutclub #ficswithluv #btscreatorscorner #networkbangtan

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thewritingginger · 3 years

Text

Night at The Fall - Lucifer x Reader

OH LORD this is SUCH an old request from freaking lAsT yEaR oops

but Its been done :D @ecryveaine I’m so sorry you had to wait so long and you probably don’t even care anymore but here it is 😅

It took forever cuz slumps be like dat ya know lol

Enjoy ~

Prompt: Smut #1 “Don’t make me take you home and punish you.” Fandom: Obey Me! Pairing: Lucifer x F! Reader Word Count: 3,681 words Warning(s): NSFW, 18+, mentions alcohol, Dom! Lucifer & Sub! Reader, Rough sex, public/semi-public sex, degrading, pet names, oral sex (BJ), begging, after care, really old and over do oops

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The room is filled to the brim with touching-bodies making the air humid. The music's vibrations rumble through the walls and the floorboards. The alcohol in your bloodstream begins to make your body tingle. You’re in a booth in the corner of the club swaying in your seat to the music. Sitting next to you sipping his scotch was the one and only Lucifer. You look over to him with glossy eyes. “Lets go dance!” you say excitedly leaning close to your lover's ear. Shaking his head he responds, “I don’t want to dance.” His tone is flat as he takes another sip of his beverage. “Well fine. Then you’ll just have to watch me.” Your sassy response is accompanied with a playful smirk on your lips.

Getting up, the alcohol pumping through your veins makes your body loose, allowing the music to move you with ease. Standing a few feet away from the booth that Lucifer still resides in you begin to lose yourself in the atmosphere around you. Swaying your hips side to side, your arms gliding fluidly to the rhythm. Your eyes close for a moment, enjoying the freedom of movement. Opening your eyes your sight lands upon the hungry gaze of the first born. Reclined in the booth’s velvet cushions, taking slow swings from his glass as his black orbs roam over your form. Adorned in a tight red dress, the garment accenting your figure in an alluring way. His eyes following your every movement, never staying in one spot for long.

After a minute of feeling his gaze analyze your being, you decide you want to toy with him a bit.

As his eyes continue to bore into you, you turn your back to him. Outlining your body and rocking your hips side to side. You look over your shoulder to see if your actions have taken any effect on the demon. Nothing but a half cocked brow changes on his straight face. Running his tongue quickly across his lips he gets up without saying a word to get another drink. You let out a huff, but then a wicked idea pops into your head.

When Lucifer returns to his spot the situation has changed. He left you to dance on your own but returned to see you speaking with another person. A man. Sitting down he crosses his legs waiting to see what the other demon might pull.

Feeling a piercing stare behind you, you discreetly glance over your shoulder and you see it. You see Lucifer’s face and you sense the fire slowly starting to build within him. Finally getting some kind of rise out of him. You think to yourself ‘Why don't we make this a little more interesting.’ So to add kindling to the fire you smile at the young demon talking to you running your hand down his arm. You ask him to dance with you, cause you still wanted to dance with someone and if Lucifer didn't want to be that person then so be it.

The man standing opposite to you grows excited by your invitation. As the song continues the man inches closer to your body, resting his hands on your hips. A few minutes pass and as a new song begins you turn around, your ass mere centimeters away from the other man’s pelvis. His hands continue to explore your waist. You lock eyes with a certain demon with quite the stern look painted on his face. Tight lipped and arms crossed, his look daring you to go further. Taking him on his silent challenge you press your body firmly against your dance partner. Your head falls back gently resting on his shoulder. The man accepts your warmth and leans in to plant a few chased kisses on your exposed neck and shoulder. That's when Lucifer had enough of this little show of yours.

Standing up Lucifer makes his way over to the two of you and stops right behind the unsuspecting man. Unaware of the spiders web you have just got him caught in. Feeling Lucifer's strong presence the man turns his gaze up at Lucifer’s searing glare. “Uh, got a problem man?” The demon asks a bit agitated from the interruption. “You’re touching what's mine.” Lucifer growls. “Well I didn't see her pressing her ass against you, now did I?” The demon laughs. A cocky grin plastered on his face..

A sadistic smile cuts Lucifer’s lips, “Well keep this up and I promise, you won't be seeing much of anything. Now I suggest you leave while you still have your legs to do so.” His threatening words cause the demon to step back and scurry off to another part of the club. With your arms crossed you pout, “Aww Luci, you could've been a bit nicer to the poor guy.I was just having a little fun. You didn't have to come and ruin it. But since you’re here.” You take a step towards him “I can dance with you now.” Your words come with an innocent smile. Taking Lucifer’s hand, you hold it above your head as you lead him further into the crowd of drunken dancers. The lights hit the smoke in the air creating patterns in your vision. The changing colors of the strobes paint your skin technicolored. Turning back to your lover you return to dancing but this time being more daring with your actions. Twirling your hips in a circle you turn your back to him rubbing your butt on his manhood. Rocking to the music you let a wandering hand wedge itself between you and Lucifer, palming at his crotch a few times before you feel his bruising grip on your wrist. Leaning into your ear, his voice penetrating your entire body. “If I were you I would be mindful of what it is you are doing Y/n.” His tone suggests you to be cautious but the way his words seemed to carve themselves into you made you shiver with delight. Playing innocent you say “I don't know what you mean Luci, I’m just having a little fun with you.” You smirk inwardly, knowing the game you were playing. Knowing the risks of what egging him on could lead to. After a moment of pondering your innocent confession you feel a low fiendish chuckle vibrate against your back. Moving to the music with you, his iron clamp on your hip tightens as he wraps his other arm around you to caress your neck. Pulling you against his chest enabling you to move. “Y/n, don't make me take you home and punish you.” His taunting words make the warmth betwixt your thighs sear like a branding iron. Feeling as if the air is caught within your throat his words continue. “Or perhaps you wish for me to take you here.” Your eyes shoot open at his insinuating words. “I know you wanted to make me jealous, that's why you let that scum put his hands on you.” Your breath quickens from the excitement building within you. Your electrified haze is broken by Lucifer’s sudden movements, your wrist firmly in his fist as he drags you towards the entrance.

Opening the doors of the hot bar a cold gust of wind washes over you, shocking your system. Pulling you to the side now standing in the dark alleyway Lucifer plants your back against the cold-damp concrete wall. Holding your chin up, his face a breath away from yours. “What am I going to do with you Y/n?” He asks with a tsk. His hand slipping down your neck, your side to then rest on your hip. Seeing a light bulb go off in his head a devilish gleam flashes across his eyes. “On your knees.” His words leave you speechless for a second. “But Luc~.” You’re cut off, “I said, on your knees. Now!” His command comes out with more force. Sinking to the ground you look up at him, “Undo my pants.” Another order, you obey. As you undo his belt and unzip his trousers you glance to the side where you hear people leaving and entering The Fall night club. “Lucifer what if someone sees us?” “They won't. And besides you didn't seem to mind what others thought when you were inside. I thought since you could act so shameless in front of others on your feet, you wouldn’t mind doing it on your knees.” Looking down at you, his words wrapped in sin. “Now be a good slut and do as I tell you and maybe I'll reward you after.” His fingers tangle in your hair pulling your face close to his hardened member.

Placing a hand on his thigh and the other gripping his penis. You swallow hard before you open your mouth to drag your tongue up the underside of his shaft. Putting his tip in your mouth beginning to suck, Lucifer pumps your mouth up and down himself to his desired pace. His hips bucking toward its pleasure with every few bobs of your head. His breath becoming deeper, you begin to hear low growls leaking from his throat. Looking up through your lashes you see the predatory look in his eyes. The way he looks at you like a hungry lion eyeing a wounded gazelle. Devouring you with his gaze, making you shrink under his intensity as he uses your mouth for his own needs.

After he is satisfied with the use of your mouth he pulls you back gasping, a string of saliva connecting your mouth to his cock. Before you are able to catch your breath he hoists you back to your feet, facing you towards the wall. Pulling your hips back with his strong hands as he roughly yanks up the hem of your dress over your ass. The cool air against your skin makes your legs tremble. “Hmm.” An amused hum meets your ears. “You really are something. Coming out here in this little dress wearing no panties.” Punctuating his statement with a firm smack against your right asscheek. Pulling a fistful of your hair back, making your back form a u-shape. “You wanted me to use you tonight, huh?” Putting his fingers between your legs he feels your essence coating his digits. “Look at you, sopping wet like a bitch in heat and all from having my cock in your throat. I wonder just how much further I can take you before I break you.”

Sliding his tip against your entrance, reviling in its sinful decadence. Craving more of what your body has for him. Putting his slick covered fingers into your mouth tasting yourself as he slams his hips against yours. Your moans muffled by his fingers. The sudden intrusion makes your knees buckle.

He starts to pump into your core with powerful thrusts. Sounds of flesh smacking and stifled cries echo in the empty alleyway. Contorting your head back to continue his assault on your ears, filling your brain with nothing but his voice. “Look at you defenseless against me. Completely at my mercy. You love having my cock stuffed inside you don't you?” Unable to say anything you nod your head. Letting out a choked groan, the way he is fucking you and your backs bent is proventing you from taking a full breath. “I’m sure the thought that any one of those people walking in and out of that door over there could look over and see us gets you off. Huh, Princess.” Unable to do anything once again but nod your head in agreement as pleasure consumes you whole. Feeling as if the world is spinning, your brain incapable of knowing up from down at this point. His masterful thrusts hitting you in just the right spot over and over again. His words, pushing you closer to the edge. “You're such a little whore for my cock. I should’ve defiled you right in front of everyone, so they could see just how dirty you really are. You would've liked that huh?” A choked out “Yes'' leaves your lips causing a pleased smile to grace Lucifer's face. “Yes, what?” he asks with a hard spank, a red mark colors your butt. “Y-yes Master.” You corrected your response earning you a heated kiss before releasing your face. Dropping your head down stretching your neck from the unnatural position you were in. He pulls both your arms back holding you by your elbows as he begins to mercilessly pound into your womanhood.

Your knees feel weak. Unsure whether you’ll be able to keep yourself upright, Lucifer’s grip on you doesn’t falter. Still trying to suppress the moans from erupting from your throat you let out whispered screams to try and get some release. “Still trying to hold back? Well that's fine I guess I’ll have to pry those sweet sounds out of you.” His threat makes you involuntarily whimper, unsure if you can take much more of this relentless fucking he’s giving you. “P-please I don't know if I can take any more.” You confess hoping he will let up a bit, but how naive you were to dream of that happening.

“Oh I’m sorry, Y/n. Am I being too rough with you?” As he speaks in a mocking tone his thrusts slow down to long agonizing pumps. “I’m sorry.” Relieved that the pace has slowed down but the anxiety of what he has in store for you next keeps you from letting your guard down. His grip on your elbows disappears allowing you to stretch your arms. His large palms feel up and down your sides as he places kisses on your shoulder. You begin to lose yourself in this new found softness for a moment before it stops, “Well Princess, If you don’t like how I’m fucking you then, you do it!” He says, pulling out of you. Turning you around to face him, his eyes hungry. He picks you up like you’re weightless. Wrapping your arms and legs around him to keep yourself up. Eyes locked. His forehead to yours. “Cause either way, I am having you!”

Inserting himself back into your wetness you let out a weary gasp, His hands firmly gripping your ass “Start moving.” His commanding words make you move innately as if you don't have control over your own body anymore. This body that claims to be yours but when his stringent words fill your ears you are reminded of who really governs it. With every twist of his lips and smack of his palm you are consumed with the ever present desire to please him. To give up your body for this ravenous beast. Presenting yourself, a banquet of erotic delicacies that only you can offer him. Wanting him to devour you with every kiss, needing him to take your body past its limits. Your muscles strain as they loop around his toned form, screaming to keep you up. Your hips eagerly trying to take in every inch of his manhood. Growing increasingly exasperated, feeling as if you can't get close enough. “Come on is that the best you can do? Prove to me that you want my cock.” His taunting words don’t register in your mind, every syllable blurs together as you try and focus on keeping yourself up and moving your hips. The heat inside you is enough to make you feel like you’re melting. Allowing yourself to be putty in his hands as he molds you to what he wants. Shaping yourself around his body like a puzzle piece. His dark silky locks are tightly wound in your shaking digits. Your face buried in his neck. Sinking your teeth into his shoulder trying desperately to muffle your cries of pleasure. A hiss is heard as Lucifer sucks in through his teeth. A dark chuckle erupts from his chest. “We’re biting now are we? Well then~” With his amusement you let out a little squeal as Lucifer digs his fingernails into the plump skin of your ass. His hands assisting you in your movements, your hips meet each other with bruising force. The sound of skin slapping against each other and muffled screams emanate from the dark alleyway. “Fuck!” His hoarse whisper vibrates through your weak body. Trying desperately to keep your grip around him. Detaching from his shoulder you meet his gaze. Directing him you kiss him hungrily. Tears pricking your eyes, moaning into his lips. All your senses being stimulated. His touch. His taste. His smell. His moans. All of it fills you up. Nearing your breaking point you hug him closer, if that was even possible. With every stroke of his shaft inside you you’re pushed closer and closer to the edge. The coil inside you coming undone burns in your belly. Seeking your end you move your hips faster. Not caring if anyone can see or hear you. All you care about is him. This moment. Your end. Nothing else mattered but the pleasure between you two.

Just a few more movements of your hips and you feel the string holding you together snap. You kiss Lucifer as you climax. Muffling your sweet cries of passion. Your walls convulse around his manhood, urging him to keep going. Riding out your orgasm you feel his cock twitch signifying his impending end. Not having a chance to come down for your high, being over stimulated by his never wavering need to fill you with his seed. Claiming you as his. His mind, that of an animal, focusing solely on marking his territory. He will have everyone that sees you know your his. If not from the marks he leaves behind then from his semen dripping down your legs. His feverish movements become sloppier. Looking into your eyes, foreheads touching he releases his essence inside you. Your walls are coated with hot ropes of cum, as he maintains a slow pace. Milking his cock for all it has.

With his back to the wall, standing there motionlessly in silence. A minute passes. Both breathless, calming down from the ride you went on. The excitement melting into tiredness. Your head rests limp against his before sweeping the loose hair in your face. Looking at him, your eyes, heavy. Cradling your face like a prized gem, rubbing your cheek with his thumb he pulls you in for a tender kiss. “You okay? Do you think you can walk?” He asks, a new found softness to his once rough voice. You nod your head, “I’m okay.” You offer a smile and catch his lips again. Reveling in the aftermath of your heated moment. You gasp as he pulls out slowly. Placing your feet on the ground he waits for you to steady yourself. Fixing your clothes you look over to him as he buckles his belt back on. Draping his blazer over your shoulders he lifts your chin. “Let’s go home, I’ll draw you a nice bath.” Kissing your forehead you wrap your arms around his waist. “That sounds nice.” You say with a smile.

Taking your first step to leave the alleyway Lucifer catches you as you stumble a bit. I guess walking in heels on cobblestone after a particularly aggressive fucking isn’t that easy. Laughing it off you feel his strong arms pick you up. “Here I’ll walk you to the car.” Accepting his offer you rest your head on his shoulder as he carries you to the car that’s picking you up.. On the drive home you both are relaxed in each other's arms. His fingers draw patterns on your shoulder as he breathes in your shampoo.

Once at the house of Lamentation you and Lucifer went separate ways. Him to the bathroom to run you a bath and you to your room to get unready.

Walking into the dimly lit bathroom the only light coming from the lit tea candles. The bath is filled with steaming water and a mountain of bubbles. The hint of lavender and sage hangs in the air. “I got you a glass of water as well. Do you need help getting in?” Lucifer asks as he helps derobe you. Nodding your head, he hangs your robe on a hook as you take his hand. Stepping into the bath you sigh at the perfect temperature. Bubbles surrounding you as you sink further into the water. The tension in your muscles drifts away as the water warms you up. Looking over to Lucifer you give him a smile. “Won't you join me?” You ask. Your question tugs the corners of his lips up. His eyes are soft as he begins to strip his body of his clothing. You can’t take your eyes off him as he does. With your gaze locked you can’t help but feel warm all over but this time not from the water. You are washed over with such love for this man. A man that can drive you mad with desire and lust but also make you feel like a schoolgirl with their crush. He can be an animal one minute and a prince the next. While in your thoughts you feel Lucifer step in behind you. Your back against his chest, skin to skin. His arms wrap around your front, you rest your head back on his shoulder. Back in that comfortable silence. Your energies intermingling. Engaged in another act of intimacy, one that's softer but just as passionate. ‘I really do love this man.’

Your thoughts make you laugh. “What are you laughing about?” He asks, placing a light kiss on your head. “Oh nothing. Just thinking about how much I love you.” You look up to see him smile at your comment. “And how much is that?” He asks playfully. “Wouldn’t you like to know.” You say back, flicking some water in his face. You both get lost in laughter before he pulls you in for a kiss. “I bet if I try hard enough I can get you to tell me.” He says holding your cheek. “We’ll see about that.”

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Golly gosh that was kinda long but also soo freakin old lol idek if its good at this point I read it so many times xD

But I hope you enjoyed it :3 and hopefully unless school doesnt keep kicking me in the face I can slowly keep getting more out 😅

💛 ~

#obey me #obey me game #shall we date #shall we date obey me #shall we date lucifer #obey me lucifer #lucifer #lucifer x reader #x reader #x f!reader #valentines day prompts #valentines day #*nsfw #super late #oops

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sanktnikolais · 3 years

Text

Shadow and Soul

A/N: guess who has another content again after like two months? KJAHSFLKHASDF

Have this Mafia au bc the Vincenzo energy in me is very strong rn and i wanted to write some chaotic/serious mafia au

Word count: 4701

CW: Violence

An attempt on the head of the Lantsov Family's life has occurred under their noses, and it's up to the Underboss and her Consigliere to settle things the clean way or the dirty way.

How Zoya could still find patience for the man in front of her was a mystery. But having more patience for the all-too-smiling Consigliere beside her was a skill she had acquired over the years, and as much as she wanted to strangle her lawyer companion, she couldn’t deny she was enjoying the look of rage on Anton Demidov’s eyes as he tried not to lash out his anger. The smug facade he was currently wearing wasn't able to keep the emotions from showing in his gaze.

The small restaurant they were cramped in was humid enough to dry up what’s left of her restraint from wanting to tear the furious look from the man’s face, but she strengthened her resolve. There were several other people dining in here with them, and it would be rude if she suddenly did something rather unlady-like to this gentleman in a suit. Besides, she did promise the infuriating blond that she would ‘be diplomatic for once’, as per his request.

Perhaps she could try to be.

“It’s a fair deal, dearest Anton,” said Nikolai to the Demidovs' caporegime, still grinning his usual crowd-winning smile. When his eyes cast down to Anton’s now clenched fist on the table, the glint of amusement in Nikolai’s eyes only became brighter. If there was something her Consigliere was good at, it was pushing another person’s buttons by merely smiling. “No more threats to the Lantsovs and no more operating the casino without our jurisdiction, and I will personally tell our enforcers to stop the assault on your family’s businesses. Possibly sprinkle a monthly cut from your profit into our pockets, too, no?"

Considering how Anton’s jaw twitched in annoyance only told Zoya that he didn’t like the deal at all. Having the upper hand over the Lantsovs meant being powerful enough to actually go against them, and considering that they were the most powerful among the families, it was a rather bold move to attempt murdering Alexander Lantsov.

Ever since the day the Lantsov head was openly shot at, along with plenty of their men in the streets of Os Alta, Zoya had considered the move as an act of war and broke any peace treaties between their families. She led the attack on the biggest casino the Demidovs had in Kribirsk, effectively shutting the place down and cutting the third of the family’s investments. The assaults continued for the next two weeks, even the smallest businesses didn’t escape their wrath, until the Demidovs were backed to the corner and forced to surrender.

If it were another circumstance, she would have stopped there. She knew they would have learned their lesson by that time. Yet the thought of failing to protect their chief because she hadn’t anticipated any attempts on his life that day only gave her enough reason to continue the attacks.

"I would suggest listening to him. Do him a favor, will you? He loves talking,” Zoya said with unexpected calmness. She leaned back to a more comfortable position in her chair, reaching up to remove the first button by her collar.

This must have brought the wrong impression on Anton's guards stationed by the far window to the left, and they were already reaching for their weapons from their holsters. She merely raised an eyebrow at them.

Panic seized Anton’s eyes as he turned to his guards. He pointed a finger at them. “You’ve frisked them, right?” he demanded. Even though he tried to sound very much authoritative, the slight tremor in his voice didn't go unnoticed by Zoya. But the guards seemed to be oblivious of this, and still nodded nervously. “Then why are you all acting hostile? Stand down.”

Zoya snickered silently. So much for being the one to lead the assassination attempt but was already panicking over the smallest movement she made. She itched for her gun, which was unfortunately dismantled and held by Anton's right hand man as per their no weapons rule during business talks. Her shoulder holsters felt impossibly light without its presence. Maybe it was time to stop the bullshit that was called 'talking' and just start the real line of action.

Patience, dearest Zoya, her infuriating Consigliere's voice echoed in her head. The way he was starting to rub off on her was terrifying. It'd be a good thing to be diplomatic for once.

"No need to be jumpy, Anton. It's just too humid in here." Zoya emphasized her statement by fanning herself with a hand. She heard Nikolai chuckle beside her. "Besides, it's not that I have any more weapons on me."

Come on, lash out at me, goaded Zoya in her mind. Give me enough reason to finally take you down where you stand.

Anton turned back to her and smiled tightly. "I'm aware of that, Miss Nazyalensky. But I can't blame my men for taking precautions, especially around someone who's known to be ruthless."

"I'm honored, sir, but we can't as much as do anything considering the number of your guards in here with us." She shrugged, gesturing to her right. "There's just the four of us."

Her eyes met the two lone guards of their own at the opposite side. Where they only brought the twins along with them for safety, was Anton Demidov’s unit of at least twenty men surrounding the place. She almost found it funny—he was the one to first make a threat over the Lantsovs and yet he was cowering in front of them.

Tamar made a face, gesturing crudely to the Demidov caporegime and making Zoya chuckle lightly. Her twin brother Tolya kicked her in the shin, but there was no denying the smile he was fighting to appear on his lips. Seeing their presence lightened the tense weight on her shoulders somehow, as she knew that they alone could take Demidov's men if things went south.

And considering the stubborn set of Anton's jaw and the fury in his eyes, blood will surely be shed tonight.

Zoya glanced around the room, silently counting how many of his guards were inside the restaurant with them. She let her eyes wander for a few moments, and she was able to count at least eight. There were probably a few more she hadn't seen, but her eyes catching a woman in a bright red overcoat was enough to make her wince and look back to Demidov.

"A rather powerful move," Nikolai said lowly, making her turn to him with a raised brow. There was a smirk playing on his lips as he continued to watch the other man, and it was a clear sign that he was quite enjoying seeing Demidov almost ready to explode. He leaned a bit closer to her ear. "It's really not the perfect time or place to take off your clothes, sir. But if you can make them squirm by doing just that, then be my guest. A little fun before the storm isn't so bad."

Zoya rolled her eyes, her foot connecting solidly to his leg. He let out a muffled wheezed, and he covered it up by clearing his throat when Anton gave him a weird look. Knowing Nikolai was already stressful enough, but having him as her Consigliere and hearing him do the talking most of the time was exhausting.

But he got things done without having to use guns or knives. Words were his weapons, and though he was often mild and considerate during negotiations, he still wielded his words dangerously when circumstances deemed it necessary.

"What do you say, Demidov?" Nikolai said, his grin returning. "It's a rather generous deal."

The table rattled as Anton's fist slammed down on it. "We will not be your family's lapdog," he growled through gritted teeth. If he had been able to hold in his rage, now he was full on acting on it, just like Zoya had expected him to do. "You think you're all so powerful and strong just because you're controlling this city, but not to me." He looked at Nikolai with utter disgust. "I'm surprised Alexander even cared for his bastard enough to appoint him as Consigliere out of all designations."

Something snapped inside Zoya, feeling her suppressed rage flare back to the surface, and she was already considering tipping over the table to the man's face. But a hand enclosed around her wrist from under the table, the touch warm and familiar for her to know it was Nikolai. He must have sensed her sudden want to resort to the worst way.

She risked a glance at him. A shadow had passed over his usual cheerful face, his eyes hard and empty as his jaw twitched in anger. Then a smile appeared on his lips a moment later, the sharp, wicked smile of a man who had reached the last straw of his patience.

"Are getting personal now, Anton?" Nikolai said, his tone still surprisingly calm. "I thought it was all business?"

"Oh, that's true. All business, Lantsov," Anton spat Nikolai’s name like a poison that stung his mouth. "And if I kill you right now, I can just report you for trespassing. It's still business, no? I'm just protecting my property."

Zoya raised an eyebrow. "Is that an open threat?" she said flatly. “Do tell me if it is so we can settle this the way I know we both wanted from the start.”

"Depends on how you put it." Anton gestured to the door. "And if you both are smart enough, then that means you know your only choice is to leave."

So the Demidovs still chose not to have a ceasefire between the families. It was exactly how she expected this night would go. Nikolai owed her a drink later.

"You're acting way too brash for a caporegime," said Zoya as she reached for the cup in front of her to take a sip of the leftover coffee from an hour ago. "Are you sure your family could handle another attack in any of your remaining businesses?"

Anton looked almost smug. Confident, even, as if he suddenly had the upper hand against them. Oh, how Zoya hated to ruin his bravado. "As you've said, Nazyalensky, there's only four of you. So you should watch that tongue of yours."

A sneer threatened its way to her lips, but she didn't dare let it show. She wondered if he would still have the same smugness later, when she finally demonstrated the 'ruthlessness' Anton liked to describe her with.

There was a tense silence around them, and if Zoya listened harder, she was sure she could hear the guards' heavy breathing even from ten meters away. She eyed the other exits—all guarded by Demidov's men. Even the twins' position to their right was at a disadvantage, they could be easily opened fire on if they weren't fast enough to take cover.

"Very well. It would not be a fair fight." She relented, making it sound as convincing as possible. She put the cup back on the table. "We will just leave."

The Demidov caporegime huffed but didn't say anything more. He leaned back on his chair, his triumphant smile never wavering. "I'm glad you're finally starting to think, Miss Nazyalensky."

Another wave of annoyance, and what she could sense as her suppressed rage resurfacing, washed over her. She wrinkled her nose in displeasure. They should have just ambushed the caporegime on his way here. It would have been much easier. Plus, they could even save time and sanity for not going through this 'civilized' negotiation. In their world where power was the only thing to protect you, you should never give a chance to your enemy to take it from you.

Eliminate and narrow down the list of your enemies.

It was now up to Nikolai whether they would go through it or just leave.

The Consigliere leaned back on the chair, his other hand reaching up to loosen his tie. There was a look of disappointment on his face, but his eyes said otherwise. He was already expecting this. "That was quite an exchange," he said with a shrug. Then he shook himself for a bit. "Wow, I think I need to use the restroom after all that. Do you mind if I go? Or should your guards come along to make sure I'm not doing anything out of the ordinary?"

"Just get on with it and leave. I should have known this meeting was useless from the start."

Nikolai feigned a hurtful look. "Oh, how harsh," he said dramatically. "But alright, your call."

The hand that was still around Zoya's wrist loosened, his fingers coming around until his forefinger rested on her pulse point. Warmth erupted from where his skin met hers, and she tried not to let it distract her from the message he was trying to say. He had held her like this far too many times, had even been in a much closer proximity than now when their situation needed them be, and yet her heart still threatened to leap out of her chest whenever he touched her.

Focus, her mind berated, and that’s when she felt it: his finger tapping on her skin twice. It was their go signal. They had made their own sign language over the past three years, when business talks and other matters got a bit out of hand and they needed to subtly communicate with the other. It was something that only the two of them knew of, and it definitely did wonders for them when words weren’t needed.

Zoya gave him a pointed glance sideways as he stood up and let go of her wrist. It was the look that said, I told you so, and she knew if they were somewhere else, Nikolai would have frowned and whined something back. But it wasn’t the time for it.

With one last squeeze to her wrist, he finally let go, straightening the lapels of his coat to show his disappointment on how the negotiation had gone. He cast one last glance to the Demidov caporegime before taking his leave and going to the restroom. Zoya let her gaze follow him until he disappeared around a corner.

Please don't be a moron and find it, she thought before standing up as well, reaching for his suitcase that was carelessly lying on the floor.

One of Anton's guards, which she recognized as his right hand man, approached the table. He had a skeptical gaze on her, like he was readying himself to defend his boss if ever she decided to suddenly do something.

She gave the man a cold smile, amusement bubbling in her chest when she saw him wince and look away to turn to his boss.

Zoya took the moment to glance at the twins and give them the smallest of nods. They immediately understood, with Tamar moving away from their spot to come nearer to the table. Tolya remained in his position, but he already had his hand braced on the holster around his hips.

"That Consigliere of yours," Anton started, making Zoya look back at him. His second was holding up the coat to him, and he turned to shrug it on back to his shoulders. "He really does love talking, doesn't he? It might be the reason he gets killed one day.”

As if I would let that happen. It made her eyebrows furrow, her gaze narrowing dangerously to the caporegime. He had been making a lot of subtle threats to them, and Zoya wasn’t letting it slide. Only one family would be walking out from this place tonight.

And it wasn’t going to be the Demidovs.

“Worry not, Anton,” said Zoya, her cold smile returning, “I’ll make sure to tell him that.”

“Tell me what?” Nikolai’s too cheery voice echoed a moment later, and Zoya turned to his direction and saw him approaching them. He had stripped off his long coat, leaving him in his shirt and tie. Her eyes went to the coat he was holding. The way it was folded on his hand looked enough for it to conceal something, and she could only assume he found it.

“Nothing of importance, dearest Consigliere,” Zoya mused, reaching for her own coat hanging on the chair’s backrest. “Just some gibberish, though I can tell you about it later.”

Nikolai chuckled. “I do hope it’s not something alarming,” he said. Then he stepped in front of her, his hand catching her wrist again to stop her from putting on her coat. Then with a small smile that softened his features, he murmured, “Let me.”

She let him take her coat from her hand, and gently, he helped her slip it on. To others, it would look like a normal sight; a man assisting his Underboss like any other members of the family would. But if one were to look closely, it was actually just an act to cover something up.

Zoya looked up at his eyes with mock respect when there was the familiar weight of a weapon being slipped back to her shoulder holster. Nikolai made a face in return.

I found it, he mouthed with a wince. Then he tugged at the lapels of the coat a bit roughly, as if to get back at her for doubting him, and it earned a glare from Zoya. He smiled innocently, then his hands came up to the back of her neck to free her hair that was caught up in the collar. She tried not to get distracted by his ministrations, but she found it hard when he reached her collar, fixing it down to make it presentable. They were too close, the act anything if not intimate, and her breath hitched in her throat when his fingers lingered a moment too long on the side of her neck.

Then she felt the soft brush of his thumb against her jaw; it was enough to stop her thoughts altogether.

But Nikolai only winked, a cheeky smile evident on his lips before he stepped back. Zoya wanted nothing more than to strangle him right then. But then again, it wasn’t the time for it. Perhaps later.

She regained her stoic composure, walking over to Anton Demidov who had been completely oblivious of the exchange. It was only out of respect that she still would end their meeting with a handshake. If there was something she refused to let go in her morals, it was respect.

Zoya held her hand out to Anton. The man was hesitant, but still took it anyway. “Well, I bid you farewell, Sir Demidov,” she said with a cutting smile, her grip tightening around his hand enough for him to look alarmed. “It’s a pleasure having the chance to talk to you.”

Then her other hand reached to her holster, grabbed the gun Nikolai had put there, and shot Anton Demidov in the leg.

The man crumpled down on the floor, a scream tearing from his throat as he clutched at his wound. Horror was evident in his gaze as he looked up at her. His right-hand didn’t have time to draw his weapon when another shot rang out from somewhere behind Zoya, hitting the man on his shooting arm, and he dropped to the ground as well. Anton’s several other guards with them started to spring to action, but it was the exact time that all the people dining in the restaurant stood up, drawing out their own weapons and surrounding the Demidov associates.

Outside, gunfire echoed as well. Then after a few moments, it went silent again.

Zoya looked around the expanse of the room. Anton’s remaining guards stood completely frozen in their places as dozens of guns pointed to their direction. She hummed in approval and looked over her shoulder, seeing Tamar still holding her gun to the right-hand man’s direction.

Thanks, Zoya mouthed to the woman, who in return tipped her head in acknowledgement.

“As I’ve said earlier,” she started, waving the barrel of her gun down to Anton’s face, “it would not be a fair fight.”

“What—what is the meaning of this?” Anton demanded, his voice quivering in both terror and pain. He tried to back away from Zoya, but someone had already stopped him with a foot on his shoulder.

She looked up and saw the woman who wore the bright red overcoat that made her eyes hurt, and Zoya gave her an unamused look. “Something a bit tamer next time, Genya?” she said. “It’s a bit overwhelming to look at. Maybe a maroon.”

Genya laughed lightly. “Of course, anything you say, sir.”

Zoya nodded in gratitude before she turned back to Anton, who was still on the ground. “This night could have gone well, you know? All we wanted was your approval for a ceasefire. But here you were, acting all too smug for a family whose reputation is almost down the drain and making empty threats that you have no power to do.” She stepped forward, jabbing her foot down the man’s injured leg and earning another scream from him. “Well, wasn’t it you who pulled the trigger on the Don? Now man up, take it like a champ.”

“How” —Anton wheezed out in pain— “how is this possible? My men have frisked you and your Consigliere.”

Nikolai appeared beside her, looking casual in his posture as if he had come to a reunion with some old friends. “Simple. You don’t check the customers coming into your business,” he explained. “Another civilian could enter the same restroom earlier before the Consigliere, and he could have slipped a weapon and taped it under the sink.” He shook his head with a dramatic sigh. “Only goes to show how shit your security is, by the way.”

The Demidov caporegime could only look at them in disbelief, his eyes going back and forth to Zoya and her Consigliere. Then a laugh escaped him, the loud, desperate kind of a madman. She almost pitied him. The feeling of being backed against the corner having nothing other than yourself to trust and lean on.

She would commend this man for fighting tooth and nail for his Family’s survival and reputation, and yet he had chosen the wrong way to do it by trying to assassinate one of the biggest Dons in the country and starting a war. There were some battles that were out of one’s reach and power, and it had been the Demidovs to take the risk and lose everything to their wrong decisions.

Anton continued laughing for another long moment, his breaths becoming more labored the longer he laughed. Then when it seemed that he finally ran out of air, he looked back up to her. If Zoya was expecting to see defeat in his eyes, then she was so wrong.

Because in them, she saw nothing but cold fury, the kind that brought a lingering feeling of dread in your chest. If she were some other person, she was sure she would have cowered back and let fear take over.

But that was before she knew what horrors the world they lived in now did to young and naive girls. Fear was one’s shadow, something they could never go against nor get rid of, so she learned how to wield it as her weapon instead.

“What are you going to do now? Kill me?” Anton said, another laugh escaping his lips. He had already gone pale from the loss of blood, but he continued. “Killing me would only make things worse. It’s not going to change anything.”

Nikolai pretended to consider a thought, his eyebrows furrowing. “You’re right,” he said. “But I think I have an idea.” He stepped forward, and Zoya handed him her gun.

Without wasting another second, he pointed the gun to Anton’s other leg and pulled the trigger. The beginning of a howl tore from the caporegime’s throat, and he hadn’t even had the chance to fully voice out his pain when Nikolai shot him again on the shoulder.

Zoya blinked in surprise, the gears in her mind working as she looked back to Nikolai. Gone was the diplomatic look of the Consigliere, only the face of the Demon Prince remained, the same persona that terrorized the streets of Halmhend City for years. His eyes held a dangerous glint that she only saw him have for his sworn enemies.

“That’s not even the same number of bullets my father took when you tried to murder him in the open,” Nikolai said mildly. “But don’t worry, I made sure not to hit you anywhere critical. Killing you will get you an easy way out. I don’t want that.” He kneeled down beside Anton, leaning dangerously close to the man with the barrel of the gun planted on his chest. “I want you to see how your Family despises you because you couldn’t let go of your ego and accept that you’ve made a grave mistake. I’ve offered a ceasefire, but you didn’t take it. So I guess you’d rather take a few bullets, then?”

Through his labored breathing and pained state, Anton still managed to glare at the Consigliere. The man’s got determination, Zoya would give him that. But he had made the worst decision of having Nikolai as his enemy.

There was another tense silence, and then Nikolai was laughing lightly, patting the caporegime on the cheek. Just like that, he was back to the cheerful Consigliere persona. “I like this one,” he told Anton’s right-hand man who lay a few feet away from them, a look of fear in his eyes. “Fiery soul. Make sure he’s back to his feet in a few days, alright? I want to see what Irina would do to him.”

Zoya shook her head and watched as Nikolai stood up and handed back the gun to her. He looked back at her with a confused expression.

“What?”

“Nothing. Remind me again not to strangle you next time you do something brash?” She turned to their men who were still patiently waiting for their next order. “Get them out to the other side of the street. Make sure they’re easily seen by their colleagues when they arrive.”

Their men immediately did as they were told, shuffling out of the restaurant quietly as they dragged the Demidov Family’s associates to the streets. Tamar and Tolya waited for the both of them by the front doors.

“Was that even necessary?” Zoya asked the Consigliere, who shrugged in return.

“It’s only fair I’ve wounded him. It’s nothing compared to the men he’d killed in the ambush as we haven’t even taken any of his men’s heads.” Nikolai said, putting his long coat back on. “I have actually talked to Irina Demidov yesterday. She told me to get rid of him.”

Having a talk with the Demidov’s Underboss only meant bad news. “Really?”

“Yeah, but I’ll let them handle it. Besides, they twist the fact that we killed one of their caporegime against us. We both know their history.”

Zoya huffed. “Good thinking,” she said.

“There’s a reason why I am indeed a Consigliere, Nazyalensky,” said Nikolai, feigning a hurtful look. “I’m not all talk and no action.”

“Yeah, sure. Whatever you say.” She paused when her eyes caught sight of the messed up knot of his tie. Her hands were already reaching to fix it before she could even realize what she was doing, and she heard his breath hitch in his throat. At least she wasn’t the only one who got caught off guard when the other was near.

She finally finished straightening his tie after a few more moments, patting down at his collar for emphasis. “There you go,” said Zoya. Her voice coming out a bit breathless than she intended was something she hadn’t expected from herself. “Now we’re even.” She stepped back, putting a bit of distance between them and looking anywhere but him. “Let’s get out of here before the Demidovs arrive to get their associates.”

***

And as the car sped into the distance some time later, the place where the restaurant the Demidovs owned was now nothing but ashes on the ground.

#zoyalai #zoya nazyalensky #nikolai lantsov #king of scars #my writing #mafia au #LET'S GO #VINCENZO ENERGY IS STRONG #idk this isn't edited we die like soldiers #anyways #i've had this for like a week and i just finished it tonight #i said i wanted mafia au #so i wrote mafia au #have this mess from me #IM BACK THO #i hope ;-;#im a basic bitch and can't think of proper names #im sorry for that #T-T

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jungkookiebus · 4 years

Text

Quarantined | jjk

Genre: smut x fluff x slice of life Rating: 18+ Pairing: nonidol!jungkook x reader Word Count: 4.1k Warnings: food play (maybe there’s some peaches), cunnilingus, unprotected sex, ass play, creampie, squirting, reader is blindfolded, sickeningly sweet domesticity. Summary: With your city effectively under quarantine to help stop the spread of the new virus, you find yourself in a, at least, two week period of isolation with your live-in boyfriend, Jungkook. During a quick trip for groceries, Jungkook picks up something that just so happens to pair well with the taste of your skin. Author’s Note: this is just a little slice of life fun for people to have during our mandatory quarantines and self-isolations. Much love and I hope everyone is staying safe! I wrote this for my boo @bulletproofbirdy

My stories are on tumblr only. Do not repost or plagiarize in any way.

“Well, that settles it!” Jungkook said as he threw the remote on the ramen laden coffee table. “QUARANTINED!”

You were still staring at the tv, watching the news. Your city was in lockdown, effective immediately. Police were soon to be patrolling, making sure no one was making any “non-essential” trips. You saw him pick up his phone out of the corner of your eye; probably going into the work group chat. You lived five blocks away from work, which was a local bar. Jungkook bartended and you served. You were known as The Couple™, having met at the bar when you first worked together, eight years ago. There were the “old” employees, the ones that had been there as long as you or longer, and the newbies. For girls, Jungkook was always the first employee they clung to. How could anyone blame them? Muscles for days, tattoos on almost every available surface, piercings, and a sweet personality that made every girl, and the occasional guy, swoon. You’d watch playfully from a distance as a new waitress would lean against the bar talking to him before open. Jungkook would always make polite conversation, going about his duties, and preparing for the night. The girl would usually pretend to be folding napkins but would sometimes fold the same one five times. She’d tried to get her boobs in her over padded bra to nestle against the bar surface. You’d laugh as Jungkook would look anywhere but there, grabbing a glass and setting it out. This always played out the same way. Jungkook would look up, spot you wherever you were and call out.

“Hey, babe!” he’d say as he threw up his hand.

The girl at the bar would slowly swivel around, searching the room for whoever he was talking to. You’d stop and gesture to yourself as if asking, ‘me?’

“Who else, you goose?” he’d start to wave emphatically for you to come over.

So, you’d set down whatever you were doing and make your way to and around the bar. He always did something a little different, but this time his hand came in contact with your waist first, then he slid it slowly around your back until he almost circled you. He’d draw you in closer to him and place a kiss usually to your lips, but sometimes your cheek or forehead, then he’d smile down at you and then the girl.

“This is _____. She’ll be your shift lead tonight so whatever she says goes and if you need help, she’s your girl.”

He’d look at you proudly again, arm still around your waist. This sickening display was usually enough for them to never try again.

“What is everyone saying?” you asked, still half watching the news.

“Well, Yeol is saying we’re definitely closed. Some people are pissed. I get it, but damn am I excited to have a break.”

“This is serious,” you said now looking at him.

He looked up from his phone at you. “I didn’t say it wasn’t, but aren’t you the least bit excited to have some time off?”

You had to admit it was something you desperately needed, just under different circumstances. He put his phone back on the table as he scooted closer to you and reached across to the opposite thigh and rested his hand there. He leaned in close to your ear and you shivered a little bit as his breath tickled you.

“Plus, you get to hang out with me for two weeks,” he whispered.

“Ugh, Jungkook, you perv.” You slapped his hand on your thigh and he pulled away giggling. He settled back into the cushions on the other end and started poking your side with his toe. You rolled your eyes and ignored him as you looked at your phone to see what the others were saying.

Four days into quarantine and you guys needed groceries.

“Let’s go together and we can haul back whatever we can carry,” Jungkook said as he shrugged on his coat by the front door.

You were getting slightly stir crazy anyway. There was only so many people you could kill on Sims before it got boring and listening to Jungkook yell into his headphones while playing Overwatch got old fast. He was enjoying this time to upgrade every character he had in every game he played.

The walk to the store was eerily quiet. Very few people were out on the sidewalks. You adjusted your mask as Jungkook took your hand and stayed close. The store was surprisingly not busy and there was still a good stock of product. Jungkook grabbed a basket, wiping it down with provided wipes, and sidled up beside you.

“Split up?” you asked.

“Heck no!”

He was smiling when you looked up at him, eyes crinkling, and you wished you could see his smile right now.

“If I see someone who I even think has the virus, I’m picking you up and running out of here.”

“Fine,” you said dramatically as you stuck your hand into his coat pocket.

Once in produce, you grabbed the usual. You came back to the cart with lettuce, tomatoes, and some potatoes as Jungkook was tying up a bag of peaches.

“Since when do you eat peaches?” you asked as you screwed up your face.

His face reddened and you wondered what had gotten into him.

“I-I like them. Silly.” He reached out, thumped you on the forehead, and all you could do was laugh. So what if he liked them? It didn’t even cross your mind again.

Forty-five minutes later and you made it back to your apartment, bags draped on all arms, and breathing heavily while the blood was cut off to your fingers. You sighed loudly as you dropped all the bags on the counter and stood there for a second before struggling to get your arms out.

“We should be set for a while,” Jungkook said as he started to take things out of bags.

With shared effort, the groceries were put away fast and Jungkook was suddenly excusing himself to go take a shower as he ran away. You weren’t sure why he was acting so weird. Maybe being cooped up in the house and then being suddenly let out in public had fucked with his brain. You didn’t think twice as you sat down to play the new Animal Crossing.

“Your turn!” he yelled, causing you to jump as he came out in a towel. His hair was still dripping, and you took a second to drink him in. Damn he looked good.

“Okay? I’ll go later.”

He sounded exasperated; like a child as he huffed.

“But I want you to go now.”

You sat the Switch down and looked up at him.

“What’s wrong with you?”

He pouted as you stared at him. Fucking ass.

“Fine,” you said, standing from the couch. A smile broke out across his face and you saw him dance a little bit. “Only because you made that stupid face now get out of my way.”

You half expected him to come in the bathroom and play some prank on you, but your shower was peaceful. You even took your time since he wanted you to take one so badly. It wasn’t like you weren’t showering. Yea, you were in quarantine, but that didn’t stop you from practicing good hygiene. What you did discover as you got out of the shower, though, was that your clothes were gone. You rolled your eyes as you opened the bathroom door, letting the steam out into the hallway as you walked, towel wrapped around you.

“Jungkook seriously?!” you yelled as you moved fast down the hall to your bedroom. “Hiding my clothes. That’s rich. Why did you-“

You were cut short as you walked into the doorway. Jungkook was fully naked and sprawled out across the bed. He was never one to shy away from being nude, but his behavior had been so weird today.

“Do you…possibly have the virus?” you asked.

“What?” he said, sitting up now.

“You’re losing it.”

“No,” he said while standing. He walked over to you and grabbed the front of your towel and snatched it away.

“Hey!”

“We’re gonna have some fun.” He pulled you in quickly, chest crashing into his as your naked body became flush against him.

You could practically feel the water rise off you as your body heated. It was humid and sticky between you, but his skin moved smoothly against yours. His toned muscles moved rigidly against your nipples and you moaned. His hands smoothed down your back until he was grabbing your ass cheeks in his hands. His fingers were calloused, but his touch was always soft, so gentle. He treated you just rough enough, knowing your limits instinctively. But even when he was rough, there was always love behind his touch. You felt him grow harder against your stomach and you suddenly realized how long it had been since you got to touch him. With the increasing fear of the outside world, you had completely forgotten about the one you had inside. Your arms were around him, fingernails digging into his shoulder blades. His lips were on yours; just a little chapped but uniquely his, so pouty. His tongue was minty with a hint of cherry chapstick. He moaned into your mouth as your tongue flicked just behind his teeth. You grew just the more wet as he became absolutely rigid against you. His fingernails dug deliciously into your ass cheeks; his grip suggesting that he was trying to get as close to your core as possible; his cock like a magnet to you.

He pulled away with a hooded gaze. His eyes flickered to your strawberry red lips, your cheeks dusted in the same color, and a slight glaze over your eyes.

“Can I play with you?”

You nodded dumbly. He could have whatever he wanted. You weren’t sure why he still asked. Always the gentleman. He smiled sweetly, almost too sweet. He grabbed your wrist as he stepped towards the bed. He produced a black sash, his grin so sickeningly sweet that you wanted to object to this, but you didn’t.

“Lights out, doodle bug,” he said while holding it up.

“Don’t call me that right now,” you sneered as you stepped forward.

“Alright,” he said as he wrapped it around your head and started to tie, his voice husky, “baby girl, I don’t want you seeing what I’m doing.”

You gasped as he jerked the knot tightly, his breath hot on your cheek.

“Now, lay back and relax, okay?”

You sat on the bed comfortably, situating yourself on the pillows in the middle of the bed. You heard Jungkook’s soft movements around you. Then, the light dip in the bed and then deeper as he crawled a little closer to you. He straddled your hips just right so that his balls hung against your pussy while his cock lay heavy atop you. Jungkook dug his thumbs under your jaw, pushing it back as his lips attached to the column of your throat. He kissed and nipped lightly, your body alight with goosebumps as your other senses were sent into overdrive. He moved down quickly, dipping his tongue into your collarbone. His fingers skated quickly across your nipples and they hardened, only flicking his tongue across them briefly. You groaned as he didn’t pay too much attention to anything, obviously teasing you.

“Baby,” you moaned.

“Hm?”

“Is your idea of playing teasing me?”

“Of course not.”

You felt him move slightly. Was he reaching for something? That was when you heard the soft, fibrous crunch. At first you told yourself you were hearing things, surely some outside city noise sounded similar. Then you heard it again and a soft slurp. His hand moved off your waist and when it came back it was sticky.

“Are...are you eating?”

He leaned forward, capturing your lips

Peaches.

He tasted so strongly of peaches. The taste that was naturally Jungkook mixed with the soft fruit, had you rubbing your thighs. He groaned as your soft skin encased his balls. He sucked your bottom lip into his mouth and bit down hard before letting go.

“Be a good girl.”

He held a piece of fruit to your mouth and you opened immediately, accepting the fruit slowly. You heard him moan as he pushed it into your mouth. You chewed slowly before swallowing the fresh fruit. You gasped slightly as you felt the cool wetness against your skin. He skimmed it across your chest and circled it around one of your nipples. Within seconds his lips were attached, moaning as he licked the sweet fruit from your skin. Your body was so hot. He kept you pinned at the hips, but your back arched off the bed as he suckled at the skin around your nipple. As his tongue worked the underside of your breast, he had the fruit at your mouth once more, pushing it past your lips. This time, as soon as you were done chewing, he slid his fingers into your mouth, and you sucked the stickiness of his skin. He breathed heavily against your chest as you sucked, bobbing your head much like you had done on his cock hundreds of times. Sometimes at home, sometimes in public. He pulled his fingers from your mouth slowly, dragging your bottom lip down, and his tongue was in your mouth again. He kissed you deeply, hands roaming down your waist and to your hips. Your hips canted upwards slightly under his weight. You wanted him inside you so badly and he was so close. His hand was on your jaw, squeezing lightly.

“I said be a good girl.”

It sucked that you couldn’t see him but fuck your touch sense was rooted straight to your core and Jungkook was delivering. You tried to imagine what he looked like right now. Surely he was sweating. He was always so worked up around you that his self-control caused him to sweat, his dark hair sticking to his forehead and neck. His tattoos would glow that special way they only did in the low lights of your bedroom, in each other’s arms, and connected in more ways than one. The one you loved the most was the watercolor galaxy. Bursts of purples, pinks, and deep blues were splattered across his skin, dotted in stars and planets. It sparkled spectacularly when Jungkook fucked you.

He got off you, sliding back on your legs and suddenly you felt cold despite the heat rising inside of you. You dug your fingers into the blankets as you lost contact with him. You liked feeling his skin against your hands. He got in between your legs and pushed them apart with his knees as he sat deeper. He massaged the skin of your thighs, bit by bit as he started above your knee. By the time he got anywhere close to your center you were already whimpering.

“Shhhh,” he whispered as he now kneaded your hips.

You pursed your lips tightly, hands digging just a little deeper into the blankets. Once again, you thought you were imagining things when you felt the first drip. But the definite second, then third, then almost a small drizzle until your pussy was dripping with not only your slick told you you weren’t dreaming. Jungkook spread you with his pointer and middle finger as he dripped more on your clit. More peaches were all you could presume. He planted his hands on your thighs as he moved backwards, and you felt him move to lay in front of you. He spread you as fully as he could before running his tongue up your center, collecting some of you and the peach on his tongue. He curled it around your clit for a second before flicking it back into his mouth and swallowing. His lips came apart with a smacking sound as he repeated the action, lapping at you like a thirsty puppy at a water bowl. Your whimpers became louder. His fingers dug a little harder. He dipped his tongue inside of your dripping pussy, the whole half of his face sticky against your skin. He fucked your tight walls with his tongue, moving so that his nose brushed softly against your clit. You wanted to grind down into his face. You wanted to ride his face, but this was his play time. He laved his tongue a few more moments before moving to enclose his lips around your clit, suckling it as he stuck two sticky fingers inside of you. Tears slipped from your eyes and quickly soaked into the fabric. Your breath caught in your chest as he started to thrust his fingers, hooking them perfectly against your g-spot. You saw white behind your eyes as you dug your fingers into his hair. He moaned again, fingers squelching inside of you lewdly, tongue working overtime on your clit.

“Ngh-h, ah, f-uuck,” you breathed out, body shuddering inward as your hips worked up into his face. You were so fucking close, body going rigid, and about to fucking fall when he disappeared.

“What-,“ you had wanted to protest. You really did. You were ready to fight him. Rip the blindfold off and possibly find the closest book and heave it at him. You were plotting his death and funeral in one thought and were about to give him a piece of your mind as he slammed his cock inside of you, sending you blindingly into the orgasm that your body held onto. You cried out, loudly, completely caught off guard and blown away by how fast he had moved and sent you over the edge with one move. Your body was so tense that your toes cramped and your grip on the sheets was deadly. His hands stayed on your waist keeping you grounded to the here and now. He didn’t move and he didn’t speak as you came down. Only when your body began to relax did he begin to move. You cried just a little, your pussy was so sensitive now, but you loved the feeling of him inside you. He picked your left leg up, straightened it, and pushed it to the side causing you to move to your side. He grabbed your ass cheek in one hand, using the other on your thigh as leverage. He started to fuck you faster and your body practically bounced on his cock as he moved you amongst the blankets. His grunts and soft sighs were like music to you. You imagined his face again. His eyes were probably closed, head tilted back slightly, mouth open with that lopsided bottom lip glistening with spit. His hair would look wet as the sweat permeated it, but he would still be so beautiful. His short fingernails barely created pain against your skin as his fingers dug deeper and deeper. His pointer and middle finger of his left hand were at your lips again. The slight dip he took to reach you caused his cock to hit a little deeper and you moaned loudly around his fingers as you sucked. He began to thrust his fingers a little harder in your mouth, pushing just a little deeper until he was hitting your gag reflex. Every few pushes of his fingers, he’d have you gagging around them until you were drooling on the sheets. Just as quickly as he was gagging you, he pulled his fingers from your mouth, pulled your ass cheek up and his fingers found your asshole quickly, pushing them, layered in your own spit, into your ass. You buried your face into the wet sheets as much as you could as you moaned. His pace in your pussy maintained the entire time as he now pushed further and further into your ass. You shuddered involuntarily as he seemed to be hitting some very sensitive nerve endings. You reached towards him, hand finding his wrist as he clutched your thigh again. His skin was so wet that you were having trouble holding on to him and it didn’t help that your palms were sweating. He was working his fingers into your ass in short thrusts as he slammed his dick into you. Your clit was throbbing, and you wished more than anything you could touch it right now, but you knew Jungkook could make you come like this. His moans would sometimes match his thrusts. Other times he would growl as he thrust a little faster. His skin slapped against yours, balls hitting that junction between your ass and thigh. Your cunt became vice like around him and thankfully he was balls deep. All he could do was move his hips, stimulating you from within. He was just on the other side of your g-spot in your ass, causing an array of sensations that had you drooling again.

He leaned down again, changing his angle. His wet stomach was against your hip and lower waist and it felt as if his cock were in your stomach. Under the blindfold, your eyes were fluttering shut as they rolled back. His breaths were short, but not the least bit labored. Sweat dripped from his brow and chin, dripping across your shoulder.

“Come on my fucking cock,” he growled.

That was the push you didn’t know you needed. You came hard. Gushing around his cock, hard. Jungkook was moaning in pure satisfaction as you wet his cock and the sheets. He had pulled his fingers from your ass without you noticing and he was gripping your ass again as he moved slowly. He kissed the skin on your shoulder as he breathed heavily. Your fingers were beginning to relax their grip on the covers.

“What a good girl,” he whispered. His lips skimmed across your upper arm.

You had a little mental clarity to envision him again. His pupils are probably blown. He’s so hard, close to bursting inside of you, but he’s showing the best restraint. His skin is most definitely flushed. Jungkook was famous for turning cherry red when embarrassed, but when aroused, his body glowed with it. He’s going to need another shower.

He pulled out of you, leaving you empty and fluttering around nothing. He moved you to your stomach, locking your legs together with his and slid his cock into you from behind. He laid his chest against your back, hooked his arm around your neck, and sat his chin on your shoulder. His thrusts were slow again, working their way speed up as you felt his painfully swollen cock slide in and out of your used pussy, still so tight around him after everything. His hand slid over your mouth as he bit down hard on the side of your neck. Your loud groan was muffled behind his hand as he thrust faster. His lips and tongue were soothing over the spot. The sting lessened as he lapped at your salty skin. He kissed up your neck and behind your ear. His breath was deep and loud in your ear as he got to the pace he needed. Now was about him as you squeezed around him. He moaned, hand tightening over your mouth. His mouth was open against your ear and the heat from it added moisture to your skin. He put his fingers into your mouth again and you dutifully sucked. You imagined the head of his cock as the pads of his fingers moved across your tongue.

Before he came you heard him whisper softly, ”Fuck, ______.” He groaned deeply as he came inside of you, uninhibited. He filled you up and more, leaking out around himself and wetting the blankets further. Slowly, he released his fingers from your mouth, and he let you drop your head to the bed. He rested against your shoulder blade, too tired to move and frankly, at this point, you didn’t care. As long as you were somewhere soft and prone, you were happy. You had your arms stretched out to either side, releasing some of the tension from your shoulders. Jungkook ran his hand from your shoulder, down your arm, and intertwined your fingers, his hand on top of yours.

“Who would have thought,” he began, “a pandemic would make me want to rub peaches on you.”

“Maybe for the next one you can use cured meats.” You voice was muffled amongst the fabric.

“God, you’re disgusting.”

“I love you, too.”

“I wouldn’t want be quarantined with anybody else.” You heard the smile in his voice as he said it and, in his lips, as he kissed the side of your neck.

Yea, you guessed isolation wasn’t so bad.

#bangtanarmynet #ksmutclub #smutcentralnet #btswriterscollective #ficswithluv #bts smut #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #slice of life #nonidol!jungkook #jungkook x reader #reader insert #bts #jungkook #quarantined #18+#bts fics

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forasecondtherewedwon · 3 years

Photo

The Man in the Spoon

Pairing: Peter Parker x Michelle Jones (Spideychelle) Rating: E Word Count: 1683

This is a submission for Thotumn, organized by @spideysmjs!!! Today’s prompt: Early Morning.

Summary: Peter keeps waking up as the little spoon.

“How does this happen?” Peter wonders, his first words of the day only slightly less formless than a hum. “I’m always the big spoon when I fall asleep.”

MJ laughs softly from behind him and continues kissing languidly across his shoulder. Their cheap curtains suck—too sheer for the slice of sunlight that greets them every morning, hot and golden as a cheesy piece of pizza—and she’s woken him up outlining the rhomboid of light with her lips. She kisses again where his skin is bright orange and he presses back against her mouth. Funny how he can sound like he’s complaining with the way he loves her sleepy shows of affection.

“It’s because I curl around you in my sleep. I have an instinctual desire to protect you, Puppy.”

She can get away with the nickname this early.

“Really?” He sighs happily as she makes her way to his neck.

“No. It happens because you sleep really deeply after coming home from a mission and it’s easy to crawl over you so I can do this…”

The hand MJ was resting lightly on his hip slips down, easing the elastic waist of his boxers away from his abdomen and reaching in to stroke him where he’s predictably hot with sleep and half-hard with whatever position he dreamed her into last night. Peter groans, rough and delicious, the sound like an aural spiral of shaved chocolate. As if she wasn’t already wet from the anticipation. It pleases her to please him.

“Did you do good?” she asks so softly into his ear.

“Home in one piece,” he breathes, totally relaxed against her as he trusts her to do what she likes.

“I’m so proud of you.”

MJ returns to kissing his neck, occasionally catching his skin between her teeth and giving a short tug, just to hear him suck in air. She cups the head of his dick. Feeling the wetness against her palm, she rubs in an unhurried circling motion, smearing him with his own arousal before taking him in her fist again and spreading it down his length. He makes a guttural noise, throat going taut under her lips.

“How come you’re not this sweet all the time, huh?” Peter asks, bucking his hips shallowly into her grip.

“I do the laundry when you leave your regular clothes all over the place in your rush to scamper out of here to be Spider-Man, don’t I?”

“Yeah.”

She leans up on her elbow to watch his face; his lips are parted, his cheeks flushed. Eyes: closed.

“Well, isn’t that sweet?” But MJ goes on before her husband, with his bliss-scrambled brain, can reply. “I don’t watch ahead on any of our favourite shows without you. I’ve improved my aim enough to throw at least three out of five darts right into the forehead of the picture of Jameson we keep on the back of the bathroom door. Those are sweet gestures.”

Peter chuckles airily at that, then moans. He taps the shoulder he’s lying on and she sneaks her hand through in the sweaty crook between his neck and the pillow, tangling their fingers together.

“Nobody asked you to do that,” he reminds her.

“But I take pleasure in it,” she says casually into the underside of his jaw. “Speaking of. The things I do for you when you get home safe and I’m still up… Sweet, right?” MJ twists her wrists and pumps faster.

“Not sweet,” Peter gasps. “Those things are not sweet, and a lotta them are more like things you do to me.”

“I don’t remember hearing this pickiness when I was blowing you last Wednesday.”

“I was barely through the window! I still had the suit around my ankles.”

He makes a needy noise and she shakes their locked hands apart to run hers down his opposite arm, finding where he has a firm grip on their fitted sheet. She relocates that hold to the back of her head, helping him tumble into the memory by letting him dig his fingers into her hair and tug like he did that night.

“I was glad to see you.”

“You let me come—” He chokes. “—come down your throat.”

“I was very glad to see you.”

“God, yes,” Peter mutters, rocking through her fingers. “God, MJ, yes.”

“See, that’s more the kind of thing I remember hearing.”

He breaks every hold but the one he has on her heart when he flips over and pins her. Though the movement is rapid, it’s unaggressive; his posture melts down like he can seep into her skin. With he way he’s crazy about her, that might be exactly what Peter believes. MJ shuffles her legs apart under his weight, grateful when he rests naturally between her thighs, grateful that he’s home. They don’t need to acknowledge her nudity. His boxers are an issue though.

“You gonna take these off?” she wonders between slow, seeking kisses, snapping at the band.

“I guess it’s looking like I probably should.”

“Unless you don’t feel like being involved. I could just…” MJ grazes her hand down. Her knuckles bump against his erection as she draws uneven rings around her clit. She doesn’t touch it yet, but he doesn’t need to know that: she moans his name for effect.

Immediately, he’s kicking and fumbling his way out of his boxers, tearing the sheet off them both in the doing, and allowing the sun to stripe their skin in more generous swaths.

But when he goes in, he’s slow. Their foreheads meet. She shakes as he smoothly angles her hips with his hand. Delicately, she scratches up the back of his head. This small relief is a familiar secret between them; no one else would guess that Spider-Man’s scalp tingles when his mask’s been pressing his hair down a certain way for too long. With fleeting brushes, Peter starts in on what he considers the only proper process for kissing her in the morning. MJ’s patient with him. She got the spooning, the neck kisses, the grope down the front of his shorts. She got him home, alive. He can do what he likes.

Light glints off his ring. He doesn’t always remember to slip it back on when he drags himself home from patrol, but when he does, she appreciates it. Pictures him patting at the surface of the dresser in the dark, looking down at her, asleep in their bed, and feeling so connected, even more when he wears the ring she was the first to put on him. No matter how many times he takes it off when he leaves in the suit—because he’s afraid of losing it, because he’s terrified of soiling it with blood on the nights he punches through glass or brick or flesh until his knuckles tear or his fingers break or he cuts up the back of his hand in an unintentional pattern of ragged spiderwebs—she smiles to see he’s put it back on.

MJ turns her head to kiss his hand, undamaged, running her lips over the ring as well. There’s an adoring whine that comes out of him like it’s been thickening in his chest, ready for the inevitable moment when he’d need to use it. She doesn’t just call him ‘Puppy’ because it begins with the same letter as his name.

While he’s making this sound, the sound she associates with unconditional love, he thrusts tranquilly. The work he does on her is unlike what he does in the city at night. There are no closing windows of opportunity with them as MJ massages the back of his neck between her fingers and thumb, kneading out towards his shoulder. He doesn’t need to dart from place to place. Apart from sleeping, this is the longest he might spend in one spot all day. Her husband hefts her hips a little higher and her chest heaves. She tightens her stomach to grind her clit against him.

“Feel good today?” he asks.

“It’s you,” she says, tingling and open. There is no time in their past or future, MJ’s sure, when he won’t feel good inside her.

“You feel unbelievable.”

Though, for an unbelievable feeling, Peter has a lot to say about it when he kisses her cheek and murmurs admiration into her ear. He keeps his tone soft, his voice level as the kick of his hips produces short, stern strokes that have her shaking. Letting the arm holding him up buckle at the elbow, he lowers himself onto her. No more space. He clutches her hip and grinds against her clit, never quite catching his breath with his face tucking into her neck. His humid panting and the heat of his body, the warm place in the blankets where they’ve been sleeping, it’s all too hot to bear. Still, MJ gasps, “More,” and his arm winds beneath her to grab at her back. She lets her own arms flop limply onto the sheet until he’s thrusting so fast that she throws them around his waist, howling his name to the ceiling and the sun.

Through her orgasm, she can hear and feel how he’s barely hanging on, body tense and groans curling towards sobs. She loves him so.

“Let’s see it, Big Spoon,” MJ taunts playfully, hair snarled across the pillow and heart still pounding.

Peter snorts a laugh before climaxing in jerky jolts that clap her between a pair of cymbals, the sensation of his final thrusts rippling through her. Pulling him close, she kisses at his slack mouth. Gradually, he relearns how to kiss her back, and his hand slides up to cradle her head. He holds on a moment too long—he always does—and they separate with greedy inhalations.

“I slept really well last night,” Peter huffs, “with you curled around me.”

“And how were your dreams?”

He trails his thumb along the curve of her cheek and MJ flattens his hand against her face to keep him there. She tips her chin up in inquiry. Peter smiles.

“Sweet.”

#thotumn #my writing #spideychelle #spideychelle fanfiction #peter parker #peter x mj #peter x michelle #peter parker x michelle jones #michelle jones

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vanaera · 4 years

Text

𝐌𝐲 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞 | 𝟎𝟐 | 𝐣𝐣𝐤

Synopsis: A future technology allows cops to jump in the past and future to investigate crimes that have happened and prepare for those that are about to happen. A simple hit-and-run turns into something more when Captain Jeon Jungkook finds himself as the victim of a culprit who cannot be identified by the system. Especially when the culprit seems to be the same person behind the new case that’s threatening the order in the justice organization. All goes haywire when Jungkook gets involved with Y/N L/N, the clairvoyant sketch artist who may be his only help to solve the case.

Characters: Jungkook x Female Reader

Genre/AU: Sci-fi, romance, angst, mystery, action (cop!JK x artist!you), based on the movie Minority Report

Wordcount: 8.2k

Warnings: Dark themes and implied smut (in future chapters); heavy descriptions of a hit-and-run; mentions of blood from injuries (PG-16 Rating)

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𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐀𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐭

The skies were gray and the streets were damp and yet the air remains humid. The scorching heat on the pavement permeates the soles of his leather combat boots. It’s the familiar stench of Down Hill. Jungkook could already smell it when he’s just reaching the boundary between it and Middle Town.

Jungkook looks down at the scrap of paper that’s been in his pocket since the day started. Namjoon had to write the address of this Y/N L/N, lest DOJ traces his electronic trail and take him in for unnecessary questioning. Jungkook himself had to make up some petty excuse of a “hurting arm” to file a day-off. He just hopes all of this spent effort will worth him something.

Jungkook nears the 7-Eleven sitting in the fork of the streets. Namjoon wrote Y/N’s studio is cramped among the apartments around this area. He said she never really penned down a home to accommodate covert meet-ups like this. All she has is her studio.

In “Mini Palais, 23-B,” Jungkook mutters again, huffing in front of a door with cracking cadet blue paint. He finds the unit after climbing up a series of stairs at the end of the alleyway jammed between the decaying 7-Eleven and a battered motor shop. Jungkook raises his hand to knock when the door bursts open.

In front of him is a girl. Namjoon already said so and although Jungkook thinks it’s accurate enough for the girl who’s looking up at him through chopped raven bangs, it also wasn’t really enough to describe her. Because the girl in front of him was an aberrant mix of a girl and a woman. Jungkook thinks she’s around her early thirties if he were to consider Namjoon’s history of working with her for about ten years in FJO. There are faint lines around her eyes to support that. However, her relatively small height, plump cheeks, and the natural rosy hue of her lips beg to decrease ten years off that supposed age. With her youthful face, messy half-bun, and the white, floral off-shoulder dress flowing past her knees, no one will argue with Jungkook if he were to say she’s just 22.

“Who are you?”

“Oh, um,” Jungkook flashes his badge, “I’m Jungkook Jeon, a captain in the Federal Justice Organization. Precrime, Murder sector. I’m here to um, avail your…services for a case.”

The girl cocks her head to the side and gives him a once over. “I’m sorry, I don’t do services for the FJO anymore.” She moves to close the door but Jungkook was quick to block a foot between it and the wall.

“I’m a contact of Namjoon’s!” Jungkook exclaims, “He’s Lieutenant Seokjin Kim’s close subordinate.” This is a card he didn’t want to use but it looks like he has no other choice left. Jungkook clears his throat. “Actually, I’m a very close contact of Namjoon. We’re best friends. I even live with him. He’s the one who told me to, um, consult you for the case I’m handling.”

The girl opens the door an inch. Jungkook hands a folded paper to her. She spreads it open and scans through the letter. Jungkook doesn’t know what it actually says. Namjoon just thrust it into his hands on his way out and told him not to open it. It must be an effective personal request because by the time the girl reaches the end, she’s pushing her door wide open, tilting her head to the side, beckoning him to come inside. However, her face remains grim.

“I’m Y/N L/N. This is my studio. I know you already know I prefer to transact business here even for ones intended to be covert. So first off, I want to say I’m sorry you have to travel to such a place like this.”

Jungkook shakes his head, “Oh no, it’s definitely alright—”

“I kinda think it’s not when you grew up in a comfortable life. You must be quite shaken up.”

Jungkook freezes. Y/N looks at him, “Oh, I didn’t look into you or something. It’s just a hypothetical guess, seeing your,” she motions to his silver watch. “That’s expensive. No one from here will be able to afford it anytime soon.”

Jungkook’s shoulders turn lax. Y/N points to a chair next to a table in the corner. “Just wait there. I’m about to finish this piece in just a sec. Then I’m all yours.”

Jungkook nods and makes himself comfortable on the seat. Unlike its appearance on the outside, Y/N’s unit is not much of a concrete wreck. It still looks a bit rough. The ceiling has cracks all over it. A small white bulb precariously hangs on its center. It looks too weak to illuminate the whole room when the night comes. Jungkook thinks it’s a good thing that the unit has huge gaping rectangular windows to let in the natural light. The floor is cemented in gray but the work on it is unimpressive as there are numerous uneven layers, rough patches, and dents that could only be ascribed to poor mason work. The white wallpaper is torn around, some even wet at the edges—probably due to a leak during rains.

However, the flowers painted on them is vibrant enough to uplift the dreary unit. Paintings are littered around. Many are big, a few are small. Some were seated on easels, several are just laying around on the floor. Newspapers are strewn across the majority of the floor. Buckets and tin cans of paints line up the corners like a prayer circle.

All the colors present in the room can only be attributed to the paint that’s strewn across the newspapers, the paintings, and the 6’ tall canvas of an owl in flight Y/N is currently working on. The girl is standing on a small foldable ladder, painting the feathers of the bird at the top of the canvas. When the wind blows her hair to the side, Jungkook finds a mirage of colors on the scarlet spider lilies inked on her spine.

After about two minutes, Y/N steps down and dumps her brush into a rusted bucket filled with water. She turns to the man on the chair and makes her way to the stool opposite his. She fixes down her dress and finally looks at Jungkook. “So, what case do you have for me?”

“This,” Jungkook slides a couple of pictures toward her. They are the screen captures from the CCTV records that caught the black Jaguar. “There’s an unknown driver who’s doing an illegal time jump patterned to Precrime’s traveling agents. We tried to run in the license plate but it just turned to be ‘invalid.’ All we know is that the suspect is male, slim, and tall. He’s interested in the Winston Assassination, and has probably inside ties in FJO since he easily entered the Special Operations Building just ten days ago.”

“None of the traveling agents has seen this man before? Precrime or Forecrime?”

Jungkook shakes his head.

Y/N licks a finger and flips to the next picture, “What about the car?”

“None of the agents has seen a suspicious sedan sports Jaguar before. It’s the first time we have someone presumably well-to-do threatening the justice system.”

Y/N nods. Jungkook inserts his hand into his pocket and retrieves a black USB. He hands it to the girl. “Here’s more of the screenshots from the CCTVs, taken in each second. I can’t give you the CCTVs because of the protocol. I can only give you these. Just imagine they’re moving,” Jungkook purses his lips as he looks at the girl. “I want you to identify this man for me.”

Y/N tucks the USB into her dress’ pocket. She slides the pictures back to Jungkook. “This seems to be a heavy identification check then. Not that I couldn’t handle, of course. However, Namjoon must have told you that my rates are quite high—”

“Money is not a problem.”

Y/N cocks a brow, “So you did grow up a comfortable life.”

Jungkook clenches his jaw.

Y/N chuckles, “Okay, I’m not gonna dwell on it more. It’s settled then. Send your weekly payment to this account,” Y/N tears a piece from the rolls of paper by her side, scribbles on it, and hands it to him. “Every Friday, 10 AM sharp.” Jungkook looks at the paper before tucking it in the breast pocket of his leather jacket.

Y/N crosses her arms, “We can start next week after you give me the downpayment.”

Jungkook zips open a duffel bag and places a stack of bills on the table.

“Eager, aren’t we?” Y/N smiles, “I like that.” She flips through the bills before deciding they’re legitimate and dumping it into a box by her feet.

Y/N turns to him. “Now, where are we? Oh—you must already know, but what I really do here is foreseeing the future for whatever cause you have. It’s not just trivial fortune-telling but a purposive one. I can accurately give you whatever you want to know.”

Jungkook nods. Y/N’s leans forward on the table. “I’ll be honest with you. I don’t really have terms and conditions with my clients. Or any contract to ensure them their protection, as what I do tend to…increase risks. Emotional security and mental stability on your part. Those two and physical toll on mine. It will be absurd to provide any contract as what I am doing is anything but guaranteeing protection. I can’t also be fully transparent about the mechanisms behind the things I will do for you. Otherwise, my gift won’t work. What I can only assure is I’ll never proceed on any memories you have set boundaries on. Should you decide to stop this negotiation anywhere in the future, I will automatically concede and keep the confidentiality of whatever that may happen. As long as on your part, you won’t consider asking for a refund.”

“I understand.”

“Good,” Y/N smiles, “Now first things first. Tell me any hurting point you have.”

Jungkook goes stiff. “Is this actually necessary?”

Y/N nods. “I know this is a tough question, but we’re talking about memories here.”

“I know but I can’t just divulge them to a stranger—"

“I think you don’t get what I’m saying.” Y/N lets out a humorless chuckle. “Look, Jungkook, when I attempt to see the future concerning this elusive driver you’re after, it is inevitable for the past to re-appear. There is no future without any past. Your past memories can clog up with the ones involved in the case because you are in the case. You’re heading it. Good or bad, memories will come up. That’s their thing. They spring up at the most inconvenient times. No matter how old they already are. No matter how long you must have already moved on from them. Memories demand to be remembered and you cannot just disregard them even if you will it to because it never gave anyone a choice to do otherwise. So, if you don’t set the boundaries on the memories you don’t want me to cross, I’ll just see everything in their utter unadulterated form.” Y/N leans forward, “And I can assure you, you don’t want that to happen.”

Jungkook prods his cheek with his tongue. “Fine. I’ll give you my hurting point and that’s that. No further questions.”

“Okay.”

Jungkook digs in his back pocket for his wallet and flips it open. There’s a tattered white edge of a picture peeking through the flaps. It’s been years since he pulled it out. Its replica, now tucked in his shelf, has prevented him from doing so for so many years. Jungkook closes his eyes and slides it toward the girl. “This boy. Anything that concerns him, I don’t want you to cross or even bring up. Understand?”

“Okay.” Y/N hands back the photo to him. “We go to the second step then. You must already have your assumed suspects. Tell me their names.”

Jungkook draws back. “I can’t tell you that, that’s highly classified information. FJO’s protocol doesn’t allow it and—”

“Do you seeking my help part of the protocol?”

Jungkook looks down, “No.”

“Right. So, tell me their names. I need to know them to make a memory map.”

Jungkook’s brows meet “A what?”

“A memory map,” Y/N repeats, “It’s something I make to identify points of certain memories in time. It guides me to the memories I need to tread to reach what I’m really looking for. It’s like a demo version of Forecrime’s box trainings but except of a machine, I’m doing it manually by hand. For all we know, the real suspect must be close to these suspects.”

Jungkook’s brow quirks up.

Y/N leans forward, “So, tell me their names?”

Jungkook turns his face away from her, looking at his clasped hands. “Well, I…only have one.”

“And that is?”

“Leigh Anderson. Winston’s assassin. FJO has been after him for 17 years. He also has a number of sponsors who’s been sending him missions with promises of large sums of money. But most of all, he’s rumored to have access to time jumping technologies. Illegal of course. FJO is the only one licensed to be utilizing them.”

“That’s good,” Y/N quips. “Do you have any pictures of him?”

Jungkook turns to his duffel bag and retrieves a picture. It’s Anderson in the scene of Winston’s murder that FJO has pinned to their system. The one in the crime record Jungkook produced. He hands it to Y/N. “Is this enough?”

“More than enough,” Y/N smiles. She stands up and walks to one of her cupboards, reaching for a ceramic bowl. She pours some tap water in it and turns back to the table, a short, white candle in hand. She places the candle on the water, letting it float. She retrieves a lighter from her dress pocket and lights up the wick of the candle.

Y/N puts her palms open on the table. “Let’s start now. Do you have your clicker with you?”

Jungkook’s brows meet. “What?”

“Your time jumper,” Y/N grits.

Jungkook looks at her incredulously. “I don’t see any reason why would you need it—”

“We’re going to the past to have a tangible memory to start on my memory map.” Before Jungkook could tear himself away from the table, Y/N launches forward and snatches the small, black device hanging on the man’s belt loop. Jungkook shoots an arm out and grabs onto it.

But it’s too late. Y/N’s already pushed the button.

The air is knocked out of Jungkook’s windpipe. A numbing pain starts to settle on his chest, a migraine forming on his temple. His limbs also feel stone-heavy. Precrime traveling has always been like this and yet Jungkook can never get used to it. However, he’s not left wondering about it for long because in the next second, Jungkook’s standing in front of a dark road. Tall shrubs and trees shadowing the moon, CCTVs mounted on the lamp posts lining the concrete. It’s Somerset Road.

Jungkook’s eyes widen. Why is he here? He tries to move but his limbs are stuck by his side, unmoving as he grunts. He tries to take a step back but the effort is futile when his feet are seemingly glued onto the dark asphalt. Jungkook sighs and turns to the road in front of him again. And this time around, Jungkook’s mouth falls ajar.

Y/N is standing idly at the other side of the road, opposite of him.

“H-how did you travel here—”

A car zooms past. Jungkook turns his head to the sound. The air is punched out from his esophagus. It’s his car—the silver-gray Ford. And there at the other end of the road emerges a black sedan sports Jaguar. The Jaguar speeds on and drives into the Ford, swerving it around, tires screeching loud on the pavement. It topples down, rolling around, then round, and round. Three times, Jungkook counted. Just like the CCTV Hoseok retrieved. The Ford stops, upside down. The black Jaguar zips past it. Like the CCTVs have shown, the Jaguar reaches the other end of the street and disappears. A second passes. The body of the driver in the car drops onto the cold pavement. It lolls his head to his side, bloodied face turned towards the man standing on the pavement.

Jungkook’s facing right into his past. He isn’t reliving the memory. He is living it. There’s no anger but pain. Fresh, unadulterated pain that cannot be accounted to the lacerations on his injured arm.

The wind howls. Jungkook remains frozen in his position. Then suddenly, everything stops—the distant honking of the cars, the wind, the clatter of the crushed car pieces falling onto the ground. What the fuck is happening? Jungkook turns around, only to come face to face with the girl.

Y/N’s arm shoots forward and fists the collar of his leather jacket, pulling him down to her level. “You didn’t say this business is personal!”

“It’s not a big deal,” Jungkook spits, tearing her hand off him.

“It is, Jungkook! You said you were involved. I didn’t think it was this level of involved!”

“It doesn’t change any fact that I’m still going to be involved either way! I’m still going to head this case because it’s tied with Winston. What difference does it make if I am the victim of this fucking man?!”

“A lot!” Y/N screams. Jungkook stops. Y/N sighs, “It does a lot of difference, Jungkook. We’re already risking a lot in this until it turns out you’re a focal point in this case! You’re a fucking victim of this culprit! A conflict of interest is highly possible. You will be unable disassociate yourself from this and objectively investigate this case—”

“I don’t need you telling me what I should do or not, Y/N.” Jungkook steps forward to the girl. “I know what I’m doing. And I know it when I say I can investigate this following all the legal protocols.”

Y/N tilts her head. “How can you say that when you’ve just been face-to-face with your past self?”

Before Jungkook can say anything, Y/N closes her eyes and clicks her finger. In just one second, everything around Jungkook falls beneath his feet—the trees, Somerset Road, his bloodied self. It rips themselves off from his senses until all he could see again is the dilapidated atelier, the barren ceilings, and, Y/N.

Jungkook hunches over, coughing as air fills his lungs again. “H-how could you do that?”

Y/N blows off the candle. “My gift.” She glances at the man. “The accident is taking a serious toll on you. I have to take us out of the time jump.”

Jungkook sits back and glowers at her. “N-no, what I’m asking about is—how could you snatch my clicker and make a jump without any remorse? You do know that’s illegal!”

“I know. ‘FJO’s traveling agents and officials are the only ones allowed by the law to engage in time jumping activities’ yaddah yaddah bullshit.” Y/N leans on the table, face hovering the Captain’s. “But involving a then-law practitioner, much more an outsider like me, into your case is also illegal. I have my gift, yes. But I can only see the future and I won’t be able to see it accurately if I don’t have some sense of the past. Plus, I have no other pragmatic choice to start this case on the right foot. I already saw the future of our negotiation before you sat down on that stool. There’s nothing else I could say other than it didn’t end favorably for any of us.” Y/N turns back to the table she’s clearing, “Not that it’s any different now. Especially when I just learned the case you’ve showed me is more personal than you presented it to be.”

Jungkook purses his lips. He stands up, gathers his things, and wordlessly makes his way out of the atelier. He didn’t bid the girl any farewell.

“Looks like you haven’t been sleeping.”

Jungkook looks up at his friend before looking down at his crossed arms, turning his attention back to his mug of coffee.

Namjoon takes a seat cross Jungkook. “Did something happen?” He twirls the tea bag around his own mug, “Care to tell why you’ve been sporting those dark eye bags since two days ago?”

“It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing when the doctor precisely told you to have a healthy lifestyle to help your wound heal faster.”

Jungkook looks at Namjoon.

Namjoon points to his bandaged arm, “It indeed doesn’t look it’s healing fast like it’s supposed to.”

Jungkook sighs. “Fine, you caught me.” He purses his lips then looks at his friend, “I’ve been wondering. You know our clickers are designed to identify the agent it was assigned to before it could work. But, is it…possible for clickers to work on someone that doesn’t belong to FJO as long as someone from FJO is present?”

Namjoon keeps his gaze on him. A look of surprise seems to wash over his face. But it soon gets replaced by a look of recognition. Namjoon places the tea bag onto the saucer on his left. “I see you already met Y/N.”

“Y-you knew that about her?”

“I do,” Namjoon mutters over his cup of tea. “I learned it when the Bureau looked into the Linton Park serial murders. Seokjin’s team, including me, followed the memory map she made for us—a trail of memories that specifically belongs to anything related to the murders. But then, we hit a dead-end for the supposed next victim. Can’t identify her. We only had images of flashing movement—blood splattering in a barn, people running on a green field. There are just cops and a woman.”

Namjoon places down his cup, “And so, Y/N told me she needed me to help her make a time jump in the past. I pressed on the clicker and,” Namjoon shrugs, “Y/N successfully made the jump. And also successfully return with the info of the victim—a girl working on a farm. Y/N tied it to the flashing images of the field and deduced the running was not about us chasing a murderer’s accomplice. But us running after a victim before Linton could. It was hard to tell at first why the victim is running away from us. Until we learned through Y/N she was an illegal immigrant.”

Namjoon pulls his lips into a tight smile. “I think it’s an additional gift. But at the same time, it’s also a setback. A rightful one at that. Y/N’s inability to time jump in the past unless with a clicker a meter radius within her balances the power of her future-seeing gift. She still needs to rely on the system even if her gift for the future is, hypothetically, unbound from any constraints.” Namjoon takes a sip of his tea. “How ‘bout you? How did you learn this…extra ability of hers?”

“She snatched my clicker from me,” Jungkook leans back in his seat. “She said she needed a ‘tangible memory’ to start on her memory map. She ended up thrusting us back into the time of my car accident.”

Namjoon freezes. “Excuse me? Did you say ‘us’?”

Jungkook’s forehead furrows, “Yeah. We did the jump together, that’s why I’m asking you about this thing with the clickers.”

“Jungkook, she never did that before.”

Jungkook’s brows shoot up. “What?”

Namjoon scratches his nape, face scrunched up. “When she asked me to let her jump through my clicker, she didn’t take me along with the jump. It’s only her. Like it should always be as one clicker is only for one user. It’s always been like this in all the situations she asked me for a time jump in the past.” Namjoon looks at him, “I don’t know why you got in the same loop as her.”

The night was quiet but devoid of peace. Like an ugly pause in a running film that’s just about to unwind the questions they laid at the start. Even after intaking his blue pills, Jungkook finds it difficult to close his eyes shut.

“Big brother!”

Jungkook turns around. The small boy stands on his tiptoes, small arms reaching for him. Jungkook smiles, “You want to climb on my back again, Daehyun?”

“Yes!” Daehyun giggles.

“Alright then,” Jungkook crouches in front of him and Daehyun’s squeals grow louder as he loops his stubby arms around Jungkook’s neck. Jungkook stands up, securing the boy’s short legs around his torso. “Ready for some wind, big boy?” He asks. Daehyun nods frantically and soon, Jungkook is zooming on the green field, turning the heads of the children and volunteers in the park. But all Jungkook could hear was Daehyun’s laughter filling the nice summer afternoon. It brings a huge smile on Jungkook’s face.

Then—flashing blue and red lights. Cold pavement. A lone school bus standing in the middle. Its yellowness highlighted by the police’s yellow tape surrounding the area. Reporters dot every possible space on the crossroad. “Shooter on the loose.” “Poor child.” “Blood splattered on the seats.” But all Jungkook could hear is the white noise of the chattering. And the call of “Big brother!” he’ll never hear anymore.

Jungkook jolts awake. He sighs, closing his eyes. “It’s all in the past,” he mutters repeatedly under his breath. But no matter how many times he repeats it, it doesn’t shake off the horror he’s reeling in. He’s had this dream again and again for eight years straight. He should be already accustomed to it.

Jungkook sits up straight. He turns back to his computer and sees a couple of pictures open on the desktop. It was the screenshots of the CCTVs Yoongi gave them. He looks at the top of his desk. His notes empty of anything new other than Leigh Anderson’s name webbed next to an un-filled space for sponsors. Jungkook covers his face with his palms and yawns. Just then a series of text messages come in.

Unknown: This is Y/N. I know we left on bad terms three days ago. I’m the one to blame for that for overreacting. I’m sorry. It’s been a while since I’ve done a case for FJO. I’m still kinda hung up separating personal services from investigative ones. (2:13 P.M.)

Unknown: Nevertheless, I hope you’re free this day. Meet me at Somerset Road. 3 P.M. I don’t want you to waste the money you gave me yesterday (2:13 P.M.)

Somerset Road is a thirty-minute drive from the FJO Main Headquarters. However, it didn’t feel like it when Jungkook parks his car on the side road. It seemed like hours have gone by when the sun is about to set in the alcove of trees in the distance. It’s just three in the afternoon. Jungkook steps outside and shuts the door. From his position, he could make out a girl in ripped black denim pants and black tank layered with a pink see-through mesh shirt. From the striking red of the spider lilies on the top of her spine, Jungkook could tell it was Y/N. He almost didn’t recognize her. He wouldn’t know she has an undercut had her high ponytail didn’t highlight it.

The girl turns around and looks at him. “You’re late.”

“I have to bribe the Maintenance Office first to give me this afternoon’s CCTVs when we’re done.” Jungkook strides toward her, “How did you get my number?”

“Namjoon.”

Jungkook cocks a brow.

Y/N shrugs, “he wrote it in the letter you gave me. Should you, quote-unquote, be ‘difficult to deal with.’”

Jungkook keeps his lips in a straight line.

Y/N rocks on her toes, hands in her pocket. “Let’s get straight to it then. Take your clicker out and push it.”

“What are you intending to do—”

“A time jump.”

“Of course, I know that. What other purpose do we use our time jumps for?” Jungkook spits. “What I want to know is what we’re supposed to be doing first before I follow whatever you want me to do because I cannot just blindly trust you with this—”

Y/N turns her head to him, one brow cocked up, “Didn’t I tell you before I don’t fancy How-What-Why-Whatever questions to what I do or else my gift won’t work?”

“Yes, but—”

“Look, will you just push it or do you want me to snatch it from you again?” Y/N takes a step closer to him, leveling his eyes with hers. “I already did a read for today. I know its new hiding place.”

Jungkook remains unmoving in his stance.

Y/N crosses her arms. “If it would assure you, this session won’t end taxingly fruitless like the last time. I’m positive we’ll get something by the end of today.”

“How did you know?”

“I told you, I did a read for today. I saw you with an astounded face and me with a happy and proud smile. Obviously, we must have ended up finding something.”

Jungkook is still unconvinced.

Y/N sighs, “If you don’t want to do anything of what I can offer you, you know you can just terminate our connection anytime you want. Just so you know you can’t refund the 10,000 zials you gave me for the downpayment.”

Jungkook keeps his gaze on her. A couple of seconds pass before he sighs and shakes his head as he takes out his issued clicker tucked in the breast pocket of his leather jacket.

Y/N smirks. “See? You know you’re gonna need me in the end and you still try to put up an unnecessary fight.”

Jungkook grunts. He turns the clicker’s indicator to “1-2 weeks” timeframe and pushes the button.

It was just like their previous time jump—like any other Precrime time jump. It felt like nothing yet also everything at the same time. An amalgamation of sensations and perceptions flashing in front of him in the blink of an eye as he is transported back to the night of his accident. Jungkook looks down at his feet. He’s back to where he last stood at—the left side of the road next to the corner where his car will come from. Jungkook turns to his left and he almost jumps in shock. Unlike their last jump, Y/N is no longer on the opposite side of the road, but beside him, shoulders almost bumping his. Jungkook takes a staggering step away from her.

Even if Namjoon laid everything he knows about Y/N’s skills yesterday, Jungkook still finds it hard to accept that a clairvoyant is able to look into the past with such effortless access. Aren’t they only supposed to see the future?

“What are you looking at?”

Jungkook tears his gaze away from her. “Nothing.”

“Thought so, too,” Y/N quips. “We’re here to work after all. Not ogle at each other.”

Jungkook tongues his cheek. He’s not left to his frustration for long as after a second, the burning of tires on the asphalt is heard on their side of the road. A silver-gray Ford appears and it zooms past them in a flash. A black Jaguar subsequently shows up on the other side, its form nearing them each millisecond that passes. It’s only time ‘til the two crashes and sends Jungkook’s car rolling three times on the road.

But, it didn’t happen. The howls of the wind stop. The screeching of the tires halts in awkward silence. And the cars are frozen still. The Jaguar’s bumper and Ford’s right door are separated by a mere inch. It’s the second before the accident happens. Paused in a picture-like frame as if someone hit the pause icon on a video.

Jungkook whips his head to his side. Y/N has her palm closed in a post-click of her thumb and middle fingers. Jungkook feels his throat clog up, “H-how did you do that?”

Y/N rolls her eyes. “Told you before, it’s because of my gift. And it’s also just seconds ago I told you I don’t like questions about how my gift works.” Y/N steps away from him and onto the road. “Follow me.”

Jungkook silently follows behind. It’s only a matter of seconds that they reach the side of the door of the silver-gray Ford. Jungkook lets his fingers touch on the coated metal. It felt cold on his flesh. Solid. Real. Jungkook can’t help but be astonished. This is no regular time jump. Totally unlike the first one he did with the woman. For this time, Jungkook doesn’t feel he’s living the film of the scene, just like any of the standard Precrime time jumping. This time, Jungkook feels he’s in the scene. Not in a film, not like the virtual reality experienced by Forecrime agents. But in real-time.

“Take your hands off your car.”

Jungkook tears his hands away from his car. He looks at the girl. Y/N gives him a pointed look, “I know this time jump doesn’t feel like the standard time jumps of Precrime so you may be astounded with,” she motions around them, “all of this. But I prefer you not to get too overwhelmed. We’re here for work.”

Jungkook nods, reluctant. Y/N walks further into the side of the road, now a foot away from the spot where the cars should crash. Jungkook quickly follows behind. When he’s by an arms-length away from her, he faces back to the scene in front of him. And then, Y/N clicks her hand.

The trees sway again. The winds continue their violent gush on the road. And the cars collide. The film is playing again.

But then, Y/N clicks her fingers. The scene stops, frozen yet again. The bumper of the Jaguar has dug into the Ford’s door, crushing the metal with its momentum. The side mirror is broken, glass shards shattering in mid-air.

“Come here,” Y/N beckons. Jungkook walks close behind as Y/N stops by the point of intersection of the two cars. From their position, Jungkook could see the past him hunched over on the wheel, seat belt digging into his torso. The window by his side is broken, a splotch of blood marring the clear glass. And on his right, Jungkook could see the driver of the black Jaguar. Non-existent.

Y/N looks at him, “So we know the man you’re after is doing an illegal time jump similar to the pattern of Precrime’s traveling agents. But what you don’t know is: he’s a professional.”

“W-what?”

“Look,” Y/N flicks her wrist and makes an anti-clockwise motion of her hand. The sound goes void again and the cars back away from each other in slow motion. Jungkook’s brows shoot up. The scene is rewinding. Y/N is turning back the time before the Jaguar collided into the Ford. And then, Y/N moves her arm horizontally to her left and clicks her fingers. The Jaguar moves forward again, but slowly this time. Jungkook could see the silhouette of the driver with arms taut on the wheel disappearing into a cloud of smoke until it turns no more but a nonexistent person on the seat as it hits the door of the Ford.

Y/N clicks her fingers and the scene pauses. “As you saw, it only took the driver,” she glances at her watch, “ten seconds before completely disappearing into his time jump. From how fast he disappeared, we could say it only took him twenty seconds in total to make the entire jump. I can only deduce this as the memories we have are short of the time we could see him in his solid form. The same way goes for the CCTVs you gathered. It only captured the last ten seconds of the whole accident. The Jaguar nonexistent in the frame from 20:23:39 and anything beyond before that time mark. The CCTVs only showed the Jaguar from 20:23:40 to exactly 20:24. The last 10 seconds, devoid of any driver.”

The girl continues, “Now, to be able to completely vanish in just 20 seconds, you must be a professional in time jumping in the past. Which can only be done if you’ve undergone training under Precrime. However, this could also be just any other outsider that’s gotten lucky doing an illegal time jump. Considering Somerset Road has a strong electromagnetic field that can help anyone do their time jumps faster and more successfully—including the risky ones that involve a huge time frame of unbounded jumps into the past. But to know that about Somerset Road, much less know how to effectively take advantage of its field during a time jump—you should be a long-time agent of Precrime.”

Y/N faces Jungkook, “The man you’re after is either a professional Precrime traveling agent or an outsider who’s fed with all the necessary information only a Precrime agent could know. It’s an inside job.”

Jungkook shakes his head, “No. It can’t be. Every time-jumping device has a permanent tracker that can never be taken out even by the best engineer. Allen McGregor designed it to be like that to ensure these devices will not be used for personal interest. Every agent is tracked of their traveling activities and logged straight into the Investigation Bureau’s files. They’re inputted in glass files similar to the crime records—void for editing, copying, and deleting. And should it be an outsider utilizing Precrime’s technology, a travel will still be tracked back to the agent whose device was used.” Jungkook looks at Y/N. “There have been no reports of anyone traveling on Somerset Road the night of my accident.”

Y/N shrugs, “I’m just saying what I saw. Especially this.” Y/N makes an anti-clockwise motion of her hands and the scene rewinds again. The Jaguar is frozen back into five seconds before it hits the silver-gray Ford. Y/N walks toward the car, Jungkook close behind. The girl motions to the passenger seat and Jungkook stills. There on the leather seat is a red file case. Unprecedented murder. Precrime Murder Sector. But this is not what rendered Jungkook immobile in shock. Rather, it’s the label on the file case.

“Jonathan Winston Assassination; August 15, 2047; 12:30:00.”

“See?” Y/N smirks, “Told you we’ll find something today.”

A click of the hand and soon, the dark night sky of Somerset Road bleeds into the burning colors of the sunset. There’s no longer the silver-gray Ford and the black Jaguar. It’s just Jungkook and Y/N alone in the road, back to where they were before.

Jungkook hunches over, coughing as he beats his chest. When he finally stabilizes his breathing back to normal, he turns to the girl. “You…Ho-how can you be so sure with all of these vi-visions?”

Y/N looks at Jungkook, an indecipherable look on her face. “This is what you paid for 10,000 zials. I’m handing you what your eyes missed on just the way they are.”

Jungkook holds in his breath as he knocks on the glass door.

“Come in.”

Jungkook pushes the door open and salutes. “Chief Nathan Spencer.”

“Captain Jeon,” the Chief of Precrime glances up at him before returning back to the stack of papers he’s signing. He motions to the chair in front of his desk, “Make yourself comfortable.”

Jungkook pulls back the black chair and sits.

“So, what brings you here?”

“This week’s report, sir—the joint investigation with DOJ on the unidentified black Jaguar.” Jungkook places a brown folder on the Chief’s desk.

The chief looks at the captain. “Still no progress in the identification?”

Jungkook shakes his head, face grim.

“That can’t be helped,” Nathan sympathetically mutters. “It’s not the first time FJO has handled a difficult case.”

“But it is the first time FJO can’t identify a suspect with its current system.”

“You’re right,” Nathan nods. He flips open the brown folder and skims the report. “How’s the auditor doing?”

Jungkook clenches his jaw. “Fine. Still…meddling with our processes.”

Nathan lets out a light scoff. “As expected of someone who’s running for a promotion. Always been a know-it-all jerk, this Min Yoongi.”

Jungkook makes a tight-lipped smile.

Nathan chuckles. “Forgive me. I’ve always had a prejudice against DOJ’s auditors. Most, if not all of them, always give us a hard time more than what’s necessary. Anyway, what else do you have for me, Jungkook?”

The captain sits up straight. “I would like to ask a favor, sir.”

Nathan clasps his hand on his desk. He leans forward. “What is it?”

“It’s for the investigation. DOJ has access to all of our files—Precrime, Forecrime, and even the Investigation Bureau. So I figured if I can also do the same since our sector seems to be their main target. If I have the same leverage on our own information as them, I can have control over this investigation and drive them away before they can even assume power over us.” Jungkook leans on the table, “We could see the problems first before they become visible to DOJ.”

Nathan raises his brow. “So what do you mean?”

“I would like to have unrestricted access in our archives. Everything that contains anything pertaining to FJO.” Jungkook leans forward, “Including the Memory Temple.”

The chief sighs, “That’s a big favor, Jungkook.”

“I know. That’s why Chief General Andrews told me to go to you.”

Nathan’s brows shoot up, “The Chief General?”

“Yes, Chief General Matthew Andrews. He said you’re good friends with Chief of the Bureau, Natasha Ryde. Chief Andrews wants to ask if you could do a favor of a friend for a friend.” Jungkook slides a white envelope underneath the folder, “Of course, not without considerable credit.”

Nathan purses his lips. A beat. He shakes his head, sighing. “Okay…I’ll try to put in a word for you. I can give you the entire archives tomorrow. But the Memory Temple could take a while. Two days or three.”

“That’s fine with me.” Jungkook smiles. He stands up and heads to the end of the room. Before he could disappear behind the door, he salutes one more time, “Thank you for the kind accommodation, Chief.”

Jungkook heads to the main elevator and hits the second floor below the Superiors’ Hall. The metal doors ding open and soon, Jungkook’s looking at a wide expanse of glass wall reflecting hundreds of shelves on the glass panes.

Jungkook heads to the entranceway and salutes at the guard, “Sally.” The guard returns the salute, smiling. Jungkook tilts his head, “Did the Bureau come by to retrieve Precrime files?”

“Not yet, sir. The Bureau’s still busy in their matters with DOJ. They halted the synching of files for now.”

“That’s good,” Jungkook quips and pushes the glass doors open.

Tall metal bookshelves snake like an accordion around the floor. The spaces between them is occasionally filled up by wooden desks that mandatorily come along with a wooden bookstand and black study lamp. It looks like a hedge maze made of old books, monochrome papers, and multi-colored files.

Jungkook heads to the leftmost aisle—Precrime’s archives. He weaves his way through the bookshelves until he stops in front of a separated room in the middle of the labyrinth. It’s made completely out of glass, just like FJO’s offices. The only difference is that this room contains five sets of desks and chairs, bookshelves, and the Archive Manager’s huge white station as the centerpiece.

And before Jungkook could finish leveling his eyes to the scanner set by the door, he could already feel the growing stare of Emily Young.

“Captain Jeon.”

“Ms. Young,” Jungkook nods to the manager.

Emily smiles, “To what do I owe your visit today?”

“Jonathan Winston’s Assassination case file.”

“As usual,” The thirty-seven-year-old manager sing-songs as she stands up and disappears into the back room. It doesn’t take long for her to retrieve what the Precrime captain is looking for.

A long expandable, red file with the label in Arial 12 print: “Jonathan Winston Assassination; August 15, 2047; 12:30:00.”

Just like in Y/N’s time jump. Identically the same. Jungkook looks at the manager, “Do you have a log of anyone who looks into this file?”

Emily chuckles, “I don’t think that will bring anything new to the table, captain.” She scans the numeric code of the file and turns the monitor of her computer towards him. “There’s no one who’s been looking at this file but you.”

Jungkook peers in. Indeed, the log on Winston’s file contains nothing but his name. From August 15, 2047, the date of Winston’s assassination, to the most recent date, August 3, 2059. The day after Leigh Anderson’s suicide. The day after the Winston case was closed cold. There’s no other name in the log for 12 years other than his name.

Jungkook looks back at Emily, “Are you sure this is the complete log on this file? No one borrowed the file earlier than July 12th?”

“That’s the whole log, captain. There’s no record on August 1st because we’re closed to do an inventory check.” Emily leans back in her chair. “Everyone knows you’re busy on a case in Down Hill for the entirety of June. The Allison future murder is all over the news. Of course, with a Metropolis resident as a future victim. And with you busy on another case, this Winston’s file is devoid of any viewers.” Emily releases a chuckle. “Every cop has an obsession with a particular case. Everyone here knows Winston’s case is yours. I think I will remember if someone other than you looked into this file because I swear that day will be a miracle.”

Jungkook purses his lips, face undecipherable. Right then, his phone rings loud. He turns to his back and picks it up. “Hello?”

“Captain.” It’s Jimin.

“What is it?”

“You have to come to the sector now. There’s a file from Precrime. It’s…a blank.”

“Okay, I’ll be there soon,” Jungkook ends the call. He faces Emily. “Thank you for today, Emily.” The archives manager nods with a playful salute at him. Jungkook quickly returns the salute and pushes the door open. Soon, he’s tearing past the labyrinth of shelves.

It doesn’t take Jungkook longer than ten minutes to reach the left-wing of the 2nd floor. The cold sweat from the discovery in the archives is still clinging on his nape.

As soon as he steps into Murder Sector, everyone’s eyes are set on him. Including Yoongi. Jungkook prods his cheek with his tongue as he slides in the gloves over his hands. “Jimin, give me the run-over.”

“Captain, Jeon. It’s a grayish-white file. Precrime, Property and Crime Scene Sector. Traveling agent in charge is Eric Williams. Crime record validated by traveling agents Hannah Peters and Ivan Park. Case number 3571, hit-and-run, destruction of property. Suspect is unknown. Victim’s name is…Jeon Jungkook.”

Jungkook whips his head towards the secretary, eyes wide.

“It’s your case, sir.” Jimin confirms, “Eric accidentally time jumped into the night of your hit-and-run while he’s traveling for a T-Bone accident in Middle Town. Property and Crime Scene figured this blank is a crucial update on your case.” He walks to the end of the glass board and slides the disk into the middle slot.

Jungkook turns to his front. The glass board lights up and a video starts playing. It’s Somerset Road and it’s almost pitch black in the grainy film. Eric stands frozen on the pavement for a second. But the seeming serenity of the scene soon dissipates as he looks down at his gear and frantically fumbles for his time jumper. Suddenly, hot blinding light fills his peripherals. Eric’s head shoots up. A car is speeding toward him. The headlights grow larger and finally, the car becomes visible. It’s the silver-gray Ford. Eric turns around and right then, a black Jaguar zooms past him, merely missing him by a hairsbreadth. But the Jaguar doesn’t stop and further increases its speed. It bulldozers right into the side of the Ford, sending it flying across the barren road. Eric picks up his feet and dashes to the cars. But his efforts are futile. The black Jaguar has already disappeared before he could even take his 12th step. And then, the record stops.

Before Jimin could even state the protocol run-through, Jungkook frantically swipes through the blank record. He slides across the frames in reverse, back and backward until he reaches the first second of the blank.

“Sir, I’m afraid we have to do the protocol first—"

Jungkook’s hand stills on the board. The frame freezes. It’s a close-up of the black Jaguar as it barely grazes Eric’s body. Jungkook zooms in. There inside the passenger seat of the car is a long, red expandable file. “Jonathan Winston Assassination; August 15, 2047; 12:30:00.”

Jungkook feels his blood run cold. It’s the same file he just had his hands on less than 15 minutes ago. It’s the same file he saw in his and Y/N’s jump. Y/N’s vision is true.

Jungkook feels his pocket vibrate and he quickly whips out his phone. However, he wasn’t able to dwell on it longer as a hard force pushes his shoulder backward, forcing Jungkook to tear his eyes off the screen.

Yoongi glares at him, “Why are you indifferent about this? You know something about this, didn’t you? Captain Jeon!”

But even with his name called out loud, Jungkook couldn’t hear anything. All that registers in his mind is one single message.

Y/N L/N: Have you ever heard of a Sooah Kim before? (11:14 A.M.)

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Note: This story is based on Steven Spielberg’s film adaptation of Philip K. Dick’s short story, Minority Report (2002). That being said, this series may contain spoilers for the movie so if you want to watch the movie, please do so first before reading!

A/N | Hi hons! Thank you for reading the 2nd chapter! I hope I got you guys more curious about the story hehe. Anyway, I have some announcement: I have finals for a major coming up this week so I’ll spend the next whole week studying. So, I’ll try if I can update the next chap the week after next week, on Sunday, too. But nothing is certain yet as I still have some uni stuff to do. Don’t worry, I only have 3 projects left to do to finally finish this sem. So as soon as I’m done with them, expect more frequent updates from me!

If you guys wanna get notified as soon as I post the next chapter, I’m gonna add you all in my taglist! Just hit me up down the comments of this series’ masterlist so I can better track you all! The search function of Tumblr is messing with me and my notifs in my inbox usually come late so it’s highly probable your asks and DMs may get lost ☹

Once again, thank you for reading and giving a chance to My Time! :”)

Notes: As you know, this is a mystery fic. So, it will be most appreciated if any theories pertaining to the story be kept down the comments so I can entertain them all without spoiling our future readers! Once again, thank you so much for reading this!

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engineheaven9 · 3 years

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U.S. soccer to face antagonistic Honduras, the place batteries, urine and animal heads might also fly

SAN PEDRO SULA, Honduras — Shin-excessive grass. A rain of batteries, bags of urine and severed animal heads. lost bags, loud parties, lodges with no electrical energy and climate it is either way too scorching, means too humid or way too lots of both. those are just probably the most distractions the U.S. national soccer team has needed to contend with when playing World Cup qualifiers on the road. And that’s where it may be Wednesday when the crew — lacking four starters to harm or suspension — faces Honduras within the unfriendly confines of Estadio Olímpico Metropolitano, on a container surrounded by means of a sequence-hyperlink fence for the players’ insurance policy. “It’s like Thunderdome,” mentioned Alexi Lalas, a former country wide team defender who played in 12 qualifiers. “You simply are looking to get out alive to a certain extent.” that may frequently suppose like an not likely effect. At halftime of a qualifier performed before a adversarial crowd of a hundred and fifteen,000 within the warmth, altitude and smog of Mexico city, Lalas feared for Cobi Jones’ lifestyles as he watched his teammate cough up “disgusting globules of darkish stuff.” “these things, combined [with] the machine guns and the dogs and the fire alarms a good way to get pulled, all of that variety of stuff occurs,” Lalas referred to. “so you’ve received to be mentally amazing to bob and weave and simply roll with all the s--- that’s about to return. actually.” sure, there are also reports of excrement being thrown at players, another reason enjoying in CONCACAF, the FIFA confederation that encompasses North the united states, vital the us and the Caribbean, isn't for the faint of heart or vulnerable of charter. And it’s already proven a learning journey for a younger U.S. team that entered the latest match with 19 players who had in no way taken half in a CONCACAF qualifier. “There’s no simulation for enjoying on a horrible container, 95-degree climate with ninety% humidity, apart from doing it and realizing [it] and feeling the force worried. That’s just the fact,” talked about Landon Donovan, who had a cup of vomit thrown at him right through a video game in Mexico, where the U.S. turned into as soon as locked out of its own dressing room. “It’s a very diverse animal,” Jones agreed. In Costa Rica, U.S. gamers had been spat on and pelted with cash, batteries, pieces of wire fencing and numerous liquids. In Guatemala, a 2000 semifinal-circular qualifier changed into moved from the capital to the tiny city of Mazatenango on the ultimate minute, forcing the group to make a 3-hour bus trip over mountain roads. “Some man with a hand lawnmower was reducing the grass. It turned into about seven inches excessive,” remembers Bruce enviornment, who has coached the most World Cup qualifiers in U.S. Soccer history. “It become invariably all this gamesmanship.” So constant, definitely, it inspired its own verb. To get CONCACAFed ability succumbing to the features, trickery or negative rulings from officials greater attracted to getting out alive then in getting the calls appropriate. The group inn is a typical website for that, with loud, all-night celebrations within the parking zone making it difficult for the players to sleep. In Honduras, a newspaper once printed a floor plan of the U.S. resort while Jones remembers an extra lodge that had an unexplained vigour outage simply after the group checked in. “It’s honking and horns blasting and vuvuzelas at 2 in the morning. multiple instances the fire alarm goes off,” said Jones, who played in a record 164 games for the U.S. “These are issues that ensue perpetually. after which sure, you need to play a online game.” When DaMarcus Beasley and goalkeeper Tim Howard performed for the U.S., they stated they frequently registered under fake names to prevent undesirable calls within the core of the nighttime. “There’s all the time some variety of new holiday, new festival the day earlier than the video game,” referred to Beasley, who had a bird head thrown at him in El Salvador. “They make sure the game is as uncomfortable as viable after they play the U.S.” a different regular trick is grass it truly is several inches excessive, making each passing and operating difficult. “It’s more complicated to trap or to pass a ball. That capacity the ball’s at your feet much more,” Jones stated. “And when that occurs it gives a defender much more time to return into you and do some thing he desires to do.” members of the U.S. soccer crew go away the pitch following a 1-1 draw in opposition t Canada in a global Cup soccer qualifier on Sunday in Nashville. (Mark Humphrey / associated Press) The gamesmanship is tolerated, if no longer inspired, as a way to stage the enjoying box, allowing a group like Honduras, which has 14 avid gamers from the country’s domestic Liga Nacional, to compete with a team just like the U.S., which has 13 gamers from first-division groups in Europe. And it’s worked. dating to the beginning of the ultimate qualifying cycle in 2016, the U.S. has won 30 of 36 games with CONCACAF teams performed in the U.S. however only 1 of eight played in Latin america or the Caribbean, with that lone win coming in a international locations League game towards Cuba that became held within the Cayman Islands. “In CONCACAF, no person gives a crap where you’re enjoying. no one offers a crap how tons funds you’re making or how famous you are or who you’re dating,” Lalas mentioned. “That astounding résumé that you have capability diddly squat when that whistle blows in CONCACAF. It’s the super equalizer.” Jurgen Klinsmann, who played on an international Cup winner in Germany, then coached the country to a third-place finish in the 2006 event, discovered it complicated to explain to pals in Europe how powerhouses like Mexico and the U.S., both ranked among the many precise 10 on the earth, may struggle in locations like Costa Rica, where the U.S. has not ever won. “The game is approached absolutely distinctive. The cases, the local weather, the container, the opposing lovers, the referee getting influenced,” mentioned Klinsmann, who received simply two of six street qualifiers as U.S. train. “in case you have France in opposition t Germany, home and away, the environments are very similar. The fields can be first rate, the referee should be neutral and the climate can be ok. however no longer in CONCACAF. “You truly don’t comprehend what is going to turn up. That makes it unpredictable.” occasionally simply getting to the online game in uniform is the greatest problem. right through arena’s first stint as coach, from 1998-2006, the crew’s bags changed into lost so frequently players have been required to pack their game boots in their lift-on baggage. The group at last switched to charter flights. There can also be a political facet to the video games. “You’re not simply the opposition, you're the us,” Lalas spoke of. “That rachets it as much as an entire different level because this might be their one possibility to superior the USA in anything.” “here is every thing for each nation,” Beasley brought. “and that they do every little thing of their power to assist their nation gain an advantage over the united states. “They make certain the video game is as uncomfortable as feasible.” U.S. teach Gregg Berhalter knows that, having appeared in 14 qualifiers all the way through his enjoying days. So he’s limited his crew’s time on the highway, arriving in each El Salvador and Honduras under 30 hours earlier than kickoff for this month’s two highway qualifiers. and maybe fearing some chicanery after remaining week’s game in San Salvador, he rushed his players onto the bus, in uniform, moments after the closing whistle, following a police escort again to the resort the place they showered and changed. “The narrative about CONCACAF away video games is there,” he said. “It’s practically the way you settle for it. It’s about how you go about preparing mentally and realizing that there’s at all times going to be things that turn up that you simply deserve to be capable of respond to.” On Wednesday, the U.S. needs to reply with a influence or the street forward will get in reality treacherous. 먹튀검증

#먹튀검증

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joshslater · 4 years

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Russian Dolt Multiverse

Continuation of Russian Dolt. Similar stories and bonus material on my Patreon.

Russian history in four words: then things got worse. Russian story in four worlds:

Universe Один

My first thought was to get a bucket of ice, but I doubt this hotel has an ice machine, and I didn’t really care to put on any clothes just to find out. I walked into the bathroom and let the shower run on the coldest setting. After a minute I had to resign to it not being any cooler, this is the Philippines after all, and begun showering my cock and balls. Who is stupid enough to buy a solid, metal cock ring in the first place? If it wasn’t bad enough cock and ball torture to have a ring on for so many hours, though no idea exactly how many, having it doused in cold water certainly added to the sensory experience. At first nothing happened, but once the ring itself was coming down in temperature I started to see movement, and then it went quickly. The pain when the blood started moving properly was something otherworldly. I’ve had the odd sleeping leg from surfing to much while on the toilet, but this was that times thousand.

I cranked the temperature back up again and just stood there and soaked in the shower, trying to think about as little as possible. When I started to feel like a person again, albeit one who needed a smoke, I realized I should try to freshen up best I could. I’d already ruined some of it by showering hot before using soap, trapping much of the scent of cum and sweat in the pores that had now shut closed by the expanding skin. I still did an attempt using the dinky hotel soap. Shampoo would be pointless, looking like this. When I came to soaping my ass I paused. It didn’t feel right, like my anus was protruding a little. I didn’t hurt though, so I just assumed it was a side effect of the night’s adventure and would sort itself given time.

There wasn’t much to wear, and less I wanted to wear in the room. I found a bottle of body spray and a slightly distressed black T-shirt, that I combined with the jeans and the flip flops from the day before. I didn’t know how long I had the room for, if it was paid in advance, or anything, so I took another look around the room and saw nothing I would miss. The ear studs might be worth something, so I kept them on, and I pocketed the mysterious ring, but everything else I left in the room with the full knowledge it might all have been thrown out by the time I got back.

I really wanted to inhale as deep and as fast as possible, but I forced myself to savor the cigarette I lit as soon as I entered the street. It felt healthier, though it probably was at least as bad. But then the streets in Manila isn’t all that great for lung health either. I had started to walk with no particular goal in mind, but decided to at least have a look at my old hotel. Not because I had any hope of finding anything useful there, but I just didn’t have anything else to do.

With no clear memory of the way, no cellphone to guide and no money to be driven, it took more than an hour to get back. As I’m closing in on the hotel I see someone in my peripheral that looks familiar. Turn and see the hulking body of Boris lumbering towards my destination. He is marginally better dressed than last I saw him, and is carrying a canvas bag. We are quite far apart, and I saw him first, but as soon as he sees me he stops walking. He is just standing there for a good ten seconds, after which he turns and walk the other direction. I want to run up to him and ask him what the fuck they have done with my body, but he is too far away and I’m too damaged after the night’s events. Fuck! Perhaps he was returning to pick something up? I saw no reason to change my plan.

It was fully morning by now, and someone from the bell service at the hotel walked up to me as soon as I entered the lobby, asking if they could help. That was code for “you don’t belong”. I told him I know which room to get to, and thanked my luck this hotel didn’t require any key card for the elevator.

I was somehow hesitant, standing outside my old hotel door. The longer I waited, longer it would take until my fears were confirmed. I made a soft knock on the door.

Nothing happened.

I make a more forceful knock on the door.

As I open my eyes the light hurts. I hear a thud against the door. I look around and see the hotel room I checked in to two days ago. The bed is made, but someone has clearly been lying on it. To my left, on a small table, is a line of small, empty mini bar bottles. I’m just about to scratch my forehead when the faint chime-like rattle of chains made me look at the cuff around my wrist. It takes a moment to click that I am in my body again. My real body.

There is a knock on the door. Unsteadily I walk towards the door and open it. On the other side is Mikhail, rubbing his head. “You could knock first, remove ring not first. Not opposite order.”

The ring! “I removed the ring in your hotel room. Nothing happened.”

“Ah.” Mikhail nodded, and then waved his hand toward the mini bar empties. “Doesn’t work unless both are conscious. I got bored.” He stood still for a bit. “You was not bored. Was good?”

“да“

Universe Два

The rattle of key in keyhole snaps me out of my self pity, and in panic I dive into the bed sheets, only to immediately be reminded of why they are damp and sticky. I hope I can scare away room service before she realizes what a mess the room is in. But the door doesn’t swing open to reveal a tiny Asian lady. Instead a huge German wearing a tank top that barely contain his muscles confidently walks into the room. He carries a few different plastic shopping bags in his large hands. As soon as he sees me his serious face gets brighter with a smile.

“So, you are awake, ja. Schlept gut?” “да, but am sore all over.” “Entschuldigung, but I wanted to be back before you awake, but I got late. I saw your big friend from the bar.” “You met Boris?” “No, I saw him. He was taken by police. Don’t know why. Do you?”

Was this in any way related to me, or why I wasn’t swapping back to my body? Perhaps by just talking to the police this would all be sorted. Or perhaps they are really after Mikhail, and for all practical purposes I am him now. I could be shot before the end of the day.

“No. No idea.” “Gut”

He was smiling again, as he placed the bags on the small table and pulled the sheet that covered me.

“Oh, mein Gott. Your dick color. Hurts, ja?” “Yes. Hurts.”

He dove into one of the bags and pulled out some sort of medicinal cream tube, and a condom pack. He ripped open the condom pack, and used the condom as a glove, squeezed a large dollop of the gel from the tube onto my dick, and started to carefully cover it all with the condomed hand. Working quickly he then moved down and did the same to my balls. “Move less” he said, as if I didn’t understand my squirming made things difficult for him. The pain was however disappearing quickly. “It’s Anästhetikum. Makes it hurt less.”

He then tossed the condom in the trash bucket, grabbed another bag and picked out a few cans of beers and two cups from the top, and placed them on the night stand. Next he picked up a bag of ice, wet with condensation from the humidity. He tore it open, grabbed a fistful of ice, and cupped my dick and balls with it. Amazingly I didn’t feel a thing, except the cold water against my thighs. Only a minute or so later he dunked the remains of the ice in the plastic cups, and I could feel him slipping my dick, and then my nut sack, out of the ring. He put the ring down on the nightstand as well.

“So. You should feel again in one or two hour. Now bier.”

He opened one of the cans and poured into the cups with ice. Dark and foamy. “Bayerisches Bier” he proclaimed proudly, handing me a cup. He emptied his without waiting and promptly refilled it. “Wait for ice to it cool, ja.”

I carefully tasted my beer. It was strong in flavor, high in proof, and cold enough with so much ice in such a small cup. I realized that his eyes were glued on me. Suddenly he lept forward and kissed my mouth forcefully, making me spill half my cup of beer. I managed to put the cup back on the nightstand and wrapped my arms around my German. He kissed me close to asphyxiation before he pulled away. “I want you to move in, ja. Stay in my place.” That came completely unexpected, but I knew I wanted nothing more, just as he said it. What good was a nice apartment if you never saw it? I had enjoyed living as a lone, travelling salesman, but this right here was passion. In a way the choice had already been made for me. With this new body I couldn’t go back to the life I knew.

“I am happy to.” I answered. He noticed that my dick had perked up again, despite what it had been through. He carefully touched it, and I winced. It was bruised and raw, but I still hadn’t cum all night. He stroke my body, and my chin and then got up from the bed. Slowly he stepped out of his camo cargo shorts and his jockstrap, revealing his large, erect cock. He grabbed both my legs and carefully, almost tenderly, moved me towards him and inserted his dick into my abused ass.

Lying on my back our eyes were locked, as he slowly begun to gyrate his hips, moving his dick head back and forth over my prostate. I wanted to resist, but he had obviously set a goal to have me cum as soon as possible. To have my decision sealed not in blood, but in cum. I had been teased all night and it didn’t take much to splatter my body up to my neck in my own cum.

Universe три

I didn’t know what else to expect from the day, so I savored the coffee. Coffee and cigarette is such a cliche, but I’ve never been a smoker before. When I tried smoking in school once I hadn’t yet tasted coffee. But now everything made so much sense. One might argue I shouldn’t spend my last cash on a coffee, but I would argue there is no point saving such small amounts.

With the cup completely dry, it was time to figure out what to do next. The hotel wasn’t far off. I’d seen it while looking for a place to affordably drink a coffee. The hotel wasn’t one such place though , so I found this little cafe to have a calm moment before facing reality. The hot and humid air hit me as soon as I exit the cool cafe and walk the block down to the hotel.

As I enter the hotel lobby there is a weird vibe. A few guests are scattered around, and mostly ignores me, but the staff is pretending to not stare. I guess I am out of place, looking the way I do.

I take the elevator to my floor. As I exit I immediately see one of the cleaning carts from the room service standing by my door. Shit. I should have tried to come earlier, before they erased all clues. As I get closer I see the door opposite my room is opened, and my door handle still has a “Do not disturb” sign on it. I sigh a slight relief and knock on the door.

It takes just a second and the door swung in, and before I had a chance to see who was opening it something hit me in the back, pushing me tumbling forward. Someone grabbed my shoulders slowed my fall from totally crashing into the floor. There was something pushing hard on my back, just below the neck. I could feel my arms pulled together, and then cuffed. People were talking Filipino, a radio squeaked, someone was pressing something against my fingers, and I could only see boots and tactical trousers.

Just as I started to comprehend that the police had me arrested, I was lifted to my feet and pushed out of the room. Two police men were marching me towards the elevator, down through the lobby and out into a waiting police car. I asked “What is happening?”, “Where are you taking me?” and similar questions with obvious and useless answers, until one of them told me to shut up

We sat in silence in the car for what felt like 20 minutes, when finally a plain clothes officer approached the car. The driver lowered the window, and I assume for my benefit, the plain cloths officer spoke in English.

“It’s him. His fingerprints are all over the cuffs.”

Universe четыре

I was utterly confused when I woke up in a hotel bed, but then memories started trickle in. The body swap. I clearly was still in Mikhail’s body, I knew, because I could feel it. I felt sore. Wait, why was I still in Mikhail’s body? Looking around I could see I was in the bed in his shitty hotel room, no German to be found. I got up while the whole body was screaming in agony. The bed sheets were pretty much ruined with semen and other fluids. What a mess. My head throbbed with a hangover worse than I have ever experienced before. I stumbled over to the mirror.

Young, muscled, and well-hung were the bright side of what I saw. Everything else I saw in the mirror disgusted me, even more now than when I swapped into it yesterday. I was naked except for the thumb ring and a cock ring. The dick and balls looked bruised, a dangerously purple color. I tentatively touched the dick and pleasure tinged pain shot through my body. It was swollen and had a dull ache, but a small part of me even wanted to play with this dick some more, as I was still horny as fuck. I didn’t remember cumming. I didn’t even dare to think about the agony it would be to remove that cock ring. My thoughts went to the other ring. I’ve had enough of this. It was time to end this experience, exciting as it might have been.

I removed the ring.

Immediately I looked down at my face. It had the wrong color. The mouth was open, the eyes bloodshot and the chain from the handcuff was wrapped around the throat. In horror I let go of the chain and stepped away from the body. It looked dead. The neck looked weird, as if the chain had broken something inside of it.

I stumbled, hit a desk, and almost cried out. The body was unfamiliar and bulky. I looked into the mirror on the wall above the desk. Staring back at me was the Russian brick shithouse made of meat, Boris.

The sensation was completely different from Mikhail, and not just in the obvious way of being taller and beefier, or the lack of bruising from a night of rough sex. There were no cravings to smoke or drink. This guy must have treated himself well, but then you don’t get a body like this if your don’t.

The irony of that thought made me chuckle out loud. I hadn’t done anything to get his body. Why was I in it? I removed the leather glove and looked at my hand. One of those rings were on the thumb. I look at my dead body’s hand. No ring. Whatever he had been up to, he had managed to swap me into his body and probably him into Mikhail’s body.

I started to feel dread. Whatever reason he had for doing this was not going to be good for me, I felt. I needed to leave the hotel right away. I resisted the urge to take any of my belongings with me. Clothes were worthless, phone and computer could probably be tracked. I didn’t really have any money in the wallet, just cards, and any use of them could also be tracked.

There was a canvas bag on the floor I didn’t recognize. I picked it up and exited the room. There were no cameras in the corridor that I could see. I took the stairs on floor down, put the gloves in the bag. Then I took the elevator down to the lobby and tried my best to look as calm as possible while walking out. In my mind I was screaming “I didn’t murder myself, it was this body.”

Not far from the hotel I saw a cafe, and apparently I had plenty of cash in my wallet, so I decided for a coffee. Only a few sips in I could tell this body wasn’t used to that, and I was in for a massive shit within the hour. Let’s add that to the list of problems. If it isn’t the police that will get me, it is whatever Boris was running from.

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