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dreamescapeswriting · 4 years

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Unfinished Business ~ Part Two

WORD COUNT: 2.8K (This is the shortest chapter I believe in this series)

WARNINGS: Mentions of mafia, strong language,

PAIRING: Bang Chan X Reader

DESCRIPTION: Part Two of nine of my new Bang Chan series.

You’re taken hostage but one of Seoul’s leading mafia families Bang Chan but he doesn’t take you because he wants to fake a marriage or make you fall for him in 365 days no…He wants to use you for his own personal gain. To take over another family but when you try to escape things take a turn for the worst and you learn Chan isn’t one to be messed with.(Please I suck at describing stuff)

THEMES: Smut will be included in a later chapter (It will state which chapter) so this is a fic for a mature audience, Chan x Fem!Reader, Self insert

MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS | NEXT

Light poured in through the bars of the basement window and you groaned groggily as you woke up, you opened your eyes squinting at the sudden sunlight you had no idea where you were but it wasn't home. You stared around the room trying to get used to the low light, you were about to move your leg when you felt something tug on your ankle. It was a tingle sensation running through your ankle as you tried to move it, whatever it was attached to your ankle hurt to move and you felt a jolt of pain tear through your anklebone,

"Shit." You hissed eyes glancing down to your legs to see that around your ankle was a rusted silver chain, not just a chain but a huge silver and rusted chain attached to a brick wall with screws.

"What the fuck?" Using your hands you struggled against the chain trying to tug it away from the wall or from your ankle when you heard a deep chuckle come from the other side of the room and it made you jump.

"Hello!?" Your voice came out more panicked than you had intended but you stood your ground - or rather sat your ground. You couldn't move from the spot you were in and you still couldn't see anything inside of the room.

"You won't get out." The lights flicked on and you looked around, eyes adjusting to the sudden brightness to see another one of the men from the bar. The bar. You were starting to remember what happened after you left work, images flashing back into your brain as you remembered Jisung showing up there and being shoved into the back of a car. Panic rushed through your body as you realised who they all worked for.

"What do you want with me? I don't have any money." You kept trying to struggle out of the chain but it was slammed down on the ground and you hissed as it sent pain through your ankle which was now throbbing in pain the moment it was flung down.

"We don't want money. I'm just here until Jisung comes to watch you. Your personal guard." The man leant back in his chair and smirked at you, he was staring at you trying to size you up as you tried to get away from him as fast as you could but it wasn't working. You couldn't go anywhere.

"Please tell me what you want.." You felt pathetic for begging to him like this but you wanted to know why you were there and how long they were going to keep you if it meant trying to play the weak victim than so be it.

"I don't want anything with you, but you may want to think about lying again. Lying gets you nowhere with Chan." He got up from the chair and walked over to you, bending down so he could come face to face with you looking you in the eyes.

"Chan doesn't like liars," He patted the top of your head as if you were nothing but a dog and smirked at you, popping some chewing gum in his mouth before getting up and moving away from you once again and going towards the staircase that lead up to a steel door where he slammed it shut and locked it tightly from the outside.

"Fuck." You whimpered as you were left down in the basement once again, you pulled at the chain trying to get out of it as much as possible. Wiggling the chains to try and loosen the screws on the wall but they looked fresh and you knew it was useless to even try harder than you were, it would only hurt more. You stared around the floor for anything to use on the lock but there was nothing, then you remembered your hair. You reached up and took a pin from it jamming it into the lock around your ankle and began to use it to pick the lock. It was no big deal, you used to pick locks on the other side of town all the time, trying to find somewhere to sleep whenever you ran away from home before your parents passed away but this lock was different. A simple pin from your hair wasn't going to crack it, the door opened and you panicked trying to get the pinout but it snapped instantly. You shifted so your ankle would be hidden from whoever it was coming down the staircase, you looked up to see the youngest one that had been with Chan the night before. His hair was a dark blue colour and he looked innocent, his name was Jeongin or at least that was what Jisung had called him at the table.

"You alright?" You were taken back, were you alright? What kind of question was that? You were chained up in someone's basement, you had no idea where you were or if you were even safe.

"You tell me, I'm chained up in some creeps basement with guys coming to check on me." You snapped back and he chuckled at you, coming down onto the floor and sliding you a sandwich on a plate.

"A peace offering," You stared down at the sandwich, your stomach sounded like a bear the way it was growling at you but you weren't about to take food from someone who had kidnapped you late at night and was currently holding you in a basement for their boss without someone giving you a reason why.

"Not hungry," You lied,

"What are you doing?" He asked nodding over at your ankle, you shifted again so he couldn't see but winced as the chain pulled to hard and cause more pain to spread through your leg.

"Can you please tell me what I'm doing here?" He sat down on the sofa where Changbin had been sat and you stared at him,

"Can you at least tell me your name? What does it matter if I'm clearly not getting out of here." He sighed looking down at you, he didn't want to do this and neither did the other boys but it was something they had to do. What Chan said went since he was their boss, he didn't care about anyone.

"Look...You ruined Chan's suit, it cost more than you could make in four months so I think he's going to make you pay for it." You shook your head,

"My father has money, how much do you-"

"We know you're not from this side of town and we know you don't have any family except for your cafe manager and your grandfather in that home." You froze in place. How did he know that? He stared down at you and bit on his lip. No-one knew about your grandfather except for Mrs Lu and the nursing home that he lived in,

"If I were you, I'd start being honest the moment Chan comes to see you, he hates liars." He whispered looking over at the door and then at the sandwich that was still on your plate. You weren't going to eat it in case he was trying to poison you or put you to sleep with some kind of drug inside of it.

"Suit yourself." He got up and walked to you, taking the sandwich and biting into it himself as he walked back up the staircase and left you down there alone.

"She thinks she's smart," Jeongin laughed dropping the plate down onto the kitchen table that you thought had been poisoned on something. He looked at Felix and Jisung who were both sitting there and having their own lunch wondering what had happened in the basement.

"What did she do?" Jeongin chuckled and swallowed the sandwich he'd been eating, he had made it for you. He thought it would make it easier for you to have a friend while you were there but you weren't going to be nice to anyone any time soon.

"She tried a bobby pin in the lock, obviously it didn't work but she's smart." They all stopped laughing when they heard Chan coming into the room everything falling into silence as soon as he came into any room,

"What's funny?" Chan looked at them all and Jisung stood up looking down at his plate and going to wash it up,

"She tried to get out, used a bobby pin but it snapped inside the lock," Chan laughed and looked over to the basement door that you were being kept in.

"I like her, she's a fighter." They all knew the real reason Chan was keeping you here and it was for the plan he had in store for you as soon as he got you to confess who you really were that was. The plan was to get you to confess that you worked for Namjoon, once he got that out of you he'd move onto drawing Namjoon out with you so he could kill him.

"Did she eat anything?" He only questioned because he could see the sandwich on the plate, Jeongin shook his head and Chan went over to the cupboard grabbing bits of food from the cupboard that he thought you would like.

"I'll make her eat."

The door creaked open and you squinted over at the entrance to see Chan, he was dressed in suit pants and a white shirt which was unbuttoned at the top, his tie draped around his neck and he had a smirk on his face as he came over to you.

"I brought you some food, eat it." It wasn't a suggestion, it was an order and he threw the food down by your feet. You swallowed the lump in your throat, you weren't afraid of him he just made you a little nervous to be around him since he was good looking there was no denying that. The way he held himself, as though he was better than you and that he was in control of everything around him made you on edge.

"I said eat it, you look sick." He kicked his feet up as he sat down on the sofa that was in the basement and then he rolled his sleeves up on the white shirt he was wearing exposing his veiny arms, he cleared his throat and waited for you to eat. Taking the packet of crisps you opened it up and took one of the crisps out and put it in your mouth staring at him with a condescending smile,

"Happy?" He licked his teeth and cocked his head to the side he liked that you were being cocky with him,

"Not until you finish the full packet." You stared down at the packet and pushed it away from you deciding you weren't going to do as he told you.

"Not hungry." You lied and he leant forward putting elbows on his knees and staring you down.

"Eat it before I ram them down your throat." You didn't flinch, you didn't want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he could intimidate you into being scared and follow his orders he wasn't in charge of you.

"Why am I here?"

"Eat the crisps and I'll give you answers."

"Give me answers and I'll eat the crisps." He laughed sarcastically at how you were acting with him, he liked that you didn't care what he thought and what others told you about him. He knelt down in front of you still laughing until he grabbed onto your chin and forced you to look at him.

"I could fucking kill you right now, you know that?" You stared into his eyes as he stared down into yours. On the outside, he was this cold-blooded killer but on the inside, he was a scared boy and you could tell all of that by one look. He looked down at your leg and then up to your face

"Struggle all you want but you won't get out of that chain." He smirked going back to the sofa and kicking his legs back up on the table.

"What do you want with me?" You barked at him and he rolled his eyes reaching down onto the table and pulling up a red file with your name on the front of it.

"I want to know who you work for, I want to know why you're lying about your life and I want to know who the fuck you are." He threw the file down in front of you and you pulled it open, inside were photos of you in both sides of town living your double life taken by police by the looks of it. Going to both jobs and changing on the bus, changing out of your gross cafe clothes into the nice clothes you wore for the other side of town.

"I work for Mrs Lu in a cafe on the bad side of town, I also work for you and I lie because my life is a fucking shit hole. Let me out of this fucking chain." You barked at him but he grabbed your face again and aimed you to stare down at the folder but he wasn't holding onto you tightly, it was just enough to direct you where he wanted you to look.

"Then why do I think you're lying to me, huh? Who lives a double life? People who have something to hide, someone who works for the mafia, people like you." You frowned at him and shook your head,

"Mafia people?"

"Don't play dumb, it doesn't suit you." You stared at him with a blank expression.

"I'm not playing dumb, I don't know anybody involved with the mafia but I'm assuming you do, considering I'm chained up in your basement." He smirked as you spoke back to him like this it had been so long since someone had tried to hold a real conversation with him.

"You don't work for Namjoon?" You shook your head and he hummed moving away from you and looking down at your ankle. It was starting to bruise and though he would never admit it aloud he felt bad that it was hurting you so much.

"I can loosen it if you promise not to run." You looked at him and then down at your ankle, it was in far too much pain for you to run but the moment he took it off you you were going to sprint as fast as you could.

"Please." You whispered and he moved closer to you pulling out the rest of the broken bobby pin and taking out a key from his pocket. He turned the key inside the lock and once it was off you didnt hesitate, you ran for the door but your legs were like jelly and the moment your left ankle hit the floor you screamed out and fell onto the floor.

"Silly girl. You've been chained up for 24 hours, your legs aren't going to work properly and your ankle looks pretty badly bruised as well." He sucked his teeth moving close to you and staring down at it trying to see if he'd broken it or not,

"Probably just some soft tissue damage. You'll be okay in a couple of days but until then." He bent down and picked you up and carried you over to the floor again where you had been sat. He turned you around and switched the chain over to the next foot so he wouldn't cause more damage to your foot.

"The next time you try to escape, I'll kill you." He got up from the floor and pointed at the file and then to the food.

"That's for you. I'll come down tomorrow and see if you're feeling more co-operative to work with us, I'd think long and hard though baby." He patted the top of your head just like Changbin had earlier and walked towards the staircase once again, your body seemed to yearn for him to come back. Beg for you not to let him leave you in this basement alone but the door slammed shut and the room was only lit up from the small window above your head. Flicking open the folder in front of you, you looked through all of the information they had on you. They had everything, including family history that you didn't even know, your mother and father had been scratched from the files since they were dead but your grandmother's records were there, her bills to Namjoon all displayed for you to see. You didn't even know she'd been taking money from him, no one had told you anything and it wasn't like your grandfather ever remembered anything like that.

A/n: This one was super short and boring but the next chapters are longer I promise

Tagline: @kneel-begyourpardon @snowy-meowl @moonprincessdiviniation @taestannie @km-98 @hugs4chan @calling-dips-on-j-hope @ncitythoughts @peachyhan

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cherryeol04 · 3 years

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Seven Tales

Pairing: Minsung Genre: Fantasy AU, Supernatural AU, Romance, Humor, Fluff, Suspense Word Count: 5.6K A/N: Created for Minsung Season: Season for Soulmates on Twt and AO3. Cross-posted to my AO3.

Jisung knew it was a stupid idea to let Seungmin pick the topic for his project. Granted he had assumed that he would get something boring like “How Day6 will revolutionize the world”. Not that he didn’t like the group's music, because he did. Seungmin just took his love for them to a whole other level every time. And there was only so much Jisung could stand to hear about Kim Wonpil before he wanted to bang his head against the wall.

So when Seungmin told him his topic should be about the mythical Kitsune, he was met with a confused expression which only received a blank stare in return. Only a couple hours later - once he was settled at a table in the library with his friends - Jisung realized how serious Seungmin was as he dropped five different books in front of him.

“You expect me to read all this?” Jisung questioned, brow raised in Seungmin’s direction.

“That’s assuming you know how to read.” The playful jab from Jeongin was unnecessary but not surprising. He really needed to make a mental note to not let Jeongin and Seungmin hang out alone anymore. Their baby was becoming way too savage for his liking.

“I’m going to kindly ignore that comment.” Picking up one of the books, he skimmed over the front cover, honestly intrigued with the images on it.

Japanese Folklore

A very basic and bland title but if anything at least it informed the reader of the contents inside and Jisung’s very basic knowledge of Kitsune was that it was a fox spirit and it was part of Japanese culture. The only other mythological fox-spirit he knew about was the Kumiho, a traditional Korean fairytale that his parents told him when he was younger. It always took the form of a female in order to trick and hurt men, or anyone really. But mostly men, if Jisung remembered correctly. It would be interesting to see how the two creatures compare to each other.

Rummaging through the other books, he skimmed the back inserts mostly because the titles didn’t give too much away and honestly, Jisung wasn’t sure most of these books had anything to do with Kitsunes. But what did he know? Nothing.

“Sorry I’m late!” Chan greeted, startling Jisung to the point that he actually dropped the book he was holding on the table, watching it land with a loud thud on its spine before falling open in front of him. There were several disgruntled shushes coming from neighboring tables and one harsh shush coming from the male librarian that was glaring at him. Yet despite his glare, he was very attractive.

Was he new? He had never noticed him before and Jisung had a keen eye for beautiful people.

“Sorry.” Chan whispered, bowing in every direction before taking a seat next to Jisung. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s cool man.” Jisung waved him off, turning his attention from the librarian back down to the book in front of him. “Huh, how convenient.” He muttered. The page the book opened to was about Kitsune’s physical forms and the typical form they transform into.

“Kitsunes huh?” Startled again, Jisung flailed as he nearly fell out of his chair, eyes narrowed at Chan as the older male laughed softly. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m starting to think you aren’t.” Jisung huffed.

“You’re gonna get us kicked out!” Seungmin hissed, waving a small apology to Hot Librarian who was once more glaring at them.

“Sorry.”

Silence fell over them for all but a split second before Chan was leaning in Jisung’s space once more, eyes roaming over the opened pages. “What’s this for?”

“One of the history classes I’m taking. I can’t remember.” Jisung sighed as he leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes for a moment. “We’re supposed to pick a topic to write some sort of report, plus a presentation and Seungmin so graciously picked Kitsune for my topic.”

“You’re welcome.” Seungmin smirked over the top of his book. Jisung flicked him off with a huff.

“Really? Sounds cool.” Chan grinned, picking up one of the books. “I know someone who’s really into mythology.” Cocking his head, Jisung looked at him, curiosity piqued.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. His name is Minho and he’s in my programming class.” Chan paused, looking ahead in thought. “I bet if you asked him, he’d help you with your research.”

Jisung scoffed. “Ask him? I don’t even know him, hyung! You ask him!” They were shushed again and Jisung only then belatedly realized how loud he had been. He dared to take a glance towards the librarian in fear of how strong his glare was going to be, but when he looked, the male wasn’t there. Well that was a close one. Jisung surely didn’t want to be the reason they were kicked out, but it also wasn’t his fault he was always so loud and over the top. It was just who he was.

His relief didn’t last for long, however, as a shadow loomed overtop of him, blocking out the bright fluorescent lights overhead. Tilting his head up, he locked eyes with dark brown orbs set in a heated glare that he oh so clearly recognized. He gulped.

“I’m-“

“If you and your friends can’t be quiet, I’m going to have to ask you to leave. You’re disturbing the other patrons.” Even if his voice was smooth like honey, not that Jisung noticed, the contempt behind his words spoke volumes and he knew they - he - was on thin ice.

“I’m sorry.” He squeaked out. Hot Librarian only gave him a blank stare and it was almost creepy at how eerily similar it was Seungmin’s. At least Seungmin would crack at smile after a few seconds.

“We’re sorry Minho, we’ll be more quiet.” Chan promised and Jisung froze, eyes wide.

This was Minho? Hot Librarian - who now probably hated his guts - was Minho the mythology dude? Shit.

Minho eyed Chan over, a small smirk playing on his lips. “You’re lucky you’re cute.” The blatant flirtatious comment flustered Chan like no tomorrow, the tips of his ears a deep red while his cheeks were a dusty pink. Kinda cute if Jisung has to be honest. “One last chance.”

Chan raised his arms, hands clasped together in thanks. He smiled at Minho before clearing his throat. “Say, Minho, you know a lot about mythology right?”

Minho deadpanned. “That is my major Chan, I told you this on day one.” Chan stared at Minho, both unblinking. The exchange was weird, though the thought of the two of them dating had crossed Jisung’s mind. But Chan would have surely shared that information with him if they were, wouldn’t he? Of course he would! They were best friends after all, and Jisung shared everything with his hyung.

“Is it wrong to want confirmation?” Chan asked.

“Is it stupid to ask stupid questions?” Minho shot back, the corner of his lips upturning slightly in what Jisung could only describe as a feline-like smile. Chan rolled his eyes and sighed heavily.

“Jisung, this is Minho. Minho, Jisung.”

Jisung flashed him a sheepish smile. “Hello.” It was Jisung’s turn to be on the receiving end of the blank stare and he absolutely hated it. He couldn’t read Minho at all and he was pretty decent at reading people. But Minho…he was different. Then again maybe it was just the air of indifference he gave off that was intimidating Jisung into being unable to read him. Whatever it was, Jisung wished it would go away. And if it weren’t for the fact they were in a library and Minho was already upset at them for constantly being loud, he would have cracked some joke or done something that in hindsight would be very stupid, but at least it would ease the tension.

“What’s your surname?”

“Han.”

“Han Jisung. I’ll make sure to blacklist you.”

“Minho!” Chan scolded. Jisung’s eyes widened, his heart racing as the words slowly sunk in. He was going to be blacklisted? From the library? That would be a dream come true! Or would it? It would make research slightly more difficult but at least he wouldn’t be pestered by Seungmin and Jeongin to go study all the time! That seemed like the best pro out of the situation.

“Kidding.”

Damn.

“You’re horrible.” Chan grumbled. “Anyway, Jisung has this project in one of his classes and apparently his topic is about Kitsunes.” Jisung certainly didn’t miss the way Minho’s expression lifted, a brow slowly rising. “And since you’re majoring in mythology, I thought maybe you could help him.”

Minho turned his gaze back to Jisung, making the other feel so small. There was something about the look in his eyes that was just so intimidating. Jisung felt like he was an insignificant speck of dirt amongst this adonis of a man. Was that too much? Probably, but again, hot librarian was very hot and his dry sense of humor was also very entertaining - if not a bit off putting. Jisung was quick to avert his gaze when Minho raised a brow at him, an action that he noticed was quite a frequent behavior. Sexy really.

Control yourself!

“Well,” Minho hummed as he leaned between the two of them, picking up one of the books on the table. “I can tell you these books here are not going to give you accurate information.”

“How would you know?” Jisung asked quickly, head cocked to the side as he looked up at the other.

“Librarian, remember?” Minho tapped the badge attached to his button down shirt. Jisung blushed, ducking his head as he indeed did remember. It would make sense that Minho had knowledge of which text contained what content - maybe not all books, but at least the ones that pertained to his major or ones that he found interest in.

“Right, sorry.”

Minho smirked at that. “You’re cute.” he commented ever so nonchalantely that left Jisung’s heart and head in a tizzy. How could he just do that?! So casually and to a stranger! “Put these books back.” Minho pushed the stack of books towards Seungmin who stared at him quizzically. The dead expression Minho returned was more than enough to get Seungmin out of his chair and hauling four of the five books back to where he found them. “This one though.” he continued, tapping the still open book, a curious gleam in his eyes. “This one is probably one of the most accurate texts we have.” he said before slamming it closed. Jisung winced at the loud thud and was expecting the students around them to shush them once more for being loud. But no noise came and a cursory glance around told Jisung that no one was even paying them any mind.

Weird. Why couldn’t they have actively ignored them from the start? Then again, he probably wouldn’t be having this wonderful onesided conversation with Hot Librarian Minho if they had. Looking back at the book, Jisung nodded his head slowly. “Then I’ll check that one out. Are there other books you suggest?” he asked.

Minho hummed as he straightened. “I’ll have to check the system if we have any of them, but there are a few I would recommend.” Running a hand through his hair, he snorted. “Come back at around seven.”

“Seven?” With a curt nod, Minho turned and started to leave. “But that’s so late!” Jisung whined out. “Can’t it be earlier?”

“Seven or fail the project.” Minho called over his shoulder with a shrug. Jisung groaned and rolled his eyes before closing them. “Don’t be late.”

Jisung nearly banged his head against the table. Minho’s parting words left no room to argue, even if Jisung wanted to throw a tantrum. He just couldn’t understand why it had to be so late? There were a hundred other things that Jisung could have been doing than going back to the library at seven. But, he did want to pass the project and Minho gave off an aura that he knew what he was talking about. Which he probably did, otherwise Chan wouldn’t have suggested Jisung ask him for help.

But would it help? Only time would tell.

~*~

Seven rolled around faster than Jisung had hoped. After another thirty minutes of studying, he had broken off from the group to attend his second class for the day and then met up with Changbin for coffee because fuck did Jisung need it. It was mostly to help his nerves for meeting up with Minho later. A lot of good that did. Here he was, standing outside the building and his whole body felt like a livewire. There was a passing thought of if he took his pill this morning, but if he didn’t, it was too late now. Though the idea of having an anxiety attack in front of Hot Librarian was a bit embarrassing. Minho struck him as the type of person to laugh first, continue to laugh, and maybe after ten minutes he would finally ask if you were okay. That was humiliation that Jisung wanted to actively avoid. So taking a deep breath, he did his best to steel his nerves and opened the door, stepping into the overly cold student library.

The first thing Jisung noticed was how eerily quiet the library was, more so than normal. Usually, there would be the soft murmurs of the students milling about or at the very least the clacking of keyboards as students worked on papers. But there was nothing, just a stillness that only heightened Jisung’s anxiety. Looking around, his suspions were confirmed - not a single soul in sight. Even the front desk where Minho had occupied only a few hours earlier was vacant. It was very creepy.

With uneasy steps, Jisung approached the service desk, peering over the top and was surprised to see nothing. He had thought that he would at least see something there. A bag, a notebook, a cellphone. Something that told him that Minho was still there. But there was nothing and maybe that’s the reason why his heart suddenly started racing. Or maybe it was the fact that he felt like he was suddenly being watched, but he was certain that there was no one around.

“H-Hello?” Jisung called out, eyes scanning left to right, searching for any sign of Minho’s presence. A flash of something from his peripheral caught his attention and he was turning to the left, staring at the rows of bookshelves that contained mostly the self-help and diy books. He squinted, thinking maybe that would help him see better - even though he knew from this distance, the shelves would distort the figure he saw. At least he hoped it was a figure. Maybe it was a ghost? A shudder ran down his spine at the thought. More movement and Jisung was sure he saw a grey figure.

“Hey!” he called out as he walked to the bookshelves. “Minho hyung?” Jisung was sure he saw the figure between the first and second shelf, but when he arrived, there was nothing there. Instead, the movement happened again, only this time four shelves back. And this time Jisung was one hundred percent sure he saw something. “Hyung, this isn’t funny. Come out.” he called, feet carrying him to where he last saw the figure. Getting closer, a foul smell assaulted Jisung’s senses and he had to stop and force himself not to throw up as he quickly covered it. Jisung could only equate the wretched smell to what he assumed a dead body smelled like. It was disgusting and if this was Minho playing a game with him - for whatever reason - it wasn’t funny at all.

“Hyung.” Jisung called out again, doing his best to not gag on his words. There was a flash of silver, Jisung’s head whipping to the side as he tried to follow it, an overly floral aroma replaced the stench that once filled the air. Left, then right, the silver thing seemed to be dashing around the library, and by the time Jisung finally caught up with where he last saw it at the front desk, it was gone. Yet sitting on the desk was two books and what looked like a white note sitting on top of it. Jogging over, he let out a sigh of relief as both scents seemed to fade away and he could finally breathe again. Looking down at the items, he cocked his head, reading over the note a few times to try and comprehend what was being said and how it got there.

These books will help with your project. Take them and go. I have a mess to clean up in the back.

Minho

All this time, all Minho was going to do was give him two more books? Did that really warrant a trip to the library so late in the evening? Seriously? Jisung wasn’t sure if he was more angry or disappointed. Angry that he had wasted his time for this, and disappointed because he actually didn’t get to see Minho again. In the end, he settled for being thankful, because he could always come back and see Minho another day. And he was sure whatever was in these books would surely help him ace his project. Grabbing them, he shoved the books into his bag before making a hasty exit towards the door. As he left, there was a faint hint of a deep growl echoing from the left side of the library, but he didn’t dare look back. Something just didn’t feel right - from the figures to the smells, to the miraculously appearing books and note - and Jisung really didn’t want to look deeper into it.

~*~

“unlike the fox of Japanese folklore, who will sometimes change into a woman to marry a man who has been kind to it, the kumiho never appears as a benevolent figure”

“Is that the Kumiho?”

Jisung screamed. He down right shrieked as Chan’s voice broke the silence that had swept over him. He was thankful that he was in the student union and not the library this time. Even so, he could still feel Minho’s glare as if he was there.

Minho

Jisung hadn’t seen the other since that weird night at the library, but then again he had actively avoided the area altogether. The books were only providing so much information, and there wasn’t anything interesting that Jisung wanted to write about. The thought of Minho being able to provide more useful information had crossed his mind many times, but that wasn’t enough to persuade him to go back to the library.

“Fuck,” Chan laughed as he stared at him. “Are you okay?”

Panting, Jisung clutched his chest. “My heart still beats. A little too fast but it’s beating.” Chan laughed again at that. Reaching out, he rested his hand on Jisung’s shoulder.

“Good, don’t want you in an early grave.” He commented. “So how’s the project going?”

“Oh, it’s going.” Jisung sighed as he closed the book. “I hate this.”

Chan raised a brow, taking a seat next to the other. “What’s wrong?”

“The information is so boring!” Jisung groaned, frowning. “All the books have the same information and it’s just so…” Jisung waved his hand in the air before dropping it on the table with a heavy sigh.

“What did Minho tell you about it?” Jisung tensed and shifted in his seat, looking away. Chan raised a brow and smirked. “Jisung, did you talk to Minho?”

“I gotta go.” Sitting up, Jisung started stacking the books and closing his laptop, preparing to put his things back in his bag.

“Sung, stop.” Chan chuckled as he grabbed Jisung’s arm, forcing the other to still. “Why didn’t you talk to him? He doesn’t bite.” Turning, Jisung pouted.

“Maybe. But he’s so handsome and intimidating and -“

“You’re scared to talk to him because he’s handsome?” Chan asked.

“And intimidating! Don’t forget intimidating.”

“Oh my god.” Chan snorted and released Jisung’s arm. “I can’t with you.” He sighed, shaking his head.

“I can’t with me either.” Slipping the items into his bag, Jisung shouldered it as he stood. “I need to go. Maybe I can find some other books at the public library.”

“Just talk to him.” Chan exasperated. “I’m telling you, he’ll have all the information you need.”

Jisung decided to ignore him, giving him a small smile before taking his leave. He knew he should go and talk to Minho, that was really the only reason Chan had introduced them to each other. Well that and because Jisung was just too noisy. But there really was something about the older that just had Jisung feeling so small and helpless. And for that indiscernible reason alone, he was absolutely not going to talk to the other.

~*~

In the end, Jisung wanted to kick himself for going back to the library that evening. He had told himself he wouldn’t go there. Not after what happened. He had made an absolute fool of himself before and after the meeting in the library and he couldn’t blame Minho for not wanting to face him. To simply just leave him a note along with the materials. And yet somehow Jisung found himself at the front of the library at twilight. Well not somehow, he knew how he got there. His feet had carried him there. His brain had told him to go there without actually telling him.

Sighing softly, he grabbed the handle of the door and pulled, only to be met with resistance. He tugged a few more times and the doors moved together ever so slightly. Jisung frowned, eyes scanning over the glass panes, landing on the hours of operation. Open from seven in the morning until seven at night. Pulling out his phone, he double checked the time, the frown setting deeper on his face. It was only six fifteen. Why was it closed?

Even though he knew it was useless, he tried opening the doors again. Predictably, they didn’t open, but that didn’t stop Jisung from pouting like a child, kicking them in his frustration. He had come all this way for nothing. But maybe that was a good thing. In reality, he wasn’t sure if he would be able to face Minho, even if he really did need to poke around his brain. It was probably for the best, to spare him any more humiliation.

Sighing, Jisung turned on his heel to leave when something silver flashed in his periphery. It reminded him of what he saw the other night. Curiously - or stupidly, it was debatable - Jisung followed the flash around the corner of the building, searching. It wasn’t hard to spot it again, just down the back alley of the building, by the treeline. It wasn’t really a forest behind the building, but the campus had a small gathering of trees - a tree farm maybe - that surrounded the area. It wasn’t big enough to be considered a forest, but large enough where the campus was cut off from the main roads and the hustle and bustle of the busy city. Nothing to be afraid of, but as he drew closer to the last spot he had seen the silver “thing”, a sense of fear washed over him, weighing heavily on his chest and making it difficult to breathe.

Jisung paused in his tracks, taking a moment to try and calm his racing heart as he took in his surroundings. With each passing second, the sky grew darker - night eventually falling - the lamp posts lining the sidewalks and corners of the buildings, illuminating the area in waves of solar-powered artificial light. The wind blew - the cool autumn air creating a chill running down his spine. It was that perfect temperature to remind him winter was coming, but wasn’t there just yet. A slight nip that would normally leave him feeling energized, yet tonight it left him feeling so cold and alone on the empty walkways. Jisung’s attention turned back to the tree line, catching movement from within.

He knew he shouldn’t go, that only idiots would walk into a wooded area in the dark and alone. But he needed answers. He needed to know what he had been seeing, if anything at all. Taking a breath, Jisung gathered what courage he could find and entered, the darkness of the night growing steadily darker with each shaky step he took. This was exactly how he was going to die, stupidly walking into a dark wooded are on the notion that he saw something. It was like a horror movie. Very fitting considering he was in the middle of spooky season. Leaves crunched loudly under his boots, only adding to the eerie atmosphere. Jisung’s eyes scanned his surroundings, trying and failing to find the source of the silver flash he had seen just a few minutes before.

He was really going to hate himself. “Hello?” he called out, cringing as his voice broke the silent void. “Is anyone out there?” He waited, watching his step so he didn’t mistake the sound of the leaves for the sound of someone speaking. Though it would be hard to mistake the sound of leaves as a voice, but Jisung was known for many talents, why not have that be one of them?

A stick broke behind him - Jisung whirling around so fast that he almost lost balance. Standing there, not too far from the entrance, was a large….creature. That was the only word Jisung could think of using to describe it. Out of reflex, Jisung’s body moved to take cover behind a few trees - self-preservation in effect for once.

The creature standing before him was definitely something out of a Grim’s fairy tale. A bipedal creature with large feet connected to powerful-looking legs that were covered in grayish hair. Or was it fur? Jisung couldn’t be certain and he sure as hell didn’t want to try approaching the thing just to find out. It snarled, snout raised high in the air as its nostrils flared.

It was sniffing.

Golden eyes scanned the dark tree line that Jisung was hiding in, passing over him with each sweep, that it had to be some sort of miracle he hadn’t been spotted. Sharp claws glinted in the moonlight and Jisung could feel his pulse begin to race, a soft gasp leaving him. The creature’s ears twitched and it’s head whipped around, eyes boring straight in Jisung’s.

This was it. This was how he died.

There was a ferocious howl that sent shockwaves of fear through Jisung’s body. The creatures maw stretched open wide in such a grotesque way that Jisung was sure it could fit a whole human body in there without much trouble, or at the very least, whole limbs. It gave another howl, it’s claws flexing. Jisung could see the muscles in it’s legs flexing, twitching slightly. It should have clicked in his head, but it didn’t. So when the creature leapt forward, Jisung stared in a stunned silence as the near seven foot creature came barreling towards him, eyes locked directly on him. His heart was racing - blood pumping loudly in his ears. The lumbering creature made to pounce and all Jisung could do was raise his arms to block the attack.

Jisung expected searing hot, unfathomable amounts of pain. He expected his body to hit the ground, loud snarling next to his ear as the creature tore into him, but it didn’t come. Nothing came but a hard thud and whimpering. Cautiously, Jisung lowered his arms, eyes darting around frantically before landing on the scene before him. The creature was pinned to the ground, a slender hand wrapped tightly around it’s muzzle as it futilessly attempted to try and free itself.

Jisung followed the hand up the equally slender and toned arm, all the way up to a very beautifully sculpted face. A very familiar looking face.

“M-Minho?” Silver ears twitched, turning towards the sound of his name as a pair of deep purple eyes found his. The face looked similar to Minho, but different at the same time. Last time Jisung saw him, Minho certainly didn’t have ears. Or...seven tails? He squinted, counting again and yup, there were seven tails. “What the actual fuck?!” he squeaked out.

Minho raised up a finger, signaling Jisung to wait. His attention turned back to the creature under him, humming softly. “Now Channie, what did I say about attacking innocent people? And a friend of yours, no less.” he tutted, flicking the tip of the creature’s nose with his finger, making it howl weakly and whimper once more.

Chan?! That was Chan?

Jisung’s eyes widened as they stared at the creature that was now rendered practically useless. Able to get a better look at the creature - not that he hadn’t had a great opportunity when he was getting ready to attack - he did sort of resemble what Jisung thought a werewolf was. Was Chan a werewolf? Was it even a full moon? The questions were racing in Jisung’s mind and while one could easily be answered if he just looked up at the night sky, all rational thought had left his brain because there was a werewolf right in front of him! And a kumiho!

Was Minho a kumiho? Jisung pouted in thought. No, he couldn’t be, not according to the information he already knew. Unless Minho was secretly planning to attack and kill him right now. So if he wasn’t a kumiho, then what was he?

“Kitsune.”

Jisung jumped, taking a few steps back at how close Minho suddenly was to him. The strong smell of flowers wafted between them, warm and welcoming. It was a scent he remembered smelling before, and the memory of that night in the library came rushing back to him. That scent had been Minho? Then was that other smell because of… Looking back, Jisung was horrified to see the creature - Chan - was gone.

“It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine! What if he kills someone?!”

“He’s not going to kill anyone.” Minho assured.

“He tried to kill me!” Jisung exclaimed, a little hurt that one of his best friends actually wanted to kill him. And Chan was the nicest one of his friends too.

“He was freshly turned, he didn’t have much control over his instincts.” Shrugging, Minho gave him a gentle smile. “Channie hyung would never do anything to hurt his friends, especially you.” Reaching out, Minho moved to pat Jisung on the head, but he ducked away. Yanking his hand back, Minho stared at him Jisung with worried eyes. “Jisung-”

“So Chan is a werewolf?” He interrupted and Minho nodded. “And you’re a Kitsune?” Another nod. “So that’s the reason Chan wanted me to talk to you about my project.” Realization seemed to dawn on Jisung and Minho would be lying if he said the other didn’t look cute.

“What better way to learn about the mythology than to hear it straight from the horse’s mouth, sort of speak.” Minho sheepishly laughed. Jisung groaned and rubbed his head forehead as he tried to process the information he was just given. Everything about mythical creatures was true. Well maybe not everything. But the fact that werewolves and kitsunes existed could only mean that other supernatural creatures existed as well. Right?

“You look so cute, lost in thought.” Jisung’s head snapped up as Minho carefully ran his thumb over the area between his eyes, relaxing the wrinkles that had formed there. “I’m sure you have a lot of questions.”

“Many.” Jisung mumbled, looking away from the other. Minho pulled his hand back and smirked at him.

“I’d be happy to answer any questions you have, over dinner if you’re willing.”

“Dinner? T-tonight?” Jisung gasped out. Minho nodded. “Are you going to look like this the entire time?” he asked worriedly.

Minho laughed. “No. I’ll change forms. So what do you say?”

Biting his bottom lip, Jisung mulled over the options in his head. He really didn’t have anything to lose. At least Minho wasn’t going to savagely attack him if he turned his back on him. Or at least, that’s what he read. Kitsunes are supposed to be benevolent tricksters. He also had a shit ton of questions he wanted to know, like how long had Chan been a werewolf? How did Minho know Chan was a werewolf? But the biggest benefit of agreeing was that he was going out on a date with Minho. Would dinner be considered a date?

“Do you want it to be a date?” Minho asked, lips curled in a smirk. Jisung pouted at him for that. He also needed to know about that ability and how to keep Minho from using it.

“Um, yeah, I’d like it to be.”

“Me too.” Minho smiled and Jisung felt his heart melt at how beautiful it was. Supernatural creature or not, Minho was absolutely gorgeous and Jisung was so excited. Minho disappeared behind a few trees and Jisung waited patiently for him to reemerge, and when he did he was back in the form that Jisung was used to - Mr. Hot Librarian.

Holding out his hand, Jisung took it, lacing their fingers together shyly, a small flush dusting his cheeks. Minho giggled at him before tugging his arm and leading him away.

A month later - right before winter break - Jisung got back his grade for his history project. It was a 98% and Jisung was more than happy to flaunt it around in front of his friends who continually questioned how he got such a high mark. He told them it was a secret and while Hyunjin theorized it was because he was sleeping with the professor, Jisung didn’t miss the knowing gaze Minho shot his way, returning it with his own wink.

@sauceracha, @jisungsjheekies, @luminouskalopsia, @hanjisungismybaby, @imbonibi, @jiwlys (If you would like to be added to the tags, you can find the list here!)

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mandoinevarro · 4 years

Text

Red Steam Part II

If you want context and even more bullshit read Part 1 here.

Words: 4.5k

Rating: E

Warnings: Mentions of violence, vaginal sex, unprotected sex

a/n: thank god there are so many synonyms for “steam”

It was only after he bribed the middle-aged Twi’lek clerk—who eyed the credits he set on her desk unimpressed, only to pocket them after an exaggerated sigh—and followed her up a cramped flight of stairs and along the dark, mazelike hallways of the second floor of the healing baths, that the Mandalorian found himself in front of the narrow black door that hid his bounty. Apparently.

The clerk’s molars chewed on a wooden toothpick while she fumbled with the key ring on her hip that rattled metallically with every step. She took her sweet time inspecting key by key and seemed unfazed by the waves of moans and the banging on walls that floated out of closed doors.

“Think he only brought a girl or two with him,” the Twi’lek mumbled as she took out a key from the bunch and held it close to her eyes. After a nod, she inserted it in the keyhole.

Mando scoffed. Only a girl or two. Like the kid hadn’t fucked himself into enough trouble already.

The clerk turned the doorknob, pushed it inwards and headed back to her station. Over her shoulder, she barked at the Mandalorian, “Make it quick.”

Yeah, he intended to.

That was about an hour ago.

The whole place is trashed. Mando gets up from the floor panting and clutching his bruised ribs. Something’s broken for sure. He limps towards his rival, who sits angry and defeated on a bed of splinters that confettied out of cracked staircase balusters when Mando was thrown against them and fell to the ground level. With painful movements, his heavy boot kicks the blaster from his adversary’s reach and picks it up.

It wasn’t his quarry who came after him hard when Mando barged into the little love nest. One moment the poor kid was begging for his orgasm, the next he was ripping his lungs at the sight of the bounty hunter and tugging desperately at the fluffy mock handcuffs that attached him to the bedposts.

The girl who was jacking him off, though. She didn’t even give the hunter a second’s noticed before she lunged towards him, effectively tackling and disarming him. She fought the beskar-clad man fiercely and barefoot in a flimsy pink robe, until he decided that enough was enough and scorched what remained of the balusters to a crisp. And then he pointed the flamethrower at her. The pink figure begrudgingly raised her hands in surrender and slumped on the floor after that.

But her eyes are not exactly waving white flags when Mando throws the strongest pair of shackles he owns on her lap and orders her to cuff herself. She glares up at him and wraps them around her wrists, but not before she spits, “Fuck you. Fuck. You. My father’s gonna kill him.”

Mando tongues a dent that he bit inside his cheek. This was supposed to be the easy job, damnit. He was going to find the quarry, tell him the girl’s family wanted his head, and take him back to the ship with not a scratch on the beskar. Easiest money he’d ever make. He wasn’t counting on said girl being with the bounty, much less her fighting like some trained assassin on spice. Stars, the galaxy’s getting stranger by the day.

Once the girl is done, she shakes her bound wrists in the air to get her captor’s attention. He bends down to yank the cuffs, pulling the feral young woman attached to them on her feet. The effort makes needles pierce his injured muscles.

Maker, he’d been so sure it’d be some painless in-and-out job that he’d let you come along with him.

His grip on the cuffs falters.

He forgot. He forgot you came to the healing baths with him. Disappeared into the first floor corridors, saying you needed to “relax”. Could you still be here? Somewhere along the rows of steaming pools and massage rooms. Or maybe you hurried outside with the stampede of half-naked women he saw rush away from the healing baths.

No. No, if he had seen you run wet and covered only by the almost see-through cloth like the rest of the clients, he’d remember. He’d definitely remember.

The girl tugs insistently at the handcuffs, testing their strength.

Fuck, he shouldn’t be thinking about you right now. He shouldn’t think about you ever. But. There’s something about imagining you dripping with a tissue-thin textile plastered on your figure that makes him forget the cut in his mouth.

“We fucking love each other.” The prisoner’s squeal snaps him out of his reverie. He drags her to what remains of the stairs. He’ll take the quarry, find you, and leave for good. “We only want each other, we crave for each other.” Yeah, he’ll find you and go back to the Crest. Back to barely speaking to you. Back to silently craving for you. “I’ve never felt anything like the pleasure when he slides into my—”

“Okay, I get it,” the Mandalorian snarls. Maker, he can’t stand Core World snobs. He’ll just take the bounty and find you and go. He’ll just—

“You get it?” The girl stops dead on her tracks at the foot of the stairs. She looks him up and down in indignation. “You get it? You glorified gonk droid. What could scrap metal get about passion?” The cuffs twist away from his grip as their master climbs a couple of charred steps. Before Mando can take her back in his custody, she turns around to face him, chin up, back straight, and towering over him. Too confidently for someone in shackles. She looks down on the visor with eyes so squinted her pupils look like horizontal lines. “What could you get about desire?”

That…that hits a nerve. Plenty, he wants to growl at her, even though she’s obviously just trying to taunt him. He knows plenty about obsessive lust that leaves room for little else. He’s known for a while that the reason he locks himself inside his quarters pulling pathetically at his stiff cock is not just an outlet for pent of stress. He’s come to accept that it is always your image that his psyche sneaks into his mind when his thumb circles the head. As guilty and disgusting as it makes him feel, he’s aware of the fact that every bead of precum belongs to you. That when he bursts into his glove he wants nothing more but to smear it all over your lovely face.

Still. There’s a little voice poking the back of his head and whispering that the girl is right. That someone who’s spent a lifetime with physical and emotional barriers separating him from all stimuli cannot possibly know genuine want. Even worse, maybe you have that idea of him. Maybe you don’t believe there’s flesh beneath the armor either.

His chest shrinks with a drawn out sigh as if he were the one defeated as he grabs the captive by the arm before she can get any further. He’ll just…just take the quarry…and find you—

Almost as a summoning, the syrupy density of your voice plops into his ears in a shape that feels like his name. The pounding against his chest quickens as he turns and ghosts a hand over his blaster. Waiting. Listening.

A high pitched whine drills a hole through one of the more secluded doors in a corner, urgent and upset.

You’re in danger.

The Mandalorian jerks the girl down from the couple of steps that she climbed, a little tougher than he intended. His neck is warm and the biting pain on his sides becomes an afterthought. One swift movement is all it takes to undo one ring of the usually complicated handcuffs. He spots a pillar and forces the prisoner’s arms to hug around it, securing the missing wristlet once her smalls hands meet at the opposite end.

“Hey!” she calls after the hunter, who is already stalking towards the cornered door. “Hey, you can’t leave me here, what—”

Fuck, he shouldn’t have let you come. He should’ve made you stay on the Crest like always. If something happens to you…

The Mandalorian draws his blaster and pushes the dark door open.

Hot, humid steam trails outside to welcome him, clouding his visor. He wipes it poorly with the back of his glove and steps inside. The heavy door falls shut behind him.

At first, all he sees is red. An angry, flaming crimson that dances around the black chamber and immediately draws strings of perspiration from his pores. Slowly, the smog thins and revels a bulky cube in the middle of the room. As well as another, smaller silhouette to its left, from where the restrained mewls are coming from.

Mando sheathes the blaster and steps closer to the figure, carefully, trying to make out what it is. Once he finds himself right between it and the table, he distinguishes the contour of a head. The mist dilutes and the desperate features of your face come to life under the hunter’s fascinated gaze. Your whole face looks like a crumpled piece of paper in an expression that falls just short of pain. Your eyes are wrenched shut and two fingers are shoved into your mouth. When a wide tongue licks them with lazy strokes, Mando feels the cloth over his crotch shrink.

Eyes wander lower, revealing a layer of sweat over your collarbone and…and…

The Mandalorian thinks the fall must have damaged his brain, because he only puts two and two together once he follows a droplet from your sternum to your heaving breasts. It hangs on to one peaked nipple before letting go and sliding down the line of your arm, down, down, down, getting fatter as it absorbs other smaller beads. It curls around your hand and finishes its journey once it falls from a finger. A finger drawing erratic circles around your clit.

If Mando thought it was hot inside the cave before…well, now he’s certain the seething thrill that rushes from his head to his toes and swells in his lower half is going to kill him. The potent punch of his heart is breaking more ribs than the girl did, and he can’t remember what exactly was hurting in his mouth when he runs his own tongue over cracked lips. His cock is draining all the blood and attention from the rest of his body, swelling bigger and bigger.

Of course he fucking knows he should leave. Walk out of the chamber, wait for you to finish, and take care of his own needs in some lonely corner back inside the Razor Crest. But, suddenly, one leg stretches and your foot sweeps over his cuisse.

Fuck, he can tell you’re close. Your thighs shake and the moans get louder and he really needs to get out. His knees start uncramping reluctantly, buying him some time to be able to at least see you come undone. Until you cry, “S-stars, Mando…!”

Did…did he hear you right?

Was that—?

Did you—?

Your fingers halt abruptly and ease out of both of your openings. Disappointment grabs Mando’s heart before panic crushes it. Shit, did you realize he’s here?

He takes a step back.

Wet eyelashes flutter a few times before your eyes open fully. They’re glossy as they look straight ahead. A finger wipes the vapor off the beskar. Your face moves along his body until your attention focuses on his visor and lingers.

The red light prevents him from knowing whether you’re blushing or not, but his cheeks sure as hell light up with shame underneath the helmet. He feels gravity pull his legs with more strength, holding him down in his place and making him face the consequences of his invasion

Still, his glove wraps around your wrist and gently pulls it away.

“I…I’m sorry,” the embarrassed hunter finally croaks out, dropping his gaze to the floor. “I heard you outside and thought…” He shakes his head and sighs. There’s no excuse for this. “I should’ve left. I’m sorry.”

All throughout his excuse of an apology you stare up at him panting. Your pupils are so wide your irises almost disappear behind them. The leftover surprise of being interrupted pleasuring yourself still hangs on your expression, but something in front of you seems to catch your eye, and your features rearrange to confusion. You scoot to the edge of the bench. Your neck cranes up, placing your face directly below his crotch.

The hot breath from your open mouth warms his clothed balls and makes him flinch.

What? Why are you—? Maker, he wishes he knew what the hell you were doing, because he doesn’t think the seams of his pants can hold the way his shaft is pressing insistently against them. Your nose ghosts over his taint and he jumps back.

A pair of hands rests on the plates over his thighs. The remaining spit on your fingers smears on the beskar. You lick your lips until they glisten, and your head tilts to the side as you study his growing erection. Realization irons the puzzled wrinkles on your forehead and a smile pulls your plump lips softly.

“Could you,” you gasp breathlessly, and the Mandalorian knows the answer is yes before you finish, “could you help me?”

Mando…Mando glitches. He’s almost convinced the girl spiced him and his subconscious is borrowing from his archive of filthy fantasies of you to produce the most obscene hallucination possible. Regardless, reality or illusion, you sit soaked and perfectly bare with your face half-wedged under his crotch. Waiting for an answer.

“I, uh. Um.” He gulps. “Uh, h-help you?”

“Uh-huh,” you purr. One hand resting on his cuisse trails up to palm the tent forming in his pants. Mando hisses. You smile. “Help me pick up where I left off.” Your other hand goes back to its place between your legs.

Staring straight into the lines of his visor, you draw languid circles around your bud.

The helmet feels incredibly heavier on his spine. Your finger pushes into your clit and you gasp.

This isn’t real. The hypnotic red vapor fogs his vision and senses with a dreamlike dimness. You look ethereal behind it, like you’ll turn to steam as soon as he reaches out. He’s going to open his eyes in the cockpit of the Crest hard and alone, like always. He’s going to climb down to the hull and see you and try his best to avoid you. He’s going to wake up from the best dream he’s ever had; from the gorgeous curves of your body open and ready for him.

But. But you’re still here. Delusion or not, you’re still dipping your fingers inside your cunt, inviting him to partake. To prove himself human underneath his layers of barriers. And who can blame him, if he indulges in the one thing he’s wanted for months. Even if he will wake up from this.

Without a second thought, Mando rips both gloves off his hands and throws them into the mist enveloping your bodies. Your sweet smile widens when he wraps his hands around your shoulders and massages the moist flesh. You answer by giving his bulge a faint squeeze. But the Mandalorian has little patience for teasing, and he’s not sure when exactly he’s going to be ripped from this dream.

“Wait,” the modulated voice orders. “Stand up. Please.” You obey, grabbing him for support to avoid falling on the slippery floor. His palms land on your waist, spreading the sweat there. Stars, you feel wonderful.

“Do you want to, uh…” Somehow, he still can’t bring himself ask, so he pulls you closer, so that his erection presses against your belly.

Biting your lip, you look up at him and nod eagerly. Small fingers press between your bodies to unbutton his pants and explore inside. You hum when you feel how hard he already is for you and scoop his throbbing cock out of its prison. “Please.”

Mando grabs your hips and spins you until you’re between him and the table. He pushes you against its side. The fronts of your thighs hit the black surface and you hiss at the contact, but he barely hears you.

He feels buckets of perspiration pouring down his back and chest, hot and heavy wool sticks to his skin, and there’s barely any breathable air slipping below the helmet anymore. But there’s only you. There’s only you and your shifting shoulder blades and the elegant curve of your spine and your ass, all tinged the color of blood and soaked with the liquified version of the mysterious substance floating around in the air. The pains that overwhelmed his body are long forgotten.

The fingers of his right hand spread apart from each other and snake up your back so they can feel your silky skin under his.

You shudder.

Fuck, is this was the girl outside was talking about? Right now, tense and painfully hard and high on the sensation of your soft, sweaty skin against his calloused hands, he feels just as foolish as his quarry. Just as likely to beg for anything you’re willing to offer.

Rough fingers push wet strings of hair to the side and grab your neck. He likes how thin it is around his large palm. How the tips of his fingers almost meet when they circle you. He pushes it down.

When your tits brush the surface you flinch and pull back.

“It—it’s c-cold,” you stutter as you try to look over your shoulder at him, but the grip on your neck is steel-strong and he can’t bring himself to soften it. “It’s freezing, Mando.”

Normally, he’d let go. Normally, he’d drop his hand immediately and apologize meekly. Normally, he would’ve walked away the second he caught you pleasuring yourself and would’ve pathetically gotten himself off to your image back in the Crest, like he’s done so many times, and would’ve never brought it up again.

But here, he has you right where he’s wanted you for months. Right now, he needs to prove to himself and to you that there’s hot red blood running through his veins. That below beskar and wool, he desires just like everyone else. Even more.

Especially when it comes to you.

So he doesn’t let go.

With a stronger grip, he forces you down until your chest is flush against the icy table and keeps you still.

“Fuck,” you nearly sob.

The Mandalorian steps closer to you and flattens the backs of your legs and ass with his cuisses. You whimper at the contact like you did with the table, but the cries turn to moans when he starts rubbing his hard cock against the curve of your ass.

Every nerve in his body tenses like a stretched rubber band at the sensation. Your ass is so fucking drenched he doesn’t even need to spit on it to allow his rock-solid cock to glide against you. Your hips push back and you try to meet his movements, but his thighs just crush you closer to the side of the table.

He won’t look down. He won’t—he can’t, or he’ll lose it right there. He’s certain he’ll cum right then and there if he so much as peeks at what his doing to you. Or worse, he’ll wake up.

He looks down.

It takes every scrap of his self-control not to spill his cum all over your back at the visual. Your glistening body is folded over the table. Your arms hang next to your legs. Your nails scratch the dark rock desperately. The turbid red steam makes you blurry, like an apparition. As surreal as the mental images he conjures of you sometimes, when the ship is empty and he chases his relief inside the hard clutch of his fist. Only now, the long, husky moans you’re letting him hear are as clear as daylight, the scent of sex and sweat radiating off both of you sticks to his nostrils, and the way your body writhes against his are making him harder and more frantic by the second.

This isn’t a dream. It’s you and he has you all to himself.

He can’t wait any longer.

Mando releases your neck and brings both hands down to your ass. He massages and kneads the plump meat there. His teeth grit together to stop a needy groan from pushing past them. Tough fingers spread your cheeks and hold them open. You turn your face to the side.

“Please,” you suddenly spit out, your back curling and flattening almost involuntarily, “oh, fucking stars, Mando, just—just put it inside, just pl—”

The heat of his cock teasing your folds cuts you off. The Mandalorian inhales what little oxygen he can get and sheathes himself inside you in one strong movement. You cry out and he groans like nobody can hear either of you.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, why are you so tight? You’re—you’re—

“So wet,” he hears himself slur. The red haze of the room spins around him. He sounds drunk. “Why—who could be this fu-fucking tight and b-beautiful—I—” Mando manages to swallow the last few words. Now is not time for them. Instead, he pulls back. His cock eases outside almost completely, leaving only the head inside. Then he buries himself again, slowly, grinding into you and letting you feel how every vein of his shaft pulses against your slick walls. He works up a paused pace as he spreads your cheeks further apart and dips his helmet to see how he’s stretching you.

Your arms lift to your sides to clutch the opposite end of the surface. You’re making the deepest, most arousing sounds he’s ever heard. You take him with a throaty mmm or a trembling ahhh that make his chest collapse with embarrassing gasps that he’s trying so hard to suppress. But your boiling pussy clenches tighter and he can’t help choking on the heated vapor that dances under the helmet and drips on his facial hair.

“It’s you—ngh,” you finally answer. “I think of you al—always.” His hips falter at the sound of your voice. “I g-get so wet just im—magining what you—˝ Almost as a reflex, he pushes roughly into you and you cut yourself off with a high whimper.

You can’t finish your sentence. You don’t have to. What you said is enough to scramble Mando’s brains like eggs and flick a switch inside him he didn’t know was there.

Maker, he shouldn’t go faster. He shouldn’t overwhelm you. What if he hurts you? But your confession seems to thicken the mist that’s clouding his visor and restraint. Stars, you think about him just like he thinks of you. Maybe there were nights you would both touch yourselves simultaneously to the thought of each other in your separate quarters. What would you imagine? How long has it been going on?

He doesn’t remember releasing your ass nor burying his fingers into your dripping hair. He didn’t even realize how faster and more brutal his thrusts got all of a sudden until he hears how you trade your long, vibrating moans for short mewls that sound like his cock is puncturing them out of you.

And he should stop and he should ask you what you want and he should apologize for being rough and he should be doing so many things that he just can’t fucking bring himself to do when he feels you squeezing around him like you want him to be that much of a fucking savage with you. So he picks up the pace.

Through the haze, though, he manages to glue a couple of broken words together. “Th-this o-okay? Y-you—fuck—it—it fee-l good?” He sounds like he doesn’t even know fucking Basic, but you’re apparently fluent in whatever primitive language he just spoke, because you nod fervently, your cheek still pressed to the cold rock.

Your mouth gapes like it’s trying to suck the words you need from the fog around you and drool spills from your pretty lips. You only manage to breathe out, “Harder.”

Harder he goes, tangling the fist on your hair more tensely until it pulls your neck up. His other hand shoves your thighs and digs around your folds until he finds a hard nub that he rubs up and down quickly. The feeling makes you clamp down so compactly around his swollen shaft that he has to put his back into his thrusts to be able to push in. Still, he manages to slide inside with the help of your arousal and his precum and the sweat of your bodies and whatever the fuck is vaporized in the room. Every thrust shoves your whole body forwards and makes the edge of the table dig more violently into your hips. But you’re not complaining. Your irises are rolled as back as they’ll go into your skull and your companion is not sure you can even hear yourself moaning for him anymore.

Mando is going to black out. He’s sure he’s going to pass the fuck out. He can’t breathe and you’re repeating his name like a prayer and he can tell you’re close and his cock is just begging for release. A cooler breeze brushes the edge of the helmet. He keeps opening you like it’s the last thing he’ll do.

His ears ring with light metallic clinks and you’re muttering incomprehensible gibberish and he clenches his jaw when he makes out the words “I” and “cum” and he can’t believe his fucking luck and his balls pull up to announce that he’s also almost there and—

“I thought I said,” a sudden, chastising voice cuts the dense steam like it’s butter, “to make it quick.”

You both jump at the interruption. Mando’s heart and movements halt as adrenaline shoots into his blood and he looks around the brume for the intruder.

The Twi’lek clerk stands near the door, squinting to make out what exactly is going on in the steaming room. You both stare at her stupidly—Mando still buried deep inside you—as she swats the fog like a swarm of flies she can scare away with her palm.

Finally, the cloud dissipates enough for her eyes to focus on the erotic sight before her.

She doesn’t even look surprised. She simply chews on her soggy toothpick annoyed and rolls her eyes, like this is just another day at work for her.

“We literally rent rooms for that,” she grouses exasperated while pointing a long finger to the roof like she’s talking to two idiots, “upstairs.”

#the mandolarian #the mandalorian x you #the mandolorian x reader #the mandalorian smut #Pedro Pascal #mando #mando x reader #mando x you #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin smut #star wars smut #Smut

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moody-blues-requiem · 4 years

Text

Loving Living Dead (afab reader x Zombie Bruno)

4th place in the halloween writing poll was Zombie Bruno! Takes place after the events of VA, except Giorno’s stand fuckery was just a bit stronger this time, and Bruno “””lived””” through everything.

N/s/f/w under the cut!

The whole “zombie” incident had come with a lot of uncertainties. First of all, how was he even able to survive? Stand magic bullshit, of course, but… how long would it last? Would he ever die, or would he go on as a living dead until the end of time? Would his body decay, would he need to eat and drink water anymore? Would he wake up one morning with a taste for brains and flesh?

One thing Bruno Buccellati was sure of, though, was that death had not decreased his sex drive in the slightest.

He was so nervous to bring it up with you. You’d already stuck with him through two deaths and subsequent revivals, through body parts occasionally detaching and a couple nights of phantom pains that left him sobbing and dry-heaving, clutching at his own chest for dear life, reminding himself that even without a heartbeat, he’s alive, he’s alive. You comfort was unwavering, but he wasn’t sure if sex would be pushing your limits too far. Bruno could understand not wanting to have sex with him right now, even though his skin wasn’t rotting off (thank GOD) it wasn’t exactly warm and soft and, well… alive. Not what he would consider to be appealing.

And still, despite the wild anxieties bolting through his mind, his body was craving you, and he unintentionally popped a very nervous boner, pressed right up against your ass.

You were snuggled in his arms in bed, Bruno being the big spoon, the warmth of an electric blanket keeping you both nice and toasty. You were on the edge of sleep, but… something more pressing was at hand. Something literally pressing at your rear. There was no mistaking what it was.

“Bruno,” you whispered, rolling over to face the dark-haired man. “Something you want from me, love?”

“I…” Bruno started, letting out a soft, nervous chuckle. “Go back to sleep, amore. You don’t need to worry about me--”

“No, Bruno,” you said, shifting to sit up a little more, to properly meet the man face to face. “Do you think I don’t still love you like this?”

“No! It’s not that, not that at all,” he said, wrapping an arm around you and leaning in, pressing his forehead to yours. “I know you still love me. You’ve done so much for me, I could go blind and still see your love. It’s just…” he hesitated for a moment, before finding his courage. “Well, I would understand if you didn’t want to, you know… have sex with a corpse.”

You paused for a moment, before chuckling, swelling to a full laugh. “Bruno!” you exclaimed. “I told you not to use the c-word. You’re not a… you’re not dead. Not really. So maybe your heart doesn’t beat. You’re still you! And… and… hey, if you’ve got no heartbeat and no circulation, how, uh. How’d you get an erection?”

Now it was Bruno’s turn to laugh. “Your guess is as good as mine. Maybe I was so horny it shocked my heart into moving a little?”

The two of you dissolved into a fit of giggles and kisses and playful touches that quickly became making out and heavy petting. Bruno’s cold fingers worked magic on your body, the added temperature difference only heightening the sensation of his touches. Your pajama top (an old t-shirt from Bruno, the letters long faded but the image of a lighthouse was still faintly visible) was quickly discarded and Bruno wasted no time in putting his hands and mouth to work on your breasts. The chill of his undead body had you gasping out profanity, your nails digging into the skin on Bruno’s back. He held your nipple delicately between his teeth, rolling his tongue over the sensitive little nub until it stiffened to a peak, before sucking harshly, sure to leave a mark. His knee parted your legs, inserting his own leg between them to give you a little friction for how wildly your hips were bucking. Bruno’s erection stabbed at your thigh, demanding attention.

You slid your hand into Bruno’s pants, grasping and pumping his member, earning a surprised “oh!” from the man. “Fuck,” he moaned out, leaning into your touch. Bruno was never one to hold himself back in the bedroom, but this was something else. “God, I… I didn’t realize just how much I was craving your touch,” he said with a breathy chuckle. “Please, keep going…”

You took the opportunity to remove Bruno’s pants completely, before crawling over him, straddling his thighs. With one hand you reached up, squeezing at his beautiful pecs, and the other stayed wrapped around his cock, jerking him off. You started slow, but the eager thrusting of Bruno’s hips got you moving faster. “You’re really this pent up, huh?” you asked, smirking. “We should’ve done this sooner.”

“Yes,” Bruno gasped. “Oh, yes. But we can make up for lost time now.”

You slid your own pants and underwear off, moving up a bit to better align with Bruno’s dick. You took his hand in yours, bringing it to your sex, letting him feel just how excited you were for him. He slid one finger into you easily, then two, and after a few pumps of his hand, a third. “Oh, madonna… you’re so wet for me. I need to be inside you, now.”

You guided Bruno’s hand to his mouth to lick his fingers clean-- you knew that your taste drove him crazy. As he was savoring your juices you shifted down, sliding his cock inside of you in one fluid motion. Bruno nearly choked, letting out a loud, satisfied groan, eyes rolling back in his head and back arching. You felt his cock throbbing, pumping his load deep into you. It was… different. His cum felt cool on your inner walls, and thicker than usual, but none of it was unenjoyable. You groaned, feeling him fill you up, knowing that his thick seed was less likely to seep out of your hole, instead staying right where he planted it, deep inside you.

“Fuck,” he groaned, “god, you were right about me being pent up, it seems. I… didn’t expect to be coming quite so quickly.”

You smiled, leaning down to kiss him. “It’s alright, Bruno. I loved it, I love when you cum for me.” You started to get up, ready to grab a tissue and a glass of water for you to clean up, but Bruno’s hands had a death grip on your hips. You weren’t going anywhere.

“Bruno?” you asked, a little smirk on your lips. “Still enjoying the warmth, huh?”

Bruno looked up at you. From under his dark bangs you saw his blue eyes glinting, more lively than you’d seen them in weeks. A flame in him had been reignited. “I might have cum, amore...” Bruno purred out, lifting you off his lap with surprising strength before slamming you back down, spearing you with his lengthy cock.

“...But I’m far from finished.”

#bruno buccellati #Bruno Bucciarati #vento aureo #jjba #golden wind #my writing #n/s/f/w #va

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soyforramen · 4 years

Text

Blame @sullypants for this one since weird dreams are a common theme lately:

“Hey, Jug.”

Shaken by some unknown force, Jughead groaned and nestled further into his arms.

“C’mon, wake up,” Archie said, his voice coming from a universe away.

Sleep was a dense fog that settled in behind Jughead’s eyelids and he couldn’t muster the energy to push it away. He’d fallen asleep in school again, that much he could discern from the hard table beneath him. But at least the desk was a lot more comfortable than the janitor’s closet had been.

“Dude, let’s go,” Reggie said.

With a hard tug, Jughead was snapped awake. With a wide yawn he stretched out, his back giving a satisfyingly loud crack.

“What’s up?”

“School’s over, Rip Van Jones,” Reggie said. With a roll of his eyes, he ran a hand through his already slicked back hair. “The girls are waiting for us at Pop’s. Apparently we have to have a set list for Sunday and they wanted to go over it after school. Or at least we were supposed to before this knucklehead got us detention from Grundy again.”

Jughead blinked, convinced he’d heard Reggie wrong. Grundy was dead, murdered by the Black Hood. Even if she had come back to life, what was she doing around high schoolers?

“How was I supposed to know she meant a rhyme scheme from Donna Sweet and not Saweetie,” Archie muttered. “Besides, if we leave right now we still might make it before they ditch us.”

Wait, sweater vest. Why was Archie wearing a sweater vest? And was was Reggie acting so cordial?

Certain that this was another weird dream, Jughead reached for his Serpent’s jacket and found that the back of his chair was empty. Serpent’s jacket?

“I still think that we should ditch Jingle Jangle,” Reggie said as he headed out the door.

“What? It’s my best work,” Archie said as he followed him out.

With another yawn, Jughead picked up his books and followed them out into the cool autumn air. With a start, he realized that it was just a dream, a really weird dream to be exact. There was no biker gang that gave out jackets to kids like candy. He and Archie and Reggie had always been a strange sort of friends; and Grundy was never anything more than a septuagenarian determined to drive herself into an early grade by teaching high brow literature to idiot high schoolers.

On the way to Pop’s, Jughead ignored Archie and Reggie’s argument over some girl the next town over and worked to piece together the dream. It had all been so real that it wasn’t a wonder he’d been confused. Everything in Riverdale had been the same as it was now, except it was all off just enough to cast a dark shadow across their sleepy little town.

Hiram Lodge, a well known philanthropist and entrepreneur who tolerated his daughter’s friends was not a corrupt Wall-Street con-man looking to rule the world. The Coopers, an All American family, was not rife with dark secrets that would eventually tear them apart. The Blossom’s, while certainly devious and conniving in their own ways, were not ripped from the pages of a gothic horror novel.

And the Jones…

Jughead shuddered at the thought. Sure, they weren’t the perfect family. But they loved each other, took care of each other, and were as normal as they could be. That image of his family brought up a wave of guilt about how his subconscious had portrayed his parents.

(He couldn’t help but grin, however, at the idea that baby Jellybean could not only hold her own, but was a fan of Led Zeppelin. It was a nice touch. Maybe he’d roundup his mother’s old records tonight and he’d teach her to appreciate the finer things in life.)

But it wasn’t until they’d walked into Pop’s to find the girls seated at their regular booth that the realization that this Betty - sweet, caring, lovely Betty - wasn’t his that he felt a pang of longing for his dream world. Despite how horrific that dream had been, Betty was the golden lining in that dark world, a comfort meant only for him.

The feeling passed quickly when Betty’s eyes locked on Archie. Jughead couldn’t help but wonder, though, what if things had been different?

For the rest of the afternoon, the members of The Archie’s debated and argued over the set list, while Jughead did what he did best. While Archie was arguing for the merits of Sugar, Sugar, Jughead polished off three baskets of fries and a milkshake. When Veronica demanded to sing Bang-Shang-A-Lang solo, Jughead ate two and a half cheeseburgers and drank half a pot of coffee. As Reggie was arguing for… well, whatever it was he wanted, Jughead nursed a chocolate milkshake and a basket of fries (extra chili cheese, heavy on the onions and cheese, add bacon).

Occasionally he inserted his own opinion - no he would not let Reggie ruin another drum set just so he could show off to Ginger Lopez, nor was it feasible for Veronica to burst out, and ruin, his kick drum at the start of the show. But even as he played at normalcy, his mind kept coming back to that dream. Detention with Grundy could never be long enough to contain an entirely parallel universe, and yet it was the most realistic dream he’d ever had.

“Earth to Juggie,” Betty said as she waved her hand in front of his face. He blinked, his gaze centering on her, and she giggled. “Anything you’d like to share with the class?”

He glanced around and found that despite his attempts to stay present, he and Betty were the only two left.

“Veronica roped Archie into installing shelves for her,” Betty explained with an over exaggerated pout. She then pointed over to where Reggie was chatting a short, dark haired teen. “And Midge came in without Moose, so you know Reggie’s not going to miss that opportunity.”

Midge.

The world around Jughead spun and he felt lightheaded when he stood. He walked over to where the pair stood at the counter, and when Midge turned to him Jughead wrapped her in a tight hug, tears threatening to pour from his eyes.

“You alright there, needle nose?” Reggie asked, his eyes filled with concern.

Apparently Jughead hadn’t been able to play as normal as he’d thought.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” he said, loosening his hold. He stared at Midge, still trying to comprehend why he felt so relieved that it was all just a dream. “I’m just… happy to see you is all.”

“I’m always happy to see you, Jughead,” Midge said. She placed the back of her hand across his forehead, the corners of her lips pinched. “But maybe you should let Betty take you home?”

Jughead nodded as the surreal threatened to overwhelm him. When he turned, he found Betty behind him, her arms full of their schoolbooks. She set a hand on his arm and gave an encouraging, if worried, smile. It was easy enough to let her lead him out of the diner. That way he could remind himself that the world where Midge had been slaughtered wasn’t real.

“Penny for your thoughts? Or maybe I should offer a nickel?” Betty asked. When he didn’t respond, she bumped her hip into his.

The contact, friendly, playing, concerned, burned his side. It brought up just how touchy they were in his dream world, along with false memories of things he’d never paid any attention to before (especially not about her). He shivered and quickened his step. Betty, ever the Teflon personality, matched his stride and slipped her arm through his.

“Just a strange dream,” he muttered, far too distracted by how much heat she gave out to come up with a good lie.

“Sounds like a pretty intense dream if you’re still thinking about it this much.”

And with that simple statement, the entire thing tumbled out of him. Nothing was left out, though Jughead did edit some of the more intimate moments they’d spent together in his dream. He was so wrapped up in making sure to include all the details - the corruption, the ever-burning ember of hope, the rocket - that he almost missed the fact that Betty had guided them through the town square three times as he divulged the dirty laundry about the underground boxing rings and Maple Club.

By the time they’d reached his house it was twilight and he was telling her about the prep school murders and fake FBI stings. His mother (his real mother, thankfully, and not the drug running mom that had run out on him) brought them out dinner just as he got to his own faked death.

And for the first time in his life, Jughead’s entire focus wasn’t on getting seconds (and thirds).

When he was finally done with his tale, Betty let out a long whistle. She pushed around the remaining bits of pie on her plate, lost in thought. Now that his head was empty of that bizarre dream, Jughead’s appetite came back with a vengeance. He leaned over and snatched the rest of her pie crust and popped it into his mouth.

“Well?” he prompted, curious to get her take on his dream.

“Do you think the fish Ms. Beezley served today was off?”

He rolled his eyes and grinned at her ability to lighten the mood. Jughead leaned back and set his elbows against the porch step behind him to look up at the sky. Betty set her plate down and sat down next to him, primly smoothing out her skirt before she spoke.

“Do you really think we …” she paused. “My mother? And your dad?”

Jughead groaned and ran a hand down his face. “I’d hate to think what Freud would say.”

“Well, he’d definitely agree it wasn’t a pipe,” she snickered. “Maybe your subconscious is trying to tell you something?”

“Convince Archie that Jingle-Jangle is a terrible song to play to middle schoolers?”

She shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

As the world turned around them, they sat in companionable silence. As curious as Jughead was to know what Betty really thought, it was these quiet moments with her that he felt truly at peace. Perhaps that’s what the dream had signified. With all the clamor and turmoil over senior year and applying for colleges, maybe his brain was trying to tell him to slow down and enjoy these little moments more.

Or maybe it was just a sign he shouldn’t shotgun a whole liter of soda before Grundy’s lecture on Dashiell Hammet.

“Walk me home?” Betty asked suddenly.

Without waiting for an answer, she hopped up and pulled Jughead to his feet, the same as they’d done a million times before. Only this time Betty tugged a little too hard and Jughead stumbled into her. He was about to apologize when he noticed the twinkle of mischief in her eyes. To hide his smile, he bent over and tucked his shoulder into her stomach. Betty shrieked as he lifted her up over her shoulder, precariously balancing the two of them as he picked up her books.

“Put me down Jones,” she said through her laughter, “or I’m telling Ethyl that you’d love to play D&D with her.”

“Dirty pool, Cooper,” he shot back as he casually sauntered down the block to her house. He ignored the faint whisper of the peaches and cream lotion she used on her skin and the breathless lilt of her voice. Because no matter how right it felt in the dream, they were only friends here. “And it’s G&G, remember?”

Once back on solid ground, Betty slipped her arm through his and they strolled along under the streetlights. Just another night in the neighborhood without a care in the world.

“Maybe it wouldn’t be all that bad,” she said almost absentmindedly. When she didn’t elaborate, Jughead’s heart gave a heavy, painful thump. “I could always use more help with the B&G.”

He snorted and reached up to scratch his forehead to ignore the sudden disappointment. “Toni does have some strong opinions about the gym’s new paint job.”

Betty stuck her tongue out at him, her face scrunched. Jughead almost tripped trying not to kiss the tip of her nose.

His mood darkened when they reached her house. Archie was on the front porch, napping, and the small seed of possibility withered into dust. But instead of running towards Archie, Betty paused next to him. Her teeth worked across her lip and she stared, unfocused at him. Her hand on Jughead’s arm tightened and she shifted almost imperceptibly towards him.

With a small nod, Betty stood up on her toes and kissed Jughead on the cheek. He flushed as the sun exploded in his chest.

“Meet me at Pop’s tomorrow after school. There’s a new French movie at the Bijou, and I’d hate it if Veronica saw it before me.”

He knew the smile on his face was just as goofy as the one’s he made fun of Archie for, but Jughead couldn’t help but wonder at this strange new turn. For once, he was excited to spend time alone with a girl. (He was always excited to spend time with Betty Cooper, but this time she wasn’t just Betty.)

His smile lasted all the way home and continued until he settled into bed. Just as he was falling asleep, his phone rang with a text from Betty.

‘Some of your dream sounded nice enough to try out in real life, don’t you think?’

To say that Jughead had trouble falling asleep for the first time was an understatement.

#bughead fanfiction #bughead appreciation week #thank you sully for letting me know we're all having weird dreams lately #and boom #this #trope 1: it was all just a dream #also i'm without anything but the most basic internet so i'll be a ghost in the machine again #but also i didn't want to do my art homework (which has nothing to do with art but ya know)#so #also thank you anon ;.; got me crying over here #i will answer you just when i have functioning internet

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eurodynesass-moved · 4 years

Text

A Close Call

After starting off her day on a rather sweet note with Viktor, V goes out to do some jobs before getting an urgent call from Misty, telling her that Vik's been hurt.

Female V / Viktor Vector

This fic contains very minor, vague mentions of a couple of events/aspects of the game.

Ao3

— — — — —

They had become accustomed to the sound of metal banging against stone, of little objects falling off tables. It was easy not to mind it so much when all they could hear and focus on was their heavy breathing and soft moaning.

V held tightly onto broad shoulders, her eyes shut as she felt Vik's stubbled chin against her skin. He kissed the base of her throat, the side of her neck, her jaw, and she could feel his hot breath against her. It drove her mad.

Propped up on the table beside his couch, she was barely leaning against the wall, her legs wrapped around his waist tightly as he slammed himself into her, over and over. His fingers pressed hard into her thighs, sure to leave some kind of mark when they were done.

"Oh-fuck-ing-hell," V exclaimed between his fast thrusts. Her jaw dropped and she buried her face into his shoulder. From the intensity of him moving inside her, she dragged her nails across his shoulders. That earned a deep groan from him just as he called her name out, his hips buckling hard toward his climax.

The table clanged, something fell over, the wall protested, and Vik continued to thrust in her—once, and again, letting the world know how good it felt before gradually slowing himself down.

V lifted his head by his hair and gave him a sloppy, breathless kiss. The two of them were trying to catch their breath, but were unable to get enough of each other, hands palming at every inch they could reach. As Viktor pulled himself out of her, he must have noticed that she did not find her release one last time before he did, so his hand dutifully went down to remedy that.

"It's okay," V whispered to him with a faint smile. "You don't- you don't have to—ooh," she paused. She closed her eyes, feeling those stupidly skilled fingers of his tease and play with her clit.

"I don't have to what, V?" he grinned.

"Mmm, don't mind me," V relaxed, sighing as he then inserted a couple of fingers into her. They certainly weren't his dick but he sure used them just as well. Moments later, her brows pinched to a tight crease, her body began to arch and her moans grew louder and higher in pitch—then to one, small, silent pause. Her legs pulled upward and pressed tight as her hips twitched beneath her. V's chest heaved in wide curves as she melted in Vik's grasp. "Fuuuuck, I could stay here all day," she moaned, finally opening her eyes to see him watching her with low lids. Fuck, he looked hot when he did that.

Viktor captured her mouth with his for a long, sweet kiss. Pulling away only slightly, V grinned. "You know, most doctors used to give their patients a lollipop after their appointment," she chuckled, a nudge about the fact that they could not keep their hands to themselves the moment her check-up was over.

"Is that a joke or a suggestion?" he raised a brow.

Before she could reply, there was a voice mumbling from behind the locked front door, and then a heavy knock. V snorted, trying to muffle her laugh after seeing the look on his face. Another knock sounded and he groaned in frustration, turning his head away from her to yell, "I'm coming!"

V tapped him on the shoulder once and raised a brow. "I think you already came."

Vik dipped his head, shaking it as he laughed at that. V couldn't suppress her own, taking his face in her hands to kiss him on the cheek. Just as she was about to stand and get dressed, he pulled her back by the waist and gave her one last kiss. He then smacked her on the ass and turned to fix his clothes.

V bit back a grin. "We still on for dinner later?" she asked as she pulled her pants up.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world, sweetheart," he promised.

—

Just over an hour later, V had just dropped off a briefcase for a gig she had picked up the day before. She could not stop thinking about what would come later on. For two weeks, she and Viktor had been planning that dinner. A soothing night out in town, somewhere nice but not too fancy—and they both preferred it that way—with the promise of a lovely time after.

The thought brought a smile to her face as she mounted the bike, sending off a text to a fixer about the job being completed. Just before she was about to drive, she received a call from Misty. V sat up, answering the call, about to speak when she heard sniffling and crying on the other end.

"Misty?" she asked, now extremely alarmed.

"V, you-you have to come to the clinic," Misty cried. "It's Vik, he's... he's been shot."

Everything in the world stopped in place.

Viktor.

Shot.

"Is-is he—"

"He's still breathing, but please come quick," she begged.

V had already started the bike up and started moving. "I'm on my way."

She wasn't certain just how many times she had nearly gotten run over, or how she survived the sharpest turns, but V sped through the streets like she never had before. Getting just outside Misty's Esoterica, the bike shrieked to a stop on the sidewalk, startling the passersby. V leapt off and sprinted through the store, bursting into the clinic a moment later.

It was an absolute mess.

There was blood all over the floors, a couple of AirHypos discarded, medical equipment strewn about, bloodied gauze and bandages tossed aside. Viktor was laid flat on the very same bed that was used for her a while back. His shirt was unbuttoned, tank top cut open, and his chest was covered in blood. There were bundles of cloth that Misty had pressed into the wounds—two wounds to be exact.

Before V could give in to the immense emotions building up inside her, Misty had her run over to help. The bullets were still in him, stopping him from bleeding out, but she needed her help to get them out and fix him. V did not waste any time, getting her hair out of the way and listening to every single order that Misty gave her.

She had been around to help Vik once or twice, but it was nothing more than just bringing him what he needed. It was Misty that worked right across the alley, it was Misty that had seen him in action and helped him more times than she could count. She wasn't Viktor, but she knew what to do. It was more than V could say for herself. V did not dare to look Viktor in the face, to see his unconscious state, to see how the blood had drawn from it and how he might not even make it through.

She did not dare spend a single second cursing at the person that had done this. She could not think about that yet.

She could not think about losing him.

The dinner. That's what she thought about.

—

V had not realized how exhausting it was, working until time had lost meaning, trying to keep someone alive. She wondered if this was what he had to do, all those times she had come into his shop looking like death either from the chip or just some other terrible wound. She wondered if he, too, could not think about moving away and could not bear to turn away from her for more than a second. She wondered if he felt that way about every patient or just the ones he cared for.

They were all things she'd have to ask him herself when he'd wake up. If he'd wake up.

V shook her head, taking a deep, staggered breath and wiping a stray tear from her cheek. There had been a lot of those that she could not wipe away during the operation. Sitting there, in his own stool, right beside him, V continued to stare. She soon felt a hand on her shoulder, Misty's gentle touch, being told to go wash up. She promised V that she would look after him until she returned and so V listened. V was covered in Viktor's blood, her shirt, her hands, even her face.

Finding herself stumbling into a washroom at Misty's, she slowly glanced up at the mirror. An image flashed in her mind. The very same image, but a different bathroom. A different time. A different loved one's blood all over her. He, too, was shot, but she could not save him. More tears pooled in her eyes as she looked down at her hands, moving them under running water and wondering just how many more times she would have to be in this position.

—

Stepping into Viktor's clinic, she saw Misty paused mid-step, looking at her. "Hey, honey. You clean up okay?"

V nodded, then walked through the open gate, turning to her left immediately. Vik was still there, he was still unconscious, but he was still breathing, his heart still beating. Standing beside him now, her face was hardened into a cold expression, but she could not stop those goddamn tears.

"Who did this?" she asked through clenched teeth.

"It was... one of his clients, one of his appointments..." Misty replied. "Went right through the Esoterica."

"Do you know his name?" V prodded, eyes stuck on Viktor's bandaged chest.

"V, why do you—"

"His. Name."

Misty sighed. "I don't know, but... Vik has their files in his system."

V stepped away from Viktor's bed, walking over to his desk and turning on the monitor. A log-in screen. Fuck. She hoped she'd be able to crack it, but first she tried any password she could think of. Fighters' names, special dates, variations of his names, Misty's—

She blinked hard and hoped she'd be wrong when she typed in her name. Her real name.

The insides of his comp opened up to her, free for her perusal. Her head dipped low momentarily as she suppressed the emotions that burst within her chest. V then sniffled and looked back up at the screen, brows furrowed and eyes sharp with purpose. She scrolled through the list of clients that Viktor had dossiers and files on, having Misty identify the man that shot him. Once she did, she asked V what she was about to do, but V did not reply. She simply checked to make sure that her mantis blades were working right before urging Misty to lock down the clinic after she left.

—

Perhaps there was no point in washing up after all, if she was going to be returning to the clinic covered in blood again. This time, it was a mix of her's as well as others'. The client was some hotshot Tyger that had a few friends around when she finally tracked him down. Now, with her in the clinic having returned safely, he had absolutely nothing.

Misty offered to help clean her up and she did not refuse, but she was not going to leave the clinic again. Not for another while.

—

"So I finally handed it over to her and told her I never wanted a job from that sleazebag corpo ever again. Besides, he talked too much," V sighed, spinning around in the stool a little bit. She then finally came to a halt and scooted closer to the bed, gently lifting his hand with hers. "I miss you..." she whispered, thinking that she had enough in her to admit it and be okay.

She didn't.

V immediately began crying and she shook her head, looking down at her shoes. "I can't... I don't know what to do, Vik, just... tell me what to do. I can't lose you. Not you too, not you."

She finally built up the courage to look at him again, moving a little closer to bring a hand to his head. She gently stroked his hair, small comforting gestures without any real purpose. "Come back to me soon, okay?" she sniffled, bringing his hand up to her lips and just holding it there for a bit. At least in the days that he had been recovering, she noticed some color seemed to return to his face.

After he was stabilized, V had called on the other Rippers she knew, finally finding one that would come meet them and check in on him. It became a habit after it was clear that he would not be waking up right away. Since then, V had set herself up just around the corner, having been sleeping on the pull-out couch just to stay close by.

—

A few days later, V had been sitting on the ground beside Vik, leaning against his bed. She had been talking about her day, about a few things she remembered from a while back—anything she could think of just to fill the air, spend the time, when she felt something.

There was a brush against her shoulder, and when she looked down, she could see Vik's fingers weakly reaching for her. V got up onto her knees, taking his hand immediately as her eyes locked onto his face. Viktor let out a faint cough, brows furrowed and eyes struggling to open.

"Viktor?" she called to him. He made a small sound. She checked his vitals quickly, finding nothing to be out of the ordinary. V waited patiently as Vik finally blinked, eyes darting around until landing on her. "Look who's finally awake," V tried to smile, but her voice cracked and her heart ached.

"Fuck..." he spoke, his voice coming out dry and raspy.

"Try not to move," she warned. Flinging a quick thought into her comms, she sent Misty a message then focused on Viktor. "How are you feeling?"

"Like a million eddies," he joked, the corners of his lips twitching.

Misty soon came through the door, sharing a similar expression to V's. Eyes tearing up, full of relief, urgency to be sure everything's okay. So V left her to it. She remained by Vik's side and kept holding onto his hand, listening as Misty explained everything to him, his condition, his wounds, and the procedures the ladies had done to keep him healthy.

Partway through their conversation, Vik had turned his head to look at V, saying nothing but just watching her. Her eyes were fixed on his hand as she held it. She looked as though she were holding the most fragile thing and the look on her face was far too much to handle.

His focus finally came back when Misty placed a hand on his shoulder and kissed his forehead. "It's good to have you back, Vik. Just keep resting, we'll have you up and walking around in no time."

"Thanks, Misty," he smiled at her, and gave her a small nod as she walked away.

Misty reached for V as well, giving her shoulder a small squeeze on her way out. Once the door was shut, Vik nudged her hand with his own.

"Hey," he whispered to her. "Come closer."

V obliged, shuffling a little closer and raising herself up to see him properly. She still could not find it in herself to make eye contact with him, but the thought of him being awake, that he was going to be alright...

Fuck. She was crying again.

Viktor raised his hand to cradle her cheek, "Hey, come on now..." he cooed, a thumb brushing her tears away. "I'm gonna be just fine."

"You fucking bastard, you scared me," V scolded, her head hung low as her body shook with each sob. Her nimble hands wrapped around his forearm, holding onto him. "If something happened... If..."

"Stop that," he spoke calmly, "Look at me, I'm gonna be all better."

She finally did look up at him, seeing the face that she had come to love so dearly, finally awake. "You've just... you've never been on this side of it before, not in front of me..." she explained. "I was so scared I'd lose you too."

"Worst way for the tables to turn, huh?" he chuckled dryly.

V let out a chuckle that was akin to a sob, bringing a sleeved wrist up to wipe all the fluids from her face. "Fuck," she whispered to herself, realizing it was a lot. As she did so, Vik noticed a healing gash on her face that he had not seen the last time they were together.

"That's new," he observed.

Slowly getting up from the ground, V found the tiniest sliver of mattress she could sit on just so she could lean in properly. "Don't worry about it, it's almost gone anyway."

"That's gonna leave a scar," he sighed, a thumb tracing the pink line along her jaw. "Who do I have to pay a visit for doing that?"

"No one important," she promised. "It's taken care of."

Viktor looked her in the eyes for a moment, trying so hard to read her expression. Beyond the relief and beyond the sorrow, there was a hint of something, a coldness in her that he had not seen since the days she recovered from the landfill. It was pain and anger combined, a dangerous mix.

"Well," he brushed her long, precious waves behind one ear and took a breath, "I guess we're going to have to rain check on that dinner then, huh?"

She couldn't help but smile at that, "You just focus on getting better and we'll have a bunch of nights to make up for it, alright?"

"You got it, darlin'," he chuckled.

V leaned down to give him a small kiss, being almost too gentle with him. When they pulled away, she remained close and looked him in the eyes. "I love you, Viktor."

Oh, if she knew what those little words did to him every time. He gave her a warm smile, not missing a beat, "I love you too, V."

#cyberpunk 2077 #female v x viktor #viktor vector #v/viktor #viktor x v #v x viktor #smut #angst #smut and angst B)#fluff #can't forget about the fluff #viktor's biceps

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quixotic-writer · 4 years

Text

Seen Through A New Perspective

This was a request made by: @birdgirl1772 !!

Summary: Q’s girlfriend is terrified of having their first time together because of her insecurities and her negative self image, Q doesn’t hesitate to help and diminish her worries.

Warning: Smut ahead!!

———————————————————

It’s been on your mind the whole car ride to his place.

‘Is this really happening?’ You thought to yourself. All the signs are there: Not only did Q take you to a romantic movie, halfway to his place he placed his hand on your thigh and rubbed circles with the pad of his thumb, and he keeps giving you ‘the eyes.’

Every time he gave you those eyes your heart fluttered, but your stomach dropped as well. You wanted to finally have your guys first time together, but the thought of finally peeling away the layers that kept you safe from judging eyes and criticism made your chest feel tight. The thought of him seeing you and seeing everything you disliked about yourself scared you more than a room full of roaches.

But you wanted it just as much as he did, maybe even a little more. But your self image kept holding you back. Every steamy make-out session always ended with you pretending it never got hot and heavy in that moment, making excuse after excuse to abandon ship. He probably knew something was up, but he never said anything, he never pressured you and never made you feel bad for it.

You pull into the driveway of his house and your heart bangs like a bass drum in your chest. He leads you in the front door and immediately crashes his lips onto yours pinning you up against the wall. His tongue traces your bottom lip and you allow its entrance and your tongues begin to dance together. His hands begin smoothing up your body and he straddles your hips and brings you in closer. Quickly you push him away with anxiety taking over.

“Okay, i’ve stayed silent on this for a while because I didn’t want to rush you into things. Something is telling me there’s a little more underneath than simply not wanting sex.” He says breathing heavily making up for lost oxygen from another fruitless make-out session. He takes a step back and tries to look into your eyes. Your face heats up as you avert your eyes to the floor, fearing that he may have a hint of judgement in them.

“I want this. I really do.” Quietly you spoke, scared to finally open up pandora’s box.

“But..? You can tell me anything baby, you don’t have to be scared.” He has his arms resting on your shoulders. You take a deep breath in trying to hold back the floodgate of emotions you’re feeling. May as well rip the band aid off.

“I’m scared you won’t like my body.” It goes quiet for a moment. His eyes look you up and down and a little concerned smile grows on his face.

“You’re the most beautiful woman to me. I’m saying that honestly and not just to make you happy.”

“Brian, I feel like my boobs are too small. I feel like a walking skeleton sometimes and that I look sick. My face is weird, my forehead looks too big, my mouth is so small and disproportionate. I just feel so undesirable physically. It’s the thing that’s been holding me back this whole time.” You poured out all your deep insecurities like a garbage truck unloading at a landfill. The tears pool, but luckily never flow, but it doesn’t mean you hurt any less. You feel good to let that out, but also terrified to hear what he has to say in response to your confession.

“Baby, the person I see in front of me is not the same person you see. Would I tell you how gorgeous you are if I didn’t think it was true? Would I gush about you at any chance I get if I didn’t think you were beautiful? Would I have a huge hard on right now if I didn’t think you were the hottest chick I knew? The answer to all of those: No! Now, my question for you is: do you want to do this? In all seriousness.” He holds your cheeks carefully in his hands so that he can redirect your attention to him. Your eyes finally met, the aura they radiated was soft and comforting, it was always your favorite feature of his. The gears go in your head, and you decided maybe tonight was the night you finally try and overcome your fears.

“I... want to.” You say with slight hesitation.

“Are you 100% sure? I don’t want to do anything unless you’re comfortable.”

“All I ask is that we take it slow.” you smile to him feeling more confident with your answer, and he smiles back. The worry drains from his face and he feels better hearing you’re okay.

“Just tell me stop, and we’ll stop okay? Your safety and comfort are my number one priorities tonight and always.” You nod, and just like that he pulls you back in and the kissing starts out passionate before getting rough again. You guys blindly make your way through the hall making sure not to trample any of the cats and burst into his room. Your hands graze across his chest and then travel down to where you feel his sizable bulge. You bite your lip hard now knowing what exactly you’re working with, he wasn’t kidding when he said he was rock hard earlier.

He throws his hat aside and you help him strip away his jacket, the clothes falling to the floor with a thump. He grabs your jacket and throws it with the rest of the clothes then continues to reach for the hem of your shirt, but halts his movements.

“May I?” He asks looking at you for reassurance. Though scared, you nod and allow him to as you raise your hands above your head and shed another layer of security away. He looks at you and his hands feel over your waist and smooth down to your hips as though he was trying to memorize the way your body curved. His touch was gentle and delicate, he handled you like glass and was scared to hurt you, that’s when you knew he really cared about how you were feeling.

“God I love the subtle curves of your body. You look so gorgeous.” He lets out as his eyes feast over you and never once looked away. Somehow you didn’t feel so scared anymore, you felt the best you have in comparison to any other guy you’ve been with. He continues kisses at your neck sloppily leaving some little love bites here and there. He then reached a sensitive spot in the crook of your neck which caused a moan to escape your lips.

“Don’t hold back darling. I love those dirty noises i’ve waited so long to hear.” He starts pushing you back onto the bed, he pulls at your jeans until he finally gets them down. You sit at the edge, propped up by your elbows watching in anticipation as he marvels at the sight of you, planting kisses over the exposed bits of flesh on your chest until he starts to move down, down, down.

“You say you look like a skeleton,” He says huskily while groping your ass “But you’ve got meat in all the right places. Your thighs are by far my favorite part. Right next to your boobs and that ass that drives me insane.” He starts kissing your inner thighs peppering them with love bites to match your neck while using his hands to feel up the smooth skin of your outer thighs. All that he does is making you crazy and wetter by the second. You’re at a loss for words, only responding to his river of compliments with sounds of pleasure. “I’ve dreamed of the day where I could finally be between here.” He grabs your panties and tugs them down, licking his lips and tossing the piece of fabric off to the side.

Without a second thought he plunges into your dripping wet core and starts taking long, slow licks with his flat hot tongue. Your eyes roll back at the sensation and you throw your head back along with them.

“Fuck, Brian.” He continues attacking your core with more vigor, getting into each and every fold and crevice hitting all the right hot spots that make you feel as though you could melt. The scruff of his face also tickled against your skin but in the hottest way possible. Your hand snakes onto his head, gently grasping a fistful of hair and you can feel as his head as it moves up and down with each stroke he takes.

He takes a finger and slowly inserts it into you and continues to lap up all the juices that continue to pour out of you.

“Fuck baby girl you taste so good. Can’t believe something this good is all MINE.” He growls. Q had always been very possessive and protective of you. He always openly showed jealousy anytime a guy hit on you at a bar, pouting off on the side or just had his hands all over you to make a point that you were with him, but seeing this dominant side of him in the bedroom now filled you with a deep sexual desire. The way his eyes were filled with lust, the way his voice got gravelly and low, the way his hands felt all over your body.

“Bri, i’m gonna cum if you keep that up.” You begin panting for air as you feel your climax slowly approaching like a wave cresting as it prepares to crash on shore. Each motion of his lips and tongue make you more and more sensitive.

“That’s the goal baby girl, you just sit back and let me do this for you. Let me make you feel good.” He’s relentless and begins picking up speed, finger curling inside of you hitting a spot that made your back arch and let out a string of filthy words. The moment his tongue started swirling around your clit, the wave swallowed you whole as the crash of ecstasy fills your body. Your body stiffens and you gasp for breath all while both your hands shoot to his head and you hold him there as you finish. He slows his pace allowing you to ride out your high then pulls away and looks into your eyes making sure you’re okay. You pull yourself up coming face to face with him and give him a sloppy kiss, tasting traces of your climax on his lips.

“Now let’s get to taking care of your not so little problem.” You say in a sultry voice beckoning Q to stand up. He removes his shirt while you get to work on his pants and you rub him through his jeans and you feel him twitch at the friction and he lets out a subtle moan. You waste no more time and get onto your knees to unbuckle his belt and throw down his pants and boxers that now exposes his aching hard member.

You take him into your mouth, swirling your tongue on the tip giving him the same level of care and attention that he did making sure to carefully find all the right spots. Slowly you start taking more and more of him into your mouth. You hum at the sound of his moans and it sends shock waves of pleasure up his spine.

“Holy shit babe, your mouth feels so fucking good on my cock.” He tangles his hand into your hair as you continue to bob your head making the room fill with nothing but the sloppy sounds you’re making and the dirty things Q continues to whisper and groan out. You feel his member twitch in your mouth and you taste the pre cum that begins oozing out of the tip, and he quickly pulls away. You look up at him confused and worried that you did something wrong. He notices the look in your eyes and the expression you wear and smirks. “I don’t want this to end quite yet. Are you okay with taking this to the next level?” His finger tips trace below your jaw and hold your head up. You raise yourself up and kiss him before leaning to his ear and whispering:

“I want you in me right now.” Nothing more needed to be said, after hearing that he lifted you up and placed you down on the bed. He quickly rummages through his night stand and grabs a condom out, ripping the package open and placing it on as fast as he can like a horny teenager. As he does that, you finally unclasp your bra and throw it to the floor, letting your boobs finally fall free. He crawls on top of you kissing you hard and fast, taking his member in his hand and rubs the tip of it at your entrance.

“Are you ready?” He whispers to you.

“Fuck yes.” He slowly begins to sink into you, he feels a lot thicker than he looked and your mouth falls open. You grab his shoulders and hold on for dear life as your body adjusts to his size.

“You look so perfect underneath me baby, I just can’t get enough of you.” He lays tender kisses on your chest, going to one of your nipples and swirled his tongue around it and sucking the bud. He talks to you with heated dominating passion, but his touch is always as delicate as a butterflies wing. You have never felt so cared for, so loved, so desired.

“I’m ready.” You look into his eyes and they seem to smile. He slowly begins thrusting his hips and a new wave of pleasure hits you as you watch him pull out and disappear back into your body. You wrap your arms around his neck for support as he slowly starts picking up speed, pounding into you. He starts trying different angles twisting you around a bit until he feels your walls clench, he knew in that moment he found the spot that he’d been looking for and he continued to hit it over and over.

“Holy shit Brian right there! Harder!” You scream out in pleasure.

“You feel so good around me baby girl. Fuck. Your body was made just for me, built just for me, so fucking perfect all for me.” His hips began to falter and lose its rhythm. “God baby i’m so close.” He confesses, and you quickly feel your own climax approaching again.

“Me too baby. Holy shit keep going please!” He keeps pounding into you hitting your G spot and it pushes you over the edge faster than you thought it would. Your walls clench around him and you release around his cock. He watches as you finish and with one final thrust into you he was right behind you and spills into the condom letting out a low growl as he comes down from his high, pulling out and collapsing next to you. You both are left on the bed panting and covered in the sweet after glow of sex. Q disposes of the condom, and hops back onto the bed to spoon you. He smothers you with dainty kisses all over your cheek that make you giggle because of the tickle of his beard.

“You’re so gorgeous, and I will never stop saying that. Thank you for being brave tonight, i’m proud of you.” He says to you. And in that moment, in the safety of his arms, you truly felt beautiful.

#brian quinn #impractical jokers #q #brian q quinn #Brian impractical jokers #Q impractical jokers #brian x reader #q imagine #q x reader #x reader #suki writes #Smut #request

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sapphiretsuki · 5 years

Text

Road Trip Gone Right? <M>

Keeping my promise to myself here and writing. I am a heathen and start with a goal of like 1.5k max, but somehow I end at 4k. I’ll keep trying. T_T Also, in line with my self challenge I am again writing for a fandom outside my comfort zone. Loosely edited because its 1am and I’m tired :] @channiesmixtape Thank you again for your undying support, ilysm <3

Pairing: Felix x Y/N

Warnings: Uhhhhh, smut, oral, voice kink if you squint, nothing major really. Condoms. (safe sex is good sex too)

cr. to google for the lovely pic

It was the dreaded season of traveling and for whatever reason your school had decided that they weren't going to allow anyone to stay on campus over break. It was your tradition to bask in the quiet whilst all the other students went home and to friends and on trips, but not this year apparently. As if the universe were conspiring against you, your mother had also decided this was going to be the year that all the family, including by extension your best friends family, were all going to gather and celebrate the new year. Whatever. Why people wanted to celebrate that time was passing as it always did was beyond you, but that's how you found yourself in the front seat of your longtime friends car. Felix seemed just as dejected as you about the long drive and the mandatory mingling that was going to occur.

You and Felix had been quite the pair for as long as you could remember. You were about 7 when you met and you had saved him from some punk on the playground who thought being a little shithead was the way to be impressive. You kicked the little fucker in the shin and before you could follow through with a punch he was frantically scooting to run away. When you turned to check on what you thought was an adorable little girl you were met with a starry eyed Felix and he'd been your sidekick from that moment on. As fate would have it, he ended up being your next door neighbor. Gazing at his profile now while he was driving it struck you that at some point he'd grown to be quite masculine and incredibly striking. He always had been beautiful to you, but these days there was something more and you just couldn't put your finger on what it was.

Shaking yourself out of your thoughts, you reached out to turn on the radio. Maybe music would help whatever this feeling was. It was probably just anxiety over the long drive and the anticipation of being subjected to people you didn't get along with very well. You were unique and not quite the cookie cutter image of perfection that the rest of your cousins were and they never wasted an opportunity to let you know. As if sensing your thoughts, Felix's deep voice broke through the thoughts again, "Penny for your thoughts?" he asked. "Huh? Oh. It's nothing really. Just thinking about the cousins and wondering what brand of hell they'll try to subject me to. I haven't seen them since I started college you know."

His laughter rang out through the car and made you feel a bit better. "I'm sure that no matter what they try, you're still far smarter than them and a hell of a lot stronger too. Try not to worry Cheeks." At the mention of your special nickname you couldn't help but smile. A bit precocious growing up, and definitely the most vocal of the children, you'd earned the title of cheeky which had in turn affectionately turned into the nickname Cheeks. As much as you were dreading this visit, it made you feel infinitely better that Felix was going too. Not that he had any choice either. Just as you had become fast friends at a young age, your families had become some sort of hybrid family through strong friendship.

You must have finally relaxed enough to fall asleep at some point because you awoke with a bolt. There was a loud bang and Felix slammed on the breaks. "Shit, what the hell was that?" He put the car in park and turned the hazards on before turning to you and telling you to stay put. He pulled out his cellphone and turned on the flashlight before stepping out of the car. You anxiously watched him walk around the car and disappear as he squatted down. You were praying he hadn't hit some woodland creature because from the looks of it you were in the middle of nowhere and that was a very real possibility. You jumped as he tapped on your window. "Can you pop the trunk for me? We appear to have a flat." You nodded and unbuckled your belt and climbed over to the drivers side to hit the latch for the trunk. As you sunk back into your seat you could hear him digging around in the trunk. A flat wasn't so bad. Sure it wasn't ideal, but at least there would be no dead animals or screwed up undercarriages right?

Just as you were coming to terms with a small hiccup in the journey you heard another bang followed by a few expletives that made you quirk an eyebrow. That was unlike Felix. You were the one with the foul language problem. If he was cursing something must be terribly wrong. Curiosity getting the better of you, you snatched the keys out of the ignition and stepped out from the vehicle. "Whats going on short stack?" you called out as you approached the visibly frustrated man. "The spare has a crack in it. My roadside assistance doesn't have anyone that can help. They'll reimburse me, but we're going to have to call a tow and probably find somewhere to spend the night since I'm sure there isn't a garage open at this hour." Well shit. This was going to be a pain in the ass. "Okay, which part do you want me to start looking up? How about you figure out the tow situation and I'll see if theres a motel or something. Where are we even anyway?" you asked trying to laugh at the circumstance you found yourself in.

Two hours and a ride on the struggle bus with cellular service later you found yourselves in the lobby of a motel that made you feel like the star of a horror film. You were in some backwood town with a population of almost no one and there were nothing but trees for days. The receptionist or owner or whoever she was seemed friendly enough, but she also reminded you of a walking corpse. Her bony hand deposited a key into your palm and with a toothless grin she rasped out your room number. You thanked her and went to collect Felix and your bags and hightail it to somewhere with a lock on the door. This whole evening had made you feel uncomfortable and all you wanted was to sleep so morning could come and you could be back on your way. Funny that there was something that made you feel worse than spending time at home, but here you were.

Juggling your bag and the room key you were having trouble making the key go into the lock. A warm hand stopped yours from shaking and suddenly closer than you remembered him being, Felix silently took the key from you and ran his fingers over the back of your hand before inserting the key into the lock and opening the door. He gestured for you to go in first and continued to hold the door open as you pulled yourself together and stepped into the room. Feeling around on the wall you found the switch and flipped it. As the light flickered on, yes flickered, because your life obviously needed to resemble a horror movie down to the last detail you let out a groan as you looked around. There was only one bed. It was rather small also. You weren't sure it even qualified to be called a full. There was absolutely no way that you were going to have either one of you taking the floor though. You'd definitely indicated two beds at the desk, but something told you this wasn't a problem with a solution. The place was so ancient they still used key locks, and the lady downstairs looked like she came from 1900 directly. You turned to Felix as he was dragging your suitcases in to break the news to him.

"Looks like we're going to be revisiting our childhood tonight shorty. Theres only one bed and like hell either one of us is sleeping on the floor." His head snapped up from what he was doing to shoot you an incredulous look. "Y/n, I'm far from short anymore compared to you and that," he says pointing in the direction of the bed, "is not a bed. That's fit for a large child at best." You wondered what had him so obviously upset, but you chalked it up to the frustration of the situations that seemed to keep arising. "Felix, believe me, I realize this is less than ideal, but it's what we've got. We both have a long day ahead of us tomorrow, you especially, so we're just gonna have to suck it up and do what we gotta." You said placing a hand on your hip and turning your other palm up towards the ceiling in a gesture of both sass and nonchalance. "I'll see if theres a pizza joint or something in this town, why don't you go take a shower first? It'll help take some of the tension off." He nodded and went towards the bathroom while you dove into trying to get a signal to see if you could figure out food.

Miraculously after the fight of the century with your service you were able to locate pizza. Even better was that they delivered. Downside of the size of the town you were in was that the person on the other end of the phone knew exactly who you were, and described you as 'that poor stranded couple'. Well whatever, food was becoming more necessary by the minute since you'd relaxed a marginal amount and your stomach felt like it would eat itself. You were giddy with excitement and digging through your purse for some cash when Felix reappeared. You didn't notice him at first but when you looked up and there he was in nothing but a pair of low slung sweats with a towel hanging around his neck you let out an audible gulp. He quirked an eyebrow at you, but before he could question what your problem was, you snatched up some clothes and stuffed some money in his hand. "I'm amazing and pizza should be here any minute. I'm gonna go shower now. You don't have to wait for me to eat." You said to him as you brushed past and quickly made your way into the safety of the bathroom.

Once you shut the door, you placed a hand on your chest to calm the beating of your heart. What was wrong with you today? Sure it had been a while since you'd seen Felix shirtless. And wet. But it had never affected you like this before ever. It was like you were discovering that he wasn't the person you'd known most of your life. Just when had he gotten so toned? His lithe body was beautiful and always had been, but when had it also been appropriate to describe him as manly? Stepping into the scalding spray of the shower you prayed that you were just hungry and tired and it was making you crazy. Washing with a speed you normally reserved for things you disliked, you scrubbed away the filth of the day. Wrapping a towel around yourself you rubbed some of the fog off the mirror and after toweling your hair out as much as you could, ran a brush through it. You rubbed your skin vigorously and put on your tank top and realized you'd forgotten your panties. Laughing at the luck you'd had today you just shook your head and pulled on your pajama pants.

When you returned to the room the soft light and sounds of the TV accompanied Felix and his pizza. Belatedly you realized there wasn't likely to have been any sort of plates or anything to use and cursed yourself for not asking. Oh well, things still could have been far worse today so you were gonna stuff your face and call it a night before the bad luck that seemed to be following you around could claim any more of your energy. You plopped unceremoniously on to the bed next to Felix and snatched up a piece of pizza. As you took a bite you let out a moan at how delicious it was. "Really y/n, sometimes I think you'd be happiest with food in your hands at all times." Felix said, chest rumbling with laughter. Your face suddenly felt like it was on fire and you were oddly embarrassed even though this exact scenario had played out many times before. "I just love food and am hungry enough to eat a cow right now short stuff." You huffed out indignantly. Still slightly laughing Felix reassured you that it was fine and he was only making an observation. You felt jittery and nervous still even though you'd checked off all the things you thought were the culprits so you decided to initiate bedtime.

"I think we should get some sleep, we have a lot to do tomorrow and we still have a lot of miles to cover." Felix seemed to mull over your statement before he nodded his agreement. He began to box up the remainder of the pizza and you went to brush your teeth. Making your way back to the room you heard Felix's phone chime and picked it up from the dresser it was sitting on to hand it to him. You weren't being nosy but you saw a name that made your blood boil a little bit. It was one of your catty cousins and now you were wondering what the fuck he was doing talking to her of all people. Unable to help yourself you spat out at him, "What are you doing talking to her?" As soon as the words were out you couldn't believe yourself and your hand flew up to cover your mouth in embarrassment. "You know what, I'm tired, never mind, disregard my craziness, I'm just gonna lay down. "As he stared at you with wide eyes, he responded anyway. "They occasionally text me trying to snoop I think. I just stored the name so I'd know to ignore because I made the mistake of answering a message once before." Well now you were feeling a whole lot more awkward. Deciding that there was safety in silence you simply nodded and laid down in the bed.

Getting under the covers you scooted as far to the side as you could. You weren't sure how you were going to handle being that close to Felix's shirtless body with the maelstrom going on inside your head but you were just going to have to try. Sliding under the covers and in turn being closer to you than you thought was explicitly necessary he pulled the blanket up over you both and whispered to you, "Good night Cheeks." His deep voice laced with a tired rasp sent a shiver down your spine and it hit you then like a bolt of lightning. Holy shit, you were in love with your best friend. Your best friend turned you on. Holy shit, what the fuck. Sleep was probably going to be a problem with your heart hammering away in your chest. Staying as still as you could so as to not draw attention to yourself you mentally went over all the signs trying to figure out when the hell this had happened. You thought Felix was asleep and you turned to look at him. His breathing had evened out and his plush lips were slightly parted. The moonlight coming through the window cast a soft light and made the smattering of freckles on his cheeks and across the bridge of his nose look exceptionally gorgeous.

With his eyes still closed he shocked you when he began to speak. It was as if he could sense your restlessness even though you weren't moving at all. "I can feel your eyes y/n," he drawled and you went rigid. "Not to make things weird, or weirder, but I thought about you when I came last night." Now it was your turn to give the wide eyed stare. He cracked one eye and looked at you and slowly started to grin. "Y-you did?" you squeaked out. He turned to face you and it's not like you had anywhere to run, the bed was so tiny. You were close enough to feel his breath ghost over your face as he continued, "I thought I might have been imagining things but it seems you're just as affected by me Cheeks. You were calling me short stack still so I was a little unsure, but if you could have seen how hungry you looked earlier and I'm not talking about food." You should have known it was going to be a short lived secret but you were reeling that within such a short time of you realizing you had feelings and physical attraction he was calling you out on it. Felix had always known you better than you knew yourself sometimes.

What he didn't expect was that you wouldn't put up a fight about it. He was prepared to spell it out for your stubborn ass if need be, but you saved him the effort and planted your lips on his. You kissed him with all the hunger he described moments before and pulled away, chest heaving. "How long? How long have you known that we could have been doing this? How long have you been thinking about me when you cum?" You shoved him so he wasn't on his side anymore and climbed on top of him before he could do a thing about it. Looking at his face you were searching his eyes as if they held the answers. What you found instead was a look of lust so dark you couldn't do anything except seal your lips to his again. He didn't fight back and instead placed his hand on the back of your neck to turn your head slightly. He licked your bottom lip seeking entrance and you obliged. His plump lips felt so soft on yours and as his tongue swirled with yours you unintentionally found yourself grinding your hips into his as you let out a moan.

Felix also let out a groan at the friction and decided he'd had enough. He flipped you so your positions were switched and you found yourself again marveling at how manly was now how you'd describe him. Caged in between his arms he leaned down and nipped on your throat. Practically growling in your ear, his voice sent shivers down your spine. "I'll show you exactly what I was thinking about when I came if you want me to y/n." If you had been wearing underwear they would have been absolutely ruined. His voice was already one of your favorite sounds in the world, but right up in your ear making lewd suggestions had you feeling like you were coming unraveled. He placed open mouthed kisses along the column of your throat and reached to tug on your shirt. He pulled it up and helped you take it off only removing his mouth from your skin long enough to get it over your head. He continued down your chest and down to your hip where he hooked his fingers in the band of your pants. You lifted your hips so he could pull them down. "Well well, Cheeks, I never thought you'd go without panties, but that certainly makes things easier on me. He took a moment to appreciate your beauty and you found yourself feeling shy. He trailed a finger down your stomach and began to lightly tease your pussy until you were squirming with need. Just when you thought you couldn't take the teasing anymore he slid a finger into your slick folds and then into you.

"A-ah, Felix, more," you whined out. You were so turned on it was practically unbearable. He seemed pleased at your request and inserted another finger and started pumping in and out at a slow pace. He curled his fingers upward and began rubbing circles on your clit with his thumb as he picked up the pace. You began to feel the curling heat and tightening up in your stomach and knew you were going to cum. He could feel your walls clenching around his fingers as he brushed past your sweet spot with every pump. Just when you thought you were about to completely lose it he pulled out and immediately attached his lush lips to your clit and sucked on it. Your orgasm washed over you like a waterfall and he held your stuttering hips in place as he worked you through your high. Feeling like the personification of bliss you reached down and ran your fingers through his hair. He kissed his way back up your chest and you pulled his face to yours to taste him.

"We're not done just yet, y/n. I still haven't shown you everything I was thinking about when I came." You had just barely come down from your high but you felt as if you could cum all over again at his suggestion. He reached over to the nightstand and retrieved his wallet and pulled out a condom. As he went to tear the foil you placed a hand on his wrist, "Can I?" You asked. He allowed you to take the packet from him and he pulled off his sweats. As his cock sprang free you were absolutely stunned. He was so much bigger than you thought he'd be and now you were wondering where he hid that and how it was going to fit. You grabbed at his dick and gave it a squeeze before rolling the condom down his shaft. He moved to lay you back down and lined his cock up with your entrance. He slid the head through the slippery remnants of your earlier undoing and every time he brushed your clit you twitched with need. Finally, finally he started to slide his cock into your warmth. Slowly at first, giving you plenty of time to adjust, he inched inside until he was all the way in. Buried to the hilt he stilled so you could get used to his size and then began to pump in and out of you. You wrapped your arms around his neck and he began to pick up the pace.

He set a brutal pace and you gasped and panted. Your erotic voice was making him impossibly more turned on. As he thrust into you your cries of pleasure spurred him on. He shifted slightly and pulled your legs up so they were over his shoulders. The change in position allowed him to go deeper and with every pump he fully dragged across your g-spot and you felt the familiar ache starting to build again. He continued to thrust and reached out to rub one of your nipples. "Ahhh y/n. You look so beautiful. Look and the way your pussy just devours my cock. This is exactly, ah, what i was thinking about while I got myself off." His voice, and the pure filth coming out of his mouth were enough to send you over the edge. Your walls clamped and spasmed around him and you came on a cry of his name. "Ah F-Felix, fuck." His rhythm became sloppy as you rode out your high and soon he was spilling his release with a loud groan.

You were both sweaty, panting messes. As he began to soften up he slipped out of you and removed the condom. Tying it off he tossed it in the direction of the garbage can before returning to you and the bed. He wrapped you up in his arms and kissed you on the forehead. Before you could even get a word out his phone was chiming again. You gave him a look that said he should check it and so he grabbed it. It was your cousin again and you were struck with a brilliant idea. You knew it was probably partly them snooping like he thought, but there was also the knowledge that they were jealous of your relationship with Felix. "Lemme see your phone," you said with a smirk. He shrugged and handed it to you. You opened the camera and snapped a selfie of the two of you. Her message was some ‘what are you doing’ type thing so you sent the picture and then powered his phone off with a satisfied smile. He let out a little laugh at your antics and from your position with your head on his chest it was the best sound in the world.

Waking up much later than you intended, and certainly more sore, you reached to check the time on your phone. You were met with the family group chat notification count being astronomical, and also a notification from your favorite cousin. It read, 'I know that was you bitch'. With a smile you turned the phone towards Felix who was wondering what besides him had you so smiley this morning. You were rewarded with his eye smile and morning voice telling you, "You're something else Cheeks, but damn I love you."

#stray kids smut #lee felix smut #felix smut #skz smut #stray kids one shots #stray kids felix #lee felix #kpop smut #skz felix smut

548 notes · View notes

bbugyu · 4 years

Text

my happiness + lee jihoon

even in this maze-like world, jihoon made you feel a little less lost

wc.4563 | fluff, uni/hs au, gender neutral reader, seungcheol is a protective bigbro

my friend ulted jihoon recently, so <3

If there was one way to describe your brother, it was protective. You were always his baby growing up - an annoying little sibling, but he was the only one allowed to beat you up. When your neighbor made you cry when you were six, a ten year old Seungcheol went marching over to him at the park near your apartment complex and kicked over his sand castle. In hindsight, he might have been a bit of a bully, but only when other people hurt you first, and you had always been grateful for it as a child.

Now, though, it scared you. Because you had a boyfriend. And Seungcheol didn’t know.

Seungcheol had gone off to college, getting an education doing what he loved with a ton of friends. He lived in an apartment an hour bus ride away from your family home, where you spent the week in high school.

On the weekends, though, you had free reign. And most weekends, you took that hour bus ride to spend a couple nights on the couch in his living room. In the beginning, it had been because adjusting to him being gone was hard for you. For the first 18 years of your life, you had spent the evenings playfully fighting with your older brother as your mom yelled for you to sit your asses down and eat. Now, you sat at the table and shoved your food around the plate, feeling like an only child. Seungcheol knew this, and had opened the invitation - whenever you had a hard week, you were welcome, no questions asked. As long as there was a confirmation before you got on the bus, he would happily meet you at the bus stop and buy your favorite ramen and ice cream at the convenience store on the walk back to his place.

Now, though, you went just to hang out. His roommates were fantastic, a group of music-making friends Seungcheol had made in his course, not to mention the rotating cast of friends that would show up unannounced or to work on music. They were somehow just like him, yet simultaneously so different. You felt the same older brother vibe from Jeonghan that you did your actual brother. He took care of you, tossing you a tangerine when you were starting to get hangry, or sneakily adding your favorite songs to the music queue when you were pouting about something you didn't want to talk about. He lounged on the couch with a look on his face that made you wonder if his eyes ever opened fully, yet he noticed everything. Sometimes, when you were mad at Seungcheol for indescribable sibling reasons, Jeonghan would shoot you a message on kakao, and you would jokingly tell him he was better than your real brother. He always scolded you for thinking so, but it was his own fault for being so understanding.

Soonyoung and Seungcheol had the same way of expressing their passion, diving head first and only coming up for air when they were done. You had watched Soonyoung shove the small table in their apartment against the wall so that he could use the giant mirror leaning against the wall to bang out a detail in his choreographies more than once, and you recognized the look on his face as the one Cheol had as he wrote. He made you laugh the most often, always sacrificing his image to commit to a joke. The way he could transform from a striking performer into a grandma at a moments notice was maybe one of your favorite things anyone has ever done, but you refused to give him the ego boost by telling him, even if your uncontrollable laughter gave you away anyways.

And then there was Jihoon.

Jihoon was quiet and thoughtful, like your brother. He seemed to do better assessing the situation completely before inserting his opinion, which was always well considered and well explained. He leaned back in his roller chair, hand on his chin as he listened to the opinions of his room and bandmates, then somehow managed to have a suggestion that solved all their disagreements. He dressed comfortably at all times, but the clothes suited him well. You cursed him for being able to look put together while wearing sweats and sandals, all his platinum blonde hair tucked into a hat. At first, you wondered if he didn’t like you, considering how close you had gotten to the other two, but when you asked Seungcheol what his deal was, he just told you he’s shy around new people. That didn’t stop you from crushing on him. Hard.

More than once, he had looked over at you, catching your starry eyed gaze while he was working on a beat. You would always blush and look away, mortified by being caught practically drooling, but you noticed that when you stole another look, he was blushing too.

Seungcheol always grilled you about the boys at school. He always made you promise that you wouldn’t go on any dates with any of them before getting his approval, and you sighed and agreed, thinking specifically about how he had said “high school boys aren’t worth your time.”

Jihoon had been around for a couple of these conversations, and while he always stayed seated, facing his computer and away from you, you could see his fingers falter over the keyboard, his creative function pausing as he heard you insist to your brother that none of the guys at your school interested you.

One weekend, you were cramming for an exam, seated on the floor and laid out on the table at the apartment. Around 2 in the morning, Seungcheol told you to not stay up too late, told Jihoon that if he kept you up he would end up dead, then retired to his bedroom. You had yawned once in the half hour since then, and Jihoon immediately spun around in his chair, tearing off his headphones.

“I should let you sleep,” he said, saving his files.

“No, no,” you insisted. “I’m gonna be up for at least another hour, don’t stop working for my sake.”

Jihoon pursed his lips, a habit you had noticed in the time you had known him. He nodded, acknowledging that he trusted your judgement and that he could keep working as he spun around slowly to resume. You watched his profile a moment, noticing the way his eyes scanned his screen while he was frozen, seemingly lost in his own brain versus processing what he was viewing.

“Can I hear what you’re working on?”

He blinked at you hard. “Hah?”

You giggled, trying to keep quiet, knowing his roommates were all asleep. “Can I listen? It might give me strength to keep studying.”

“I-I, uh-” Jihoon stuttered for a moment, clicking around on his screen. “Y-yeah, one second-”

Your lips pursed to hide the creeping smile on your face. Seungcheol had told you ages ago that Jihoon never went on dates. You had slept over at the apartment when Soonyoung had come home late after nights out, or Jeonghan not returning until morning. You had even stayed home a few weekends for the express reason of letting your brother go on dates without worrying about you being at his place alone. Jihoon, though. He was always home, either sleeping or working. You wondered if he even went to class. It was hard to imagine him anywhere but his desk in the living room.

You crawled over to the desk from you spot on the floor, and Jihoon stood up as you got near, gesturing for you to take his seat. As you sat, he handed you his headphones and kneeled, hand on his mouse as you put them on. He looked at you briefly to make sure they were on the right way, then hit the spacebar on his keyboard.

As the beat started, you immediately smiled and let out a small “ooh,” turning to Jihoon as he tried to look anywhere but at you. Your head bobbed as you listened to the cheerful beat. “I love it. What melody are you thinking?”

He cocked his head. “I haven’t gotten that far. Cheol already wrote a few bars, so I made it for that mostly, but I don’t have a hook yet.”

You nodded, humming a quiet accompanying melody absentmindedly.

“Oh,” Jihoon said, suddenly looking at you. “That’s good? That was really good. Hang on.” He paused the playback and grabbed the microphone, and you watched in shock. “Can you do that again?”

“I-I, me?” You gulped. “I’m not a singer, you should do it.”

“You came up with it, how am I supposed to know it?” He asked, clicking around quickly. You leaned back in the seat as his arms reached across you to access the keyboard better. “You should record it, quick, before you lose it.”

You stared at the microphone he put in your hand as he went back in the song to where you ad-libbed, still slightly shocked at the difference in Jihoon’s personality when he started entering producer mode.

“Ready? Just do it naturally. Whatever feels right.”

You looked at him, nodding. The music resumed in your ears, and you sang the melody you had hummed into the microphone with no real lyrics. When you finished what came to you, you pulled the microphone away from you, giggling suddenly. “This is so embarrassing.”

“Why, why?” Jihoon took the mic from you and smiled, after saving the recording. “You sounded good! The Choi siblings are talented.”

“No,” you groaned. “Seungcheol got all the musical talent.”

“Yah,” he furrowed his brow at you. “Are you saying I’m not a good judge?”

You laughed again. “No, no, I’m not!”

“It sounds like you think I don’t know a good voice when I hear it.”

“Stop!”

“Then admit you sounded good!”

You pouted at him, and he laughed. Your frown broke slightly, only to end in you giggling as he looked back at his screen, adjusting a couple things. You wanted to watch what he was doing, but you were lost in his profile. He gave you a sideways glance quickly, then again when he realized you were staring.

“What?”

You shook your head, but didn’t stop looking at him. “Nothing.”

This was the closest you had ever been to Jihoon, sitting in his chair with him beside you, and your heart felt like exploding just by the way he was looking at you.

Then you heard a door.

Jihoon stood suddenly, instinctively clearing his throat and focusing on the screen as you spun in the chair to see Jeonghan emerging from their shared bedroom.

He paused outside of the door, staring at the two of you, processing the scene he had just walked into. “What’s all this?”

You blinked, and Jihoon cleared his throat again.

Jeonghan sighed, grabbing his jacket off the back of the couch. “You guys are too obvious.”

“Where are you going?” You asked suddenly, remembering the hour.

He eyed you, knowing what you were thinking. “Nothing like that. My girlfriend just accidentally played Animal Crossing for ten hours straight and has an exam in six hours. I’m taking her to a cafe.”

You nodded slowly, remembering the girl you had met a few weeks before, then wondered what class has an exam at 9 on a Saturday. “Stay safe.”

“I should be saying that to you.”

“Hey,” Jihoon said, feeling accused. “What’s that mean?”

Jeonghan laughed as he grabbed his wallet and keys, shoving them into the pockets of his denim jacket. “You do know that Seungcheol will literally kill you if you make a move on his baby, right?”

You bit your cheek. Jihoon stuttered behind you.

“I’ll keep your secret,” he said, shoving his feet into a pair of vans. “But if you guys are this obvious in front of him, don’t blame me when he finds out.”

It had been a month since Jeonghan had called you both out for having feelings for each other. A month since Jihoon shyly admitted that he had liked you for a while, but hadn’t expected you to feel anything for him. A month since you, a blushing mess, said that you had a crush on him the second you met him. A month since he gently put a hand on your jaw and kissed you.

A month since you started avoiding your brother’s questions about boys. And he was starting to get annoyed.

“None, Y/N? Really? No guys?”

You rolled your eyes, pausing your note taking. “No, bro. Boys at my school are stupid.”

“What about outside of school?”

This was the first time Seungcheol had suggested that you might know people outside of your class, and your panic must have shown on your face by the way Jihoon snorted from behind Cheol. He spun around and looked at the younger. “What? Is it crazy to think that Y/N might know people outside of school?”

“No,” Jihoon said, straight faced. “I just don’t get why you’re so insistent on them having a boyfriend when you wouldn’t approve of any of them anyways.”

You chewed the inside of your cheek, refocusing on your textbook. “Can you guys shut up, I have a quiz on Monday.”

“You have all weekend,” Cheol said, grabbing your notebook as you protested. “Whats up, my precious little sibling. Why aren’t you dating? You’re graduating this year.”

“Because I have an oedipus complex and no one compares to my brother,” you said, trying to snatch your notebook back as Jihoon broke out into a laugh. “Can you leave me alone for one weekend?”

“If you want me to leave me alone you shouldn’t come to my apartment.”

You didn’t tell him you only came because you wanted to see your secret boyfriend, who just so happened to be his roommate.

Jihoon was good to you, you thought. If he woke up early enough, he would facetime with you during your lunch period at school while he walked to his first class, bleary eyed and swollen from sleep. You shoved your classmates away as they teased you for your older man and he would just laugh, rubbing his eyes in the afternoon sun. He’d send you pictures of random things all day, sometimes in class, or in the library. A book cover he thought you would like the design of. The way the clouds looked in the sunset when he was walking back to the apartment. You often got selfies of him pretending to be asleep during lectures. You would send pictures back of your sneakers while you walked home from school, or selfies you took with the mirror in your room. Every other afternoon, he would facetime you again after Seungcheol left for his afternoon class, and you would study while he messed around on his computer, letting you listen to his music making process.

Then, Friday afternoons, you would skip up the stairs to your family apartment and rush to pack an overnight bag, telling your mom you were headed to Seungcheol’s. She would tease you for spending more time there than at home, but was secretly glad that her kids were staying close. On the bus, you would switch your wallpaper back to an edit with lyrics to some Jonas Brothers song from the picture that Jihoon had sent you earlier that week. You texted both Jihoon and your brother, separately, letting them know you were on your way.

Your phone rang in your hand suddenly while you were watching Jihoon type on the other side of the conversation. Seungcheol.

“Hello?”

“Hey, kiddo! Something came up and I can’t get you at the bus stop.”

You paused. “Okay?”

“So wait until later.”

You paused again, looking around the bus you were seated in. “No?”

“What do you mean, no?”

“Seungcheol, I’m not a little kid. I know where you live. Besides, I’m already on the bus.”

You rolled your eyes when you heard him groaning. “You’re so annoying. Okay, hang on.”

“You’re the one being annoying, bro-” you were cut off by the sound of a door opening and Cheol yelling a sustained “YAH!”

“Can you go get this stupid kid at the bus stop? By the 7eleven?”

“Bro, I’m not a stupid kid-”

“Okay I’m back. Jihoon says he’ll come meet you.”

You paused. “Fine.”

“Ah, you’re fine if it’s Jihoon but not me. I see how it is.”

You laughed. “What do you mean?”

“This kid,” he muttered teasingly. “Doesn’t even care that their big brother just wants to take care of them. Prefers the other brothers. I get it. I’m not hurt.”

“Shut up,” you laughed. “I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah whatever. Love you!”

“Love you, too.”

Then you sat, vibrating, on a bus for forty-five minutes.

You stood by the back door as the bus stopped in front of the 7eleven, grinning when you saw Jihoon leaning against the wall, waving at you through the bus window. You hopped off and excitedly skipped towards him, making him laugh as he pushed off the wall.

“Hi,” you said, grinning.

“Hi,” he said back, quickly leaning into you for a kiss.

You really cherished the moments you could act how you wanted with Jihoon. You knew that if you let yourself get soft and sappy with Seungcheol around, it would be a dead giveaway, so you kept your normal attitude at the apartment. But, what you wanted to do was hook your arm into Jihoons, plant a kiss on his cheek, and happily tell him about your week as you walked. So that’s what you did.

Despite the fact that you had talked over facetime the day before, you still found something to tell him about, making him laugh when you imitated one of your classmates. He told you that he started a new song the night before, and you begged him to let you listen to it when you got home, but he said you had to wait until it was done.

Your fingers fit well between his, you thought, when he suddenly asked if you were hungry.

“Kinda,” you said, looking over to him. “You?”

He nodded, looking down the street at what was around. “I haven’t eaten yet today. Do you wanna go to the snack bar?”

You grinned, giving him a look. “Lee Jihoon, are you asking me out?”

He laughed, tugging your hand with his. “Shut up. Let’s go.”

You decided to let it slide that it was almost four in the afternoon and he hadn’t eaten yet, giggling as you got pulled down the street. You had always liked Jihoon, obviously, but you especially liked the Jihoon you had gotten to know. The one that was relaxed and laughed at every chance he got, rather than the shy and hesitant Jihoon you had met. Now that he wasn’t trying to hide his feelings from you, he had become a cooler, calmer version of himself when you were around, not just when he forgot you were sitting on the couch while him and the guys worked on a song.

When you entered the snack bar that your group frequented often, you realized you had never eaten anywhere alone with Jihoon, much less there. It was starting to kind of feel like a real date, you thought, as he led you to a small table, looking over the menu when he sat despite probably having it memorized. You quickly got up and retrieved a pitcher of water for you both, asking him what sounded good.

“Everything,” he said, leaning back and stretching his shoulders. “What do you want? My treat.”

You bit your cheek, looking at the menu, despite also having it memorized. It really was starting to feel like a date. “Rabokki?”

“Oooh, I like it. With cheese?”

You scoffed, pouring the water for both of you. “Always with cheese.”

He laughed as he pulled the cap off a felt tip pen to mark out your order. “Do we want the fried rice at the end, too?”

“Wah,” you said, eyes wide. “I haven’t had that in so long. Are you hungry enough?”

He looked at you. “Are you being serious?”

You giggled, letting your hand find his free one beside the inset grill, fingers slipping between his. “Order it, then.”

He inhaled sharply, cocking his head at the menu. “Should we also get kimbap?”

“Jihoon, there’s only two of us.”

“And?”

He played around with the idea for a bit longer, making you laugh, but he decided against it so that he could justify ordering chicken for dinner. After the older woman that ran the place took the marked menu from Jihoon, he stared at you for a minute, then smiled.

You pouted, suddenly shy under his gaze. “What?”

“You’re really cute.”

You pulled your hand away from his and leaned back in your chair, crossing your arms. “Shut up.”

He laughed, leaning forward to pull your hand back. “Hey, hey! That’s mine. You can’t take it.”

“My hand?”

“No, mine.”

You held it up. “This one? The one attached to me?”

“Yeah, it’s mine. Give it back.”

You wished you didn’t blush so hard as you pouted and muttered a “fine,” letting him take it back and rest it on the table again.

Then there was thunk on the window, making you both jump and look over, along with the few other patrons. Your eyes got big as your big brother pointed at you, a balled fist against the glass.

“Yah!” His voice was muted from through the glass, but his tone was obvious. You looked at Jihoon, then at your hands, and you both pulled away as soon as you realized, but it was way too late. You groaned and collapsed onto the table as Seungcheol marched to the entrance and entered the snack bar.

“What the hell! You didn’t tell me?”

Jihoon stood up, but stuttered. “H-hey, calm down, bro-”

“Y/N.”

You didn’t lift your head. “What.”

“Look at me.”

“No.”

“I’m sorry,” Jihoon interjected. “I asked them to not let you know. It’s my fault.”

“What?” Seungcheol stared at him. “Why? Why would you think I wouldn’t want to know about this?”

“Because you would have said I wasn’t good enough, and you’re right.”

That made you pop your head up, squinting at Jihoon. “What? No. That’s not true.”

“How can you judge?” Seungcheol asked, nodding at you. “You don’t have experience with guys. You barely even know him.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “Oh my God, Seungcheol, I’ve known Jihoon for almost a year now. I probably know him better than you do. And I don’t need you telling me who’s worthy of my time.”

Seungcheol pouted at you, his brows giving away that he was more hurt than angry. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

You paused. “Are you serious?”

He exhaled, sitting in the extra chair at your table, completely ignoring the group of people he had been walking with that were now just standing outside of the restaurant. “How long?”

You eyed Jihoon, who quietly sat across from you. “About a month.”

Seungcheol clicked his tongue, as he looked around, concealing a curse and clearly annoyed that he hadn’t figured out sooner. “How serious?”

“I really like Y/N,” Jihoon said, pulling both of your attention. He adjusted his baseball cap, another habit of his you had noticed. “A lot. I would like it to be serious.”

You pursed your lips, trying to hide a smile. “Me too.”

“God, I hate this,” Seungcheol said, rubbing his face. “This sucks so much.”

You shoved his shoulder. “Why, why?”

“Because I want to beat up your boyfriend but I don’t want to beat up my producer.”

“Nice,” Jihoon deadpanned, looking at you with a raised fist in victory. “We found a loophole.”

You couldn’t help but laugh as Seungcheol groaned, pulling himself out of the chair. “Are you paying? You better be paying.”

Jihoon laughed, hands up in surrender. “I’m paying, I promise.”

“He already offered, Seungcheol, seriously. God, you’re so annoying.”

“I can’t believe I’m leaving you two here.”

“Are you?” You asked. “Because it seems a lot like you’re still here.”

“Oh, nice,” Jihoon raised a hand and you laughed as you high fived him.

“I’ll kill you both if given the opportunity, I swear,” Seungcheol said, walking towards the door. “Take me seriously.”

“Of course, big brother! I love you!”

Jihoon made a heart with his arms and you held your face, trying to not snort at the way Seungcheol pointed and looked at him.

“God, this sucks,” he repeated before opening the door, sounding completely defeated. "Oh my God the song you were writing yesterday-”

Jihoon cleared his throat. "Hey, bro, shut up."

You eyed Jihoon and he shook his head. Seungcheol leaned against the doorframe in anguish, still complaining about how much he hated the situation. You waved to him as he rejoined his friends, all of them slapping his back as he huffed. You exhaled deeply and looked at Jihoon. “Well, that went better than expected.”

He exhaled, nodding, rubbing his hands on his thighs. “I think I saw my life flash before my eyes.”

You giggled a moment, then paused. “Were you serious earlier?”

Jihoon looked at you, wide eyed. “About what?”

“That you don’t think you’re good enough.”

His tongue clicked and he inhaled, fidgeting with his hands. “I- yeah. Kinda?”

“Why?”

He shook his head. “I just don’t get you.”

You frowned. “What?”

“I don’t get how-” he paused, clearing his throat and straightening his spine. “I don’t understand it. You’re so funny and cute and smart, I’m sure people are asking you out at school all the time. Wouldn’t it be easier to have a boyfriend you could actually spend time with?”

“We do spend time together,” you said, thinking of all the video calls and the weekends hanging out.

“Not really,” Jihoon said. “Not like a couple.”

You faltered. “You mean like going out?”

He pursed his lips, clearly not sure how to express what was going on in his head with you pushing for an answer. “I guess? Don’t you think you should see your boyfriend more?”

“Yeah, of course,” you said, trying to get him to look at you again. “But only because you’re my boyfriend. I like you, Jihoon. I don’t wanna be with anyone else.”

He sniffed suddenly, a smile breaking through. He raised his eyebrows a bit, and you almost laughed at his playful look. “You don’t wanna be with anyone else?”

You giggled. “No. Only you.”

“Wow,” he said, putting his hands on the table. “No one, huh?”

“Shut up,” you said, recognizing his jokingly cocky tone.

“Wow, this feels good, huh?” He grinned, committing to the bit by speaking in dialect. “I like this feeling. Turns out, happiness isn’t just a word.”

Your eyes closed as you laughed. “You’re acting so weird, stop.”

He laughed with you while your pot arrived and the server turned on the burner. Jihoon immediately began breaking up the ramen, smiling sideways while you watched him.

“What?” He asked finally, wondering why you stared at him instead of the food.

You smiled. “I like you.”

He exhaled with a smile. “I like you, too.”

#LEE JIHOON!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#i love that mf so much wow #also jeonghans gf is me idk if thats obvious enough #woozi #lee woozi #lee jihoon #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #woozi scenarios #woozi imagines #lee jihoon scenarios #lee jihoon imagines #i wrote dis #wooji #yes the song he wrote is simple shhhh

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marlinspirkhall · 4 years

Text

Tomorrow Never Comes, Chapter 01: “Play Me”

For Non-AO3 Readers. Originally published on AO3. Written for the 2020 Star Trek Halloween Bang.

Artist: @idealisticcatastasis

Content warnings: Graphic Descriptions Of Violence, Other Archive Warnings May Apply.

Chapter 1 Word Count: 5,719 words

[Front Cover] [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2]

There’s a groan. Jim shifts, ever so slightly, and the overhead lights flicker on. The room is flooded instantly by a bright, neon green, as if every surface has been covered in ectoplasm from an old horror movie. He’s leaning against something hard, and he pulls away from it with a groan.

It’s a metal bathtub, set into the floor. Above him is a shower head, rusted with age, and the wall is in a similar state of disrepair.

He catches a glimpse of something on the floor. A streak of maroon runs round the outer edge of the tub, trails to the ground, covers the floor in a patch around his feet- and yet, there’s not a drop of it on him. He shifts, tentatively, and it flecks off the metal floor. Whatever it is, it’s been further discoloured by the lights overhead, and it takes him a moment to process it. Not brown, he realises. Red.

Something stirs his stomach. Most of it is darker, dried, but the puddle around him is only half-congealed.

He leans forwards, and grimaces. In the center of the bath, a message is scrawled in blood:

“Play me”.

A long, jagged arrow points to the center of the bath. Tangled in a mess of frayed wires is a single screen, slightly larger than a PADD. Dried fingerprints. For a split second, Jim considers showing his discovery to the others, but the moment passes.

He reaches over, and turns it on. It crackles to life. A video is already queued, and it plays automatically. He fumbles with the screen, almost drops it, because- the person on the recording- is him. He looks different on the recording, though. The saturation of green, washing him out; the strange way he watches the camera. An almost alien confidence.

“Now, I know what you’re thinking,” the recording says, with a smile. “You don’t remember making this video. But, I assure you; you did.” He glances away for a moment, somewhere offscreen, and his voice softens. “It should be safe- he never comes in here.” He straightens up, and turns back to the camera. “But, I’m getting ahead of myself.”

Jim frowns as the figure on-screen reaches for something unseen.

“Now, don’t panic,” says the recording. “I want you to remain completely calm.” There’s a glint of metal.

His eyes widen.

“Everything is going to be alright,” the recording says. He holds a hand out, flat, and raises the other. In one, quick motion, he brings the axe down. Thud. A wet, tumbling sound. A muffled moan, and a hiss. The sound distorts further as the camera is knocked to the floor, pointing up at the ceiling, and the screen is flooded by the bright, overpowering green.

Scuffling. A grunt of pain, then relief. The video shakes, and continues to tremble as the angle shifts, spins, and suddenly steadies. Jim notes the space where the trail of bloodstains ends. When he was recording, he must have placed it on the end of the bath.

His recorded-self blinks, and exhales shakily. His right hand is now wrapped in a towel; soaked through quickly by blood.

Jim stares down at his own hands. There’s not a scratch on them, and he still has all ten digits.

Past-Jim exhales, his face drawn with pain, and gives him a shaky smile. “Now that I have your attention,” he says, “Let’s start at the beginning.”

[INSERT: IMAGE: “Divider green knife”]

On the outskirts of Mars Colony Alpha is a large, concrete complex no-one discusses. A majority of the structure is buried beneath the surface, untold levels stretching beneath the dirt. Somewhere on the ground floor, James Kirk is onto his third book of the day. For the most part, he measures the days in books, and not the even, unbroken schedule of the guards.

The gymnasium is about the size of an indoor tennis court, claustrophobic walls painted shades of beige and grey which don’t quite agree with each other. The tops of the walls are set with small glass observation windows, the glass tinted just enough that you can’t be sure when someone’s watching you.

Some of the other inmates have formed small cliques, and Jim is reminded uncannily of high school. For his part, he keeps to himself, and takes up a space by one of the rowing machines. He’s so accustomed to ignoring the watchful gaze of the guards that it’s easy to pretend he doesn’t see the eyes across the room, studying him.

At lunch, it’s the same. He eats quickly, and keeps one eye on his stalker. He’s certain he hasn’t seen him before. Judging from the eyebrows, he could be Romulan, though it’s impossible to tell for certain, as his ears are hidden by long, dark hair. Still, Jim thinks, it’d be unusual to keep a prisoner of war on this level; most of the people here are ex-starfleet.

On the way out of the dining hall, he doubles back on himself, and slams into the man. He grunts, and Jim keeps walking, until he has him backed into a wall.

“Why are you following me?” He hisses.

The man tilts his head and stares down at him serenely, his dark eyes glittering. His hair goes just past his shoulders, and has a slightly silky quality. Up close, he can see that the man lacks the forehead ridges typical of Romulans- it’s far more likely that he’s a Vulcan. Jim slumps a little, his grip growing slack, but the man doesn’t move a muscle.

“Hey!” A guard yells.

Jim releases him with a blink, and turns on his heel.

Footsteps follow him down the corridor.

“That was not an invitation to continue,” Jim says over his shoulder.

“I assumed you wanted an answer.”

“Well, you know…” He walks faster. “A little mystery brightens my day.”

“In that case, I apologise in advance for depriving you of your entertainment.” The man keeps astride of him easily, and Jim grits his teeth.

“Don’t worry, you get used to it around here.”

“Mm. A man of your talents must get bored easily.”

The corridor splits in two, and Jim takes the left path. “And which talents would those be?”

The man raises an eyebrow. “Your skill for decoding.”

“I’m flattered,” he laughs, “Though, that’s not what the academy called it.”

“Indeed. The academy had remarkably low tolerance for practical jokes.”

Jim slows. “Well, that all depends on the effectiveness of the joke.”

“Yes. Or, how well you cover your tracks.”

Jim snorts. “Well… Hypothetically speaking, of course-” he lowers his voice. “Why would you come to me? I wouldn’t be here if I was any good at that.”

“To respond in terms which are equally hypothetical- it is not a mistake you are likely to make again.”

“Ah; I get it-” a guard passes them in the corridor, and Jim gives them a cheery smile. “You want me to join the prison’s cipher team.”

The man nods. “That is correct. Though, the latest series of-” another guard passes- “Recreational puzzles would be presented to us in Klingon.”

Jim shrugs. “It’s possible, but I’d suggest a xenolinguist, instead.”

“Our search is limited to the confines of the prison-”

“Of course,” Jim gives him a searching smile. “You are an inmate, after all.”

“I always endeavour to remain discreet.”

“Oh; that’s a useful skill,” he comments, as they climb the steps to the dorm areas. “You’ll have to teach me some time.”

“If you’d like.” They climb the rest of the stairway in silence. At the top, the man lowers his voice. “It is unfortunate, when the government which incarcerates you falls.”

“And why’s that?” Jim breathes.

He quirks an eyebrow. “There’s no one left to overturn the ruling.”

“That’s true,” Jim murmurs, and heads for his door. “But I’ve only got three months left, and then I’m out of here-”

The man blocks his path. “Or, you could get out of here tonight.” He tilts his head a little, studying Jim intensely.

“What?” The corner of his mouth twitches. “With you and the cipher team?”

The man gives the slightest nod, and Jim considers it for a moment. It’s almost tempting. But, ultimately, whether he gets out today or tomorrow, there’s not much waiting for him outside.

He steps around him with an awkward smile. “Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you-” he pushes the door open, and steps inside. “But it seems that rumours of my intelligence have been greatly exaggerated.”

The man remains silent, yet there’s a flicker of amusement in his eyes.

“… Though, I’m still smart enough to do this.” Jim says in a breathy whisper, as he swings the door shut.

At evening’s meal, Jim once again feels a pair of eyes on him, and pays firm attention to his plate. The main structure of the meal greatly resembles beets, and- if he concentrates enough- almost tastes like it. Still, his attention is split, and, when he next glances up, the man is no longer there.

He frowns, and spears one of the roots.

And sees something from the corner of his eye.

He sits bolt upright, sliding backwards along the bench with a prologued glare at his unexpected visitor. The man is back; watching him with unsettling intensity.

“You move fast,” Jim grumbles, and quickly stuffs his mouth to excuse himself from conversation.

“Yes.” Not completely without manners, he remains standing; his hands behind his back in a posture which looks strangely familiar. It hits him suddenly, and he tilts his head at the man. At ease, he thinks, with a reluctant nod to the seat opposite.

He sits.

Jim swallows, and lowers his fork. “Let me guess,” he says, dully. “Your cipher team’s still one person short.”

The man nods, his face carefully neutral. “Our team leader will be disappointed.”

Something stirs in Jim’s stomach, and it’s not just dubious beets. “And… What happens then?”

The man almost smiles. “You need not concern yourself with it.”

“Uh huh.” Jim tries to remind himself to stay out of it. “But you didn’t come here to make small talk.”

“No.”

“You’re here to try and persuade me again.”

He blinks at him. A silent question.

“You’re going to tell me to

The man inclines his head. “I sound convincing so far.”

“I-” Jim laughs. “Son of a bitch.” He sits back in his seat. “That’s been your tactic all along,” he realises. “You were going to get me to talk myself into it.”

"It is not a tactic. You simply anticipated my arguments before I could state them.”

“And, if I hadn’t done that?”

He considers for a moment. “I would have attempted to make you see the logic in joining me.”

“Right,” Jim straightens up in his chair a bit. “You are a Vulcan, after all.”

The man holds his gaze for a moment, then raises an eyebrow. “Is that enough to persuade you?”

Jim smirks. “Maybe. But you know more about me than I do about you- I don’t even know your name.”

“Spock.”

“Jim. But; you knew that.” He smiles, and sets his hands on the table with a slap. “How many people are on your... Cipher team?” The cafeteria is busy enough that they could talk openly, but Jim enjoys the slow-blinks Spock gives him when faced with unexpected information.

“Two,” he says, finally.

Jim stares at him. He studies his expression for a trace of the humour he saw before, but, apparently, the man is deadly serious.

Jim leans forward. “Granted, I don’t know the nature of the puzzles you’re dealing with, but-” he lowers his voice “- That doesn’t sound like nearly enough.”

“You will only be present for part of the operation.”

“Alright. So how many people are involved in the entire operation?”

“That is a discreet matter.”

“As, I suppose, is the question of who you’re working for.”

Spock nods.

“Discreet.” Jim repeats, as he gives him an unsubtle once-over. “And they sent... You?”

“I am capable of remaining inconspicuous,” Spock says, with the slightest smile.

“Maybe so, but that doesn’t mean people won’t notice you.”

Spock frowns. “To what are you referring?”

Jim smiles, coyly. “I’m afraid that’s a discreet matter.”

Spock stares at the table for a moment, expression unreadable.

“You want to know if you can trust me,” he says, finally.

“Yes.”

“You can’t.”

Jim gives an amused huff. “That’s not a very convincing argument.”

“Nevertheless, it is the truth.”

“I get it. You prove your honesty, I trust you, I leave with you.”

“I am not attempting to manipulate you; I am simply running out of time.”

Jim frowns.

Spock’s hands shift slightly under the table. “My partner, Leland, is breaking me out tonight- me, and the best hacker I can find.”

Jim sits back “And, to think: I thought you chose me specially.”

A breathy, almost-laugh. “He did.”

“I’m flattered.”

He watches Jim. “I…” He jerks his head. “Was not supposed to offer you a choice in the matter.”

“… Less flattered,” Jim murmurs, as his eyes dart to Spock’s hands.

Spock’s mouth twitches, and he lays them flat on the table. “I have no weapons.,” he assures him.

Jim lets out a breath. “Do you need any?”

“Well-”

The cafeteria is plunged into pitch darkness. A murmur reverberates around them, and someone yells. Jim grabs at the table with one hand, and reaches into his pocket with the other. He searches for the familiar, smooth blade handle.

It’s not there. His heart pounds faster. It’s in my quarters, he realises, trying to stave off a blind panic.

After a moment, the emergency lights flicker on: a bright, unrelenting red.

Spock tenses, his face bathed in the light, and he stares at Jim helplessly.

“It’s okay,” Jim places a hand on his arm. “It’s just a power cut.”

“No; it’s not.” Spock stands, suddenly, and surveys the hall. His grip is tight on the back of the chair. “It’s Leland. Stay here.”

He takes a step forwards. Chair legs scrape as Jim scrambles to his feet. “Where are you going?” He hisses.

Spock fixes him with a look. “To stop him from killing anyone.”

“What-?”

“Return to your rooms!” Bellows a guard.

Jim turns, but Spock has already disappeared. Cursing, he hurries in the direction he left, being buffeted between the crowd. He weaves his way down the corridor, and the lights begin to flicker overhead. He curses, and moves faster.

The lights fail as he’s half-way up the stairs, and he grips the handrail for support. The only source of light which remains are strips of bioluminescent paint which line the floor, tingeing everything in a faint blue-green. He stumbles to the top of the stairs. The few people who had returned to their cells wander out again, muttering amongst themselves, and the guards are nowhere to be seen. Jim reaches his room, out of breath, and leans against the wall, gasping.

He should just stay here. He should just lie on his bed, and wait for the situation to be resolved. Instead, he reaches into his mattress, and retrieves the small, fold-out knife. He runs his fingers over the handle for a moment, and then slips it into the pocket of his jumpsuit.

Downstairs, Jim skims his hand along the wall, to help navigate the pockets of darkness. The material is unusually coarse, like concrete with too many air bubbles trapped inside it, and there’s a scream up ahead. Heart pounding, he begins to move a little faster, passing the usually-secure area around the turbolift. Three inmates are clustered around it: two humans and an Andorian, bickering amongst themselves as they attempt to rewire the lock.

There’s shouting up ahead.

A guard stumbles into view, shouldering a phaser rifle. Jim freezes- but their attention is elsewhere, staring at something unseen. A yell echoes down the corridor, and it’s lit up by a flash of red, then blue, as the guard falls to the floor.

Jim grits his teeth, and he pokes his head round the corner.

The corridor is covered in debris, flakes of plaster and brick which used to be the exterior wall. At the other end of the corridor, guards and escapees are firing at each other indiscriminately, and Jim doesn’t stick around long enough to find out if the weapons are set for stun. He simply retrieves a flashlight from the fallen guard, and slips through the gap in the wall, out into the self-contained atmosphere of the prison dome.

Outside, an alarm blares. His nose wrinkles. The air is thinner here, and slightly metallic. Recycled. He begins to walk uphill, figuring that the slight incline will help him find Spock- if that’s still his goal. Still, he doesn’t see how he’s going to make it much further without him.

Still moving, he cranes his neck upwards. In the darkness, it’s hard to tell- the flashlight beam won’t reach that far- but he can just make out a large hole in the glass above him.

As if someone has smashed their way in.

The gap has been sealed by the self-repair protocol: a thick layer of fast-drying plastiform. He picks up the pace, pointing his flashlight at the ground as he comes over the crest of the hill-

A runs bang-slap into the side of a dark grey shuttle.

“Drop the weapon!” A voice growls behind him.

Jim blinks, and steps back from the metal surface. “No… It’s just a flashlight,” he stammers.

Something is pressed to the back of his head. The barrel of a phaser.

“Then drop the flashlight,” the voice growls. “A phaser blast at this range… That’s not something you come back from.”

The flashlight slips from his hands, and his heart pounds. He turns his head slowly.

“Don’t move.”

In the glare of the shuttle lights, Jim can’t see much, but he can just make out a pair of eyes, staring him down.

“Leland-?” Jim realises, as something hard crashes into the back of his head, and he crumples to the ground.

Jim wakes up at the back of the shuttle, lying on one of the stiff benches Starfleet was fond of calling ‘beds’. His head throbs, and he pushes himself up on his elbows with a slight groan. “What…?”

As he sits up, a thin blanket tumbles from his shoulders, and he feels immediately colder. Spock sits in one of the seats facing him, his gaze fixed on the wall, and Leland sits in the pilot’s seat. Jim stares at the back of his head, eyes bleary. He has short, dark brown hair, and a dark grey uniform.

Leland turns to him, and Jim spots a dark Starfleet badge on the front of his shirt. He throws Spock a questioning look, but he keeps his eyes fixed straight ahead, his lips pursed.

Leland smiles. “Hey, Jimbo-”

“It’s Jim.”

“- James,” Leland waves a hand. “I’m sorry about pointing a phaser at you back there.”

Jim gives him an awkward nod. “It’s… fine. But-” He rubs the back of his head. “You do know those things have a stun setting, right?”

Leland smiles. “Well; I had no idea who you were.” He glances at Spock. “Tell him.”

Spock looks up. “He had no idea who you were,” he says, robotically.

“… It’s okay.” Jim glances between them, trying to work out the shift in the atmosphere while still nursing a headache.

“It’s not okay!” Leland insists. “We’re a team now, so we’ve got to trust each other.”

Jim closes his eyes. “Yeah, sounds good,” He murmurs. He leans his head back against the wall.

“Really?” Leland asks. “Because you don’t sound that enthusiastic.”

“I’m just-”

Leland snaps his fingers twice. “Spock?”

“You don’t sound that enthusiastic,” Spock says, dutifully.

“Alright,” Jim exhales, and glowers at him. “It’s just: if we’re a team, then I’d prefer to know who I’m working with. I mean; you can’t be Starfleet.”

Leland turns back to the viewscreen, and fixes his gaze on space.

“Or, maybe you could tell me what we’re doing-?”

“Relax. I’ll tell you the specifics when you get there.”

“But-”

Leland begins to hum to himself, and Jim’s gaze flicks to Spock. He, too, remains silent.

He surveys the shuttle. There are about six seats in total- seven if you count the bench- and everything is a dark grey. Whoever designed the interior was a utilitarian, not an artist.

There’s a pile of clothes at the back of the shuttle, and Jim notes that Spock, too, has changed into what appears to be a modified Starfleet uniform. He doesn’t recognise the badge, and wonders if they can really have gone through such an extensive redesign in six months. It’s sleek, all-black, identical to the one Leland is wearing. The last he’d heard, Starfleet didn’t even exist anymore.

He rifles through the pile of clothes at the back of the shuttle, and changes into a pair of jeans and a red plaid jacket, feeling immediately warmer. As he swaps out the grey jumpsuit, he removes the knife from it, and slips it into his jeans pocket instead. Spock watches this without comment, but quickly looks away when Jim meets his eyes

Jim studies the tense way that Spock holds himself. His hands are tucked away, arms folded just a little too tight across his chest. The shuttle’s internal temperature is probably only programmed to account for human standards, and he knows Vulcans are accustomed to warmer temperatures. Wordlessly, he reaches for the fallen blanket, and holds it out to him. Spock stiffens, and fixes his eyes on it. He doesn’t seem to want to make the first move. Jim leans forwards, and drapes the blanket over his shoulders in one smooth motion.

Jim drifts off. When he next wakes up, the ship is orbiting a purple-blue planet covered in rivers and forests. The readout says it’s M-Class, but it appears to be deserted- no civilisation of any kind, with the exception of one, very faint, signal.

“What is this planet?” Jim asks.

Leland barely looks up. “Heirin.”

“I’ve never heard of it.”

“You wouldn’t have. This is Klingon space.” He nods to something out of the port window. “There’s an outpost on that moon which monitors most of the traffic in this system.”

Jim looks up sharply. “And they just let us wander in?”

“The magnetic disturbance from the asteroid belt on the other side of the system should have masked our signatures. Besides; they’re not on the look out for a little ship like this.”

Jim searches the skies in the direction indicated. “Let me guess; this is going to be our little hacking project?”

Leland gives him a look. “We want you to shut down the outpost via remote link. Heirin is just going to be our base of operations.” He grins, and sets the shuttle on a landing path on the night-side of the planet. Jim watches the tops of the purple-leaved trees get closer, and

“And, when the Klingons find out about it?” Jim asks.

“Relax. It’ll be a long time before they can find someone brave enough to investigate.”

Jim folds his arms. “Klingons aren’t famous for their cowardice.”

“No, they’re not,” Leland hums. “But, for this planet, they’d make an exception.”

The shuttle continues to descend, flying over the purple-leaved trees and passing over vast swathes of pink fields. They cross over a wide river, flying low over a forest which looks distinctly greener than the others they’ve passed so far. Up ahead, a tall structure rises from the trees.

It’s three three stories tall, and made mostly of dark metal. A gap in the center suggests that part of the building has since fallen away. They land in a clearing, to the right of it. Jim steps out of the shuttle, and surveys it from this new angle, as Leland and Spock unload a case of supplies from the back.

“Where’s the server room?” Jim asks.

Leland arches an eyebrow. “You don’t need to see it yet. Relax a little.”

“Right… but you do have one, right? This place looks pretty broken down, and I can’t hack a Klingon outpost from this distance with your shuttle alone, no matter how high-tech it is.”

Leland stares at him for a moment, his expression suddenly sombre. “If I told you where it was, what’s to stop you from shooting me?”

Jim gives a little huff of laughter. “I can think of many reasons, Leland, but number one would be: I don’t even have a phaser.”

Leland laughs in return. “Yeah?” He hands him one. “Well, you do now.”

Jim stares down at his hands in surprise as Leland begins to move towards the stronghold, whistling.

‘What the fuck is wrong with him?’ Jim mouths, but Spock only stares at him.

“Cosy,” Jim comments, as he hauls the first crate into the central hall. Everything about the stronghold speaks to Klingon architecture, but the interior has clearly been redecorated by humans. Large rugs and carpets cover sections of the floor. A wide sofa and two arm chairs sit on one side of the room, with a dining table on the other side.

He prises the top off one of the crates, and peers inside. It contains numerous phaser power-packs. “I don’t think we’ll be needing all of these,” he says, with a nod to the far wall.

An innumerable collection of weapons adorn them, of Terran and Klingon origin. They’re assembled with seemingly little order, hung at irregular intervals by nails hammered into the wall. Five bat’leth’s, a crossbow with a laser, and a gin'tak spear. There are others, too- Romulan, Andorian- things he can’t quite place.

“Whoever was here left in a hurry,” Jim says.

“Or, they never left at all.” Spock says quietly.

On the opposite wall is a large fireplace, comprised of neat, pink stone. The Mantelpiece almost looks like granite, although it’s much smoother. The material is probably local. A single staircase stands to the left of the fireplace, ascending through to the next level. The dining table sits to the left of this, just in front of the windows.

Jim wanders through a set of glass doors, and out onto the balcony.

A Veranda wraps around the second level of the stronghold, seemingly an afterthought: unlike the rest of the building, it is fashioned from a pale, beige wood. It doesn’t resemble any of the trees he’s seen on the planet so far, and he wonders if it’s been imported. He could almost believe it was built by humans, but the pillars follow the trappings of Klingon architecture: angular, wooden supports, slotted into reinforced bases. Still, it could all have been done in an attempt to mimic the existing styles. The one anomaly is a single, spiral staircase just off the center of the platform.

He keeps walking until he gets to the end of the allotted area. There’s a second, smaller communal area attached to the Veranda, fashioned from the same imported wood. Tattered banners adorn the walls, a dusky red: The emblem of the Klingon empire. Three triangular spikes jut out of a ring of white, and Jim stares at the symbol, rooted to the spot, realising for the first time that he’s deep in enemy territory.

In front of the flags is an alcove, which someone has evidently attempted to make comfortable by adding flimsy red cushions. Still, if this was intended as a place to sleep, he can’t imagine it would suffice, because, despite all its comforts- and the ceiling overhead- it is still, technically, exposed to the elements.

There are more pillars laid out in front of the alcoves. As he goes further into the area, his eyes widen, and he stops walking.

“Leland?” He calls over his shoulder.

There are footsteps as Leland approaches, and surveys the carnage in silence.

Blood stains the base of the pillar, some red, some magenta, and the cushions have been scratched up. There are places where the furnishings have been ripped away entirely, and one of the cushions is a deeper red than the others; a carpet placed over a strategic place on the floor. A single blade lies on one of the scuffed-up cushions. It’s Klingon: the blade is shaped like an arrow, with a decorative line cut out of the center. A d’k tahg.

Leland approaches it with interest, and Jim spies a bloody handprint on the wall.

“I thought you said The Klingons never came here,” Jim breathes.

“Worried?” Leland grins, and reaches for the discarded d'k tahg. He twirls it between his fingers before adding it to his belt, a glint in his eye. “Don’t worry; by the time we catch their attention, you’ll be gone.” He claps him on the shoulder, and moves back along the balcony. Jim breathes shallowly, the feeling of foreboding intensifying.

They return to the shuttle via the spiral staircase, and finish unloading the supplies. Everything comes in unmarked boxes, but Jim assumes that the rest of this must be food- although, if anyone is the type to pack more ammunition than food, it’s Leland.

Jim leans on a crate. “You still haven’t told us what this place is, exactly.”

Leland shrugs. “I thought it was self-evident: An abandoned Klingon stronghold.”

“But why is it abandoned? They can’t have forgotten about it,” he says, with a nod to the pylon on the roof.

Leland grins. “The Klingon’s know about it, but they avoid this planet like the plague. There are a lot of… Superstitions attached to this place,” he says, cryptically.

“What; are you going to tell us a scary story?” Jim folds his arms.

Leland smiles. “I might. But you’d need to gather some firewood... Scary stories are best told around a campfire.”

Jim hesitates, and thinks of the nice, warm-looking fireplace in the cabin. Still, he wouldn’t mind the chance to explore- and to get away from Leland for a while.

“Fine.”

Spock stands stiffly, perhaps from the cold, and Leland turns to him. “Go with him, Spock. Make sure he doesn’t get… Lost.”

Jim spreads his arms wide. “It’s a big planet. Where am I gonna go?” He bellows over his shoulder. His voice echoes off the trees.

The bark of the trees here are tall and green, and he’s reminded, suddenly, of the moss back on Earth. The thought is accompanied by a familiar gut-punch, so he instead focuses on the plant life which surrounds them. The trees are surprisingly thin, despite their great height. He’s so busy craning his neck that he stumbles on something hard. He braces himself on a nearby tree, and Spock comes to a sudden stop behind him. The rock he tripped on is covered in a thin layer of bioluminescent fungus. The mushroom itself is a bright, sickly shade of green, though the light that it emits is more pleasant, soft lime.

Behind him, Spock shuffles restlessly, so Jim steps to the side. They make fleeting eye-contact as Spock takes the lead, treading a path through the untouched undergrowth. Though he’d never admit it, Jim feels a small thrill of adventure. He remembers the days when he wanted to join Starfleet; the promise of exploring the unknown too tempting to resist- before The Unknown came to kick their ass.

Jim watches the back of Spock’s head, and wonders what’s going on in there. The man he’d met on Mars Colony and the man in the shuttle were two very different people, which he’d initially blamed on Leland’s influence. Still, there’s something unsettling about Spock’s continued silence.

“So, tell me,” Jim says. “Why were you in that prison? Leland couldn’t do his own dirty work?”

Spock barely glances at him. “He would have been recognised.”

“I’m sure.” Jim trots alongside him. “But, you being in there- that wasn’t just a cover, was it?” He studies Spock’s profile as they walk, trying to work out how close he is to the truth.

A cyan light shines off Spock’s face, and still, he says nothing.

“C’mon,” Jim swipes a branch out of the way. “A guy like you should have made Captain in what, five years, maybe six?”

Twigs snap underfoot.

“That was your goal, was it not?” Spock says, finally. “To become the youngest Captain in Starfleet history, on a bet?”

Jim straightens up a little. “How did you know-?”

“-And the reason you thought it necessary to cheat on The Kobayashi Maru.” He raises a brow pointedly, and sets off towards the woods at a fast march.

Jim slides on loose stones as he hurries after him. “You knew Captain Pike,” he realises.

“Yes.”

“So, it wasn’t your aspirations which landed you here. A mistake, then?” A branch catches in Spock’s hair, and ricochets back into Jim’s face. “Ow!” He hisses.

Spock glances back. “A mistake.”

Jim glowers at the back of his head, and rubs his jaw. “I’ll say,” he mutters.

“Perhaps-” Spock halts without warning “-We are both here for reasons outside our control.”

Jim rubs his nose.

“- As you said earlier; it is a big planet.” Spock turns to him. “Big enough that it is not entirely inconceivable that you could make it back to the shuttle without Leland’s notice.”

Jim blinks at him. “I’d need the keys for that,” he says, finally.

“You would,” Spock says, neutrally. “And you would find them, in my pocket.”

“I wouldn’t get very far.”

“Perhaps. But, the treatment Klingons give their prisoners is likely to be kinder than Leland’s.” He turns to keep walking, but Jim grabs his elbow.

“And, what; you want me to strand you here with him?”

“Preferably not. But, whoever leaves will have a greater chance of escape as long as the other keeps him distracted.”

“Then- why not you?”

“I am responsible for bringing you here.”

He chuckles softly. “Perhaps. But I chose to come. And I’m not leaving without you.”

His eyes dart to him. “Then you are a fool.”

Jim grins. “And I thought it was obvious.”

[Front Cover] [chapter 1] [Chapter 2]

#star trek fic #tomorrow never comes #spirk fic #spirk #star trek aos

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opalai-pixel-witch · 3 years

Text

Hiiiiiii!!!! ^^

Helloooooo! ^____^ I’m all right, I hope you’re doing well too!

–For now, yes! I sent a project and they finally accepted it! :D

Hmm, that does make more sense :o Although…Pesto skating could potentially be super cool >u>

–If it was up to me, Pesto would be great all over XD

I have doubts about that, because unlike the others, she has a clear passion: playing the bass

One of my headcannons for Pesto is that she has anxiety, so I think that fits in well with her ^_^ You might also recall the Bear Death chase sequence in the game: “There are fates worse than death, Bjoharn! Like unimaginable pain or going far far away for a long long time! You don’t wanna risk it!”

–Ja ja ja , that part seemed funny to me until she leaves me saying: Good luck getting mauled!

And me like: EY! HELP MEEEEE!!! D:

And yes, she fears that, but she exaggerates saying that she is going to die, after all, her minor wounds heal very quickly

I imagine her grabbing Death’s head, covering his eyes without noticing it, telling him to slow down cuz they are going to die

Death like: P, we’re already dead but we’re going to crash if you don’t let me see THE WAY!!!

Oh yeah, that’s the reason why I’ve been avoiding dA lately =A= Eclipse is the most inconvenient, hideous, and just absolutely horrid website design I’ve ever had the unfortunate displeasure of experiencing in my life. But they don’t even censor NSFW stuff anymore? What a complete mess >:| I only go there for this one webcomic I follow nowadays :P

–I don’t use DA as before, I would say it’s currently deserted; I check fanarts from time to time and also read some web comics too, also I read some comics in Webtoons ;)

Speaking about DA:

https://sta.sh/22aj2xyaqwj3?edit=1

;)

…OH HOLY GOSH DARN!! I love love love love love that picture of Milky and co.!!!! ♡♡♡♡ I’m guessing the lady behind him is Bat-Dung? And I wonder what Salmon Guy’s doing there o.o But oh my gosh Milkyyyy…pardon me, I’m in love |D

–I’m glad you liked them, and yes, I wanted almost the whole team, so I invented an image for Bat-Dug based on her voice and on the fact she investigate the paranormal, also what role she could play in the team: I assigned her to provides weapons and special equipment to her mates, and repairs technology ;)

I would have put Red Eye, but my story takes place after the events of MS and HH

And Salmon guy is there because Milky and company went after him (I’m still writing this story, it’s harder than I thought, I usually don’t write stories) ^^;

I just figured that Bjørn would probably be more used to writing in runes, or maybe did it as an inside joke o: I don’t think Pesto knows how to read it, but she didn’t really need to in order to know the gift was for her—but later on she might see the tag with the runes and be all faux-annoyed like “Bjoharn you cheeky little—“ |D

–“Bjoharn you cheeky little—“ *insert wheze meme* X,D

I’m imagining that scene from the simpsons where Flanders leaves Homer and Co at his summer house and left them little notes everywhere, but with Bjorn and Pesto instead.

Pesto would be like: To hell with this! >:v

--------

Heya!! I’m so sorry it took me a while to get to this message, college and real life stuff has been kicking my ass ;;_;; I’m glad to hear that things are going well for you!!

I mean...isn’t she? |D Jokes aside I agree with you, since the only talk of skating she’d done in the game was casually acknowledging the others’ obsession with it :P Still, I am super tempted to draw Pesto skating at some point >.>

That part always makes me nervous ;A; Pesto, I’ll never forgive you if you leave my son to die!! >:| (...let’s just...ignore the fact that he’s already dead...)

That reminds me of a weird headcannon I’ve been thinking about—I feel like with her being in charge of diseases and stuff, she has the power to remove an illness along with her ability to inflict it :o Maybe I’m just being dumb, but I thought it’d be cool...and yeah, I can totally picture that |D I dunno if I’d label the horsemen as dead though, I think they’re just some weird immortal entities :P

If dA is becoming deserted now, that only means their Eclipse scheme has failed =A= I wonder how long they’ve been banging their heads against the wall in regret...I’ve also been looking at comics on Webtoons lately, my favorite one there is probably Clinic of Horrors :o

Your new drawings are (as always) sooo cool!!!! O.O War looks super badass, and the one with Death casually approaching Sam is funny |D I also love the comic with his dad and Cobbles, the “you will have to believe me” line made me lose it >o>

I see o: I can definitely picture her as the weapons-handler of the group! Odd thing, though—I don’t think Milky actually had any weapons in the game...unless his pockets are somehow bottomless and he keeps them in there :P I can also see the motivation for them going after Salmon Guy—after all, he has encountered one of the horsemen firsthand! The best witness for them would be Sam with all his new info, but of course because he’s the ultimate rich kid it would be super difficult for them to get to him |D

Haha yeah, Pesto would have to go to that Valhyr site constantly to translate everything >u>

#submission #dani

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buckystories-3 · 5 years

Text

Remember

Chapter 2

Chapter 1 here

A/N: Here is part 2! Sorry it took me so long, I am in my senior year at university and I have so many tests and homework. Please let me know if you guys like it. Should I continue with the series? Let me know!

Warnings: Cursing

I didn’t see the winter soldier anymore. Days had passed slowly, with the only measurement of time I had was the once-a-day meal delivered by a random soldier. I wonder why he never came back, I wanted to tell him the medication helped. I wanted to see his blue eyes again. I tried to remember him, even though he told me not to, but all I found in my brain was a wall and a painful headache. The door to the cell opened interrupting my thoughts. Three soldiers walked in, cornering me in my cell, the rough cement cold against my back.

“What’s going on?” I asked. They didn’t answer, instead grabbing my arms and lifting me to walk. I didn’t fight, I knew that would just make it worse for myself, and I was still in pain from my last act of ‘disobedience’. We walked down the dark halls, then up a long staircase. They dragged me to a lab, one I hadn’t ever been in. It was full of men wearing lab coats, some watching me, some working on different machines. The soldiers dragged me to the middle of the room to a metal bed with a thin plastic mattress, cuffs on the top and bottom, this made me nervous. In the corner I could see the Hydra leader talking to one of the scientists. Next to him, carefully watching me with those blue eyes, stood the winter soldier. His muscular arms crossed against his broad chest, I couldn’t look away, not until a soldier shoved me snapping my attention back to them.

“707 get on the bed.” the soldier ordered me, slightly raising his gun as a threat. I looked around confused, panic began to set in as I slowly climbed on the bed, the plastic cold against the thin material of my clothes. I was yanked down by my shoulders and my body kicked into fight or flight. I struggled against the arms, but more grabbed onto my and tugged my wrists and ankles into the padded cuffs.

“What the hell are you doing! Let me go!” I screamed, yanking on the cuffs. No one even flinched, the scientist kept working, the soldiers moved to stand next to him, his jaw clenched as he looked away from me. The Leader approached me, arms crossed behind his body.

“707 today we will begin our journey. You are being given an opportunity, one that many have died for. But you, 707, you have potential. You will be Hydra’s future, you will be a new type of soldier. You will bring a new era to Hydra, one where we will defeat the avengers.” He spoke clearly, calmly, and confidently. My mind clouded with confusion and questions, what was he talking about?

“Lieut. Himmel, we are ready to begin.” a scientist interrupted.

“707 I hope you survive. Let’s get started.” he announced and walked away from me. Scientist began to work quickly, turning machines on, connecting cords to my head. Two scientists inserted needles on both my arms, I remember it being called an I.V. Two soldiers moved forward carrying a large black case, the set in on a table near me and a scientist opened it slowly. I couldn’t see clearly what was in it, but I could see a bright red glow around the case. Everyone stopped moving, all attention was turned to the man, slowly and carefully lifting two vials that were glowing with a red chemical. Two other men sucked the liquid into their needles, and turned to me.

“What is that?” I asked scared, but no one answered, they just talked amongst themselves. They moved to the small tubes that led into my veins and injected the liquid. I watched it run through the tubes and into my arm. At first I felt nothing, all eyes watched me, waiting. I searched for blue eyes, and the found mine, I saw fear, but I wasn’t sure if it was his or a reflection of mine. Slowly heat crawled up my body, it grew and became uncomfortable.

“It’s hot, please, stop the heat” I said urgently, the lines on the machines grew bigger and so did the heat.

“Please! It’s burning me!” I yelled, It felt like acid was coursing through my body, every second burning hotter, I thought holes would form on my skin for the heat to escape. The heat grew too strong and I couldn’t control myself anymore! I screamed as the fire burned up my throat consuming my completely. My head slammed back and I tried to rip my arms out to put the four out, to rip my veins, anything to make it stop. No sound was heard in the room except my piercing screams and the cuffs banging on the metal

“Please! Make it STOP, Can’t you see I’m on fire!” I cried out, something strange began to control my body. It was like something crawled in and shook my body, I shook hard.

“She’s convulsing! Her heart rate is dropping.” I heard someone say. Light dimmed around my eyes, and I felt myself become disconnected from my body, finally out of pain and into blissful sleep.

_________________________________

A constant beeping was the first thing I heard. Pain pulsed in my head, but I opened my eyes anyway. I was in a new cell with medical equipment around me. The needles in my arms were gone, and a thin blanket covered my body. The bed I was on felt bumpy, and light flickered above me causing my head to hurt more. Two scientists entered the cell holding clipboards and looking at the machines.

“Glad to see you’re alive 707, we thought we wasted our only try on you. We lost you there for a minute but got you back, no damage as far as we can see.” The shorter one said to me, his beady eyes looking at the papers in his clipboard. What happened? I tried to remember and memories of the burning flashed in my head, I closed my eyes in pain and I could feel a tingle in my hands.

“Incredible.” I opened my eyes and the two men were looking at me, more accurately at my hands. They were were glowing red, and items from the room were floating in the air surrounded by a small bursts of the same red glow from my hands. I moved my hands slightly and the objects moved in the same direction. I clenched my hands into fists and objects dropped to the floor.

“Go tell Lieut. Himmel the experiment was successful.” the taller one ordered his partner.

“What did you do to me! What did you do!” I screamed and in a flash the scalpel from the table flew into one of the man's throat, he dropped instantly and I could hear his blood gurgling in his mouth. The other man stared at me in panic, medical tubing rose up behind him and red glowed from my hands, I smiled, the tubing wrapped tightly around his throat as he desperately gasped, clawing at the tube before dropping to the floor. The door burst open the leader stepped in.

“ 707 stand down.” Himmel said. I expected him to be afraid, or at least surprised to see two of his employees dead on the floor, but he looked calm.

“What did you do to me you evil son of bitch!” I yanked the blanket off me, and stepped off the bed, walking toward him. I raised my hands, glowing red. He laughed and sat on the edge of my bed, not even hesitating, he was too comfortable with this.

“My child, you are Enhanced now. We created two like you before, the Maximoff twins. We found one to be more powerful than the other. Unfortunately, the boy was killed, such a waste. But the other, she grew too powerful, she is now gone too. Her abilities were too great to waste, we were able to rebirth it, in you.” he said smiling at me. I raised my hands and the scalpel lifted from the scientists throat, I moved it to Himmel’s throat and smiled.

“It seems almost identical to her abilities, incredible 707.” he smiled darkly.

“You’re going to pay for what you did to me.” I said, my hands glowing brightly.

“You won’t kill me.”

“How do you know? I just killed two men not even 10 minutes ago. Why wouldn’t I kill someone who has caused me so much pain.” I said confidently, pushing the blade harder against his throat.

“You won’t kill me because if you hurt me, they have orders to kill the Soldier.” I stopped breathing. I slowly brought my hand down, the scalpel dropping to the floor.

“Why would I care about him.”

“You may not remember him, but he remembers you, and I think there is a tiny part of you that recognizes him, even if your mind doesn’t. Or else you wouldn’t have dropped the blade.” he stood up and walked closer to me. My head dropped low and I felt defeat rush through my body, he was right, I couldn’t let the Soldier pay for my lack of control. No matter how much I wanted to kill Himmel.

“I think we are going to have a great partnership 707, you will do great things for Hydra.” He gently padded the side of my head, and layed a kiss on my head. I flinched out of his grasp.

“Or else he’ll pay.” with that he walked out.

The Image is Wanda, but just showing their powers are the same

Taglist: @animegirlgeeky @typicalangel @reblogging-bucky

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky imagine #bucky barnes imagine #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #winter soldier #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier imagine #hydra #avengers

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chemicalmagecraft · 4 years

Text

Foresight is 20/20 Chapter 1

The village was devastated. So many of the buildings were smashed, and so many people had lost their lives to the Kyubi. Entire squads of ninja were needed to sift through the wreckage for any survivors. It is with two of these ninja that our story starts. "This destruction..." one ninja said. "It's unreal... How could this happen?"

"The nine-tailed demon fox," the other ninja replied brusquely. "That damned fox killed people by stepping on them. What else would happen when it went on a rampage? Now come on, we need to clear this whole sector in an hour."

"Do you hear that?" the first ninja asked. The second ninja stopped talking and listened for a bit.

"Is that... a baby crying?" he said. They both hurried to where the sound seemed to be coming from. A ray of light pierced the clouds to fall down on a blanket on top of a large piece of rubble. One of the ninja lifted up the blanket to reveal... a log. The other ninja rolled his eyes and picked up the baby lying on another piece of rubble. The child, a boy, couldn't have been more than a few months old. He had a thick head of brown hair and dark marks under his eyes. The ninja rocked the baby, and he stopped crying. He opened his hazel eyes and cooed at the sight of the man. "Found the baby. Let's take him to the other survivors. Hopefully one of the survivors is looking for him."

"And if not?"

"Then the kid's going to be in for a rough childhood."

"Well just in case, let's give him a name."

"Kouki."

kukukuku~

I plopped down on my bed and groaned. The last thing I remembered... or I guess one of the last things I remembered, I was doing a writing assignment thinking about how I would totally beat up Jiraiya if I was in Naruto. The other last thing I remembered was one of the caretakers of my orphanage of telling me and some other kids that Naruto is an evil demon child we should never interact with. Really compliant with Sarutobi's law there, Chang. Also there was the fact that I apparently was now three years old and living in a Konohagakure orphanage...

I immediately recognized this as the start of a self-insert fanfiction because I know myself. "Really, Me?" I asked. "You just had to write an SI." If I'm going to be doing this, I'm sooo going to fourth-wall break. "You'd better give me a good reason for knowing the future so I don't get thrown in an insane asylum." I paused. "Does Konoha even have insane asylums? Thinking about it, they don't really seem to have any form of psychological therapy, what with how nobody helped any of the various orphans in Naruto. Or Hinata, for that matter. Where was I again? Oh, right! I could also use a way to refresh myself on the timing of things, Me." I licked my lips. "Well, seems that habit followed me here. I should probably cut down on it or people might think I'm the secret lovechild of Orochimaru and... I don't know, Tsuyu Asui?" I thought about that for a moment and groaned again. "Thanks for that mental image, brain. That was almost as bad as that one horrible dream I had where Naruto and Jiraiya were..." I trailed off, screamed, stood up, and walked to the nearest wall, which I immediately started banging my head on.

As I did that, an older orphan came in the room. "What are you doing?" he asked me.

"Punishing my brain," I stopped to answer.

"Why?"

"Because it needs to be punished."

"O...kay... just... don't hurt yourself?" He walked away, muttering, "Weirdo."

Once I decided that my brain had been punished enough (I took the headache as a sign of surrender), I plopped back down on my bed. "What now?" I said to myself. A leaf drifted through an open window and landed on my forehead. It was at this moment that I realized that I somehow knew how to mold and use chakra to some degree as if it was instinctual. Also my eyes tingled for some reason... "Plus Ultra, I guess." I started channeling chakra into the leaf on my forehead, hoping that I was doing the chakra exercise right.

kukukuku~

I collapsed, water splashing slightly as I fell on its surface. It had been a little over a month and my complete and utter lack of a life and the fact that I was otherwise totally bored without any form of videogames or TV had served me well in my quest for power. Plus the fact that I was somehow totally fine spending more time staying up than I used to in my past life (which, admittedly, was already unhealthily long...), as long as I didn't pull too many all-nighters.

I'd managed to slip off to a secluded area of woods with a lazy and shallow river where I'd spent a great deal of time mercilessly training myself in the ways of sticking leaves to myself, only stopping for a rest and snack break when I started to get tired. At first, I couldn't do too much because, as a small child, my chakra reserves were limited (though I think that my reserves were also higher than they should have been due to me having the mental energy of a teenager instead of a three-year-old). Of course, practice makes perfect, so I soon found myself able to use more chakra at once.

Once I could hold multiple leaves on multiple parts of my body simultaneously for a few seconds, I upgraded to tree climbing. While I didn't have any kunai to mark my progress, I'd figured out how to channel chakra through my fingernails to leave small scratches in the bark without harming my nails, which I ended up calling Cat Claws Jutsu. Once I was able to walk up trees like I was walking on the ground and also stick leaves to myself while doing it, I took a day for rest (chakra exhaustion suuucks) and then started on water walking. That... that involved much more getting wet than I'd like to admit... Eventually, however, I'd managed to get water walking down pat and included leaves in it as well, which is what I had just finished at that point.

I got up, figuring that laying down on the water is probably a bad idea, and got to solid ground before plopping down on the grass. As I did, the leaves that had been clinging to my skin fell off. I pulled out the apple I'd brought as a snack. Mmm, fuji apples. When I was done devouring the fruit, I licked my lips, wrapped the core in the napkin I'd stored it in, and lay there for a bit. I breathed in the nice, Springy air. So far as I knew, the Hi no Kuni was almost constantly warm, which is how it got its name. I certainly wasn't complaining; I like it hot. Once I'd caught my breath and had time to rest, I picked up one of the leaves I'd been using for training. "Time for some advanced training," I said. I sandwiched the leaf between my palms, closed my eyes, and focused. "Two fronts grinding against each other," I thought. Snip. I opened my hands, revealing that the leaf had developed a small cut on it, as if someone had cut it with a pair of scissors. "It's a start," I said.

kukukuku~

When I started with wind chakra, I decided to start doing light exercise not related to chakra. I didn't want to do too much because I had once heard something about lifting weights as a child stunting growth or something. It probably wasn't as big of a problem in a world where Rock friggin Lee can exist, but I still wanted to be careful. I just did some light jogging (while collecting and attempting to cut leaves), sit-ups (while attempting to cut leaves), and push-ups (fun fact: it is very hard to cut leaves with wind chakra while doing push-ups, but not impossible). It was on a jog around the playground near the orphanage that everyone played in that I saw him. A blonde boy with markings on his cheeks sitting alone by a tree. All of the other kids were ignoring him. I was already going to try to befriend Naruto, but now I really wanted to do something. He just... looked sad.

I nonchalantly walked over to the other side of the tree Naruto was sitting at and looked around to see if anyone was looking. When I saw that nobody was, I muttered "Cat Claws Jutsu" and started using my claws to get a good grip on the tree. I could have just used the regular tree walking, but I was trying to be discreet so as to not have people asking why I knew ninja techniques. I did, however, use the tree walking to grip with my feet. Once I was situated on a branch above Naruto, I looked around to see if anyone was looking. It seemed not. Apparently, tree-climbing in a ninja village full of trees named after those trees that was founded by a tree-man is a very uninteresting sight. Who knew? I licked my lips, took a deep breath, and said, "Hi, there," to him. When he looked up, I gave a small but friendly smile and waved. "My name's Kouki, what's yours?" I mean, I already knew his name, but it's not like I could tell him that.

He sniffed and said "Naruto." I noticed that his eyes were all red (not Kyuubi red, irritated red) and puffy. "Why are you here?"

I jumped down, using a light burst of wind chakra to cushion my fall, and said, "Everybody avoids you, so I felt like you might want somebody to play with." I sat down next to him. "People avoid me, too. I think it's because I don't talk to people much, look like I'm really bored most of the time, and have really freaky eye markings." For whatever reason, I had black markings with a white dot under and offset to the outer side of each eye, which in my past life was just permanent dark shadows under my eyes and... what were they, freckles? Beauty marks? I had dot markings under each eye, among other places, and the two under my eyes apparently decided that they would look cooler if they were white. I guess author me's basis for that was the fact that several people in Naruto had what appeared to be biological, and in some cases hereditary, markings not directly related to being the prison for a demonic monster. For example, the Inuzuka, the Akimichi, Jiraiyass, Orochimaru, and the second and third Hokages. "I'm fine with being alone, but I had a feeling you aren't. Wanna be friends?"

He gasped, then gave me a bright smile. His eyes began to water and he gave me a hug. I patted him on the back and just let him hug it out. When he was done, he asked, "What do friends do?"

"I... don't know. I guess maybe I show you something cool?"

"Like what?" I pulled a leaf from my pocket and cut it in half. He gasped. "Cool, 'ttebayo! How'd you do that?"

"When I grow up, I wanna be a ninja. I managed to find out how to do some stuff with chakra. That's apparently an advanced technique that grants you wind powers."

He looked confused at that. "How does cutting a leaf give you wind powers?"

"It's more like it's the easiest use of wind chakra or something. Doing it lets you practice wind chakra so you can do more advanced stuff."

He beamed at me. "Can you teach me?"

I smiled. Idea. If I could get Naruto to train his chakra control, then we could skip a few problems in the future. "There were a lot of steps involved in learning how to do it. I had to do a bunch of other special exercises to work up to it." He pouted. "Buuut, if you do exactly what I tell you and don't question it, I can teach you some cool stuff."

He nodded vigorously. "I'm gonna be Hokage someday, 'ttebayo! Knowing how to use chakra stuff would be great!"

I smiled. The was no doubt in his words. It was as if he already knew he would be Hokage, and the world just had to catch up. I bowed. "Very well, then, Hokage-sama. Let the training montage begin."

kukukuku~

"Whoa!" Naruto said. He was staring at the small tree that I had just felled with a few quick swipes.

"That's what I can teach you," I said with a smug grin as I put my hands in my pockets. "Before that, though, there are some rules that I have for you. First, I don't think that non-ninja are supposed to use jutsu in public, so please don't do stuff like this until you're in the academy at least. Second, even when you do use chakra, please be careful with it." I kicked the tree that I'd just killed. "You can do some serious damage. Third, if you start to feel tired, stop using your chakra unless you absolutely have to. It's a combination of mental and physical energy, meaning it uses your life force. You do the math. Got that?" He nodded eagerly. "Good. Now, for your first task," I picked a leaf off of the tree and gave it to him, "use chakra to stick this leaf to your body."

Naruto groaned. "That's so boring!"

I narrowed my eyes and said, "I told you to do exactly what I say. This is a chakra exercise. It lets you practice in the use of chakra. It's just the first step in what I have to teach you." I walked up a nearby tree. "Get good enough with it and I get to teach you the next trick." I looked at him expectantly. He stared at the leaf, then placed it on the palm of his hand. He then channeled enough chakra into it that it started glowing blue slightly. He flipped his palm over so that the leaf should've fallen over, but it didn't. I dropped to the ground and inspected the leaf. It was a little unsteady, but holding. I guess he was having an easier time controlling his chakra because he hadn't yet developed stupid amounts of it, just a decent amount. "Rein it in slightly. Other than that, it seems fine. I'm going to do my stuff. Once you think you're good with one, add another. Do that until I say you're ready."

kukukuku~

"You're ready," I told him with a laugh a few days later. His arms were covered in leaves. "Take a little break and I'll teach you the next step."

kukukuku~

It continued like that for a while. I don't know how long it lasted for, but by the time Naruto started with leaf cutting, I saw... was he the Raikage? The one guy who Hiashi Hyuuga called the head ninja of Kumogakure when he was talking about the incident with Hinata's kidnapping. I saw that jerk walking down the streets. I managed to find out from a nearby villager that it was December 27th, which I somehow remembered was Hinata's birthday, and he was going to sign the peace treaty with Konoha. I decided that I would help stop the incident in whatever way I could, seeing as that was pretty much where everything started to go wrong in Hinata's life and I could hopefully stop it.

I was thinking about how I could sneak my way into the Hyuuga compound when I got a splitting headache and a tingly feeling in my eyeballs. When I opened my eyes, I could see... myself sneaking into the compound and finding the Raikage in Hinata's room. It was like that one hint stone in Skyward Sword, where you could see a cutscene of what you had to do, except really trippy because it was in real life. I looked in the general direction of the fourth wall and said, "Well that's a deus ex machina and a half, Me. Thanks, I'll make good use of the intel."

I quickly found Naruto and told him that I had to do something and that he should continue with the leaf-cutting practice until I got back. He was making decent progress with it. His leaves were already cut almost halfway through. I then began with the path that I'd seen. When I finally managed to sneak in, it was already dark. I went to the spot on the fence I'd seen myself brooding in the vision when I saw the enemy in my vision. Thankfully, I was just in time to see the man dressed in all black sneak up to Hinata's room. I licked my lips as I thought for a second about what I could do, but quickly decided with a silent 'screw it.'

"HYUGA HIASHI!" I screamed. "A MASKED MAN IS TRYING TO KIDNAP YOUR DAUGHTER! MAKE SURE TO CAPTURE HIM ALIVE, THOUGH, OR HIS VILLAGE WILL DEMAND YOUR HEAD OR START A WAR!"

"WHAT!?" a man who I assumed was Hiashi screamed.

"I SAID THAT A MAN IS TRYING TO KIDNAP YOUR DAUGHTER! PROBABLY FOR HER EYES! AND IF YOU KILL HIM HIS VILLAGE WILL DEMAND YOUR CORPSE FOR YOUR EYES! PLEASE HURRY! I'M PRETTY SURE HE'S ABOUT TO KILL ME FOR RUINING HIS PLANS AND I DON'T FEEL LIKE DYING SO SOON!" As I was shouting at him, the masked man came out and started making a few hand seals. I jumped off of the fence and made a single seal of my own (dragon seal, one of the few I knew and the only one I knew that was primarily for the wind element) and started molding wind chakra.

"Lightning Release: Lightning Shot!" He shot a bolt of lightning chakra out of his hand at me.

"Wind Release: Mini Air Slashes!" I countered by making small slashing motions with my index fingers. Small blades of air spawned from my fingers and rammed straight into the lightning. After most of the slashes dissipated while expending some of the lightning, the remaining one cut straight through the weakened jutsu and cut slightly into his chest. I breathed a sigh of relief and licked my lips. That wouldn't have worked if he hadn't underestimated me, though to be fair not many small children can make air slashes, whatever the size. I dashed in close to him and activated my other wind jutsu. "Wind Release: Dragon Claws." Before I could attack him, I saw him punch me in the chest, but... he hadn't punched me yet. His fist came at me and I ducked away from it. As I dodged I swiped at his leg, hoping that I could distract him if I made enough cuts. What really happened... it was both better and worse than I was hoping for...

Squelch. "GYAAAAH!" the man screamed as blood spouted everywhere. I stopped in my tracks. Even in the dim light, though for some reason it was brighter than it should have been, I definitely saw his leg fall off.

"What?" I turned around to see several Hyuuga ninja staring at me. I made to answer but was suddenly overtaken by a wave of fatigue and dizziness. Chakra exhaustion. "How did you get here? How did you do that?" the ninja in the lead, Hiashi, asked me.

I just barely managed to grin and say, "I don't suppose you'd believe me if I said I could see the future?" before my eyes rolled back in my head and I passed out.

I guess the first chapter ends with a cliffhanger...

#fanfiction #naruto fanfiction #naruto #Foresight is 20/20 #F20 CH1 #tw gore #tw dismemberment

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chapitre7 · 5 years

Text

Alexandria Chapter I

The Untamed [陈情令] | Mo Dao Zu Shi [魔道祖师] fanfiction

Lan Zhan | Lan Wangji/Wei Yīng | Wei Wuxian (Wangxian)

Time Travel/Sci-Fi AU

Characterization is based on the drama

Canon does not exist. World building of the past is based on canon but none of the original events has transpired here;

Likewise, the future presented here is not our own;

Liberal use of cultivation;

Not actually any demonstration of science.

Read on AO3

“Have you always been alone? Did you ever have someone? Do you know what happened to you? Do you? Because I don’t. I don’t know what happened to me. I don’t know. I look in the mirror and the only thing that I recognize are these eyes in this old man’s face. You know, sometimes I think I was either born too early or too late for my life. Maybe we’re both just relics.” – The Shape of Water, 2017, screenplay by Guillermo del Toro & Vanessa Taylor

When they find him, he’s already thawing. The researchers try to preserve him the best they can, so they can catalog every last piece of him, the period of his clothes, the shape of his face, the age of the ice, running their numbers to estimate the years since his last breath. They presume he’s a corpse, making only the most plausible assumptions, but his skin is unmarred and his complexion is so peaceful, he looks safely asleep. He’s a jewel kept in a box, unearthed from the deep sea, as treasures ought to be, in the olden days.

There’s a small feud to decide who will keep him and in what manner. Some want to maintain him exactly as he is, like a pinned butterfly, listing all the outside layers of his identity, file away all the details they can perceive and then showcase him to the community by the end of the semester. Others want to be gone with the ice so they can study his body, uncovering the mysteries of a past they have long lost, before keeping him suspended in time by their own terms. Endless conferences, heated discussions, and piles of paperwork so huge no one bothers to read later, they decide to compromise.

When he takes his first breath in the new age, everyone around him gasps. The sound bounces around his skull, dark eyes widening at the white, all the overwhelming white of the room he’s in. There are needles on him, prickling like insects, and just one glance at the glass wall where countless bug eyes spy on him from behind their notes sends him on a spiral of hysteria, pulling at everything that intrudes him, the machines, the foreign feeling of the sheets, the bed itself, jumping and falling from his position before trained men run inside, hold him down and knock him out.

The second time he opens his eyes, he’s alone. There’s no glass wall, no machine attached to him, no window, just him, the bed, a chair, and two closed doors. He glances down at himself and frowns, failing to recognize the robes he’s wearing. Even if it’s in a familiar style and fabric, the stitches confuse him, unlike anything his sister has ever learned and sewn upon his clothes. And unlike any of the inner robes he owned, these are piercingly white. Maybe he’s in the afterlife. He had imagined it differently.

A sound comes from one of the doors, startling him, but it’s only a knock. He half expects them to swarm in again, the bugs, the monsters, and he’s not ready, not yet, he doesn’t know where his sword is and he’s light-headed and breathing too fast, breaking every rule his master has ever taught him, defenseless, useless.

They don’t come in. He waits, catches his breath, a hand on his chest. There’s nothing for a while until the second knock comes, softer than the first, less like a thunder. He didn’t use to be scared of thunder; maybe that’s why.

He tries to speak, but only a weak, pitiful sound comes out. It seems to be enough for whoever, or whatever, is waiting on the other side of the door. He tries to brace himself the best he can — he can still bite, if that’s what it takes —, but he’s wholly unprepared for the smiling man that walks into his room.

The man is tall, jet-black hair gracefully combed sideways, much, much shorter than he was used to seeing. His eyes are clear, hiding in the crescent moon of his smile, but not threatening. He knows threatening; would be able to spot it from miles away, still remembers the crawling feeling of fingers holding him down as he screamed. The man wears white, just like he does, only it’s a different, foreign style of robes. Did he somehow end up in a different land, drifting along the icy waters of the north?

When the man speaks, he feels like he’s still underwater, miles from the surface. He can’t understand a single sound the man is making and it’s unsettling, an emptiness burning inside of his stomach. He vaguely remembers a time when he had meant to leave, get away from everything and everyone, he did, but not like this, nothing like this. The man steps into the room, towards the bed, and he throws himself to the floor, wincing at the pain on his knees, unable to do anything but push himself as far away as possible using the strength of his arms.

Looking over his shoulder, he notices the man’s smile fading away. He places a tray he hadn’t noticed before on the bed and speaks some more, but when he gets no response, he just sighs and moves back to the door, walking out and leaving the confused man to his panic and his disarray of thoughts.

Eventually, he moves back to the bed. Too tired to climb back up, he settles for a sitting position, reaching for the bowl on the tray the man had brought in. There’s nothing particularly enticing about the smell of the soup but he brings the bowl to his lips and downs it almost instantly, like a dying man. He coughs, not really chewing the vegetables, but doesn’t stop until the bowl is clean and back on the tray. Where the nothingness had once been is now warmth and he feels a little better about it, because maybe, just maybe, he’s not in a place to be judged and punished for whatever misdeed. Maybe he’s alive, after all.

He lets his eyes draw back and sleeps right there on the floor, until the smiling man returns, gives the tray away to men who don’t cross the threshold into the room, and puts him back on the bed, safe under the covers. He never notices it. Never even dreams, just listens, every once in a while, to the hums that must consist of a language, like the birds that once sang in the homeland of his childhood.

***

The smiling man is the only one he sees for a while. He grows used to him, his harmless presence, as he brings him food, watches him as he eats, guides him to stand and walk and even teaches him how to use the adjoined bathroom with a series of simple gestures, before bowing politely and leaving. When he’s alone, he tries to speak to himself, and not too long after, he’s glad to hear his own voice again. For a while he was afraid he would forget what his voice sounded like, his memory a haze of misplaced images and sounds, unsure if he could trust the voice of his own thoughts. He’s safe, though. He dares to feel safe, if only briefly.

He doesn’t have any concept of time, but he knows one day the smiling man brings a needle connected to a small vial. Before he can run away, the man raises a hand, a plea for patience, and inserts the needle in his own arm, drawing blood into the vial. It’s not a lot of blood, and there’s no harm or mess when he’s done. The man raises his eyebrows in question. There’s so little to lose in the small action that he yields when the man pulls another needle from his robes.

The act is not as gentle as the man made it seem and he winces. The man seems apologetic and the grip he has on his arm is feather light to compensate. It’s over quickly, cleanly, the man giving him a small cotton ball to hold against the minuscule wound. After the man leaves, he stares at the little drop of blood on the cotton ball and wonders when, exactly, he’s going to start living again. Wherever he is, in what possible way, and under whose glare, peering at him from outside those four white walls.

He falls asleep with his gaze fixed on the wall across from his bed, knowing they’re still there. Waiting for him, crushing him with their expectations.

***

The man who walks into his room next is not smiling. And although his eyes are just as clear as the other’s, the bangs that frame his face are longer, and his features are softer, with a less striking bone structure. He’s definitely younger, but the resemblance is so strong that there’s no way the two men aren’t related.

“Ah,” he says from the bed, apprehensive that there’s nothing in the man’s hands but a small notebook, and he’s not sure what to expect when he sits on the chair by the bed. The unknown, in that white world, is nothing but white fear.

“How do you feel?”

He perks up immediately, leaning forward, causing the man to lean back on instinct.

“I can understand you!”

The man nods, crossing his legs.

“And you can understand me?”

The man gives a shorter nod.

“Yes, I speak your language.”

“Oh, thank the heavens, I was afraid I was going to be lost in here forever.”

He lets out a laugh that sounds as weak as it feels, but he’s speaking again just as the man is opening his mouth.

“I’m Wei Ying! What’s your name?”

“I’m...”

He pauses, as if he’s been questioned about the meaning of the breaking dawn and the fall of dusk. Wei Ying waits, expectantly, because he can understand, at last, and maybe the world isn’t going to be so white anymore.

“I’m Lan Zhan,” the man finally answers, after what couldn’t have been more than a few seconds.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying repeats, testing, tasting the name.

“Your turn.”

“Huh?”

“To answer. How do you feel?”

“If I answer your questions, will you answer mine?”

Lan Zhan looks up from his notes and Wei Ying feels like himself for the first time in what seems like a lifetime. Not scared, not cornered, not useless, but capable of speech again, something he had always been so naturally good at, and finally, finally he can attempt to turn the game board around, gain some ground, escape that terrifying prison of whispers.

Only a noncommittal noise comes from Lan Zhan’s throat, and Wei Ying takes what he can get.

“I feel well. I can finally walk, but not for long.”

The man makes some notes, and Wei Ying, with fidgety fingers, adds, “It’d help if the food tasted better.”

Lan Zhan’s strange brush seems to pause. In different circumstances, where he didn’t feel uneasy all the time, Wei Ying might have grinned.

“What—”

“No, it’s my turn. Where am I?”

And when can I get out? is at the tip of his tongue.

“You’re in a research facility.”

Wei Ying frowns, fingers grasping at the sheets on his lap.

“Why am I in a place of research? Why? Did something happen to me?”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan calls, and the cadence of his voice when he calls his name grounds him where he would otherwise fall. But he’s at the edge of the precipice, and hanging by a thread. “What do you remember?”

“What...?”

He remembers the cold. He remembers wandering far and leaving people behind, cities, villages, everyone. He doesn’t remember why. His head hurts. He remembers desolation, and a plethora of knowledge that had no outlet and no meaning. He remembers leaping. And the cold, taking over, surrounding, pulling him deep.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan calls again, and he can hear himself, his own shallow breaths. “It’s okay. Ca—”

Wei Ying snaps, slaps away the hand that he sees coming in his direction. Lan Zhan, who sported a professional look ever since he came through the door, has the grace to look taken aback.

“Tell me,” Wei Ying speaks, and it’s a voice he didn’t know he still possessed. He wishes he had left it behind, wherever those memories were from. “What happened to me?”

Lan Zhan straightens his jaw, leans back against his chair.

“You’ve been asleep for over a thousand years.”

#The Untamed #Mo Dao Zu Shi #fanfiction #Wangxian #Lan Wangji #Wei Wuxian #Alternate Universe: Science-fiction #Alternate Universe: Time Travel

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acecorvid · 6 years

Text

Puzzle Pieces [Spideypool Fic]

another installment of the Spiderfamily/Spideypool verse

It was hard after the divorce. Peter remembers that rock bottom, the rejection, the disappointment, the failure, the loneliness. Rough does not begin to cover that time in Peter’s life. But he also remembers the moment with his occasional crime fighting partner when the banter got too real.

He’s not even sure what Wade said now, something about other MJs in the sea and something flirty. They’d been flirting a lot, for a long time. Subtle and harmless, but maybe it wasn’t so harmless now that he and MJ split. What Peter does remember is his hands pushing Wade against the wall of an alleyway to shut him up; he remembers the anger and sadness coursing through him, and he remembers Wade laughing breathlessly.

“Sometimes I like it rough, baby boy.”

It wasn’t rough, though, when Peter finally let his hands slide up from Wade’s shoulders to slip under the mask at his neck and push it up. It wasn’t rough when he caressed Wade’s cheek after stopping the mask just above his nose. It was soft, like the press of Peter’s lips against Wade’s chapped ones. Soft like the startled noise that was muffled by a second kiss and a smirk from Peter realizing Wade had been all talk and the deep moan when Peter let his hand wander lower on Wade’s body.

Getting off in an alleyway while wearing the Spider-Man suit wasn’t Peter’s proudest moment, but it was a defining moment, or at least a memorable one. One that he replayed in his mind often, and at inopportune moments, like staring at this new Wade across the kitchen table.

A snap of fingers took his out of his reverie and he glanced around, all the young spiders staring at him with questionable looks. The room had an uncomfortable vibe and Peter really hoped it wasn’t obvious what he was thinking about. The smirk tugging at Wade’s mask told him otherwise.

“Maybe you kids go for a walk,” Peter said, shoving Miles’ hand out of his face.

Miles made a face, Gwen gave them both a finger salute before escorting the other three smaller spiders out the door. Noir followed them but he turned, the wind blowing at his cape - something Peter was still getting used to.

“You’re older than me, but I’m from a time older than you. From an era you could scarcely dream of. I’m an old soul. Not a child.”

Peter stood up, grabbing what Noir had left at the table, “Your rubik’s cube says otherwise, champ.”

“One day I’ll understand you,” Noir whispers to the colorful box as Peter guides him out the front door and shuts it behind him.

“All alone, Petey B.”

Peter sighs, pressing his forehead against the door. He thinks he misses the way Wade had called him ‘baby boy’ for all those years.

“You’re not the same, Wade. Are you?”

When Peter turns around, Wade is standing up from the table and taking off his mask. He looks like the same Wade, he isn’t sure what another multiverse Wade would look like. Maybe there’s a verse where Wade’s skin isn’t… but then he doesn’t think he’d recognize that man.

“You’ve got your thinking cap on, B.”

“Stop-” It takes Peter a moment and it clicks, “You called him that, didn’t you? The Peter of this universe. You called him ‘baby boy’ before he died.”

Wade frowns but he nods, “Didn’t like it as much as you probably did.”

“I hated it,” Peter laughs, but he’s shaking his head, “But I guess I didn’t. I think it worked on me. I don’t think it would have, if me and MJ hadn’t broken things off, but I also think… I think it was working the whole time. Took me a while to realize that I always flirted back, even when I was annoyed with you-him-ah-”

“I’m not the same, but I’m more ‘the same’ than you are to this verse’s Peter.”

“Oh thanks, cryptic as always Wade.”

“I can see the multiverse, old man, you can’t. There’s a dog version of me running around right now.”

“A dog.”

“Lady Deadpool, Kidpool, the list goes on and I can know they’re there.”

“You can see what they’re doing?”

“I can see what they’ve done. Spooky shit, right?”

Peter groans, walking over to the couch and flopping down, “I don’t know why I thought I could get a proper conversation out of you.”

Wade follows him over and practically vaults over the back of the couch to land with his head in Peter’s lap. “Different rules apply here, I could wax you a poem and maybe it would be in character enough to make the cut.”

Peter shakes his head and looks up at the ceiling, maybe hoping for the whole Stark house to be defective and come crashing down on him. “Please don’t.”

“Feeling guilty? For cheating?”

“We weren’t together, Wade. We had- it was one night.” One single night that Peter regretted for so long. The guilt made him drive Wade away and never talk to him again. He pushed everyone who cared about him out of his life until he was a lonely old man, saving the city all by himself. Not a way for a guy to live. “And is it really cheating if it’s… you?”

“What if I banged Porker right now?”

“First:” Peter says calmly before he’s not calm, “How? How would you manage that? That doesn’t even-! You had to pick the pig? The weirdest possible- couldn’t have been Noir? Although now that I think about it maybe that is the weirder pick. Why did you have to put that image in my head? I hate you so much, Wilson.” He pokes at Wade’s cheek as he lets his voice lower, “And second, maybe I wouldn’t be entirely cool if I found out you and golden boy Parker had a thing before he died.”

“We didn’t.”

“Yeah, but we did.”

“For the record, I’m not hurt. If your verse’s Wade saw me now we’d high five and then maybe- maybe we’d do something that’s definitely not PG rated to you.”

Peter’s jaw drops and he nearly pushes Wade off his lap, “That is- that is not a topic- I wouldn’t-”

“Oh, my dear sweet Peter, did we find a kink?” Wade’s grinning like the cat that got the cream and Peter doesn’t know if he wants to stand up and let Wade fall to the floor or kiss him. So he does both.

Wade is knocked to the floor but Peter’s following him down and stretching out on top of him, pressing their lips together. He feels exactly like his verse’s Wade, the way he kisses, the feel of his gloves sliding up his back and pulling him closer, the firmness of his fit body beneath his own. It’s almost the same. But this Wade tugs his gloves off and buries his hands in Peter’s hair as he rolls them over and pins Peter to the ground. This Wade pushes Peter’s thigh apart with his knee and presses his thigh down hard making Peter moan against Wade’s dry lips and buck upwards. It’s rougher but it’s also sweet in the way Wade kisses down Peter’s jawline and sucks a mark too high on his neck that the kids are going to give him hell for. It’s faster than Peter wants it to be, but he knows they have time, they can have more than one night.

“It’s a shame.”

Wade lifts his head from where he’s resting it on Peter’s shoulder, “That your back is gonna be wrecked from this? We’re definitely too old to be getting off on the floor, and you don’t have the healing factor that I do.”

“No I- actually- oh god I can feel my neck spasming already- frick!” Peter rolls his shoulder and he knows he’s going to be in pain for the rest of the day. “No, I meant- it’s a shame that we, use two versions of ourselves, didn’t end up in the same universe.”

“Getting sappy on me, B?” Wade pauses, “Baby boy?”

Peter cringes, “Oh, actually maybe don’t.”

Wade laughs into his shoulder, “Make up your mind!”

“Maybe I’m too old for that. Or maybe that’s not us. Either way, and yeah man I’m getting sappy, I think I like the way we fit.”

“Insert puzzle analogy here.”

“Wade.”

“Or maybe I’ll insert something else, wink wink.”

“Wade.”

Peter feels Wade’s lips on his neck, trailing up to his lips, “Yeah, Petey, we fit pretty nice.”

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#spiderfamily #into the spiderverse #spideypool #arrawrites #into the spider verse #peter b parker #spideyfam #spfic #spider-man noir #wade wilson #it's not the most sfw but it's not bad #spideybpool #this spideyfam has two dads

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