#!locke tba

[bundlesofchaos]

Okay I know I said I was trying so hard not to start new threads because of the fact I have a ton already but like... I would start one if it was with Locke.

[devilfated]

@traumapyre said: ❛  we’re  closed  for  renovation today !  ❜

    "OH DEAR." His hand comes up to rest on his heart, feigning offend. "I don't suppose you might reconsider extending your hours of operation? I do believe the slogan goes, 'the customer is always right'? I'm in need of some psychic advice. And I'm afraid it can't wait."

    In spite of his newly ordained crown of the supernatural city of New Orleans, power did not come without a cost. With his daughter to protect, and the enemies he'd culminated, Klaus needed a witch. Far be it from fate to leave ghosts from his past out of his town -- particularly those who didn't like him; however, Klaus figured fear was a much more powerful emotion than hate.

     He walked around the small shop, grazing his hands over knick-knacks and the like. Tarot cards, oracle balls, crystals - a perfect tourist trap. Yet not unlike many of the other dull stores around. He had to ask himself what made this one different. Perhaps a little bit of magic -- just enough -- would keep word of mouth about the shop rolling.

     "Let's cut right to the chase, shall we? You know someone I need to get in contact with. Where might I find Jasmine Moore?

[h0bb5]

@1ocked another one omg....

DOONA! 이두나! — 2023, dir. Lee Jeong Hyo

[neuvistar]

Biker! Dan heng, Sunday and aventurine?

Sfw and NSFW

Like I'm brain dead for them

DREAM RIDE. biker! honkai star rail men part one

— featuring ┊aventurine, sunday, (il) dan heng x fem!reader (all separate)

— warnings / content warnings ┊all consensual! sfw + nsfw, feminine terms used (she, girl, etc), cunniligus (aventurine #1 pussy eater strikes again), orgasm denial (sunday), jus a tad bit of subby dan heng, semi-public s3x? (sunday), blowjob (dan heng), use of vibrators (sunday), riding (dan heng) use of nicknames, multiple orgasms, bath s3x (aventurine), sunday is a MENACE here, reader implied 2 be a lil smaller than them, v4ginal fingering (aventurine), more tba! | 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

— a/n ┊NOT PROOFREAD ! might correct tmr if i’m not sleepy! <3 anyways hi guys writers block stopped biting my ass anyways guys i’m SOOO attracted 2 aventurine it’s acc insane he needs to be jailed from how majestic he is.. erm! whoever keeps sending asks abt biker! hsr men god bless u and ur entire family | reblogs r appreciated

⊹ 𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐄

sfw.

⊹ BIKER!AVENTURINE who would take you out for late night rides! he’s a total drama queen, let’s get that out of the way. he loves you, yes, but he’d get so pouty whenever you turn him down for your daily night rides with him, he sulks and sulks.. clinging onto your figure until you finally say yes! jokes aside, aventurine really does enjoy your company, he really does value quality time as he would go as far to even take you out to see the stars, feel the breeze and have some fresh air, or just have a midnight snack!

“come on, baby.. 2am is nothing! just come and ride with me for a bit, i promise i’ll have you back til 3?”

⊹ BIKER!AVENTURINE who always finds himself buying you gifts before visiting you and such! sometimes he’d just be riding around on the road and all of the sudden his hands are full of bags and gifts just for you before he gets to your place! he’s a huge gift giver, spoiling you to the brim.

“would [name] like this one.. no no, maybe this one. hm.. maybe both.”

⊹ BIKER!AVENTURINE who can be insecure at times, sometimes he thinks about whether he’s truly right for you or not. like, usually he wouldn’t give in to these thoughts but there are times where he’s just riding around at night n he suddenly stops n goes.. “what if [name] is bored of me?” even though he might not show it, poor thing needs A LOT and i mean A LOT of reassurance from you, please tell him he’s good enough for you!

“my darling.. are you sure i’m right for you? i mean, you know. i’ve just been.. thinking. you’re not gonna leave, are you.. hm? ‘gonna stay with me, right?”

nsfw.

⊹ BIKER!AVENTURINE absolutely loves having sex while you both take bubble baths, i mean.. it’s essential to have good hygiene, isn’t it? aventurine pumped his fingers within your pussy, circling his thumb over your clit as he licked his lips, nuzzling close against your neck. “mmh.. you like that?” his voice, husky and low as his fingers reached the deepest parts of your cunt, a sharp gasp caught in your throat as he held you firmly against him. watching you struggle to stifle your moans made him feel a combination of pride and surprise. aventurine gripped your waist lightly, offering support and reassurance. "damn, sweetheart.. are my fingers that good?" he murmured, his voice low and steady.

aventurine growled softly, pleasure coursing through him at your reaction. his fingers deeply thrusted in and out of you, feeling your tight walls spasm around his digits. with a lick of his lips, he added another finger within your drenched pussy.. the sound of water splashing against his fingers, his speed rising more and more.. stretching you delicately. "missed this," he groaned, adding more speed to his rhythm. "missed the way your body responds to me, my darling girl..” his eyes locked onto yours, seeing the desire mirrored back at him. he wanted to make you cum, that was his goal for the night.. to hear you scream his name again. the roughness of his fingers grew, the sounds of water splashing against his hand was enough to embarrass you, aeons.. he was going fast alright. “c’mon, sweetheart.. it’s been ages since i made you squirt. mmh.. these fingers are good enough to make you squirt, right?”

⊹ BIKER!AVENTURINE who would eat you out almost all the time, whether it’s on his motorcycle seat while he holds your body, or maybe his table filled with tools, or just a plain old bed. aventurine is willing to eat you out literally anywhere, his tongue piercing made it even better. aventurine savoured every second of this, allowing his senses to be consumed by your intoxicating flavour. your body trembled above him, carefully laid on the seat of his motorcycle as he chuckled against your pussy.. your hands buried in his hair as he delved deeper into your depths. the blonde’s tongue danced expertly, exploring every hidden crevice while his fingers played with your swollen bud. “you taste divine," he murmured against your sex, causing you to arch your back sharply. "just like the finest wine, only better." his words hung heavy in the air between them, fuelling your rising passion.

aventurine attacked your cunt hungrily, devouring your folds with complete vigor. aeons, he was obsessed with your pussy, and your taste. the way your wetness spilled out onto his tongue, mixing with the warm atmosphere surrounding the both of you drove him crazy. his large hands held you firmly against the seat of his motorcycle, hands roamed freely over your body, tweaking one of your nipples roughly while diving deeper inside your drenched pussy. your boyfriend groaned into your folds, feeling your walls tremble around him. “good darling.. such a good girl taking my tongue so well.” “.. ‘turine.. you’re gonna make me fall on here.. j—just eat me out on the desk..” you murmured, wincing when you felt a slap on your pussy. “whoops, sorry angel,” ugh.. this tease. “mm.. no-can-do, sweetheart. i like seeing you like this. just imagine, my cum leaking out of your pussy and right onto my bike.” he licked a single stripe on your cunt, chuckling when he noticed your legs quivering. “oh how fascinating would that be.”

⊹ 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐘

sfw.

⊹ BIKER!SUNDAY who has a habit of grabbing onto your waist, or just snaking his arm around it! i mean, he does this for many reasons.. one, to show you’re taken, and two, mm.. he just feels like it! sunday would do it on random occasions, whether he’s talking with his biker friends, at the cashier, anywhere! he loves grabbing your waist and he makes that very clear, maybe if he’s in the mood.. he’d slide his hand beneath your shirt as well wink wink

sunday glanced at your form, a small smile forming on his face when he saw you examining your surroundings. he snaked an arm around your waist, pulling your body firmly against his.

⊹ BIKER!SUNDAY who’s jealousy is intense. sunday would get angry at you, give you the silent treatment, or just bluntly ignore you if you were found talking and laughing with another guy other than him. he refuses to believe that you can be happy with other guys other than him. he would glare at other people he catches staring at what’s his, he was.. possessive. and whenever you catch sight of it, he would try and manipulate you to thinking he’s doing it for your own good! because all those men that were staring at you were bad! (wow, he’s a bastard) saying this, he’s a huge manipulator.. it can be a handful dating him.

“trust me, my love. can’t you see how those men were staring at you?” his voice was soft, dangerously soft. the malicious glint in his eyes didn’t hide anything. “they’re after you, angel. they’re after what’s mine. i’m only trying to protect you. why are you so doubtful of me, hm? do you not love me anymore? are you perhaps.. bored of me?”

⊹ BIKER!SUNDAY who loves being in control, this can be taken in a sexual or non sexual sense <3 sunday is assertive, and he knows what’s right for you. (most of the time!) he can be a bit controlling at times, but he means no harm! he just wants to keep you safe, promise! sometimes sunday would give you that look whenever you would try n defy him, he means business.. trust me. because of this, he can be cold and stubborn towards you at times without even knowing, geez.. he really needs to work on that.

nsfw.

⊹ BIKER!SUNDAY loves being in control, as i’ve mentioned.. but especially in bed. besides that, he’s so damn mean.. he doesn’t let you cum unless he tells you to, kissing your tears away with his lips. “ah ah ah, darling.. what did i say about cumming?” his eyes devoured your small frame, taking in every curve and angle of your body. sunday couldn't help but feel a surge of dominance and control over you, chuckling lowly. you was his, every fiber of your being was his, and he'd take care of you properly. his thrusts were hard to take in, his size and speed.. aeons. the way his cock slides in so easily had him biting his lip, he’s so mean and strict whenever you both make love, spanking you a few times whenever he sees you dozing off!

his eyes never left yours, even when he would immediately pull out when you were on the verge of orgasming, earning a sweet whine from your lips. “please.. please let me cum! sunday, baby please.. i can’t hold it anymore!” oh, how if only you knew how much he loves it when you beg. “oh baby.. i love it when you beg like that.” sunday groaned deeply from pleasure, landing another smack to your ass.. grinning at the sight of you swirling beneath him, “it only makes me wanna do this more.. it makes me wanna keep you here, stop you from cumming all over my cock. do you want that?” “n—no please.. please let me cum, sunday.. i need it—��� “keep begging, my angel. maybe i’ll let you cum if you keep begging and whining for me. come now, speak up.”

⊹ BIKER!SUNDAY who absolutely loves using vibrators on you whenever you both go out together, it’s amusing to him! (stupid bastard) he would increase it’s speed at random times to catch you off guard.. for his own amusement. listen, you really love your boyfriend but sometimes you just wanna slap that stupid smile off his face. you were casually picking out some candy in the candy aisle, a soft smile on your face before you felt that same old sensation within you.. causing a gasp to leave your pretty lips. “mm.. what are you looking at here, my love?” sunday murmured softly, chuckling at your vulnerable state. “sunday.. lower the speed please..” you begged, aeons! you were stupid to even think he’d decrease it’s speed!

your boyfriend smirked, the vibrator’s speed only grew more by the second as you could feel the wetness of your pussy seep through your panties, filling you with humiliation and embarrassment as you could barely walk, holding your hand over your mouth. “fuck.. sunday please..” you knew begging wasn’t gonna get you anywhere.. you knew you would have to have that stupid thing inside you for hours on end, overstimulating your pussy and entire body while your boyfriend watched and held you with pure amusement. to your bewilderment, there were times where sunday would go as far to fingering you by a nearby alleyway, his hands drenched in your juices. this man.. you wanted to be mad at him but you couldn’t bring yourself to be. sunday’s pretty fingers dug deep into your drenched pussy, knuckles deep while he had that same stupid sadistic smile on his face. “i should put that thing in you more.. look how wet your pussy is. it’s practically drooling for me, angel.”

⊹ 𝐈𝐋 𝐃𝐀𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐍𝐆

sfw.

⊹ BIKER!DANHENG who is more of a private relationship typa guy, he prefers to keep his relationships private! despite this, he still shows his love for you in many other ways, it’s easy to say that some people are even surprised he was dating you, because of how reserved he is when it came to personal matters <3 he values his and yours’ privacy, you can trust me on that!

⊹ BIKER!DANHENG who struggles putting on his helmet because of his horns (lol), you find it really cute! whenever he leaves your house, sometimes he takes 10 minutes trying to figure out how to wear a helmet because of his horns. he found this so annoying to the point he probably had a custom helmet made for him and his horns!

you nearly let out a giggle when you gazed at him, struggling to wear his helmet over his head. dan heng’s tail swished against his leg, glancing up at you with a slight frown. “[name], it’s not funny.”

⊹ BIKER!DANHENG who would teach you how to ride a motorcycle so you and him can ride around together, i mean.. you can’t blame him! he doesn’t show it much, but he really does hope to spend more time with you, and he thinks this is effective and efficient! dan heng would guide you through it slowly, keeping his hands on your waist while he helped your practice with the brakes and all you needed to know! to be honest, this was really just an excuse to touch you, but can you blame him? his large hands would brush against your hips, helping you adjust and sit properly, it’s a good thing these things take awhile to learn!

“mhm, i got you.” his thumb rubbed circles on your hips, humming. “you’re a fast learner, [name]. you never fail to surprise me.”

nsfw.

⊹ BIKER!DANHENG who just loves having your pretty mouth wrapped around his cock after an exhausting day of biking all day and night. soft gasps and whimpers left his lips as he showed a completely different side of him that night, full of pure desperation and need. “am i.. doing this right?” your voice was muffled against his dick, sending vibrations to his nerves as his hand was carefully placed atop of your head, body aching for release. “yes.. keep sucking me off like that..” with a grunt, he closed his eyes briefly while savouring the warmth of your tongue tracing circles around the sensitive slit.

"more please, baby..“ dan heng begged, arching his back slightly as your warm, wet tongue caressed the head of his cock, teasing him mercilessly before sliding down its veiny shaft. the sensation was foreign yet familiar, sending waves of pleasure coursing through his body. unable to resist any longer, he reached down, gripping your hair tightly as he thrusts his hips upward, pushing deeper into your waiting mouth.his breathing became heavier, the sound of each labored gasp echoing in the otherwise silent room, punctuated by the sloppy sounds of your mouth working him over. your tongue swirls around the base of his cock, teasing the sensitive area underneath his balls before returning to suck and stroke him feverishly. “you’re so good to me.. s.. so good to me..”

⊹ BIKER!DANHENG who would let you ride him just like how he lets you ride his motorcycles! he just wants to put your pleasure first, really. dan heng’s mind raced as he watched you ride him. he was going to lose it, he knew it very well. the sight of you bouncing on his cock, your pussy coating his cock with pure white juices, the sound of your gasps, and the feeling of your breasts against his chest created a whirlwind of emotions. he watched you struggle to stifle your moans while gripping your waist lightly, offering support and reassurance. "you’re doing great, love. fuck.. take your time and do what feels good," he encouraged, his voice low and steady.

he hoped his presence provided comfort, guiding his precious girlfriend to enjoy the sensations without feeling pressure to perform. their bodies moved in harmony together, lust fuelled by the thrill of victory as dan heng’s breaths grew ragged. his face flushed at the sight of your breasts bouncing, biting his lip at how overwhelming this was.. the sound of skin slapping against each other was all that came through, their moans punctuated the intensity of their shared moment. your hands grabbed everywhere.. his biceps, his chest, and oh.. even his horns. he was absolutely losing it. “sh—shit.. use my cock, use my cock for your own pleasure, beloved.. you’re doing so well..”

@ NEUVISTAR. do not plagiarize, claim my work as your own, translate or share my posts on any platform outside of tumblr.

[xxchumanixx]

Glimpses

Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings/Tags: fluff, angst, Bucky (yes, he's a warning), reader has the ability to show other people images in their head (does that make sense?), otherwise not described, spoilers for fatws

Word count: tba

Authors note: To be honest, I've been working on this for months, bit by bit. I didn't have much time to write or post something lately, and somehow, the motivation went with it. But I love this man to no end, and I had to finish this (for my sake, too). Im not a hundred percent happy with it, but we're just gonna roll with it.

I hope you enjoy it.

It gnawed at you, gripping you with a hand made of iron, it's icy fingers sending chills down your spine.

How could she do this to you?

Someone you once envied for being related to Peggy Carter, one of the founders of SHIELD, maybe one of the coolest persons to have ever existed.

Now, you couldn't help but pity Sharon Carter.

Sam nudged your foot with his, ripping you out of your thoughts. "What's up with you?" he wanted to know, brows furrowed.

Blinking at him, you tried to grasp what he was talking about, before shaking your head with a sigh.

"When Sharon was pardoned, I heard her say something I don't know what to think of..." you mumbled, biting your cheek. Sam rose a brow in return, Bucky's furrowing.

You were sitting in a private jet, a small table in front of you, with Sam sitting diagonally to your right and Bucky to your left.

"When she came out, she dialed someone, saying something about super soldiers being off the menu, weapons and 'should be something for everyone'." you recited what you had heard her say.

You had been there to congratulate her, welcome her back. But, when she stepped out the building, immediately dialing someone, you hid back in the crowd, carefully listening.

Yeah, eavesdropping wasn't nice, but something urged you to do it.

And you had been right.

"Nah," Sam made, shaking his head with a chuckle. "You must have misheard her."

Licking your lip, you shook your own head. "No, I know what I've heard."

Sam's brows furrowed, eyes trained on you. "Y/N, I'm sure you just misheard her." he repeated his words softer.

Eyes widening, your mouth was agape. "Sam-" you started, but he cut you off. "No, Y/N-" "Sam!" with a yell of his name and a slam of your hand on the table, you locked eyes, letting your power whir to life.

You could see your own eyes change color in his iris, energy flowing through you, as you forced him to see what you've seen.

Sharon left the building with a smile on her face, radiating confidence. Pulling out her phone she dialed a number, slowly walking further down the steps.

"Start lining up our buyers." she spoke into the phone, seemingly not caring enough to watch her surroundings for anyone listening. "Super Soldiers might be off the menu, but we're about to have full access to government secrets, prototype weapons, you name it. Should be something for everyone."

With that, she left, leaving you speechless.

With a gasp, you let go of Sam's mind, rapidly blinking to get the dry feeling out of your eyes.

Sam stared onto the table, swallowing. His hands trembled slightly, whilst Bucky grew impatient.

"Can I see?" he wanted to know, eagerly leaning forward in his seat. It made you chuckle, despite the dread in your stomach.

Letting Bucky enter your mind, was something different.

You weren't able to control your powers a hundred percent, which would be a risk, when letting someone in. There could be emotions or flashes of memories that could seep through, something you didn't want.

Especially not with him.

You had been in love with him for a while now, but never dared to make a move on it. Not, when he was so far out of your league.

Swallowing, you nodded hesitantly.

Locking eyes with Bucky's blue ones, you let your power come to life again, heart pounding faster.

You showed him the same thing you showed Sam, trying your hardest to concentrate only on the memory of Sharon, nothing else.

Slipping back out of it, you blinked rapidly, whilst Bucky sat frozen in his chair.

Shaking your head, you felt it deep in your chest, slowly making its way up - luckily for you, you had cut the connection already.

It was a memory you cherished deep in your heart, one of your favorites. It was Bucky, smiling happily.

Most of the time his smile didn't reach his eyes, not like it should have. He wasn't as carefree, at least not until he teamed up with Sam.

He was lying on the sofa in Sarah's house, Sam's sister. The kids had been playing with the shield, whilst Bucky was still sleeping on the couch.

You had been sitting at the small coffee table, able to see him, but he wouldn't see you at first glance.

When he woke up, softly calling out to the kids with a smile and a peace, they panicked, putting the shield back into its bag.

It had you smiling into your mug, quietly chuckling, as you sipped your coffee.

His smile was real, beautiful and rare. His eyes sparkled with joy, sunlight catching in them, highlighting the blue of his iris, as he leaned back into the cushions.

It showed the Bucky he was back in the forties, slowly peeling away layer after layer of his hardened shell.

Closing your eyes, you willed the memory away, slowly shaking your head, to get rid of it.

When your eyes opened again, looking back up at Bucky and Sam, Bucky's eyes were glued to your face.

His brows were furrowed, deep in thought. His mouth opened the slightest bit, but it closed again, like a fish.

Your own eyes widened the slightest bit, belly churning, as you realized.

The faint line connecting your minds - it was still there.

Your breathing fastened, fist clenching, as you looked at Sam, trying to come up with something to pull him into a conversation - but your mind was as blank as a wall.

Seriously, now you were able to think of nothing?

Your hands began to sweat, as you tried your hardest not to burst into tears. It was exactly what you had feared to happen, not being able to control it.

Mostly the reason you never really let Bucky enter your mind, fearing what he might find.

"Do you think-" Sam started, but cut himself off with a shake of his head. "That she's the power broker?" you returned, eager to flee into this conversation, but it was over just as fast as it had begun. "Yeah."

Bucky didn't say anything, eyes fixed on his hands that were seated in his lap.

Sam sighed, one hand swiping over his face. He was tired, you could tell. Being the new Captain America wasn't easy.

"Excuse me." you mumbled, standing up, before heading out of the room and towards the bathroom, where you locked yourself in.

You choked on a breath, fighting the tears, but soon losing. How could you be so careless? You should have known it wouldn't end well, letting him enter your mind.

But it would have been suspicious not to show him, either.

You could only hope you'd get out of this unscathed.

_____

Sam cleared his throat in discomfort, fist clenching on the table.

If he hadn't known your memories were true, he would have brushed it off with a laugh. He'd worked with Sharon before, and she never seemed like someone who would turn on her own people.

How long, til she would turn on them?

Eyes lifting, they met the side of Bucky's face. He was quiet, more than usual.

"How can she do this to us, after all we went through?" Sam asked in a mumble, ripping Bucky from his thoughts with a "Huh?".

Brows furrowing, Sam tried to analyze the man he didn't want to call friend, even though he'd become exactly that over the past few weeks.

"What's up with you?" he asked, frown deepening. Sure, Bucky had his moments where his thoughts drifted off, but not like this.

Not when you just basically fled a minute ago.

Bucky shook his head, trying to clear his mind. "I don't know." he gave back, forehead wrinkling in thought.

Hell, if he could only make sense of what he'd seen.

"What happened?" Sam dug deeper, having noticed how long you two had been silent when showing him what you'd seen.

It took longer than he thought needed to.

Bucky wiped over his face.

It was like he switched bodies with you when that memory of yours slipped through. He could feel everything.

Every little emotion.

"I-" Bucky was searching for the right words as he suddenly stood. "Excuse me."

He followed into the direction you'd taken off to, causing Sam to frown even more.

He stopped in front of the bathroom door, softly knocking before the courage could have left him.

"Y/N?" he called out, heart beating unsteady. "Can we please talk?"

You flinched, perched on the toilet seat as you desperately wiped at your face. "Why?" you called out, giving your very best to sound neutral.

You could hear him hesitate, the little sounds that left his mouth that he himself didn't even notice. "Please?" he then just asked, fingers drumming on the door.

You hesitated as well, not sure if you should open the door to face your imminent death of shame.

With a heavy sigh you got up, though, shaky fingers fumbling for the lock, taking a moment longer to unlock it before it was pushed open by Bucky merging into the small bathroom, cramping the space even more.

You stumbled back, colliding with the sink.

"What was that?" Bucky wanted to know, eyes on yours, searching them for anything that gave him an answer. "What?" you gave back, deciding to act dumb.

Maybe he wouldn't notice.

Of course he would, you idiot.

His brows furrowed, a look of confusion and bewilderment crossing his features. "You know exactly what I mean, don't play dumb now, Y/N!" he shot back, not amused.

See?

Told you so.

You swallowed the lump that somehow didn't want to budge, blocking your airways. "I- I don't know." you stuttered out, mentally cursing yourself for being so reckless to let him enter your mind in the first place.

Bucky frowned even more, not sure whether to believe you or not. After all he had felt it, not sure if he really wanted to know, though.

He didn't dare to hope.

You inhaled shakily, trying to force your heart rate down, to calm yourself a little.

Easier said than done.

"Are you sure you don't know?" Bucky pressed, voice tinged with something you couldn't place. "Because I'm sure I didn't imagine what I've seen or felt."

You flinched at that.

He knew, he knew for fucks sake, and there was no way you could have made him believe that it was nothing.

To be fair, you wouldn't have believed yourself, either.

No one would feel immense happiness, content, and warmth just because of a person they saw as a friend.

Come on.

You swallowed, averting your gaze. There was no backing out now, not when Bucky literally blocked the exit with his presence and muscular body.

"You- you felt it." you mumbled, biting your cheek as your cheeks warmed up slightly, gaze glued to the floor.

Bucky huffed, searching for words for a moment. How was he to explain what he felt?

"It- it was like I was back in the forties." he began, licking his lips. "I felt content, happy. And then I saw this... this memory of yours from me. I didn't know you were there, I didn't see you. What does this mean?"

He sounded desperate, and you didn't know whether it was because he didn't want your feelings for him or if it was the exact opposite.

Your name fell from his parted lips when you didn't answer, and had you looked up into his cerulean eyes, you'd seen the desperation, too.

"I can't tell you." you eventually mumbled, biting your cheek raw. "What? Why?" Bucky gave back, eyes widening before he frowned. "Y/N, what does this mean? Please, tell me!"

You looked up at him, your own brows furrowed in a frown.

Why did he want to know so badly?

"You know what it means." you gave back, doing your best not to avoid his gaze this time. His lips parted a fraction before he shook his head. "No." he said. "I want you to say it."

You heart stumbled once more, threatening to burst from the pace it was going at.

Did he want to have something to laugh about? Did he want to make a fool of you?

Swallowing, you shook your head. "No." you breathed out. "I can't."

His gaze hardened slightly, blue irises growing darker. "Say it." he repeated himself, not going to back down.

He'd rather go back to HYDRA than let this opportunity, this chance pass.

Your eyes widened, and you shook your head again. But before you had the chance to decline once more, he said it again, this time louder. "Say it!"

"I have feelings for you!" you blurted out loudly, his agitation causing you to crack and slip up.

Suddenly, the room grew eerily silent, the ringing in your ears blocking out his harsh breathing. His heart was racing way too fast for a man his age, and he forgot how to breathe for a moment.

He had hoped to hear these words, after all they were the only logical explanation, yet he was speechless. Didn't know how to react.

It's never like it is in your dreams.

Especially not when a dream suddenly comes true.

You shrinked back mentally and physically, his lack of response unsettling. It made you more nervous than you already were, hands sweating as you desperately tried to keep your shit together.

Why didn't he say anything?

When you wanted to push past him, and out of the small bathroom, his metal hand wrapped around your wrist. Your sudden movement had broken him out of his stupor, and he simply couldn't just let you go.

Before you knew it, he had tugged you back in front of him, his lips pressing against yours in a searing kiss.

It wasn't gentle, it was hard and rushed, as he tried to somehow tell you what his vocal cords weren't able to at the moment.

You gasped for air, not prepared for being hauled back and kissed breathless like that.

Bucky greedily took the invitation that wasn't one, his tongue pushing inside your mouth, exploring it before it tangled with yours. Your arms wrapped around his neck, his own around your waist as he tugged you closer.

You tasted sweeter than anything he'd ever tasted in his life.

Gasping for breath he let go of your mouth, eyes closed as he leaned his forehead against yours.

"Don't go." he breathed out shakily, arms wrapping tighter around you like he was scared you'd suddenly vanish if he let go. "Please. There's so much I need to tell you. So please, don't go. I need you, Y/N."

You watched his lashes flutter as he inhaled shakily before his eyes opened. His words had your heart beating faster again, leaving you wanting more.

"What? B-Bucky-" you started, confused because you were so sure he'd reject you.

"No." he cut you off, holding your face in his hands. "I love you."

There it was, out in the open. His most vulnerable moment since HYDRA and he delved into it headfirst. "You have no clue how much I love you, how much these words and these... glimpses mean to me, doll."

You inhaled shakily, every emotion rushing through you at once.

"I just never thought you'd feel the same, deem me worthy of someone as angelic as you."

Your heart ached at his self-deprecating words.

"Bucky," you breathed out his name, shaking your head in his grip. "You're far more worthy than you think you are. You deserve everything good and more."

He grimaced slightly, still not used to being a normal human again. "That's an argument for another time." he said, sending you a crooked smile.

He didn't want to fight right now, not when he much rather wanted to pepper your skin with kisses. And that he did. He kissed everywhere he reached, ignoring your giggles of protest before his lips met yours, silencing you.

It was a feeling that quickly got you addicted.

After a few moments, you broke the kiss, and he placed your head on his chest, inahling your familiar scent.

"Was it intenional?" Bucky wanted to know after a few moments of savoring your warmth, arms circled around you.

It felt really good to hold you like that.

You grimaced slightly. "No, of course not." you gave back. "I can't always control it. Besides, I never thought you'd want me."

"Why?" he asked, confusion lacing his voice as he pulled back slightly to look down at you. "Because I'm weird." you explained, blushing as you averted your gaze. Bucky huffed, using his finger to tilt your chin back up, forcing you to meet his gaze. "Baby, weird is my second name." he gave back softly. "Maybe I need a little extra weird."

You wanted to respond something, how you would love to be his extra portion weird, as it suddenly knocked on the door loudly.

"Hurry up, I need to pee!"

Tag List:

@ava @sapphirebarnes @skywalker0809 @freyathehuntress @queenslandlover-93 @judig92

[bikeandarrow]

@lonegun HIT THE ♥ FOR A STARTER

"Shit, Glenn?"

Maybe it shouldn't be so unexpected - hell, Daryl had to admit he felt a little guilty that he was so surprised - but the truth was that he'd expected himself to be alone. Even after all these years, when things got this bad, he only really expected one person by his side, and even it was just a best-case scenario. Merle had always been fickle, even if Daryl knew that he cared, that he tried to be by his side, to have his back. Merle just had his Merle things going on, just as Daryl had his own. Fair enough, he always told himself.

It'd been years, though. Years that this group, his new family, always had his back, so maybe it was shitty of him to think he was on his own. Maybe. Then again, Rick had other problems at hand, other people to look out for, and Glenn...

The options as to what'd happened to him were something Daryl simultaneously tried not think about, and thought about far too often.

"You okay, man? What happened?"

[peterm4rker]

from the rooftops || m.l

in which biochemistry major mark lee didn’t have time to be swinging around the city fighting crime when he had a chemistry report due in two days and a whole plan to make the girl of his dreams to fall in love with him before the new years party.

or

in which journalism major y/n l/n needed her ground breaking story of the year before fuckass yuna took her place in the college newspaper and decided her favorite superhero was the answer, all while trying to get that cute biochem student to notice her.

★ pairing ;; spiderman!mark x journalist!reader

★ genres ;; social media au, written parts, superhero au, slowburn, fluff, strangers to friends to lovers.

★ featuring ;; ph1, aespa, bnd, riize, xikers, other nct units.

★ warnings ;; profanity, sexual jokes and innuendos, death jokes, alcohol use, maybe weed consumption, very mild stalking, let me know if theres more!

★ status ;; ongoing!

★ updates ;; new chapter every monday and thursday !!

★playlist ;; tba...

★ taglist ;; open!

★ blue's corner ;; i cant be peterm4rker without writing a spidermark au, can i? but anywaysss, i love yall enjoy this as much as i know ill enjoy writing it!

★ please do not copy, adapt or steal any of the content !!!

we know what you are || store bought avengers

zero. hey guys…

one. you could do that

two. not quite

three. or so he thought (written)

four. LOCKED IN

five. MARK LEE 🫵🏼

six. mission accomplished

seven. you hate me cuz you aint me💅🏻💅🏻💅🏻

eight. who lied to you

nine. YOU BROKE ME FIRST

ten. the girl in the green beetle (written)

eleven. the bar is in hell

twelve. PREACH🙏🙏

thirteen. i should've ran

fourteen. NOT IT

fifteen. singles speak up✊🏻

sixteen. what a loser

seventeen. surprise picnic (written)

eighteen. crisis adverted

nineteen. I WISH I WAS😭

twenty. creepy as hell

twenty one. yn protectors

twenty two. the creep ™

twenty three. the conundrum

twenty four. mark fucking lee

© peterm4rker, 2024

[hwallazia]

❅ ₊ ⋆ A LIL’ NASTY UNDER THE MISTLETOE

nic’s notes ⋆ hello, lovelies, and welcome to my very first event! i figured that since i’ve been ia for a little too long, i could repay y’all in some way. <3 i’ll do my best to complete everything. happy almost xmas season! (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)

warnings ⋆ all the scenarios will contain mature content. minors, please, do not interact with any of them + all fanfictions will have their warnings explicitly stated right below the link to the story.

fancy joining santa’s naughty list? click here.

TAKE MY DICK GIFT ! feat. kang yeosang.

⋆ synopsis. xmas eve’s finally here, and you & yeosang start your little gift exchange. you had bought your boyfriend — apart from a huge stack of videogames for him to vibe with & new headphones — some naughty gifts such as a little bullet vibrator & a fleshlight. little did you know he did the exact same thing. xmas eve was about to get real nasty.

warnings. tba

SUGAR SLEIGH RIDE ! feat. jeong yunho.

⋆ synopsis. caught in the chaos of an unexpected snowstorm, you and your brother’s best friend find yourselves stranded with no choice but to take shelter at his apartment. as the temperature drops and the cold seeps in, the crackling fireplace isn’t quite enough to keep him warm—so he turns to you for a different kind of heat.

warnings. tba

XMAS DINNER GOES WRONG ! feat. jung wooyoung.

⋆ synopsis. it seems like your husband can’t keep it in his pants, not even on a fucking christmas dinner with his family. but, as the lovely wifey you are, you gotta give him some relief, right?

warnings. married! au, almost getting caught, teasing, dirty nasty talk, squirting, unprotected sex, etc.

TIE ME UP LIKE I’M YOUR GIFT ! feat. song mingi.

⋆ synopsis. using restraints in the bedroom had been a fantasy of yours for the longest time—and xmas felt like the perfect excuse to make it a reality. armed with red velvet ribbons and a cheeky plan, you were ready to heat things up. but what you didn’t anticipate was just how much your fiancé would enjoy the idea—maybe even more than you.

warnings. tba

A LIL’ SEASONAL TURBULENCE ! feat. park seonghwa.

⋆ synopsis. on a flight to korea to visit your in-laws, seonghwa decides that a simple “merry xmas” just won’t cut it. instead, he opts for something far more daring—a surprise that leaves you breathless and pulled into the airplane’s tiny bathroom.

warnings. tba

ARCH MY BACK LIKE THAT VIOLIN ! feat. choi san.

⋆ synopsis. chosen to perform a violin solo for a xmas recital, he practices tirelessly at home. the haunting melody fills the air, but it’s the way his fingers move masterfully over the strings that stirs something deep within you, leaving you shifting in your seat. when his sharp gaze locks onto yours, he realizes exactly what kind of performance you’re craving—and he’s more than ready to deliver.

warnings. bf violinist! san, praise kink, dacryphilia, bulge kink, squirting, breeding kink, finger fucking, creampie, etc.

HOT TO GO ! feat. kim hongjoong.

⋆ synopsis. during a xmas eve dinner with your family, your best friend disappears. concerned, you search the entire apartment complex, only to stumble upon him watching porn alone. unable to resist, you decide to tease him a bit about it.

warnings. friends to lovers! au, getting caught, teasing, praise, blowjob, getting interrupted, dirty talk, etc.

· all credits are reserved to © hwallazia — 2024.

[bundlesofchaos]

Its finally done!! Group Pic of the grandkiddos!! Not as many here as the first Gen fan kids but they are just as colorful.

[slut4hee]

Never Have I Ever, Fell In Love With A Psycho | S.JY Teaser

{Paring: Ghostface Jake x Blk Cheerleader Fem! Reader

Release date: Tba

{Synopsis: You are the Star Cheerleader of Woodsboro University, Highly favored by your professors and well loved by your peers. You’re known for being a kind hearted soul, who volunteers to help host the charity events at your school and playing your role as the notorious team captain of the cheer squad. So what could you have possibly done to become Ghostface’s target?

{Genre: smut, serial killer themes, angst, Jake is batshit crazy, college au, 18+ so (mdni).

{Warnings: explicit scenes, rough sex, oral (m&r receiving), unprotected sex, breeding kink, cum eating, knife play, dirty talk, fingering, pet names, mentions of murder, possessive behavior, obsession (Jake), stalking, character death (not reader or Jake), Jealousy, one sided love at first (Jake), profanities, kidnapping.

🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮

Your heart pounds out of your chest rapidly as tears and your now ruined eyeliner runs down your face. You sprint through the hallways of the school running for dear life, hoping and praying that whatever fucked up nightmare this was you will wake up from it soon. You can hear their eerie dark voice and evil menacing laugh behind you causing the hairs on the back of your neck to stand up.

Your vision is blurred from the tears that won’t stop falling from your eyelids, fear consumes you whole as you hear the footsteps getting closer and closer to you. Your breathing is ragged, your heart feels like it’s gonna explode any minute from the adrenaline that’s rushing through your veins.

They’re hot on your tail, you can hear them everywhere around you, from behind you, and in your head completely taking over your brain cells. Finally barging into a empty classroom you lock the door shut.

You spot a storage closet making your way into it, you place your hand over your mouth trying to ground yourself from making any noise while trying to control your breathing. You hear what sounds like the sound of metal dragging against the wall piercing through your eardrums.

The waterworks continues as you try to calm yourself down, fighting the urge to scream out loud because you’re so damn terrified. Your heart sinks to your stomach when you hear the door to the classroom slam open.

You hear footsteps walking slowly across the perfectly polished vinyl floors. A knife can be heard being slowly dragged against the desk causing a horrible sound to echo throughout the classroom causing your breath to hitch.

Your eyes go wide when you realize you given yourself away and you pray to god you wake up from this shitty nightmare as soon as possible. The footsteps grow closer to the storage closet as you peak out the little opening of the closet door.

A figure can be seen wearing a black hooded robe, a white skull like mask, and black gloves. You’re full on going into a state of panic when you recognize the masked person from the news and pictures and posters that’s been posted all around campus.

You heard the masked killer goes by Ghostface and he’s known for being a very heartless brutal serial killer. he’s killed 20 people so far and your heart sinks knowing you will mark the 21st person he murders if he was to kill you.

Just as you are processing the information in your head the door to the closet door swings open and you’re met with none other then Ghostface himself. Your heart feels like it’s not beating anymore as time seems to stop.

You don’t move a muscle, completely frozen and paralyzed from the fear and anxiety that’s coursing through your veins. The masked person slightly tilts their head to the side almost like they’re studying your every move.

Finally building up enough strength to speak you decide to do what anyone would do in this situation, beg for their life to spared.

“P-Please don’t kill me, I haven’t done anything wrong to you please I don’t want to die I’ll do anything you want just please don’t murder me” you plead from the bottom of your heart, hoping Ghostface will let you go. The masked figure doesn’t say a word but just stares at you. His breathing coming in steady and calm causing a gut wrenching chill to run down your spine.

suddenly the masked figure starts to chuckle lowly almost mockingly as they bring the cold metal knife to your chin gently lifting your face being careful to not cut through your pretty brown skin and finally they speak.

“Oh Y/n baby, how could you think so little of me? You think I would hurt the most precious thing I hold dearly to me? Do you think I would harm you my darling love, I’m so disappointed in you my love I thought you would’ve known better” the masked figure leans closer to your face, you can feel his hot breath on your neck as he whispers in your ear.

“You mean the world to me my sweet baby, I could never harm you I will kill myself before I lay a finger on you my dear” they hum reassuringly, tucking one of your braids behind your ear.

“W-Who are you! I-I don’t even know who you are how could you possibly be in love with me” you managed to blurt out despite of being scared for your life. Your eyes widened when the masked figure slowly removes their mask, revealing none other than Jake Sim, the top student in your physics class, the guy who never really speaks to anyone, the guy who sits in the back distant from everyone, the guy who nobody would have thought would be committing these horrible murders.

“What’s wrong baby girl? Surprised to see me” Jake smirks at you with an evil unhinged smile, the fear consumes you still, but the flutter in your stomach and the way your heart skips a beat has you questioning your sanity and now you find yourself asking yourself are you just as insane as him?

To be continued…

A/n: eeeee I’m so excited to write this story, I’m so down bad for Ghostface Jake so I know I’m gonna be creaming nonstop while writhing this 😭 but guys I hope you enjoy the teaser because i literally suck at writing them. Please feel free to reblog, share, comment, and like muah 💋.



[luvyeni]

— MY SHY NEIGHBOR ( YANG JEONGIN ) !

( synopsis ). you move into a new apartment after breaking up with your horrible ex and you met the boy next door… jeongin is shy, and can barely speak to a girl, that’s until he starts talk to a camgirl who brings out different side of him, a cam who seems oddly familiar.

pairings. yang jeongin x camgirl!reader

genre. cam girl au, strangers2lovers, mature, social media au,

warnings. mature themes, crude language, sex work, smut… more to be announced …

started. 11.10.23

finished. tba

💬 nia's notes. this is only FICTION this does not represent any straykids member or any other idol in anyway.

— 𖦹 PROFILES !

000. meet everyone 🖤 …

— 𖦹 CHAPTERS !

001. moved in 📦💕…

002. the girl in the elevator …

003. lovestreams …

004. the elevator …

005. may he not be 70 🙏🏻 …

006. yeni <3 …

007. HE TALKED TO A GIRL🎉🎊🍾 …

008. video chat with yeni <3 …

009. daddy issues 🎉 ( debatable ) …

010. night out 🥩🤍 …

011. locked out ...

012. last night after math …

013. who that? ...

014. my favorite cashier 🥰🤍…

015. l0vergirl …

016. oh …

017. ghosted 💔 …

018. i like you ...

019. movie date 🎥🤍 …

020. movie date 🎥🤍 pt.2 …

021. morning after ...

022. disturbing my peace 😐 ...

023. jealous innie ...

024. perfect date ...

025. worst day ever 😭 ...

026. paint date ...

027. after the date ...

028. girlfriend 🤭 ...

— 𖦹 EPILOGUE !

029. special guest ...

030. amature pornstar ...

— ( taglist closes the day of release but i’ll open it up the end when finished )

©LUVYENI

[itsmewahoo]

Devs of VA-11 Hall-A have finally announced their new game

.45 PARABELLUM BLOODHOUND has been teased quite a few times (under the code name Project D) but has now been officially announced. It is an 'Active Time Action' game where the combat is heavily inspired by Parasite Eve

"The pitch: You play as Reila Mikazuchi; a washed out mercenary whose glory days are long gone. In a last attempt at grabbing life by the horns she decides to go back to the life, only to realize the real enemy isn’t in front of her gun."

"We’re currently aiming for seven chapters; five of which are currently playable from start to finish. Most of the features are already locked in, as well as the story."

Release date TBA

The demo will be playable at BitSummit Drift in Kyoto, Japan. But stay tuned as they will release a trailer on July 19th

More info about this game and about the current status of VA-11 Hall-A's sequel, N1RV Ann-A on their WEBSITE

[skzdarlings]

the kingsguard ; jisung x reader ; part vi

part one| part two | part three | part four | part five | part six | tba | ao3 link

pairing: han jisung/reader summary: You are a queen. He is a kingsguard - a member of a holy order that vows to defend the king in the name of the gods. They forsake all earthly goods and swear a vow of chastity to avoid all worldly temptation. When he stands in as proxy for the royal wedding, all those vows are tested.

content info: reader described with curly hair. this is the second to last chapter.

content warnings: the previously established story dynamics continue in this chapter. this chapter has a very explicit sex scene with reader/jisung. desperation, vow-breaking, grinding, making out, cunnilingus, piv, secret forbidden love affair, having to be quiet to not get caught, covering each other's mouths, generally lots of description of worship in a sexual context.

chapter word count: 14000 words.

enjoy <3

-

You dream about Han Jisung.  As if he has not entirely consumed your waking thoughts, he has even stolen into your dreams.  He is there with a smile, a song, and so much tenderness that you are aching from the moment you open your eyes.

“Oh,” is all you say, a whisper in your empty bed.

You rise and dress yourself, already mentally bracing for the long day ahead. Though you are determined to navigate yourself through the viper’s nest that is the king’s court, you must be very cautious while doing so.  There are real, deadly ramifications for what you did – for what you want to do again.  Though you will strive to maintain whatever possible liberties, you must not become complacent in the meanwhile. 

You do not want this to end before it can truly begin. 

You fear the light of day will reveal everything that transpired.  You feel a revolution in yourself, not just in the literal aches and tingles, but something in the very core of your being.  You feel like someone will see it a glance, in the way you move or carry yourself.  How could they not?  It changed everything. 

Your first encounter is Changbin.  There was another guard switch in the early hours of morning, sparing Minho some rest before due departure.   You are glad.   Minho heard everything last night and you were not keen on starting the day with that confrontation.   He has proven himself to be reliable, having returned the sleeping draft with little reservation, and he is clearly an intimate companion that Jisung trusts wholeheartedly so it is not doubt for his stalwart dependability that makes you hesitate – just pure embarrassment. 

Changbin does not seem to notice anything untoward.  He does not make a single remark against your disposition, so you safely exhale as he escorts you through the camp. 

The king is still sleeping and no one is brave enough to prod him awake.  He will probably be angry in either scenario, so it has been decided to let him lay until he stirs on his own. 

It feels as though the entire contingency has released a long-held breath.  There is chatter and some games, people wandering about, eating and ambling without the stress of a holy gaze and its accompanying vocal thunder. 

Foot soldiers mill about the camp.  Chan guards the king.  Seungmin and Jeongin scout the perimeter for dangerous activity, on greater alert because of the assassination attempt. 

That leaves the remaining few kingsguards nearby.   Minho is slouched against a tree, peeling an orange and laughing at Hyunjin and Jisung who are locked in a very theatrical swordfight.  Changbin is clearly eager to join so you get some food then happily head in that direction. 

“Yah, you call that fighting?” Changbin teases.

Jisung turns, just a brief glance of acknowledgement until he sees you and stumbles.  His sword is loose in his grip, like he has forgotten all his training, like he doesn’t even remember being a kingsguard. 

You forget yourself too.  Your mouth is open with some pleasant greeting utterly obliterated in the face of his longing gaze.  Last night should have tempered all this quiet yearning but it seems to have exacerbated it. 

This exchange is only seconds, though it feels like hours.  Jisung might have forgotten himself but Hyunjin has not.  He knocks Jisung on the back and Jisung falls over, sword flying and palms skidding across the forest floor.  He coughs through the little puff of dirt that bursts under impact. 

“Tsk, task,” Changbin continues to tease.  “You make it too easy.” 

“Ah-ha-ha,” Jisung says, clapping his hands to clean them.  He stands then bends at the waist, bowing to you.  “My queen.  Good morning.” 

“Good morning,” you reply, dipping your head respectfully in turn.  You greet Hyunjin as he bows too. 

You look at Minho long enough for him to bow his head then smile.  It is not taunting, at least not with any true malice.  An amused dimple indents his cheek and there is a sparkle in his eye.

“Your Majesty,” he says.  “I hope you slept well.” 

“Quite fine,” you say, feeling very hot in the face. 

“Ah.”  Minho wiggles an orange slice.  “Just fine, hm?”  He looks at Jisung and cackles maniacally at his exasperated expression.   He pops the orange slice into his mouth and smiles while chewing. 

Hyunjin looks at him funny but Changbin is non-plussed, unintentionally diverting the conversation when he says, “The king is sleeping more than fine, hey.” 

This distracts Hyunjin who immediately scoffs. He tosses his sword, spinning it with a flick of his wrist, and catches it just as smoothly.  He opens his mouth to speak. 

Changbin interjects, “Ah, ah, ah, you watch your pretty mouth.  You’ve blasphemed enough, kingsguard.” 

“Kingsguard.”  Hyunjin looks at his sword, runs his finger up the shiny reflection with a contemplative regard.  “There’s no king here right now,” he says.  “That makes me a queensguard, doesn’t it?” 

“It’s the same thing,” Changbin says, diplomatic. 

Hyunjin smiles, though it lacks amusement, just a dry upturn of his lips. 

“If you insist,” he says. 

“Hey, hey, hey,” Jisung sings, wiggling into the middle of their rapport.  “King, queen, god, man – a vow is a vow.  We all know why we’re here, right? Right. Right. Awesome.” 

“I know why you’re here,” Hyunjin says, tapping Jisung with the blunt flat of his sword.  “It was to lose against me, as usual, wasn’t it?” 

“Ohhhh-ha-ha!” Jisung slashes his sword through the air with an ostentatious flourish.   “The pretty boy has jokes now.” 

“Bard boy,” Hyunjin retorts, teasing.  He curls his fingers, gesticulating for an approach.  “If you dare.” 

The boys return to their fighting, as playful as it is impressive.  You seat yourself beside Minho, though the sight of the queen on the forest ground does make Changbin squeak.  Regardless, he does not protest and Minho seems to understand your character well enough that it does not surprise him at all.  He simply hands you an orange slice. 

You watch Hyunjin and Jisung, smiling as they parry.  Minho and Changbin explain some of the manoeuvres, bringing an understanding to the harmony of their frantic steps and slashes. 

It is not surprising there is so much detail in even the simplest action.  The kingsguards do not fight with half-hearted swings, nor do they stumble with overemotional, retaliatory strikes.  Every step, every parry, every breath, is so carefully planned, so meticulously practiced, so utterly engrained in their every movement. 

In truth, you see it even when they are at rest.  Chan is the most natural with his authoritative air and quick reactions, having trained for so much of his youth.  Hyunjin moves with a dance-like fluidity even when he is not fighting, as if his long limbs are cutting through water.  Minho has a limber quick-footedness, sometimes disguised in an insouciant slouch, but quick to action when the inclination so strikes.  Every action that Changbin makes is a powerful one, as precise as it is strong.  Jeongin and Seungmin both have keen eyes and quick reflexes, their training and perseverance plain in every dedicated movement. 

Han Jisung is good at everything.  He can play at unassuming, so much so even the king does not see his utmost capabilities, but it is obvious that he has a vast repertoire of skill to call upon at any given moment.

Watching him and Hyunjin fight is exhilarating.  As you begin to understand their footwork and motions, it becomes even more impressive. 

“Show her the double knot,” Minho says, calling out like a spectator at a show.

He clearly delights in pestering his friends but Jisung and Hyunjin are having fun.  They both relish the opportunity to flaunt their skills so they happily indulge his request. 

With wide eyes, you watch their swords clash.  Sparks burst where the metal scrapes at the angle of collision.  The men whirl around each other and bring their swords together again.  They continue to weave and parry, every step lightning quick.  It appears to be a defensive manoeuvre rather than an assault, but it is an extraordinary feat of speed and fortitude regardless. 

“Well done,” you say, applauding. 

Jisung sweeps into an exaggerated bow only for Hyunjin to kick him over.  You laugh as he chases after Hyunjin as if he intends to clobber him with his sword.  It makes Hyunjin laugh too, his face so bright when overcome with delight.  He clearly feels all his emotions very strongly.  You believe all these brave young men fight with as much as emotion as skill.  The kingsguard service is not just about soldiership, but faith and all that which is contained in the heart. 

They deserve a far better companion than the tyrant king.  That is what their monarch should be, a companion, a friend, a being more heart than ego. 

“I am duly impressed,” you say when the boys finish another bout. 

By now, their breathing is a little heavier. The morning is creeping toward noon, the heat intensifying with each passing moment.  You are tucked in the shade but the kingsguards move in and out of sunlight, no doubt warm in their black robes.  Still, they do not remove it. 

Not right now at least, you think, looking at the swish of Jisung’s cloak, remembering as it fell from his shoulders and he fell into your arms.  You feel flustered, letting the memory of each touch wash over you.  When Jisung finds your gaze, you swear you can see his own recollections teeming. 

“Show her the Levanter,” Minho calls, interrupting your shared daydreaming. 

Jisung snaps out of it.  He looks at Minho with a sardonic quirk of his brow. 

“Oh, now he’s got jokes too,” Jisung says, pointing to Minho while Hyunjin laughs. 

“The Levanter,” you repeat the word slowly, letting the weight of it linger.  “Levanter – like the god?” 

“The god of guardians,” Hyunjin says with a blazing look in his eye.  He tips his head back, gazing heavenward as he points with his sword to the skies.  “Levanter stands guard at the gates of the heavens.  The eternal vow-keeper.  He has never surrendered his post.” 

“Yes,” you say, nodding respectfully.  “I imagine the kingsguard revere him most of all.” 

“All the scripture is important,” Changbin adds, nodding too.  “But yes, the kingsguard order prays to Levanter for guidance before the rest.” 

“You do him a service,” you say.  “I suppose the Levanter manoeuvre must be particularly noteworthy to be named after him.” 

“You can say that,” Jisung says with a little laugh.  He runs his fingers through his hair. 

You feel like a prepubescent girl again, warm and flushed just watching his dark hair feather through his fingers, watching those fingers come down to his sword hilt, watching the movement of his hand as he grasps and twists. 

Truthfully, you forget your question – or was it a statement? – and it takes Minho gently nudging you to remember. 

“Levanter,” you say, shaking your head.  You smile politely.  “What is the manoeuvre then?”

Minho cackles.  Changbin reaches down to cuff him across the back of his head.  Minho snaps his jaws in return, like he intends to gnaw on Changbin like a disgruntled kitten. 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Changbin says.  To you, he speaks more politely, “The Levanter is not a manoeuvre that can actually be performed.” 

“Well, it can be,” Jisung corrects, slashing his sword through the air.  He grins, a big, theatrical smile, wiggling his eyebrows.  “But it can only be performed once.” 

“Only once,” you say.  “What do you mean?” 

“All kingsguards are trained to master all manoeuvres and operations,” Hyunjin says, speaking a little more seriously than the others, still with that reverent look in his eye.  “But the Levanter has only been used a few times over the centuries.  It’s an… honourable death and killing.”

“Death and killing,” you repeat.  Your stomach twists with a little bit of anxiety, the weight this implication landing.  Though you know there is no real danger right at this precise moment, considering such dramatic circumstances makes you uneasy.  “You mean…” 

“It kills your opponent,” Jisung says, voice a little softer, perhaps seeing the unease on your face.  “It just… also kills…”

“Yourself,” you say, to which they both nod.  “Surely, there would never be a reason for such a manoeuvre?”

“Not necessarily,” Hyunjin says, a little less attuned to your discomfort, more excited to explain himself.  He sheathes his sword while speaking.  “It’s the last and final option for a kingsguard, when he has no other choice in front of him.  If death is inevitable, there is no dishonour in ending your own life if it means fulfilling your service to defend the crown.  So… in example… if a kingsguard was taken by an enemy who meant to torture or use them against heaven’s earthly sovereign, then it would be appropriate for the kingsguard to take action, to kill his opponent and himself so he could not be used.”

“My goodness,” you say.  “That – that’s very – ”

“It looks like this,” Hyunjin says. 

He draws a dagger from the folds of his robes, a weapon you did not even realize was concealed in the swathes of dark fabric.  In a blink, he draws back his arm and hurls the dagger.  It whizzes past Jisung and thuds into a tree.  You do not even have the chance to gasp before Hyunjin has drawn his sword and turned it towards himself.  He slams onto his knees, sliding the sword safely along his side and tucking it under his arm. 

You understand.  The kingsguard would throw a dagger at his opponent, killing them with a fatal injury, and he would just as swiftly fall on his own sword.  It would not slide past his side, but through his ribs and into his own heart.  He would kill both of them in one stroke.  It would take a lot of precision, but that would be easy for a soldier like Hyunjin, who is primarily a bowman.  Aim and precision is his specialty. 

You don’t want to imagine it, though. Jisung is right; this manoeuvre can only be performed once.  Hyunjin’s demonstration is harmless but you understand the visual. 

“My goodness,” you say again.  “I knew the kingsguard was devout, but that… that…” 

“Like we said before,” Jisung says gently.  “It’s easy to be devout when the queen is true.  Your Majesty, you are worth that.”

You are worth dying for, he means, gazing at you with those shiny dark eyes.  It is an extraordinary proclamation.  It makes your breath catch. 

“I appreciate the sentiment,” you say.  You manage to speak softly though your heart thumps heavily.  “But I would prefer my queensguards live for me instead.”

“Your Majesty,” Hyunjin says, bowing.

The conversation is swiftly halted by a familiar raging voice.  The king has risen and he is not happy. 

What a surprise, you think.  Though no one vocalizes the sentiment, the frowns and sighs reveal a similar thought in your guards.  Despite the obvious reluctance, the king must be greeted, so the guards sheath their weapons and compose themselves. 

Changbin offers his hands and pulls you to your feet.  You accept his arm as he escorts you towards the centre of the camp.  Servants are bustling about, frantically tearing down what remains of the encampment.  They were taking their time as the king slept, but now it is well past departure time and he has no patience for dithering. 

Chan is beside the king, looking gloomy and austere.  His hand flexes on the hilt of his sword.  He stares at the king and only moves when he sees you.

Flanked by guards, your approach is difficult to ignore.  The king stutters in his speechifying.

“You.”  He hurls the word. 

You do not match his conduct.  You remain stoic and graceful, simply dipping into a respectful bow of greeting.  You say nothing and hope nothing is all he sees.  His glare is so fiery that you believe he might suspect you are responsible for his impromptu slumber.  However, he clearly cannot comprehend how that would be.

You are not forthcoming.  You simply stand before him, eyes downturned, with no answers to be given. 

He takes a breath.  It sounds like preparation to bellow. 

Before he can shout or accuse or even blink, there is a mad disruption in the camp.  The kingsguards grab their sword hilts, forming a protective circle around just you.  Chan grips his own sword hilt, striding forward to see what is causing the commotion. 

It is Seungmin and Jeongin, riding into the camp like there are devils on their tails. 

“Assassins,” Seungmin says, stopping just in front of Chan.  It takes him a second to calm his excited horse, trotting back and forth as he looks down at the kingsguard captain.  “We were scouting the perimeter, behind and ahead,” Seungmin continues.  “Some of the bandits from the unit the other day – they were camped not far from the main road.  They know we’re travelling that way.  They know—”  He looks at you, solemn.  “They know we have something they want.” 

“The queen is in danger!”  Jeongin blurts.  He looks a little more frantic than Seungmin, his horse equally agitated.  His expression is screwed up tight with lines of anxiety.  “Chan – Captain – We have to do something.” 

“Ridiculous,” the king says.  “There’s no more bandits on these roads.  The queen is not in any danger.  We cannot waste more time with delays.  I want to be back in the capital by—”

“Your Majesty,” Chan says, facing him squarely.  “Can you confirm unequivocally there are no more bandits waiting in those trees?”  His expression perceptibly darkens, downright menacing with the intensity of his stare.  “And if so, would you mind explaining where and how you acquired that knowledge?” 

The camp feels very silent.  Only the horses dare to make noise, plodding back and forth.  Seungmin soothes his animal, brushing his hand along the mane.   He, like everyone else, is looking at the king. 

Chan’s accusation is plain.  He looks at the king and challenges him.  He outright dares him to admit that the previous attack was targeted against you and that he arranged it.   Of course, the king does not admit this, but he has no other answer prepared either.  He stumbles over an aggrieved retort.  In the time it takes him to think, Chan shakes his head. 

“There is only one road between here and the capital big enough for a caravan to pass,” Chan says.  “It doesn’t surprise me enemies would wait on it.” 

He approaches you.  You hands began trembling from the first mention of the assassins, but your fear is somewhat assuaged by the protective circle of your guards.  Chan looks at them, then bows his head to you. 

“Your Majesty,” he says.  “It’s obvious these roads are not safe at this time.  If I may, I would like to separate you from the rest of the royal train.” 

The king scoffs indignantly but you feel relief regardless.  Chan is separating you from the royal retinue.  More importantly, he is separating you from the king.  It feels like a weight slides right off your shoulders.   You have won some more time and distance. 

“There are faster paths to the capital,” he says.  “But they won’t fit the wagons. Changbin, I’ll leave you in charge of leading the train back to the city without me, and I’ll personally take the queen ahead.  You continue as planned and be mindful of any attacks.  We’ll be long gone before anyone realizes we’re not with the caravan.” 

“You will do such thing!” the king snaps.  “Am I to be used as bait to lure these assassins while you protect that disobedient creature?  Remember your vows, captain!” 

Chan is facing you, his back to the king.  You watch his expression contort with frustration, a muscle in his jaw twitching as he holds that anger within.  You do not remotely blame him.  It is preposterously insulting for the king to accuse him of disrespecting his vows after everything the king has done.

Despite his aggravation, Chan maintains composure, turning to face the king. 

Chan is not especially giant, not in physicality.  The king is technically taller than him.  However, the kingsguard captain has such a domineering and confident air that it somehow dwarfs other men in relation.  The king has to make a point of holding his head up, but Chan overwhelms him with his sheer presence. 

“You’re right, Your Majesty,” Chan says, an edge to his voice despite the respectful address.  “I’ve sworn a vow as kingsguard leader to always stay at your side.”

“Precisely,” the king says.  He looks at you with a smug little smirk, clearly feeling that he has wrestled back his control. 

It takes a great deal of effort not to return a glare.  You let a breath shudder past your lips.  Hopefully it is mistaken for nerves and not irritation.   

“Yes,” Chan continues.  “That’s why I and the lower soldiers will stay behind to take you back to the capital.”  He looks at the guards gathered around you.  “And the rest of the kingsguards will escort the queen.” 

“What!”  The king reacts like he was slapped. 

You try not to laugh, swallowing the sound.  Hyunjin barely restrains it as his shoulders jump.  Jisung bites his bottom lip and looks at you sidelong.  You look back, smiling the subtlest smile you dare. 

“It’s the only choice of action, Your Majesty,” Chan says to the king, speaking with saccharine sweetness, as if explaining a complicated concept to a child.  “The gods-chosen queen has to be protected.  And because I have to stay with you, it goes without saying that the remaining guards have to stay with her.  We can’t allow any harm to come to her, can we?  Because that would be a violation of your vows.”  With that, Chan’s expression turns menacing again, brows slanting into an angry furrow.  “And you don’t want to be the first king in centuries to stand in violation of his vows.  Do you?”

The king has no reply.  The blatant threat stuns him into uncharacteristic silence. 

“Good,” Chan says, smiling.  “I’m glad we agree.  It’s the will of the gods, after all.  Seungmin, Jeongin.”  He turns to the guards.  “Pack the horses accordingly.  Bring a tent and bedroll for the queen.  Pack lightly, though.  Speed is imperative. Changbin, Minho, come with me and we’ll map your route to the capital.  If something happens, you’ll send a rider out to me.  You should arrive at least a week ahead of us if you maintain pace.” 

The king flounders, his mouth open with an interjection, but he is not afforded a moment to speak.  Chan is moving from person to person, issuing orders. 

“Hyunjin, Han,” Chan says.  “Ensure the queen has everything she needs.  My Queen, I apologize, but for the sake of your safety you may not be able to travel in the most comfort, and I would recommend you bring only the necessities.  We will safely deliver the rest of your trunks and belongings within the week.”

“Captain.”  You lay a hand over your heart, full of gratitude.  “I understand completely.  I commend your quick thinking.  You are an exemplary credit to your gods and the crown.”

“I’m glad you think so, Your Majesty,” Chan says, bowing.  “Safe travels.”  He turns to the king and gestures ahead, lifting a pointed brow.  “Well, we better hurry, Your Majesty.  As you were saying before, we don’t want to waste more time, do we?  It’s you and me now.  Without all these distractions, we’ll have opportunities in the nights ahead to pray to the gods for their revelation, provided you don’t fall asleep before we can.” 

Remarkably, you keep a straight face as Chan and the king retreat.  You, Hyunjin, and Jisung quietly make your way to the wagon with your trunks.  When safely out of sight of the sovereign and his clever captain, the three of you exchange a glance and promptly dissolve into laughter.  You try to contain it, desperately shaking your head, but it’s no use.  Hyunjin leans against the wagon, eyes closed while a laughing tear slides down his cheek.  Jisung doubles over, hands on his knees and shoulders shaking. 

“Did you see his face?”  Jisung wheezes.  He stands up, holding his middle like the laughter caused a strain.  “Ohhhh, sweet gods.  Forgive me.”  He makes the gesture of a blessing, crossing the symbol over his body and gazing heavenward.  It doesn’t stop his incessant giggling. 

“Shhh,” you say because it is appropriate, though your own laughter is still flowing.

Hyunjin covers his mouth and releases the rest of his laughter in the cup of his hand.  When you are all settled, you finish your task, only the occasional giggle as interruption.  You pack a small bag of necessities then meet the other kingsguards where they are arranging the horses.  The rest of the camp continues to prepare its own journey, though a few people watch as the kingsguards gather.  They make quite a sight, forming arrangement on horseback, their black robes flowing around them. 

Of course, the king does not see the value of their presence.  He focusses on a ridiculous detail, pointing to Hyunjin as the kingsguard mounts his horse.      

“She is not to ride with that one!” the king says. 

Hyunjin lays a hand over his heart, closing his eyes and looking dramatically sorrowful. 

“Han,” Chan says.  He sighs and gestures to Jisung.  “If you don’t mind taking the queen again.” 

Minho laughs.  He is perched on his own horse, reigns in one hand, rubbing the bridge of his nose with the other. 

“Of course,” Jisung says.  He bows quickly to Chan then spins towards you.  His hand emerges from the dark layers of his robes, held out to you in offering.  

He is wearing riding gloves, leather covering each finger to the knuckle.  You gaze at that hand and remember every tender touch. 

You lay your hand in his.  Even with the leather barrier, sparks ignite where your palms touch.  A frisson ripples all through your body, a still pond brought to life by a dropped pebble.   

He smiles at you.  The tips of his ears are more than a little red but no one else looks for that detail.  The king is glaring at Hyunjin who is simply staring at his own nails.  Chan is speaking with Minho who has assumed position at the front of the little contingency. 

Jisung holds your hand and takes the reigns of his horse with the other.  He guides you to the middle of the protective circle of guards.  Minho takes the lead, Seungmin and Jeongin flanking either side of you, with Hyunjin and Changbin defending the rear. 

You nod at them, smiling.  Jisung squeezes your hand as he turns you around to face him.  Your breath catches yet again when your eyes meet.  You fall into those dark eyes so easily, deep brown and fathomless.  You like his face so much, the softness of his features, the openness of his expression. 

He takes your waist in his hands.  There is a swooping rush in your belly as he lifts you.  So distracted with his eyes and face, you almost forgot what strength is hidden in the layers of holy black cloth.  He helps you onto the horse then smoothly swings up behind you. 

He lands with a soft little bounce, comfortably settling himself.  He flicks his robes with an unnecessary flourish and you bite your bottom lip to keep from giggling. He puts a finger to his lips, playfully scolding you. 

“You are incorrigible,” you murmur. 

His arms move around you as he picks up the reigns. His hips come forward, his chest against your back.  A flush of warmth moves through you.   It starts somewhere intimate, lower than that swooping rush, your body remembering all the ways he touched you and aching for it again.  It startles you, how easily that feeling comes when you never felt it before.  Now it is all you can think about, his body against yours, his breath on the nape of your neck. 

“Am I?” he asks in a soft, light voice. 

“Oh yes,” you answer quickly.  It makes him laugh. 

The king is not pleased with laughter but the king does not have a chance to say anything.  Chan steps back and waves his men forward.  Minho whistles and the kingsguards rear into action.  The guards answer with a shout here and there, the horses kick with adrenaline, then the whole party bursts like lightning, fast as they fire across the earth and away from camp. 

You look over your shoulder, watching as the waiting figures shrink in size.  The king disappears and you smile, safe with Jisung’s arms around you.

-

You ride fast, careening down forest trails and cresting small hills far faster than the royal retinue would lumber along.   

Rest comes sooner too.  The kingsguards dismount to water their horses and themselves. 

Jisung leaps off his horse and holds out his arms to you.  You thank him, sliding into his waiting embrace where you linger just a moment too long. 

His eyes stray to a frizzy curl on your head.  Instinctively, he smooths it out.  You feel it all the way down your body, right to your toes.  You are a little sore from such hard riding and it does not help your shaking, knees knocking as his fingertips sweep down the side of your face. 

“There,” he says, meeting your gaze with a smile. 

“Quite,” you reply. 

It is not what you want to say.  You want to ask when you can touch each other again and if he even wants to, though you suspect he does.  It’s in his eyes, the way he looks at every part of you.  It’s all-encompassing, fond and wanting, lingering too long in the places he dares to look.  He stares into your eyes, studies your expressions, gazes at your mouth. 

Your lips part as if in natural obedience.  His tongue touches his bottom lip and you feel tingles.  You know what that mouth feels like on your skin.  Just the recollection makes your insides melt.  How did you even survive that?  You want to try again and find out.   

Now is not the time.  The king might be far away but the kingsguards surround you.  You trust Minho but it is hard to say how the others might react.  Hyunjin clearly does not respect the king, having decided he is not the true representation of the gods, but it is obvious this feeling derives from a steadfast devotion.  Just because he does not like the king, it does not mean he will be okay with Jisung breaking his vows.  The same goes for the others.  They are your allies for now and you need to keep them on your side before pushing further. 

This attraction is difficult to navigate.  You are not experienced with desire, having avoided it thus far in life.  It suited you then but things are different with Jisung.  You find yourself reaching for him without thinking, brushing some hair across his forehead, then letting the back of your knuckles skim his cheek.  When he makes a light sound, an airy whine just from that simple touch, your poor trembling legs nearly give up altogether. 

Fortunately, you maintain your faculties.  You manage to separate when Jeongin approaches.  He does not appear to notice the intimacy of that fleeting exchange.  His eyes are locked on some distant point, brow furrowed with deeply set anxiety.   His hand is on the hilt of his sword, gripping it so tightly it shakes a little.  His hair is dishevelled and not just from the exertion of riding, but like he has been frantically jamming his fingers in it, tugging at the scalp with fright. 

“Kingsguard Jeongin,” you say with a nod of acknowledgement.  “Is there something you need?”

He shakes his head.  He nods.  He shakes his head again.  

“Uh, you all right, man?” Jisung asks. 

Jeongin abruptly drops to his knees and throws his hands together in supplication.  He closes his eyes but it does not stop the few tears that fall.

“Oh!” you yelp, startled. 

“Whoa, hey!” Jisung says.  “Kid, what’s wrong?”

“Your Majesty, please forgive me,” Jeongin begs.  “And please ask the gods to forgive me too.”

“Jeongin,” you say, touching the top of his head.  It makes him shiver.  “Jeongin, what is it?”

“I lied to His Holiness,” Jeongin whispers.  He opens his watery dark eyes and looks up at you, brows knitting with his sorrow.  “I lied to Kingsguard Seungmin too.  And Captain Chan.  And to you.”  This final syllable is punched out with a sob.  He wipes his eyes.  “I know I shouldn’t have.  I’m a kingsguard.  I always have to make an honest report.  But I – I couldn’t – I didn’t want to watch—”

“Jeongin.”    You sink into a crouch so you can meet his gaze properly.  It makes his eyes widen and you think he might leap away, but your hand on his shoulder seems to steady him again.  “What did you lie about?”

“There were no assassins on the road,” he says.  “I told Seungmin there was.  I lied and I said it was too many for us to fight alone.  I said we had to tell Chan first.  I hoped if Chan thought there was a threat, he would send you down a different path, and I was right.” 

“Jeongin,” you say, rubbing his tense shoulder.  “Jeongin, it’s all right.  If I may, I just don’t understand why you did it?”

He obviously did not lie for the sake of itself, given he is so distraught.  It must have been a drastic decision for it to weigh so heavily now. 

He sniffles. 

“I’m sorry,” he says.  “It wasn’t my place.  The king has – the king has rights.  He’s the king.  I know.  I know.  But—”  He wipes his face and looks at you, imploring with his eyes.  “But he was going to hurt you the first chance he had,” Jeongin says.  “But you’re so – you’re so kind.  Your Majesty, it’s not right.  I didn’t want to watch him hurt you.  I couldn’t watch him hurt you.” 

“Oh, Jeongin,” you say.  You are so moved by his emotion that you throw your arms around him.  Though it startles him at first, he slowly returns the embrace.  “You’re a very thoughtful man,” you say, your chin on his trembling shoulder.  “I could never hold any grudge against such a heartfelt action.”

“So I’m forgiven?” he asks. 

“You were never blamed, Jeongin,” you say, leaning back to look at him.  You cup his face and smile, your own eyes watery.   “Thank you,” you whisper. 

He nods and accepts your hands when you offer them.  You stand first and he bows his head to you, forehead pressed to your knuckles, then he rises as well. He bows one more time before he looks at the other kingsguards.  They went silent at his confession, all standing near their horses, contemplative looks on their faces. 

“Do we… go back?” Seungmin asks. 

They look at Minho.  Minho looks at you.  His face is pensive, not at all like that laughing jokester from this morning.  When he wants to be, his face is the most stoic, not revealing a single thought despite the scrutiny of his gaze. 

Finally, he shakes his head.  He looks at his horse, rubbing its nose. 

“There’s no harm in continuing our course,” he says.  “The king would just be agitated, hm?  We’ll spare him the trouble.” 

“Agreed,” Changbin says, though he cuffs Jeongin on the arm.  “You will pray for revelation tonight.  And you’ll take care of the horses.” 

“I will too,” Seungmin says, stepping forward and bowing his head.  “Honestly, I thought something was suspicious with his report.  I should have investigated myself and I didn’t, because I wanted the same thing as him.”

“Fine,” Changbin says.  “Both of you then.”

It is menial as far as punishments go, though you wish there was no repercussions at all.  They both acted on your behalf, but a kingsguard is not supposed to have such an emotional response and certainly never to the end of betraying his vows for even a moment.  Lying is a sin.  Lying to holy king, more so. 

You look at Jisung.  Perhaps surprisingly, he does not look especially shaken.  He exhales heavily, noisily fluttering his lips as if to make a point of his resignation.  When he looks at you, he winks.  It makes your voice catch, mouth open but words caught. 

He smiles and puts his hand on your lower back, guiding you forward. 

“Your Majesty,” he says.  “Come on.  Let me get you some water.”    

If Jisung is not afraid right now, then you will not be either.  Still, you look at Jeongin over your shoulder.  The guards all return to chatting while you let your mind wander. 

You are determined that no one will ever again be punished on your behalf.  You do not know how you will handle the king and the days to come, but you will think of something.  You must think of something.  Things cannot continue the way they have been.  Jisung’s affection has caused a revolution inside of you.  You will use those feelings for good.  Through his bravery and kindness, you will similarly impact your world.

You have spent your life passively receiving your fate.  You were never motivated to seek more.  That has changed.  You have feelings now. 

Things will change.  You will change them.

-

You stop in a riverside clearing just before nightfall.  Though your journey cuts through the forest, you weave back towards the water to make camp.  

Changbin and Minho take some time to peruse their maps and confirm their bearings, meanwhile Seungmin and Jeongin build and organize your little tent.  The boys will sleep on their bedrolls under the stars, the clear summer night permitting it, but it would not be appropriate for the queen to lay on the ground all night. 

You refuse to be totally useless so you go with Hyunjin and Jisung to collect some firewood.  They cut some larger pieces of wood and collect rocks while you gather sticks for kindling.  They show you how to arrange everything, then how to ignite a flame using a couple of twigs. 

The sun teeters on the horizon, a slash of orange darting through the lavender light of evening.  The faintest breath of wind stirs through dark locks of hair.  The boys decide they want to wash themselves while it is still relatively warm enough.  They go in groups of three so you are never left alone. 

The kingsguards may be tasked with watching the royal personage at all times in all circumstances, but that does not run the opposite direction.  It would be rather inappropriate for the queen to sit shoreside and ogle her naked guards as they splash around in the river. 

The nudity of bathing does not carry any shame, but these are kingsguards.  Their black robes feel like a part of them.  Even Jisung has not fully stripped in front of you.  The most skin you have seen came from Hyunjin when he was forced to disrobe for a whipping and that was not consensually granted.    

You are content to sit by the fire and listen to them on the other side of the treeline.  Jisung, Seungmin, and Jeongin bathe first, a rowdy little trio by the sounds of it.  Changbin and Hyunjin chuckle at their theatrics while Minho smiles.  They share some food and conversation with you.  

It is very calm and pleasant.  You feel like you can truly relax for the first time in days.  Even when the king was unconscious, the camp itself was always bustling with so many bodies and animals.  The encampment felt like a small city unto itself.  This is very different, slower and quieter but still very safe.  Yes, despite the darkening woods and the eerie quiet of its shadows, you are not afraid.  Changbin is at your side, Jisung is laughing somewhere, and Minho’s keen eyes are darting to and fro.  You have never felt more secure.

Of course, this arrangement is so intimate that you suspect it will be harder to be truly alone with Jisung.  It was easier to slip away in the busy crowd, but there is no where to hide in this clearing. 

You can wait.  Patience, temperance, and self-denial are well-practiced traits of yours.

So you think until Han Jisung jumps some shrubbery and skips towards the fire.  He is wearing his shirt and pants again, though his outer robes are draped over his arm.  He is still damp, droplets of water slipping down the subtle but firm curve of his biceps.  He runs his fingers through his wet black hair, pushing it out of his eyes.  When he smiles at you, it makes you understand how poets like him can write endless songs about a single muse.  You wish you could better articulate just how deeply that smile touches you. 

Certain you will give yourself away otherwise, you do not smile back, dipping your gaze back to the fire and cramming some food in your mouth.  Minho gives you an amused look from the other side of the fire and it makes your face feel even hotter. 

Jisung takes a seat beside you.  A bedroll has been unfurled for your comfort and he sits just beside it, laying his robes on his other side.  He groans with satisfaction as he stretches his arms towards the fire. 

You chew your food with more concentration than it warrants, trying to ignore the flush caused by his unthinking moan.  It might be part of his silly theatrics but you will never hear that sound without thinking of the noises he made when inside you: his heavy breathing and the low pleasured moans exhaled softly into the tender skin of your throat as your bodies came together again and again. 

Jisung glances at you but you avoid his gaze, still too flustered to look at him.  Fortunately, Seungmin and Jeongin arrive seconds later.  They are also in their shirts and pants. While it is undoubtedly strange to see the kingsguards in that state, it does not affect you the same way.  It really is just Han Jisung, with his laughter and poetry, his silliness and seriousness alike.

Changbin, Minho, and Hyunjin leave to bathe.  Seungmin, Jeongin, and Jisung eat their share, continuing some silly jesting they started at the river.  They tease each other and make you laugh. 

Jeongin is the first to stand, sighing to himself.

“I’m going to say my prayers now,” he says.  “Like I was told, until I feel the gods’ revelation.” 

“I’ll go too,” Seungmin says, standing as well.  “Like I promised.”

You and Jisung nod.  You spare the boys a final glance that you hope conveys your gratitude.  You think it does because they both smile back.  They take their robes and venture further into the woods, presumably to be alone with the gods. 

Hyunjin, Changbin, and Minho are noisy but it is in the distance.  In the little space between you and Jisung, there is silence, only the fire crackling. 

You finally dare to meet his eye, each of you shyly glancing at the other.  He seems to have a slight blush but maybe that is the flames. 

“So,” you say.   

Changbin shouts something silly at Hyunjin.  Jisung looks in that direction before smiling an awkward sort of smile.  He rubs the back of his neck as he gazes at you.

You both understand that you are not truly alone.  He knows how precarious the situation is.  He clearly trusts Minho but is not sure how the others will react.  It is safer to keep your distance for now. 

“Are you excited to be back in the capital?” you ask.   

This causes his eyes to light up, bright as the flames.  His smile similarly jumps.

“Yeah, actually!” he says.  “You know, there’s some places I think you would like.  I wish I could take you there.”

You do not want to feel sad tonight, do not want to lament a life you do not have.  You want to imagine a reality where everything is possible.  Although poignancy tugs at your heartstrings, you rise above it, smiling at him.

“Talk to me as if we will go,” you say.

Some of the sadness seeps from his gaze.  The corners of his eyes crinkle when he smiles, a true smile. 

“There are some amazing gardens, you know,” he says.  “Acres of tulips in more colours than you can imagine.  And an orchard of cherry blossom trees.  It’s – it’s very beautiful in the springtime.”

“Oh,” you say, swallowing.  “I think I will love it.”

“You will,” he says.  “You definitely will.  I can’t wait for you to see it.  There’s a tea house on the property.  They make a cherry tisane.  It sounds like something you’d enjoy.  I’ve noticed you have taste for sweet things.  You were—”  He giggles now, miming licking his fingertips.  “You were licking some sugar off your fingers in the first village when you thought no one was looking.”

“I should have known I would be caught,” you say, laughing. 

“Yes,” he says, still grinning.  “I couldn’t take my eyes off you if I tried.” 

“I know what you mean,” you reply softly.  “There was a bard at the banquet who caught my attention.  He sang so beautifully that it pulled me out of a lethargy I did not even realize I had slumped into.” 

“Oh wow,” Jisung says, his eyes comically wide.  “He sounds amazing.  Was he that good of a singer?” 

“The best I’ve ever heard,” you say, giggling helplessly. 

“Oh wow.”  He shakes his head.  “Was he handsome too?” 

“Mhm…”  Your face feels hot and you fidget with a loose thread on your gown.  “Very handsome, if I say so.”

“You are the gods-chosen queen,” he says solemnly.  “Your opinion is a sanctified one.  He must have been really good looking then, like, stunning, like probably the best looking bard who ever lived.  Fuck!  I can’t compete with that guy!” 

You laugh again, playfully shoving his shoulder while he giggles at his own silly joke. 

“This is probably a foolish confession,” you say, a little shy.  You think the growing darkness and loud flames might encourage your bravery.  “But when you stood in as proxy at the wedding… for a moment… I imagined what it would be like to marry you instead.”

His eyes widen but not overdramatically, his surprise pure and honest. 

“I didn’t know you yet, of course,” you say.  “I couldn’t truly imagine what that would look like.  It was a momentary fantasy.  I just – I imagined a life with music and a smiling face.” 

You stare back at him, your gazes locked.  The boys are still making noise by the water and the other two are off in prayer.  Darkness falls around you and the fire keeps you safe.  All this makes you bold, so you reach across the small space between your bodies and you touch his face.  When your palm cups his cheek, he takes in a breath and holds it. 

“I thought I would stop thinking about it as the days went on,” you whisper.  “Instead, now I see it better.  I think I would like to explore cities with you, and try sweet things.  And I think I would like even more to sit somewhere quiet at the end of the day, and do my needlework while you write songs.  And I think I should stop thinking about it…”  You drop your hand from his face, curl your fingers into your palm, and tuck your hand against your heart.  “Because I’m making myself sad again.  And I told myself I would not be sad tonight.” 

“I wish I could take it away from you,” he says earnestly.  “I like making you smile.  I could write a song about the way you laugh but the sound wouldn’t be half as beautiful.” 

You laugh at that, bashful as you shake your head.  He wags a scolding finger in your face.

“Hey!” he says.  “Don’t laugh at that.  I was completely serious.”

“I know you were,” you say.  “Trust me.” 

“I do,” he says, smiling.  His eyes roam your face, seeming to make a study of you.  He sighs, a sweet sound.  “I wish I could say I imagined marrying you,” he says.  “But honestly, never in my life would I have ever dreamed such a thing would be possible.  That you – that you – would ever look at me like—”  He is trying to be jovial but his tone drops, finishing in utter seriousness, “Like this.” 

“You speak so ill of yourself sometimes,” you say.  “I know you come from a small background, Han Jisung, but that is a testament to your character, not a fault of it.  I feel like I am the clumsy, foolish one, that I will forever be trying to reach the places you go.” 

You lift your hand above your head.  He takes it in his own, lowering it so your clasped hands are between your hearts. 

“I think we’re somewhere here now,” he says. 

“Yes,” you say, swallowing again.  “I believe we are, against all odds.” 

“Against all odds,” he says and smiles.  It is that true smile again, the corner of his eyes so crinkled with joy.  It fills you with a similar happiness. 

The warmth of that delight simmers hotly when he brings your hand to his lips.  Surely, a kiss on the back of the hand is the most chaste kiss imaginable.  It should not summon a torrent of butterflies in your belly, yet you swear they burst so quickly that you could similarly take flight. 

He kisses that soft skin.  Your hand is so unblemished next to his.  You feel a sword callous where his thumb strokes you, a rough touch, though his lips are soft and warm. 

When you are not interrupted, he gets bolder, turning your hand over and kissing your palm.  He looks at you when he does.  His gaze is so penetrating that you feel it thunder through you, right down to your core.  This is not a chaste kiss despite its softness, his eyes and mouth irrevocably claiming you. 

The voices get louder as the three guards approach.   He releases your hand and you take it back, cradling it like something delicate.  You can still feel the place his mouth touched, radiating heat more thoroughly than the campfire. 

He is quicker at feigning indifference, immediately joking with his fellow guards as they approach the fire to dry off.  You smile politely but remain quiet, still so flustered inside. 

You spend the evening by the fire with the guards, talking about the days ahead.  The other guards also speak fondly of the capital and some residents.  You talk about your home too and they listen attentively. 

The day eventually catches up to you.  You yawn and apologize for the impolite action, covering your mouth.  It just makes the guards laugh fondly. 

“I suppose I best excuse myself for the night,” you say. 

You begin to stand and they all move, prepared to rise and help you.  Jisung beats them to it, on his feet in a matter of seconds. 

“Here,” Jisung says, holding out his hand.  “Let me, my queen.” 

You take his hand.  Sparks ignite all over again, tingling all the way up your arm as he helps you to your feet.  Your tent is not far but Jisung walks you to it anyway, holding open the canvas as you step inside.  It is certainly not as big as the one in the encampment, the narrow space just big enough for a bedroll.   It is tall enough you can stand, but only barely. 

“Thank you,” you say, turning to face him.  You smile.  “Good night, Jisung.” 

“Good night, Your Majesty,” he says.  He is still holding your hand. 

A heartbeat passes.  He glances over his shoulder.  The other kingsguards must be occupied because he steps into the tent.  He is fast, taking the scarce second afforded to him. 

He does not waste it. 

He pulls you towards him.  His hand darts past your waist and circles your body so he can haul you up against him.  His other hand touches your face, his thumb on your chin to tilt your head. 

He kisses you.  Deeply, desperately. 

“Good night, Your Majesty,” he breathes, stealing one more kiss before he withdraws. 

It happens so fast but the effect lingers long after he is gone, your heart still racing and body still humming with desire. 

Your dreams the previous night do not begin to compare to the thoroughly involved and deeply sinful dreaming that comes to you tonight. 

-

You wake in a state, still flushed from a stimulating dream.  Your hands fumble on the ties of your dress as you prepare for the day.  You shake out your limbs before you open the tent canvas and step into the early morning light.

The kingsguards took shifts in guarding your tent.  Last night, you woke to some noisy nightingales and recognized Changbin’s silhouette outside your tent.  Content you were safe, you went back to sleep. 

The morning is crisp and cool, the air a balm on your warm skin.  That heat has no time to lessen, however, because the kingsguard standing post right now is Jisung. 

You look at each other.  It is very safe to say this regard is blatantly provocative.  He does not touch you but it feels as though he is undressing you with his eyes, the dark depths skimming the loose ties of your bodice like he is calculating how quickly he can unravel it.  It would probably be fast.  He could crook his finger inside the knot and everything would come undone, yourself included. 

He is wearing his robes again.  It should make him little more than a shadow, but your body is imprinted with the feeling of his arms around you, his hands deft and firm where they touch and press.  

He looks over his shoulder.  You follow his gaze.  Hyunjin and Jeongin are still sleeping, dozing atop their bedrolls.  The others are nowhere to be seen but you can hear them in the distance, down by the river.

Jisung looks at you.  You do not doubt your hearts jump in unison with the same thought.

Seconds later, you are back inside the tent, his mouth on yours and his hands frantically squeezing your sides. 

“Jisung,” you whisper, throwing your arms around his neck.  You bury your fingers in his hair, thoughtlessly tugging at it and pushing your body right against his. 

He makes a low sound, passed between your lips.  He pulls you into his arms so your bodies are flush against each other.  Even with the layers between, you feel him as he feels you, the plush curve of your breasts pressed against his flat chest, your fuller thighs against his, the softness of your middle against the unmistakably stiff interest of his. 

“Gods help me,” he curses.

You think he tries to be graceful but you are both intoxicated with the kiss and it makes you clumsy.  You thump down to earth, sprawling across on the bedroll.  It deters you for mere seconds then he is back on you. 

You don’t have time to think, your body commandeering full control of your senses.  You lean back on your elbows, your legs falling open so he can fit his hips between them.  His hands come down on either side of you, leaning you back as he kisses you until you are dizzy. 

“I thought about you all night,” he whispers.

He kisses you again, his mouth open, his tongue on your lips.  You open your mouth for him.  The place between your thighs seem to follow the same command, heat flooding so fast and intensely when he licks into your mouth.  You suddenly feel so empty down there in comparison, your body begging for more.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about what you said,” he continues, then kisses you again, then moans.  “About us,” he says.  “If you were my wife – oh – gods be good—“

You mewl.  It is the only word to describe your whimpering when he lays you out and presses against you intimately, his hips rocking so you can feel exactly what he means. 

“I would have taken you right there,” he whispers, staring down in your eyes as he rolls his body against yours.  “I would have had you under those stars.  I’d have you again right now.  You’d never know anything but happiness and pleasure.  I’d make you feel so good.  So, so good. Always.  If you were mine.” 

“I am yours,” you whisper back, at least halfway delirious but nonetheless passionate.  It is your only coherent sentence before your head tips back and your eyes close, your hips raising to meet his with a frenetic desperation. 

He whimpers too.  His expression is almost pained, his shoulders shaking. 

“It takes me apart when you say things like that,” he says.  “Do you understand?  How you change everything?  My whole world?”

“Yes,” you say, nodding quickly.  You are certain your own expression borders pain and pleasure.  “Yes, I understand.  Jisung.  Jisung.” 

“Jisung?”  That voice is Changbin from outside the tent. 

It is effective as a bucket of cold water.  You and Jisung look at each other, wide-eyed and panting, then mutely rip apart.  He is the first out of the tent, practically bursting into the morning light.  It startles Changbin who nearly topples over.  He has barely righted himself when you emerge too. 

“Is everything all right?” Changbin asks, looking quickly between you.

“I fell,” you blurt.

“She fell,” Jisung repeats. 

“You fell?” Changbin asks, lifting his eyebrow.  He steps back to look at the tent, then he looks at you.  “Are you all right?”

“No,” you say, then shake your head.  “I mean, yes.  My apologies, kingsguard.  It just really startled me.  I hit my head.”

“She hit her head,” Jisung repeats.

“Jisung tried to help me but then he fell too.”

“I tried to help her but then I – wait—”

“That does sound like you,” Changbin says, frowning.  “Tsk, shame.”  He swats at Jisung before bowing appropriately to you.  “Your Majesty, are you all right?  Do you need anything?”

“Umm, some water if you don’t mind?” you say. 

“Of course,” Changbin says.  He puts a scolding finger in Jisung’s face.  “Try not to fall on her when I’m gone.” 

“I’ll certainly try,” Jisung says.  “No promises.”

When Changbin is out of sight, you playfully kick Jisung.  He feigns immense pain but then he winks at you. 

Your heart skips a beat. 

This might be a long journey after all.

-

Hyunjin and Jeongin wake not long after.  You depart earlier than scheduled. 

Jisung never gets a moment to calm down, still half-aroused when he sits behind you in the saddle.  It provokes your own arousal, impossible to shake the all too clear fantasy of him pressed against your backside, his body moving against yours, not entirely unlike the up-and-down sway in the quick canter of the horse ride. 

“Are you all right?” you ask after some time.

“Ha-ha,” he says.  “Fuck no.” 

It makes you laugh, though it also leaves you feeling very warm. 

Jisung sprinkles himself with water at the next rest stop, dabbing his neck and face while you pet his horse.  Minho and Changbin are conversing over a map, gesticulating and debating something.  Minho nods definitively and rolls up the paper. 

“We’re making better time than anticipated,” he says.  “If we don’t delay at our rests, we may be able to reach one of the outermost villages before nightfall.” 

“Sounds like a good plan to me,” Seungmin says, to which everyone concurs.  Finding an inn would be preferable to another night on the forest floor. 

You reach the first town just after nightfall.  The capital, itself, is at least another day’s ride, but towns and villages dot the landscape leading up to it. 

It does not take long to find an inn.  The kingsguards are an unmistakeable order, especially a pack of them, walking into a room with their black robes and shining swords.  The innkeepers fall over themselves, rushing up to greet the holy soldiers as they let themselves into the downstairs tavern. 

The kingsguards do not need to introduce you.  Though you must look a little wild with some undone curls and a well-worn dress, there is only one female figure the kingsguards – queensguards – would be escorting. 

At first, the guards are better received than you.  It is obvious these men have earned a good reputation with the people, regarded as a separate entity from the king.  If the king was unpopular with the common people in the country provinces, it becomes abundantly clear he is even less popular here.  You suppose that makes sense as he is much more likely to visit one of these provinces. 

You let your decency and good nature speak for itself.  The innkeepers warm up to you in no time, happily holding conversation while a couple of the kingsguards give the building a walkthrough.

You are all given some food and board.  The upper level has been cleared for privacy, which somewhat embarrasses you, but the kingsguards claim it is a worthwhile safety measure given the events of the last few days. 

Changbin takes the first shift, guarding you.  It is early and you are very awake from so much socializing, so you invite him inside to sit with you.   The room is not overly ostentatious but it is more than suitable, a decent size with a wide bed and a seating area. 

You and Changbin sit across from each other at the table.  You brought a small embroidery hoop and some thread so you work on that while chatting with Changbin.  He expresses some interest in what you are doing so you show him.  He takes to it as naturally as last time, giggling gleefully at his handiwork.   

The hours tick past.  There is a knock at the door, one of the kingsguards to relieve Changbin from his post.  They will continue to take turns through the night.

Though you mask your thoughts, you are disappointed when the door opens and it is Minho standing there.  Maybe it is for the best.  It would have been hard to explain why Jisung felt the need to guard you from inside your room all night – to say nothing of guarding you under the covers. 

Changbin bids you a good night.  Minho nods to him as he departs, then he looks at you with a rather drole quirk of his eyebrow.

“Try and get some sleep, Your Majesty,” he says, then he bows his head respectfully and closes the door. 

His tone was a little odd but you suppose Lee Minho is a rather quirky character at times. 

Shaking your head, you bolt and lock the door as you were advised.  You hum to yourself as you move around the room, supposing it is an appropriate hour to prepare for bed, though you are still quite awake.

You take your hair down and remove your shoes and stockings.  You have only just grasped the front ties of your dress when there is a knock.  You step towards the door when the knock comes again.  This time, it makes you pause, because the sound does not seem to resonate from the door.  You linger in the middle of the room, waiting and listening.

The knock comes again.  You turn around.  It is coming from the other side of the room.  Is someone knocking at the window?  That can’t be possible; you are on the third and uppermost floor of a building.  

You are about to turn and alert Minho when someone says your name without any title or honorific.  You recognize the voice immediately. 

You hurry over to the window to unlatch the casement and throw it open.  Sure enough, Han Jisung is dangling from the ledge, grinning but sweating and looking rather strained. 

“What are you doing?” you whisper frantically. 

“I’m climbing,” Jisung whispers back.  “It’s romantic – whoa!” 

He nearly slips in an attempt to get his bearing, making you squeak with alarm.  He laughs nervously when he strengthens his grip. 

“Just give me a second,” he says.  “I promise, this is gonna be super romantic as soon as I get up there.  Oh.  Ouch.  Oof.  I really should have taken the robe off first.  Ouch.  Hold on.  Okay.  All right.  Here we go.”

He manages to lift himself onto the window ledge.  It is a rather narrow window so it is something of a comical sight, watching him try to find a way inside.  When he realizes he can’t turn enough to swing a leg in, he opts to tip into the room backwards, landing on his back with a thud. 

“Shhh,” you say, trying not to laugh, putting a finger over your lips.

He puts a finger over his lips too, eyes darting back and forth with joking panic.

“You are ridiculous,” you say, helping him to his feet.

“I thought I was incorrigible,” he replies.  He shakes out his robes, flapping them like wings.

“You’re that too.”  You close and lock the casement, firmly bolting the latch. 

The amusement and giddiness fades, though the adrenaline remains.  You and Jisung look at each other, completely alone in a locked room for the first time in a couple days.  It seems impossible that you were similarly alone in a room at a different inn, just a handful of days past.  So much has transpired in so little time.  You can only imagine what else could happen.  You think the possibilities are limitless, so long as he keeps looking at you like that. 

Even if his gaze does make you feel flushed.  You have already been very intimate and it is obvious you both want to continue that, but it does not get easier to proposition it.  The more you want him, the more tension you feel. 

“Right,” you say with a weak little laugh as you march past. 

His eyes follow you.  You hear him cross the room, the slow thud of booted steps as he moves.  He takes off his outer robe, the swishing slither unmistakable as the fabric sweeps the floor.  

You approach the table with your embroidery, keeping your back to him as you organize your tools. 

“Um, so I suppose, um,” you start and stumble.  You do not know what to say.  There is so much and yet there are no words. 

You struggle another moment, mouth open around empty, airy syllables.

He touches your arm, just the gentlest sweep of his knuckles from your shoulder to your elbow.  You did not even hear him step behind you but now he conquers all your senses.  You feel him even where he is not touching you.  You close your eyes and his face is there, those familiar eyes and that devastating smile. 

“Your Majesty,” he says, his voice light, undemanding yet so seductive.  It makes your core tighten.  “If I only keep one vow my whole life – I want it to be this.”  His hand sweeps back up your arm, across your shoulder, brushing some hair off your neck.  “The gods brought me to you to keep you safe and to serve you.  You have let me keep the first vow.  Please.”  His tone is truly pleading.  “Please let me keep the second vow.”    

It is not a surprise you cannot formulate a reply.  Your voice and breath are caught, no doubt trapped by your pounding heart.  You are captivated and glad to be. 

You turn around.  Your eyes meet.  The eye contact alone stirs your arousal.  You remember him looking at you through the mirror, the most he dared, at least until he snuck into your tent and made love like he was writing songs of worship. 

Your eyes remain locked as you gather the front ties of your dress and begin to unravel the knot.  Without looking down, he takes them from you.  He tugs the ends, drawing you closer to him.  Closer and closer until you are pressed between him and the table edge.  You lean against it and surrender, sliding your hands up his bare arms until they are resting on his clothed shoulders. 

He kisses you.  It is different than earlier, not so frantic but just as searching.  He makes a sound like pain, his brow knitting together, mouth opening against yours.

Your dress comes apart in his hands.  You murmur his name as he pulls the material down, leaving you clad in your shift.  You expect him to let the dress fall and lift your shift over your head, but he follows the fabric of the dress down, carefully guiding it over your hips.  He sinks lower, lower, and lower still, until he is down on one knee, still guiding the dress.  It falls past your knees and puddles on the floor, leaving you in your shift. 

“Jisung,” you say, touching the side of his face. 

His eyes are closed.  He shudders when you touch his face.  It makes his eyes fly open, flickering with something like fear until he looks into your eyes and it all goes away. 

“I want…” he says.

Suddenly his other knee drops.  He sits back on his heels, tilting his head so far back to gaze up at you imploringly. 

“I don’t know,” he says, laughing at himself.  His eyes wander down your body, the plain shift that he has seen in so many revealing stages, down the curve of your breasts and their excited peaks, down over your hips, down between your legs. 

Yes, he focusses there, taking a deep breath.  He kneels upright, taking the hem of your shift in hand. 

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” he says, gathering the material, guiding it up.  “I mean, I do.  I know but I – I don’t.”  He glances up at your face then he looks down again, eyes once more between your thighs as he reveals more and more skin.  His fingers are trembling where they clutch the material.   “I want to, though,” he says.  “Please. Please. Your Majesty.” 

“Jisung,” you say softly.

You run your fingers through his hair.  He positively melts under the gentle ministration, pressing his face over the material between your legs.  His nose swipes somewhere sensitive and it makes you jump, tugging on his hair. 

“Jisung, you can do what you want with me,” you say.  “You know that.  You know—”

“I do,” he says, kissing you through the material, making your thighs twitch.  “I do.  I want.  I want.” 

He lifts the hem up past your belly.  You take the material, holding it as you hold your breath.  His hands skim your sides and the curve of your hips, his eyes nearly crossing each other with his hypnotized concentration. 

You are not sure what he is doing, not when he kisses your thighs, not when he touches you behind the knee and guides it over his shoulder.  You just know the sight of him on his knees makes your whole body weak.  You are glad the table is behind you, offering support, or you would already be a useless puddle on the floor, much like your discarded dress. 

You think he is just kissing you, just teasing you, moving further along your inner thigh.  Then he kisses the place between your legs, no barrier between his mouth and the soft, wet place that is begging for him. 

“Oh,” you say. 

It is the only thing you can say for a while, mouth frozen in a round O of surprise when he continues to kiss there.  Chaste – if they can be called that – kisses until his tongue pokes through.  His fingers press into your thigh as he moans and buries his face between your legs, his open mouth ravishing you. 

Your head falls back, chest rising and falling rapidly, not a coherent sound crossing your lips as he puts his tongue inside you and coaxes all those half-mad noises from within you.  It goes on until you are so hot and dizzy that, when he takes your leg off his shoulder, you must fully slouch against the table to stay standing. 

You look down at him, so desperate for more that you must look feral with want.   He wipes his face, glancing down at the wetness that has touched his black shirt.

You realize now why he stopped.  He reaches back over his head, taking the fabric in his fists and pulling.  He tugs the shirt off and throws it to the side, exposing all that honey-smooth skin to your hungry, roving eyes. 

Then he dives back in, putting your leg on his bare shoulder and his tongue inside you.  You cry out, gripping his hair, your hips bucking of their own volition as he runs his tongue back and forth, back and forth, tormenting that bead of pleasure until little waves of anticipation start to build inside you. 

“Jisung, Jisung,” you whisper, the roughness of your own voice unrecognizable to you.  He is the one on his knees but you sound like the one in prayer, uttering his name with so much reverence as he takes you over an impossible crest of pleasure.  One hand is buried in his hair but the other you use to cover your mouth, eyes closing as you ride the height of your pleasure on his eager face. 

You both take a gasping breath when it is over.  You look at each other the way romantics gaze at the heavens, full of wonder and awe. 

“How—” he begins then clears his throat.  He wipes his face as he stands, yearning eyes rivetted to yours.  “How do you feel?”

“I feel – I feel—”  You really think about it, following each tingle as it bolts, lightning quick, back to its source.  Your thighs twitch and your body clenches, tightening around nothing, and you know the answer.  “Empty,” you say.  “I feel – I need—”

“Oh,” he says, nudging your legs apart and standing between them.  “Oh, my darling.” 

You grab his face with both hands and pull it to yours, tasting yourself on his lips and tongue.  He kisses your mouth as eagerly as he kissed down there, his hands on your waist, moving up under the shift.  You quickly lift it off, tossing it blindly behind you.  You lean back and he follows you, his mouth in a quick but hot chase, moving down your throat to your breasts. 

You plant your hands behind you, sitting fully on the table now.  You let your head fall back as he stands between your open legs and kisses so many sensitive places. 

“The king won’t see you for at least a week,” he murmurs, leaving little kisses around the stiff bud.  It makes your back arch, offering yourself up to him.  

You lift your head to look at him.  He meets your gaze, his dark eyes turned up as his open mouth descends. 

“Jiii—” is the only syllable you manage, biting your lip to stop because it was too loud. 

It is hardly fair, though, when he bites the tender skin only to love at it with his tongue. 

“Oh, sweet gods,” you say, watching, hips bucking, as he does it again.  “I thought you were a chaste virgin.” 

“I am,” he says, then smiles.  “Was.  But—”  He leaves another love bite, then kisses his way back up to your face.  He smiles at you.  “I’m good at everything.”

“Oh, I see,” you say, laughing at his playfulness.  “Vanity is a sin, you know.”

A laugh bursts out of him, louder than all your previous moans.  You both slap a hand over his mouth, barely stifling the giggles that follow. 

Smiling at each other, you take your hand off his mouth.  You tuck some of his hair behind his ear.  His neck is already a little sweaty and there is a line of sweat in the middle of his bare chest.  You trace it, your finger circling his pectoral, almost as sensitive as your peaks given how his eyelids flutter and get heavy with want. 

“Jisung,” you whisper.  “I want you.”

“You want me,” he says, all at once intoxicated with desire.  “I want you.” 

“Have me,” you say, wrapping a hand around the back of his neck and pulling him to you.  “Jisung, I’m yours.  Please.  Please.”

“Oh gods.” Despite his playful cockiness, his hands are shaking when they go to the ties of his trousers.  He fumbles with them like last time, needing your help to undo the knot.  Your fingers weave through the string, loosening it, and he releases a breath when he can pull the front material apart. 

You wrap your legs around him, guiding him towards your centre.  He nearly topples you and the table, practically falling into your arms.  He laughs nervously, then closes his eyes as you put your arms around him.  He groans with deep-set pleasure when you drag your fingernails from his shoulders all the way down his back. 

He has himself in hand and he is shivering as you scrape your nails down his back.  It makes him as wet as he is hard, the tip of him gliding along your wetness in a way that leaves you shaking. 

“You’re torturing me,” you whisper, grinding against his tip, shuddering when he rubs up and down over that still-sensitive bead of pleasure.   “What are you – what are you—”     

“I’m not torturing you, ‘m not,” he says, slurring just a little, kissing your cheeks and your jaw and your neck.  “Majesty.  Queen.  You.  My – Oh.  I’m just – I want to see you – I want to feel you—”

He wants to make you reach that climax again, which he does, just by grinding against you.  It washes over you with so much intensity that you rear up then fall back.  It causes a table leg to crack.

You look at each other with wide eyes, glancing beneath you to see the damage.  You both fail to stifle another giggle, exchanging a shocked expression, then mutely changing location. 

Your feet touch the ground for mere seconds before he picks you up, hands on your waist, the same gentlemanly touch when he helps you onto his horse.   This time he puts you on the bed, crawling up after you as you scoot to lay in the centre of it. 

His pants are still on but low slung.  He pushes them further until they are around his thighs, nothing more than a useless hindrance as your legs open for him.  He hooks his arms under your knees and pulls you to him.  You are so wet and so open and ready. 

It is easier than the first time, but still a momentary sting as he enters you, one that disappears as he sinks in deeper until you are as intimate as two humans can be. 

“Yes,” you say.  It feels so good that you release a tear.

“Oh, my – my darling, my queen, I—”  He kisses that tear track, then moves his arms so he can plant his hands on either side of your head.  He moans at the depth afforded to him in that angle, rocking against you with an energy more needy than calculated. 

“Be – be careful—” you say with a little laugh, because he is thrusting so haphazardly that it is making the bed squeak.  “Unless you want everyone to know what you’re doing to me.”

“Well,” he says with a laughing exhale.  “Maybe I do.  I mean, I don’t, that would be very bad.  But also—” 

He moves slower, mindfully, counting each stroke and measuring its impact by the look on your face.  He is slow, then a little faster, but not enough to squeak the bed again – just enough that you forget how to speak, staring at him through dizzy eyes as he takes you so deeply and so precisely. 

“No one else has you like this,” he whispers.  “You are – so beautiful – and composed – and gr-graceful – but for me—”

He covers your mouth when you moan too loud, but it just makes you whimper pathetically into his hand.  Your eyes close as he rolls his hips into yours, relentlessly riding you to an entirely different precipice of pleasure. 

“For me,” he says.  “You’re like this.  I know you.  I know you.”  He emphasizes this with a hand between your bodies, stroking that place again as he takes you. 

It’s no wonder the kingsguards are considered deadly; his coordination is truly fatal, never faltering for a second.  He is even quick enough to cover your mouth when you reach that crest, sobbing into his palm with nothing but sheer pleasure. 

“Yes,” he says and kisses your wet face, down your throat.  He puts his face against your neck and rocks his hips a little more frantically.  “You feel – you are – I never want to stop – I want – oh gods – it’s you.  It’s you.  You’re everything.  You’re my – you’re mine, you’re all of it.  Fuck.”

He pulls out before reaching his climax.  This time you finish him, taking him in hand.  It takes only one stroke for him to come to you, his face twisted up with his pleasure and a whine in his throat as he releases himself all over your thighs. 

He falls on top of you after, his head on your chest and his eyes closed.  You run your fingers through his messy hair, then down his spine and back up again.  He trembles a little but every exhale sounds like relief. 

Eventually, he lifts his head.  You are not sure who initiates the kiss, only that you fall into it with the same all-encompassing desire as all the others. 

“Will you stay a while?” you ask. 

He nods.  His dark eyes are a little shiny and his laugh is a little watery when he says, “I’d stay forever if I could.”

“I know,” you say, swallowing down the same emotion as you take him back into your arms.  “I know, Jisung.” 

You really do.

It is for that reason, you will make it happen.   

[diaphamin]

#epicfortnitelobby — gamer!haechan smau

summary: in which haechan, a famous fortnite streamer, hops into a random duos match and, by chance, gets paired with you. instantly clicking with your personality, he decides to send you a friend request. what will happen as the two of you start playing together more often?

genre/warnings: crack, sex jokes, will have written parts, slow burn (sorry…….), gets a bit angsty but will have a happy ending!

quick yap: obviously none of these characters are actual portrayals of the real person and are made up how i need them to be for this story.

STATUS: ONGOING | TAGLIST: OPEN ♡

MASTERLIST

[profiles: haechan squad] [profiles: y/n squad] [profiles: private accounts]

one random duos tonight (written)

two the only thing i blow.. (end written)

three tweets about mark lee

four got your competition on the phone

five we gotta lock in (half written)

six wait ur famous?!

seven who plays lego fortnite (mostly texts, ending written)

eight best friend era

nine u up texts

more tba… xooo ♡

[austinbutlerslovers]

Under the Mistletoe

Label Mature 18+

Summary it’s near Christmas and you’re ecstatic to indulge in the festivities especially with your handsome fiancé Patrick by your side. However as the evening wears on you begin to realize your relationship isn’t as blissful as it seems.

⚠️ Hardcore Smut ⚠️ Patrick almost having a violent psychotic break • name calling • toxic relationship dynamics •kiss it better •restraint•dirty talk •mild choking•edging• fingering •love bites•pinning •size kink• cock warming• male dominant•P in V against a wall•multiple orgasms •cream pie• mild after care 🔗MasterList

📖 Proof Reader @purejasmine 3 parts upcoming (maybe more) : 🔗 Silken Secrets •🔗 Drenched in Shadows TBA

Under The Mistletoe

The Waldorf Astoria Christmas gala is dazzling, a picture perfect scene of Manhattan excess. Everything sparkles: lights, dresses, diamonds, and you thrive in it. You’re the darling of the Upper East Side tonight, flitting between friends and admirers, your laughter bright and carefree.

Patrick watches you from across the room, leaning against the bar in his Tom Ford tuxedo, a glass of champagne in hand.

He is the epitome of perfection. Chiseled features, every muscle precisely defined under his tailored suit, and sharp, cold blue eyes that command attention.

The lights from the Christmas tree reflect off his perfectly styled hair, making him look almost ethereal. But beneath the surface, his mind churns.

—She’s exhausting. Beautiful, yes, but insufferable tonight. How much longer can I keep this up?

You’re chatting animatedly with a group of friends, oblivious to the way his gaze pierces through you. When you glance his way, you catch his sharp smirk, and your heart skips. You love that smirk—it’s confident, seductive, and just for you.

“Patrick, come here!” you call, waving him over. The group makes room for him, and he steps in smoothly, placing a possessive hand on your lower back.

Now under the mistletoe, someone teases, “Oh, Patrick, you know the rule!”

Patrick’s grin widens. “I don’t follow rules,” he quips, pulling you close to him. His lips press to yours, firm and commanding, eliciting a chorus of playful cheers. But the kiss isn’t sweet. It’s a performance, sharp and calculated, and you feel it.

Later, as the party winds down, you’re in the car heading back to Patrick’s penthouse. The silence is heavy. You’re perched in the passenger seat of his immaculate Lexus, prattling on about holiday plans, your friends vacations, and what you want for Christmas.

“And Sophie is spending New Year’s in St. Barts—ugh, can you imagine? It’s so cliche to flaunt it like that,” you chatter, oblivious to his mounting frustration.

Patrick’s jaw tightens, his cold gaze fixed on the road ahead.

—I should pull over. Quiet her. Permanently. The way she talks, her voice, that incessant laugh—it grates. But not yet. Not tonight. Keep the mask on.

“Are you even listening to me, Patrick?” you pout, crossing your arms.

He pulls into the parking garage, kills the engine, and steps out of the car without answering. You’re left fuming as he strides toward the elevator, leaving you to follow.

His penthouse is immaculate—gleaming marble floors, sleek minimalist furniture, and floor to ceiling windows overlooking the city.

Patrick removes his jacket, draping it over a chair with deliberate precision. You, still sulking, remove your fur coat and kick off your heels tossing your hand bag on the couch.

“Are you going to ignore me all night?” you demand, your voice sharp with irritation.

Patrick turns, his cold gaze locking onto you. “You’re such a spoiled brat,” he says evenly, his tone devoid of warmth.

You blink, stunned. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he says, stepping closer. His presence overwhelming, and for the first time, a flicker of unease crosses your mind.

“The whining, the entitlement, the need for constant attention—it’s exhausting, darling,” he says, his tone sharp and cutting.

You open your mouth to retort, but he’s already on you, his hands gripping your arms as he pushes you against the entry wall.

His movements are firm bordering on violent as he holds you in place his face inches from yours.

“Patrick, you’re scaring me,” you whisper, your voice trembling.

“Good,” he says, his smirk cold and dangerous. “Maybe you should be scared.”

His hand moves to your jaw, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. “You walk around like the world owes you something. Do you even realize how ridiculous you sound?”

Tears brim your eyes, but your body betrays you, heat rising in your core as his grip on your jaw tightens keeping you firmly in place.

His sharp gaze flickers with something darker, more sinister, but he reins it in.

—She’s useful —break her…not entirely. You need her for connections —for appearances..to fit in

“Don’t cry,” he says soothingly, his grip loosening as he leans in closer, “You’ll ruin your makeup,” he whispers against your ear.

He pulls back, his sharp eyes locking onto yours with a detached precision, and before you can say anything, his mouth is on yours, kissing you with an intensity you’ve never known before.

His hands roam your body—firm and commanding—groping your waist, sliding up to squeeze your breasts

You pull back sharply, when his touch grows too rough, the possessiveness behind it making your heart race.

“Patrick—” you gasp, but he silences you, his hand wrapping around your throat tightly enough to make you stop.

“Quiet,” he orders, his voice low and commanding as he holds you in place. “You wanted my attention now you have it” he confirms his blue eyes locking onto yours with a sharp intensity.

A soft, involuntary sound escapes your lips as his grip tightens just enough to make your breath hitch, and your body betrays you as the slick evidence of your arousal forms between your thighs.

Patrick catches the flicker of desire in your eyes, his sharp gaze narrowing with dark satisfaction, and without hesitation he firmly presses his knee between your legs, slowly spreading them apart.

“You enjoy this, don’t you?” he observes, releasing his hold and lowering his lips down your neck, leaving a trail of sharp bites and kisses that make you gasp.

“Of course you do,” he rasps, his voice low and rough, as he yanks your head back, offering your neck for more of his mouth to mark and claim.

“A spoiled brat like you loves being put in her place,” he whispers against your neck, his hands sliding down your body, roughly pulling at your dress, bunching it up to your hips.

His fingers skim along your inner thighs, pausing just long enough to make you squirm, his eyes darkening with satisfaction at your impatience.

“So spoiled” he taunts his voice filled with lust.

His fingers press against your soaked panties, rubbing slow, teasing circles that make your hips writhe instinctively.

You can’t help but moan softly, aching for more, the tension in your body melting into pure need as he takes his time tormenting you, letting your hips roll against his hand.

“Stop that,” he orders, his hand firmly gripping between your thighs, the sudden restraint sending a surge of heat through your body. “You’ll move when I let you.”

“Patrick, please,” you whimper, your voice desperate, barely above a whisper.

He pulls your panties aside, his fingers sliding over your slick folds with maddening precision. “Please what?” he asks, his voice laced with dark seduction. “You don’t even know what you’re begging for, do you?”

His fingers slide inside you, and you gasp feeling each slow thrust hitting the perfect place within.

You moan softly as his sharp gaze remains locked on yours watching you struggle to remain still. The overwhelming sensation makes you clench helplessly around his fingers, the pleasure so intense it leaves you trembling against his hand.

“Look at you,” he whispers, his lips brushing against yours, refusing to kiss you fully. “My spoiled little brat, always getting exactly what she wants.”

You moan loudly as his thumb finds your clit, circling it with just enough pressure to make your thighs tighten against his hand.

“Don’t you dare stop Patrick …I-Im going to come” you whine softly, your voice laced with unmistakable entitlement.

“Of course you’re going to come” he mocks, his eyes gleaming with wicked satisfaction. “A spoiled brat like you always gets what she wants”

You cry out, choking back a sob as your body arches against him, the rush of release flooding through you as his fingers thrust into you relentlessly, making you orgasm with perfect precision.

He doesn’t stop as you come, his thrusts growing more intense, his fingers pushing deeper, his thumb working a devastating assault on your clit.

“One is never enough,” he says, his voice dark and commanding. “You’re going to come for me again.”

He leans in, his lips finding your neck, his mouth rough, his teeth grazing and nipping at your skin, making you clench around his fingers with each stinging bite.

Your moans grow louder, your body trembling as the pressure builds feeling him thrust impossibly faster.

Then, just as you’re on the brink, his fingers pull away abruptly, leaving you reeling, your breaths coming in short, desperate gasps without his touch.

Before you can protest, he grabs your thigh, roughly lifting it and pressing you back against the wall. The contrast of his height and unyielding strength sending a thrill through you.

“You can’t even wait for it, can you?” he taunts, his fingers moving to unbuckle his belt, his smirk deepening as he watches you squirm.

“I cant—” you confess your voice trembling hearing the sound of his zipper lowering in the silence.

Your eyes drop instinctively, your body writhing as he reveals his cock, the size and hardness making you bite down on your lip, all your thoughts blurring into one desperate need to have him inside you.

He teasingly strokes his hand along his impressive length, his sharp gaze pinning you in place. “This is exactly what you need,” he says, his tone low and dangerous as his hips align with yours. “To have me tame the spoiled little attitude right out of you until you’re begging me to let you come.”

You gasp sharply feeling the thick, blunt tip of his cock press against your wetness, the slick sound of your arousal filling the silence as he pushes in just barely.

A broken moan escapes your lips, your hips instinctively shifting toward him, desperate for more, but he pulls back just as quickly, leaving you aching.

“Please Patrick” You whimper, your eyes wide and pleading meeting his sharp gaze. His smirk deepens, a flicker of satisfaction crossing his face as he takes in your desperation.

“Already begging?” he taunts in disbelief. “You can’t even handle a second of patience without falling apart can you,” he mocks with amusement.

He smoothly pushes in again even slower, parting you inch by excruciating inch as you clutch his shoulders feeling the size of his cock.

Then he thrusts into you hard, a cry ripping from your throat as he fills you completely in one brutal motion.

The sudden fullness of his penetration has you gasping, your body pinned helplessly between him and the wall, his grip on your thigh tightening to keep you in place.

“What’s the matter?” he pauses, letting you struggle against the overwhelming size of his cock, the sharp ache radiating through you as he holds you still, refusing to move.

“Too much for my spoiled little princess?” he grins, his voice dark and cutting as his sharp gaze locks onto your flushed face, watching every tremble and gasp with satisfaction.

He holds you in place he thrusts into you with unyielding force, each drive of his hips erasing every coherent thought from your mind.

Your lips part, gasping and trembling, releasing broken breathless moans as your chest heaves with every breath.

“You’re an absolute mess for me,” he taunts, his voice uneven as he thrusts harder, his pace unrelenting as your moans grow louder, spilling freely now, your body trembling under his control.

The pressure builds impossibly fast, his cock thrusting with a relentless speed, hitting that perfect spot over and over until your thighs quake and you’re left gasping his name.

His hand grips the back of your neck, his sharp gaze locking onto your eyes now dazed in bliss, a testament to how thoroughly he’s taming you.

“Completely ruined… just like I knew you’d be,” he rasps with satisfaction, seeing your face blushing radiantly in surrender. “My perfect little fiancée, undone entirely on my cock.” He breathes, desperation lacing his voice as he loses himself in the moment.

You moan for him, lost in pleasure your hands gripping the back of his neck, your nails digging into his skin as his pace grows faster, harder, each thrust forcing a gasp from your lips as your body struggles to keep up with his brutal pace.

The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the space, drowning out your whimpers and cries, your body jerking with each unrelenting thrust.

“Patrick… please…” you manage, your words broken between desperate breaths, your chest heaving as you struggle to form a coherent thought.

Your muscles clench involuntarily, each punishing thrust drawing a raw cry from your lips, your body reacting helplessly to his relentless force.

“You act so spoiled —so untouchable —but look how easily you break for me,” he pants, his grip tightening on your thigh, yanking you closer while his other hand presses your hip firmly against the wall, pinning you in place as he pounds into you with unyielding control.

Your mind goes blank, your moans turning into incoherent cries as he dominates you.

Your orgasm tears through you, your sobs catching in your throat as your body clenches and quivers against him.

His teeth graze along your jawline as he groans in pleasure, his pace never faltering as he uses your trembling body to push his own release.

Then he tenses every muscle, and with one final thrust, he comes in you, the ferocity of his movements leaving you helpless against the force of him.

He groans, deep and broken as he thrusts into you one last time, his release pulsing through you, his satisfaction undeniable as he claims you completely.

When he finally pulls back, he glides his cock out slowly, leaving you aching and weak against the wall

He’s breathless as he tucks himself away, fastening his pants with a precision that feels almost indifferent.

You’re left stunned and incoherent, your body a mess of pleasure and exhaustion as you catch your breath.

Stepping back, he loosens his silk tie and unbuttons his dress shirt with casual ease, a smirk playing on his lips as his sharp gaze rakes over your trembling body.

—She’s so entitled, insufferable at times, yes… but look at that face. Perfect. Flawless. Even as a spoiled brat she serves her purpose.

—The satisfaction of knowing she can give me exactly what I want keeps her useful to me—but nothing lasts forever, and when her purpose runs out, so will my patience.

Patrick’s eyes remain steady on yours for a moment before the familiar sharp smirk forms on his lips—it’s confident, seductive, and entirely just for you.

“Come, darling I’ll run you a bath,” he says casually as he walks away, his tone calm and composed, as if what just happened was the most natural thing in the world.

As he disappears into the master bedroom, you remain standing there your body still stunned, unable to deny the heat still coursing through you—and how much you hated —and loved seeing him lose control.

🔪 END

🔗 Master List

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[hellsitedotcom]

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*·˚ ft. AVENTURINE, DR. RATIO (separately) *·˚

x ''Wise men say only fools rush in, but I can't help falling in love with you.'' ▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊|• 0:20

*·˚ warnings: none; reader's gender not specified *·˚ english isn't my native language!

*·˚ more tba?

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This was...impossible. By all means, it should've never happened. And yet, here he was, realizing in terror that his - Dr. Veritas Ratio's -calculations were wrong.

The man found himself leaning against a desk, watching from a distance as you spoke to Mr. Screwllum and Mrs. Asta, your expression one of deep thought while his was obscured by the white alabaster sculpture he chose to wear.

He did not want anyone reading him, seeing behind the carefully built mask that was hiding the inner turmoil he found himself feeling anytime he looked at you.

This...it wasn't right. Something was wrong, and in due time, he would solve that issue, just as he always did. But...as much as he tried to ignore it...there was this gut feeling he couldn't shake off, whispering to him that this wasn't an issue he could solve so easily.

Lost in his own thoughts, he didn't even notice you walking over to him, your previous conversation apparently finished. ''Dr. Ratio,'' you interrupted him, tilting your head just the slightest bit as he looked up, his alabaster eyes locking with yours.

Underneath the sculpture's mask, his brows furrowed, mind racing as he struggled to identify the issue you were causing him, ''What is it? Have you finally finished your little chat?''

''We have...'' you muttered, raising a brow, ''I- Is everything alright, Doctor? You seem...distracted.''

Straightening up, the man's inner voice mocked ''What does it look like?'', though he found himself holding his tongue for the first time in a long while. ''I do not see that being of importance here,'' he calmly answered instead, pushing himself off the table, ''Are we ready to leave?''

Despite the question, he did not wait for your reply, brushing past you without sparing you another glance. He needed to figure out what was going on, and he needed to do so fast.

Though, when he stepped outside the room, he found himself stopping, brows furrowing further as he felt the urge to look back as if waiting for you. Why, pray tell, would he feel the need to wait for you? A part of him wanted to comment on your slowness, just to say something - anything, though he again chose to hold his tongue, growing increasingly frustrated with himself.

What were you doing to him?

A coin between his fingers, Aventurine absently tossed it from one hand to the other, eyes obscured by his glasses as he stared into nothingness.

Beside him, lying on his desk with the screen unlocked was his phone, your text messages left opened. Why did he even text you in the first place? His brows furrowed as he caught the coin with his right hand.

You weren't of any use to him anymore, so why would he still entertain this...relationship. ''Just doing business,'' he muttered to himself, eyes still fixed on something only he could see, ''It'll pay off.''

Liar. And he knew it. Deep down, Aventurine knew that this...business deal...wasn't going to do anything. There wasn't any reward to be earned from it, no matter how much he tried to sugar coat it.

One couldn't even qualify this as a risk, or a gamble. If it were a gamble, there was a chance that he would win, but there was no winning here. Again, there was nothing to be won from wanting to meet you.

And still, he hoped you would agree to come see him. The IPC would tear him a new one, he was fully aware of that. But, as he sat there, waiting for your reply, he found himself...not caring about that consequence. What was going on with him?

The sound of a notification pulled him out of his thoughts, his eyes snapping to his phone screen, excitement making his heart jump when he noticed that you had finally replied.

Why meet? There's nothing more we could potentially have to discuss. Did you get the contact wrong?

He was a fool, wasn't he? Still, he picked up the phone and typed out a reply, hoping his sweet talk would convince them to at least hear him out in person. What was there to hear out?

And, after some back and forth, a smirk made its way onto his lips, his eyes lighting up.

Fine, just don't make me regret this. I'll be waiting by the Clockie statue.

Good. That was good, wasn't it? Aventurine found himself staring at your message, and despite his triumphant expression, he didn't feel like he won. Why was he doing this?

Standing up from his desk, he put his phone away, fixing his appearance in the mirror before meeting his reflections eyes, his confidence momentarily faltering.

There's no reward. Nothing. He was merely a fool. Why do this?

And then, before he could shake off those thoughts, a small voice spoke up for the first time since he had messaged you.

You were the reward.

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