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firstofficerwiggles · 3 years

Text

Dress Code, Part 2

Link to Part 1, Part 3 (T rated), Part 3 (M rated)

Pairing: Din Djarin x female reader

Rating: T

Warnings: Some swearing, Jealous!Din, sexy dancing, touching

Summary: You continue to challenge Din about what you choose to wear. Pretty fluffy overall. Plans for a Part 3.

Word Count: ~4200

Author’s Note: I am not good at making up planet names so I will admit to totally stealing these. Eridani is the name of a real star and Alastria and Chantil are both from Star Trek. Also again a little hint of Ed Sheeran in the dancing scene.

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“Are you serious? More snow?” Your voice is incredulous as you fly over the frosted winter landscape of the planet Alastria. It’s been two weeks since you won your wager against the Mandalorian and you haven’t had any opportunity to wear anything that he could consider even remotely revealing. First he took you to Hoth, and although you and the child had a great time playing in the snow, you spent the whole time covered in sweaters and a giant parka. You had laughed it off though, enjoying his cleverness at finding a way to circumvent your win. But then, he had dragged you to Eridani and Chantil each one colder than the next. Plus to add to his diabolical plan, he has purposely been keeping the Razor Crest’s internal temperature low in order to ‘save on fuel’ so you can’t even wear your lighter clothes on board. You’ve been so covered up you might as well be wearing your own suit of beskar.

You suppose it hasn’t been all that bad though, you begrudgingly admit to yourself. The three of you have been spending more time together as you’ve been traveling. Lately it seems like Din always finds a way to be around you and the child. In the past he’s preferred his pilot’s seat while flying even with the autopilot engaged, but now he seems to find little projects to do wherever you are. Like the evening you were cuddled up with the baby telling him various fairy tales and Din had sat near you both spending the whole time cleaning the same blaster. Or when you were baking cookies, and he had decided to reorganize some supplies that happened to be right next to where you were working. Finally, the other day he had even thrown off the pretense of being busy and joined in and helped you and the child build a blanket fort in the hull. As the baby napped on a pile of pillows inside the fort, Din had stayed with you in there, just resting for once while you both had the chance.

With all of this closeness, you had hoped there might be some movement on the romantic front between the two of you, but there hasn’t been anything definitive in that area. You must have replayed him calling you ‘sweetheart’ a million times in your head, but he hasn’t said anything like that again. You’ve tried to show him how interested you are, wearing your necklace everyday so he can see it, smiling at him as much as possible, teasing him, and going so far as to touch him with little brushes of your hand, a pat on the shoulder, or even a squeeze of his arm whenever you get the opportunity. He seems receptive enough to your flirting, yet he’s given you so little response you wonder if he’s realized what you’re trying to do.

The Mandalorian’s voice brings you out of your musing, “I thought we could visit my old mentor, Davi. His town might be in the mountains, but it’s nice, I think you’ll like it, despite the cold.” He smirks a little under his helmet. He knows he should probably feel a bit guilty at the tour of icy worlds he’s been giving you, but honestly, he’s been enjoying getting under your skin each time you land on another freezing planet and he hears you sigh over having to bundle up again. He should probably admit to himself that he does miss seeing your dresses, but you look cute even under all those layers. Plus he was right, your necklace looks good with all of those sweaters and heavy knits you’ve been forced to wear.

“Who is Davi?” you ask, curious to know more about Din’s past.

“He sponsored me when I first joined the guild. I was his apprentice for two years before I starting hunting my own bounties.” Din tells you. “He’s retired now, and he lives with his niece, Isa. I think you’ll like them both.”

Even with the snow and ice, you can see that Davi and Isa’s town is charming, and you enjoy the quaint buildings with their pretty trim. It reminds you of the gingerbread houses you used to make as a child in the winter. The majestic mountains make for a stunning backdrop too and you are glad that Din brought you here. He notices the happy light in your eyes as he says, “I knew you’d like it here,” rather smugly.

“Yes, yes, you know everything,” you reply, rolling your eyes only slightly at him.

You arrive at a brightly lit home that oozes warmth and coziness from its frosty windows, and when Davi throws open the door, you receive a cordial welcome that makes you feel like he is your old friend too. Davi is thrilled to see Din and even more delighted to meet you and the baby. Even though Din has introduced you as his friend, Davi teases the Mandalorian about finally meeting his lovely family. Davi’s niece, Isa is also quite pleased to meet you and she even hugs you in greeting. She’s a pretty young woman in her early 20s with bright eyes and a cheerful smile.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” she tells you excitedly, “I thought I was in for another ‘guy’s visit’ having to hear all of their old hunting tales again.”

“Oh come on, Isa, you love that story about the crazy Gungan we had to chase through the swamp,” Davi reminds her with a laugh.

“Sure, maybe the first 100 times I heard it,” Isa retorts. “I’m looking forward to some quality girl time instead.”

“That sounds great,” you tell her. You have been living in a heavily testosterone-laden climate and it has been forever since you’ve had the opportunity to hang out with another woman and just do ‘girl’ things. “What did you have in mind?”

“I’d love to go shopping and maybe get our hair styled too?” She suggests, “There’s this great party tonight and I wanna look fabulous!”

“Count me in!” you reply enthusiastically. You look over at Din for a moment though, hoping he’s not going to insist that he needs to accompany you shopping like he usually does. But he’s obviously comfortable here and he just gives you a small nod. “Let’s go now.”

Isa notices your exchange with interest, but doesn’t say anything, yet. She can’t wait to get you alone though and grill you all about your relationship with the mysterious warrior. You head back out into the snowy streets with Isa chatting excitedly about the shops and the fantastic salon that she’ll be taking you to. You arrive at a store with many party dresses, they’re beautiful but most of them are a bit risqué too. You’re just starting to look when Isa interrupts you with “Ok, spill, I want to hear all about you and Mando.”

“There’s not much to tell, I’m the nanny to his foundling.” You try to tell her, but your cheeks flush and she knows there’s more.

“Oh c’mon, I can tell you’re not ‘just-the-nanny’,” she laughs lightly. “He’s never ever brought a woman to meet Davi before.”

“Well, a few weeks ago I thought there was more starting to happen between the two of us,” you say and then tell her about the necklace and your silly wager. “I really thought that was leading to something…” you trail off and shrug, “but I guess not?”

“What?!? There is definitely something happening,” Isa asserts. “That was super romantic of him to buy you that necklace, and he clearly gets jealous of other men paying attention to you. He likes you.” She says it like it’s a fact. “You like him, don’t you?”

“Maker, I do, so much, probably too much,” you admit to Isa. “He’s the best man I’ve ever known. I know he seems rough and dangerous, and he can be, but he is also very kind, respectful, and considerate. You should see how gentle and soft he can be with the child. I don’t even care that I’ve never seen his face.”

“Your whole face lights up when you talk about him,” Isa is beaming at you. “I think you need to tell him how much you care.”

“But if he doesn’t feel the same way, it will just make everything awkward and weird.” You want to believe Isa, that Mando reciprocates your feelings, but the alternative scares you too much.

“He feels the same way.” She is confident about that. “But, maybe you could just give him a little push, feel him out more,” she says, raising an eyebrow at you.

“What are you suggesting?”

“Let’s find you a killer dress and make sure he takes you to this party tonight.” Isa turns back to the dresses pulling out several that are very sexy. “It’s in the hot springs caverns and it’s warm and steamy in there all the time,” Isa explains.

“Wait, so no bundling up?” you ask hopefully.

“Just for the walk there, but once we’re inside you’ll be plenty warm. So, we’re going find you something that shows plenty of skin,” Isa declares.

Gathering a pile of garments, Isa pulls you to the dressing rooms and then you both try on several looks that range from seductive to downright lascivious. She is partial to an electric blue dress that is tight on her figure and has several cutouts exposing various sections of her skin. The dress you find is surprise, surprise, silver, in a halter style. The bodice is tight fitting with a deep vee that ends just at the top of your stomach before flaring out into a flirty mini skirt looking like molten metal is pouring off of your hips. Your back is almost totally bare save for two delicate straps that cross over one another to hold the bodice in place. It is a lot more skin than you normally show, but you have to admit you look great. Light winks off of your necklace and you smile to yourself thinking about how your Mandalorian might react to seeing you like this.

“That’s the one!” Isa announces handing you a pair of strappy stilettos to try on with the dress. They are the perfect final touch. The rest of your time with Isa passes quickly in a happy haze of hair styling and gossip. She tells you about her friends and the guy she wants to impress. You’re really looking forward to tonight, but you’re worried, “How are we going to convince Mando to go to this party?” you wonder to Isa, “It’s not really his thing.”

“Leave everything to me.” Isa sounds like she is up for the challenge.

You and Isa return to her home giggling cheerfully about your big plans for the evening. Din loves seeing you so happy, his only regret is that you can’t have more days like this one. He had a long talk with Davi about all that has happened since he first found the child and the dangerous path it has thrust all three of you on. Fortunately for Din, his old mentor is more tactful than his niece merely providing a friendly ear as Din lists all of his concerns for your life with him. Davi can tell that Din cares for you more than he is admitting, but he doesn’t push the point. Instead, he calmly suggests that you appear to be able to meet the trials of living with a bounty hunter, otherwise you probably would have left by now. Din nodded in agreement to that, making Davi smile knowingly to himself.

As you sit down to dinner with everyone, Isa chats animatedly about your fun day together and suggests that you prolong your visit by a few days. Din, who ate his own meal in private beforehand, seems amenable to the idea, this town is fairly remote and only Greef Karga remembers Mando’s connection to Davi. As Isa talks, she manages to casually bring up the party to her uncle. Din is only half-listening as he is focused on the baby actually eating his food and not playing with it, until Isa says, “And you don’t have to worry about our safety, Uncle, because Mando will be there to watch over us!”

“Wait, what are you saying?” Din’s head snaps up.

“I think it’s a great idea!” Davi replies, delighted, “The ladies are all excited for you to take them to that party in the caverns tonight.”

“A party?” Din sounds like you are going to drag him to a deadly ambush. Except he feels more confident that he can handle the deadly ambush.

“Oh come on, you’re still a young man, you’ll have a wonderful time with these beautiful women. And I can take care of the little one,” Davi urges him, “after all he loves his Uncle Davi.” Davi tickles the child under the chin and receives a joyful coo in return.

“Please, Mando,” you give him your most hopeful look, “I promise we’ll have fun.”

Din sighs, but he knows he can’t say no when you’re looking at him like that, he’s not made of stone. “Alright.”

“Great! We’ll go get dressed!” Isa springs into action pulling you with her. You both manage to get ready in record time knowing that you don’t want to give Din any opportunity to back out on your plans. Before you leave her room though, both you and Isa make sure your cloaks are completely covering your outfits for the night. You caution Isa that if Din has even one inkling of what you have on, you won’t be going anywhere. You are thankful your cloak is so long that only the toes of your shoes peek out.

Isa leads you out of town towards the caverns and you see other young people heading in your direction. She discreetly stays ahead of you and Din the whole time under the guise of being the leader but mostly so you two are walking side by side. The new shoes are higher than anything you’ve worn for a while so you lean in and take Din’s arm. He seems to take this as perfectly natural and helps steady you on your feet. When you arrive at the caverns, balmy air hits you and you breathe it in welcoming the warmth. Isa ushers you in and leads you to a place where you can leave your cloaks. You can’t resist being a bit dramatic now that your big moment is here and you let your cloak drop from your shoulders in one fluid motion before handing it over. Then you do a small twirl to let the Mandalorian get a good look at you.

Din’s mouth goes completely dry and he feels like his heart skips several beats as he takes you in. He is thankful that his helmet hides his expression because there is no way he could hide the raw desire he is feeling right now. You look more gorgeous than he could have imagined. The silvery dress makes your curves sparkle alluringly and all he can think about is running his hands all over the silky looking material and then moving on to all of your soft exposed skin. Plus the color of the dress perfectly matches his armor, making it look like you belong with him. He feels as if all of the blood in his body is rushing to one sensitive spot and it’s making him slightly lightheaded. You are smiling at him expectantly, but he has forgotten how to speak. He has to clear his throat twice before he can ground out, “What is that?”

Ok, that wasn’t what you expected him to say. “It’s my new dress,” you retort, a little exasperated.

“That is not a dress. That is pieces of fabric pretending to be a dress.” He sounds frustrated and like he is trying to control himself.

“Hey, you remember our deal, you can’t say anything critical about my clothing.” You give him a pointed look.

“You look like walking sex.” He hisses at you.

“Well, I am going to take that as a compliment.” You flip your hair over your shoulder and huff off in the direction of Isa and a group of friends she has found. If Mando wants to be a fuddy-duddy all night, you’re going to let him. Isa is fun and you’re sure her friends will be too. You put your smile back on and square your shoulders in determination as you stride over towards them.

The caverns have been lit with several colorful lights which bounce off of the icy walls and the pools of hot steaming water. There’s a band playing music with a strong beat, a lively dance floor, and several servers circulating with fancy drinks. Isa cheerfully introduces you to her friends, one of whom is a handsome man with golden brown hair and a charming smile, named Guy. He seems to be a bit of a scoundrel, but when he voices how beautiful you are, you can’t help but be flattered. He’s telling you about his job as a pilot for a transport ship, trying to impress you with tales about near misses with ex-Imperials, when he notices the Mandalorian who is not-so-subtly invading your personal space.

Din had watched you walk away, a bit mesmerized by your swinging hips. Of course, by the time he gets his feet moving in your direction, some asshole is already flirting with you. He sees the man flash you a toothy smile and he even has the audacity to lean in and pick up your necklace, Din’s necklace, under the guise of admiring it, all the while staring blatantly at your breasts. Din hears his pulse roaring in his ears as he comes to loom over you and glare at this jerk.

“Hi, Mando,” you say a little sarcasm in your voice at the greeting, “meet Isa’s friend, Guy.”

“Guy?” Mando drawls out incredulously.

“Hey man, nice to meet you,” Guy is affable. “Didn’t catch your name?”

Mando just stares at him and then says, “Seriously, your name is Guy?”

“Guy was just telling me about making the Kuiper run in under 20 parsecs,” you break into the frosty exchange.

“Impossible,” is all Mando says drily.

“No, really,” Guy insists, “I managed to do it by skimming by a black hole.”

“It’s impossible,” Mando says again.

“Maybe you and Guy can trade piloting tips?” you say, adding a small chuckle to ease the tension.

“Not fucking interested.” Mando is being downright rude to him. You’ve never known him to act this way to someone who wasn’t a threat. Luckily, Isa comes to your rescue as she brings her friend Lisbeth over to meet Mando. He seems to come back to himself a bit and is polite as he greets Isa’s friend.

“Are you two together?” Guy questions you nodding his head in Din’s direction.

“Not like that,” you reply, “we’re just friends.” But you say it as if you don’t really believe it.

“You sure?” Guy smiles shrewdly at you.

“Well, he’s never said otherwise,” you conclude with a small shrug.

“In that case, how would you like to dance with me?” Guy holds out his hand to you and gives you a wink. You can’t help but glance back at Mando for a moment, but then turn your gaze back to Guy and say yes. You don’t imagine that Din will ask you to dance anyway as he seems determined to be a grump tonight, plus you’re pretty certain he doesn’t know how to dance.

Guy leads you to the crowded floor and you begin moving to the beat of the heart-pumping music. At first you’re just dancing next to Guy but then he starts closing the distance between you two and eventually puts his hands on your hips. He pulls you in a little closer to him but then suddenly he’s gone, being shoved away roughly by a beskar-clad arm.

“If you’re going to dance, you’re going to dance with me.” Mando tells you possessively. His hands replacing Guy’s on your hips, pulling you in close to him.

“Mando!” you squeak out in surprise at his abrupt appearance. “Is he ok?” You turn your head to look for Guy, embarrassed that Din has so rudely dismissed him.

“I don’t give a damn,” Din tells you as he reaches up and turns your chin so that you are looking back at him. Ironically, the lead singer of the band is belting out a warning to a woman not to fuck with his love. You face flushes as you look into the black visor of the helmet.

“I- I didn’t think you’d want to dance,” you stammer out, stunned by his actions.

“You didn’t give me a chance to ask you,” he replies and he begins to direct your hips to sway with his to the music. You move with him in a sultry pattern. You were wrong, Din does know how to dance. You move your arms up to encircle his neck as you let yourself relax into the movements, your bodies syncing together with the beat.

As the music changes a bit, he turns you in his arms and pulls you against him until you are flush with his body. You lean into his chest feeling the cool metal of his cuirass against your bare back and he dips his head down to your ear, and says “I like dancing with you.” His voice seems huskier than normal.

“I do too,” you tell him in reply. You’re feeling bolder now and you roll your hips over his and brush against something hard that is definitely not beskar. He groans deeply and then turns you around again so he can look in your eyes as he asks, “Do you have any idea what you do to me?”

“I think I have some idea,” you say flirtatiously and give him a wink. He pulls you back into him with a growl and guides your body into a move so sensual it makes your head spin. His hands are on your bare back now and even though it’s only the leather of his gloves that touch you, the heat coming off of them is undeniable. You can’t resist telling him, “Your hands feel good on me.” He doesn’t say anything in reply but merely tightens his grip on you and then lets his hands explore more of your back.

You lose track of time as you focus only on the Mandalorian and the way you move together. You’ve both become quieter the more you dance as if you no longer can handle verbally teasing each other and just want to feel. Each song blends into the next, and it’s like you are the only two people in the room. A sonic charge could go off and you wouldn’t even notice. When the lights flicker to signal the end of the party, you’re surprised. It takes you a moment to come back to reality, you feel like you’ve just awoken from the middle of an intoxicating dream and your head is a little dizzy. Fortunately, Din seems more in control, and he guides you towards Isa and the exit. Isa! You completely forgot about her. When you reach her, she gives you a sneaky smile and hands you your cloak. As you take it from her, she leans in and whispers, “I told you so.” Din takes the cloak from your hands and places it around your shoulders covering you back up against the cold. Then he takes your hand in his and threads his fingers through yours as he leads you back out into the dark night. All three of you are quiet as you walk back to Isa’s home. When you arrive, Din tells Isa, “We won’t come in, we’ll just let the child sleep here and come back in the morning.”

“Not too early,” Isa says rather cheekily, “I’m sure you’ll need your rest.”

As you head back to the ship with Din, your stomach flips at the idea of being alone with him all night. You shiver a little in anticipation.

“Are you cold?” he asks, noticing the shiver.

“Only a little,” you tell him, not wanting to give away the real reason.

“Maybe you should be wearing more clothing,” Din says, but there is a teasing tone to his voice now.

You reach the ship and head inside. It’s a little chilly in there but not as bad as you thought it might be. You whisk your cloak off of you again, headless of the cold, wanting Din to see you in the dress again.

“I’ll make you a new deal,” he says, his helmet moving up and down as if he is looking you over. “I’ll take you to some warmer planets and I won’t complain about your clothing, but only if you promise to never wear that dress in public again.”

The dress has served its purpose, better than you could have anticipated. “Alright, it’s a deal,” you tell him with a smile.

“Although,” Din drawls out, “if you want to wear it again when we’re alone together, I’d like that.”

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Thank you for reading! I promise there will be a Part 3 (if I can, I’ll do one T rated and one M rated). Please let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list.

@sleepwithacommunist @im-the-nerdiest-of-them-a11 @rueblogsthings @mackycat11 @tv-zepeda @remmyswritings @dee-rosemary @boomtownboy @mandosboobiez @hoodjarin @haley7242

#the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x female reader #din djarin x female reader #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin fanfiction

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florvinhara · 3 years

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♡: Accidentally falling asleep together for kira/m please!

ahhh thank you so much! <3 i think this is actually the first time i’ve written M so hopefully it’s ok! here is some Confused kira/mason post-bakery content:

The roof is surprisingly empty when Kira slides through the window, hoping to leave behind the uneasy visions of blood and watchful eyes that shook her from sleep.

She’s grown accustomed to clambering up here on restless nights and seeing Mason already there, silhouetted against the darkness, but tonight there’s only the expanse of the forest around her, the bristling outline of the trees melting into the velvet black of the star-studded sky. A flicker of disappointment pricks at her mind, but she shakes it away; theoretically, she came out here for the peace and quiet, and anyway, ever since that stunt he pulled at the bakery, seeing him hurts a little, though she’s not entirely sure why.

It’s not like he was lying, she muses, taking her usual seat on the roof, legs dangling over the edge. Maybe it’s just that he blurted it out so cavalierly, in public. That’s probably it; if nothing else, she had thought they were friends, that they understood each other. Which is a reasonable assumption, she thinks crossly- after all, it is called friends with benefits, not person whose personal life I’m going to expose in public with benefits.

Kira shakes the train of thought away with an irritated sigh. She’s not out here to think about Mason, though admittedly, not thinking about Mason has become harder and harder recently, and if he were here and she’d said that out loud he’d probably make some flirtatious joke about things being ‘hard’, and damn it, she’s thinking about him again. At least it’s taking her mind off her other concerns, which are far more deadly than her mess of a social life.

She flops onto her back with a groan, and then narrowly avoids a heart attack when she opens her eyes to see Mason standing silently behind her like she summoned him with her thoughts. He smirks a little at the undignified yelp that escapes her as she flails back into a seated position. “What the hell, man? I nearly fell off the roof,” she snaps.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, I would have caught you,” he says in a casual and unexpectedly serious voice. She stares blankly at him for a moment, and he returns the look before running a hand through his hair with another, somewhat less convincing smirk. “You know, probably.”

“How reassuring,” she sighs, lying back again and closing her eyes. By now, it’s something of a habit for them to spend nights they can’t (or in his case, don’t need) sleep here, sitting side by side until the first rays of daylight glaze the trees in rosy hues. There’s something peaceful about being here, something in the bracing air and Mason’s quiet warmth beside her that eases whatever worries or dark dreams chased her up to the rooftop in the first place. If she’s being honest with herself, she’s missed it recently; she’s been avoiding sleeping over at the Warehouse since that weird morning. But tonight she’d been far too tired to drive, and when she’d bolted from another nightmare, heart racing and hands shaking, she had come up to the roof without even thinking, instinctually seeking out the comfort she’s found here before.

A moment passes before she registers the absence of the sounds of Mason sitting down next to her, and opens her eyes again to see if he’s left. The idea makes another spark of discontent run down her spine, but when she checks she finds that he’s still there, still standing for some reason, shifting on his feet as he looks down at her. He almost looks uncertain, a little tense, but- no, that can’t be right. “Are you gonna sit down, or just keep hovering?” she asks.

It’s meant to be a joke, but there’s an uncharacteristic awkwardness blanketing the air around them, and she feels nervous for a second that he might really walk away, then annoyed at herself for being nervous, then perplexed at how relieved she feels when he nods once before he walks to his usual spot and sits, swinging his legs over the edge. When he leans back, his fingers brush hers, graze the back of her hand lightly, and neither of them pull away.

The gentle contact sends a sparkle of contented warmth up her arm, loops around her shoulders like a soft scarf and relieves tension there she didn’t even realize she was carrying. Objectively, it’s ridiculous- it’s not like they haven’t touched before, a lot more than this, but somehow, this feels… different, new and almost too natural for her to be confused. Almost.

She chances a look over at him, staring over the treetops with a relaxed expression entirely at odds with the one he’d been wearing before. The thick aura of unease that had been settled over the rooftop has dissipated entirely, replaced with a soft, feather-light calm that washes over her like a breeze. It strikes her that even when she’d gotten to the roof earlier, she’d still felt agitated, unable to shake off the swirl of conflicted feelings and residual nightmare-fear clinging to her. Only now does she feel at peace. So maybe she hadn’t really been looking for fresh air when she’d come up here. Maybe she’d just been looking for him.

The realization is shocking enough that it urges her to break the silence they’re sharing, something she’s usually loath to do.

“What is this?” she asks. It’s not exactly what she means- is this still just casual for you, what do you want us to be, is it just me- but it’s all she can bring herself to say when the risk of losing this moment, this everything, hangs in the balance.

He’s quiet for so long she thinks he’s not going to answer her. But finally- “I don’t know,” he admits.

So not just her, then. It’s reassuring, but a little frightening; it feels like they’ve boarded a train without a conductor and are barreling straight into the unknown with no control. If this were anything else, she’d jump off now, turn around, pull the brakes. Everything inside her yells that this is uncharted territory, this is danger, this might go terribly, horrifically wrong. She could leave now, move her hand away and retreat to the safety of the Warehouse, end whatever’s going on between them, but she glances over at him, the profile of his face, the way the moonlight kisses each freckle and makes his eyes shine like molten silver, and she knows in her heart that whatever the reason, she would never be able to do it. “Okay,” she says, gently knocking the back of her hand against his.

He turns to her, surprised eyes glinting dove-grey, then slowly nods and lets them flutter closed as he repositions to lie back. This close, all she can hear is his steady breathing, all she can feel is the comforting warmth of his body heat. She looks at him once more, and seeing his tranquil countenance is all it takes to lull her into a restful slumber.

Tomorrow, when she wakes up before dawn to find him actually sleeping, still by her side, she’ll be so spellbound that it’ll take her a few minutes to remember that they can’t leave things at ‘I don’t know’ forever, that she’s still kind of annoyed about what he said in the bakery, that in whatever spare seconds they can scrounge up between investigating kidnappings and evading the legions of trappers and Red Cross employees out for her blood they’ll need to figure themselves out. But for tonight it’s enough to share this serenity, to be each other’s respite from the world below.

#oof ok now im doubting everything again but here it is!#ahhhh thank you so much for the prompt!!#<333 #agent m #twc #zephwriting

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minsimagines · 4 years

Text

what’s in a name pt.3 - end | demon!jk

previous part

A/N: images are not mine, i’ve just put together the collage. credit to owners! last part, thanks for all the lovely feedback!!

warnings: physical fighting, fires, passing out.

summary: On the day she’s about to turn 18 years old, Y/N finds out she belongs to a demon.

tags: @fangirls94 @doremifa-so-fucking-done @looking4mymagicshop

★ ⋆ ✰ ✦ ☾ ✮ ⁎ ★ ⋆ ✰ ☾ ⁎ ✦ ✮ ⁎ ☾ ★ ⋆ ✰

Everything was a blur.

Jungkook moved so fast, fists turning that same terrifying black as it had done when he had showed you earlier that week. He attacked the blond man, though the man quickly retaliated. They moved like shadows, disappearing in the thin air, reappearing in the other end of the room, before disappearing and reappearing, over and over again.

The other men seemed on edge, though they didn’t do anything. You watched the fight in front of you, a hand covering your mouth in fear.

There was fire and smoke everywhere, and you subconsciously took several steps back, towards the corner of the room. Their punches sounded like cracks of thunder as their fists hit each other’s skin. Your eyes flickered to the other men. Three of them were watching, almost waiting for their own turn to fight. Two were watching you, their eyes cold, heads tilted as if trying to figure you out.

You didn’t like their stares. You didn’t like them. Jungkook wasn’t like them. Or maybe he was, but not to you. Not once had he called you anything crude or degraded you. He had some attitude problems for sure, but he wasn’t like them.

You slid down against the wall, your eyes glued to the scenes in front of you. The men, the ones around the table, were slowly being engulfed in the heavy smoke. You couldn’t tell where the fire was coming from, though it seemed to be coming from either Jungkook or the blond man. You’d heard some demon’s and other magical beings could do things like that. Impossible things.

It was hard to see. There was smoke everywhere. So much noise, so much anger in the air. You’d barely had time to hear what the man had said before Jungkook aimed for his head. But you had heard him. Loud and clear.

“He has tied his soul to yours.”

What the hell was that supposed to mean? You couldn’t even begin to get a grasp at it. You didn’t want to think about it. Trying to understand what the hell was going on was making your insides churn and your head ache. You knew one thing for certain; Jungkook had some serious explanation to do. You were petrified at what was going on, though you were also angry. You refused to be held in the shadows anymore. You needed answers.

As the smoke grew too heavy, you closed your eyes as they started to burn. There was an annoyed groan from one of the guys around the table. You couldn’t see him, but you could somewhat tell where it came from. It was getting hard to breathe, and you coughed. You pulled up the t-shirt to cover your mouth, put it didn’t help much.

Hands grabbed at your arms and you struggled in panic. You tried pulling your arms away, yelling to let you go, though a male voice shut you up.

“Follow me,” the voice grunted, and you swallowed thickly, feeling powerless. You let him drag you wherever it was he was taking you. Even though you were somewhat angry at Jungkook, you wished he’d see what was happening and help you out.

The man pulled you out onto the huge balcony and you gasped for clean air, your eyes landing on the man who’d taken you outside. You moved away from both him and the building, your eyes looking at the huge windows to the apartment, filled with smoke. Your eyes flickered back to the stranger. His face was serious, his hands in his pockets.

His hair was dark brown, somewhat held back by what looked like a black bandana. You watched him uneasily, wondering what was about to happen next. You jumped when a roar broke through the air, startling you. The man in front of you didn’t flinch.

“V,” Jungkook, who appeared besides the man out of thin air, shirt torn halfway off his body, hissed. “If you touch her again,” Jungkook threatened, his voice was dripping with venom. The brown-haired man blinked lazily at Jungkook.

“I had to, you were too busy to notice her choking,” the man explained, his expression unbothered. Jungkook’s eyes snapped towards you, the angry red in his gaze disappearing as they met your frightened one.

Jungkook moved towards you, one hand cupping your cheek, the other on your waist, eyes searching yours. Your lips parted slightly, surprised at how calm you felt as soon as he touched you. Your eyes flickered to the side as the blond he had been fighting appeared out of nowhere. You instinctively pushed Jungkook to the side, stepping in between them before Jungkook could react.

“Stop!”

You held your arms slightly out from your body, as if to shield Jungkook with yourself. You didn’t really know what you had expected to happen, though you would have guessed the man would either kill you in a strike or laugh at you for your feeble attempts at saving Jungkook.

What you had not expected was for the demon before you, eyes glaring red and half of his body literally on fire, to stop and stare at you as if you were a… well, you didn’t know what. Like he was rendered speechless. Your eyes watched his expression carefully, flickering around his body to look out for sudden movements, but none came.

Your gaze moved to the brown-haired man, who was looking at you with a similar expression, only a bit more… bored. Behind him, the other men had gathered, all staring at you.

“No way,” one of them whispered, his eyes wide. “But… she’s human,” another one whispered.

A hand gently wrapped around your arm and turned you around. Your eyes met Jungkook’s and his face looked almost serene as the sky turned darker. He was looking at you with an expression you couldn’t read, and he didn’t say anything, much to your displeasure. You wanted to know what was going on; what on earth you had been dragged into.

“Y/N…” he muttered, his eyes flickering over your features, and your chest almost contracted as he spoke your name. It was like your body was yearning for contact with his. It felt like your mind wasn’t your own. And maybe it wasn’t, maybe he was using his magic on you, but you knew – you didn’t want it to stop. Your breath was caught in your throat, speechless at this intense feeling in your chest.

“Feel it,” he whispered, and your mind flashed back to when he’d asked you that earlier.

“Do you feel it?”

Your brows inched closer together as your lips parted, though no sound came out. Feel what? What was it he wanted you to feel so badly? The intense longing for his touch on your skin? The confusion and fear, mixed with calmness, that was rushing through your veins? The anger and sadness of knowing your whole life had been a lie? His want to touch you? His - wait.

His?

Your eyes widened as you inhaled sharply. You could feel him. Why could you feel him? Why did you know what he was feeling? How did you know he wanted to touch you? How did you know he was happy?

A soft, soothing, drumming sound grew in your ears, yet it wasn’t from your adrenaline. Your eyes flickered down to his chest, where the sound seemed to come from.

It was his fucking heartbeat.

You stumbled backwards, your eyes roaming all over his body. You could hear the blood inside him, the soft and even breathing as if it was a blast of wind right in our ear, and you could feel his hunger.

“What… What’s happening?” You asked loudly, the sounds growing so powerful, you could barely hear yourself. Your hands rushed up to cover your ears, your eyes desperately searching his calm ones as he stepped closer to you.

“Calm down,” he said, though it sounded like you were under water. His hands reached out towards you and you eyed them suspiciously as he laid them on your arm. You gasped as the sounds all vanished in the blink of an eye, and all you could hear was once again the cars far below and the regular sounds of the city.

You stared at him in astonishment and fear as he gently tugged your arms down from your ears. There was a hint of amusement in his eyes, though he was mostly curious and happy. It was so weird.

It was like your consciousness and his was the same. You didn’t know how or why it was possible, but you knew what he was feeling. You just knew. It was as if you were the one feeling them, though the sensations were somehow carrying his own kind of signature. You couldn’t make a single sense of it.

Your vision blurred with black dots as your hand helplessly reached out to grab a hold of him.

You startled upwards, your breathing heavy, a thin layer of sweat on your forehead as you fumbled against the restraints holding you down. There were muffled voices all around you, yet in your panic you only felt the strong grip on your arms. You whimpered as your eyes refused to adjust to your surroundings, fear seeping into your veins like molten lava, your body aching with adrenaline.

A strong sensation of calmness flowed through you, almost knocking you straight back, and your body reacted to it. It became easier to breathe, as your blurry vision cleared, revealing Jungkook’s face, right before yours. Your eyes flickered from his eyes, down to your hands. He held your wrists together in your lap with one hand, while the other was gently stroking your cheek.

Your bottom lip trembled as you looked up at him again, though you were calmed by his gaze. He didn’t seem the least bit worried. He seemed almost… happy. He was gleaming, as if his body was glowing, though you couldn’t see it if you focused your vision on him.

“There you are,” he muttered, his lips spreading into a wide smile. Your throat felt dry and painful, though you wouldn’t have known what to say anyway. You had no idea what had happened or why were sitting on the bed.

“How… how do you feel?” he asked, almost uncertain, and your mind was thrown into a loop of memories crashing into your mind at once. The other demons, the fire, the fighting, the… the things they said.

“Wha-” you tried, but your voice came out raspy and your eyes shut as you cleared your throat. You looked up at him uneasily again.

“What happened?” You whispered, not failing to notice the way his hands on your skin were inhumanly warm, though it didn’t bother you the slightest.

“You went into a bit of a shock,” he said, slowly moving up from his crouched position in front of you to sit besides you on the bed.

“No, what happened? What did… Why did they say what they said?”

“Y/n…”

“No, you don’t get to do that,” you hissed, feeling your throat slowly loosen up. You stood from the bed and faced him.

“What the hell is going on, Jungkook?”

“It’s complicated.”

“They said you had tied you soul to mine! What the hell does that mean?”

“Just… come here,” he sighed, standing up and walking out of the room. You followed right behind, noticing how clean the living room was, despite the massive fire that had erupted. Jungkook watched you intently as he motioned for you to sit at the dining table. You did so and looked at him as he sat opposite.

“There… There are things we do, that humans don’t,” he started and you decided to keep silent and listen. “We have different… rituals for things.”

You wanted to ask so many questions, and though he was using far too long to answer by your liking, you bit your tongue and hoped he would really tell you all of it. You wanted to know what you had been dragged into – it had to be better than living there without knowing a damned thing.

“Especially when it comes to, well, significant others,” he said slowly, as if trying not to tick you off. Your eyes narrowed slightly, though not because of what he said – because he was beating around the bush and you didn’t like that.

“We have strong powers, I’m sure you know that, but we also have one opportunity in our lifetimes to render ourselves somewhat powerless for one other being,” he explained, and your frown deepened. First of all, what a dumb thing to do; why would you ever render yourself powerless for someone? Second, what if you grew powerless for someone wrong? Who’d use it against you? You stayed silent.

“All that power lies in our names,” he muttered, as if he was telling a massive secret that no living being could ever find out. His name. You wanted to ask him a million questions so badly, but you kept quiet.

“But we don’t get powerless against others outside of it, it’s just… it’s a bond between two souls. Everything’s… shared,” he said, dark eyes staring right into yours.

“Tied together,” you murmured in a soft voice, realizing what he had done. “That’s…”

“That’s why you’re feeling what I’m feeling, yes,” he said quietly, though there didn’t seem to be a sliver of doubt in his heart.

“I don’t- I just… why me? I don’t get it, we barely just met,” you said, and though you were very attracted to him, you had barely even thought about kissing him – not tying your soul to his.

“You may not have felt it right away when you saw me, because you are human, but I knew,” he said, his voice firm, his eyes warm.

“Knew what?” You breathed.

“I don’t think I can explain it, I just knew. I just knew it would be you.”

“Me what?”

“You and me,” he said, a tiny smile tipping at the corner of his lips as his eyes gleamed with happiness. He was happy – you could tell. You felt it. His grin widened as he saw the blush on your face. You didn’t know what to say. His black hair looked amber in the light from the orange rays of the setting sun seeping in through the massive windows, ironically making him look like an angel.

Your throat felt thick. Like you could barely swallow. There were still so many questions in your mind. “I… I don’t understand.”

“That’s alright, it’ll take a bit longer for you,” he smiled warmly, though his eyes shone with both adoration and playfulness, like they had done several times before.

“But you’ll come around, you proved that yesterday,” he nodded to himself, his smile seeping into a smirk. Your eyebrow twitched upwards.

“What did I do?”

“You tried to protect me,” he said, and you could feel his heart swell with pride as he thought about it. You remembered stepping in front of him, trying to get the other demon to back off.

“Well… of course I did,” you muttered.

“No! No,” he said, reaching for your hand across the table, his smile broadening. “No one just does that. No one, let alone a human, just steps between two demons in the middle of a fight,” he grinned. “But you did. And to us, that is one of the most sacred things; the most special thing one can do for another.”

“But… I- you were hurt,” you blabbered, feeling heat burning in your cheeks. Jungkook scoffed, his head tilting.

“He couldn’t hurt me even if he tried,” he said, thumb rubbing over your knuckles. “No, you, even though he could’ve killed you in a second, stepped in front of me.”

“But what about before they came? Why were you so mad at me?” You asked, your brows pushing together in a frustrated frown. His eyes dimmed.

“I wasn’t mad at you, I was… I was frustrated. I knew it would take longer time for the bond to connect for you after I told you my name, but… it’s a very strong feeling once it connects, and it’s not something one wants to feel alone.”

“Oh…” you swallowed. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“Making you feel bad.”

“Did you not hear what I just said?” He said, a soft smile on his lips. “It’s not your fault.”

You were both quiet for a while. You, staring at the table trying to take it all in, and him, silently stroking your thumb. After a while, your head perked up, your eyes crashing with his intense dark gaze.

“Does… does this mean I have powers?” You asked, almost hopeful, but mostly curious. Jungkook laughed, and the sound was heavenly.

“Well… if you call being half demon powers, then sure.”

“Wh- I- Half demon!?”

“Like I said… shared.”

“I’m half demon!?” You spluttered, your eyes wide as saucers.

“Don’t sound so excited,” he grinned, standing from the chair, and moving towards the balcony. You sat at the table, jaw slack, as you stared at him walk outside, out of sight. You sat there for a whole minute, mind rambling in every direction before you stood up and stumbled after him, your head thundering with questions.

“Don’t just… Don’t…” your words fell out of your mouth in whispers as you took in the sight on the balcony before you, your mind going blank. You jaw hung down as a sigh left your lips at the breathtaking sight in front of you, your eyes not able to even blink in fear of missing a second of him.

“Oh my god,” you muttered, grabbing a hold of the screen door. A soft chuckle left Jungkook’s lips at your reaction, amused by your choice of words.

“Not god, just me,” he said, eyes glinting. “Being a demon isn’t so bad.”

In front of you, his back facing the sunset, was Jungkook. His white shirt was on the floor besides his feet, strong upper body on show, but that – though marvelous in itself – wasn’t what had your utter most attention.

Behind him, in all their glory, was a pair of massive midnight black wings, stretching out wide, covering the whole of the horizon before you, before they curled back together against his back. His lips turned up in a smirk again, as he could probably feel exactly what you were feeling. He beckoned you closer by holding out his hand towards you, and you took careful steps towards him, almost afraid he would fly off if you moved too fast.

“You…” you whispered, though you trailed off, not knowing what on earth you could possibly say. There was nothing you could say, there were no words to describe what you were seeing. You could say he was beautiful, but that would be a lousy and unsatisfying way to describe him. He was otherworldly, truly so. There was nothing like him out there, he was unmatched.

The dark feathers behind him were slick and smooth and you had the strongest urge to reach out and touch them, but you could barely keep your feet underneath you in awe. Your eyes flickered from the dark massive wings to his equally dark eyes.

“Come on, I don’t bite,” he urged, taking your hand and pulling you closer as he smirked at you. “Not too hard, at least.”

“I don’t- I-” you shook your head; you had no coherent thought in your whole mind. It was all a blabber.

“You can touch them if you want,” he murmured, wrapping an arm around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. You swallowed uncertainly.

“But you should know… they’re sensitive,” he whispered, his eyes glowing with playful suggestion. His voice sent a pleasant shiver down your back, and you stared up at him.

“They’re… beautiful,” you muttered, embarrassed at your trance-like state, but you’d never seen a demon’s wings in real life before. You had seen a picture once, but they were nothing like Jungkook’s. These ones in front of you could have angels on their knees, you were sure.

He hummed in reply, nose nudging against yours. He seemed to be calm and happy, and you liked this side of him. He was quite the guy when he wasn’t so moody. And you made a mental note to tell him that once, but in that moment, you could do nothing but stare at him in awe. How such a magnificent being could be bound to you, how someone like him could even exist was a mystery to you, but you decided then and there that you wouldn’t oppose of it.

“You’re not scared anymore,” he noted, a proud smile on his lips. You couldn’t help but smile at his giddiness. He was like a whole different person now. You liked it. You liked him.

Licking your bottom lip, you took a chance and pushed up on your tiptoes, pressing your lips to his. Your eyes slid shut, your veins on fire as his own pressed back against yours. His arm tightened around your body and you smiled against his lips, pulling back to look up into his eyes.

“I have to say… you could’ve just asked me out on a date,” you muttered, your smile broadening as he laughed, the sound like magic.

“And miss all this spectacle? Not my style,” he muttered with a grin, hand reaching up to cup your jaw. “It’s our way, but I’ll give you space, if that is what you want,” he said. Your hands reached up to cup both his cheeks, a warm smile on your lips as you stroked his cheekbones with your thumbs.

“I think I… I think I could get used to this.”

333 notes · View notes

nomunamuinmybrain · 3 years

Text

Bitter 6

Finally! It took me so long to get it together and finish this chapter. A lot has happened in my life since I last posted but most importantly I graduated from university. Now that I have all the time in the world I want to give all my attention to writing. I hope you enjoy this chapter and I hope you are all safe and healthy given the situation with the pandemic.

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Summary: Sometimes our thoughts get the best of us. Sometimes depression gets the best of all of us. Too oblivious to realize that we are surrounded with love. This is a story about learning to receive love, learning that you deserve love. A fun group of friends and their lives as they gradually change and grow. Sometimes bitter other times sweet much like chocolate such is life.

FLUFF WITH A SPRINKLE (or so) of smut/Slow pace

words: 1.7k

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Chapter 6

A knot forming in my belly, the sensation stretching to my heated mound forcing my thighs to rub in frustration. My hand slithers from my aching breasts to my slit, I can’t believe how wet I got just thinking about him. Next thing I know, the other side of the bed sinks under his weight as he makes his way over me. I am not sure how he got here but I don’t care. I can feel his scent, heavy and sweet, making me dizzy. His hands take over from mine, teasing and touching me. I want him to taste me everywhere. Devour every inch of my being with his sinful mouth, marking me as his. It’s as if he is in my head, knowing my every thought, every desire. My hands pinned above me held by his hand.

No longer thinking reasons to resist this, I completely surrender to his touch. My back arches wanting even more, he is everywhere, I breathe him in and in my utterly intoxicated state that’s when I hear it, beeping loud in my ears, my alarm clock. I knew this seemed too good to be a fragment of reality. Grunting noises escape me while I roll around trying to mute the source. The boys must have gotten up earlier or maybe they left the room right after I fell asleep, making sure I get some rest since they know how stressed I was about this whole coffee meet cute and that’s when I felt it. A strange flutter in my lower belly, a tingling but it was nothing of anxiety, it was pure excitement. I jump off the bed to get ready and after a much appreciated pep talk from the guys I was already out the door and on my way to the coffee shop. Namjoon was sweet enough to text me good morning and ask for my order beforehand. We lock eyes as I am crossing the street and I am positive his smile is outshining the sun, thankfully I did not faint in the middle of the street. Deep breath.

“Here you go. Iced latte, medium, double shot espresso with soy milk and one pump of caramel.”

“Sorry for making you memorize the whole thing. I’m a bit particular with what I like. Especially coffee.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that. Besides, I’m no better. Iced Americano, blonde roast, extra ice, extra shot with foam.”

“Are we sure the barista didn’t spit in these cause I think I would if I had to make this order.” My silly remark made him laugh and the flutter in my belly grew stronger.

We started walking, heading towards the park. Conversation with him was smooth, effortless, he seemed to be as invested as I was which was refreshing cause for once I felt like I wasn’t blabbering someone to boredom and every time I took my turn to say anything he would look at me. He gingerly brushed his fingers against mine, weaving them with mine, brushing his thumb softly. I guess for the first time I felt interesting to someone other than Hoseok and Tae. There was nothing we didn’t touch on, from family stuff to career and childhood and lost dreams, there wasn’t a topic off the table. When we got to the unavoidable point of discussing relationships and experiences of that kind I tensed up a bit and unfortunately he picked up on that.

“It’s okay if this is too much for you, we don’t have to…”

“No, it’s fine. It’s better to be upfront with things like this.”

“I agree. Took me a while to come to terms with confronting people and situations.”

“Well, I’m in the same boat you know. I don’t have much experience with dating and I’ve never even been in a relationship. My insecurities plus my anxiety and depression haven’t, how should I put this, they didn’t leave any space for that stuff. Working on my relationship with myself and my mental health seemed more important. Also I never wanted to burden anyone with my issues, it wouldn’t be fair. Society has us believing that through another person we can finally feel whole but, well, it’s nothing but a sugar coated pill. Building a strong and healthy relationship with yourself is a blessing on the long run. To the eyes of others it might seem like I’m behind on that stuff but it doesn’t faze me as much anymore.”

“For the record you are not behind on anything, that’s bullshit. You made your wellbeing a priority and that is admirable to say the least. My last relationship has left me with so much trauma it left me frozen, unable to put myself out there to meet someone else. I wouldn’t even have approached you if it wasn’t for my friends pushing me, I feared that I was damaged goods, sort to say.”

I halt my step, turned to look at him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“You’re not. I hope you know that you’re not.”

“I know. Now, I know.” His hand cupped my check and I could feel the redness spread as I leaned into his caress. “I hope you know that too.” he continued.

He leaned in, his breath fanning warmth against me, he looked in my eyes, my lips and then back into my eyes, longingly. His plump lips parted letting out a sigh. “I- I really want to kiss you.”

I drew in a sharp breath and answered in a small voice. “Me too.”

His kiss was deep, intoxicating and somewhat controlled cause let’s face it we we’re in the middle of a park. A satisfying grunt escaped me and he did something that I can only describe as a low growl, it was sexy and I could feel the tingling intensify. With both hands on my face, his thumbs tracing patterns on my cheeks, he withdrew his plush lips to lovingly nudge my nose with his.

“I’m so glad we can be together in this moment. Wait, no, that sounds weird. What I meant, what I’m trying to say…”

I take the lead to put him out of his misery. He looked adorable fumbling for the right words.

“Namjoon relax. I know what you mean. I feel the same way.”

The rest of the walk we joked around and I honestly haven’t let go with another person so soon, he has a way, a warmth that just makes me feel comfortable and most definitely desired and appreciated. Before we parted we set another date for Sunday at the movies and for the first time in forever I felt excited for something. Once we got to my building we kissed one more time and even though I told him to go he waited to see me go up which I wouldn’t have done given the situation I had to witness. The door was open and the apartment was full of people. Squeezing my way in I browse for Hobi and once I spot him in the kitchen I make my way to him and grab him from the arm.

“What’s all this?!”

“We are pregaming before we get to Jungkookie’s party. It’s a last minute situation and I offered to help. You do remember we have Jungkook’s thing today, right?”

“It’s 15:46! And yes, I do remember. Isn’t it a little early for pregaming anyway?”

“Um, not when you have a bunch of art hippies. It’s called a brunch pregame or something like that, who cares. Pancake?” he stuffed it in my mouth before I had a chance to answer. Tae jumped and hugged me from behind, most definitely tipsy, playing with my curls.

“How was coffee with dream man Kim Namjoon?” he asked

“She’ll tell us later when we are not in a sea of strangers.”

“In a word, perfect. I’ll head to my room and get ready.”

In the sanctuary of my room I drop my phone on the desk and head to the shower. A much needed scorching hot shower later and with the date replaying in my head, I sit on my desk to do my makeup. It’s already 19:40 by the time I’m finished and the noise has died down assumingly because everyone has left. I wasn’t all that excited about being among people tonight but I would never skip any of Jungkook and Andy’s parties. I think it’s a new sold out show that we’re celebrating but who cares really it’s just going to end up crazy. Jungkook notoriety for making each meetup an unforgettable event is unbeatable. After last time’s paint war debacle I opted for jeans to be as comfortable as possible.

Half an hour later we’re already parked outside of Jungkook’s house and then Hobi locks us in. Tae was the first one to give him the stank eye and question the sanity of his action.

“What the hell?”

“Tae, I am not gonna make the party if y/n over here doesn’t give us the details of this mornings event. I might actually eat my own hand.”

“Okay, okay, but I’ll fast forward a bit because I don’t want to drag this on. I had a wonderful time with him, he is so sweet and considerate, we talked about everything and anything. Also, we kissed and I cannot wait to go on another date.”

Hobi and Tae couldn’t hide their happiness, so prominent in their expression. They both jumped me to give me the tightest hug possible.

“Baby girl we’re so happy for you.”

“Let’s break this up now and get going Jungkook is waving from the door.”

We get to the door, Jungkook waiting for us, arms open, cigar hanging from his mouth.

“You’re into smoking now?” Tae asked

Much to our surprise he bit down to reveal the molten caramel center. Of course its made of chocolate, he’s a candy nut. We’re all ushered inside, everyone’s scattered here and there in the large common area having conversation over the latest pieces acquired in his personal collection. Among new faces and a few familiar ones I spot a face my memory could never erase, he looks up at the same time, eyes locking with mine and shoots me a wink.

My old crush.

The ever so charming, Kim Seokjin.

#bts #btsfic #bts fanfction #bts college au #bts namjoon #namjoon #namjoon x reader #namjoon x yn #seokjin #bts seokjin #bts hoseok #taehyung #jungkook #thekimlinenet #hyunglinenetwork

15 notes · View notes

muertawrites · 4 years

Text

The Lovers of Ba Sing Se - Part 1 (Zuko x Reader) [Modern Au]

Summary: Zuko isn’t used to being around people who aren’t afraid to share their every emotion. Meeting you during his time in Ba Sing Se changes that, and changes him for the better.

Word Count: 4,000

Author’s Note: Lmao the only person I’m writing this for is myself. Sorry not sorry. I usually try really hard to keep specifics to a minimum in my self-insert works, but this time I didn’t; I wrote about myself because, honestly, this fic is my love letter to me. I relate to Zuko so much and a huge part of the reason I love him is because he reminds me of myself - this fic is about me learning to love myself again after the people I loved and trusted most betrayed me, and saying a gigantic “fuck you” everyone who ever did anything to destroy my self worth. Part 2 is when I finally live out my fantasy of curb stomping Mai - tomorrow, same bat-time, same bat-channel.

Also, shameless plug, but I’m about 100 followers away from 1k, and I have some really fun stuff planned for when we get there so if you like this fic or any of my others, please follow! I love doing this and my goal is to devote as much effort as possible to it as I can, and I truly wouldn’t be able to do it without your support. Thank you so much for all of it. I’m so excited for the future of this blog and everyone who makes it possible ♥

~ Muerta

Of all the things Zuko thought might kill him, falling dishware was the last thing he would have ever considered a possibility.

He was sitting in the alley behind the Jasmine Dragon, making the most of his smoke break, when a ceramic cooking pot rained onto the pavement in front of him, shattering into trillions of pieces. Startled, he jumped back, dropping his cigarette as he craned his neck upwards; he spotted a head of brightly dyed hair staring down at him from the third floor balcony above.

“Oh shit,” you cried.

Within a minute, you burst through the back door of the neighboring building, panting and looking just as terrified as the young man you'd almost killed. Zuko stared at you, mouth slightly agape.

“Oh my god I'm so sorry,” you gushed. “Are you okay?? I didn't see you standing there, oh my god, oh my fucking god please tell me you're okay.”

Zuko was taken aback, unable to do anything for a moment but gaze at you in confusion, almost wonder. People in the Fire Nation were never this publicly expressive, even when barely avoiding manslaughter - he didn't quite know what to do with you, other than mutter that he was alright.

“I'm so, so sorry,” you blurted again. “You're sure you're okay? You don't have any glass on you or anything? Or need to be treated for shock?”

“No, I'm fine,” Zuko flatly replied. He nodded towards the trash bins across the alley. “You do know your building has those, though. You don't need to throw your old stuff off your balcony.”

You blushed, smiling sheepishly.

“It wasn't old,” you confessed. “It was a birthday gift from my best friend. Well… ex-best friend.”

Zuko huffed, pulling another cigarette from the pocket of his jeans and lighting it, looking down at his hands.

“Never had a breakup, huh?” he guessed.

“Oh, I've had plenty,” you told him. “They just don't get any easier.”

Zuko looked up at you, taking a long drag from his smoke. Your eyes were cast into the middle of the alley, settled on the shards of what once had been a reasonably nice piece of cookware. The shock and terror had faded from your expression, falling into one that was pained, anger and despair shadowing your features; you may as well have roundhouse kicked him in the chest, the look on your face mirroring the ache between his ribs. You hadn't revealed anything to him, but he knew instantly that your pain was the same as his.

He slid another cigarette from the box, offering it to you. You shook your head, lowering yourself onto the back stoop of the Jasmine Dragon; he found himself doing the same without thinking.

“I'm sorry about your pot,” he said, clumsily attempting to lighten the atmosphere. “It looked nice.”

You smiled faintly, pulling your knees to your chest and letting your chin rest atop them.

“I don't cook much, so it wasn't a huge loss,” you replied. “It was kind of cathartic, actually. I feel better.”

Zuko chuckled, tapping a bit of ash onto the ground between his feet.

“Good. Maybe feeling better will keep you from accidentally killing someone.”

You laughed, covering your face in embarrassment.

“Have I mentioned I'm sorry about that?” you winced.

“Hey, no sweat,” Zuko assured you. “It's not the first time. I've had people try to kill me on purpose before.”

He stood, stubbing out his half-smoked cigarette and pocketing it. He offered a hand to help you up, which you took, finding comfort in the strength of his palm as it wrapped around your forearm.

“I've gotta get back to work,” he told you. “You don't have any other gifts from your ex-best friend laying around, do you?”

You giggled, shaking your head.

“No,” you promised, “just that one. Thank you. For not threatening to press charges.”

Zuko laughed, realizing he was doing so for the first time in what had probably been years. The light feeling in his chest got even lighter when he noticed he was still holding your arm.

“Will I see you around?” he asked, the words escaping before they were even fully formed in his head.

You nodded, finally letting go of his hand.

“Yeah,” you said. “I'll see you around …?”

“Lee,” he told you. “I'm Lee.”

You smiled.

“Cool. I'll see you around, Lee.”

You saw Lee again a few days later, but not in a way you really wanted to. You were at work, standing outside the bar on the district high street with a coworker, attempting to attract some business during the weeknight lull; Lee spotted you while on his way to the nearby market, seeing you from a block or two away but doing his best to approach you as if he was bumping into you completely by accident.

Of course, this would be perfectly normal and not at all a weird way to run into a new acquaintance, if only the bar you worked in wasn’t catered towards men with a lolita fetish. You were dressed head to toe in pink and white, corseted in a risque bustier and frocked with a poofy, frilly mini skirt that was purposely too short, revealing the bum of your equally as ruffled panties; when you turned around and came face to face with the cute guy from the tea shop next door, you hoped someone would throw a cooking pot on top of you, death seeming like a much better option than attempting to explain yourself to someone who’d already had the privilege of meeting you during an emotional breakdown.

Lee blushed as pink as your costume, smiling coyly.

“We did say we’d see each other around,” he greeted you.

You grinned, relaxing a little.

“You’re not here to have a drink, are you?” you teased him. He laughed, his face turning redder as he reached up to rub the back of his neck.

“No,” he assured you, “I’m actually on my way to get some groceries. Figured I’d say hey.”

“Oh!” you exclaimed, “My break is in about fifteen minutes! If you don’t mind waiting I could go with you? I’ll buy you dinner to make up for almost killing you the other day.”

Lee chuckled, nodding.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t mind that,” he agreed. “... I don’t have to wait inside though, do I?”

“I mean, my boss would like it,” you told him, “but it’s so dead in there I don’t think she’d let you leave if you did.”

“Noted,” Lee replied. “I’ll wait in the coffee shop across the street, then.”

Not long after, you tossed a hoodie and a pair of jeans over your bustier and undies, meeting him outside the cafe he was stationed at and making your way to the market. You bustled alongside each other in a fray of other people, rubbing shoulders or hips as you were jostled along with the current.

“So,” Lee blurted, attempting to break the silence between you (although it wasn’t nearly as awkward as it probably should have been), “how’d you end up working in a fetish bar?”

Your simpered, cheeks going ever so slightly rosy.

“How do you think?” you jabbed sarcastically. “I needed money and they pay really well. It’s nice knowing I’ll be able to afford rent every month. What about you? How’d you end up at the tea shop?”

“My uncle owns it,” Lee explained. “We’re the only family we have left, so… we stick together.”

You nodded, understanding and not pushing the question any further.

“It’s not so bad,” he went on. “At least I don’t have to wear pigtails to work.”

You huffed with laughter, leaning over so that your shoulder purposely, playfully shoved his.

“Honestly, my job isn’t awful,” you admitted. “My coworkers are cool, and my boss is really kind. It’s also pretty fun getting to dress up in costume every day; it's like Halloween, except I get to do it whenever I want to.”

Suddenly, you paused, gasping.

“Look!”

You grabbed hold of his arm, startling him a bit but too excited to care. You pointed towards a nearby stand, in which an elderly man was frying pieces of dough. He twisted each in an elaborate knot, every order getting a different design. They were like miniature sculptures, too ornate to even think about eating, but the smell of rich spices and molten sugar was too tempting to ignore.

“I love this stand!” you cried. “He isn't always here, but I get something every time he is. Come on, I'll get us some to split!”

With your hand still curled around his elbow, you dragged Lee through the market throng. As he watched you order, making friendly conversation with the old man, he found himself feeling perplexed; he'd never met someone so comfortable with their emotions, so willing to let every part of them be seen. He wondered how you got so fearless, or if you even had to put effort into being so candid.

He found himself thinking about Mai, how cold and empty she was. He was reminded of the chill he felt around her, the bitter sting she often left in his chest, even during tender moments. Being around you was different; even having just met you, you made him feel invigorated but at ease, the tension in his muscles loosening naturally just from the energy of your presence. It was strange, but refreshing - he found himself grinning along with you as you left the stand, finding a place to sit and enjoy your pastry.

“I got us one with curry, and one with cream filling,” you told him, ripping each serving in half to share. “This guy is an artist, I swear. You're not going to be the same person after this.”

You looked up as you took a bite of the savory half of your meal, halting when you noticed the strange look Lee was giving you.

“What?” you asked him.

He shrugged, fixing his eyes on the pastry in his hand.

“You're just different,” he answered. “Where I'm from, people aren't open like you are. You're really… yourself. It's nice.”

You smiled, unable to help but blush. Bubbles fizzed in your chest, making you feel lightheaded and giddy.

“I think it's because so many people told me not to be when I was a kid,” you mused. “They tried to make me hide the parts of myself I really liked, so I made them show even more, just to show them that they couldn't change me. That I was stronger than their cruelty.”

Zuko felt as if he'd been hit by lightning. He didn't know what it was, but something about you terrified him - it was the same thing that made him want to latch onto you and not let go. Despite having met you just days ago, he already felt as if he'd known you a lifetime - unbeknownst to him, you felt exactly the same way.

“Do you want to hang out tomorrow night?” he asked, stuttering the words.

“Yeah,” you replied, so excited you felt like shrieking so the whole market could hear. “I have the day off tomorrow. Think your uncle would let you swing that?”

“Yeah,” Lee assured you. “I think he would.”

You finished your meal together, sharing your favorite things about the neighborhood you lived in and simply enjoying each other’s company, as comfortable as if you were old friends. Instead of parting with you, Lee walked you back to the bar at the end of your break, stating that it was no trouble going back to the market to get the groceries he skipped to spend time with you.

When he left, you hugged him, and for the first time in a long time, you felt as if you'd truly made a friend.

On your date the next day, Lee took you to the local art museum - he remembered you expressing an interest in art history, and per his uncle’s suggestion, decided it would be the perfect place to take you. He loved seeing the awe on your face when met with a piece that captivated you, was drawn in by the impassioned way you spoke about cultures and myths from ages so long passed they felt as if they came from different worlds entirely. You spent the whole day together, ending the evening crashed on your couch with a pizza and a marathon of true crime documentaries.

From that day onward, you and Lee were connected at the hip. You spent every available moment you had either in the alley behind your building with him or having a cup of tea at the Jasmine Dragon, often staying long after closing with him and his uncle, Mushi, and feeling as if you'd finally found a family in your adopted city.

You learned that Lee was a skilled martial artist, asking him to teach you a little of what he knew and amazed at just how good he really was. He moved more like a dancer than a fighter, his comfort and ability with his body and a weapon captivating you. You learned that he also had an affinity for theater and had grown up completely cut off from modern music and pop culture, spending many of your nights together at local play houses and bars, introducing him to your favorite bands and shows. He learned that you were fascinated by literature and history - anything that had significant, profound meaning and beauty - and often found himself wandering museums and historic neighborhoods with you, loving nothing more than to listen to you talk about what inspired you. You also made him laugh, your sense of humor at times dark, but set into a personality that saw the world with childlike wonder, able to find immense beauty and value in things that seemed frivolous to the naked eye. You were kind, unwavering - everything his family and past lover weren't.

Zuko loved being around you because of how free you made him feel. The unbridled way you expressed your emotions encouraged him to face his own, following your lead in being unafraid of just how intensely the heart within his chest was prone to beat. You loved being with him because he made you feel safe, never judging you for anything and understanding the trauma of your past in a way nobody else had done before. You opened up to him about how the ones you loved did you the most harm, never giving themselves as fully to you as you did them, treating you as a means to take out their own pain and insecurities and convincing you that that was just the way love worked. Eventually, he confided in you the truth about his identity, confessing the horrors he fled in coming to Ba Sing Se. You never once blamed him for anything he'd done, knowing exactly what it felt like to have to read between the lines and give everything for those who gave you little in return. You fit together easily, never having to guess what the other was thinking; for once you both felt content, secure in the safety of your heart within the other’s hands.

One of your favorite places to go with Zuko was a cat cafe a few blocks over from where you worked, spending many a slow weekday off shift with fresh lattes, croissants, and cuddles from friendly, adoptable kitties. At first, Zuko was unsure, having never spent much time with cats, but after one visit he was enamored, gushing to you every single time you went how badly he wanted a cat and spouting multiple reasons why you should adopt one together. On a free Wednesday afternoon he showed up at your apartment unannounced (as he had made a habit of doing) and suggested you go together, an invitation you were more than happy to accept.

As you left the cafe, a couple walking on the other side of the street caught your eye - the man who stood nearest to you was horrifyingly familiar. You recognized him immediately, the shock of his sudden appearance shattering and hollowing out your insides.

It was your ex boyfriend, the man who broke your heart so far beyond repair, walking hand in hand with someone else.

“Zuko,” you mumbled, not even noticing that you used his real name in public, “I want to go home.”

Zuko furrowed his brow, taking you by the shoulders and gently turning you to face him, concerned with the sudden shift in your tone.

“What's wrong?” he asked softly.

All you could do was shake your head. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder, leading you to the nearby subway station and back to your apartment.

Once safe inside the confines of your home, you changed into a baggy sweater and the softest sweatpants you owned, curling up under the kotatsu in your living room with Zuko, arms wrapped tight around his waist as you drifted in the tide of blood that poured from your newly reopened wounds. He didn't have to ask what you'd seen - he could tell from the vacant, glassy look in your eyes exactly which ghost haunted you.

“I can't believe he'd be with someone else,” you whimpered. “After everything he did to me… always giving me mixed signals and never telling me exactly how he felt… how could he be able to do it with another person? What was so wrong about me that he hid all of it from me, when all I needed was to hear it?”

You sniffed as Zuko pressed a thumb to your cheek, wiping away a tear that had fallen. He hugged you tightly, pressing you close as if to remind you that he was there - he was your present, and there was nothing your past could do to harm you.

“There's nothing wrong with you,” he promised. “He's taken enough from you. Don't give him any more.”

For a long while, you sat together in silence, cradled in Zuko’s arms while he rocked you slowly back and forth, the tenderness of his touch sucking the poison from your veins. After what felt like ages, he finally spoke, giving you the piece of his past he'd been too heartbroken to offer until that moment.

“My girlfriend, Mai,” he told you, “she was like him. Everything she felt, she forced herself not to. We were together for a long time, but… I never really felt like she actually cared for me. If she did, she never let me see it. I gave her everything for nothing.”

“Why did you stay with her?” you wondered, voice meek and quivering with tears.

Zuko sighed, letting his chin fall so he could bury his face in your hair.

“Because she was the first person who ever accepted what I offered her,” he explained. “I was so used to everything I did being unwanted, it was just nice to not be pushed away for once. But she didn't love me like I needed it. I wish I was strong enough to see that and walk away, like you did.”

You propped yourself upright, leveling yourself so you could look him in the eye. You rested your hands at either side of his neck, your thumbs grazing delicately over his hot skin as you hooked your legs around his hips, your body nestled in the gap between his crossed legs.

“Zuko,” you breathed, “I love you. Those aren't even the right words to tell you how I feel about you, but it's the closest I have. You're so passionate and kind, and you love so fiercely… I truly don't know how to tell you how beautiful I think you are, or how much you mean to me. You deserve so much more than how the people you loved have treated you.”

Zuko curled his arms around your back, pressing his chest to yours and burying his face in the crook of your neck, embracing you as closely as he'd ever done. Tears soaked the collar of your sweater, and in return you cried into the exposed skin revealed by his t-shirt as you tugged on the fabric, gripping him as if letting go meant losing him forever.

“I love you, too,” Zuko murmured. “You make me feel strong enough to show it.”

When Zuko left Ba Sing Se, it crushed you. You were furious, at first unable to understand why he'd throw everything away to return to the place and the people that destroyed so much of him. Most of all, you missed him like mad - you missed how easy it was being with him, how you understood each other as if you were another part of yourselves. You missed his laughter and his warmth, the side of your mattress he often slept in feeling colder than ever without him there.

You were relieved when Mushi - who you now knew to be the infamously disgraced General Iroh - returned, showing up at your door out of the blue with tea and baked goods from the shop. You hugged him tightly, crying like a child as he settled you at your table and told you about his escape from prison, as well as his conversations with Zuko the few times he'd visited him. Your heart ached, but it finally felt clear just how lost and confused he was; you were still angry, but you knew you could forgive him.

“His heart is lost,” Iroh explained, “but because of you, he knows how to listen to it.”

For the next month and a half, you took Zuko’s place at the Jasmine Dragon, spending your days off helping Iroh wherever he needed you. He became as much a part of you as his nephew did, and started to consider you as much a daughter as he did Zuko a son. Iroh’s presence soothed the burns left on your soul not only by those you loved, but by your own ferocity towards them.

Everything changed again the morning you woke to and find that Zuko had left the Fire Nation a third time, his face plastered across the news as a missing person with a bounty on his head. You knew based on everything Iroh told you what he planned to do, and immediately set to packing your bags. Travel into and out of the Fire Nation was difficult, but a few of your coworkers had connections to smugglers in the seedier parts of the district - they’d be able to get you onto a ship or a plane that could get you where you needed to go.

Before you left, you went to the Jasmine Dragon and told Iroh of your plans, asking him to keep watch over your apartment so that you could return if need be. You expected him to try and stop you - instead he pulled you into a strong, affectionate hug, telling you to be careful and call him whenever you were able.

“Go to him,” he hummed into your ear. “He needs you.”

Later that night, you met a group of other refugees at the docks, piling into the hull of a cargo ship bound for the Fire Nation’s imperial city. For the entirety of the journey, you wore one of Zuko’s necklace’s around your neck - one of the few things he’d kept from his life before his banishment and subsequent disappearance - keeping it tucked under your shirt and pressed to your chest for good luck.

[ Part 2 ]

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angelrider13 · 4 years

Note

People finding how ‘just’ how powerful thalassa is. Or how powerful they THINK she is anyway, in her new dimension

Here’s the thing. Thalassa is human. Leviathan is not. When she gets shoved into completely human body, that causes some issues. Thalassa fits inside HaiRong. Leviathan...does not. If she leans to far into Leviathan’s might, she’ll burn herself out, burn herself up.

She’s been sentenced to a human lifetime in this strange world and afterwards, her Mothers will reclaim her and guide her home to her siblings and her children. In the meantime, she is simply HaiRong, the strange almost-not-quite-human that frequents Lotus Pier. She’d probably have avoided all notice if it weren’t for the fact that she took one look at the Jiang Sect and said dibs. As it stands, no one really knows how powerful she is. Not really. There are hints of course, but not much proof. HaiRong has no golden core and no motive to cultivate one - not that most people realize this because the cultivation world has to explain her weird abilities somehow.

That being said, some of the Jiang Sect, including Jiang Cheng, get front row seats to the fact that HaiRong is anything other than a normal human.

(When Jiang Cheng meets her, she’s in the middle of pulling her hand out a man’s chest. Her clothes are a mess - torn and bloodied and hanging off her. There are lines of fire climbing up her arms, cracking along face, around her eyes, down her cheeks, through her lips. Her skin flaking to ash as the power trapped within burns it black. A faint hissing sound fills the air - the sound water makes when it hits hot metal - as steam rises from her body.

HaiRong, Thalassa, Leviathan looks at Jiang Cheng with bright, burning, molten eyes of gold, fire burning her from the inside out, covered in crimson and asks:

“Are you friend or foe?”

There is something old in her voice, something ancient and endless. It presses down on him, heavy. Expectant. He gulps, knuckles turning white around his sword’s hilt. This is not a demonic cultivator. This isn’t even a cultivator. Jiang Cheng is willing to bet everything he is that this isn’t even human. (He’s right. And he isn’t.) He knows, knows, that the men at her feet are - were - demonic cultivators. He can feel the resentment in the air. He’s seen the arrays drawn in blood, the fierce corpses. She’s done nothing more than what he had been planing to do himself. But.

“Neither,” he says, carefully pointing his blade down and away, though he does not sheath it.

Her blackened lips pull into a smile, the movement making them crack further as fire crawls down her chin. “A fair answer. For now.”

She turns from him and walks further into the room. He trails after her, keeping a wary eye on her. There’s a table in the center of the room. A slab of stone really. Another array drawn on top. There is a baby in the center of it, still and quiet. His stomach sinks as the woman sighs softly and places a hand on the small chest. She closes her eyes, expression mournful, head bowed over the body. Then, she straightens, and - to Jiang Cheng’s shock and horror - starts striping.

Propriety demands he looks away, but he doesn’t know what she is, doesn’t know how much a threat she can be. So he turns enough that she’s in his peripheral and pointedly doesn’t watch as she takes off her under robe before putting her top layer back on.

The cloth in her hands is significantly cleaner. She uses it to wrap the baby, carefully swaddling the small body and lifting it into her arms. She presses a kiss - delicate, soft, lingering - to the baby’s forehead.

“Sleep well, little one,” she murmurs against his skin.

And then she turns to Jiang Cheng again, the body of a baby cradled in her arms, the corpses of his killers surrounding them, and asks with the fire inside her burning so brightly, he can see it on her tongue:

“Are you friend? Or foe?”)

#a sea of lotus flowers verse #sweat tears or the sea au #ffxv x mdzs #ask #anon #elri answers #jc meets leviathan and has no idea what he's walked into #not gonna lie #this ask had me thinking of all sorts of scenarios of thalassa absolutely wrecking mdzs world's shit #but like #in a super casual way #which makes it immensely more terrifying #because what would it look like if she actually tried???#meanwhile the jiang sect walks out of a cult with a bunch of kids and a maybe demon??#they're not really sure #but the kids like her #and she doesn't seem inclined towards violence since they helped her out #so

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akitokihojo · 4 years

Text

Delicate - Chapter 2

"It's not that bad!" Sango assured, trying to pry the paper away from Kagome's face. Her best friend stared at it, the look of anguish plastered on her expression, and her fingers gripping the exam tight enough to crinkle the edges. "Let it go, Kay!"

"It's bad. It's so bad."

"No, it's not."

"This is the first test of the term!"

"But you didn't fail. Give it to me."

"How did I get that question wrong?" Kagome pressed, shoving her face a little closer to the exam paper as if it would make more sense an inch away.

"Ah, okay! I'm going!" The tone was defensive and forced, serving as enough incentive to gather Kagome's attention. Inuyasha pushed a guy their way down the corridor, continuing to give little shoves at his back each time he slowed down.

"Oh no." Sango grumbled, her lips curving in distaste as she gave a small duck of her head.

The two stopped just a few feet before them, Inuyasha holding his hand out in gesture to Kagome as he glared at his friend. The guy's cheeks were pink, and his dark blue eyes shifted between she and Sango uneasily, his shoulders stiff and raised.

“Get it over with, Miroku.” Inuyasha pressed, his tone stern, almost disciplinary.

"When did we swap roles? I'm usually the one making you -"

“Just say it."

"Sorry." He sighed feebly, eyes drooping shamefully. "For, uh, spilling my drink all over you."

"It's okay." Kagome said, trying not to laugh. "Wasn't a big deal."

"You didn't get in trouble with your parents or anything, did you?"

"I threw the dress away, actually. Didn't want to chance it."

"Awe man, you threw it away!?" Miroku groaned, dropping his head back. “I’m so sorry! I’ll replace it!”

"It's really not a big deal. The thing was old, anyway." She insisted, finally giving into her laugh. It was hard not to notice how is indigo eyes fluttered to and from Sango, and though she was curious how her best friend was fairing from the attention, Kagome didn't want to make it obvious by looking over. Instead, she flashed a humorous glance at Inuyasha, who stood there with little-to-no expression, arms crossed in what she would deem as typical Inuyasha fashion.

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

"So, uh, what are you guys looking at?" Miroku cleared his throat, all former remorse gradually fading while he stepped to Kagome's free side to observe the paper in her hands. The damage was done before she could conceal it, his eyes growing large and brows raising high in total shock. "Woah, you got a 'D'? Yikes."

"Please, say it louder for the rest of the school to hear." Sango remarked sarcastically, a light scowl forming when she noticed Kagome try to hide her humiliated pout.

"Oh, sorry." He grimaced. "Was this your guys' first test of the year?"

"Miroku." Inuyasha, himself, seemed a little shocked at his friends lack of tact, golden eyes staring on in bewilderment as he tried to ignore the sinking expression on Kagome's face.

"No, no, this isn't bad at all!" Miroku said confidently, shaking his head incessantly. "First test is just the practice run! You can totally recover!"

Sango gave a reaffirming nudge against Kagome's shoulder, hoping she'd absorb the same amount of self-assurance that Inuyasha's friend currently harbored.

"Oh, I've got an idea! I've got a super idea! When you get a bad grade, what do you do?" He waited for an answer, eyes bouncing from one person to the next. They all looked unsure, distrusting even, and he knew it was all for good reason. Miroku was quickly losing all control over his better judgement, his nerves becoming jittery, his brain going completely haywire, and there was hardly any way to get ahold of himself now. He felt intoxicated, and knew he should stop while he was still ahead, but it was like whatever was left of his filter just flew out of the nearby window. The silence was tense, and his cheeks were hurting from the forced smile he maintained. When he realized he wasn't going to get an actual response from any of them, though, he unwittingly trudged forward. "You study. And you know who's not dumb?"

Kagome steadily folded up her test, over-creasing the lines with determined fingers. Was she being roasted by this guy? Was he legitimately calling her dumb, or was he just completely thoughtless? Her expression deadpanned, from her peripherals she saw Inuyasha drop his head to the side, and she could physically feel Sango's done energy. Miroku looked anxious, tense, but the smile kept on his face, even as he clearly realized his mistake.

"Not you." He said stiffly, as if to recover. "Because you didn't fail. I don't see an 'F' on that paper. Nope, I see a 'D,' and what does 'D' stand for?" More discomfort. More clenched sighs. “Definitely not an ‘F’! Wow, that was intense. Anyway, know what guy's worst grade ever was probably a 'B'?"

"Please stop." Inuyasha groaned, almost pleading.

"This guy right here." Miroku gestured to his friend with a point of his thumb, whose amber eyes were squinting, chagrined. "You should ask him to tutor - what? No? Should I leave?"

"You really should." The half demon nodded.

"You know, I sensed that, because I feel like I'm holding a shovel and digging a very deep grave for myself. You - you look very mad at me." He mentioned to Sango, his smile finally disappearing. "It's, uh, it's pretty terrifying. Wow. You could probably break me in half. I'm gonna - yeah, I'm gonna go."

Kagome watched the boy stumble away in amazement, walking as if the soul had up and left his body and the words he'd just sputtered out were barely processing. When enough distance was put between them, she twisted back to Inuyasha.

"He's naturally like that!?" She asked, in reference to the hanyou’s claim while they were hiding from the rain.

"No." He gently shook his head, still shaken by the experience. "It's never been that bad before."

"That was..." Kagome trailed off, trying to find the proper word for what had just occurred. "Surreal."

"Alright, let's just move passed it." Sango waved her hand, as if dismissing the entire ordeal, shifting her entire attitude to act like it had never happened at all. "So, you're smart?"

"Well, I've never been tested or anything, but I stay afloat." He shrugged.

"Good enough for me. Pressure from your weird friend aside, how would you feel about helping Kagome out?"

"Sango!"

"I mean, I would do it, but I'm a C-average girl, myself. I kind of think she needs a bit of an aggressive push, if you catch my drift. Like, really drill it into her head."

Kagome shoved her elbow into her best friend's side, swiftly shutting her up before giving Inuyasha an apologetic look. "You really don't have to do anything. I'll be totally fine. In fact, if you could completely forget about the grade I got, that'd be great."

"So, you got a 'D.' Big deal." His shrug was more careless this time. Though his expression wasn't necessarily one of compassion, nor one she suspected was intended to make her feel any better, it was the lack thereof that ironically seemed to settle her nerves. "It's not gonna set you back so long as you pick up from there. Let me see it."

With minor hesitation, Kagome passed her folded up exam into Inuyasha's awaiting hand, watching him unfold it and take in the mistakes. His brow didn't crinkle and his lips didn't twitch to laugh at her. His face was straight, golden eyes sweeping over the test nonchalantly.

"These are all little mistakes. If it was really bad, you would have failed. I mean, you still suck, but it's not horrible." He said, refolding the paper and giving it back.

"Gee, thanks." She snagged it, folding it a few extra times for good measure.

"But, we don't want you to become a lost cause or anything, so I guess I can help."

"Don't do me any favors because you feel obligated."

"I'm not. I'm doing you a favor because you looked about ready to cry earlier, and it was pretty pathetic."

"You know, you really have a way with words." Kagome remarked, cocking her head to the side. Inuyasha gave a small upturn of his lips, the hint of smugness rolling from it, giving a small wag of his fingers in gesture for her hand. Confused, she apprehensively put it out for him, surprised when he grabbed her fingers to turn it so her palm would face him. He pulled a pen out of his pocket, clicking the ballpoint out before connecting it with her skin. His hand was hot against the back of hers; large in comparison. He had a firm hold, but never hurt her, not even when he tightened his grip as she gave a tiny twitch because the pen had tickled the middle of her palm. Molten eyes flickered up to her, and an unnatural heat spread over her cheeks, one she hoped wasn't as evident as it felt. With another click, Inuyasha's pen was shoved back into his pants pocket, his fingers releasing her hand so she could see what he'd written.

"I'm sure you can figure out what to do with that." The half demon stated, shoving both hands in his pockets as he sauntered around them in the direction his friend had gone.

"How much longer do I have to keep my cool for?" Sango asked, her voice barely over a whisper as they both watched Inuyasha disappear behind the corner. She noted the redness of Kagome's cheeks, the way she kept her hand open so the ink wouldn't smudge or rub away, and then the way her expression easily shifted into a dirty look.

"You're on a friendship timeout." Kagome brushed passed her, heading back inside their classroom and toward her desk to fish her phone out of her bag.

"What!? I totally did you a favor!" Sango whined, following close behind.

"You did not!"

"Yes, I did! You got his number out of this!" She made sure to hush her tone, crouching next to her best friend's desk so no one else would hear their conversation.

"First of all, it's strictly business. Second, you put us both on the spot. Timeout."

"Strictly," Sango scoffed. "No one said you had to exchange phone numbers to study. He could have always said to meet him in the library after school. You - are - welcome."

Kagome pursed her lips, cocking a brow expectantly, waiting for her friend to catch the hint.

"Fine. How long?" She huffed, dropping her butt into the seat in front of Kagome's.

"Three minutes."

Unlocking her phone and appreciating the momentary lack of harassment, Kagome input Inuyasha's phone number as a new contact, her teeth softly raking against her bottom lip as she hit save. If it was strictly business, why was she excited to have received his number? On top of that, she was nervous and she swore she could feel her heart thumping behind her ribcage. She pinched her lips together, but there was no fighting the smile that began to grow on her face. The guy was intriguing to her; hot and cold, seemingly sheathing a soft side, caring while possibly covering it with brash words - all of which yet to be one-hundred percent determined. But, that was what Kagome really wanted to take the time to discover.

As she looked up from her screen, she noticed Sango grinning at her, shrugging her brows knowingly.

"Shut up." Kagome murmured.

Hastily, she typed in her message, hitting send before she could talk herself into waiting a while per teenage social conduct regulations.

Here's my number, too.

It wasn't until after school that she felt her phone buzz with anything, her eyes doing their usual, nonchalant sweep of the courtyard as she and Sango made their way out before drifting down to the screen she held.

Who's this?

She had to physically hold back her huff of vexation, not wanting to attract her best friend's attention to glance over her shoulder. Was this also typical Inuyasha fashion, or did he honestly not know? A subtle, paranoid part of her almost feared he'd given her a random number. But, he wouldn't do that. Would he? Or did he just give his number out to multiple girls and, depending on how quickly they chose to get back to him, it was hard to keep track of who was who? Oh god, did she even stand a chance? He was handsome as all hell, so who was she kidding? The guy probably had a leather jacket with HEARTBREAKER stitched on the back.

Strictly business. Studying. Not even a study date. Just pure, innocent, harmless studying. If she forced herself to keep up that mentality, there was no way she'd be bothered by any external forces threatening to send her overthinking abilities into hyperdrive. Who cares if she had a teeny, tiny crush on him? It was irrelevant to the cause; the cause being her grades. If she had to, she'd convince herself - someway, somehow - that she wasn't even attracted to him to begin with. She would travel far to meet a Jedi Master so that they could perform that mind trick hocus-pocus on her to make her believe that the person she would be working with wasn't anything special in the least.

Jerk.

Oh, Kagome. Got it.

Neither the quick response, nor the fact that he was probably playing with her made her smile at all. Not at all.

"I'm gonna do it." Miroku pumped himself up, bouncing on his feet.

"I wouldn't." Inuyasha said, his tone dull, eyes glued to his phone as he leaned against the tree.

"I'm gonna do it!" He repeated more persistently.

"I'm not saving you."

"I'm doing it!" His determination was admirable, even for him, fingers tingling with adrenaline, the flurry in his abdomen going into a wild frenzy as he power-walked his way toward the two unsuspecting girls across the street. Steady exhales left his lips, like an athlete exercising their breathing, totally prepared to work his magic like another ordinary day with the female specimen until the woman he particularly favored looked his way.

Miroku's mind blanked, his chest hitching painfully as his legs seemed to wobble pitifully, barely bringing him to his destination in front of the girls. She stared, blankly at first, her hand gently grabbing her companion's elbow to stop her trek, her attention, once fully devoted to her phone, flickering up to her friend then over to him. Their expressions mirrored one another's; mouths straight, eyes curious, brows cautious.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

"Sango." He managed to say. It sounded almost confident, only a small waver noticeable.

The girl stiffened slightly, clearly waiting for him to continue. His mouth had shut, though. His smile fit uncomfortably on his face; small, strained, like a child obligated to sit there and hold a posed grin for four minutes straight until the photographer finally got their school picture taken.

"What?" She asked, tensely.

If anyone had a portal into his mind, they'd see a tumbleweed passing through a desolate field of crusted land. "That's - that's all." Miroku said, trying to play it off though he was sure his mortification shined bright. Turning away, he sauntered back in the direction he'd come from.

Both Kagome and Sango watched him waddle across the street. Kagome, specifically, had to clench her throat shut to resist the fit of laughter that threatened to burst free, bringing a hand to cover the crinkled grin growing on her face. She didn't want to embarrass the poor guy more than he'd already done, himself, and she had a feeling Sango wouldn't appreciate it just yet. Not while they were still in the vicinity of the guy.

Inuyasha held a steady expression of total bewilderment having heard the whole thing, sparing a small glance the girls' way just as they started walking again, briefly locking eyes with Kagome, whose amusement never faltered, and then shot his gaze right back to what was left of the pride of his friend. "Dude..."

"What's wrong with me, Inuyasha? I've never done that in front of a girl, not even during my prepubescent days!" Miroku was shaken, blue eyes staring through the bark of the tree in total defeat.

"I told you not to."

"You don't understand, I can't function properly around her. I thought it was a temporary side effect of, I don't know, oxygen or something, but no! It's her! What sort of witchcraft has she conducted upon me!?"

"I don't know, but it's getting embarrassing to be associated with you."

"It's getting embarrassing to be me! I'm not like this! I'm not like you! I'm good with girls! I'm smooth as silk! Fine like wine!"

Inuyasha's grimace deepened.

"Once upon a time, I could sweep a girl off her feet with just a wink! Where has that side of me gone!? I mean, just two weeks ago I was fine! Enter Sango, Sango, and I'm pining like a little bitch boy!" Miroku's eyes were wide, riddled with absolute turmoil, fingers sweeping into his hair. "I'm - I'm like Hojo. Hojo. Good god, I'm a Hojo."

"And, on that note..." Inuyasha dropped his phone into his pocket, peeling himself off the tree to walk away and head home.

"Wait, you're just gonna leave?" Miroku asked, following. "In my time of desperate need?"

"What you need is to get a grip."

"Tell me how! What's a guy like me gotta do to get a girl like her?"

"Cutting off the rattail would be step number one."

Miroku gasped, horrified, clutching onto the tiny bundle of hair at the nape of his neck protectively. "Never! I will have you know that one day it's going to be as thick, long, and luscious as your own ponytail."

"Dude, it's like a fucking mustache. Just because you can grow facial hair, doesn't mean you should. It doesn't work for everybody." Inuyasha firmly stated.

"But -"

"Trust me, Miroku. You look like a classic nineties douche."

"Has anyone ever told you, you have a way with words?" He smiled crookedly, not offended by his friend's criticism in the least. Over the last year and a half or so, he'd learned the ins and outs of what the bastard truly meant to say. A good amount of his insults were heartfelt and intentional, but if you listened closely, you could hear the chime of his good-natured advice and shadowed compliments.

"Yes, actually." Inuyasha bobbed his head back and forth, as if proud of himself. "Kagome said the same thing earlier today."

"Oh-ho-hoooo, let's talk about that!" Miroku beamed, turning to walk backward just a few paces ahead of the hanyou so that he could focus on the expressions that were sure to wash over his face. It was one of the best ways to read the guy.

"What?"

"Did you think we were just gonna blow over this without revisiting? How you made me apologize to someone? How you made me apologize to someone? That someone being a girl. You made me apologize to a girl! What's the deal, dog boy?"

"Oh god, don't start!" Inuyasha groaned, rolling his eyes. "The one time I'm not at a party with you, and you fucking dump your drink on someone. It has nothing to do with her, and everything to do with you making an ass out of yourself."

"Not once have you ever -"

"Call me out already so I can deny the accusation." He rolled his wrist to gesture for his friend to pick up the pace.

"You like her!"

"No."

"You totally do!"

"No."

"You looked to the side when you said that." Miroku pointed, the cocky grin on his face growing.

"Stop staring at me, you creep. I hate it when you do that shit." The half demon frowned.

"What?" He shrugged. "She's pretty, she's sweet, and she's short - which is right up your alley since I know you love short girls. What are you, five-ten? Eleven?"

"Six."

"An even six. And I'd peg her at five-two, five-three."

"Who cares? She's got an attitude that could give even me a run for my money. No thanks." Inuyasha's tone was level, controlled. Very controlled.

"Sassy. She can handle her own. That's not such a bad quality if you think about it. No one likes a pushover."

"Knock it off." The hanyou ground. "There's nothing special about her."

"Oh man, you're just hand-feeding me material to go on and on about -" Miroku's hands rose defensively as his friend shot him a glare of warning. "- but I won't! Can I just say one last thing? There's nothing wrong with liking someone. It doesn't make you as vulnerable as you may think. I'm not trying to go all Doctor Phil on you or anything; I just think it'd be a good idea for you to let someone in. And, I know you're probably gonna say it isn't like that, but it can be if you just let it. Kagome seems pretty receptive to you."

"She's receptive to everyone. She's social."

"Not that social. I remember Koga tried to walk her home from a kickback last year and she did everything in her power to avoid it without having to slaughter his pride.”

"Don't blame her. The wolf's disgusting. She should have wrecked him, truthfully.”

"Oh, and just in case you didn't know, I'm not blind. I saw that little interaction you two had last week after school. The one where she was, 'being annoying.'" Miroku said, drawing air quotes with his fingers. "Except you were laughing, and she was flirting. It took me, your best friend, months to make you laugh for the first time!"

"Wear a skirt." Inuyasha joked, giving a one-shouldered shrug.

"Nice defense." Miroku smiled with smug implication.

"Don't you live that way?" The half demon asked, the hint of finality in his tone, pointing down the crossroad.

"Oh, look at that! Time to go!" He laughed, crossing the street, continuing in his backward motion as he had been. In all honesty, Inuyasha found him to be the luckiest bastard alive that not a single car was coming considering he hadn't even checked first. "I'm just saying, man, would it be so bad if she did like you?"

Without control, Inuyasha's lips curved into a soft smile. The thought of Kagome's small hand in his causing a swirl of warm delight to knock his normal defenses off-kilter. And, he knew his friend was going to cling to that for as long as he could. With a tense sigh, he rolled his eyes in smooth recovery and headed down his own route home, not wanting to give Miroku any more material to hold over his head. The guy wasn't much of a gloater, but Inuyasha never much liked his business out there for anyone to know in the first place.

His phone had vibrated a little ways back, but considering his friend's wild tangent, he never had a clear opportunity to pull it out and check the text. He had old messages from his uncle and another friend that had been sitting untouched for hours now. Still feeling no sense of urgency to even read them, his thumb fell on the recent text from Kagome.

So, what's the plan, oh wise one?

His fingers worked on their own, typing out the reply and hitting send.

Sunday around noon?

The screen hadn't even dimmed before the little, gray typing bubble popped up.

I'm free. Where?

Your place cool?

My place is cool. See you then!

Are you not coming to school for the rest of the week?

What? Of course, I am.

Then, I guess I'll see you tomorrow. Dummy.

Kagome felt a heat rush to her cheeks. What was worse was she couldn't even tell if she was embarrassed for the rookie mistake she'd just pulled, or if she suddenly found being called a dummy endearing. Was this the tragic path she was destined to go down now? One with half parts constant humiliation for stupid things she may accidentally say, and half parts smitten with little names that weren't quite insults but weren't quite sweet nothings either? Setting her phone to sit flat on her desk, Kagome huffed out slowly, allowing her book bag to sag to the floor while she settled into her seat as she’d just gotten home. Propping her temple up with her fist, she typed a mindless response with a single finger on her free hand.

Yeah, that too.

—

Inuyasha stood before the door, honing in on what he could hear on the other side of it while waiting to be let in. Stumbling feet bounded down what he guessed were a set of stairs, the soft hum of music came from somewhere on the second floor, and the gentle tick of a clock on the wall counted away the seconds. Surprisingly, that was it. Even from outside, he could pick up the scents of two other people, but from how quiet the house currently sat, he figured they weren't home.

The lock clicked and the door opened, bringing his gaze downward to land on the welcoming smile Kagome greeted him with. "You're early."

"Did you expect me to be late?" He retorted, walking through the threshold.

"Kind of. I always am." She said, shutting the door. Her feet shuffled along the wooden floor in their socks, like taking actual footsteps was abnormal in a place as comfortable as her own home. With a small wave of her hand, she ushered him to follow as she scuffled into the kitchen to their right, the sloppy bun on her head bouncing with her movements. Typically, it took a while for Inuyasha, or anyone for that matter, to feel relaxed in a place they'd never been, especially something as sensitive as another person's residence, yet watching her glide her feet along the floor like a weirdo provided a sense of easement.

While her back was turned to him, he allowed his eyes to wander over her, oddly lingering at the nape of her neck. Short, loose strands of hair fell from the knot at her crown, curling and waving free to decorate her fair skin nicely, and though he was willing to bet it was the natural splay of her baby hairs, Inuyasha couldn't help but feel the messiness suited her so well that it was modeled to look that way. The long-sleeve shirt hung loosely on her, the texture appearing extremely comfortable, and the color a pastel pink, while her leggings were straight black and hugged her body nicely. Very nicely.

Kagome grabbed an unopened bag out of the cupboards, the crinkling sound loud as she spun around to him.

"Sweet or salty?"

"Salty." He replied.

"Thought so. And cookies for me." She said, reaching toward the higher cabinet, her shirt rising to expose an inch of her midriff. Inuyasha looked off to the side, concentrating on the hanging aprons on the opposite wall. It was more out of habit than anything. He didn't enjoy taking the risk of making any girl feel vulnerable, and more than ever, he felt compelled to be mindful.

She'd shoved the snacks in the crook of her left arm, shuffling over to the fridge and pulling out two bottles of water, which she then skillfully carried in the crook of the opposite arm, gliding back his way, passed him, and toward the stairs.

"Let me carry something." He couldn't help but chuckle. She was fucking cute.

"No, no. Come, come."

"Give me the waters." Their height difference made it easy to reach over her shoulders to snag the tops to the bottles, robbing them from her grip just before she began her trek up the stairs.

Framed photographs scaled the wall the entire way up, giving the hanyou a brief glimpse into this family's past. Kagome as a little girl, a shapely, little boy, a woman propping a baby on her hip while a man supported a small girl on his shoulders, a hunched and elderly man with the proudest smile. It wasn't hard to figure out why he only smelled three different people and not five. She'd experienced loss. Just as he had.

She smiled more than him, though. She seemed to communicate better, as well. Was she good at covering things up? Had she healed? Or were her scars not as deep?

"Where's your family?" Inuyasha asked, coming off casual so it didn't seem obvious that he was prying.

Kagome led him into her bedroom, the music playing through her laptop speakers on her desk light and folksy. "Mom's at work, and she dropped my brother off somewhere, so no clue where he is. Make yourself comfortable."

The two men in her life were gone.

Her walls weren't very cluttered, just a few things hanging here and there. A cliche galaxy poster hung over her bed near the door, a cork board with polaroids and photo booth pictures, and interestingly enough, a knotted, red string of all things. She turned off the music and shut her laptop, bringing his attention to swing her way and observe the clutter on her desk. On top of an open notebook, decorated with little scribbles and doodles, sat a pair of reading glasses. His first thought was to dismiss them as a hipster accessory, considering the fad for glasses was pretty large with girls and he'd never once seen Kagome wearing them around school, but when he saw the very minor magnification through the lenses, he realized he was wrong. Kagome wears glasses. And, then he thought of Kagome in glasses.

A curious grin grew on his face as he sauntered over and set the waters on the desk's surface, switching out for the pair of spectacles. "Four eyes, huh?"

Her cheeks seemed to ripen in tint, just by half a shade, when he held them in front of her face. The frames were thick, slightly curved on top while round on the bottom, maybe even a size too large for her, and in that brown, tortoise shell design.

"Uh, yeah." She meagerly admitted, actively trying not to duck her head. "I just got them not too long ago. I only have to wear them when I'm on my computer."

"If that's the case, you're probably supposed to wear them while you're watching TV and reading, right?"

"I may have heard something like that."

“And, what are we about to do?"

"Oh, no."

"Come on." Inuyasha ushered, handing the glasses over. He really couldn't help how badly he wanted to see them on her. "You don't want to make your eyes worse."

"You know, I get the sense that you're just looking for ammunition to make fun of me." Kagome grimaced, apprehensively taking them by the temple of the frame.

"Me?" He shook his head. "Never."

"Yeah, no, it's not worth it." She decided, putting the glasses down on top of her laptop, intending to reach across for her notebook.

"They're just glasses! What's the worst I could say?" He chuckled, his question stopping her mid-stretch.

"Knowing you, you'll come up with something."

"Try me."

Reluctantly, Kagome gave in with a disgruntled sigh, picking the glasses back up and sliding them over her ears. As she looked back at him, her brown eyes fully meeting his amber, it seemed as if he was painfully resisting to laugh. "Say it."

"What?" The word was tightly clenching in his throat.

"Just get it over with." She pouted.

"All you need is bifocals and you'll really be working those old man frames."

"They're not - they're cute!"

They really were. And, he really liked them on her. But, was he going to say that? Hell no. When she ripped them off and dropped them where they once laid, he swallowed his disappointment, chuckling as the sulk grew even more vividly on her face. She took her notebook and a nearby pencil, crossing the room to get comfortable on her bed where she'd dumped the bags of chips and cookies.

"Alright, what subject are you worst at?"

"I think it's easier to ask what subject I'm actually good at." She replied, almost too confidently for someone admitting they were a mess. The half demon cocked a brow inquisitively. "It's history."

"Jesus, what did I sign up for?"

"It's not too late for you to back out." Kagome smiled, shrugging. “We can always just eat the munchies, watch TV, and pretend nothing ever happened.”

“Fat chance," Inuyasha dropped onto the end of the mattress. "I got nothing better to do, anyway. Math. We'll start there."

He could literally see the distaste on her face. It was like an an insult she was waiting for him to take back, and when she realized he wasn't going to, she reached for her bag on the floor next to her bed and pulled out the necessary book and homework packet.

—

"Wrong."

"How?"

"It's wrong."

"I haven't even finished the problem yet."

"Yeah, stop while you're still ahead, dummy. Did you even look at the way I solved this one?" Inuyasha pointed to the similar problem he'd made on her notebook, the long equation written out for her to examine as she took to her sheet of homework.

The irritated, reddened skin of his knuckles came into full view, and having resisted the temptation for long enough - considering she'd noticed the scabbed skin an hour or so ago - and having to have endured his abrasive ways of tutoring, Kagome went ahead and flicked the end of her pencil against the marred area with no remorse. The hanyou jerked his hand away, glowering spitefully.

"You got into another fight, didn't you?" She questioned. Her tone was more snarky than anything, like it was a normal question and it was absolutely her place to inquire.

"Remember what I said the last time you asked?" He sneered.

"Let's see, I saw you last Friday night and you had a black eye and a scrape on your face." She was talking with her pencil instead of her hands, bobbing it around as she continued on, completely ignoring him. "By Monday afternoon, there was no evidence of the fight, whatsoever. Obviously, that's because your demon blood gives you supernatural healing powers. Now, considering these marks weren't around this Friday during school, and they're still pretty bad at the moment, my guess is they happened between that night and yesterday."

"Good deduction, Watson." Inuyasha rolled his eyes. "Just one question: When did we see each other on Friday?"

Kagome adjusted her position slightly to hide the way she'd almost tensed, playing things off as smoothly as possible. "We go to the same school, Inuyasha. If you'd pay attention to your surroundings for once, you'd probably see me, too."

"Right." He said, dragging out the word while maintaining a straight expression. "Funny how you see me from a distance, and you pay attention to my hands of all things."

"S-stop dodging the question." She stammered, her confidence steadily dwindling away.

"How wildly observant of you. What else do you stare at?"

"Woah, I don't stare."

"I mean, it's okay if you do. A little weird, but I'm still flattered." He shrugged, an arrogant grin on his face.

She groaned loudly, clenching her jaw as she refocused on the math equation she was working on. "Never mind. Just stop fighting already."

“And, I think you'll know what my response to that will be." It took viable effort to remain patient, despite his sarcastic jokes. Patience was not his forte. He was hotheaded, and liked being hotheaded. It made people back the fuck off, but a twinge in his gut held him at bay.

"Yeah, yeah. Mind my business."

"Good. Now, erase that shit and start -"

"But, you could seriously get hurt!"

Inuyasha was the one to groan this time, lolling his head back before snapping back up to glare at her with slight indignation. "Oh my god. Knock it off, Kagome."

"What's the point of it? What does it even prove? That you're a big, macho, tough guy? You could really get hurt, or even hurt someone else! Why would you want to do that?"

The grimace on his face was strong, genuine surprise from her remarks overcoming his irritation. "Geez, you really are something straight out of Sesame Street."

"Wait, how did you - you heard that?" He pointed to the ears on top of his head in a duh manner. It was a paradigm to how much he actually did pay attention, no matter the disinterest he almost always had etched on his face. “Oh. Well, behave and I wouldn't have anything to lecture you about."

"Why do you assume the fights are my fault?"

"No, that's not what I'm trying to say. I would prefer to think they weren't your doing, but to be fair, you haven't given me any clarification to work with. I'm just trying to cover all bases. Behave could mean don't start fights or participate if someone tries to start one."

"So, don't fight back?"

"Right."

"Just let them hit me?"

"What? No."

"Well, what else am I supposed to do?" Inuyasha's tone was on the harsher side, agitated, his brow twitching inward in speculation.

"Walk away. Are you saying people come and start fights with you?"

“Drop it.” He grunted.

"But, why?"

"I used to roll with a bad crowd, okay?" He fumed, fed up with her persistency. "Unfortunately, I've got some attributes that don't really allow me to go under the radar. Now shut up and get back to work!"

Kagome heeded his tone, sealing her lips, the space surrounding the two of them tense and awkward. She was sort of proud of herself for getting the truth out of him, or some of it at least, but she didn't like that he'd gotten so upset. He had a temper for sure. One that was maybe even worse than her own. Yeah, she was pressing for information that had nothing to do with her, and she could understand how that would tick him off, but the budding concern she had for him wasn't something she necessarily wanted to subdue. She wanted to know he was okay. To her, that wasn't such a bad thing. Depending on the scenario, Kagome would intrude on any one of her friends to make sure they were alright.

"Can I ask one more question, please?" She approached, her voice small and timid. She'd erased the entire math problem on her paper, the notebook propped on her knee, and her brown eyes were peeking up at him cautiously through her dark fringe. His scowl still lingered, mouth curved downward in clear disapproval, but he made no verbal attempt to stop her. "If you used to be such a bad boy, how come you excel so well in school? Not to sound totally judgmental, but stereotypically speaking, it's kind of contradictory if you think about it."

Ember irises fell down to focus on the scratch paper on her leg, his lips relaxing. "If you're such a goody goody, why do you suck so much in school?"

The rebuttal was fair. She couldn't even get upset about it, and there was no hesitation to her response. "For one, I'm not a goody goody. Two, I really don't have an answer to that, because I often wonder the same thing."

He chuckled lightly. "Then what would you say you are?"

“Average, probably." She shrugged.

“Is that what they’re calling it now?”

“Hush. What's your excuse?"

"I'm smart. I don't have a problem focusing, which apparently you fucking do." He, once again, tapped his finger against her notebook, a little more aggression that time. Kagome laughed, going back to scribbling down the problem, and it irked him that the gratifying sound calmed his blood. He'd never once felt soothed by a noise, or comfortable with a person right off the bat, or compelled to hang around despite being aggravated. In the moment, it was enjoyable. Nice.

But, there was no way he'd allow an attachment to form.

It was a conscientious decision. One he didn't really have to remind himself of anymore. By now, it was habit to shut things down before bonds formed. He wasn't worried about things going too far with Kagome. It was a little disconcerting to recognize how quickly he, himself, seemed to unfurl to her, but he was sure that there was no possibility of either of them intending on making anything out of it. She was friendly, she was nosy as all hell, but that was about the extent of it all. He understood that she meant no harm.

What was interesting to him was how easy it seemed to be around her, to talk to her. Even after he admitted he'd made mistakes that have followed him to this day, she didn't seem to pull away or scorn him. Instead, she judged him for his good academic record, which was the exact opposite of what anyone would ever expect. Without overthinking, and without the effervescent pressing need to withhold himself, he decided indulging her with basic responses couldn't hurt.

"I made a promise to someone to get through school. That's all you're getting."

Kagome smiled. She had no intention on prodding for more. By him saying "someone," she could tell that he'd purposefully not given specifics, and she respected that. Additionally, this gave her a glimpse at his honest and loyal side. It was admirable.

And, the softness that took over his features when he said it was enough to warm her to the core.

| 1 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 |

#inuyasha #kagome #kagome higurashi #miroku #sango #inukag #mirsan #inuyasha fanfiction #Inuyasha fanfic #inuyasha fic #inukag fanfiction #inukag fanfic #inukag fic #high school au #coming of age #delicate #my writing #akitokihojo

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ghostprincess · 5 years

Text

Sweet Things, Ch. 1 (Mysterio x Reader)

I finally got around to posting something. Yay! This has been stirring around my brain for a while, since before the movie came out, and I’m glad I can characterize Quentin as mostly canon. This series’ title will be based off of “Sweet Things” by The Pretty Reckless because I love that song and couldn’t think of a better title.

Summary: Mysterio kidnaps Y/N Parker as leverage against Peter, as well as because he has taken a liking to her. But the longer she stays with him, the more twisted her reality becomes, until it’s nothing but him. Will Peter be able to save her before it’s too late? Dark!fic, Stockholm Syndrome, dub-con, etc.

Warnings: ffh spoilers, violence, drug/tranquilizer use (but that happens in the movie), uhhh Mysterio is his own warning so??

The notion of chaperoning my brother’s field trip did not strike me as exciting. I dreaded the long flight and the presence of hormonal teenagers. Add in all the shared trauma from the “blip” and it all seemed to create a hearty concoction of disaster.

However, I was pleasantly surprised to find that the trip was not as bad as I thought it would be. One of the new superheroes, Mysterio, had been helping Peter and what was left of SHIELD to destroy a new threat against the planet. He was a man named Quentin, a warrior from another dimension, who had lost his family and his entire planet to these creatures. I guess shared trauma wouldn’t be the word to use here, but given my history of losing my entire family for five years, we had some things in common that made him almost magnetic.

Besides the disastrous attacks of the impossibly terrifying Elementals and the looming threat of the earth’s destruction, I was having a pretty okay time. It wasn’t that Mysterio was pure eye candy… though he was… but he had a very unique personality that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. Ever since the night I met him, I couldn’t stop thinking about him. His presence was electric, and although he was righteous and tortured and brave, something seemed… off. I suppose that happens when you have to put on a facade to save a planet that isn’t even yours, though. I couldn’t imagine what he’d been through, or how he somehow hid the pain behind his piercing azure blue eyes.

The sudden sounds of laughter and joyous screams pierced the air around me, pulling me from my daydream and putting me on edge. I was stationed on the grounds of the carnival in order to help the innocent civilians escape the attack that was about to break out. The night seemed normal and fun, as it should be; but I knew that would all end soon.

Peter’s voice suddenly murmured electronically into my earpiece, confirming his position to Fury and Mysterio.

“Peter, please be careful,” I whispered into the comm, stomach doing backflips. I couldn’t lose him again.

“I know, I will, Y/N,” he responded before being interrupted by Fury’s irritated voice. I took the earpiece out and turned it off, knowing that if I listened to them fight I would either get extremely anxious or accidentally distract them with my big mouth.

I dropped the earpiece into my shoulder bag and looked around; no sign of trouble yet, just a seemingly normal night of partying at the carnival. People in masks and colorful clothes ran around excitedly and the smells of popcorn and cotton candy wafted through the air.

No sign of fire or smoke anywhere. Was Beck really sure of the creature’s arrival?

I looked around again, scanning the crowd for any signs of distress, but found nothing. Except.... one of Peter’s friends, the girl he liked, walked past me obliviously.

Shit, they’re supposed to be at the opera!

I reached into my bag to report the unexpected arrival into the earpiece, but was interrupted when the ground shook and I nearly lost my balance. The sounds of cracking and sizzling interrupted the carnival music followed by the horrified screams of the civilians. The wind suddenly transformed into a gust of hot air and a large orange mass began to emerge from the ground.

As the crowd began to scream and run away, chaos broke loose and I was being shoved in the crowd. I pushed back against the swarm of people, desperately trying to push them behind me to safety, making sure I could save as many people as possible.

“Go! Get out of here! Run!” I screamed. A circus tent was mostly blocking my view of the main battle, flashes of molten orange and electric green lighting up the night. The monster’s horrible screams became louder and the ground shook harder as it seemingly gained strength.

The crowd finally parted enough to where I could stand behind a tent and have a good sense of what was going on while staying hidden. I got the last of the crowd out of the way after a few minutes of pushing and shoving them out of the way of falling debris, then stopped to listen to the fight.

The urge to eavesdrop on the comms between Peter and Beck was overwhelming, especially considering that Beck’s laser-energy blasts sounded almost useless against the creature. I desperately hoped Peter was okay, and my knees trembled as a fear-induced nausea began to wash over me. I looked around the side of the tent just as a large green explosion shook the night sky, the energy of the blast pushing me to the ground.

Mysterio had done something huge; possibly lethal by the looks of it. The man was no longer hovering in the air and shooting lasers, and the green lights blinded most of my vision. I shielded my eyes and stayed on the ground until the electric zapping noises died down, and the monster’s wails disappeared.

I looked around the edge of the tent again and saw Peter’s silhouette standing over Beck’s kneeling form, and I immediately ran towards them. He’s okay. He survived.

“Peter!” I yelled in panic, and pulled him into a tight embrace.

“I-I’m okay, a-are you hurt?” he responded, looking crestfallen despite the victory.

“I’m fine. Beck, are you okay?” I asked, reaching a shaky hand out to him.

“Well, now that you’re here, I’m alright.” He half-smirked at me and accepted my hand, pulling himself to his feet, his body slightly twisted in pain. I could almost feel Peter’s eye roll, and I didn’t blame him, though I found myself blushing nonetheless.

“Thank you for having his back,” I smiled, pulling the man into a tight embrace. I pulled away as I remembered seeing MJ and my stomach dropped, knowing I hadn’t seen her while I was evacuating the crowd.

“Oh! Peter, I have to tell you, I saw—“

“Y/N, go back to your base. We’re having a mission debrief and it’s need-to-know,” Fury interrupted from behind me. I startled, not even knowing he was there, then sighed.

“Alright. Peter, call me when you get back,” I said. I nodded at Beck with a sad smile and then turned and began the walk from the destroyed carnival back to the hotel.

Having a younger brother as a superhero had definitely put me in some weird situations, but this has got to be among the top ranked. Especially when said younger brother used to be the same age as me until he was dusted for half a decade. My predicament was unique and exciting but no less terrifying and traumatizing.

When Peter and May had returned, I had been in denial for days, thinking I’d finally gone crazy, until Captain America himself was brought in to explain to me what had happened. Ever since then, I’d been very protective of Peter, knowing that if I lost him again I would truly not survive. Silent tears escaped my eyes and I quickly wiped them away.

He’ll be okay. They did it.

The distressed look in his eyes despite his victory begged to differ, and the thought ate at me relentlessly. What could have been wrong? Was he hurt? My heart rate was through the roof and I could feel the panic setting in as I imagined losing him again.

I entered the hotel and walked straight to my room, slipping past the students and two teachers frolicking around the lobby. MJ passed me in the hallway, looking shaken but unharmed, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

I entered my room, 131, and I shut and locked the door behind me, finally sinking to my knees and allowing myself to hyperventilate. I couldn’t help but wonder whether the monster was really dead; what if it regenerated? What if another one showed up? Peter could’ve been in danger right now for all I knew, he could’ve…

Throughout the night, my thoughts slowly quieted down. I stood in the shower until the hot water ran out, the too-hot temperature being somewhat grounding and cathartic in my state. After I threw on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, I got into bed, the exhaustion finally hitting my body.

Knock knock knock.

I startled, sitting up in the bed and flicking on the lamp beside the bed. The clock read 1:42 AM. The knock had come from the window, and I looked up, seeing the figure floating outside my window. Mysterio.

I quickly stood up and walked to the window to slide it open. He floated inside and then landed in front of me, the silvery helmet disappearing. His face showed pity and I looked away, embarrassed that he could read me so easily.

“Peter’s alright, I promise. Just got some verbal backlash from Fury, that’s all.”

“Oh… okay. He never called me when he got back; he got back, right?”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. Of course. He said something about talking to a girl he likes, so he’s probably just busy.”

“Oh, okay, that’s… that’s good.” I breathed a sigh of relief, falling back to sit on the edge of my bed.

“But how are you? Are you alright? I know it has to be scary, to have all this happening,” Beck said, putting a soothing hand on my shoulder. I looked up at him. His gaze was soft but calculated, as if he felt pity but knew what I was going to say before I said it.

“I’m fine. I just… can’t lose my brother again. Everything that happened with the snap, it just… it took its toll, I guess.”

Beck sat down next to me and wrapped a comforting arm around me.

“I’m really sorry to have to do this, Y/N.” I looked up at him in confusion.

“What do you m—“ A sharp pain blossomed in the side of my neck and I gasped. Beck pulled the empty syringe out and tucked it into a compartment in his armor, then watched as I tried to stand up. The room was spinning and my body was getting heavier, and I tried to run to the door to escape. What is going on?

Beck grabbed my arm and that was all it took for me to collapse to my knees, my vision slowly fading out. He walked to kneel in front of me and smiled sadly.

“I really am sorry. I’ll explain when you wake up.”

Just then, I heard a frantic banging at the door, and Peter’s voice yelling my name. It sounded distant and echoey, and what direction was it coming from?

“Shhh, don’t want to alert our company,” Beck whispered, and then everything went black.

#mysterio #mysterio x reader #Quentin Beck #quentin beck x reader #spiderman far from home #spiderman #spiderman ffh #spider-man far from home #jake gyllenhaal x reader #jake gyllenhaal #stockhom syndrome #whump #marvel x reader #marvel #peter parker x reader #dark fic #dark #dubcon

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sassaetcie · 3 years

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Silver x Idia (The Molten Charcoal) chapter 6

I genuinely do not know how to schedule what’s going on in my brain, especially since that fic has been over for a while

-I'm sorry, I don't really understand what you said. Though... I know I don't find it awful to hear.

This was one of the numerous neutral ends to be expected for sure. He was too nice to tear my heart apart, and yet not in love. I was probably... lucky in a sense. How could this prince made of alabaster, no, dragging himself, no... climbing a mount of alabaster he had forged by himself... How could he even look at me without being shaken by disgust? I should have swooned for even being looked at and not mocked... No! No... I don't deserve something bad because of them... As long as I... I'm sorry Ortho... Why am I the one living? Why aren't you the one who has lived on... You always have been so lively and outgoing... I'm just... I've always have been like this but... your death made me understood that I wasn't just introvert as fuck... I just hurt everyone no matter what I do...

-That being said... I don't really understand feelings, especially stronger ones like the one you seemed to describe. You really made a line on each of my feature, didn't you? That's praise-worthy. I would like to understand them... with you by my side. We are both lost, this should be easier if one of us suddenly understand. Of course, this only works if you agree with my proposition... I hope I am not being harsh. I don't intend on hurting you.

-H-huh? Does t-t-t-t-t-hat mean you... w-w-want us to meet again? Later? Again?

-Yes, I want us to meet again. I hope I will not fall asleep before, though.

-Oo-o-oh, speaking of this... We may l-look for an... antidote? For your... huh... sleeping troubles... O-only if you want me to h-h-h-help, of course! I would understand if you feel like I'm pitiying you, but I s-s-swear I'm not, I really just want to help even if it's probably some means to only satisfy myself, I'm...

-...It is true that I never truly saw you help other people. That makes me even more curious. Hmm, I will just need some time when Old... Lilia Vanrouge and Sebek are available to watch over Mal... Draconia. I cannot let my guard down, after all. I know nothing happened yet but... It could, probably.

-O-o-o-okay, p-please tell me whenever you a-are ready to s-s-s-s-see me again, t-t-t-hen... You can tell Ortho for sure... I think?

I made sure one ending was pushed away by another strategy. Of course, I shoud stop thinking of this as a endings-crossroad but... My... love for Silver is different, without a doubt. Not especially better, or worse. It's just... not something I can explain with... love. Do I deserve to call this... love, anyway? I could just lack affection to this point or want to make a reality ouf ot fiction. But I need to dream too. If I don't, I'll be... like them, once again. Yet... if I... need to dream and don't dream on my own, I am lying too. But was this "love" invented by adults or non-adults, anyway?

-I see. Thanks for this... date. It was interesting, and I am... glad, I think. That you talked to me with such expressiveness. I wish I could thank my Old Man the way you told me all of these things.

-H-hm... I will n-n-n-n-n-need to first update Ortho's memory... But... we can... maybe? Meet again... Like... huh...

-Well, not during my timetable for sure. I cannot afford to ashame the family, all this stuff... even if I think I really should not. My Old Man is a kind man and I don't want to betray him.

-O-oo-okay... wh-hen do you t-t-think you'll be free... then?

He could have run away using this option. He was the one handling them between these perfect phalanx born from the sea. ...He wasn't the only one, of course. Luck... Luck? Did luck exist to this point... Azul certainly did beat up luck itself. I guess luck is some kind of laziness from myself, lol... Probably only for and from myself... Luck would be reflected differently in this water I see only blue and grey, I guess.

-Hmm... I'll tell you when I am sure my timetable will not change.

Or did he take another ending? Telling one lie to say the truth right after, or the other way round... He could tell two lies, or tell the truth forever. But... doubting him was already a stupid thing to do, actually. I mean, why should I have doubt him? If he didn't like me.. Fine by me... That was what I expected in most cases anyway. But if he didn't tell me he actually couldn't stand me? Then, it was... probably alright. I didn't need to doubt him that much, did I? Or that would mean betraying myself again. Yeah... boring af.

-O-okay! I... huh... hope you'll have a good day...

I can't remember if I really wished from all of my body, from top to toe... Or if it was some formal greeting I tried on him. I guess I wanted him to be happy nonetheless yet did I feel it this way? I can't remember. No feeling has shaken me neither my heart nor my brain. So, was it a kind lie of some kind, or some strange truth? I cannot recall. Or is there anything to be recalled, anyway? Perhaps I cannot reminisce because it never happened in the first place. His icy hair floated outside the shadow, and didn't melt, yeah. His hands of soft mid-water went away with him. His eyes of ocean, he brought them away as well. Or perhaps was he a sailor of some other world in the end? Surely most people were fusing along this ocean and stars, but he wasn't. So was I... somewhere else but some kind of... sailor as well? This sea of feelings was one my eyes I couldn't set on. Or was he... Sure, I wanted to ride over this space of water. See my reflection... my reflection. Maybe seeing this hair... wet. All of these flames, engulfed in some bubbles I couldn't touch... yet? I remembered trying to gather my limbs when Silver was nowhere to be seen. I guess I didn't collapse because no one was there as well... Or at least, my eyes didn't catch anyone as I was getting away from the tree restored to its original role. Apple trees only. No apple was on the ground, or yet at least. None of the red shining was separated from the green shining. They were together... Happy together, right? Somehow. Well, more like because apples were not ripe yet but. As soon at this apple was on its own, it would... live a few days. And rot away. They were... happy together. Unhappy separated. Would I...? Since I was unhappy of... this hair which never had been mine... Could I be... blessed with happiness, visited by happiness, granted happiness, if I were to cut off this blazing "blood"? I... just slept again, once I was back in the heat.

[Started Recording at : 1PM : Eighth ? Day]

-Big Bro! Big Bro! Please open the door, I have some really good news!

-Huuuh? What the... O-o-o-o—ortHO? Did something bad happen but you try to see it as good?!

-No, no, I really mean it! It's a... good piece of news!

-T-Then you can say... it t-t-through the door, right? I'm in the middle of something and I

-You're not! You usually let me open the door even if you're in the middle of a game, don't you? :(

-Ehhh?!

-I'm going in!

The door was not invaded by Hell, no matter what Hell was. No stains invaded the black and white limbs made of illusory obsidian. A superficial obsidian, yet made out of idealism. Five fingers touched the door, even if it could very likely open up by a presence. Nothing burned the prosthesis. Blue and purple lights crossed each other between figures and mangas piled up, whether by chronological order, graphic preferences and reflections, randomness or significance. Yet only these two lights, as full of shades as they are, shared no more shades. A ridiculous prairie-green, a small yellow-sun, a azure-sky, lights... were not used, yet, probably. The heatwave's spirit was sitting on a bed, chained up by his unfortunate owner. The Ignihyde bed was being sat on. The blanket was barely away between the ten asynchronous fingers.

-Were you sleeping, Big Bro?!

-... Y-yeah... I tried to... I was kind... of... exhausted... and my head felt dizzy as fuck so I-I just...

-So that makes two good news today!!!

-I... guess s-s-so... S-s-s-so what... why did... you come here?

The little brother closed the door anyway.

-Silver told me that he was free on tomorrow!

-Huh? W-w-w-w-wait, he's already free?! I-i-I don't mean t-t-t-t-t-t-hat I don't want to see h-h—him and all! Just that... I thought he would... have been longer?

-He told me he was very curious to see you again so he tried to be free as soon as possible! He also told me he was... ahem! "Sorry if I fail to understand your feelings by being too fast when it comes to see you again".

His fingers for sure made the blanket fly some centimeters, then go back to wrapping them. Two phalanx hid before going out again, then replaced by some others. Perhaps would it end when all hands were to be outside or inside. The friction definitely did not throng through his headphone, at least the thing he could handle for sure. Wasn't he choosing which sounds were going back and forth right now? Whether he was confused, happy or sad was hard to see. Or maybe both, actually? One hand disappeared while the other aired him. His hand ventilated him, then. A tight smile pierced the frozen yet burning blue lips, covering a range of shark teeth that didn't fit all of this. He... grabbed one of his other hand.

-Are you alright... big bro? You didn't answer and now you're acting... weird, if I may say so.

-I'm... Uuuuh...! I feel stupid but... This is my hand! And this one too! They're... mine!

-Well... this is your body, so yes.

-I mean... I know! But... m-m-my hands... My mouth feels weird, but not my hands...

-And yet you're smiling, Big Bro? O-o

-I AM?!

Idia raised his arms toward the smile going out of range. Why was it acting on its own, and not his hands? He spread himself in his own fingers, fiddling with the anomaly which was truly one, among the body getting rid of these things. He was made of these hundred anomalies before. So now... there were "these" ones left. But these were only "fixed". The others would probably keep on acting on their own... Or was it supposed to? Some water escaped through two symetrical curiosities, painted blue by some inheritance as well.

-Big Bro, should I tell you that you're crying as well? Are you sure everything's okay? I can tell Silver to postpone the date if necessary... :(

-N-n-n-no! I'm... I'm alright. This is just weird to explain. I'll try to explain to him first and then I'll tell you what the fuck happened... okay? I think. Is that okay? Am I being weird, right now?!

-...Okay so I'll tell him that you're available tomorrow on 6pm?

-Y-yes... t-thanks, Ortho. Where would be the date, though?

-Near the apple tree to "begin with", as he told me.

-"To begin with"?! I... I'm scared now... But I shouldn't, right, right? It's Silver we're talking about, he probably miscommunicated... Like I usually do... 6pm by the apple tree, the one where we met... He will be alone, right, right?

-...well, yes. Why should he be accompanied, big bro?

-I-i-i-I dunno! I just was worried about stuff and... I'm just huh... That's all? I asked everything I had to ask?

-I... guess so! So I'll be off, big bro! Please call me if something goes wrong!

-Y-yes... H-huh! Wait... Did you... have... had some troubles with your memory?

Shroud coerced his hands into forming one, to escape from anxiety or hide something else. The tears were already dried, but surely he would not mind crying again if needed. But maybe not now.

-I don't think so, Big Bro! Please don't worry about me for the moment, let's be sure you end up in a healthy relationship with Silver to ensure you two a beautiful ever-after!

-Are you s

The one who desired to acquire a different type of water, who did not see water as such, put away his feet walking on the ground, flying through the doors opening themselves in the magical technology they knew so well.

-...I guess Ortho didn't want to be updated today... He w-w-w-wouldn't be lying to me, right... right.

[Ended Recording at : 1h15 PM : Eighth? Day]

I didn't really know what to do. I mean, that's obvious I didn't, right... I have one day to gather myself and know what I should expect... But what should I even expect? Will we talk again, like nothing happened? No, right, right? He told me my... hair... comforted him... or did I get him wrong? He's also having troubles to communicate... So... What if he... made a mistake? He may have meant... that the warm flames comforted him, but that the blue hue made him uncomfortable... Or he didn't want to hurt me! He's as anxious as me, maybe...? Or at least he got troubles with expressing his feelings, like me for sure. But it can be in a different way... Maybe in a "normal" way? Perhaps...? He always stated what he wanted to tell me, tho. Or did he... really like it? Does he really like it? Is he fond of it? Does he love it? Does he think it's funny, like probably most of people? Or is he...?! Is he some kind of perverse who likes stuff people usually don't...! No, that wouldn't be some kind of perverse stuff. I mean... if being different is being perverse, I need to wash my fucking brain with bleach, lol. But then... what should I expect? We can't possibly sit again under the same tree and wait for an answer, can we? So... what should I do? No, what should I tell Ortho... Wait, should I tell Ortho first so that he can warn Silver about what I want to do?! Wouldn't I be impatient and selfish, though... I don't want to impose but he may also be waiting for me to suggest something for us to do... Or does he want to know more about myself, too?! Hmmmmmmmmmmmmm... Maybe I should go with something simple, but not too simple, too?! What if... I can't really bring one of my console, huuuh... He could think I just want to listen to him as a lo-fi playlist NONONONONONO?! So games are out of place... and I don't want to bring a board game... he could think the same, even if he plays along... Suff suff suff...! No. So... Maybe... drawing with him? No, no, no way. So many people think it's something we do on our own... and we don't talk much usually, nonononono... But I could also show it to him to prove him that it's a wrong way of thinking and... isn't that twisted? I'm sorry Ortho, I'm sorry... Ain't I going back to where I shouldn't?! SuffocationsuffocationsUFFOCATIONSUFFSUFFSUFFSUFFSUFFSUFF

no no no. That's alright. He may ask me something, or may chose something on his own. I just need to be sure it's something I want to do as well, right, right? No videogames, no games, no drawing... Just speaking won't solve the problem, especially if I don't know how to start a conversation and I can't watch tutorials on Youtube, I'll just sound so phony and all... I mean... the most obvious and... normal thing to do would be to invite him to a karaoke or a thing like this? He probably doesn't sing extremely well... so I shouldn't be too ashamed, right? Well, if he does, that would be dangerous because it could endanger my whole Prince Charming's balance stuff... But if he does? That would just be so cool... Yeah... I should go for a karaoke session... But where should I bring him? I can't possibly bring him to my room... right?

I played some games (mostly RPGs lol) to see if there could a good place for a date but... I don't really want it to turn out like an absolutely planned date? A beautiful woodland, a shore where seagulls are singing peacefully, a town above water and full of falling stars... That would really sound like I'm scheming something... So... maybe my room wouldn't be that weird, actually? As long as I don't lock the door it shouldn't sound weird... If Ortho is telling... No, he's obviously telling the truth. Nobody should try to go in as long as Ortho helps me... How long will he need to help me, though... I'm... already the reason why we were separated... and yet he keeps on helping me. Is it because I made him that way? My guilt will never be enough, I know that... I should at least... go with Silver. I'll be less of a burden for him. He'll be... able to walk on his two legs like he wanted to. So... my room would be the best choice. It won't be a fake fancy place... It won't be an expensive stuff I'll do to show off... It won't a place crowded with people where I will throw up or collapse or go insane or screech or become weird or... SuffSUFFSUFFSUFFSUFF No nononono. Let's not think about this one. I guess it would prove him how courageous and all I am but... I can't do this. My Eloquence skill is far too damaged when I'm among people. So... my room would definitely, absolutely be the best choice... And I should be able to play with the speakers so that he spends a good time... Yeah. We got the best wi-fi as well. I should be able to search for lost stuff if he needs me to... Let's... tell Ortho about this. For the last time, I will tell him something that only shows how selfish I am...

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland fanfiction #twst fanfiction #idia x silver

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theladylovingcrow · 4 years

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Fuck the Movie, I Wanna Fuck You (Sanny)

Author (As known on Various sites): Lady Lover - Rockfic, luluthechoosingcrow- AO3, theladylovingcrow - Wattpad and Deviantart, @imacrowcawcaw - main Tumblr, @theladylovingcrow writing/art Tumblr, @insannywestan - Sanny shipping Tumblr, @sammy_bluebells - Instagram

Fandom: Greta Van Fleet

Pairing: Sam Kiszka/Danny Wagner (Sanny)

Length: about 2k

Warnings/Tags: smut (mutual masturbation, handjobs, cum eating, semi-public sex, making out), some attempted humor, Sanny!!!, movies, first time, first kiss, Kiszka Family in background

Summary: They were taking a break from touring, just chilling back in Frankenmuth. Danny had come over to his second home, and was snuggled up on the couch with his best friend, watching a movie. Everyone else was doing their thing - cooking, playing, talking on the phone - all perfectly normal for a nice, happy family. But FUCK Sam was feeling horny, naughty, and curious as to how Danny would react if he moved his hand just a bit higher....

Author's Notes:

Inspired by a meme on Tumblr that then made me think of Sam and Danny

> *one fish from the spongebob cartoon starts casually unbuttoning another's pants in a movie theater* sigh this movie boring

> Sam: *yawns*

> Danny: bored?

> Sam (shoving his hand down Danny's pants and keeping his eyes on the screen): nope

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

Sam sighed and fidgited, wiggling his little butt against the couch cushions. He had had this idea for, like, twenty minutes, but it was risky - so risky that if any little thing went wrong he would, most likely, be in big trouble. He would get disbelieving, then incredulous, then disgusted, and finally furious looks.

'Sam, what the hell are you doing?! Please don't tell me that was what I thou- you're such a pervert. What the hell is wrong with you?'

And that was only the reactions he imagined he'd get from his family, along with teasing for eternity, once they calmed down. Danny, though - if he reacted badly, then Sam might literally climb onto the roof and refuse to come down, he'd be that embarrassed and ashamed. Except, actually, no, Danny could climb like a monkey. His backup plan was to hide in the woods and become the new Mothman, then.

Danny yawned next to him, putting his arm around Sam's shoulders in the classic move every boy wanted to try since the fifth grade. Inadvertadly, the motion actually made Sam's idea all the easier, which was so not helping him refrain from it.

It was perverted to want to do something like that to your best friend, especially when your family were all within a fifty foot radius of where you were sitting, wandering around and having a jolly good time, occasionally stopping to look in on the movie Danny and Sam were watching.

Ronnie smiled at them, probably thinking it was cute that her little brother was so close with his best friend that they cuddled when they watched a scary kids movie. If only she knew.

Sam clenched his jaw, the acrid burning shame of thinking these thoughts and having these ideas right around his family, having these ideas at all, encompassing his stomach. It was also mingling with another molten liquid - desire, slick and steaming - running down his thighs and wrapping around his fingers, guiding them.

He ran his hand up and down over his own thigh, closing his eyes and imagining that it was Danny's muscled quads he was feeling. The movie was boring as shit, he had only payed attention to the first ten minutes or so; Danny, though, he was captivating and alluring, sitting there next to Sam.

Danny didn't notice any of Sam's internal toil, still being completely invested in whatever cheesy PG thriller they had found on Netflix. He drummed his fingers lightly on Sam's shoulder - always playing to a rhythm, whether he was conscious of it or not. The blanket over their legs shifted a little when Danny uncrossed his feet and brought one knee up on the couch.

Sam mirrored him, seeing the oppurtunity. Fuck the consequences and fuck the likely stupidity of carrying out his plan, he wanted to try goddammit.

Danny didn't really take notice when Sam pushed their thighs together- they always sat close, and he had put his arm around him to cuddle.

Danny didn't care when Sam's hand came to rest on his knee - he just enjoyed the warmth it provided and continued watching the movie. Jake walked by with an harmful of records, heading to the music den with their father, and smirked at them.

When Sam slid his hand up from his knee cap to mid thigh, fingertips pushing into the softer areas of flesh on the insides, he registered it, but it wasn't like Sam never got ultra touchy-feely sometimes.

Sam bit his lip, trying to suppress his grin. He'd gotten this far, and Danny didn't even seem to care! Now, for the make or break -

Danny laughed at something - maybe an over exaggerated fight, Looney Tunes style - when Sam acted out phase two.

He sighed, long and dramatically, resting his head on Danny's shoulder while his hand lightly felt it's way to the bulge in Danny's jeans.

"Bored?" Danny asked, apparently not feeling it yet. Then he stiffened.

"Nope."

Sam kept his cool, head still on Danny's shoulder and eyes now attentively watching the screen. But, under the blankets, he was pushing his fingers into the fly of his best friend's jeans and massaging the head of his dick shit yessss.

He pulled back out and popped the button with only slight difficulty, wrapping his whole hand around Danny. Sam was sure to move slowly, and only his hand, lest anyone see his arm jerking, but he was actually doing it! Jerking Danny off - like he had long wanted to - on the couch while they were watching TV. And no one fucking knew!

What was curious was that Danny hadn't stopped him; he was holding his body, especially his hips, tense, and his breathing was noticeably controlled - but he let Sam do what he was doing.

"It's not a bad movie," Danny spoke, soft, though it still startled Sam. "Could be a bit faster paced, though."

Oh. Well, okay then.

"Yeah, I suppose it could. But, I think it's better this way, since you get to enjoy the buildup more - and the subtlties are nice."

"Mmm, you might be right. I'll have to pay more attention and see."

Sam squeezed and stroked, carefulling pumping Danny. There was no one else in the room at the moment, but he could hear Jake and his dad in the next room, and Ronnie talking to someone down the hall - they wouldn't want to get too carried away.

Danny made a little "Humphh" sound when Sam rubbed his thumb over his slit, spreading the precum around. He pressed his thigh harder against Sam's, whether to stop or encourage him, Sam wasn't sure. He stopped, just in case Danny had changed his mind.

"I'm getting kinda bored of this move, honestly. Wanna go do something else?"

Sam grinned, trying to appear happy but not too happy - he was pretty sure he failed at that, but Josh only gave him a slightly weird look in passing, used to his little brother's eccentricities that near matched his own.

"Yeah, me too. Why don't I show you that new album I got - I know you said it didn't seem like your style but I really think you'll like it."

"Okay," Danny nodded, standing up and keeping the blanket with him, haphazardly folded over his arm in front of his crotch. "I'll try it out. I have a feeling I'll really like it, actually, I'm more open to new experiences now than when you first suggested it."

Sam stood up, too, subtly removing his hand from Danny's front and wrapping his arm around his waist. He guided them over to the stairs and up to his room, turning to lock the door behind them as soon as they both entered.

Danny had dropped the blanket on the floor, and was standing there, staring at Sam, with his pants still hanging open and his hard cock jutting out.

Sam was fucking ecstatic- this was a way better reaction than he'd thought he'd get, but man did that plan pay off. He nearly sprinted over to his record player, picking up a new (ly purchased, but really old) album and putting it on. He didn't know who had heard their conversation, but he wanted to make it seem like they really were just listening to music.

And, the smooth Jazz also helped to sound out the quiet sounds of Sam's hand stroking Danny and their mouths meeting in a passionate French kiss.

Danny broke away, resting his forehead against Sam's and snorting. "Nice music choice, really sets the mood."

Sam shrugged, blushing a bit. "I wasnt necessarily going for this, I just grabbed a record from my stack of new ones."

In truth, he felt like it set a perfect mood, but he didn't wanna say that. This was all cool and fun - making out with his best friend and giving him a hand job, totally normal! - but to try and be romantic? Sam didn't know how far Danny wanted to take this, or if he was just curious about getting off with a guy for a change.

"I like it," Danny whispered, going back in for another kiss.

He tangled their tongues again, but it was slower - more exploratory now that they had gotten the frantic 'Oh my god come here I need to taste you' first kiss out of the way. Danny cupped one hand around the back of Sam's neck, holding him close while he took control of the kiss. Sam let him, of fucking course.

Danny's other hand, Sam realized, was following much the same journey his had earlier - from his thigh, up to tickle the insides, then to squeeze at Sam's own erection trapped in his skinny jeans.

He hadn't expected this - or, at least, had tried not to get his hopes up. Sam would have been satisfied with the one experience of getting Danny to cum, he really would have, but he desired a whole lot more.

Apparently, Danny was going to reciprocate and give that to him. Sam's jeans were undone and he was taken out - no underwear, of course - taken into the warm expanse of Danny's strong hands.

Sam moaned, luckily drowned put by a blast of saxophone from the record player, and bucked his hips against Danny. His best friend smiled against his mouth, stroking Sam in the same rhythm he was being worked.

Their cocks lined up, hands brushing eachother on each upstroke and sticky heads poking against each other's happy trails. Sam looked down at them, couldn't tear his eyes away; this was a bajillion times more interesting than whatever movie they had been watching.

It seemed like the next logical thing to do was to do this together, all the way, when they were so close. So, Sam opened his hand and grabbed his own cock, jerking him and Danny together.

His bestie groaned, biting at his shoulder. He grabbed them, too, making a tunnel out of their hands which they could fuck.

"Oh, oh my god," Sam panted, pumping his hips into their hands and feeling the friction of Danny's soft skin and hard calluses working all around him.

Danny moaned in agreement, moving faster. He moved his other hand from Sam's neck to the small of his back, holding his body while he shuddered and bucked against him.

Sam felt it - that rush of hot, sticky, stringy goo spurting forth from Danny, coating their tunnel and lubricating the almost-too-much friction they had going. He ground his hips in little circles, shoving his face into Danny's neck and breathing in his scent - and them he came, too.

Holy fucking shit. They just had sex! Sam was grinning so hard his face hurt, and, better yet, Danny was wearing the same expression.

They laughed against each other, filled with endorphins and exhaustion all at once. Sam removed his hand, too sensitive now, and Danny did the same.

He looked down, studying the semen that covered his palm and wrist. "That's hot. That was so fucking hot, man..."

Danny nodded, grabbing at Sam's hand and bringing it up to his mouth, tentatively licking it.

"This hotter?"

Sam sighed, watching Danny take another taste. "Maybe. I dunno, all of that was sexy as fuck. You're sexy, shit. I wasn't sure you wouldn't sock me for trying that."

Danny hummed, running his tongue up and down Sam's sticky wrist. "I was definitely startled, but it was weird: like, I knew what you were doing and I knew that should of freaked me out but it didn't. I was just super excited to be doing something so... dirty."

"Ooh, Daniel, such a bad boy," Sam teased.

Danny smiled and shook his head, leaning in to kiss Sam again. Sam moaned when he tasted himself - Danny - themselves, both of them - in his mouth. It wasn't the best thing he had ever tasted, sensory speaking, but the knowledge that he and Danny were sharing their cum in a kiss .. dead, he had died and gone to heaven.

"Fuck, okay can we have movie night like every night?" Danny asked, searching Sam's eyes for the answer to the real question.

"Yeah, every night. Anytime, all day, I don't care, just wanna do that again."

Danny grinned, kissing Sam's throat and running his hand down Sam's abdomen on the racetrack to round two.

----------

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musette22 · 5 years

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Title: Honey, I’m Home

Pairing: Chris Evans x Sebastian Stan (M/M)

Rating: E (18+)

Word count: 4.3k

Summary: After two long months, Chris comes back from filming Red Sea Diving Resort in South Africa. Sebastian is waiting for him at home.

A/N: Soooo, a week or so ago we were blessed with those images of Chris looking solid and hot af in the trailer for Red Sea Diving Resort. @rainbowsandcoconut I got a little thirsty discussing how Chris and Seb’s reunion might have played out when he came back from South Africa, and then I was feeling inspired and bam, next thing you know you have another smutty fic. It’s pure PWP, tbh. Hope you guys don’t mind 😉

Warnings: explicit smut, light Dom/sub, dirty talk, slight degradation kink. It’s all in good fun though, folks.

Honey, I’m Home

Sebastian is feeling jittery; nervous and excited low-key aroused all at once, has been from the moment he opened his eyes that morning. Chris is coming home today. After two long months (two and a half, almost) he’s finally seeing his man in the flesh again, instead of through a screen. Don’t get him wrong; he’s grateful facetime exists, so fucking grateful, but it’s hardly the same as feeling Chris’s skin against his, as breathing in his scent, feeling his heartbeat, steady and comforting, against his chest.

Nor, incidentally, is it the same as getting to suck his perfect dick, which is one of the things, along with getting railed so hard he forgets his own name, he’s had a… hard time going without these past few months.

So yeah, it’s safe to say Sebastian is excited.

He’d wanted to pick Chris up at the airport, too impatient to wait the extra hour it would take for him to make it home from LAX, but since they haven’t gone public as a couple yet, in the end that seemed like a bad idea. So instead, he’s been cooped up at home all day, making sure Chris’s house, to which he has a key, is clean and tidy. He even cooked (or, attempted to cook; he’s never been very culinarily inclined) Chris’s favorite dish, and then spent a good two hours on personal grooming so that he would look and feel his absolute best when his man finally did make it home.

When, at long last, he hears the keys in the front door, his heart starts beating faster, anticipation sending adrenaline coursing through his system. He feels keyed up, ready to pounce as soon as Chris sets foot in the room – and yet, the second the door to the living room opens and Sebastian lays eyes on Chris for the first time in almost three months, his breath catches in his throat and he freezes on the spot, unable to move a muscle.

Chris looks incredible.

The first thing that Sebastian’s eyes are drawn to is Chris’s hair, longer than usual, and lighter too. The sun-kissed strands frame his tanned face, bringing out the strong cut of his jawline, covered, as always, in that goddamn thick beard of his that makes Sebastian crave beard burn in all kinds of inappropriate places. He’s admired it before, of course, through the screen of his phone, but that was nothing compared to the impact this look has in the flesh.

And Chris’s eyes… those gorgeous, blue-green eyes are fixed on him intently, the heated look in them seeming to burn right through the carefully selected layers of clothes Sebastian is wearing. It makes him feel exposed; vulnerable, and so completely, unbearably turned on from one moment to the next that he has to bite his lip to stop from whimpering out loud.

Wordlessly, Chris drops the bag he was still shouldering, takes one, two steps in Sebastian’s direction, eyes firmly fixed on his. When he’s only a few feet away Sebastian realizes, with a sudden, ton-of-bricks kind of impact, why Chris’s presence is hitting him so hard, harder even than he anticipated.

Chris is solid.

Since the last time Sebastian has seen him, he has definitely filled out. But while it looks like he must’ve really enjoyed the local cuisine, he clearly also kept up with his workout routine. Like, really kept up. Mainly heavy lifting, if the way the muscles of his biceps and chest shift under his tight, dark grey t-shirt are anything to go by. Chris has never been a small guy, of course – hell, his incredible physique is one of the things he’s best known for – but where he used to strive for aesthetic form, for perfect definition that made him look like a young, Greek god, now, it’s all power.

He exudes strength, moves like a lion on the prowl, determined and compelling, and Sebastian can’t take his eyes off him.

For a giddy moment, he wonders if Chris could actually bench press him, but then Chris closes the final few feet of distance separating them and they’re face to face and Seb stops thinking altogether. It’s impossible, but Chris seems taller, somehow, like he’s towering over Sebastian, rooting him to the spot just with his gaze and the heat that radiates from his body.

“Hi, baby,” Chris says, his voice deep and dark, and Sebastian feels the vibrations of it all the way down to his core. It makes him shiver. Even that slightest of movements doesn’t escape Chris’s notice, makes that look in his eyes turn that bit more intense as his gaze drops to Sebastian’s mouth, then back up to his eyes again. When Chris lifts a big hand to the side of Sebastian’s face, sliding it into his hair and caressing his cheek with his thumb, Sebastian leans into the touch, sways forward into Chris and presses himself to his front.

God, he’s like a brick wall. Chris doesn’t even budge, even though Seb is pretty much leaning his full weight on him. Sebastian slides his hands up Chris’s abs, less defined now than they were once but all the more robust for it. It’s making something primal inside of Seb want to feel Chris’s solid weight on top of him, holding him down, making sure he stays exactly where Chris wants him.

Chris hums and leans closer, noses at Sebastian’s hair, at his cheek, his neck. It’s almost like he’s sniffing at him, and for a weird and wonderful moment, Seb imagines that Chris is trying to determine if Sebastian’s been good, hasn’t stepped out on him while he was away. He hasn’t, of course, would never – but the thought of Chris wondering, of him feeling jealous, possessive, sets Seb’s skin ablaze, turns his blood to molten lava under his skin.

He tilts his head, baring his neck for Chris’s inspection, and Chris presses his lips to his pulse point. They’re lush as always, soft against his skin, which makes it all the more shocking when he suddenly bites down, sharp and quick. Sebastian’s hands shoot up to Chris’s biceps and he cries out, softly, more from surprise than actual pain – especially since Chris immediately soothes the sting with his tongue, laving over the tender spot until Sebastian can’t hold back the whine that rises up in his throat. Already, he can feel his cock start to chub up inside his jeans, hips stuttering forward of their own accord as he presses his crotch against Chris’s muscled thigh.

Chris’s left hand grips Seb’s hip, fingers digging into his flesh almost painfully, and then finally, finally, his lips drag over Sebastian’s jawline, slow and sure, until they find his.

The kiss is immediately passionate, deep and needy from the get-go, Chris’s tongue plunging into his mouth while his fingers press into his skull, tugging at his roots. A growling sound escapes Chris as he wraps his left arm around Sebastian’s torso, pulling him to closer, making Seb turn to putty in his hands. He can’t think with Chris pressed against him, all around him, his hands, his mouth, his scent, all working together to overwhelm him.

Slowly, Chris walks them backwards, keeping a firm grip on Sebastian so that he doesn’t stumble, until the backs of his thighs hit something hard and unyielding. The kitchen table. The solid contact makes Sebastian’s mind clear a little, allowing him to pull back, breaking the kiss.

“Chris,” he pants, already breathless with it, peppering kisses to his lips in between words. “Chris, I missed you. Missed you so much, god.”

“Yeah?” Chris stands tall and forbidding, simply lets Sebastian shower him in kisses without making any effort to reciprocate. “And what did you miss most, hmm?” he queries, tilting back his head to look down on Seb. “Was it my company? My conversation?”

He holds Sebastian’s gaze, eyes boring into his. “Or,” he goes on, his voice dropping even lower, “did you miss this?”

Reaching down, he grabs Sebastian’s hand and presses it against his crotch, rubbing his palm firmly along the line of his dick, already hard and heavy inside his pants.

Sebastian whimpers, eyes falling closed. “Fuck,” he breathes.

“Go on,” Chris coaxes, rolling his hips into Sebastian’s hand. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

When Sebastian just squirms, trying to push himself closer, a slow smirk spreads over Chris’s face. “But you can’t, can you?” he drawls. “You miss my cock, pretty baby? Tell me, did you play with yourself while I was away? Used your fingers and your toys, pretend it was me?”

Sebastian moans because yes, yes, that was exactly what he’d done.

Chris hums, nods his head in agreement. “Wasn’t the same though, was it, sweetheart? Not quite like the real thing. Couldn’t quite hit the spot like I can.”

Letting go of Sebastian’s hand, Chris deftly flicks open the button on Seb’s pants and pulls down the zipper, before unceremoniously shoving his hands down the back of his jeans. Sebastian, who figured their reunion would go something like this, isn’t wearing any underwear, and Chris groans as soon as he realizes. He grabs Sebastian’s ass cheeks with both hands, kneading them roughly, possessively, before pulling them apart. When he rubs the pad of his thumb over the tight pucker of Seb’s asshole, Seb stutters out a shaky breath, pushing his ass back into Chris’s firm grip, his warm, calloused hands.

“Please,” Sebastian says, imploring. “Please, Chris, I need–”

“What?” Chris demands. “What do you need, Sebastian? Tell me.”

Sebastian has no choice but to obey. “Fuck me,” he chokes out, a little desperate, too wound up to even try at playing it cool. “Just fuck me, Chris, please. Need to feel you inside me, it’s been so fucking long.”

He pushes his face into the crook of Chris’s neck, breathing in his scent – a little musky, a hint of sweat from travelling mixed with what’s left of his cologne, and god, has he missed that smell. Missed it all day, every day, but especially when he was in bed at night, imagining traces of Chris’s scent still lingered on his sheets.

The next moment, Sebastian yelps as Chris spins him around without warning, a hand on the back of his neck pushing him down, bending him down over the kitchen table. He gasps when his cheek presses against the hardwood of the tabletop, and all his blood rushes south in an instant, his dick suddenly so hard it hurts. Fuck.

“Stay there,” Chris orders, giving the back of Seb’s neck a little shake before releasing him.

Sebastian does as he’s told, hands gripping at the table’s edge as he watches Chris walk into his line of sight, towards the kitchen counter. Chris pulls open the third drawer from the top, rummages around for a second before straightening and turning back to Seb. In his hand is the bottle of lube he’d put there the last time they had sex in the kitchen, two nights before Chris left for South Africa.

“Well, well,” Chris says, his voice halfway between amused and a little menacing, causing shivers of anticipation to run down Sebastian’s spine. "And why is this still here, Sebastian?”

When Seb doesn’t reply, just bites his lip as he gazes up at him, Chris steps closer. “What?” he asks. “You just wanna make sure you had it handy for whoever came through that door? Is that how needy you are, Sebastian?” Chris cocks his head at him. “You couldn't even wait for me to come home and fuck you? Had to get what you needed from other people, did you?”

Seb opens his mouth to reply, but Chris shushes him, walking back around to stand behind him again and dropping the lube to the table. Hands tug at Sebastian’s waistband, and then Chris roughly pulls down his jeans to halfway down his thighs, exposing his ass. Without preamble, Chris spreads apart his cheeks, his thumb rubbing maddening little circles over his hole, teasing, making Seb want, before he finally pushes the tip inside. It slides in easily, even without lube – courtesy of Sebastian taking the liberty of preparing himself just a little bit, before Chris arrived.

“Would you look at that,” Chris murmurs, pushing his thumb in deeper. “Still loose from the last one, I bet. Such a needy little hole, ready to be filled by anyone, huh? Don’t care who it is, as long as you get a cock in you.”

Sebastian shakes his head frantically, pleads, “No, no, Chris, it’s just you, only you I promise,” but Chris silences him with a sharp smack to his ass. The sting of it takes Sebastian by surprise and he cries out, rocking forward, trying to get a little friction on his dick from pressing against the table’s edge.

“See, I don’t think I believe you,” Chris continues, almost taunting. “Pretty little slut like you needs it at least twice a day, isn't that right? Needs to be fucked good and proper on the regular or he can’t think straight.” He spanks Sebastian again, on the other cheek this time, and Seb can feel the heat of it, the blood rushing to the surface at the impact.

“Please, Chris, please.”

“Look at you,” Chris breathes, awed despite himself. “You need it so bad, don’t you? Pushing your ass out at me, begging me to fuck you. You’re like a bitch in heat, Sebastian.”

Shit. Chris’s words make Sebastian whine, high in his throat.

They don’t often do this, don’t always take it quite so far with the name calling, but when the mood strikes them, it sometimes just works. From the moment Chris had set foot through that door, Sebastian knew what kind of night it was going to be and he is there for it. He knows that everything Chris says is just for play, only intended to get them both hot and turned on. There is no malicious intent, no genuine distrust or jealousy, but just the suggestion of it is enough to make Sebastian so fucking hard, makes him feel dirty in a good kind of way when Chris calls him out on just how much Sebastian needs a good dicking.

And besides, it’s true. He needs it so bad sometimes it’s all he can think about. It’s a good thing Chris always knows how to give him exactly what he needs, or he wouldn’t know what to do with himself. Then again, he’s pretty sure the reason he needs it so bad is because Chris always gives him what he needs. He’s been spoiled for everyone else, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Well?” Chris prompts, pressing his still clothed erection against Sebastian’s bare ass, fingers digging into either side of his hips. “Do you need it, or don’t you?”

Sebastian’s response is instinctive, immediate. “Yes,” he begs, “yeah, I need it, need your cock, Chris. Please, just – just put it in me.”

Chris shrugs. “Alright, then,” he says, followed by the tell-tale sound of his zipper, the rustle of fabric as he pushes down his pants far enough to take out his cock. “Wouldn’t want to deny my baby boy what he needs.”

A moment later, two big, slicked up fingers probe at Seb’s hole, pushing in unceremoniously. Sebastian gasps as Chris twists his fingers, pushing in deep and rubbing him on the inside. It feels almost clinical, almost as if he’s just determining whether he’s loose enough, and somehow, that only adds to the thrill. When a third finger is pushed in alongside the other two, Sebastian hisses. It stings, but it’s exactly the kind of sting he likes, and he needs more of it. He doesn’t want Chris to go easy on him tonight, he needs to really feel it.

“Fucking come on, Chris. Just give it to me, already,” he says, demanding, earning himself another spank for his back talking.

“I’ll give it to you when I’m good and ready,” Chris chastises him, but he’s already pulling out his fingers, lining up his cock and then pushing into him, hard and unyielding, burying himself balls-deep inside of Seb in one, long stroke.

Unbidden, Sebastian lets out a string of expletives, moaning loud and wanton, the burn intensifying as his hole is stretched around Chris’s considerable girth. Chris spanks him again, then leans forward and brings a hand to his face, shoving a few of his fingers into Sebastian’s mouth, effectively shutting him up.

“You always run your mouth like that?” he demands, knowing full well Seb can’t respond. “You know, I can think of a better use of that pretty mouth, baby. But since my cock’s already in your tight little ass right now, you’re just going to have to make do with these.”

Sebastian moans around Chris’s fingers, tonguing them, sucking hard and fervently wishing it was Chris’s dick instead. When Chris starts thrusting, hard and deep and merciless, Seb’s mouth falls open in a broken-off moan, fingers falling from his mouth. Chris pulls back his hand, straightening up and grabbing Seb’s hips again instead, holding him steady as he starts to pound into him. Sebastian pushes himself up onto his elbows on the table top, planting his feet more firmly on the ground so that he has a little more leverage against Chris’s full-body assault and pushes back against him, desperate to feel him deeper.

Immediately, Chris pushes him back down with a hand between his shoulder blades, the warmth of his palm burning through Seb’s thin shirt. He’s ungentle about it, holding him down forcefully, and Sebastian pushes back, struggling just enough to see how Chris will react. Under his breath, Chris calls him a brat before he shoves him down again, even more roughly this time, really bearing his weight down on him as his hips keep snapping forward. Sebastian hears himself make an embarrassing, involuntary sound in the back of his throat, but god, he fucking loves the feeling of not being able to move unless Chris lets him. Loves knowing that Chris is capable of holding him down easily, making him take it like he’s doing right now.

Chris rucks up Sebastian’s t-shirt, bunching it up under his armpits to expose his bare back. For a moment, Seb gets to revel in the cooler air that hits his overheated skin, and then Chris firmly runs both his hands up and down his back, from his shoulder blades all the way down to the swell of his ass. He digs his fingers in, giving the firm flesh a squeeze before pulling his cheeks apart as he keeps on fucking into him, setting a punishing rhythm. By now, the burn has given way to that feeling of fullness that Sebastian craves so much, and for the first time in months, he feels like he’s whole again, like his missing piece has been slotted back into place and everything is going to be alright. Chris will take care of him, will always have his back – quite literally, in this case.

Nevertheless, Sebastian wouldn’t be Sebastian if he didn’t try to push for more. Chris would expect nothing less from him.

“Harder,” he pants. “C’mon, give it to me harder.” Just like he expected, Chris spanks him again for his impertinence, and despite the fact that his ass is on fire, Seb is elated.

“Please,” he tries, entreating now. “Please, Chris.”

“God, you’re a greedy boy, aren’t you?” Chris growls, bending over him to whisper his next words directly into his ear. “Nothing’s ever enough for a dirty little whore like you.”

Sebastian moans, eyes rolling back into his skull, while Chris buries a hand in his hair and pulls. Automatically, Seb arches up, trying to alleviate the sting, but with Chris’s other hand firmly pushing down on his ass, still, there’s not much he can do. Then, Chris changes the angle of his thrusts just a little bit and suddenly Sebastian is seeing stars, white-hot bursts of pleasure radiating out from his loins through his entire body.

He shouts, and when Chris punches forward and nails Sebastian’s prostate once again, Seb realizes he’s done for. Chris is like a pitbull when he gets like this; when he sets his sights on something, relentlessly pursuing his goal and not giving up until he gets what he wants. And what he wants right now, Sebastian knows, is for Seb to come untouched – just from Chris’s perfect dick in his ass, hitting the spot over and over again until he breaks. It doesn’t happen often, but when it does, it’s fucking special. Chris adores it, loves that he can make his baby boy come just by dicking him down so good. It’s a primal thing, Sebastian’s pretty sure.

Still, it’s intense, and when the pleasure that swells up inside him starts getting almost too much to bear, keeping him on the brink without the easy release brought about by a hand or a mouth, Sebastian needs to come so badly that he tries to snake a hand between his stomach and the table top, inching towards his own dick.

He should’ve known that Chris was never going to let him.

“I don’t think so, sweetheart,” Chris says in a rough voice, yanking Seb’s hand back up and grabbing his other one as well for good measure, keeping Sebastian’s wrists locked behind his back in one large hand of his own. The scratch of the fabric of Chris’s jeans against Seb’s bare ass, sore from the spanking he received, stings every time Chris thrusts into him – but really, the pain just serves to make the pleasure that much more intense, balancing him on the knife’s edge of just enough and too much.

Chris is really laying into him now, using all of that incredible, weight-honed core strength of his to fuck Sebastian the way he craves to be fucked, and Sebastian starts to whimper, needing to come so badly he can taste it in his mouth. He just needs that little bit more…

As if he can read his mind, Chris pushes a hand up Seb’s spine, skating over the back of his neck before sliding it around his throat, and, oh fuck.

Slowly, deliberately, Chris’s fingers tighten, pressing down lightly on his windpipe, and Sebastian keens. “More,” he rasps, and Chris obliges, pressing down harder, virtually cutting off Seb’s air supply while his thumb digs into his pulse point.

With a choked-off cry, Sebastian goes tense all over, mind whiting out from the combination of struggling for air and Chris slamming into his prostate relentlessly, and then he’s coming, coming so hard the world disappears around him, knowing nothing but the mind-blowing pleasure that consumes him, wave after wave of it as Chris fucks him through his orgasm, in pursuit of his own. It doesn’t take long, with Seb clenching around his dick like a vice, until Chris is groaning, burying himself inside Sebastian one last time before stilling, filling him up with his release.

Even with his stamina, it takes Chris a little while to recover. In the silence that follows their climax, Sebastian can feel him pressed against his back, heart racing and breathing hard. Seb doesn’t mind – on the contrary. He can’t think of anywhere he’d rather be than draped over Chris’s kitchen table, with Chris inside and on top of him, his solid weight a comforting presence, assuring him that he’s really back, really here to stay – at least for a little while.

Chris stirs eventually, brings up a hand and buries it in Seb's hair again. Tugging lightly, he pulls his head around so he can kiss him over his shoulder. It's an inelegant angle, meaning they mostly end up licking into each other’s mouths without finesse, and Chris’s hair falls into his eyes, tickling the bridge of his nose. Sebastian’s not complaining though; he’s just so fucking glad to taste Chris again. He moans in relief as Chris scrapes his fingers gently over his scalp, massaging out the tenderness caused by the earlier hair pulling.

Chris finally pulls back, quickly reaching for a cloth on the side of the counter to wipe Sebastian clean. Once he’s helped Sebastian up, he spins him around in his arms, gazing down at him. There’s pure adoration on his features, and Seb lifts up a hand to Chris’s forehead to brush aside a strand of his hair, longer now than his own. It’s a strange sensation, but he kind of likes it.

“Welcome home, honey," Seb murmurs, still sounding a little dazed. They look at each other for a few moments – until Chris suddenly lets out a half-snort. There’s a beat of silence, and then Sebastian’s eyes widen, right before he dissolves into giggles. Within seconds, they’re both laughing so hard they collapse, half naked and filthy, on the kitchen floor together, all tangled up in each other. It’s ridiculous, and it’s the happiest, freest Sebastian can remember feeling in a long while.

When they’ve finally calmed down a bit, Chris sits up, resting his back against a table leg, with Sebastian curled up between his thighs. Seb leans into his wide, sturdy chest, and Chris wraps his arms around him, burying his nose in Seb’s hair, breathing in deeply.

“I missed you too, baby,” he says, belatedly, his voice warm and soft and loving now that they’ve gotten their basest instincts somewhat under control.

Seb smiles against Chris’s collarbone. “I kind of figured that.”

“Damn. What gave me away?” Chris asks, straight-faced, and Sebastian dissolve into giggles once more.

Man, it’s good to be home.

#my fic #evanstan #chris evans x sebastian stan #smut #established relationship #red sea diving resort #chris evans #sebastian stan #ao3

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moveslikebuckywrites · 4 years

Link

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Slow Show - mia_ugly Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Erasmus (Warlock)/William (Warlock) Characters: Erasmus (Warlock), William (Warlock), Julia Chattox Additional Tags: Stuck in a confessional, what will the priest repress??, Slow Show - mia_ugly - Freeform, Warlock (TV)

So anyone else feeling various kinds of ways about @mia-ugly‘s Slow Show? And specifically about the TV show Warlock that’s in it? Y’all can blame the WPH Discord for this one xD Gonna tag @averyfell too since that’s the main fanblog ---

The old oak doors of the church slam open as the two men run inside.

“This is a fine mess you’ve gotten us into, priessst, ” Erasmus hisses as they enter the church, dripping wet from the rain outside.

“And how was I supposed to know they’d spot us?” William says, storming in after him, “We can’t just go without supplies!”

William rolls his eyes as Erasmus parrots him mockingly. It had been the priest’s idea, after all. They were extremely short on food and, though they tended to avoid the smaller villages (it was easier to hide in the bigger crowds of the large towns), William had assumed they'd be fine.

They were spotted, of course, by the inquisitorial guard. They tried to run, disappearing into the woods near the village, but the guards had given chase. Loud, clanking footfalls chasing them through the trees.

Erasmus knew the woods better than the soldiers had, and he knew of somewhere they might hide. An abandoned church nestled in among the oaks and pines, ceiling caving in but still standing. Somewhere they could hopefully hide out.

“We should have waited , safety in numbers, all that nonsense,” Erasmus says as he wrings out his hair, “now we’ll be lucky to make it back to spell-girl and the boy before morning!”

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous, Erasmus,” William says with a huff, “we wouldn’t have made it to the next –“

William is cut off suddenly as Erasmus crowds him against a stone wall, throwing a hand over the priest’s mouth.

“ Shut it, ” he whispers, “d’you hear that?”

William can hardly hear anything over the blood rushing to his ears, but he’s grateful Erasmus’s eyes are focused elsewhere, maybe he won’t notice the priest staring at his lips. He shakes himself out of it and listens, and sure enough, the almost imperceptible shifting of metal. Soldiers well versed in their armor and weapons sneaking towards the church. The guard has caught up.

“We have to hide,” Erasmsus says, removing his hand and with it the air rushes out of William’s lungs. “Gotta be somewhere in here.”

William looks over Erasmus’s shoulder, sees the little booth still standing near the pulpit.

“It would be a tight fit,” the priest swallows hard, worried about the close confines, “but the confessional is still intact.”

“No time to worry about that now,” Erasmus says, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him towards the tiny space, “they’ll be on us any second.”

They crowd into the tiny box, even tinier than the ones at the newer, statelier churches. Erasmus pushes him to the bench as he closes the door behind them, and this is decidedly not a position William thought he’d be in today. Frankly, he’s not sure his heart can take it.

There’s barely space for the two of them in the booth, and Erasmus is forced to stand with his knee braced on the bench between William’s thighs. He looks anywhere but Erasmus’s face, terrified of what he might find there. And isn’t that silly? They’re friends, of course they are! This is nothing, it’s just two friends hiding from the inquisitorial guard in a tiny box that’s barely big enough for them. Nothing weird about that at all.

Nothing weird about how the only thing he can think about is the point of contact between his thigh and Erasmus’s knee. He’s hyper-aware of it in a way he’s never been aware of anything before. His only solace in this is that it’s dark enough Erasmus can’t see the dusting of red that he knows is coming across his cheeks. Or his neck. Or his ears. He feels dreadfully warm all of the sudden.

William risks a look at him, expecting judgement or terror or…well…he’s not exactly sure what he’s expecting. But Erasmus isn’t even looking at him; he’s on high alert, listening to the guards draw closer. William has never told Erasmus how much he appreciates the man’s survival skills; he and the rest of them would’ve been dead several times over without him. But it’s hard to think about things like that when Erasmus’s hand is pinned to the wall behind him and his arm so close it would be nothing to lean into it.

Oh, Lord forgive me, he thinks darting his eyes quickly upwards.

“Erasmus…um,” he starts, feeling like something should be said to break the awkwardness in this moment. He’s stopped by a long and spindly finger against his lips.

“Shh…,” Erasmus says, tilting his head toward the door. William hears the door creak open, here’s the scraping metal of the armor as the guardsmen move through the church. The flicker from their torches seeping in through the cutouts in the confessional booth.

The firelight flickers in Erasmus’s eyes, making them look like molten amber. William could get lost, if he’s not careful, in eyes like that. Like tarnished gold; still beautiful and gleaming despite everything they’ve been through. He stays quiet, but Erasmus doesn’t move his finger. William could swear he sees something flicker in those eyes. Something he’s been seeing for far too long in his own, when he has the luxury of a mirror or when he catches himself in the reflection of water. It’s a need. A want. A longing.

The footsteps draw closer, the light through the cutouts grows brighter. There’s a hand on the doorknob of the box, William braces himself. They’ll be discovered and it’s all over.

“Hey!” one of the guards shouts from the doorway, and the knob rotates back to its original position, “We found some tracks heading north! Boss wants us to follow those!”

“Right then, on with it,” the guard directly outside the confessional says as they hear his footsteps walking away. Slowly, the firelight filters back out of the church as they leave, shrouding the two men in darkness once again.

William doesn’t move. Neither does Erasmus. His knee is still firmly planted on the bench; arm still braced against the back wall behind William’s head. His finger still lays gently against William’s lips.

Their faces are so close together. William can smell the rain on his skin, along with the fire-ash that seems to follow wherever Erasmus goes. In these close quarters, their breath mingles in the air, heavy with humidity from the rain.

His breath kindles coals, William thinks, blasphemy be damned, and a flame goes forth from his mouth.

Erasmus smiles, a slow creeping thing spreading across his face, lighting it up like a sunrise.

“We did it,” he whispers, and William feels it more than hears it, “They’re gone.” Erasmus heaves a great sigh of relief and William does, too. Erasmus moves his finger and before William can be sad for the loss of contact, he drops his head and now, oh no, now their foreheads are touching.

William breathes in sharply at the contact, at the proximity, at everything. Neither of them moves. There’s fear in Erasmus’s eyes William can see even in the dark.

“We should…probably get moving,” William stammers out, making no move to draw back, “they’ll find out we didn’t go that way soon enough, and they’ll be back.”

“Yeah,” Erasmus says, softer than William has ever heard him speak, “yeah, we probably should.” His eyes search William’s, looking for something neither of them can put to words yet. William watches his face shift from fear to what looks like curiosity, and Erasmus moves his knee ever so slightly against his thigh.

The whimper that comes out of William is completely out of his control, Erasmus’s face breaks back into that crooked grin.

“What’s that about, priest?” he hisses like before, but there’s no bite to it this time. All William can do is stare into his eyes, still in such close proximity. Erasmus drops his arm from the back wall entirely, bringing it around William’s neck, “don’t tell me you’re enjoying this?”

“Don’t,” William snaps, not wanting to confront whatever is happening, “Don’t…just don’t…”

“Sorry, must’ve misread that,” Erasmus says, reaching for the door handle and breaking the connection between their foreheads, unlooping his arm from William’s neck. And that just won’t do. William’s hand reaches out to catch him by the collar, pulling him back.

“Let me finish, dear,” William says with more conviction than he’s had about anything in a long time, “Don’t do this if it doesn’t mean anything.”

Erasmus looks into his eyes, searching for something. Searching for truth. Here in this confessional booth no one can see them, no one would know. They could have this, this one moment in time. All he has to do is reach out and take it. His arm comes back around, hand resting in William’s soft curls and he leans back in and crowds him against the wall of the confessional booth.

Lead me not into temptation, William thinks as he winds his own arms around Erasmus’s back, closing this chasm that’s been separating them for what feels like ages.

He closes his eyes and waits for that precious brushing of lips, but it never comes.

The door is flung open and almost off its hinges. The two men jump apart, face to face with Julia.

“Are you two done? ” She asks angrily, “The fake tracks I laid won’t throw them off for long, we’ve got to get out of here!”

The two spare a passing glance at each other, moment lost and more than likely to be forgotten, before following Julia out of the church and collecting Joshua from his hiding place.

For the best, really. No time for dalliance when you’re on the run. He’d almost broken, and over what? Some close quarters and some dancing firelight.

William sighs to himself, more than a little disappointed, if he’s honest. He’d almost slipped up; he’ll have to be more careful. These feelings, whatever they are, aren’t his to have.

He’ll just have to push them down harder.

#my fic #slow show #razzywill #but also #good omens #to a point #but where is that point at this point?

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cum-a-calla · 5 years

Text

a commission :)

inside: Bob Gray/female reader, humiliation, piss, mindfuck, denial, general clownery

It’s hard to judge just how long you’ve been in the cage.

On top, there are two heavy boots, legs crossed at the ankle. The bars of the cage tremble and clink, chains around the door shimmying like bells. The sound joins his uneven breath, it joins the metallic rattling and your own blood rushing in your ears, and the sight of him petting the ridiculous bulge in his slacks while he squirms. He’s slack-jawed, drooling, eyes heavy and focused, unfocused, focused again.

There are empty seats and risers in a semi-circle around you, rusted with age. You can practically hear the creaking despite the lack of an audience. In your head, it sounds hollow, warped, just the thought of it creepy enough to make you shudder. Goosebumps ripple down your arms, over your ribs and thighs.

“Wish there were people in here, little creature?”

He grins and saliva dribbles down his chin. Around you is aching, echoing emptiness, like a vacuum. Sounds within the tent are magnified, caught in the low, insectile buzz in the background, and focusing on it only forces it to retreat. Hiding. Chittering. Beyond the ragged flaps of the entrance, wind whips banners and flags around, shakes the trees in the distance and sends leaves and carnival garbage whirling around the midway. Not a sound penetrates the perimeter of the tent. It’s like watching a movie on mute, the world moving on behind some invisible barrier. You’re isolated here.

Trapped.

The cage is small. It’s barely big enough for you to be on your hands and knees, naked, shivering under his constant watch. Between your thighs, your pulse makes itself known. Each throb brings you a little closer to release, but it’s a race to see which releases first – your dripping cunt or your full, tight bladder, feeling fuller every passing minute.

“No,” you breathe. The thought of anyone seeing you like this, locked up and trembling with your bare ass in the air, is beyond anything you could handle. You peek at the risers and they shimmer. They seem to slip in and out of focus, and in the weird blur, there are shapes. People. Loads of them, faces smeared and unclear, blipping in and out like a glitch.

Glancing at Bob Gray treats you to the sight of his big hands around his cock, leaking down around his knuckles. He’s sneering down at you, tugging leisurely at himself while you flicker between him and the spectral audience, and it seems that with each passing glance, they disappear and reappear, refusing to conform to your perception of the room around you. It’s scary. The people don’t really look like people, only like they’re trying to.

Like Bob. Bob, with his wet snarl, his sleepy eyes and sharp teeth. His eyes glimmer at you, snapping orange like a wildfire. He lifts his boots off the cage and spreads his thighs, pumping his cock with a little more purpose. He swipes his fingers up over the slippery head and shudders, giggling, his soft belly peeking from under his untucked shirt. It’s nearly threadbare with age.

“Can see ya shakin.” He sucks his teeth, mocking you with a violent shiver that shakes his massive frame. “Ooh, tiny thing, can see how bad you want it. Stupid little pet. Does it hurt? Does it feel sooo bad to hold... it... in?”

Eyes on the floor. It’s all you can focus on aside from the burning ache. The more it aches, the worse it gets. The worse it gets, the more you throb.

“Can I... please... go to the bathroom?”

He shakes his head, a thread of drool breaking off to patter into the dirt near his feet. He’s swollen, dripping just like you are. He moans and shakes his head harder, the laughter bubbling up from deep in his chest.

“No, no, I want you to hold it. Be a good girl, hm? Don’t make a big fuckin’ mess in my tent, you hear? Do ya kennit, little animal, does it do ya well?”

“Please, I really – it... hurts –”

He stands so suddenly that his chair topples behind him, and he towers over the cage like you’re the smallest thing in the world. He’s enormous. He takes the step until his big boots are toeing the edge of the cage, knocking into the thin bars, and not once does he stop touching his cock. He bends low and watches you, looks at you from every angle. His saliva drips down onto your back. It’s warm, unbearably so as it slides down the curve of your ribcage to your belly. He reaches into the cage, shoves his hand between your legs.

There, he rubs at your clit. It’s sloppy and quick, less about teasing and more about piling on the pressure. It’s searing. It feels like a molten ball in your belly, twisting, pressing down, down, down against your bladder, each contraction deep in your cunt only dragging your misery to the surface. It’s getting harder to ignore, harder to push down below.

“Does it hurt so, so bad? Is this old man huuurting you?”

“Ohmygodohmygod...”

Bucking your hips away is impossible. You can only fall back against his fingers, and the more you worm away from him, the more he giggles. The more he strays from your clit, teasing you where you can’t have him. Not now. Not with all that bright pain inside, ready to burst, and yet here he is, cooing at you with his fingers sliding inside.

“No gods here. Not even close. Nothing but me, nothing but your slimy little cunt. You smell so good, too... come out, tiny thing. Come on out. Let. Me. Smell. You.”

“No, I can’t, I can’t!” Your voice draws high, so whiny and pathetic that it doesn’t take looking him in the face to know that he’s enjoying it. His smirk shapes his words, spits them at you like his fucking drool. They float through the air like a miasma, circling your mind, like moths. Smell you let me smell you come out tiny thing come out you scared does it hurt does it hurt doesitHURT

“Oh.” He moans the word, like it rumbles up from his body, and his breath flutters through your hair. Sweat prickles at your hairline, and the first drip travels down over your temple. He takes the cage in both hands, so many slippery fingers, and takes a steadying breath. You can’t look away from him, crouched over the cage with his heavy cock out, with his big hands gripping the enclosure like he means to twist the metal. He glares down at you with a smile on his face. “Oooh, you can’t? But this... is the circus. Anything can happen here.”

He takes his hands, pounds his fists on the top of the cage. It rattles around you and you jump, yelping, and after all, you do feel like a dumb animal. He pounds them again, again, and all you can do is freeze up. Your bladder burns. Your cunt aches.

“Anything! Let me show you.”

With each strike, he grunts, and those melt off into laughter as he starts to count down with each smack of his big hands, slamming against the metal until they scrape open, the meat of his palms tearing and bleeding freely. SIX. FIVE. FOURRRR, THHRREEEEEEE, TWWOOOO.....

“ONE!”

A final, heavy slam of his fists and the cage is gone.

He stops just short of your back, hands coming to a complete halt as you brace for impact, and then his red, shredded palms lay flat against you. His blood feels scalding. The cage is just gone, absent from the tent entirely. You look around, frantic, looking up, looking at him, but there’s nothing to see. Nothing but his broad shoulders, his knowing smirk.

“What do you think?” He winks at you, slow, like you’re sharing a secret.

“It’s - that’s... where did it... go?”

“Gone the way of many other things in my time, filthy thing. Don’t worry about that. It’s been taken care of, and now you should be.”

There’s no grace to the way he yanks you by the hips, no thought to how you fight a losing fight, barely squirming out of reach when he pulls you flush against him. He grabs handfuls of your ass, spreads you open, grinds his cock up against every inch of you.

“Gunna fuck you full, fuller than you could imagine. Isn’t that nice? Don’t act like you don’t want it. I know. I know you do, even though you need to go oh so bad.”

He dissolves into a fit of manic laughter and it bounces off the walls of the tent. Beyond them, the world still moves. The storm has picked up, but none of that is perceptible in here, nothing except the snatches of midway as the flap waves in the wind. Sometimes there are people walking in the distance, and sometimes there are people close by, people that barely resemble people. Watching. Smiling, pointing.

His cock is massive as he is, but with how utterly soaked your cunt is, he forces it inside with little issue. It’s mind-numbing how good it is, how he’s right – you are full, so blissfully full, every inch of his cock spreading you open and finding nerves you barely know of. He tilts his hips and pounds into you, like he’s going to fuck through to your guts and into your bladder. It’s too much. It’s way too much pressure, and the first warning pangs of loss of control are flooding your nervous system, face burning with the effort, voice drawn so high and sharp you could cut him with it.

“I can’t I can’t I can’t, I’m gunna – please – oh my god PLEASE let me go,” you sputter. Words leave in no specific order, rushed, clear only in their desperation.

He pulls you closer.

“Hold it,” he demands. He doesn’t let up. It’s a strange sensation that travels all the way down to your feet, like hot wire, and you start crying. He leans over your body and folds over you until he can grab your face, tilt it toward him. He licks your tears off your face and laughs, breath like smoke, like old meat and dead leaves and something else, something familiar. He’s inescapable. “Aren’t you a big girl? Can’t hold it for me, baby, can’t be a big girl? Don’t wet yourself! Don’t have an aaaaccident all over Daaaddy!”

He laughs and your body betrays you. It’s inevitable. He slows his hips after the initial break in concentration, the warm dribble in the dust, and then he’s howling as you piss yourself. His cock throbs, balls-deep, holding you as tight against his body as he can manage as it wets through his slacks and over his thighs, puddles below the two of you. You hang your head with your eyes squeezed shut, trying to ignore the orgasmic rush of release, like a climax of its very own. It feels good. It feels so good.

“Filthy fucking creature. Nasty slut. Disobedient little thing, aren’t you?”

Bladder relieved, the reality of your situation caves in around you. Fuck. You stammer apologies, over and over and over, shaking with them, coming apart underneath his stilled form. He still has his fingers buried in your flesh. He squeezes them and you moan, and his cock throbs.

“You’re sorry. You’re sooo sorry. Oh, tell me, tell me how goddamn sorry you are.”

As you continue gushing your apologies, there’s a tickle in the back of your throat. Coughing takes it away for a moment, but it comes back, an itch unlike anything you’ve experienced before. Coughing turns into gagging, into hacking over the floor until you’re the one drooling, dry-heaving, shaking in the dirt with piss down your legs and a cunt full of him, and.... something... touching the back of your tongue. Something in your throat. There’s something in your fucking throat, rising up, and Bob sticks his fingers in your mouth.

He reaches back, stuffs his long fingers back there until he grabs it and PULLS. He drags the thing over your tongue and out from your throat like he’s doing an act, and half of you expects to see multicolored scarves when your vision stabilizes, when you’re not stuck behind a screen of tears as you try not to vomit on his hand. An eternal, painful moment later, he shows you.

He’s holding a crop. An entire crop, wet and slippery with your saliva, your mucus.

“You ready to be so, so sorry?”

He lands the crop on your back. It stings and pulls you back to life, and his hips start moving again. There’s no rhythm to lead into; he fucks you open until you’re moaning and crying and begging, throwing nonsense words into the hot, muggy atmosphere of the tent. You can smell your own piss, his breath on the back of your neck. He rains blows down with the crop and each stings more than the last, forcing your tired throat to shriek, to yelp, to make all manner of embarrassing sounds under his ministrations. He rolls his hips like he knows your flesh from the inside, knows exactly where to nudge, how to adjust his vicious pace.

“I can feel that nasty cunt tightening up on my cock. You gunna cum soon? Would you like that, to cum all over Bob Gray’s big, mean dick? Want Daddy to let you have it?”

“Yes.” It’s the most honest, most coherent word you’ve spoken, clear as a bell, slicing up through his frenzied breaths and grunts. He giggles and hums, hits you over and over in the same spot with the crop. Your back glows with it, marks up and down your spine, blooming, warping your flesh into a purpled, welted landscape.

“That’s too bad, because if you disobey me and cum without permission, I’ll do more than beat you. I’ll take this pretty skin right off, see what’s underneath. Oh, yes, I will. I’ll see what you’re really made of. You’ll see just how messy and disgusting I can make you. So... don’t... cum.”

He rubs your clit, giggling, knocking your weak hands away when you reach down to grab at him, to twist away. There’s no escaping. There never was, not at any point. Beyond the flapping tent, everything is now still. Birds hang midair, people mid-walk, and everything is staring through the frozen tent-flap. The people aren’t people. Things watch you with their unchanging non-faces, expressions beyond what you can really understand as human. Terror grows inside you like ice, turning your blood cold, and yet Bob Gray ruts into you all the same and plays with your clit until you’re fighting a different kind of pressure than before.

"Better not cum, little thing, you better fucking not cum."

Finally, his movements become erratic, his hand stalling. He throws the crop and wraps his arms around your waist, down by your hips, and squeezes. He holds you in that vice-grip and it’s almost more painful than the crop wounds, crushing against your pelvis, against your hipbones as he bottoms out with each thrust. It feels like you may come apart in his arms, and that delicious knot of heat gets tighter and tighter and tighter and he’s beating you to the punch.

His cock seems to expand, filling any last inch of flesh he can manage before he’s moaning, growling in your ear. Cum fills your cunt, shoots so deep you can’t stand it. Wriggling against him only milks him further. He rocks and rides out his climax while you whine.

After he’s done with you, he pulls out, shoving you by the hip so that you fall over in the dirt. Urine soaks your legs. His cum drools out of your cunt and he leans down to peer at it, to spread it open so he can watch, fingers tracing as you throb with neglect. He swipes at your clit and you shudder.

“Good girl. In the end, you all listen. You all want to be good, at the end of it.”

He stands up and fixes himself up, wipes his chin free of his spit, watches you catching your breath. He bends to pick up a pile of your clothing and he tosses the articles at your face, cruel laughter spilling from his lips as you peel them back and attempt to sit up. Your body aches. Everything hurts, everything wants.

“Get the fuck out of my tent and clean yourself up.”

You pull your shirt back over your head, and... he’s gone.

The tent is empty.

There’s barely a swirl in the dust, no footprints, just your own piss and clothes and your filthy legs, just his cum dripping down your thighs and smearing there. Beyond the tent flaps, the storm is over. There’s barely a cloud in the sky, just the deepening evening, the sunset. It’s bright orange. It bleeds over the landscape and casts the windless trees in an eerie light. Birds chitter and games go off deeper in the midway, and it’s like your ears are unblocked. It feels... normal.

You pull your clothes on and go around to grab a bucket – before you leave for the night, you’ll have to wash away the... spot. Seeing it there sets your cheeks aflame all over again, feeling the sticky dirt on your legs.

Just outside of the tent is the bucket, a single red balloon lifting the handle.

#n sfw #commission #bob gray x reader #bob gray/reader #nnnaaaasssty #nasty old bitch #thank you so much for the commission!!!#god i love bob i hope i did it justice for you

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shadedrose01 · 4 years

Text

Young God

Relationships: Harley Keener/Peter Parker

Tags: idek how to tag this one, uhh, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, kind of?, more like, Enemies to Lovers, Enemies with benefits?, Rivalry, Rivals with benefits?, Its hard to explain aodjsk, Harley Keener as Iron Lad, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Needs a Break, Peter Parker Has a Bad Day, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, Nothing shown tho, Fluff and Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, parkner week 2020, Day 2, Arguing

Prompts: “And i said ‘no,’ you know, like a liar” / identity shenanigans / iron lad

Notes: Day 2, everybody! Hope you enjoy! 💞💞

Read on ao3 Here!

He says "oo, baby girl, you know we're gonna be legends,

I'm the king and you're the queen, and we will stumble through heaven,"

Peter sucks in a quick breath just before he crashes onto the rooftop, sliding across the sandpaper like tiles and feeling as it rips up his suit, the backs of his arms and legs, his hands as he claws and slows himself down until he finally stops, just at the edge of the house.

He stays still for a second, pants as he hears the mechanical whirrs and clicks of the robotic arms coming closer and closer to him, before he feels his hair stand up, and jumps backwards off of one rooftop to the other, just as Doc Ock crashes through the house below him, leaving only destruction in his wake. Peter listens sharply, for a scream or a cry but hears nothing, and feels a wave of relief knowing the family must not of been home, before its quickly wiped away as he instinctive jumps out of the way again, a claw crunching the stone he was stood on just moments before.

"Come on, Spider-Man," the man taunts, his bluish purple goggles gleaming in the setting sunlight. "Stop running away, and fight!"

Another claw, and another jump, except this time, Peter bounces off of the next rooftop he lands on, circling around and kicking the man right in the jawbone. "You asked for it!" He spits out as the kick throws him back, off kilter for a second, a moment that Peter tries to take to get out of distance again, out of range, but he's too slow, a third claw reaching for him, about to grab him-

Before its blasted to pieces by a bright purple light, and Peter cant help but to stifle the annoyed sigh that threatens to escape, the simmering anger that's been inside him all day starting to boil, to bubble up as he hears the familiar, way way too familiar Southern drawl call out, in all its mocking glory, "Hey squid boy, watch where you're throwing those things, someone could get hurt!"

Peter lands onto the brick wall, sticking into place and turns just to see Doc let out an irritated yell, and lunge for the bright red and gray suit, purple lights attached like lazor pointers to a cat, an easy target that never seems to faze the man no matter how many times Peter told him to tone them down. For once, Peter understands Docs anger, annoyance, as the suit weaves through his claws and shoots them apart with ease, laughing and mocking him the entire time. It makes his insides twist, and his blood boil, his heart racing and his teeth gritting together.

Peter throws himself off the wall just in time to kick Doc to the ground, all of his claws and weapons destroyed, and an affronted, almost insulted noise comes from the robotic suit flying beside him. "You can't just come in and steal the kill, that's not cool, dude!"

Peter doesn't even spare him a glance, webbing the villians hand, feet and then body to the ground. "What, like you did?"

"I did not," The robotizied voice cries out, like a child. "I was just helping you out, Spidey! You should be thanking me!"

Now, Peter can hear the smug grin on the man's face, and this time he can't help the bitter sigh that escapes, as he turns to send a heated glare. "Fuck off, Iron Lad."

He can practically see his eyebrows raise, even through the emotionless mask and the man laughs, loudly, his voice higher pitched with pure amusement as he says, "Oh ho ho, Man! What's got you in a piss poor mood, huh? Having a bad Spidey day, Spider-Man?"

Peter's nostrils flare, and he has to physically hold back the words that long to spill from his mouth, tasting bitter on his tongue, flames licking at his lungs. "Police?" He asks instead, glancing away to glare at the stones below him, his hands clenched hard into fists.

"On the way, eta maaybe two minutes?"

"Then let's go." Peter doesn't wait for an answer, shooting a web off into the distance and yanking himself away, huffing out a breath when he hears the very clear, "Sir, yes sir!" And the echo of replusors sound from behind him, following him like they always do.

"If there's a light at the end, it's just the sun in your eyes,

I know you wanna go to heaven but you're human tonight,"

Peter swings for a while, trying to ignore, pretend that the metallic sounds of blasters aren't following him, hoping that eventually, the man, that Harley would get the hint and leave him the fuck alone today, but after a while, he realizes that won't happen and lands on the top of a building, crashing to the ground a little rougher than necessary, feeling his bubbling anger, annoyance rising higher and higher in his chest.

"Finally," The suit groans out, landing right beside Peter on the rooftop before flailing his arms out dramatically. "I thought you were never gonna stop, jeez."

"I'm on patrol." Peter growls out, going to the edge of the rooftop to look down and focus his hearing, to make sure he doesn't miss any moments, any crime that he needs to stop, almost wishing, itching that there was some so he could get away from the man encased in metal. He doesn't know why his presence is bugging him so much today- he's normally annoying, sure but not this much, never this bad- but it is and Peter just longs to get away (even as a part of him begs to get closer).

The man just huffs, his neon purple eyes seeming stare into Peter's soul incredulously. "Thats never stopped you before." When Peter just ignores him, the man takes a step forward and his helmet retracts, the face of the one and only Harley Stark- son to Tony Stark, heir to Stark industeies and the main pain in Peters ass for the last eight months- scrunched up with a weird mix of childish annoyance and worry that makes him look constipated. "Seriously, Spidey. What's going on? Are you okay?"

The real concern that slips into the mans tone makes Peter's insides twist, but he ignores it as he spits out, "Why do you care? Thought you only cared about yourself?"

Its intentionally rude, and he knows it hits its mark when a pang of hurt runs across Harley's features before it disappears back into a blank slate so similar to the one his father wears for the same reason, to hide the pain. "You know that's not true." Even his voice has gone back to painfully neutral, and any satisfaction Peter anticipated to feel is overwhelmed by a sickening guilt that poisons him from the inside out, twists his stomach and makes him feel nauseous.

He should apologize, he knows, but he's still- he still feels the burning, the fire under his skin, in his bloodstream, charring his lungs, molten lava in his veins, and he can't stop the sour words from slipping past his lips, with a faint mocking laugh. "Do I?"

"I thought you did." He mutters, his usually bright, summer day skies eyes darkening as a storm cloud passes by, rumbling with a thunder that makes Peter's heart thump heavily in his chest. "I know you do. I know you don't really like me, I get that, but you normally aren't this much of a dick about it. This isn't you."

Peter just laughs again, bitter and twisted and wrong sounding, even to himself. "You don't know me. You don't know anything about me."

He says, "oo baby girl, don't get caught on my edges,

I'm the king of everything, you know my tongue is a weapon,"

Harley's eyes just narrow more, his jaw clenching, and Peter can see his words are started to get to him, his fingers twitching and his shoulders raising. Good. "I think I know more about you than you think."

"Do you?" Peter snorts, shaking his head in exasperation as he glances over to the man, glaring, the fire burning brighter, flames licking at his throat. "Say, what do you know about me?"

"I know your kind," He starts, scowling, counting on his fingers as if Peter is a child that he's lecuring. "I know you're considerate. I know you put everyone else before yourself, because you think somehow, subconsciously that your life is worth less than others. I know you feel guilty for something that happened in the past, and try to better yourself because of it. I know you care, much more than you let on." Peter snorts, trying to ignore the emotions and raw feelings bubbling in his throat, and Harley just continues, ignoring it. "I may not know your name, or your face, or your- your identity but I know you, Spidey. And this," He makes a waving motion at Peter's body, "whatever this is, it isn't you. So Explain. What's going on?"

He's almost pleading, now, begging for Peter to tell him and the masked man almost longs to tell him, but honestly, he doesn't even know what's wrong. He's felt this burning, this itch for something since he woke up, and as the day went on, he grew more and more irritated, irate, a chemical reaction gone wrong, Harley acting as a catalyst and speeding up the reaction until now, its starting to explode, bubbling over the glass and creating a mess of emotions.

Peter can't tell him that, though, can't tell him that he's being a dick for nothing, so he just shrugs him off, looking away again and muttering a quick, "Nothing."

He can almost feel the tension in the air rise, turning thick as Harley bristles and flares, "Let me help you, for fucks sake!"

"Maybe I don't want you to help me!" Peter sparks back, whipping his head back around to glare at the man, the energy high, electric around them.

"There's a light in the crack, that separates your thighs,

And if you wanna go to heaven, you should fuck me tonight,"

"Oh, no. You do." Harley sneers, stepping forward, closer to Peter. "You do, you're just too much of a coward to admit it."

Peter rolls up his mask to his nose, and glares heavily at the man, taking a step towards him in retaliation. "Middle school insults, really?"

"Only telling the truth." Another step forward. "You're a coward who tries to hide his true feelings and pretend they don't even, even though you know they do."

"Oh yeah?" Another step, and suddenly, they're face to face, their noses millimeters apart, almost brushing in their proximity. "Say that again, I dare you."

Harley takes the bait, leaning in closer until Peter can feel his air on his lips, their breath mixing. "You're a coward, Spider-Man."

And Peter thinks he's going to punch him. His fists are clenched, his body is tense, he's bracing himself to do it. But instead, he finds himself grabbing his shoulders tightly and pushing their lips together, his mind whirling as the reaction bubbles over and the flame in his chest ignites into a wildfire, bright and untamable as Harley kisses back just as heavily, just as intensely, pressing him back back back until his back is pushed against a brick wall. Their lips don't disconnect, their heads turning and tongue swirling as Harley's hands roam up and down Peter's suit, over his arms, chest and abs, Peter's moan being swallowed into Harley's mouth, only to be reciprocated moments later.

The kiss breaks only to allow Peter to jump into Harleys arms, his legs wrapped around and sticking to the waist of the metal suit and his arms around his neck before theyre reconnected again, sucking face and groaning into each others mouths.

"My place?" The blond asks, voice muddled by lips and tongue and teeth, and Peter only nods instead of answering, pressing his face into his neck to leave marks, bites and bruises as the other man wraps his arms around his waist and under his ass, before the repulsors start back up and they fly away, towards the giant looming tower in the distance.

And I've been sitting at the bottom of a swimming pool, for a while now,

Drowning my thoughts out with the sounds,

Peter blinks awake slowly, hearing the faint whisper of a fan and a steady mechanical hum and feeling the satin, silk sheets beneath his fingertips. He turns his head slowly, his brain still groggy as he sees the other man, Harley beside him, his ryestalk hair askew and his face lax, more youthful than Peter's ever seen it, the sheet only covering to halfway up his chest, the rest out in the open, bare outside of the bright red marks still covering his skin. He flushes slightly as the memory's return from the night before, or, evening? He looks to the large, floor to ceiling windows beside the bed to see that it's still nighttime, the bright moonlight shining in through the clear glass, the pale blinds and illumating the room, casting shadows onto Harley's features and making him look... softer, ethereal, such a contrast to his sharp words and his even sharper personality. He finds he likes it, the softer, gentler look, and finds himself staring for a few moments, taking the moment in before he sits up slowly, making sure not to awaken the other man, and stands.

He finds a pair of pants on the floor, and a shirt he isn't sure is clean or dirty, throwing them both on before noticing a glass door, leading out into a balcony on the other side of the room. He had remembered landing somewhere early, hazily, though he obviously wasnt focused on it. It must've been there. He finds himself drawn to it, tiptoeing quietly over to the door and sliding it open before stepping outside, and taking a large inhale of the chilled air. He moves to the railing of the balcony, listening to the faint breeze of the late August winds, the car horns and honks in the distance, stares down at the still busseling, still alive city below them, not really focusing on anything, not really thinking, just breathing, feeling, living.

That must be why he doesn't hear the other man stirring, or hear him approch until the door behind him clicks open again. Peter doesn't turn around, doesn't have to, just continuing to watch the cars drive by until two arms wrap around his waist, gently, warily, until a, now clothed, chest is pressed against his back, and a chin rests on his shoulder. Peter just exhales, leaning back into the other mans grip, feeling more relaxed, more at ease than he has in a while, longer than he can remember.

Do you feel like a young god?

You know the two of us are just young gods,

"Do you ever..." Peter doesn't know when, or why, he starts to speak, doesn't think of what he says as he murmurs, hushed, low, a whisper, "feel like a young god? With these powers, the suits, the- the responsibility..." Harley just hums, faintly, and they start to sway, subtle, gentle back and forth motions, back and forth, like waves cascading onto a beach. "They all look up to me. The people, the city. They all-" Peter shakes his head, sighing lightly, airy. "And sometimes I just... sometimes I just don't know if I'm enough, you know? Sometimes I just..."

"Need a break." The other man finishes, murmurs, his lips brushing against Peter's cheek and sends tingles down his back.

"I-I guess so, yeah." There's a few moments, a few seconds where they just sit in the comfortable silence, where Peter glances up at the smog filled sky, seeing a few stars shining through, the almost full moon gleaming brightly down at them.

Before, "Let me help, baby." Harley whispers, pleads, and Peter goes to protest but the blond beats him to it. "You're burnt out, constantly saving the city, saving the world, constantly being the punching bag for everyone else, let me help. Please, Peter," And that was something new, too, Harley knowing his name, knowing his face, knowing him through and through, though he knows the other man won't tell, won't share, turning his head with easy fingers to look him in the eye, his ocean blues almost neon in the glow of the moon. "Let me help you."

They stare at each other, flickering from eye to eye for a few beats, a few thumps in Peter's chest, and he doesn't answer, not really, just lowers his head and places it onto Harley's chest, into the crook of his neck, but his lack of an answer is answer enough. The older man just presses a drawn out kiss onto the top of his head, and holds him closer, a non spoken thank you that sends Peter reeling, unused to the feeling of care, of concern, of love.

And yet, surrounded by strong arms and held closely to a firm chest, Peter feels at his strongest, feels comforted, known, feels safe. He closes his eyes, and just breathes, let's himself have this moment of calm and quiet in the arms of his love.

And we'll be flying through the streets, with the people underneath,

And they're running, running, running...

#parkner week 2020 #parkner #harley keener/peter parker #harley keener #peter parker #fanfic #marvel fanfiction #marvel #mcu #marvel mcu

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