#For before I shall come to a decision I shall have fallen to the floor collapsed without vision.

[lazywriters-blog]

INNOCENT WITH A LIAR

I couldn't just sit by and do nothing after witnessing those pictures of Lyney holding- ahem! Oh, I think I just dodged a bullet again.

SUMMARY: You've heard voices around you as you are blindfolded, while you know you aren't in danger as it is a magic show, one can only pray nothing goes wrong.

WARNING: Nothing I can think of mentioning. Am I implying hypnosis? Yes, maybe. Also, I accidentally posted this... So... There's that.

The magician gave her the creeps, gently holding her shoulders and urging her to sit down on the chair, she looked at him one last time as he whipped out a piece of cloth and aligned it with her eyes, blocking out the crowd of people watching them, not being able to see them provided some relief.

Then, she felt his breath fan her earlobe and his voice closer than before. "Relax, your shoulders are far too stiff, there's no need to be scared," he murmured, his grasp increasingly growing tighter.

She doesn't feel good about this.

"Ladies and gentlemen! I shall make her disappear and reappear right from where she came from." he declared, showing his clothed wrist to the public and grinning wide. The lack of his touch further cemented just how tight he had held, "Don't close your eyes."

She is certain everybody is looking at her intently, straining their eyes to not miss a second and a whiff of the magician's secrets. Surely, if they focused without blinking once, they'd come to know how he did his tricks.

However, she doesn't know why she has to be blindfolded.

"On the count of three, say it with me... One..." he begins with a cheerful tone, and suddenly she's not too sure about why she accepted to volunteer, It seemed like a bad decision now that she's here on the stage and waiting impatiently.

"Two..."

"... Three!!" he pitched up his voice and then, the floor opened up beneath her making her fall to her doom as the crowd gasped.

She groaned as she fell out of the chair and landed someplace dark, picking herself up from the fallen stool she took off her blindfold and set her eyes on the door, jogging towards it she twisted the handle and it refused to curl and open. If this was a trick, someone would have to have been around to help her. Surely!

Mirrors reflected her frame and the candles did little to light up the place, arrayed hangers gently swinging right and left, and the make-up stalls smeared with accidental paints and lip tints, a resting spot and other things a dressing room would contain.

Unbeknownst to her, she had someone else taking her place.

"My dear audience she's appeared." Lyney smiled, and the spotlight showered down the seat she had been seated in. "Now you know she couldn't have walked there on her own."

The crowd clapped and she could hear them above her, she'd always known magicians tricked people but why did it have to be her? She frantically looked around, this had to be a mistake! Why would he have a problem with her?

There they were, still with their blindfold on and gripping the seat for dear life, heaving for air as the audience laughed loud and clear at the bowing magician. It had been his solo performance that evening and they couldn't be more impressed, indeed a grand finale for the parting.

She prepared herself to crash into the door hopeful that it would cause an unmissable thud, but nothing indicated they'd heard it, she had to make another sound.

She had to make them know whoever was in her place wasn't her! And she's still down here!!

"I shall see you all in my next performance!" he spoke over the sounds she managed to make, perhaps she had it wrong, and they were just keeping her there for the time being to make sure their magic secrets weren't exposed. "Hey!! I'm still here!!" she shouted.

"Hey!!! Be careful my dear people!!" he nervously grinned as rows of seat gradually emptied, one person hanged around a little longer to glance back and look at the magician quickly vanish behind the curtains rushing to the backrooms.

Of course, they had believed his lies.

The house was cleared of every citizen as lyney approached his sister who returned from the shadow. "So, how did it go? Did people believe it?"

"Looked like it, but was it really necessary?"

Lyney stumbled a little but regained his confidence quickly and retorted, "Of course, it was necessary! Otherwise, my feelings would have gone unheard." he muttered, his sister did not want to see him sad that had to be why she assisted.

But, doubt was a natural notion to any person.

"Alright... If you say so, let's go and see her." She unfolded her crossed arms and faced in the direction of the hidden rooms, lyney perked up and led the way to the secret passway underground they'd trapped her into. Nobody knew she never left the theater.

"Okay, wish me luck! If anything goes wrong, I need you to back me up Lynette."

"Yeah yeah, don't worry I won't let anyone find you confessing your love-"

"Hey! Not so loud!" he hurriedly urged.

"Stop being so paranoid bro..." Lynette deadpanned, leaning against the wall while her brother finally opened the door, looked at her once, and stepped in.

Perhaps the landing had been harsh, he should have kept something softer to cushion the fall but no use grieving over it since the task was complete and he had won his prize. He only needed to speak up and... Let his brain do the automated work.

Besides, he had practiced near to perfection. It couldn't be hard. He hopes at least.

"Hello, my dear lady... Sorry about the situation I put you into, I hope you are not that mad at me." he slowly pulls off his gloves, and sets his hat by the makeup booth. The room lit up bright with lights and candles, he had prepared everything to accommodate her short stay and make it somewhat romantic.

"I see you've taken off your blindfold, that's good... I would have been too shy to take them off myself since your eyes are so pretty..." he mused, closing the distance inch by inch and absorbing the shift in her behavior, usually when one's shoulders are raised and their backs erect. They're ready to fight out of fear. He'd know to be careful.

Her eyes are wide open and her breaths are audible for him to hear, the room had been quiet until he appeared. She didn't scream bloody murder whilst she had been down there, so maybe that's a good sign for him to consider.

"Are you alright? I could-" She quickly moved back when he took a step far too big, but he swiftly recovered, "I could take you someplace better if this is not to your liking." he lowered himself to her level, and magically, a plate of cake sat atop his palm. "You like cakes, don't you? I brought this for you earlier."

She hadn't eaten before coming to his show. "What do you want?" she asked the question nagging her, shuffled back some more, and glued her eyes on him. "Are you the one behind the serial disappearance?"

"Oh no! I would never do such a thing, but you are an exception I couldn't resist. Forgive me." he rested his hand on his chest and peered down. "I never would have done it if you hadn't gone and stolen my heart, honest. Unfortunately, we were... Ways apart and it had been hard to simply let my feelings drowse." he carried on.

"You see, I like you... And I couldn't find any other way to express that without..." he shook his head, "I wanted it to be a secret. That's all." he put on his plastic fake smile he's shown to the audience mere seconds ago.

"Oh..." she stared at him, he couldn't say it was a reaction he was anticipating. "What's wrong?" he took the bait even while understanding everything was wrong.

"Nothing... I thought I was kidnapped and... Awaiting bad things to happen." she softly uttered and faked a smile, he knew they were perfect for each other.

"I would never hurt you," he reassured.

"... Yeah." she had been slow to respond.

"Perhaps not the best confession you've witnessed but," he pulled a bouquet of roses out of thin air, "would you give me the pleasure of being your date for tonight?"

She did not move and stared at the bundle of red held before her, something about him just didn't sit right with her and it was driving her insane, she couldn't tell what troubled her.

She took in a deep breath and shook her head, "I'm sorry I'm far too frightened tonight to be your date, may I leave?" She wondered if her polite tone would do the job, "I would love to tomorrow." She had to fake something.

"Oh! That's alright..." he lowered his hand. The sight of his smile dropping was unnerving for her to watch, and she didn't know why, had she seen this exact enactment before somewhere?

"Can I escort you outside?" He stood up on his feet as soon as she had walked to the door and he closed the distance between them, She didn't want to show her back to him, she quickly turned around and gulped, "Please don't get so close to me." her heartbeat had picked up.

He didn't say anything but hurt had been written all over his face, "Can you unlock it?" she gestured to the door.

"Can I show you one more trick before you leave?" he mumbled.

"No, I'm good, I think I've seen enough of your magic tonight. Can I leave?"

"I know it looks bad but 'father' would have never encouraged such behavior from me." he gripped his fists, "I needed this to be perfect!! But I blew it!!" he shouted, and she stumbled back to the door to support herself. "I can't let you go knowing everything."

"Lyney, is everything alright? Why are you yelling?" A girl's voice resounded outside, she had never been so happy to know someone else could ambush her.

"Please, can you open the door?" she tried her luck at convincing the other voice, but Lyney quickly sternly retorted, "Don't, Lynette. I need your help."

"Why are you doing this? I won't tell any of your secrets to the public! I swear! Just open the door!"

"I need you to calm down. Everything is alright, you can relax." he took a small step forward, and two steps back when she refused to let him touch her, "I won't hurt you I promise! Don't do this to me!!" Everything hurt and he couldn't deny that it kept growing the more he drank in the terrified expression on her face.

Lynette could no longer stand still hearing the voices inside. She opened the entry and to her surprise, her brother's beloved crush fell out and landed on the floor, "Lynette! I told you not to open it!"

"My bad. She's the one you confessed to last night and failed?" She didn't seem bothered by the harsh tone her brother used. "You know, 'Father' would probably want to meet her if word gets out, right?"

"If it gets out, I won't let it."

"Whatever you say, bro. Do your thing."

[alrissamariam]

"I don't feel so good."

I think I’m getting bad again, maybe worse this time. And I’m not sure anyone can help me even if they wanted to.

I have lived and I have learned, I have lost and I have loved.

My mind has gone blank for I have been feeling everything and nothing at the same time. My heart is heavy with self-doubt and discouragement. My shoulders sag with undetermined decisions and heavy burdens. My feet are heavy with balls of steel chained around my ankles.

I don’t feel so good.

The nightmares have become too daunting that I seek comfort in the night skies by the side of the road. The only way to silence my mind would be a dangerous run outside the safety of home at midnight while the rain pelts my skin and stings my cuts. 

I feel horrible for the people around me, because I have been told that being friends with somebody who is drained drains you. Am I draining you guys too? If so, shall I move away? Or will you help to extend your hand that you know I’ll struggle for eternity trying to reach?

My appetite has gone from my body and my skin has dropped a shade on my face, the bags under my eyes are sandbags that continue to descend, my throat is closed up most of the time and my body is not here.

I feel disgusted with myself when I stare at the food I could barely finish, because all I wanted to do was push it off the table and watch the plate shatter on the floor so I could cut my crevices bigger to allow my hands in so I could fix myself.

There’s ringing in my ear, my heart is clashing against my ribcage, my eyes are drooping with fatigue, my skin is cold, my movements are sluggish. Every breath I try to suck in is choked, like there happens to be a ball of self-sabotage lodged into my throat.

I remember unlocking the door so slowly as I tried to keep myself upright and the moment I stepped into the quiet and dark house, I shut the door and my bag fell from my shoulder. My head was spinning, my breaths shallow and the water was up to my throat. 

One step forward to try to at least get to the bean bag, and before I knew it, my head had fallen before my body as it crumbled to the marble floor with a thud–yet there was silence. 

Nobody had heard anything and nobody had come down. 

I couldn’t utter a single sound.

I couldn’t reach for my phone.

I wasn’t sure how long I stayed on the floor like that, but the bump on the back of my head was enough to tell me that I probably hit my head hard enough to be knocked out for a bit. The strain in my ribs was a clear indication that my terrifying past would probably come back, and moments of standing in the corner to eavesdrop on what the doctor was saying to my dad came back to me.

How do I ask for help?

I felt like my voice was taken from me, my freedom strangled and my privacy breached. At twenty-one, I feel as dead as I never have. I feel like a walking zombie instead of a fucking human.

I hated blacking out, unsure if by the time I come to, which would hurt first between my head, side or entirety? How do I eat when all I want is to throw it all back up? How does one believe they’re allowed to ask for help when all they’ve been told is that they’re a burden?

Beban. That’s what I am.

A burden to others.

I don’t feel so good.

I feel sick, my stomach churning, heart failing and soul disappearing. I wanted to be allowed room to make my own decisions and mistakes, and still be cared for as one should be. 

I feel clingy, starved of physical touch and affection that I crave so much from a woman who would always put man before her children when her children should always come first.

I feel disgusted, not with anyone but myself for the way I’ve treated myself and the things my mind haunts me with, screaming at me that I should do it sooner rather than later because who the fuck would miss me?

I feel empty–gone are the pieces of myself that I worshipped and took pride in, replaced with self-loathe and mockery. My mouth has been sewn shut and my heart is banging on my chest to be expressed, to be let out and it begged for help.

But my mind knew better. It was a constant battle with my heart about who gets to make the decision. Do we let the heart win and beg for help, or do we let the mind stay in control and keep our mouth shut so we don’t burden others?

I’m not so sure anymore.

But all I know is; I don’t feel so good.

[twobraincellkentwell]

Go Fish

[A Game Called Revenge]

Part Eighteen

Series Masterlist Part One.

Summary: "ᴀɴʏᴏɴᴇ ᴄᴀɴ ʙᴇ ᴀ ꜰɪꜱʜᴇʀᴍᴀɴ ɪɴ ᴊᴜʟʏ." It's a shame they don't have any sugarcubes.

Warnings: strictly 18+ due to the nature of content in some of the chapters. Murder and death. Mentions of sex probably.

Word Count: 4.7k

A/N: Firstly I want to just say my usuals, I have a favourite line so if you can find it then let me know :) reblogs, shares and comments always appreciate.

Four silhouettes are illuminated by the faint moonlight and the distant glimmer of the sea as it crashes against the spokes. The four careers stand at the threshold of the jungle, weapons in hand as they try to reach a decision on how they should enter and which way to turn. Gloss, keen to act as their leader, is the first to take tentative footsteps into the uncharted territory of the jungle ahead, his sister walking beside him. Clio and Cato fall alongside each other as they follow, the sand beneath their feet transitioning into the soil of the jungle where fallen leaves and tangled tree roots obscure the path. As the four of them climb into the depths of the rainforest, they’re immediately wrapped in the hot embrace of the intense humidity and their vision dwindles with the towering trees fragmenting their only source of light into dancing patches on the forest floor.

“Maybe we should’ve waited until sunrise.” Cashmere says as she watches her brother carefully part a curtain of vines.

“He’ll have moved by then.” Gloss answers. “Just stay quiet.”

“We can’t see anything Gloss!” She retaliates sharply.

“Fine. We’ll wait here.” The siblings pause at a cluster of towering trees, leaning against it as their whispers blend with the gentle rustling of leaves. 

“Shall we light a fire?” Clio jokes as she and Cato come to a stop beside a neighbouring tree.

“Did you not learn any survival skills, Clio?” Gloss spits back.

“It was a joke , Gloss.” She mutters under her breath when Cashmere gives her a sympathetic smile. “And besides, if they wanna kill us, let ‘em try.”

“We don’t have matches.” Cashmere reminds them.  

“Then the fire’s out.” Cato shrugs. “We could find a cave? Maybe some berries? You think there’s a dam in here?”

“Cato!”

“I’m kidding!” He laughs, joining the others in sitting with their backs against the large tree. Cato kicks at the dirt on the ground as he glances at the vegetation around them and the tracks they’ve left behind. 

After about thirty minutes of comfortable silence as they all close their eyes for some still much needed rest, the first hints of dawn begin to paint the sky with hues of indigo before it turns into a deep orange and casts both light and shadow into the jungle. A cannon booms. “We should move.”

The pair from One follow the markings Cato kicked into the ground and begin to walk to the left, taking the lead and cutting away at any creeping vines that block their path with their. Clio and Cato follow behind them, weapons in opposing hands to cover their dominant sides. There’s no sign of any freshwater, just vines and trees and more vines as they try to keep as close to a straight line as possible to make their way around the arena. 

“How many cannons went off overnight?” Gloss asks over his shoulder.

“Two.” Clio replies. “That one this morning was the third.”

“Eleven down. Ten to go.”

“What if we’re hunting for a dead man?” Cashmere raises a question. “Clio’s note said he was with Twelve. What if she’s already got him?”

“She won’t have-” Cato starts before turning to face his girlfriend as he walks, “What note?”

Clio reaches into the inside pocket of her knife vest to retrieve the sponsor note and pushes it into Cato’s hand. He unfolds the slip of brown parchment with the one hand, bringing it closer to his face to read the words in the dim lighting of the early morning. “Pretty boy? L.C? Don’t tell me that stands for Loopy Crawfish.”

“Yup,” she pops the end of the word. “I actually think she wants me to kill him.”

“Why would she ever want that?” Gloss furrows his brow, stopping and turning to face the couple behind him.

“She called her a chicken.”

“So?” Gloss questions, confused.

“Loopy knows what happens when the word chicken is mentioned. She may as well have written kill Finnick.”

“They’re friends.” Cashmere looks over her shoulder as she continues to stride forward, giving Clio a look to shut up . “Why would she want you to kill her friend ?”

“They’re a bit more than friends.” Cato laughs.

“Not for much longer though.” Clio shrugs her shoulders. “Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed they’ve been having some issues .”

“What issues?” Cashmere asks excitedly, desperate to know the latest gossip. “They remind me of you two, I don’t know why they didn’t just go public.”

“Absolutely not.” Clio shuts her down. “Don’t compare me to her!”

“Or me,” Cato agrees. “I’m not some trident swinging loser.”

“A sword swinging one instead.” Gloss snickers. 

“I’m serious.” Clio says, stomping her feet into the soil as she walks. “If Luna was in here I’d kill her slowly and enjoy it for her comment last year.”

“Aw c’mon, you know she meant it as a compliment.” Cashmere says.

“I don’t care. It would have to be something symbolic, maybe drag her into the sea and drown her.” Clio giggles to herself. “Full circle kind of thing.”

“That’s how we should get Finnick.” Gloss decides, swinging his machete into some low hanging vines. “Luna would love it.”

“Brutus!” Cato shouts towards the sky. “We could do with some matches.”

“Why?” Gloss asks as Clio and Cashmere look towards him.

“If we’re being symbolic then surely the bitch on fire has to burn.” He wiggles his eyebrows excitedly. “Before we rip her limbs off.”

“I’m not sure we need to do all that with her.” Cashmere replies, averting her eyes to the floor. “Burning her is enough, her sister will be watching.”

“Good.” Cato says.

“Listen to yourself, Cash. Don’t be pathetic.” Clio sneers. “She’s the root of all our problems. It’s insane when you really think about it because to be honest with you she’s really not that special. She’s just a stupid girl. A stupid virgin girl in a fake relationship who will be so easy to kill.”

“Clio, you can’t do that. You won’t get time.”

“Oh yes I can and I will and I can’t wait.” She slips the nunchucks from her shoulders and slings them in front of her; the chain clinking as it pulls.

“Brutus!” Cato shouts again, “I’d like some popcorn too. Salty, obviously.”

“No! Give us sweet popcorn.” Clio protests, through the trees towards the sky. 

“Salty.” Cato repeats. “Clio will be busy killing her, she won’t get to eat it.”

Their conversations quieten down as Gloss shushes them, hearing the faint rustling of leaves in the distance. They walk slowly for at least ten minutes, keeping their steps as light as they can and scanning the dense foliage for any sign of Finnick - or any of the others. 

“Guys I need a piss.”

“Clio,” Gloss groans, “You couldn’t have gone by the water?”

“Well I didn’t need it then.” She replies. “I can’t control my bladder.”

She hands her baton and nunchucks to Cashmere to hold, telling her she wants them back when she returns before grabbing Cato’s hand and tugging him towards a particularly dense section of plants.

“Hey!” Gloss shouts, “Why is Cato going too?”

“I need cover,” Clio shouts back, not bothering to turn around to face him. “I am not dying mid piss, and I trust him the most. No offence.”

“None taken.” He laughs, “Just hurry up. We’ll wait here.”

Clio smacks a low hanging tree branch out of the way before it takes her eye out, walking backwards for a few steps as she drags Cato with her. Coming to a halt, she unclips her knife vest, throwing it at him and unbuckling the clasp around her waist that will let her roll the wetsuit down. “Turn around.”

“Are you serious?”

“I can’t go with you watching me.” She says, “I’ll get shy.”

“You are the least shy person I know.” Cato laughs, turning around anyway and watching the underbrush in case anyone decides to use this as their chance to strike. While his right hand holds his sword outstretched in front of him, his left hand adjusts his grip on her knife vest. “How is this so heavy?”

“I’ve got eleven knives in there.” She replies, “Seriously have a look.”

Pushing his sword into the ground, he unfolds the knife vest and ignores the noise her canteen of water makes as he counts the knives sheathed perfectly into their slots in the fabric. He removes a few, examining the size and condition of the blades before slotting them back into the vest. “Luna gave you these ?”

“Yup.” Clio nods, appearing at his side and stretching her arms out for him to put the vest back around her body.

“She really does want you to kill Finnick.” Cato agrees as he pulls his sword from the ground and follows Clio as they start walking back towards the other pair of their alliance.

“Let's go!” Clio announces their return, grabbing her weapons from Cashmere and restoring their positions around her shoulder. “We’ve got lives to avenge, revenge and destroy.”

“Yeah!” Her friends cheer in agreement. Gloss subtly guides Cato to walk up front with him while Clio and Cashmere walk at the back of their group, the younger woman turning every minute or so to check no one has managed to sneak up behind them. They walk for a while, keeping to their path as more of the arena gradually becomes visible as the sun rises and chatting idly to themselves until Gloss points at something in the distance. “You see that?”

“I can’t see anything past Cato’s massive head.” Clio mumbles, kicking at the vines in front of her feet as they continue to walk.

“You’ve never complained before,” he teases her. “Maybe I need to be begging Brutus to find a sponsor willing to gift you some stilts.”

“Maybe you need to stop talking before I make you.” She retorts, shuffling to the left to try and get a look at whatever it is Gloss is pointing at.

“Is that a promise?” Cato laughs, turning to face her before he lunges forward as his arm extends and finds the place beneath her knees and lower back so he can lift her from the ground. “That better?”

Clio’s feet dangle in midair as they flail in an attempt to kick him enough so that he returns her to the floor. Her fingers cling instinctively to his shoulder, grip firm as her other hand resorts to slapping his chest harshly. “Put me down!” She hisses.

“Sure.” He feigns tossing her to the floor before he throws her up into the air, stopped only by her arm moving from his shoulder to round his neck.

“Not what I meant!” She screeches as he catches her in his arm, throwing her again. “Cato!”

“That’s my name, angel, don’t wear it out.”

“What the fuck man.” Gloss groans with a shake of his head. “Whoever was out there has definitely ran off after all the noise you two just made.”

“Oops?” Cato shrugs his comment off.

“Maybe we should lead, hey Cash?” Gloss jokes.

“Let them lead.” Cashmere says, her tone biting as she tries to portray her thoughts to her brother. “I don’t really want Clio trailing behind us.”

“Oh, nice. Wondered when that was going to come up.” Clio responds with a short laugh, feet now firmly on the floor again as she goes to grab Cashmere’s arm. “Well if I’m at the front then you’re walking with me. I’m not stupid.”

“Fine.” The blonde woman concedes, pushing Clio’s hand from her bicep and starting to continue their journey through the thick jungle before wiping sweat from her hairline and brow. “It’s literally hell in this jungle.”

“You can say that again,” Gloss agrees, taking a large gulp from his flask. “And these suits don’t exactly help.”

“Do you think we’d get more sponsors if I just took it off?” Cato jokes.

“Don’t you dare!” Clio shouts over her shoulder, rolling her eyes when he winds her up about being jealous before they sit against a tree for a break. Leaning against the tree, they form a semicircle with their backs supported by the rough bark. The air is thinner as they stretch their legs in front of them, but thick with the smell of the earth and the vegetation. The gentle rustling of leaves mixes with the chirping of insects and birds above and the sunlight filters through the thick canopy to leave a soft, dappled glow upon their faces. Each closing their eyes - and assuming the others will be keeping look out, a quiet calm settles over them as they catch their breath and take swigs of their water to rehydrate. After a while, they collectively sigh and straighten from their rest. 

“If they’d have made them fight last year.” Cashmere starts as they stand up and the two girls move to the front of the group once again. “Who do you think would have won?”

“ Her. ” Clio replies.

“I agree.” Cato nods, “He’s useless.”

“So do I.” Gloss chimes in. “I’d have liked to see Peeta and Luna in a final two, see the two most incompetent victors fight it out.”

“I wouldn’t.” Cato shakes his head. “They’d be so boring.”

“They’re just boring.” Clio laughs, “Their one personality trait is dating a victor.”

“And yours isn’t?” Gloss jokes. 

“Uh, no .” She spits. “I won in my own right. By myself. I didn’t need anyone bending the rules for me or creating natural disasters to get me out. Just because we happen to be the best of the best doesn’t mean we’re completely interdependent, and I’d shut your fucking mouth unless you want my defining personality trait to be taking out both District One tributes again.”

“What she said.” Cato snorts, trying not to convulse with laughter at the disgruntled expression spreading across Gloss’ face.

“Okay, okay.” Cashmere pacifies, arms held in surrender. “Let’s not go killing each other before we find Finnick, otherwise our hunt will be for nothing.”

“They can’t call us the revengers if we don’t get him.” Gloss agrees.

“No one calls us the revengers.”

“Well they should, it’s-”

“It’s lame.” Clio cuts him off as she breaks the dense vines in front of her eye line with her baton. “But we are here for revenge.”

“A revenge party!” Cashmere exclaims, “With our three best friends.”

“A party that ends with Finnick’s head on a spear.” 

“Like this fish.” Cashmere says, flicking at the limp fish still impaled on the spear she wields from earlier in the morning when Clio had caught it from the water.

They continue to laugh as they push their way through the undergrowth, heading uphill slightly at one point to see if their visibility increases, but maintaining their jokes at Finnick’s expense as they cheer and holler their way through the jungle. Not very subtle , Clio thinks to herself as they shout a chant aloud, Oh who cares, not like they won’t know we’re looking for them.  

After what is probably another hour, the sound of screaming breaks through the arena, followed by large growls and what is undoubtedly the sound of flesh ripping from the bone. The jungle seems to amplify the sounds, the scream loud and piercing as they all wince at the pitch and try to work out whether they’re close to the source.

“That better not be Finnick.” Cato huffs.

“It’s not.” Clio replies. “Doesn’t sound anything like the one this morning.”

“Well whoever it is, they’re not having a good time with that mutt.” Gloss laughs.

A cannon booms. The four of them look to the sky to see the hovercraft break through the nearby trees. The claw picks up five different body parts in separate trips. The careers can’t identify the body as it is lifted from the ground and into the sky, grimacing at the thought of being ripped apart by whatever kind of Capitol-created beast as they keep moving around the trees.

When they brush past the thickest, tallest tree in the segment, the arena falls dark.

[mybeautifuldelirium]

Centuries Apart Part 3 || Aemond Targaryen x got!Reader

CHAPTER LIST (must read first)

Summary: The aftermath of Y/N’s actions at the feast + some Aemond interactions that may change the course of her plans

Warnings: Angst!!

A/N: finally finished part 3 loves, hope you enjoy, I’d love to hear your thoughts xx p.s. this is def gonna be kind of a slow burn story but I really wanted to build up the dynamic of their relationship 😉

“Dōrī nārhēdegon, ñuha dārilaros, eman se ānogar hen zaldrīzes isse nyke. Valyrio muño ēngos ñuhys issa” (never forget, my prince, I have the blood of the dragon. Valyrian is my mother tongue) she deviously grinned back at him before heading back towards her chambers. ‘Twas a game, she was prepared to play.

Aemond grunted in frustration, swiftly turning around and heading down the hallway. There were very few, capable of getting under the prince’s skin, very few capable of leaving him speechless yet this mysterious girl that he himself brought in, just mere days ago, was already managing to make his blood boil.

-

It was a gloomy cold morning, what little light could peek through the windows was now gently caressing Y/N’s cheek as she had fallen asleep on the daybed, not even ridding herself of the attire from the feast. The nightly encounter with the one eyed prince had left her annoyed and frustrated. Not only was she stuck in a world centuries ahead of her time, but now she had to spend the rest of her days wed to that arrogant prick.

“Good morrow, my lady” the chirpy voice of Lysa rang across the princess’s chambers “Forgive me, for awaking you, but The Hand has requested your presence”

Y/N slowly rubbed her eyes open “Good, I shall be there then, bring me a dress” the princess mumbled, groaning from the pain, caused by the uncomfortable position she had slept in.

-

It was still an early hour, the Keep was hauntingly quiet, the only sound being her light steps on the cold stone floors, echoing through the hallways, followed by the nimble skips of her maid. Y/N couldn’t deny her reluctance to speak with The Hand, she was well aware of the repercussions of her behavior at the feast.

“Wait here Lysa, I’ll return shortly” the princess sighed, entering the small council chamber.

She stayed at the doors for a second, indulging in the view before her. She was once a part of a small council, a part of Daenerys’ small council, though, alas it never was to be in this very chamber.

“If you please, lady Y/N, do make yourself comfortable” Otto ordered sternly, as he stepped forward, motioning towards the empty chairs across the table. “I assume you’re recognizant of your position in the court”

“You mean the position you put me in?!” Y/N reiterated, flames igniting in her violet gaze.

“Yes, the position I put you in, the position as an advisor and the wife to be to a prince of the Targaryen dynasty” the man growled, losing his patience. “If it weren’t for my trust in your words, they’d soon have you burned as a witch. You claim to be a true Targaryen princess yet you behave like a wildling”

Y/N jolt up from the chair at his words, hands grasping at the edge of the table “Unlike your beloved princelings, I did not have the chance to be raised as a royal, my childhood was spent in exile, at the mercy of strangers in foreign lands” she hissed “My birth rights were stolen, I lost all the family I had, all because of decisions made centuries before my time, decisions you all made. I sacrificed everything to come here and prevent the fall of house Targaryen yet I keep being humiliated and have my legitimacy questioned”

“I understand your frustration but if you so desire to live and help us win this war, you shall know your place” Otto exhaled, trying to keep his composure “You’re to be wed to prince Aemond, be a good wife, bear his heirs and earn his trust. If your words hold any truth, you hold more power and value than you ever imagined” a devious smirk played on his lips as he headed towards the doors.

-

“Is everything alright, my lady?” Y/N was met with the concerned voice of Lysa who had been waiting for her outside the chamber.

The princess silently nodded but before she was able to properly respond, her eyes caught the sight of her betrothed in the courtyard, conversing with the man who had dragged her into that tower - sir Criston Cole. But there was an unreadable expression on Aemond’s face while he was fastening his sword; where was he headed to?;Y/N began to wonder.

“Lysa, queen Alicent is scheming something” she quietly mumbled “Go find out what’s going on; I’ll talk to the prince”

“B-but my lady, h-how am I supposed to-..”

“Do not be scared Lysa, remember what I said? As long as you’re loyal to me, you will be safe, no one will harm you” Y/N smiled slyly, placing her hand on the younger girl’s shoulder.

-

The cold crisp air pierced through Y/N’s thin silk dress as she walked through the courtyard, arms wrapped around her own shivering frame, the promise of rain still apparent in the sight of the thick blanket of dark clouds.

“Jāre mirri dīnagon? jorrāelagon valzȳrys naejot sagon”

(going somewhere? dear husband to be) the princess mocked as she approached the one eyed prince, trying not to show her tremble at the freezing weather.

Aemond swiftly turned towards her, motioning to sir Criston to depart. “Se skoros lo iksan? jorrāelagon ābrazȳrys naejot sagon” (and what if i am? dear wife to be) his eye widened like a beast, staring at its prey

“I have no time for games, your grace” the girl hissed unamused “What is it you are scheming?”

“And why should I discuss such matters with you, my lady?” He laughed, shortening the distance between them, Y/N could almost feel his warm breath on her frosted skin.

“You are well aware of what my intentions were in agreeing to this union” she muttered “I only came here to change the fate of my house, of our house. How am I to prevent this impending doom if I know nothing of your intentions?”

The prince scoffed at her words and began heading towards sir Criston “Geros ilas, jorrāelagon ābrazȳrys naejot sagon” (farewell, dear wife to be) he smirked.

Oh how Y/N wanted to smack that signature smirk off his face, like she had, the first day they met, but she knew better than to keep testing her luck alas her task proved more difficult than she had anticipated. The girl was about to follow after him but a familiar high pitched voice stopped her.

“My lady, my lady I-I heard-” Lysa tried to catch her breath.

“Lysa? Okay, here, here, calm down child” Y/N held the young maid’s arms, helping her keep her balance “Now, tell me, what did you hear”

“I-I t-they a-almost caught me, b-but I heard the queen Alicent talking to his grace, the king” her voice trembled

“The queen has bestowed prince Aemond with the task of going to Storm’s End and bringing forth allies”

Y/N’s face went pale, her eyes filled with dread “S-storm’s End?!” she knew what was to come, of course she knew, perhaps the very event responsible for the gruesome war “N-no I must stop this! Where is The Hand? Where is Otto?”

“I-I don’t know, my lady, h-he left The Keep shortly after your departure”

“Queen Alicent! I must go to her” the princess’s violet eyes widened as she ran towards the castle, leaving Lysa without a word of explanation.

-

“Your grace, I must speak to you” the princess yelled, banging her hands on the door of the queen’s chambers “Please, you must hear me”

“What in the seven hells do you think you’re doing?!” Alicent’s voice trembled with disbelief and dread “Where are the guards?”

“Please, your grace, you must listen to me, you are making a huge mistake” the girl pleaded with desperation “Do not let prince Aemond go to Storm’s End, this will lead to many deaths”

“How do you know of this?” Alicent barked “Which snake did sneak into these walls?”

“I’m trying to help, I’m trying to prevent this war” Y/N cried

“The war is already here” she hissed “You may have fooled my father, but you won’t control me nor my sons. Know your place, you may marry Aemond but dare you bring any harm to him, I swear on my life, you will pay dearly”

Y/N sank to the floor as the door was shut before her, no she couldn’t give up so easily.

-

Running towards the stables, mounting one of the steeds, she galloped towards the dragon pit in hopes of finding her betrothed still there.

And there he was, his tall frame, visible from afar, long silver locks of hair swaying in the wind, in a way he looked majestic.

“Keligon, gaomagon daor jikagon!” (stop, do not go) Y/N yelled, catching him by surprise “Please, you will make a huge mistake!”

“Who brought you here?!” Aemond exhaled “How dare you follow me?”

“I came here to warn you, please, just this once, listen to me”

“As much as I enjoy hearing you plead, dear bride, this matters do not concern you” he muttered, heading towards Vhagar.

“No! You can’t!” she yelled, charging towards the prince, tackling him to the ground “I did not sacrifice everything I had for your conceited, vengeful self to bring doom to the future of house Targaryen”

The sudden action had left Aemond stunned for a mere second but then he quickly twisted their bodies around, pinning her underneath him.

“Sir Criston, bring lady Y/N back to The Keep, she is in need of some rest” he smirked deviously, letting one of his hands caress her cheek.

Before she could protest, the knight was escorting her to the horses and Aemond had already mounted Vhagar.

-

She had failed, was this the end? Tears rolled down her face, was it all for nothing? It couldn’t have been, she couldn’t just give up, but what was she supposed to do if no one would listen to her warnings. Then Otto’s words from earlier rang through her head ‘be a good wife, bear his heirs and earn his trust’ that was it, she knew what she needed to do.

She was going to make Aemond Targaryen fall so deeply in love with her that he could never refuse her pleas again.

Tag list: @ellathefriendlyalpacaaa @rosaryos @libdarkheart @thenovelcarnival

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[lilyrachelcassidy]

Hello dear- I love the idea of spooktober 🎃🎃 but I can't for the life of me think of a written prompt so I shall send you a gif instead:

I hope you have fun with it

xx Val

A/N: Thank you Val so much for sending in the request. I love the GIF and as soon as I saw it, I instantly knew what to do with it. Wishing you a happy happy Halloween today, have fun (also with reading hehe)!

Summery: reviving Thomas Shelby back to life (quite literally). 

WC: 1.3k

Warnings: supernatural themes (dark magic)

xoxoxoxoxo

Somewhere in a distinct part of the house, the sound of motion and animation had been made, setting your nerves even more ablaze. Must have been Polly, or Arthur, you weren't sure. Jitteriness and dismay accompanied you the whole time. Today, on this very day, everything was supposed to change; change back to how things had been in the past.

The sudden knock came on your bedroom door, causing you to jump lightly at the abrupt sound. You looked over in the direction, contemplating your decision, and perhaps the entire sense of existence, until you concluded there was no way out of the situation no more. The verdicts had befallen like a hapless dice of kismet.

"Come in," you said, utterly contradicting your state of mind. You wanted everyone to be gone, the entire assembly of people downstairs, although you had been the one who had come up with the initiative of commencing such a gathering. You wanted to muster that previously owned courage right now.

"You ready, gal?" Arthur's head peaked through the slim gap of the opened door. He looked at you as if already knowing the answer to his question.

"Ummm... yeah, I think. I just have to put on the cloak and then... yeah, give me two more minutes." While saying so, you made sure to feign a smile, try as might to convince yourself in the utter lie of being prepared for the upcoming.

Something in your expression must have crumpled, however, because Arthur frowned at your weak attempts. "You know, the whole ordeal still can be postponed or canceled, if you don't want-"

"No! I want to! So badly. It's just that..." Subconsciously, your fingers started fidgeting again and you twisted your hands in nervousness, try as might to obscure your emotions.

Arthur was no longer leaning on the door frame but decided to enter the room after all, and made his way over to the bed, settling himself just next to you. From that distance you could also detect the rapidness of his breaths; he was brittle too, you noted shrewdly.

Somehow feeling that position more obliging to spill the truth, you looked away, rather focusing your gaze on the floor, and rambled on: "I'm sorry. I'm distressed, that's all. I've never... bewitched anyone before. Or played with dark magic. I'm just scared that if something should go wrong, we might be doomed, you know."

The sinewy hand covered your knee in a conciliatory manner. Sometimes you wondered whether you have fallen in love with the right person - it could have been someone of a sensitive nature as yours, preferring to move on with a tranquil lifestyle you would have loved to lead. Instead, there was a man who had killed and terrorized people for his bread and butter as if it had been a social standard. The man who was dead at this point in his life.

But not for long.

"If that makes you happy, there have been only two administered cases of failed dark magic in history."

"And what were the consequences of that?"

"Well... they have been overruled by the dark spirits-"

"Oi, Arthur!" You hid your face in your hands, shaking your head. Was that supposed to be fortifying?

"But that's beside the point. It only proves how rare the complications are!”

Glancing over at him, knowingly, you couldn’t help the smile that ensued on your lips at his attempts of appeasement. There were many circulating opinions about Arthur in the vicinity, but the real him was standing just here, in front of you - honorable and amicable.

After that, you merely thanked him for his uplift to which he smiled, and then still making sure that you were sure of your resolutions and still standing on your ground, he excused himself from the room, letting you change back into the appropriate garments for the occasion.

Briskly, you grabbed the ink black cloak which had been loosely handing the chair, then quickly pulled it through your head, and eyed yourself critically in the mirror.

‘Tasteful, at least,’ you thought to yourself, just before fetching the last item to complete the outfit - the macabre mask which, apparently - as Polly has instructed you - was a necessity during the ritual. In mere seconds, dashing down the stairs, you were standing in front of the living room and entering it with the impetus. As quickly as the door swung ajar, you beheld an already-encircled, bemasked group of figures, their outlines irradiated by a waning flicker of the candles in, apart from that, dark room. The only one without the mask was Polly, who sent you a light, motherly smile before extending her hand and mutely asking you to join the group. With the final exhale, so you did: you seized the palms of people beside you - one of Polly, the second one, callous, of the unknown owner.

The enchantments and whisperings commenced and, with intertwined fingers, you closed your eyes and joined. The few, first seconds abounded in nothingness, incoherent murmurs merely filling up the room; but that was only for one minute until the scenery started to evolve rapidly. The previous murmurs were no longer quiet but now changed almost into shouts in your ears as if somebody had been just beside you, screaming; the tension in the room was almost palpable and could be almost literally cut with a bayonet, so thick and unbearably suffocating it was; the waining flicker of candles transformed into blinding whiteness and even with your eyelids closed, you could perceive its intensity.

Still deciding to risk it all, you opened your eyes in the little slits, and as you had assumed previously, not much could have been seen. In the wholistic blur, one particular thing that caught your attention was a sumptuous, long-necked vase in the middle of the circle you could have sworn hadn't been there. The thick, muddy substance was oozing out of it, soon excluding all over the floor, and to your surprise, forming a human-like shape.

First starting from the feet, it gradually evolved to the full human figure, and you, caught totally off guard, stared at the whole phenomena, not daring to glance away nor effuse any kind of sound. No one besides you seemed to be affected by the occurrence because the chants sustained and even picked up on the pace.

But then suddenly something happened, something you very not even sure how to describe - the mud-person (or so you liked to call that) converted into a more human-resembling form; the lineaments slowly started carving, the body shape becoming more and more pronounced, and the murky texture changed into a sallow skin.

Unwittingly, you emitted a gasp - no longer was a mud mass standing in front of you, but Thomas fucking Shelby himself. His eyes were closed, his mouth pursed, and he was standing in the middle of the circle in the nudest form. As if feeling the intensity of your stare on him, his eyelids flew open, revealing the bloodshot whites juxtaposing with the blackness of his orbs.

You found yourself startled at his grisly appearance; he still looked like Thomas Shelby, handsome in the way, but also as if owned by some dark spirits at the same time.

Tommy ogled you, never tearing his gaze away to other participants of the ritual; he appeared positively possessive, wild even, and for a moment you got scared he might throw himself at you. But none of that happened, and instead, he grinned, menacingly, like a madman to their victim. When he spoke up, his voice was hoarse and deemed amused:

“Missed me much?”

xoxoxoxox

A/N: okay, so the thing I should have mentioned in the first a/n was that I started reading too much E.A.Poe and that... reflects my writing rn I think (especially the ‘the premature burial’ like...). So here, let’s put it truthfully, we get in touch with a tad necromancy-like theme which I hope works perfectly for setting a Halloween-ish atmosphere. Yet I hoped you enjoyed Val! and the happy happy start of November!<3

[chanluster]

10/10 | {m} ; {c} ; {f}

oneshot | friends with benefits! au | 18.7k words

“Because what you feel for your best friend cannot be described in words, but in numbers.”

s u m m a r y > > you and bang chan had no secrets between one other. each detail of your life would be discussed with your best friend of forever, no matter how insignificant it may be, through a little system you both had concocted — through a small rating. a number out of ten. a simple concept, used from being a child and rating your cookie a solid eight out of ten to your later years in high school, giving your first kiss a measly five. however, when you confess an average rating of your sex life in one hazy evening, chan decides this dilemma cannot be solved with buying you consolation cookies. he must simply raise that rating, all by himself.

w a r n i n g s > > friends to lovers! au, college! au, music! major chan, music! major reader, you both are literally soulmates, came out the womb holding hands, so much teasing, sexual! tension! chan has a massive fucking cock (i mean isn’t it obvious already), shit loads of making out, aggression, fingering, oral (f. and m. receiving), unprotected sex (stay safe homies!!!), kinda hate sex, orgasming left and right, ex! hyunjin, who’s also really bad at sex lmfaoaoao sorry king, chan is hella soft dom at the start but goes !!! hella hard later!!!! (i mean idk but) shit ton of fluff, friend! jisung which chan gets soooo jealous of, reader is so fucking annoyin, teensy weensy bit of angst, and yeh basically me venting out my love for chan once again

p l a y l i s t > > here!

a u t h o r ’ s n o t e > > this is dedicated to my dear friend chloe, boo i love u so much and thank you for that insane prompt :( also help this feels so rushed to me at the end but i hope y’all do enjoy <3

t a g l i s t > > @hanflix @thatonepieceofpineapple @kimkailover @decembermoonskz @smilesohwas @missskzbiased @illicit-roses @embroideredstarz @freckledquokka @moonluvbunny @aliceu @coupscarat @maedesculpaeusoubi @baby-wolf @multi-fandom-kpop-stan​ @minaamhh @leescrt

back to masterlist

“I’M SORRY, BUT I DON’T THINK I CAN DO THIS ANYMORE.”

Hyunjin’s face faltered completely at your words. It was expected, really. The poor boy was not anticipating this news.

“Wh-what?” he asked, a little too loudly, catching the stares of a few others in the coffee shop. You immediately glared at him, and he retracted back into his seat, but still had a befuddled expression on his face. 

You sighed a little. “Look,” you started, swirling your latte with a thin, wooden stirrer. “I’m going to be completely honest with you. I just think we’re much better off as friends.”

“Friends?” the boy flinched at the term, and even you had to hide your self-distaste. God, ____, at least try to be a little nicer! “Damn it, we’ve been dating for nearly three months, and you think we’d automatically become friends?!” he leaned in, knitting his eyebrows in growing desperation. “What the hell happened?”

You fought hard to not scratch the back of your neck. And possibly run away from the shop. Taking a long sip, you tried to feign the most sympathetic expression you could muster. “Hyunjin, please…”

“B-but, babe—” he started, and his eyes widened, trying to grab onto your hands which cupped the latte. “I don’t understand, we were so happy!” He huffed a smile, trying to convince you of your oh-so heavenly times spent with him. “Why are you thinking like this?”

You tried not to retract your hand from his — not only because it was hard to console him, but because they were embarrassingly sweaty. “Don’t think I have just done this on a whim. I have thought long about this decision.”

Finally, something out of your mouth which wasn’t a blatant lie. You had been thinking of breaking up with this goon — had the notion in your mind for half the time you dated him.

“____,” he said, and the melancholy you heard in his voice had you silencing your tongue. “What’s happened?” He began to caress your hand with his fingers. “Have I...have I done something wrong?”

Oh no. There it was. The reaction you dreaded.

Well, kind of. But still. Not the reaction you imagined in the perfect situation. 

Reluctantly, you put a hand over his fingers, hoping that your face was a painting of sympathy. 

“Hyunjin.”

Don’t say it, girl! Don’t you dare!

“It’s...it’s not you.”

You put your hand on your heart. 

“It’s me.”

Oh, Jesus.

Your eyes raised to his own, wide and glistening. 

Now, you knew Hwang Hyunjin was not the brightest kid on campus. The boy, who once asked you what the purpose of a spork was, may not have possessed the most intelligence, but you were scared that he may be smart enough to figure out that what you just said was complete, utter bullshit. 

Face it, ____. You’re done for.

A few tears spilled from his eyes, and a pang of guilt shot through you. “I-I see.” 

He did not let go of your hands. “We can still be...friends, right?” he sniffled, blinking at you rather irritatingly. “Like, we can still hang out together?”

You raised a brow, but reigned in a sarcastic reply. The boy would probably not even understand. “Of course,” you replied, a saccharine smile on your face. “But I think it’s best if we had some space from each other, okay?”

That was not the answer he seemed to be looking for, but he nodded, a little sadly. “Okay.” He still refused to take his hand away. “Does that mean I can’t rock up at yours midnight anymore if the junior needs a little taking care of?” 

Your brows could not help furrow in absolute exasperation. “Yes, Hyunjin,” you monotoned, unable to believe that you put up with this man for three months. “Now can you let go of my hand?” 

Realising his clammy hold on you, he flushed, looking away from your directory gaze. “I...should go, then.”

“No, no,” you insisted, getting up from your seat as you grabbed onto your drink. “I shall leave. I’m the one who dumped this news on you.” 

You debated leaving without paying for the latte — you knew the boy was still infatuated enough to cover your expenses. Sadly, shame coursed through your veins, and you cursed yourself for feeling a little sympathy for your now ex. “Here,” you offered, fishing out a little cash from your jacket. “For the drink.”

When you nearly stepped past him, you stopped, looking down at him as he tilted his head upwards. Your hand itched to put upon his shoulder, but you knew better. Hyunjin would only take that as a hopeful sign.

“I’m sorry,” was the last thing you said before you left the coffee shop.

Upon falling into a leisurely step onto the street, you let out a harsh breath, an endless amount of relief washing over you.

You were almost delighted to let Hwang Hyunjin go.

Now, it was not like he was a monster who had caged you into his two-feet-squared, dingy flat. In fact, the boy was, in almost every way, a decent boyfriend, whose stupid personality earned him a few laughs. 

Although extremely corny, the problem was not truly all him.

It was partly you as well.

Hearing your phone vibrate, you brought it out from your jeans pocket, already having an inkling on who the sender was, spamming you with messages.

CHRIS THE PISS :

bitch have you done it?

CHRIS THE PISS :

helloooooo??

CHRIS THE PISS :

hoe answer the phone i’m dying!! 

CHRIS THE PISS :

or prolly hyunjin at this moment lmaooo

You could not help the eyeroll which escaped from his words, and you decided to ignore him until you arrived at your destination. 

Which, evident from the persistent vibrations still, you figured you could not do.

CHRIS THE PISS :

i KNOW ur reading my messages DAMN just tell me!!

CHRIS THE PISS :

unless this is hyunjin and u killed her FUCK

CHRIS THE PISS :

haha dude whats poppin!! best man for ____ by far don't know why she was breaking up w u 

YOU :

chan i will kill u :)

CHRIS THE PISS :

hyunjin i promise i didn't mean it when i said u looked like a cheese string w ur new hair

CHRIS THE PISS :

that was ur girl putting words in my mouth 

YOU:

omfg chan STFUUU i’m coming

CHRIS THE PISS :

PLS HYUNJIN I SWEAR UR SEXC

Letting the man panic, you turned a left into student residence, buildings lined down the street, providing accommodation for hundreds of people like you in need of a place to sleep, eat, party, and contemplate the inevitability of death under.

Smiling at a few acquaintances, you entered the designated building, finding yourself with dozens of doors of the same, dead colour. Walking along the hallway, you stopped right at the very last one, bringing out your keys.

With a single twist you unlocked the door, but before you wrapped your hand around the knob the door swung open, catching you completely off guard.

“Funny, Hyunjin, how did you manage to transform into a little bitch so quickly?”

You cursed at the man who welcomed you.

“Damn it, Chan,” you said, hand on your chest. “You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

“Sad it didn’t kill you off, then.”

You heard him splutter into laughter at your sad attempts to pinch his shoulder, glaring daggers into his crescent eyes. The bumbling idiot was Bang Chan, the one man you managed to keep for your entire life. That too is purely because none of you could manage a stable, healthy relationship — which was a shame, of course, when your best friend, with his fluffy, raven curls, black-oversized hoodie and sweatpants, was admired by so many. You often wondered how you had not fallen at his feet when he smiled at you, but then he’d open his mouth and all would be understood, as your anger would flare up, and rush to hit him as hard as possible. 

He gave you such a smile then, fingers gripping the doorframe. “How is Rapunzel, then? Sent him back to the tower?”

Wrenching his hand off the frame, which nearly had him falling onto the floor, you side-stepped past his stumbling figure, peeling off your jacket. “Rapunzel is never stepping in our lands again.”

After regaining his step, he muttered a cursed endearment your way and sat himself down on the couch, instantly settling his laptop upon his legs. “Oh, God. How badly did you break his heart, ____?”

Smiling, you dumped the jacket on the side table as you entered the living room, settling on the other end of his sofa. Propping your legs upon his, you pondered over the answer, and said, “At least a good seven.”

Chan let out a little whistle. “Oh, he’s definitely causing a shitshow on the groupchat tonight.” A huffed laugh was his answer. “Want Chinese or Indian tonight?”

“Surprise me,” you said as he brought out his phone. He dialled a number, and then you added, “Actually, can we please get Chinese?”

“No, we’re getting Indian.”

You raised a brow. “Didn’t you cry the last time you had their special curry?” 

The man stared at you for a minute before sighing, putting the phone to his ear. “I’d like your least spiciest dish please.”

He groaned as you pushed his legs off the couch, laughing at his pathetic tolerance towards spice. As he carried on with his order, you grabbed the TV remote, surfing through the channels. 

Even after all these years, you still found it endearing how Chan understood the depth of the numbers you tell him. The system between you two had been created during kindergarten, when, on the last day, you both had received such delicious cookies that words could not express the joy you felt when having the first bite. It was a mere joke at first, rating random classmates despicably low in middle school to even more serious situations, when you moaned to your best friend of your mundane kiss, expecting fireworks and butterflies yet were only met with an over-enthusiastic tongue. 

Chan himself used this system  — it was the reason you knew of his distaste towards spicy food, and certain girls he had dated in the past. Even now, when the two of you had started college together, working on the same projects and going to the same parties, this concoction had not been shelved in your memories. Although this may be something which others might deem insignificant, the concept had become a pillar of your friendship with this absolute loser.

The food arrived within the hour, and you both continued your box set as the plastic containers were cracked open, the pungent smell of curries and biryanis filling the room. Chan provided the plates and cutlery while you poured him the sufficient amount, and you rebuked his whining as you added the spicier dishes onto his plate.

“I refuse to let you eat only korma, Crispy,” you scolded. “Prick, careful! Don’t spill it on your laptop!”

“Bitch!” he yelped as a bit of the residue nearly stained his sweats, but was saved by his hands. “Just ruin everything I wear, why don’t you? Now I got curry on my fingers!”

You propped your legs over his again, eyes upon the screen once more, and the action occurring. “Just lick it off?”

“How about you do it for me?” the boy then simpered out, and you nearly tossed your entire dish on his head. 

“Let’s just focus on Tommy and his cocaine problem,” you dismissed him, but returned his impish smile as you elbowed him, nearly causing his food to stain his hoodie.

The two of you seemed to settle down after a bit and watched the show, commenting on the terrible choices the characters were making, and then boasted of how you and him could easily be the better leader from the protagonist. Soon, you had finished your takeout, and after Chan followed, he got up, hurrying into the kitchen situated behind the doorway in the lounge. He then came back, you delighted to find his hands occupied with two tubs of Ben & Jerrys’.

“Gimme, gimme, gimme!” you sang, snatching one of the tubs from him and pulling open the cover, digging straight in. “I didn’t know you brought ice cream!”

“Thought it’d help with the breakup,” he confessed, settling back into the sofa, shuffling closer to you. “But it doesn’t look like you need it.”

“Oh, I can’t believe Hyunjin broke my heart like this!”

Chan shook his head at your melodrama. “You may fool the looney princess, but you’re not fooling me.”

“You know me too well,” you said, which he agreed to with an absent-minded hum, eating his dessert.

There was a short pause, a comfortable silence reigning upon you both for a little before your best friend broke it, gulping down his ice cream.

“____?” 

“No, you’re not having any of mine.”

Chan prodded you lightly with his foot. “No, I don’t mean that. I was just wondering something.”

“Shoot.”

“You’re not...upset, right?” He took a bite of his ice cream. “Like, I know you always complained about him, but breakups can be difficult.”

You looked at him, and saw genuine concern painted on his face — along with a little vanilla stain on the corner of his lips. “You don’t have to pretend to be happy if you’re not, okay?” he continued. “Especially with me.”

Your heart melted slightly. “Of course, Chan, don’t worry. I wouldn’t ever lie to you.” 

Turning to the TV screen, you sighed as you thought of your recent relationship. “There were good moments for sure. He was still a sweet guy, you know?” You then stabbed the creamy plains inside the tub. “It was just so...dull.”

The man beside you took in another bite, if a bit slow. “What do you mean?”

Following him, you relished the chocolate goodness, swallowing. “Dates were kind of boring. I carried most of the conversations because he’s too thick to talk about anything.”

Chan let out a soft snort. “I remember you telling me about it. I can certainly believe it.”

“Well, you won’t believe what I’m about to tell you next.” You focused on your ice cream, a sarcastic smile plastered upon your face. “Hyunjin. Hwang Hyunjin was terrible at sex.”

You did not need to see your best friend to sense his shock. “What?”

A small chuckle escaped you. “First time he fucked me, I think I cried. Not because it was so good, no, but because it was so bad.”

“No way,” Chan said, brows furrowed. “Didn’t you say he had a big dick or something?”

“That’s the downside, bud,” you countered, halfway through your tub. “Because he had a massive cock he thought that was enough for me to enjoy. But it’s not. He just did not know what to do with it!” 

The man had been silenced. He took another bite of his ice cream, in disbelief. “So you were...deprived of pleasure?”

“Deprived?” You scoffed. “Chan, I thirsted for a crumb of pleasure. God, can you believe I’ve faked nearly all my orgasms with him?”

This time, your friend glanced at you in horror. Carrying on, you said, “The only real orgasm I had was not even because of him. God, I was thinking about Lee Donghyuck singing between my legs.”

A soft growl entered your ears. “Oh Christ.”

“Bastard was so proud when I came all over him,” you crowed, trying to sweeten your bitterness with the dessert. “If only I told him I undid myself for an idol I’m never going to meet.”

Your friend did not say anything. The episode finished, and when you noticed his further silence, you used it to your advantage, starting a romantic comedy before he could even complain.

Even with the movie on for about twenty minutes, and the romance you thoroughly enjoyed, the man stayed quiet, idly stirring his melted ice cream in the tub. You ignored his rather odd behaviour, assuming he was either thinking of his assignment or had gotten a brain freeze. Either way, it let you watch your movie in peace, swooning outwardly at the man’s teasing to the girl.

One hour in, and you asked if Chan was okay. “Yeah...yeah, I’m good,” was his answer, sending you a second-long smile before going back to his brain freeze. You raised a confused brow, but went back to the chick flick, gasping when the boy went back for his love.

This was it. The fireworks, the passion which exuded from the mere actions of lips enveloping lips, hands holding onto waists or necks or locks and refusing to let go. You craved for your heart to drop down in lust as you let yourself fall, be wrapped up in another as you undid yourself. Where was this? Where was this for you?

Did you not deserve your desires to be fulfilled? Did you not deserve to have your entire world turned upside down in pure exhilaration?

Before you knew it, the credits rolled, and you let out a long, laboured sigh, leaning into the cushions. “Maybe it’s time I find myself a millionaire who’d pay me to have sex with me.”

The man was still looking at the now black screen. “Do you mean a prostitute?”

“Well, yes, but—” you groaned. “You know what? Maybe I’m meant to stay forever displeased.”

It was after a long time your best friend spoke. “Or…” he cleared his throat. “You find yourself someone who would pleasure you.”

You turned to him. “Wowie, thank you for a perfect solution! I really wouldn’t know what I’d do without you.”

Then, you saw his eyes darken. “____.” He propped the tub upon the coffee table. “Why search for other alternatives when you have options right here?”

Confusion marred your mind, not just from his words, but his entire change of character. “Chan, what are you on about?”

“____,” he said, and his hand inched closer to yours. “ I’m saying you should have a friends with benefits.”

The silence was suddenly heard. You did not realise the sheer weight of this man’s gaze till his very stare gravitated you to him. The lights were dimmed, and all you could see from the laptop’s light was his face — his beautiful face. 

What was all this? Why was your best friend looking at you like that? Why were you being affected by his gaze?

“I…” You could barely get the words out. “I never thought about that before.”

Chan had no such problem. “Well, maybe you should. There are many who would gladly be that person for you.”

You gave him a look. “And who would they be?”

A slight cock of his head. “____, who is your best friend, in the same class as you, share the same interests and would help you out in any way whatsoever?”

The question rather befuddled you. Why couldn’t the man just say the answer already? You thought of the few viable options, tossing, turning the names. 

Then it occurred to you. Your friend’s face sparked a little in what could only have been hope.

“I know!” you exclaimed, holding onto his arm. “I should ask Jisung!”

The little sliver of hope in his eyes morphed into annoyance. “What the fuck?”

Raising your brow, you asked, “Is that not the right answer?” You listed out the evidence. “He’s basically my best friend, is in music with us, we like similar things and would be willing to help me in any situation. I think.”

When you were done, you found yourself more confused when Chan closed his eyes, shaking his head. “What?” you demanded.

“Oh my God.”

His fingers caressed yours, and you gasped to find your skin prickling at the touch. You raised your eyes to his, and found yourself lost for words.

“You dumb bitch, I should be your friends-with-benefits.”

Your mouth dropped.

Perhaps you would have said something, but then his thumb began stroking your skin, and you figured it was better to relish that instead. Thus, you looked at him, gobsmacked, not entirely sure what to say to his declaration. 

It seemed Chan was a little nervous too. “Look, I can tell you’re surprised…” he paused, a little lost for words as well. “Fuck, I guess I shouldn’t have suggested so early into the breakup, but you just…”

He pinned you with his gaze. “I couldn’t have my best friend miss out on the pleasure she deserves. And if that means giving you the pleasure myself, then I will do it.”

Bang Chan. Not just the best friend you’ve ever had, but the man who proposed benefits to this certain friendship.

“Well,” you got out, after what seemed like eternity. “Well damn.”

“We don’t have to do anything right now. Or even anytime soon.” He let go off your hands, and you did not know why the touch was missed so greatly. “Just...think about it for me, will you?”

You didn’t really have it in you to refuse. “Of course,” you said, feeling the need to touch something. Your eyes fell upon the remote, and figured you should distract yourself by watching the next episode of the series you previously watched. 

You needed a clear distraction, or else Chan would not need to wait long for his answer.

The episode began, and you watched, clamping your lips together as you felt the man shuffle closer to you, one hand sprawled on the top of the couch with his other hand idly surfing on his laptop. You rooted your eyes to the screen, finding yourself engulfed in 1920s England, trying to forget that your best friend left no space between you two.

Managing to somehow distract yourself from the lack of distance, you even began to relax, swooning softly of the gangster’s mannerisms towards his love interests, their intimate dancing in her bedroom. It was touching, and you even let yourself lean into your friend, who, too, glanced every now and then, a little smile upon his face.

Everything was fine and dandy until the characters started to kiss.

Now, there was nothing wrong with kissing. You were a hopeless romantic, and adored to see the actions of love on screen, the final breaking of barriers between two characters.

The problem was, the kissing did not seem to end there. The bigger problem was that this lust on screen made you all the more aware of your best friend beside you.

You froze, watching with no small amount of confused shock as the characters increased their desires, unbuttoning their clothes, discarding them as their lips moved against each other’s. Your eyes widened at the nudity, once never a bother but suddenly extremely embarrassing, as they collided, bare chest to bare chest.

The matters did not help at all when you sensed the increased beating of Chan’s heart, almost as loud as the instruments harmonising in the background. His searching on his laptop had ceased, as frozen as you were as his eyes refused to look away to the man and woman making love.  

It was too much. You had seen much worse scenes in your life before, but never had one made you so hot and bothered. Of course you knew why, though. Of course you knew, when the man you laid your head upon was breathing harder than you do when you walk up a flight of stairs. 

You did not waste a minute longer as you pointed the remote to the TV, and switched the screen off. Completely black, void of further lust radiating through the glass. 

A shuddered breath escaped Chan. “Well...double damn.”

You did not answer back. Only distanced yourself on the sofa, his fingers on the couch brushing against the back of your head. His touch may have been the last thing you needed then.

But that was not true. Seeing that sex scene, all glorified and affectionate, had you craving his touch. Your eyes could not bear to meet him, but his presence was suffocating enough. God, if you did not leave that couch now, you would dare to do something quite unimaginable.

Chan did not seem to move either. Your presence, too, had him nearly choking out a pained sob. Anymore time spent, and he would have another problem erecting soon.

At last, when a few minutes seemed like hours, you felt your friend stir. You were surprised to be devastated at the prospect of him leaving.

You were further shocked when, as Chan mustered all the strength in himself to get off the couch, he was stopped by your hand encircling his wrist. 

Whirling his head at your direction, his eyes widened. He was met with your own aghast ones, as your hand tugged him back to the couch.

You did not let go of his wrist as you whispered the words you never thought would have left your mouth that night.

“Let’s do it, Chan.”

His hand went limp in your hold.

For a second you thought he died under your grasp, but the way he parted his mouth went against your judgement. Perhaps you had sent his living soul flying out of his body, but you could not blame him — you did not feel at all like yourself just then.

“I wanna do it,” you murmured, refusing to let go. 

Chan’s eyes darted to the tight hold upon his wrist, and then to you once more. He opened his mouth, closing it straight after as he glanced away.

With a heavy sigh, he looked to you once more, an abundance of emotions swirling in his usually mischievous, soft eyes.

“Are you sure, ____?” He leaned a little closer, causing your heart to malfunction for a second. “You don’t have to think about it now—”

“Well, it’s all I can think about,” you cut him off, eyes never leaving him, despite the reddening of your cheeks. “And I want to do it.

“Like I said, Chan.” You shuffled a little closer, and your knees brushed against his. “I am deprived of pleasure.”

The man blinked once, twice, taking your declaration all in. He had to tell himself that this was not a dream, but a very much a fortunate reality, and that you were asking him of something he had been wanting to give you for a very long time.

There it was. Something he wasn’t quite ready to admit. You wanting your desires met by him was so much more than enough.

Dreaming still, he slithered one hand around your waist, almost like second nature as the other found refuge upon your face. His fingers were tender, softly caressing your cheeks as his eyes beheld you in a way he had never before..

This change of sight had you unable to look away from him.

“If you feel uncomfortable with all this…” he swept away a stray curl. “I will stop. That’ll be the end of it.”

You nodded, finding solace within his eyes. “I know.”

But there was no discomfort. Rather an impatient welcome, a growing urge for your needs met. Promises fulfilled. 

When you sensed him lean closer, so shy and yet so determined, hands still holding you, those vows were sure to be carried out.

You found out in the best way possible — the second when Chan brushed his lips against yours. 

His touch had you flying out your skin; well, not really, but it sure felt as such, when his mouth moulded with yours, a confirmation that he was strangely perfect for your own two lips, that he was meant to embed himself upon your mouth. 

You closed your eyes, heart climbing up your chest as your hands skimmed around his neck. Chan began his movements, and you were so unaccustomed to the actions that you could not help but be led by his kiss. The man had a way of making you listen to his every order, vocalised or not. 

The kiss was so...unreal. It was all that rang in your mind, over and over as the man took his time; he carried out a sensual rhythm upon your lips, not only to avoid overwhelming you, but to fully take in his situation — that he was kissing you, and no other girl who he had never dreamed of. 

He had all the time in the world for this.

The hand upon your waist gripped onto you a little harder, nails skirting around the hem of your shirt. His tongue teased you now, running along for entrance, to delve inside and drink in your every essence. Your mouth practically begged the man to prowl inside, opening up to him completely, a signal of full trust. 

You wanted this as much as he did. 

His elated rush was expressed through his tongue, when it slithered inside your mouth. Butterflies erupted in your body at the way he swirled it along with yours, almost playing with your tongue as if you both did. Of course, this is slightly different, because your gimmicks with Chan never had you salivating at the mouth. Nor feeling like you’re about to leak into your clothes from his touches.

Which really was the situation you ended up in; Chan, his hand now skimming under your shirt, revelling the skin of your abdomen, warming beneath his touch. The hand, once upon your face, had latched upon your locks, while you ran your fingers through his own velvety hair, nearly undoing yourself over the soft feel. 

Just when you thought he was going in for more, he broke away, hands still upon you — your breathing was ragged, the man in front of you panting slightly as well. His eyes, with no small amount of surprise, seemed a little feverish, whether that be from a random cold he contracted during the minutes he kissed you, or…

Or, as you found yourself biting your lip, he took an intoxicated toll over you, and how exquisite it was to drive his tongue in your mouth.

“Better than Rapunzel?” He whispered, so close his breath fanned your lips, spit-slick thanks to him. 

You made sure he was aware of your fingers threading in his locks, eliciting a low murmur. “Rapunzel better not leave the tower again.”

Chuckling, he wasted no time before he was upon you again, an invisible leash on him threatening to snap. He drove the shirt higher, skirting up your sides until he broke away from you for a mere second before peeling the shirt off of you and tossing it beside him.

Heaving, the sight of you in a bra was making the leash all the more tight, hands never leaving your sides as he latched onto your neck. Leaving open-mouthed kisses, down and down until his lips trailed past your collarbone, you let the moans leave your mouth, heightened and quick and unexpected. Suddenly he descended on you, kneeeling on the floor with hands following suit. 

Pleasure. You were oozing with pleasure as you hurried for the hems of his black hoodie, needing to have it off and run your hands on the expanse of his chest. Chan, a little preoccupied, did not realise your demands until you whined out your request.

“Chan—!” you gasped out as his lips left your belly, fingers upon the buttons of your trousers. “Hoodie, I need it off!”

The man only continued with his task, taking the zip down. “Up,” he rushed out, gesturing with his hand.

Dazed, you replied with a confused murmur, only understanding the need to take his stupid hoodie off.

He looked up from his endeavours, and the sight of him hovering between your legs nearly undid you. “I mean your hips, baby, put them up.” He grabbed onto the sides of your jeans. “I wanna take this off.”

Gulping, you raised your hips, giving Chan ease to pull your jeans, all the way down until your legs were bare, save for the soiled underwear which he instantly landed his eyes on. 

His mouth slipped out an uneasy fuck, which was just the right way to have you leaking even further. “Chan, come on,” you hurried, seething at the throbbing. 

His hands pushed you back on the couch, travelling down until they caressed the back of your knees. Pulling you closer from there, he leaned in until he was a few inches away from your moistened cunt, hurting more the longer he made you wait.

It wasn’t his fault, really. He still felt as if he’s living a dream he did not deserve. 

Fingers drumming against the back of your knees, the man blew a little upon your folds, and you let out a strained hiss at the soft breeze. This hypersensitivity was going to be your undoing, but even the smallest of actions brought you such thrill.

“I’m about to spoil you good, ____,” he whispered, and before you could reply, he descended.

The first kitty lick along the surface had you in shock.

Tendrils of pleasure gushed inside you, lurking all over your body as Chan swiped his tongue along the outside of your cunt, teasing, shying away, awaiting your reaction. You answered him with an indecipherable noise, a sound which had never escaped you before.

Maybe because no one had ever played with your cunt like this.

You truly had wasted your time with Hyunjin — this man, tasting your arousal, let out a satisfied hum, and when he dug deeper with his tongue, spreading your legs further, the moans you let escape were, for the first time, absolutely real. No acting, no bullshit.

Just like your best friend promised.

“Chan—!” You stuttered out, when he began circling your clit. “God, just like that!” You encouraged further, hips shaking at the way he made a mess of you. 

In response his hands left your legs, pressing them upon your hips. To your horror he paused his actions, peering up from your legs. 

The slick shining upon his lips could well have made you cum on his face right then and there. “I need you to stay still, baby,” he said, his hands on your hips keeping you in place, as his eyes did the same. “So I can do this properly.

“I don’t want you getting half-assed pleasure, okay?”

His soft demands, his calm explanations brought you in a further state of frenzy. You could not nod faster, chuckling emitting from him as his hands travelled down once more. 

“Good girl.”

And his mouth was upon your cunt again, this time the leash finally snapping as his tongue hardened against the seams. Your moans could have been heard in the hallways, but you didn’t particularly care when Chan, in the midst of his ravenous lapping, introduced the prospect of his fingers, caressing your dripping folds, swiping them over around the edges.

You didn’t know what to do — your hands scrambled to fist the fabric of the couch, laying back against the pillows. The hold grew tighter when your best friend slid his middle finger inside of you.

The journey may have been slow, but that was what made it all the more delightful. Feeling it go deeper and deeper had a particularly loud groan flying out of you, but the rhythm he adopted, pulling it out, but then diving it back again without leaving your cunt, had you delirious. 

A once foreign, unimaginable feeling you never thought you’d experience, was back inside — the heavy sensation deep within your gut, like a dull ache which grew more known the harder Chan worked between your legs. The feeling you had only ever experienced when you imagined Donghyuck instead of your ex-boyfriend in this similar situation. 

Fuck, there it is, you thought. The feeling of your incoming orgasm.

And it was not going to go if this man worked harder than the devil tonight.

“Chan—fuck—” you got cut off when he increased the speed of his finger inside of you. “I-I’m close.”

Never ceasing his finger, he looked up at you, hooded eyes welcoming you despite the tenderness on his face. “You’re doing so good, ____. So fucking good for me,” he cooed, melting your heart despite the situation. 

This time, he accompanied his fingering with a second digit, stretching out your walls and working harmoniously together in making you submit to him. Already you felt as if he’d filled you up, and the actions of his digits practically scissoring inside of you had every muscle in your body readying for release.

He dove back in, merciless to your clit, and all this work, everything at once, was so much that when you cried out, your release had to follow through. You couldn’t control yourself as you let your cum escape, staining the couch and the floor — most importantly, how most of it landed in Chan’s mouth. 

Breathing unevenly, and louder than you ever thought possible, you closed your eyes, slumping further into the couch. You sensed an emptiness inside you, and figured Chan had taken out his fingers. Opening your eyes, you saw him close your legs together, propping his head upon your lap, hands supporting his chin. He looked up at you, licking his lips free of your residue.

Oh. My. Fucking. God.

The man smiled at you. “Satisfied?” he asked, fingers caressing your skin. 

Oh, of course you were. Damn it, you were more than satisfied — you were positively elated. If he had managed to make you cum with his fingers and tongue alone, imagine what he could have done with his dick.

You blinked. 

Imagine what he could have done with his dick.

“____?”

Perking up, you looked to the man kneeling before you still, anticipation brimming in his stature. “Please tell me you didn’t fake it.”

Embarrassment engulfed your body at the idea. “Chan, if you really think I faked all of that then I deserve an Oscar.”

Pride washed over his features. “Good.”

You then watched him slowly get up, climbing over you, hands skirting up your figure till he captured your face in his hands and pressed his lips against yours. You had enough strength to kiss him back, but failed to exceed him when he began nibbling upon the swell of your lip, making you revert to stage one of your growing need all over again.

Breaking away, you glanced up at him, holding onto his hoodie. “I want...more.”

The man stilled his actions, hands going limp upon your skin. You had about three seconds of panicking as you tugged on his clothes, whispering, “Wait, Chan, it’s okay if—”

But suddenly, his hands left your face, and the panic increased with you being lifted into the air, his hold under your knees and back as he brought you close to his chest. 

His eyes upon you were a hazard to your well-being. “God, ____, you could really ruin me.”

Your flustered nature was interrupted by Chan rushing to his bedroom, kicking the door open with his feet and pressing quick kisses upon your mouth, your cheeks, all over your face as you giggled out in reaction, arms locked around him.

His room was the same as his attire, black on black on even more black, save for a few gold corners and grey instruments settled in the far end of the space. His bed, however, was vast and comfortable, a place you have slept in many a time when late night recording sessions turned into sleepovers.

Gently, he laid you down on his bed, feeling the cool sting of the night air on your cunt, making you shiver. Your bra was useless in keeping you warm, but when Chan began to take off his hoodie, shirt dragging out along with it, you suddenly began to feel a lot hotter.

Discarding the clothes, you were rewarded with the image of shirtless Chan, slightly disheveled due to his endeavours between your legs. His smile revealed a hint of arrogance as he acknowledged your blatant staring, slowly taking off his sweatpants. 

“Careful, baby, or you’ll cum right there,” he mused, noticing the way your legs shivered in ecstasy. He dumped his clothes along with the others, catching sight of his Calvins barely containing his erection.

You felt the mattress press down as he prowled to you upon the bed, the more chaos erupting in your gut the further he came closer. You could barely contain yourself when he hovered over you, lips mere inches from yours. A powerful force within you halted your very breath — you knew, though, that at this particular moment, your entire soul rested in the hands of this man, looking at you through long lashes. 

He enveloped your lips, grinding his clothed erection against your cunt, drinking in your whines, your silent pleas of replacing it with the real deal. He smirked against your mouth, opening the seams as his one hand grabbed onto yours, leading it to the waistband of your boxers. 

Your fingers fumbled to take peel down the fabric, Chan parting from your lips to take it off entirely. His cock sprang free, and you let out a god-awful, shrill-like noise at the way it stood, red and angry and so very fucking big. 

“Fuck me,” you slipped out in a breath, earning a chuckle from him. 

“I very much plan to,” he had the nerve to reply, you wanting very much to slap his shit-eating grin off of him. Or perhaps kiss it till your breath was lost. 

Embarrassed, you tried to look away, but his fingers gripped your chin, leading your eyes to his. Other hand holding onto your hip, he gently positioned himself between your legs, precum already staining your folds. Breathing stunted, your stare reflected subservience, a request to bury his dick inside you already.

He read your every plea. 

Pressing his forehead against yours, he let out a shuddered breath before beginning the final descent.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Chan slid his cock inside — your mouth parted from the transition, at the tightening sensation as he kept going, burying those inches until your eyes were as wide as saucers, unable to look away from him. You dared not move, fear of snapping more a reality in your head than some far-fetched delusion.

Dragging his stare from your slit to your face, he caressed your cheek, offering you a small smile.

“Don’t be quiet, okay?” he asked, hand on your hip like iron. 

Nodding, it was all the signal he needed.

Just as gradually, he began to slide out, and, with his words in mind, you let yourself be shameless. The rhythm of his hips, the pain-stakingly tempered movement, made you whine profusely, and when the man slithered inside once more, moaning lewdly was your only reaction. It was all your brain could think of, when his cock was the sole deity which mattered in this moment.

His pace began to fasten, though, grunting erratically as his grip on you tightened. Your cunt was taking a toll, your second orgasm of the night a great possibility as you felt it inside you, as tangible as the dick being pushed and pulled out into you. 

“F-faster!” you wailed out, and God bless Chan, for he obliged you completely, increasing his rhythm, practically abusing your slit with the way he fucked into you. Tears pricked the corner of your eyes, and you let them fall, for there was no hiding your emotions with this man.

Your best friend could see right through you anyway. 

Chan’s strength seemed unhuman as he thrusted his cock into you faster and faster, and you knew if he did not stop then you would cum all over for the second time. The very image had you on the edge of your sanity.

When his cock hit your g-spot you really believed yourself hitting seventh heaven of delight. White spots blurred your vision, tears now your beloved companion as they trailed down your cheeks. “I’m c-close, fuck—” you tried to voice, but were cut off when slid out once more, tip never leaving your folds. 

His hair stuck to his forehead, beads of sweat peppered on his face as he crushed you with his lips, relishing your whines. His tongue befriended yours, and the swirling of your muscles with each other had brought a new form of high bubbling within you. 

You moaned his name onto his lips, hands sliding around his neck, pulling you as close as physically possible. This was it. You could not wait any longer. You wanted your undoing, and you wanted it now, in these sheets, within his arms, within his hypnotic presence. 

It was incredibly fortunate that Bang Chan could read you like the back of his hand.  

Parting from your mouth, he kissed a sloppy trail all the way to your ear, lips grazing against the lobe. 

“Go on, then,” he purred, leaving a small kiss to your skin. “Cum for me.”

His words were all you needed before you let yourself go, crying out as release poured from the tight spaces your cunt offered, and onto the sheets below. You wheezed in a few breaths, tired gasps gripping your body.

Chan, within the second, pulled out, just in time for him to let out a pained growl as he came onto his bedsheets. Some of the fluids sullied your legs, but seemed the perfect time as he collapsed right beside you, breathing as heavily as you were. 

You and Chan were the only noise in the room — however, if one could translate emotions into sound, that would be an entirely different matter. 

At least for you. You could barely contain your elation.

An emptiness may be present inside of you, but it was now replaced with a full heart. Fuck, you could not believe you had finally been given pleasure, such unadulterated satisfaction that you wondered whether it truly occurred, or was just another fantasy — this time with Chan’s face plastered rather than your infatuation of the month.

Sensing the said-man move, you turned to your side, smiling to see his stare fixated on you. Shifting closer, he curled a stray lock from your face behind your ear. “How’re you feeling?” he asked gently, hand on your face still.

You laid your head against your arm. “I am so pissed I didn’t break up with Hyunjin sooner.”

Laughing, his fingers trailed downward, sketching onto your collarbone. “You…” he paused, biting his lip with what you saw, surprisingly, as apprehension. “You really liked it?” 

Your eyes darted to the surroundings, smirk spreading across your lips. “I mean, I am an insanely good actress...”

His shock horror had you spluttering into laughter. When he tried to turn his back to you and sulk, you held onto his arm, keeping him in place. “Oh, stop! You know I’m joking, you big oaf.”

Pouting, he wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close. “You better be,” he muttered, earning further giggles from his truly. The laughter was replaced with your yawning, which Chan instantly picked up on. “Hey, ____, you should sleep.” He began stroking your hair. “You’re really tired.”

You tried to object, but your intended groans become more deep yawns, proving his point. He passed his fingers over your eyelids, fluttering them close. “I’m not hearing anything else!”

Stinging out your tongue in what you hoped was at his direction, you grudgingly obliged. “Fine.”

You felt him sigh upon your face. “Goodnight, baby.”

“Goodnight, Hyuck.” 

“Nevermind, I hope you have a terrible sleep.”

With your last round of exhausted laughter, you let yourself fall into oblivion, safe in your best friend’s arms. 

YOU WOKE UP WITH CHAN ALREADY GONE.

It was not such a huge disappointment. The man had warned you before that he had to leave early to meet up with his supervisor. In all honesty, maybe it was good he was not there, next to you in his sheets. 

Your hands gripped those very sheets, raising them right under your chin as you looked up to the ceiling, watching the dried swirls of black paint overlapping each other.

“Oh my God.”

Indeed. Here you were, in your best friend’s bed, basking in his scent, in his world. Of course, you always seemed to smell of him, considering you both never seemed to let go of each other, but last night was different.

Obviously, because Bang Chan had never rocked your shit before. 

Your legs began to tingle at the thought. Even the mere memory had you feeling a mysterious sensation all over your body, reminders of the places Chan had looked, touched, tasted. God, you did not think, did not let yourself think further or you’d be calling that man this second.

You knew you had to get up at some point — you had some recording to do today, and more assignments to hand in. You had tasks, obligations to take care of. Unfortunately, the warmth of your best friend’s bed was much too enticing for you to submit to the requests of reality, and so you let yourself lay there for moments longer, in hope you can recreate the scene in your head once more.

There was no lie about this. Bang Chan knew how to fuck you into another dimension. 

Just when you were about to dream into last night, your phone vibrated harshly against the bedside table. Curious, you stretched out your hand, grabbing the object and checking who so rudely disturbed your shameless manifesting.

CHRIS THE PISS: 

just stopped by the medical room,,, want me to get a wheelchair?

CHRIS THE PISS:

cause im sure asf u can’t walk rn 

You rolled your eyes until it hurt. Stupid prick.

YOU:

i haven’t gotten out of bed actually 

CHRIS THE PISS:

oh damn

CHRIS THE PISS:

i PARALYSED u??

CHRIS THE PISS:

why am i so powerful 

“This asshole,” you muttered. 

YOU:

STFUU COCKY MF

CHRIS THE PISS: 

It’s ok you’ll cute in a wheelchair

YOU:

?!?!?!?!!?!

CHRIS THE PISS:

but tell me 

CHRIS THE PISS:

how good was it

This had you pausing. 

CHRIS THE PISS:

outta ten

Now here was a rating you couldn’t bring yourself to confess.

All you wanted to do was give him a solid ten — the man finally offered you a better view of sex and how it can be appreciated, and the way he guided you through it was more than just adequate.

But the thing was, you and Chan hadn’t ever given each other 10/10s.

A perfect score was a rarity in your dynamic; possibly a rating never revealed before because you and Chan had promised each other never to exaggerate on this system. The only time you had ever used the solid ten was when he made you his first ever song at the tender age of nine. At the time, it was a terrible tune, with beats all over the damn place with no form of rhythm, but because he made it especially for you, you voiced your true opinion and rated him the perfect score.

Again, the situation here was different.

So, instead of the truth, you resorted to irritation. 

YOU:

2/10 :)

You waited for his text.

However, you did not receive it.

Only the shrill ringtone of your phone, snapping you further into consciousness. 

Groaning, you swiped right onto the screen, pressing the speaker button.

“Now I know you’re lying!”

Laughing, you propped the phone beside you on the bed, upon the place where Chan would have been. “You got a big ego there, hun.”

“That may be true, but my cock is bigger, so I still win.”

You were glad he was not here — the man would have sensed your embarrassment in an instant. 

It was worse because he was not lying. “Now tell me, Pinocchio,” he continued, voice interrupting as the noise of the students around him came through the receiver. “Out of ten.”

“I already messaged it to you, buddy,” you said impassively, or at least you tried. “A solid two would suffice.”

God, you could almost feel your nose growing.

Perhaps he felt it too, for he answered, with no small amount of pride, “I’m gonna pretend I fucked you so good you forgot how to think properly.”

You could not help gulping, raising the sheets over you. It wasn’t exactly hard on boning, but even so...you really thought for a second you’d lose all feeling in your legs last night.

“Shut up, Chan.”

“Shut up, Chan,” he parroted, which had you threatening to hang up. “Don’t think I’ve let you go on this subject.”

“Try me, buddy,” you jeered.

“And for Christ’s sake, stop calling me ‘buddy’,” he demanded. “Or else I’m pulling a Hyunjin.”

“A Hyunjin?”

“Yeah, a Hyunjin.” You heard the sound of horns blaring at the end of his call. “Ruining your sex life.”

That nearly made you freak. “Damn, I won’t say it again, Christopher Bang, musical name Bang Chan, nicknamed Chris the Piss—”

You heard his chuckling through the phone. “All that for my dick. I must have changed your life, ____.”

Heating up from his stupid comments, you grabbed the phone from the table. “I’ll see you in the studios, asshole.”

His smugness ran rich in his voice. “Buh-bye, baby.”

The minute the call ended, you sighed heavily, clutching the phone to your chest.

He did change your life.

Not necessarily your entire life, but certainly a huge aspect of it. A small part of you was horrified at how easily he shifted your daily balance, making you ponder over him more often, with much more intensity than before. Were you a sex maniac? Were you so deprived of being touched that one night of fun had you begging like a woman starved?

“Whatever,” you groaned, swinging your legs to the side of the bed, and upon the carpet. “Fuck Chan.”

Hopefully tonight.

FUCKING AROUND WITH CHAN MIGHT HONESTLY BE THE BEST DECISION YOU HAVE EVER MADE IN A LONG, LONG TIME.

And you weren’t the one to make good decisions. You get up an hour before the afternoons, drink Pepsi Max to compensate for your lack of water drinkage, and worst of all, you would gladly sell your body for Colin Firth, especially if he dressed himself up as Mr. Darcy at his age. Whatever setbacks you possessed, you knew that this, at least, was a step in the right direction.

Bang Chan may have been as big a loser as you were, but the man made you feel like a powerful entity. Hell, in all the state, with the way he made you act.

Never before had you become so daring — libraries, which were once your place of study, became a rendezvous for his slender fingers inside your cunt. The living room had become a breeding ground, and even your shower was stained of your promiscuity. There was no place left where you and Chan hadn’t done something scandalous, and you wondered, with no small amount of excitement, on how this new side of your friendship with him would progress. 

These thoughts accompanied you as you walked to your destination. It was not far off as you entered campus, and smiled at the few students who passed by.

Soon, you found yourself in the music department, and walked through the familiar halls, littered with posters of different artists and singers in their peak careers. A few trophies were boasted of behind a glass screen, but the surroundings all became irrelevant when you approached your designated music rooms.

Expecting Chan to be inside, headphones adorned, you did not bother knocking, strolling straight into the room. However, you stopped completely when a giant, hoodie-clothed back did not greet you.

Instead, it was a tinier hoodie-clothed back, faded yellow over the trademark black. Although not your best friend, you instantly recognised the alternative, and smiled.

“Jisung!”

The boy did not seem to hear, for he kept bobbing his head, no doubt trying out beats. 

You tiptoed slpwly until you stood right behind him. Then, in a flash, you snapped your hands upon his shoulders.

“Boo!”

A shrill, terrified yell erupted, chair being swivelled suddenly as the back hit against the controls. You took a step back out of shock too, a choked giggle escaping when you beheld the face of Han Probably-shit-his-pants-Jisung. 

“Oh my fucking God,” he rasped out, hand on his chest. He then locked eyes with you, and suddenly his quivering mouth melted into a smile of relief. “Ah, ____!”

“The one and only.” You sat down on the neighbouring chair. “Sorry if I made you shit your pants. It was fully attended.”

“Stop,” he insisted, taking off his headphones and scooting a little closer to you. “These are new jeans as well.”

“Not my fault if you’re a pussy,” you chanted, picking up the headphones, settling them upon your ears. “Can I listen?”

“Of course!” Jisung pressed a few keys on his laptop, and the music began. 

Your eyes widened in surprise to hear pleasant, almost lo-fi background before his voice flooded in, comforting you with his soft lilt and meaningful lyrics. On instinct your head bobbed along to the rhythm of the beat, smiling at the wordplay and the rising vocals.

“Jisung, this is really good!” you exclaimed. The boy waved off the compliment, but you instantly saw his face reddening. “Oh, stop it, you know that you’re one of the best out here.”

If you thought he couldn’t get more flustered, he proved you incredibly wrong. “Don’t say that,” he shrilled, propping his feet up on the chair and hugging his legs tightly. When he saw the look on your face, though, he smiled, teeth and all. “Thank you, ____. It means a lot coming from you.”

“Oh, I’m no musical genius,” you said, pressing the play button to hear his music. “Just a motherfucker who can appreciate a song of the year when she hears one.”

Jisung nearly passed out from your compliment, but you did not take it much into account as you focused all your attention on the piece. It was an undoubted fact that Han Jisung was an extremely talented dude. You already knew you could never compete with him, but he was certainly up to Chan’s level of musical expertise. With all this talent brimming around you, you made a mental note never to make more gifted friends in the future. 

Once the song ended, you took off the headphones, propping them gently upon the table. “I think you’ve inspired me to do some actual work.” 

The boy was still smiling as he reached his hand out, planting it upon your own on the table. “Well, I’m honoured to be your inspiration.” His eyes reached yours, and you were engulfed with his warmth. “The feeling is more than mutual.”

You offered him a grin, and were about to say something when the door opened.

Turning, you were welcomed by Chan’s dark figure at the studio entrance, holding two cups of coffee. Despite his black attire, you found yourself admiring a little too brazenly the bare face he never exposed in public, the beanie hiding his curls, and the tick in his jaw, which heightened further when he took in the scene.

The actions were quick — the darting of his eyes as they started on you, then travelled to your hand, engulfed with another’s. He raised them to the man guilty of the touch, and found himself staring at Jisung, beaming not only from you anymore, but at the arrival of his friend.

The joy was not returned. 

“Chan!” Jisung greeted, letting go of your hand innocently as he ushered your best friend over. 

He nodded in return, gaze back to you as he walked, a little too slowly, to the two of you. He put the two beverages upon the table next to the keyboards. “I didn’t know you were in as well,” he said. After a pause, he added, “I would have gotten another coffee.”

“Nah, it’s okay,” he assured him, even though it did not look like he needed any reassurances. 

Catching onto Chan’s attitude, you slid your coffee to the boy beside you. “I don’t want any right now. You take it.”

You took note of the pursed lips, and ignored it as Jisung widened his eyes. “No, no, it’s okay—”

“Ji, I insist,” you pestered him, driving the cup within his grasp. “You look so tired.”

He offered you a lovely smile before taking the beverage. “Thank you.”

Chan, watching this little conversation, had him clamping his lips together, possibly to not say something stupid. It was a little habit of his, thankfully in action. He slid the other cup to you. “You can have mine.”

You looked up at him. “I’m good, buddy.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Share.”

You rolled your own, taking a sip of the coffee, and thanked yourself for not being petty enough to refuse him. “Fine.” 

Jisung swivelled his chair so he faced Chan, fingers upon his laptop. “Do you wanna listen to the demo?” He grabbed the headphones, holding it out to him. “I’m nearly done with it.”

“You can send it to me later,” was his curt answer, as he took the cup from you and drank. 

You looked at him in exasperation, but the boy nodded in satisfaction, picking his bag off the floor. “That’s chill!” he said, heaving off the chair. “I got all the time, so don’t worry too much about it.”

He then turned to the two of you as he strolled to the door. “Actually, I’ve been meaning to ask you both something.”

“Spit it out, then,” Chan jeered, which had you glaring at him. What the fuck was his problem?

Jisung did not catch on, continuing. “So, later this week, Changbin and I are throwing a party, and I was hoping you both would like to come.”

You perked up at that piece of information. “That’s something I like to hear!” Snatching the coffee cup from your friend, you purposefully took a huge gulp. “Any specific date?”

“I was hoping Friday night.” A small sip of his drink. “We just wanted to have some fun after a difficult week, dissertations and all.” His gaze never faltered from yours. “You in?”

Chan, noticing, settled in the space previously taken, and raised a hand in objection. “Sorry, Ji. ____ and I always do something Friday night. Gotta uphold the tradition.” 

You turned to face him, a brow raised. He wasn’t wrong, in all honesty. But why did he mention it now?

Jisung, too, was a little curious. “Oh?” He fixed the strap of his bag. “I won’t get in the way, then.”

He turned, and you made to open your mouth only to have Chan press a finger to your lips. His brows were furrowed, which you matched until he left the finger as the boy looked back once more. 

“I’ll see you around, guys!” he exclaimed, eyes sliding to you before opening the door, and leaving the studio.

After a few seconds of silence, you faced your friend, who had the audacity to sigh in relief. “What the fuck was that?”

The man shrugged. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Yes you do!” you finished the last of the coffee, throwing the empty cup in the bin nearby. “Why were you being such a dick to Jisung?”

“No I wasn’t,” he only said. “I was being the perfect gentleman.”

“Stop it, man!” You couldn’t believe his stupidity in the situation. “He was being so lovely, asking for your opinion on his music, inviting us to his party and shit. Why were you being so mean?” 

Chan only shook his head, turning away from you as he made to put his headphones on. You, on the other hand, were not going to be satisfied with silence, and grabbed his arm, wrenching him toward you. “Chan?!”

He turned to look at you, and you hitched in a breath — you had never really pondered over your friend’s angered face, nor really drank in his heightened features before. However, in this moment in time, with his eyes darkened, bare face twisted, frizzy morning curls all over the place, you had to stop yourself from the butterflies fluttering downwards. You’re supposed to be mad, not horny.

Your hand upon his arm — his tensed bicep, specifically — seemed almost feeble now. Still, you were glad it was on there, if only to feel his muscle bulge.

Chan studied you and your dazing, and made you jump when he guttered. “What?”

Instantly getting back to the situation, you cursed yourself silently for letting your desires try to take the reins. “I said,” you continued, trying your hardest not to be fazed by his eyes, “Why are you being such a massive prick to Ji?”

He cocked his head slightly, and if he leaned any further his lips would brush against yours. “I’m being a massive prick, ____, because he really fucking likes you.”

You felt hands upon your waist, tugging you off your seat. With a yelp you found yourself upon the man’s lap, hands encircling you fully.

Even though you looked down at him, his stare had you shaking. “And that really fucking pisses me off.”

You couldn’t suppress a shudder, an action which had not gone unnoticed. A smile ghosting his face, he craned his neck upwards, catching your lips and rendering you completely at his mercy. Your fingers went straight in his morning curls, carding through the locks as he captured your bottom lip in his, sucking on it to the point a whine escaped you, helpless and shameful. 

He left a trail of heated kisses down your throat, fingers skirting underneath your cardigan, your shirt, and savouring the skin. His mouth landed on a particular part, grazing his teeth against it as he softly nipped at the skin. Your breath quivered at each flushed kiss he branded upon you, but when his free hand began undoing the top buttons of your shirt, you finally called out his name.

“Chan!” you gasped out, shivering at the lovebites stinging your throat. It did not seem like the man would stop, unbuttoning your shirt just so he could glimpse the sliver of your lacy bra, humming with satisfaction. “Chan, w-wait!”

He paused his actions, tilting his head upwards in irritation. “Do you mind?” he asked, pouting too cutely for his words.

“Yes, I do,” you answered, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Why are you so mad, buddy?”

A harsh scoff was your reply. “Well, first of all, because you never stop calling me that.” 

You pinched the back of his neck, but when he pursed his lips, you leaned in, pressing your forehead against his. “Chan, you’re overreacting. He’s just a motherfucker trying to gain your approval.”

“I think it’s more your approval,” he countered, nuzzling his head against your shoulder. “With the way the asshole can’t keep his name out of your mouth. God! And the way he held your hand? Like you were his one and only?!”

“Jealousy isn’t a cute look on you, hun,” you mused, but in reality, you were lying through your teeth. His jealousy was like fuel to your turned on fire.

“Permission to punch him in the face?” 

“You might have to put a hold to that.” 

“Fuck.”

Raising his head, his agitation grew in his eyes as you beheld him. “He just...goddammit, he just makes me so angry at times.”

You played with his curls. “How angry?”

He held onto you tighter. “9/10.”

That certainly made you do a double take. 

9/10. A rare rating, you noticed with quite some surprise. It did reflect the fury which Jisung unintentionally ignited, but you did not realise how much it truly affected him. The two had always been friends, as far as you were concerned, but you had to admit that Chan never really felt as easy with him as he did with you.

Of course, because you were his closest friend.

“I know,” he said then, snapping you out of your thoughts. “It’s...unreasonable...but I don’t care. I really don’t give a shit.”

Clamping your lips together, you watched him look away, swaying you back and forth upon his lap. Well, you couldn’t have a dear friend sulking away when you knew Jisung meant nothing and less to you.

Suddenly, a very pleasing idea came to mind. 

“Chan,” you murmured, fingernails grazing against his neck.

 Sensing goosebumps form there, you were met with his undecipherable gaze. “Yeah?”

You brushed a chaste kiss to his forehead. “How about,” you began, trailing down to his nose, “I help…” you carried on, another kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Soothe your irritation?”

Although completely compliant to your touches, he grumbled, “The only way you can do that if you consent to me giving Jisung a broken nose.”

“Hmmm…well...” you peppered another kiss, and felt his hands wander lazily once again. “This is a very close second.”

Catching the implications dwelling in your gaze, you could have sworn the man’s breathing halted. His tongue swept along his teeth, and you had a dire wish to replicate that action with your own tongue.

“Come here, then,” he guttered.

The lower octave had you nearly squealing as you pressed your lips fully onto his, giggling when he responded with twice more ardency, the desperation lurking beneath his physique. He pried your mouth open with his tongue, swirling it along with yours as he pressed your body completely against his, refusing to let you go. 

On instinct you grinded against him, sensing the outline of his boner beneath you with no small amount of excitement. He groaned into your mouth at the friction, digging his fingers into your skin.

It was a dire shame you had to break away from the kiss, catching his disappointment. “Tease,” you heard him mumble, which had you pecking his lips quickly before sliding your own down his neck, leaving his skin altogether.

Slumping downward, you kneeled before Chan as he spread his legs before you, struggling down his black trousers till he revealed the angry outline of his erection underneath his dark boxers. You noticed, with pride, how the top of the fabric was stained with arousal. 

“I think your dick is angrier than you around Jisung right now,” you said, failing to contain your amusement. 

Chan’s eyes promised murder. “I’m so glad my cock will shut your stupid mouth up,” he jeered. 

Thank God you were kneeling, cause that comment alone would have made you fall.

Shuffling closer, you raised your hand to his boxers, feeling his clothed length between your fingers. The touch had your friend growling much too loud, a reaction you enjoyed thoroughly. 

“How about a little less teasing,” he seethed, gripping onto the arms of his chair, “And a little more sucking, baby?” 

Baby. You didn’t know why now, of all times, it struck a deep chord within you. His command had you reaching for the waistband, pulling his boxers down until his cock sprang free. 

The image had you remembering your Lord and Saviour. 

You don’t know why you kept forgetting how insanely big Chan’s cock really was. Its length was inside of you on almost a daily basis, so maybe all this foolery had finally gotten to your head. Observing it now, hard and veiny as it curved against his stomach, the only reaction you could offer was your mouth breaking its seams. 

“Staring at it won’t be enough, ____.”

Gulping, you planted one hand upon his leg, the other wrapping around the shaft. Even the slightest contact had the man hissing, making you smirk at his helplessness. Slightly gurgling, you spat on the head, lubing his member with your fingers, and then you began.

A string of groans escaped him as you commenced, a slow rhythm of pumping his cock as your hand moved up and down. The repetition was constant, neverending as Chan’s grip on his chair threatened to snap the plastic, but you dared not slow down. You knew this was not how he gained his satisfaction — he needed a perfect graduality, a refined art-like stroke or else he’d lose his high. Fortunate for him, though, you never let him down.

You increased your pumping, sensing him containing his moans. You could feel him holding back, but that didn’t stop you at all. In fact, that only had you progressing to the next step, an action that would have him screaming your name.

Shifting even closer, you spread his legs further, Chan’s eyes rooted to you as you directed the tip to your mouth. Letting your tongue free, you swept it along the shaft, and sure enough, an obscenely loud moan emitted from his truly. Chuckling, you carried on, trailing all the way up to the head and ending your journey with an ironically chaste kiss. Staring up at him, you smugly observed his lust-struck face, mouth releasing irregular breaths already. You couldn’t wait to have him curse at you.

Eyes back on the task at hand, you grabbed the base of his cock, opening your mouth. Slowly, aggravatingly slow, you sunk down, taking in inch by inch — Chan pushed his hips forward, and you nearly gagged at the impact of his head hitting the back of your throat. 

“Shi-shit baby,” he sputtered, watching you in awe at your work. “You better tell me if you don’t want your throat fucked.”

You answered him with your progression, slowly releasing his cock from your lips, tongue licking his slit before descending back on him again. You tried to be slow — you didn’t want to go straight to deepthroating, but the way Chan choked out his curses was sweet encouragement. Holding his dick still, you began bobbing your head and down, shallow at first, testing the waters.

When the man instinctively began bucking his hips, pushing his cock into your mouth further, you opened your jaw wider, taking in the remaining inches. The gag reflex kicked in like a bitch, but you refused to cease your labour as you increased your pace. Chan leaned in a little, caressing your cheeks as he rutted against your mouth.

“God, you’re fucking perfect, baby,” he cooed breathlessly. “So good for taking my cock like that.”

Unable to smile, you answered him with your hands, now playing with his balls, slapping them slightly to make him groan out in pleasure, head laid back against the chair. “I’m close, ____,” he warned, never stopping his own thrusts. You hoped he never would, when his end was so near.

Taking all of him in, you pressed your hands on his legs, urging you to look at him. With one final home run, you hollowed in your cheeks, surrounding his entire cock in your mouth as you imprisoned him with your hooded gaze.

The image of you, a beautiful ruination, was his undoing. 

Chan let out a vicious string of curses as he released, ropes of cum spilling inside your mouth. He slumped into the chair, breathing in the entire county’s worth of oxygen as all energy left him. This time, to add to his lust-driven shock, you swallowed his release, thanking your lucky stars that your friend finally listened and ate some fruit. His cum, at last, tasted more than bearable. 

After a few silent moments, the man finally raised himself from the dead, sighing as he beheld you kneeling still. “I think I can’t live without you.”

Chuckling, you heaved yourself up, legs unsteady. “That’s just your inner horny speaking,” you said, nearly falling over on your own feet. Quickly, Chan brought you back onto his lap again, creating an iron grip around you.

“Think what you like,” he began, peppering small kisses on your neck. “But your head game is stronger than my will to punch Jisung, that’s for sure.”

You hummed as he plunged his teeth upon a certain spot, pressing your legs together. “It better be.”

Finding your lips, he lazily kissed you, hands skirting higher as you move your mouth against his, never tired from his touches. 

“Have we christened the studio yet?” The man asked in between kisses, pushing his chair forward till your back hit the table. 

You shook your head no, already sensing his unbearable grin. You could not help returning his enthusiasm.

And as you both continued in your shameless arrangements, there was one thought that lingered in your head. 

There was absolutely no way you were going to that party. 

OF COURSE YOU WERE GOING TO THAT PARTY.

You looked to the building, the whole ground floor alight with different, ever-changing lights, and a dim pandemonium welcoming your ears. Your phone pinged with messages, but you dutifully ignored them, taking a deep breath as you took a step inside.

Greeted with a half-full hallway, it was not hard to find the party house, greeting awkwardly to a few drunk acquaintances before entering Jisung’s dorm. You were instantly hit by the smell of sweat and alcohol as the noise of popular music made your ears ring in discomfort. An abundance of students were cramped as they danced along to the tunes, screaming and laughing and simply enjoying themselves. 

While observing the scene, a small part of you wished your best friend was with you, an arm slung around you as he makes a comment on the specific people dancing rather terribly in the centre. You could already imagine him in his Friday attire, midnight-kissed with gold chains dangling off his belt, rings adorning his fingers and a little makeup to elevate his already exquisite features. Maybe, if you had insisted, he would have let you paint his nails, something which you adored on him. 

Fuck, you thought, searching through the crowd for a place to get a drink. Maybe you shouldn’t have come. 

You shook your head, though, beginning to squeeze through the partygoers. No. You can’t let Chan win in this.

And so you found your way to the kitchen, cans of beer, vodka and tequila stacked in broken pyramids to drink away. Just as you made to grab the Smirnoff your hand brushed against another’s. You turned to the direction, and beamed to see Jisung holding out the can for you.

“____!” he exclaimed, barely heard from the commotion yet could feel his joy radiating from him. “Don’t you have a thing with Chan on Fridays?”

“Well, that can happen every Friday, Ji, but your party was only today,” you answered him, and he was more than satisfied. 

He grabbed the same drink as yours, cracking it open as he looked at you, stare lingering upon your black dress. “I’m really glad you came, love.”

You blinked at the sudden endearment, but before you could say anything Changbin had interrupted the both of you, threatening to bring the roof down with his whining.

“Pleeease Ji, get me away from her!” he begged, holding onto Jisung’s arm and rocking it back and forth. “She keeps tryna drag me into the bedrooms and I can’t do it with her, bro!”

The boy adorned hints of irritancy, but he let himself be led by his friend, glazing at you. “Wait for me,” he requested.

His answer was a little wave, which he returned dutifully as he began to berate his friend for tearing him away from you. Raising your eyebrow, you turned back to the alcohol, finding some soda water and pouring it into the empty cups along with the Smirnoff. You would have drank the vodka straight from the bottle but you decided against drinking your tits off tonight. You didn’t really have a great desire for intoxication. 

You cursed at a few passersby as they bumped against you, nearly knocking the drink off your hands. Fixing your dress, you took the first sip, relishing the strong taste. The songs kept changing, the dancing getting wilder, and at this rate you knew someone was going to get handsy soon. 

Drinking away, you snapped the cup on the table beside you, waiting for Jisung to come back. 

Why did you even come here? 

You instantly soured at the thought.

Still, you could not help pondering further.

You should have stayed home. With him.

You groaned out loud.

It was ridiculous how you were unable to have any idea which didn’t centre around that prick. If he did not want to join you that was on him. 

Then were you feeling miserable?

Great. You poured yourself some more diluted vodka. Now you’re a full-time simp.

That helped you down the drink some more. At least this time, in fortunate circumstances, you were not a lightweight, and so were still completely aware of your surroundings. 

Aware enough to see a more tousled Jisung stagger toward you, giggling like a little child. 

You watched him lunge towards the tequila cans and crack one open, downing half the thing in one go. “Careful, Ji, or you’ll fall to your death!” you warned him, laughing as he exhaled with great exaggeration. 

He staggered to where you were standing, slumping against the wall and taking another can. “I’m so sorry!” he simpered, much too loudly for your sober ears. 

You raised a brow, about to ask him for what but he was already answering your question. “I made you wait so looong!” he dragged, drinking some more. “Look at you! Leaving you all alone.”

“Gee, thanks,” you said dryly, crossing your arms, drink still in hand. “Just say I have zero friends.” 

“Hey, don’t say that!” You were taken aback by Jisung grabbing onto your arm, pulling him to you. He looked you dead in the eyes, wide and alive. “You do not have zero friends!” he declared, louder than before. “I’m your friend.”

Your poor ears hurt like a bitch, but you smiled at his words. “Yes, indeed you are,” you said in earnest. “Thank you, Jisung.”

It was then he blinked slowly, parting his lips as his fingers upon your arm began to wander. “But I wish you didn’t think like that.”

His touch did not go unnoticed at all. You looked at him, raising a brow, but that action went unnoticed. “What do you mean?”

“Come on, you’re a smart girl,” he slurred, voice still soft and innocent as his hand travelled to your shoulder. “You know exactly what I mean.” 

Freezing up, you felt the pads of his fingers caress your face. When he tilted his head, you finally saw what he had been trying to show you since the start of the year, the emotions he was too drunk to hide any longer. 

Lust. Pure lust swirling in his eyes. 

It was like a lightbulb had finally switched on in your grape-sized brain.

“Oh my God!”

Instantly, you pressed your hands to Jisung’s chest, pushing him completely off. He nearly fell flat on his ass, but grabbed the table just in time to stagger back to balance. He glanced upwards, and you saw his eyes widen.

“____?” he got out, but you raised a finger, which he was still intelligent enough to figure out to shut up.

“Ji, what the fuck?” You slapped your drink down on the table, making him jump. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” he exclaimed, taking another can. “But it’s the truth, damn it, and I’m tired of having to pretend all the time about it!”

Fuck, you suddenly thought, realising that you needed to get out of this crammed residence. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Jisung, look—” you started, but he groaned out loud, waving off your answer.

“No, no, I know what you’re gonna say.” He then did a terrible impression of you, simpering, “Oh, Ji, I can’t go out with you because I’m soooo in love with my best friend in the whole wide world!”

You snapped your head to his direction. “What did you just say?”

“You heard me clearly!” He finished off his nth can. “Okay, maybe it isn’t a Romeo and Juliet shit going on, but I know something is going on between you two!”

A laugh huffed out of you, but the boy was not convinced. “We’re just friends. Good friends, that’s all.”

Your answer was a hysterical bout of laughter, confusing you even further. “Come on, ____. I’m stupid, but not completely braindead.”

He took a step closer to you, careful of your hands still. “I know Chan practically adores you.”

This little statement made your shit freeze. “Stop it,” you murmured.

“Why?” he demanded. “Because I’m saying something the both of you refuse to listen to?” 

“It’s none of your business,” you snapped. “Don’t get mad because I don’t wanna go out with you.”

“I’m not mad because of that.” With one last tequila can, he grabbed it, turning on his heel. “I’m mad because the both of you keep lying to yourselves.” 

Before you could counter back, the boy stumbled away from you, hollering to the crowd to leave some space on the dance floor for him. You wondered for a second how he’d handle dancing when he could barely walk properly, but then your thoughts drifted back to the more dire subject at hand.

“Fuck,” you cursed out loud this time. 

There it was. The question you should have addressed ever since you started this arrangement with Chan.

Were you really just friends? 

You knew the question to that yourself. Both you and him had transcended past that point now, and in a horrifying realisation, you didn’t mind it that much. After experiencing his touch, his whispers, you doubt that you could ever see him as a friend again. 

But...to be more?

Fuck indeed. You had a lot to think about tonight.

“But first,” you muttered, “To be out of this stupid party.” 

Quickly, after taking two Smirnoff cans, you squeezed past the million drunkards, making your way to the exit. When you were out of the residence, you breathed in the cool night air, a rarity in these sweaty dorm rooms. 

You had a small hope, as you walked down the lanes, that Chan would be there, right at the entrance as you left, but he was not there. He had a little habit of going wherever you were supposed to be if you were not home at the expected time, worried sick if you had drank or done something more stupid than usual. 

But he was not here today. Maybe going to Jisung’s party made him extremely pissed.

There was a reason he rated it 9/10.

Soon, you were at your building, entering inside and finding your door at the very end of the hallway. Fishing out the keys, you slid them into the lock, careful of the cans, hearing the click! of the unlocking.

Your hand rested upon the doorknob. Eyes staring at the lifeless colour of the door, you closed your eyes, letting out a deep breath.

Stop worrying. Chan is your best friend.

You turned the knob.

Your best friend.

Pushed the door open. Stepped inside.

Right?

“Back so soon?” 

Your body shivered at the words. Quickly walking inside the living room, you found the back of the sofa greeting you as per usual, with Chan’s head peering on top as he watched the TV. Walking further, you noticed yours and his favourite show playing on the screen.

“Yeah, it was quite boring, but the real question is,” you began, irritation marring your features, “Why are you watching this without me?” 

He didn’t even glance back at you, nor pause the TV. “Oh, I don’t know, ____, maybe because it’s Friday night, and it’s our thing to do this every time? Do tell me if I’m wrong!”

“Shut up, Chan,” you seethed, dumping the Smirnoff on the coffee tables in front of him. “This is the one time I missed this, so stop being such a baby.”

“Oh, so you tell me to shut up,” he jeered, snapping the remote on the table, making you jump slightly. “Fine, I’ll shut up. You won’t hear a word from me again.”

You took a glimpse of his face, and caught this cold fury simmering beneath his skin. Oh no. Had you going to Jisung’s party made him this angry? It was beyond nonsensical now. Bang Chan was the most reasonable man you ever befriended.

Taking in the emotions inhabiting on his face, however, proved otherwise.

I know Chan practically adores you.

The memory brought chills all over you again. 

Making your way into the kitchen, you figured to make yourself a midnight snack, hearing the crack! of a can opening behind you. Asshole, you refused to voice out loud, but opened the fridge, taking out leftovers and heating it up in the microwave.

“Anything interesting happened, then?” you heard the dry question travel to you. 

Scoffing, you turned, taking out your food. “Oh, I thought I wasn’t hearing a word from you again.”

Your best friend’s smile was anything but sweet. “Well, I figured if you weren’t going to tell me things, I had to ask you myself.”

That snatched any faux amusement you might have harboured. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“You know what the fuck that means!” he snapped, getting up from the couch, pausing the screen. “I can’t believe you’re not telling me.”

“How about a little less attitude and a little more truth, you prick,” you rebuked, putting the cartons on the kitchen counter. 

“Fine, I’ll tell you the truth that you’re too much of a pussy to say yourself!” He thundered into the kitchen, Smirnoff still in hand. 

You backed up against the counter when he caged you with his glare. “Since when did you start going out with Jisung?”

Instantly your brows furrowed. “Who the fuck told you that?” 

“Shit, I knew that bastard wanted to get in your pants,” he roared. “And you let him use you!”

“Woah, woah, buddy, slow down there!” You raised your hands in objection. “I’m not dating Jisung!”

“What?” He took a gulp of the vodka, confusion mixing with his fury. “You’re not?”

“Of course not, the fuck?! Who told you this?”

“He—” but then the cogs turned in Chan’s head, and suddenly it made sense to him. “Oh, for Christ’s sake!”

“What happened?” you asked, but he was drinking some more, cursing himself for even believing such nonsense. “Chan?”

“That son of a bitch called me before you came,” he started, swirling his drink in the can. “And I don’t know why he did, but he kept telling me to back off from you.”

You let out a low curse, but your friend was not finished. “I told him to get some sleep, cause clearly he wasn’t right in the head, but then...he said some words which literally shut me up.”

Then, you saw him hitch in an uncertain breath. “____, he bragged that he asked you out and...and you said yes.” 

His reaction had you widening your eyes, mouth parting just a little. “And, damn it, I thought that this is why she’s so nice to this little fucker, giving him my coffee, or missing Friday night for his stupid party. Hell, even suggesting him first to be her friends-with-benefits.

“Because maybe she liked Jisung all along.”

You watched in horror as he finished his drink, crumbling the can and throwing it in the bin beside you. A shuddered breath escaped you at the explanation, but you sucked it in once more when you blinked back the sheer intensity of this man’s stare. 

“So...yeah.” He ruffled his hair, breaking the stare as he looked away, face flushing with colour. “That’s why I just...yeah.”

A small part of you melted at his words, and his now embarrassment after expressing his desperate worry for you and your potential relationship.

Still, you had some problems that needed solving. “Chan, then why were you so angry at me?!”

You crossed your arms. “You didn’t even wait to hear what I had to say on the matter.”

“I don’t know, okay?!” he exclaimed, propping his hands to his sides. “I heard Jisung saying all that bullshit, and at the time I was so pissed that…”

“I can’t believe you’d think I’d go out with him, you dumbass!”

“Well, I don’t know, he’s just such a nice guy like you keep saying, and all that flowery poetry for him just went straight into my head!” 

The situation almost seemed comical now. “Oh my God, did you really think I liked him?!

“Of course” he cried out, slapping his hands on the counter top next to you, unable to let you escape. As if you even wanted to. “Of course I thought that or else I wouldn’t be shitting my pants all night!”

“Then you’re the dumbest fucking prick I’ve ever met!” you screamed, as you grabbed hold of his hoodie, pulling him closer to you. “Because I don’t like him!

“I like you!”

“Well, I like you too, you stupid bitch!” 

The confession had you both stopping, preventing the two of you going deaf from your shouting. The whole fight was completely ridiculous, but when you looked at each other, drinking in the words that just left your lips, the realisation finally dawned on you. 

I like you too.

Well, shit. There it was.

The one thing you’d been hiding ever since you decided to fool around with him. 

Maybe this was the last way you wanted to tell him, shouting out your declaration to prove his suspicions wrong. It was almost like something out of an unfunny American sitcom — this weird, comic deflation, but at least it was out in the open now.

You had finally told him of your feelings. 

A pinch of that anger brewing within his features settled a little, hands still fisted on your sides. His eyes darted on every point of your face, as if he’s trying to memorise every inch, every detail etched upon your skin. 

Although his blatant awe made you flustered, the aching inside spoke for you. “Are you going to keep staring all night or just kiss me already?” 

God, you were such a bitch.

Chan seemed to think so too. “Nevermind, I fucking hate you,” he snarled, capturing your lips with his in an instant. You smiled against his mouth as you kissed him back with the same intensity, the same need which spread like wildfire in your body.

Kissing him should have become a routine with the amount of times you did it, but every locking of your lips with his sent you in a frenzy, lust-driven emotions spiralling out of control. You welcomed his tongue inside your mouth, the strong taste of tequila and desperation enlivening your inner workings, heightening your need for him, him, and only him.

His hands had no restrictions — the pads of his fingers had their very own needs, their own desire to feel every crevice of your body, your every curve and corner till you have no secret stored in your figure which they did not know of. You welcomed their ravaging, embraced their interrogation as they tried to uncover everything you held dear. 

Once these hands found a weakness in the form of your dress altogether, they cleverly found an opening, reaching for the end of your dress lined at your thighs. His fingers hitched the hem upwards, skirting it higher until it bunched at your waist, revealing a red, silken thong, embroidered with black thread. You relished in Chan practically salivating all over the image, but his lust slapped him out of his dazing, and hurried to get it off, hands slipping it down your legs until it was discarded on the kitchen floor. 

In an instant the man thrust two fingers inside of you, stretching your walls and creating a hypnotic rhythm of removing and inserting them back again. Your moans could bring down the whole residence, but none of you cared when Chan was scissoring you with his digits on the kitchen counter, desire radiating off his stature, and a determination to completely ruin you stark on his face. 

“M-more!” You begged, knowing you could take it, and you were rewarded with a third finger, filling you up as you cried out in pleasure. His mouth quietened you, sucking on your lower lip and then taking all of you, had you delirious, but this insanity only progressed as the thrust of his fingers hit lighting speed. 

The three digits had quickened your potential release, right on the tip of your cunt if he did not stop. “I’m g-gonna—fuck—!” 

You were interrupted as Chan’s lips left yours, trailing down to your neck, collarbone, brushing his teeth between your chest as he fell to his knees. Pulling you forward, on the edge of the countertop, he spread your legs apart, cock twitching at the drenched cunt which awaited him, like a feast displayed for a starved, wild animal. 

Looking up at you, he growled, “Cum when I say so, understand?”

Your hurried nods was all he needed as he dove right in, tongue sliding up your slit, lapping up your arousal as if it was an eternal cure. He fastened his stroke as he welcomed in his sight your clit, swiping his tongue along the bud. 

You moaned out his name like a cry for help, and he answered at first ring when his fingers still laboured, faster and faster, along with his heavenly tongue licking your clit like ice cream on a summer's day. 

“Chan, please—!” You choked out, one hand carding through the man’s hair, driving his face deeper into your cunt. “Please, I need to cum!”

Completely ignoring you, he carried on his ravishing, making you shake your legs to a point your body was beyond your control — you were at his mercy when his head was between your legs, when he prodded at your core as if it was no one else’s but his. 

When Chan brushed against your g-spot, it took every muscle in your body not to cum on his face then and there. He was being cruel; this was punishment for going to that party, justice for choosing Jisung’s company over his.

You did not know punishment felt so pain-stakingly amazing. 

Calling out his name for the last time, you knew that if the man carried on, you would go against his wishes and free yourself of the burden pushing down on your gut. Gripping onto his hair hard enough to rip right off, Chan spared a single glance at you from above, licking his lips off your mess.

“Cum for me, baby.”

That was the first time you came that night. Shaking as you freed your juices unto him, he gladly accepting the release. It was like you possessed a vessel of your release, the way you kept it inside for so long. He could never refuse though, when he knew he was responsible for driving you down that road of vulnerability. 

However, even with all of that, you still wanted more. 

And as Chan ascended on his feet, yanking his fingers out of you, he saw it in your eyes. The uncontainable passion. The unadulterated desire. 

All for him. All. For him.

Your best friend’s smile was positively wicked.

“I will completely ruin you, ____.”

He was upon you like a beast, no mercy upon your lips as he bruised them with his teeth, your pleas drowned out by his mouth as he lifted you in his arms. His kisses never ceased as he led you in his bedroom, nearly ripping the hinges at the sheer intensity of slamming his door shut. 

Throwing you on the bed, your breath whooshed out of you at the free fall, heart running miles as you witnessed Chan take his shirt off, his entire chest glistening with sweat, no doubt from the work he put in mere minutes ago. 

Upon you in seconds, his mouth robbed you of any more oxygen, prying it open as he attempted to unzip your dress from the back. Then, pressing open-mouthed kisses down your throat, he tried to loosen the zipping, but the damned thing got stuck in it’s trail, unable to satisfy. 

Letting out an angry growl, he damned the dress when, using his hands at the front, he ripped the fabric in half, completely down to the hem. 

“My dress!” You gasped out, watching him discard the torn fabric as if it were a minor inconvenience in his path.

You were cut off by his mouth, scorching you down to the bone. “I’ll buy you ten more, baby,” he muttered, skimming his hands down your bare sides.

You had the audacity to roll your eyes at his words. “Why do you keep forgetting you’re a college student?”

It seemed Chan did not take kindly to your comment. “Shut your fucking mouth,” he snapped, resulting in you leaking right onto his sheets. 

That kept you wilfully obedient, and rightfully so, when he unclipped your bra, tossing it to the side, and settled upon your breasts. Grinding his clothed cock upon your bare slit, he licked your right nipple, making you whimper out at him. His reply was swirling his finger on your left nipple, toying with your body as if it was his plaything. You would have had a right mind to shout at him if he didn’t bring such euphoria along with it. 

“Chan,” you whispered, gripping onto the sheets as he continued sucking your breasts. “Chan, I...I need you to fuck me already.”

He paused his assault on your bud, raising a groomed brow. “What do you say to that?” He asked, too calmly in a crazy situation like this. 

Of course, he wanted to make you beg. Considering you did not care the least for your self respect, or lack thereof, you completely obliged him, rutting your bare cunt upon his trousers. 

“Please, Chan. Please.”

Hearing the little pleases had him kissing you insane as he urged you to take his pants off. You willingly obeyed, tossing the clothing along with his Calvins, and when his cock sprung me you felt the inside of your mouth water at the sight. 

The man hovered just above you as he positioned his dick right at the entrance, poking between the folds. “Say the magic word, now, baby,” he commanded quietly, and just for the last time, you had to be the most annoying person in the world. 

“Donghyuck!”

The second that damned name slipped out of your mouth, you completely regretted it as instead of making sweet, slow love to you, Bang Chan thrusted his cock so hard into you your whole body flinched with the impact. You couldn’t suppress the whimper that escaped, tears settling in your eyes, but alas, your best friend had little sympathy for you. 

“Bitch,” he seethed, pulling out, widening your eyes only to have him slam his cock back into you, sending you into another universe entirely. 

You envied his strength — you could barely hold onto his arms while his grip on you could probably compete with the Earth’s gravity, stable and safe and inescapable. He imprisoned you in his hold as he pulled out slowly, and then drove back inside, but you wanted to be in this cage, to never leave his midnight eyes that offered something other than rage and lust and humour. You dared not wonder what it might be, but when you closed your eyes, your mind began to ponder, float amongst the stars of ideas and questions which defined your relationship.

As Chan began to fasten his pace, thrusts more erratic, you held onto his dark curls, mouth never refraining every moan and whine which he fucked out of you. There he was, the man who deemed you worthy of being pleasured, despite risking your decade old friendship to see you have the same advantages as any old person who was sexually frustrated.

But this man did not just give you any old advantages — he offered the whole world in his hands to you, knelt before you, fulfilled your every waking desire, held onto you before you could ever slip away into the chaos of your mind. Even now, with you getting lost into the galaxies of his eyes, it was solely his hands which were the anchor to reality, a reality he made better by his offer. 

Bang Chan, your very best friend. 

When he caught the tenderness radiating on your face, he could not help stealing a little for himself, moulding his lips upon yours as he pistoned you in the bed. It was perhaps this small warmth, along with his perfect rhythm of his cock that had you crying out, barely able to contain your second release.

You broke away from the kiss, and uttered his name like a prayer. “Chan,” you whimpered, not needing to say anything for him to realise that you were so very near.

He pressed his forehead against yours, unable to keep away from you. “Fine then,” he grumbled. “I’ll go easy on you.

“Cum for me, ____.”

The words weren’t fully out when you stained Chan’s bed with your release, pushing through the tiny spaces in your walls. He, too, let out an aggravated cry as he spilled into you, most mingling along with your cum upon the sheets. 

A heavy silence fell upon the both of you, both of your breathing harmonising with each other in the cold midnight. Chan toppled on the side of the bed next to you, closing his eyes as he breathed from his mouth, chest rising unevenly.

For minutes none of you said anything to each other, simply basking in each other’s peace. You felt the eyes of your best friend, and locked them with yours.

You decided to break the silence first. 

“I’m sorry for saying his name.”

Brilliant. Why would you mention that stupid idol once again? 

Chan, surprisingly, burst into laughter. You were caught completely off guard, but seeing his smile lighten up his face had you reflecting his happiness. 

“You are,” he rasped out, holding onto his stomach, “The most annoying bitch I’ve ever met.”

“Hey!” You exclaimed, smacking him on his arm, which he responded with threats of pushing you off the bed. “You wouldn’t dare!”

His hands were upon you in seconds, steering you at the edge of the mattress. He cackled at your shocked yelping, and you glared at him as he pushed you away from the edge, and into his arms. “Asshole,” you murmured, burying your face in his chest, which he gladly welcomed as he stroked your hair softly with his fingers. 

You both found solace in each other’s embrace for a little while before Chan let go of you. “Hey, I completely forgot, but...I got you something while you were out.”

Your eyes perked up at the idea of a gift, which the man tutted when he noticed. “Greedy whore,” he crowed, getting out of the bed as he strolled to his desk, grabbing a brown paper bag. His marble-cut ass was out for you to see, and you took full advantage, watching it with no small amount of admiration. 

“Enjoyed the view?” He asked innocently as he slithered right back into bed again, offering you the paper bag. Sticking your tongue out at him, you took the offer, opening it up to see what was so special inside.

Catching sight of the gift had you bursting into a smile.

“Chan!”

You whipped the goods out of the bag, hand on your mouth.

The man bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from smiling too wide. “You like it?”

“You like it?” You parroted, already digging in. “Where did you even find these?”

“Oh, I visited my mom earlier in the day, and she got the cookies from the old shop,” he explained, taking one of the sweets for himself. “I instantly thought of you as she gave them to me, so I saved them for you.”

You widened your eyes in affection. These sweets may have been normal, bakery cookies, but they held a significance for the both of you: these cookies were what started the whole trend of you and Chan rating certain objects or situations for each other, and whenever you were on an academic break, you made sure to drag your friend back to our hometown, where you could always grab a dozen of your favourite snack.

“Thank you for these, bud,” you said, eating away the first cookie. “I think they’ve become better than an eight now.”

Chan hummed in agreement, finishing off his one too. Licking the crumbs off his fingers, he then turned to you, a question riddled all over his face. “Hey, ____?”

“Yeah?”

When he didn’t say anything, you focused your attention on him, propping your head on your elbow. You saw with slight surprise that his cheeks were reddening by the second.

“Chan?”

“It’s just…” he raised his hand, holding your own. “I’ve been thinking about…all of this.”

You raised your brows, refusing to reveal the dread rising in your gut. “Us?”

“Yeah, us,” he confirmed, stroking his thumb across your fingers. “Now, remember that you’ll always be my best friend, okay, like I don’t want you thinking that this would be the end of us or something—”

“Get to the point, buddy,” you hurried along, earning a glare from him.

Then, he licked his lips in anxiety, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. Hand never leaving yours, he pinned you with a stare, making you even more nervous.

He parted his mouth. 

“____, would you like to go on a date with me?”

You blinked. 

Your delayed reaction had Chan groaning. “Fuck, nevermind, just forget I said anything!” He swiped his hand away from yours, holding his head in shame. “I should have kept my big mouth shut, your bad habits are really growing on me—”

“Yes.”

Your best friend paused. 

Turned, ever so slowly, towards you. 

“What?”

You could not contain your smile as you took his hand once more. “I’ll go on a date with you, you big oaf.”

For a second you truly believed you had killed off Chan with that declaration. Then, his face exploded into pure joy, and he tackled you in a massive hug, burying his face into the crook of your neck.

“Oh my fucking God!” he cursed, “Don’t do that to me again!”

You laughed heartily as you put him at arms’ length. “You were the one doing mental gymnastics!” 

Refusing still to let go of you, he played with your hair as he clamped on his lips. “One more thing.”

“Shoot.”

“How good was I?” He looked at you, a vulnerable expression etched onto his beautiful features. “You know...with all of this.”

You stared at him, drinking in his face, his every detail, as if you had all the time in the world. Firstly, you had a right mind to pull his leg one more time, but you feared that if you made fun of him again, he might die of a heart attack.

And you still had many more years of tormenting your best friend.

So you brought him towards you, pressing your lips onto his. He seemed very much obliged to go deeper, but you pulled away just as quickly, offering him a ghost of a smile.

“I think you were a 10/10,” you whispered. “From start till finish.”

Hearing the score, and sensing your sincerity along with it, had him in near tears. He enveloped your mouth with his, backing you against the divan as he expressed his affection within the rhythm of his lips. 

When he pulled away, still mere inches from you, he said the words he’d been meaning to say since the day he first laid eyes on you — since the day you two contacted this system, since the day he knew your rating as if he knew his own name.

“Well, baby, you’ve always been a 10/10 for me.”

[eartht137]

FOR THE BETTER pt. III

Oh curvies I have another part to put up for you. I'm hoping this is enjoyable please feel free to leave feedback, I need it lol. Not too much to say about this chapter except here ya go. I had fun writing more about Lois in this chapter and giving her perspective a bit about the whole "friendship" so let me know so I can improve. Alright read away love ya MMMMwwwwahhhhh!!!

Summary: Clark and Y/n have been spending a lot of time together. Y/n has asked Clark to invite Lois along but she hardly ever shows up. Y/n doesn't think much of it, but she should, because Lois wants time with her man and Y/n is in the way. How will Clark handle the distance though?

Dark Clark Kent x Black!Plus Size Reader

Over the next few weeks you and Clark spent almost everyday together, and you were starting to feel a bit bad that Lois hadn't been able to join, but a handful of times. Clark spent every moment he had available working to get you to fully trust him and you finally relented to having movie night at his place.

"Hey bestie." You greeted as you removed you jacket.

"I was thinking, I want to take you out one day." he commented from his couch as you began moving around his kitchen to start making dinner.

"Uh, no." You said calmly.

"You do realize I've only seen you your uniform, casual clothes, and pajamas. I've never seen you dressed up."

"Well tough luck Kent," You said pointing a big metal spoon at him. "I don't do dress up." You said sticking your nose in the air.

"You don't do a lot of things." He complained under his breath. You held the cooking spoon to your chest and calmly walked in front of him. "It is my job in my life and the next to give you the biggest amount of grief and shit since you made the decision to bulldoze your way into my blissful loneliness." he erupted into a fit of laughter as you spoke in your overly proper accent. "Furthermore, I shall repeat my earlier sentiment. I don't do dress up. Now, Mr. Kent, I am preparing our meal and you shall behave if you want dessert." You said holding you overly proper dramatic demeanor.

"Dessert?" He asked biting his lip, his mind traveling to dangerous thoughts.

"Oh yes, a quite delightful dessert-a mortal weakness of mine." You said in a dramatically evil way, rubbing your hands together as if you'd created something diabolical.

"Oh god here we go." Clark said pinching the bridge of his nose.

"CHOCOLATE!!!!" You both yelled out together, you added and evil laugh at the end and walked like Igor to the stove, rubbing circles on the glass.

"Yes, yes, bake my pretty's and we shall take over this world-TOGETHER!!!" You definitely had Clark in tears of laughter. A slow clap brought him out of his euphoric laughter. You both looked and saw Lois standing in the door way and she didn't seem too happy. You assumed it was because of work.

"Hey Lois." You said cheerfully not really noticing how she was looking between you and Clark.

"What's going on?" She asked folding her arms across her chest.

"It's movie night." You said excited that she was there. "Come, come. I show you." You said getting back in character to cheer her up. You Igor walked with her back to the kitchen making her laugh even though she was upset and didn't want to. You opened the stove and showed her the dessert. "Shh shh, no one must know of my plan." You said rubbing your hands together evilly.

"What plan?" She asked confused.

"To take over the world with CHOCOLATE!!!" You said throwing your hands in the air adding the evil laugh at the end.

"Go, go you must go and prepare yourself." You said shooing her away.

"Prepare myself?" she asked even more confused.

"For movie night. A night of terrifying, horrible, scary-wait, what are we watching again?" you asked Clark. He said a movie you hated and you immediately deflated laying on the floor in tantrum style. "You said we wouldn't watch that one. No wait, its our viewer of honors turn to choose. Lois, you don't know how great it is to have you for movie night!" you said jumping up genuinely excited. She couldn't help but smile because she could see you didn't have bad intentions, but the same couldn't be said for Clark. She really didn't know what his deal was. She questioned him from the beginning when he began to talk about you and your work. She didn't think much of it at first, even when he invited you for dinner at his mom's, she honestly thought he was just being nice because you were a loner in his class, but when the movie nights and friend outings overshadowed their relationship, that's when she realized something else was up. She saw the long stares and smiles at you, she remembered when he used to look at her that way. The only thing that kept her certain that he still loved her was that he hadn't told you his biggest secret. Your gasp startled them out of there stare down.

"I forgot the whipped cream." You said urgently.

"There's some in the fridge." Clark said pointing at the refrigerator. You put your hands on your hips and glared at him.

"Is it cool whip?" You asked waiting for his answer and his silence was answer enough. "Its alright, I'll go get some."

"You most certainly will not. I'll go get some. I'll be right back."

"Woah dude, you're forgetting the cash." You said fishing in your pocket for money. He chuckled, ruffled your fro, and left. "Dude, I said not the mop." you said fixing your hair.

"So..." Lois said a bit awkwardly as you walked back to the kitchen.

So, how's everything at the Daily Planet going? Clark was telling me you were on this really big blow up article. I can help. I can go and get info that way you don't have to and you can spend more time with Clark." You said with a smile.

"Yeah, lets talk about that, spending more time with Clark. How about you back off a bit and not spend so much time with him."

"Oh-I...." You trailed off feeling a bit uncomfortable. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize-I....I didn't know, honest, but you're absolutely right. I'm so sorry." You said genuinely feeling bad that Clark hadn't been spending time with her as you thought. You respected that she needed him and even though you tried to avoid it, you figured something like that would happen. "Should-do you want me to leave?" You asked not wanting to make her uncomfortable.

"No, stay, just....I need him too. Tonight's okay, but just a couple of weeks? I need him to myself." she said hoping you'd understand.

"I completely understand." you said continuing to prepare the meal for the evening. You really wanted to leave, but you didn't want to make everything awkward. When Clark made it back, Lois was able to keep up the act, you weren't. Clark could tell right off something was up, even when you kept saying you were okay, he could tell you were lying. Once dinner was done, you all sat quietly watching the movie Lois had picked. Soon he and Lois had fallen asleep together on the couch. Taking that as your moment, you tried to leave as quietly as you could. You were just opening the door when you heard him stir awake.

"Y/n? Where are you going? Its too late."

You quickly rushed out and left without saying a word. That was the last he heard from you for almost 3 weeks. You didn't show up for class in person, only opting to take the online course for awhile, and you wouldn't answer his texts or calls. One evening after not getting a response, Clark was fed up and he was ready to confront you about your sudden absence. When he got to your door he saw that it wasn't fully closed. He heard your muffled cries and made his way to make sure you were okay. He saw you burying your face in the pillow trying to quiet your cries. His arms wrapped around you like a blanket and you immediately began to calm down and feel better. After awhile when you calmed down, you tried to get up, but Clark held you still. He went and got you a glass of water and aspirin. He made sure you got everything down safely and he hovered over you not giving you room to escape.

"Are you okay?" He asked still caging you in. You nodded. "What's going on? Why have you been avoiding me? I thought we were friends? I would've been able to be here to help you but you shut me out and I want to know why?"

"Clark, really? Right now?"

"You're damn right, right now."

"You can't spend everyday with me and neglect Lois, its not right. She needs you to be there for her and you can't do that hanging around with me." You said trying to get from under him.

"She said something to you?"

"Of course she did, I assumed she'd spoken with you, I just didn't want to upset her or cause problems."

"You didn't want to upset her? Oh right, but you didn't think of how it would upset me, your friend?"

"Clark, are you even listening? Lois needs you she-"

"I'm not talking about Lois, I'm talking about you and me. You don't shut me out like that. Did you even consider what I would think or feel? Did you think of maybe coming to me and talking about it?"

"N-no, I-"

"No you didn't, you were being selfish!" He yelled making you feel bad. You'd never seen him so upset and you immediately wanted to make it right.

"Dude, I'm sorry okay. I just felt so bad that I was coming between your relationship, I just didn't want to upset her."

"Once again, we're not talking about her, we're talking about you and me. I'm trying to make you understand that what you did was hurtful."

"-and I'm explaining why I did it. I was asked to step back, so I did. What more should I have done?"

"You should've come to me! You talk to me and tell me what's going on."

"Clark, yes you are my friend, but that is mad disrespectful and I won't disrespect her. She came first, I'm just the little lost puppy you picked up okay? You can't neglect her you will lose her." you tried explaining to him. He stared at you for a second, before storming off. He went and stood on your patio to cool off and you took him a drink as a peace offering. When you handed it to him, he grabbed your hand in his.

"Don't ever do that again." He chastised before pulling you into a big hug. That night, you both cooked dinner together and sat to talk a bit more.

"Clark, I know you might not want to talk about it anymore, but I really do think you need to talk with Lois. She needs you more than you know."

"She doesn't need me, she hasn't needed me for a long time. We don't even sleep together anymore. I can't even remember the last time we had sex." he said taking a long swig of his beer. You shifted a bit uncomfortably. That was a huge no-no topic for you and you fought to keep the image from crossing your mind. You already felt bad for the very vivid dreams you'd been having about him, so vivid they'd jerk you awake.

"You really should talk to her." you whispered. "I-I have something I wanted to tell you."

"Oh yeah?" he asked curious.

"I met someone, we're just getting to know each other now, but I really like them. They're super awesome and super sweet, and before you ask, its not the guy from class." you said smiling and finally looking at him. You noticed that he looked pissed. His jaw was tight and he wouldn't look at you. "Dude you okay?" he sat silent for a moment too long. "Clark, what's wrong?" He didn't say anything, he just got up and walked out of your apartment. It was his turn to ghost you and you didn't speak with him again until you decided to go back to class in person and you'd hoped whatever was bugging him had passed. When you walked in class, he didn't even acknowledge you and you were hurt. You waited back after class to at least speak to him. Once everyone cleared out you tried talking to him.

"Hey, how've you been?" you asked carefully.

"Oh I've just been, trying to spend time with Lois as requested." He snipped at you.

"O-kay well, just wanted to check on you." you said turning to leave, but he grabbed your hand.

"No, don't leave. I'm sorry, its just...it been a really long day and I haven't talked to my friend in weeks. Come on, lets go to the office." He said leading you back to the back. You both sat back there catching up and joking.

"Well I have a favor to ask, and I promise you don't have to if you can't or don't want to, but I wanted to ask if you and Lois would like to come on a double date with me and my new partner this weekend."

The look he gave you quickly made you rethink asking him that question.

"I mean you don't have to, I understand if you have plans."

He stood stone still staring at you for way too long, then he smiled.

"Yeah, we'll be there. What time and where?" He asked.

What you'd missed was the deviousness dripping off of his voice because his smile made it seem like he was being nice. You gave him all the info and hugged him before waving goodbye.

"Dinner this weekend huh?" Clark said to himself. "Dinner is going to be very nice." He said before getting his material together for his next class.

[dreamescapeswriting]

On The Run ~ MYG [Request]

WORD COUNT: 4.8k

PAIRING: Bodyguard!Yoongi x Reader

GENRE: Bodyguard!Au, fluffy, enemies to lovers, Yoongi has a soft spot for reader, Reader has a soft spot for Yoongi, 

WARNINGS: Mentions of dead bodies, blood, mafia, underworld dealings,

A/N: Yes I am simping over Tatsu from the anime “The way of The house husband” so I used his name 😭😭 I feel like this is a little fast-paced so I’m sorry x I hope you like it though my love

Running away. That was your life now. There was no staying in one place, no settling down in some small village. Just running. Don't let people know who you are and never let anyone know your name. All of the joys of being on the run. But this was better than the life you had. At least this was a life. This was better than the way you were living before and you were never going to look back on it. 

"Hey! Come back here!" A voice shrieked as you sprinted in the direction of the motel you were staying in. Panicked that they were going to catch up to you as you carried the backpack full of food with you. Run. Don't look back. Don't speak. Don't stop. Don't ever second guess a thing. Only move at night. Don't go out in the day. Just Run.

Tatsu Susaki one of the most feared men in the whole of South Korea. Everyone knew his name and face, even if they barely turned on the news or read a newspaper they knew him. Tatsu had moved from Japan to take over the South Korean underground, bored of whatever life he had back in Japan. 

The man everyone called the immortal dragon, everyone feared him even if he was just walking down the street. People would stop what they were doing to pay their respects to him with money or gifts. The scariest man in the country and the one you were in a relationship with. Though it didn't feel like a relationship to you. 

To you, it felt as though you were trapped with him rather than his girlfriend. Held hostage in his huge mansion of a home because you had fallen for a stupid pickup line not too long ago. If you had known it would have lead to this kind of life you never would have taken him up on his offer of a date.

"Where are you going?" A voice called out as you attempted to walk out of the back door. Sighing to yourself you had almost forgotten that Yoongi was in the house. Yoongi was your personal torture device. 

In other words, he was your bodyguard. 

The one you were adamant that you didn't need but Tatsu insisted upon giving to you. On the rare occasion that you were allowed out of the house, Yoongi would go with you. Everywhere. Shopping with friends, Yoongi would be there. Going to dinner with family, Yoongi would be there. Not that you were ever out with friends and family anymore.

It was as though Yoonig was attached to you at the hip. 

"To the back garden, are we going to have a problem with that?" You asked snarkily as you turned to look at him. Neither of you got along with one another. Yoongi didn't want to be there any more than you did.

He'd joined Tatsu's family with the intention of getting into the business. Not being someone's personal babysitter.

It was a Sunday which meant Tatsu was out of the house doing lord knows what and you could do whatever you wanted...Within reason. 

The man ordered you around like you were his daughter rather than his girlfriend. You didn't have a life outside of Tatsu's world anymore. He'd cut you off from everyone you had loved.

Friends no longer wanted to be around someone who would associate themselves with someone from the underworld. Your family were cut off from you because they disapproved or disrespected Tatsu in some kind of way. It was cut off or be killed and you made the decision to keep your family alive and well.

"You know you have to tell me everywhere you go," Yoongi told you as he watched you standing by the door. Hand clutching onto the handle as if it was your life support.

"Even when I have to go the bathroom? Or what about when I have to leave the house because my boyfriend is cheating on me?" 

Yoongi looked at you sadly. It was no secret that Tatsu would cheat on you almost all of the time, he could do whatever he wanted meanwhile you were barely allowed to speak to anyone outside of his social circle. If you went out to parties together you were to sit there and look pretty. 

His exact orders. He would give you an expensive dress and accessories before making you sit on a chair all night without speaking to another soul. 

"You have to tell me everything and where you at all times." Yoongi stepped into the kitchen to be near you in case you made a sprint for the exit. Not that there was a way out of the back garden. If you had somehow managed to jump the 10-foot brick wall there were dogs around the property. 

"Oh, so I'm like your little puppy. You get to take me on walks and feed me." You faked a giant smile on your face but Yoongi wasn't impressed.

"Y/n there's no need for this, we've been through this a million times before." It felt like billions to you. All you wanted to do was get out of this relationship but Tatsu had made it clear there was only one way out and that was in a wooden box in the ground. 

"I'll keep going through it until you leave me alone." You grumbled, hand dropping from the handle once you realised he was going to follow you out there. All you wanted to do was go gardening for a little while. 

"I can't. I'm paid to look after you." Rolling your eyes you stared at him,

"I'll pay you more"

"We both know you can't." He counted but you just opened the door not stepping out as you turned to Yoongi.

"I'm going to the garden." You grumbled as you walked out of the back door and down towards the greenhouse. Yoongi's eyes widened once he realised you were going toward the greenhouse. The one place he had been ordered to keep you out of. 

"Y/n! wait! The boss said not-" He couldn't finish his sentence as you pushed the door to the greenhouse open. Letting out a scream of terror as you saw the blood pooling on the ground coming from a body. 

"Is he fucking joking?!" You screamed instantly turning to hide your face in Yoongi's chest as he pulled you out of the greenhouse. His arms wrapping around you as he tried to comfort you, broken sobs leaving your mouth.

Fear crippling as you pictured the dead body lying there on the floor. The greenhouse was your one safe space, the one place you could go without it being ruined by Tatsu's world but that was now gone.  

"I was under strict rules not to let you in there." Images of the body flashed into your head over and over again as you pushed Yoongi away from you

"I want to go out." You snapped, needing to do something to get the image of the swollen body from your mind. There was nothing that would ever make you forget the stench of decay or the colour that splattered the floor. 

"You're not allowed today," Yoongi spoke as he began following you back into the house.

"Why?" It was a dumb question to which you already knew the answer.

"Because-"

"He said so." You mumbled in unison as you looked to Yoongi a part of you hoped that one-day Yoongi would feel so bad for you he'd let you go.

The only reason you hadn't run away was that Tatsu threatened everyone you loved and told you that he could find you no matter where you were. 

"He has left orders for you though,"

"Of course he has," You uttered as you walked towards the grand staircase in the foyer. 

"He has left a dress in the guest room, someone will be round to do your hair and makeup," Yoongi told you as you continued to walk up the stairs in silence. 

"I'm going to take a bath." You told him as you reached the top of the stairs, turning to face him as he looked up at you. 

"Shall I let you know when the stylists have arrived?" You hummed before walking towards your room. It wasn't as though you shared a bedroom with Tatsu, you were just there to look good for him. The two of you hardly spoke a word to one another since the first date. Unless it was him telling you off or speaking about you right in front of you.

Another night another boring party. Sitting in the booth watching as your "boyfriend" dance with other girls, kissed them and bought them drinks. The way in you had been photographed together, his hand practically cutting off your circulation when you had tried to avoid being seen by the cameras. 

"Y/n," You glanced at Yoongi who sat down in front of you. Raising an eyebrow at him you wondered why he had come over to you.

"We could play a game?"

"A game?" You questioned a little apprehensive that he was suddenly trying to be nice to you right now. 

"Sure, to stop you from being so bored." He seemed to be genuinely trying to make this a better experience for you but it wasn't going to work. 

"What do you propose we do?" You looked at him before looking around the room. It wasn't as if you were allowed to get up and dance. What did he expect you to do? Sit and count how many people your boyfriend made out with. 

"Eyespy."

"Eyespy what am I, 10?" You questioned him.

"Just, come on." You rolled your eyes before looking around you to see what Yoongi was going to pick for his first go.

"Eyespy something beginning with S." Eyes darted around the room until you saw the giant ice sculpture in the centre of the room. 

"Snake." You mumbled as you answered Yoongi, he nodded and waiting for you to go next. Moving to sit beside Yoongi you smiled, nudging into him a little. 

"Eye spy with my little eye, something beginning with C.," You said to him as you looked at Tatsu. 

It continued on until you found yourself actually having fun with Yoongi. Forgetting for a moment that you were being forced to be at the party. 

Giggling a little when you told Yoongi you had found something he was sure you'd never find you looked at him instead of where Tatsu was around the room. 

"What are you doing?" Yoongi stood up straight and stared ahead at the crowd as Tatsu spoke with you. 

"I was just having fun." You whispered as you looked at him. Swallowing the lump in your throat as you saw his eye twitch, something he did when he was mad. 

"You're not here to have fun. You're here to sit there and look good!" He snapped making you flinch as you looked up at him, you never wanted to get on the wrong side of something with Tatsu so you nodded.

"I want you to sit here, alone." He left taking Yoongi with him as he ordered him to stand with the other guards on the other side of the room. 

Hours passed by and Tatsu was still speaking with different girls on the dance floor. Letting their bodies brush against his own while you watched from the distance. 

Yoongi had been moved to the other side of the room to stop you from talking to him. His eyes still trained to you as you watched Tatsu cheat on you for the ninth time that week. It was like he wanted you to watch as he cheated on you. Yet another powerplay of his. 

Was it even a relationship when he was forcing you to be there? You were a captive. 

Tatsu's eyes shut as he began to kiss down the woman's neck. It was your chance to break away without him noticing at first glance. Too busy with another woman's lips on his. You knew the bathroom had a window large enough to crawl through and you had a way out of the parking lot of the hotel you were in. 

Standing up from the booth you began to make your way through the crowd of people. Pushing yourself past people who were grinding against one another drunkenly. Yoongi frowned when the crowds parted and he could no longer see you sitting where he had left you. 

Glancing over your shoulder you made sure Tatsu was still busy before you crashed into the bathroom there was no lock so you had to make quick work of everything. 

Kicking off the heels you were wearing before opening the window, glancing out at it. The bathroom was one floor up from the small alleyway below you. The height wasn't enough to hurt yourself and the window opened just enough for you to get through so you began pushing yourself through the gap. 

Whimpering when you hit the pavement one floor below you. Digging through the front of your dress to grab the keys you had swiped from Yoongi. 

Yoongi panicked as he saw you weren't in the room anymore, his eyes darted towards the exit. There was no way you had gone out of there since there were three guards there the whole time. 

"What's going on?" Someone asked into the speaker in his ear. 

"Yoongi left his post." Another said. 

"Accompanying Y/n to the bathroom." He hissed as he walked towards the bathroom door, knocking on it and waiting for you to shout at him for following you but you didn't. There was no sound from inside of the room. That made him freak even more. Normally you would scream some kind of verbal abuse at him for following you to the bathroom.

"Y/n?" He called out moving into the room only to find your shoes on the ground. Bending down he picked them up and looked at the window.

"Shit." He walked back out calmly making sure no one was watching him as he headed for the exit. You probably went for air. You had to have gone for air. if you were gone he'd bed dead.

Roaring to life the motorbike engine you smiled as you finally saw your way out. Yoongi's motorcycle. You mentally thanked him for playing eye spy with you earlier in the night. It was the only way you could have ever gotten the keys to his bike. 

"Y/n." Your head span to look at Yoongi who was staring at you from the alleyway.  

"Don't," He warned as you put your leg over the seat and began to rev the engine. There was no going back. You were going. No one was going to stop you. 

Taking in a deep breath you began to ride down the road, Yoongi racing after you as he watched you closely, weaving in and out of cars that were in your way. You weren't speeding just going a little over the limit when you saw a car that belonged to one of Tatsu's men coming your way.

"Fuck!" You screamed halting to a stop and racing to get down one of the small alleys without being seen but a man crossed the road making you scream. Your hand pressed frantically on the break causing you and the bike to skid into the alleyway.

Yoongi raced to you, praying that neither the driver nor passenger in Tatsu's car had seen that it was you on the bike. Did he think you weren't going to get seen? You were wearing a designer lace dress wearing one of the most expensive necklaces in the entire world. 

"Y/n." He hissed pulling you to hide in the alley as he looked at you. Your leg had a cut on your calf but it didn't look as though it was going to cause you any kind of distress. 

"Leave me alone." You begged him as you began to cry heavily, the thought of going back to Tatsu killing you inside. There wasn't anything that could make you go back into that building. You were through being the girl who was there to make him look good. 

"Leave me alone, I need to get away." You begged with him to leave you, hitting his chest as he continued holding you tightly in his arms.

"Tell him I escaped. Tell him I died. Let me go." You pleaded with him. Each plea breaking Yoongi more and more as he listened to the desperation in your voice. 

"Y/n I can't." He told you as he rocked you a little in his arms, doing his best to ignore the aching inside of him to take you away from everything. 

"Give me some time to get away." Turning to look up at him he stared at you as he saw the pain in your eyes. That was the sign he needed to get you out of there. 

"Go home. Pack light." He whispered as he stood you up, looking at your leg as he checked it out. Nothing bad that warranted a trip to a doctor. Nothing that can't be fixed by him when he gets you somewhere safe.

"What?" You sniffled as you looked at him, wondering what he was talking about. 

"For once Y/n, please just do as you're told." You nodded at him as he pressed the earpiece on his ear.

"I'm taking Y/n home, she's sick." He spoke out to the other guards, you knew that Tatsu would either stay in the hotel with the girl he was with or find somewhere so you didn't have to worry about that. Yoongi looked at you before walking with you towards his bike. Standing it up once again, giving you a helmet from the seat hatch. 

"Put this on and hold onto my waist." He whispered to you as he sat on the seat.

"Where are we going?" You panicked as you watched Yoongi shoving your clothes into a backpack that you had given to him. He'd changed into black jeans and a hoodie from his room in the house. Throwing some of his own clothes in the bag with yours. 

"Change." He ordered as he looked at you, you were still standing there in the dress. Reaching to you he unclasped the necklace and laid it out onto the dressing table. Maybe if Tatsu saw that you had nothing of his he would let you get off easy. At least that was what Yoongi was hoping would happen. 

"Bring something he wouldn't expect you to wear." He ordered again as you grabbed some ripped blue jeans, a black top with a blue jean jacket. Taking the clothes from your hands he pushed them into the bag.

"Change into something he would expect. Hurry." You could hear the panic in his voice as you rushed to the bathroom changing just as quickly as he had told you to. 

Yoongi had all of the cash he had available to him. Around ₩1250000 he'd saved up and stashed in his room away from Tatsu.

"What are you going to do?" You questioned as he began pulling you down the stairs. This was the most panicked you'd ever seen Yoongi become and you had no question to rationalise what was happening and what he had planned for you both. 

Yoongi said nothing as he began pulling you out of the front door and looking around. Guards were changing at the shifts. It gave you ten minutes to get out without being seen. 

"Get on. Hold on." He ordered as he revved the engine of his bike. You sat behind him, hands clutching around his waist as he began to ride down the road. Helmets masking who you were for a little while but he knew it wasn't going to be enough. Yoongi was already one step ahead of everything that was going in his mind. He had a plan, he had no idea if it was going to work but he was going to try.

Just as you got outside of Seoul he stopped in a random parking bay on an empty road.  

"What are we doing?!" You panicked looking at him as he began handing you clothes. The clothes he'd told you to bring that Tatsu wouldn't expect you to wear.

"Change. It's the middle of the night, no one is going to see." He mumbled as he bent down beside his boke and began to take off the plate. 

"That illegal." You sniffled not realising that you were crying until you let out a small cry. Yoongi stared at you,

"Do you want to get away or not!?" He snapped harshly at you, not wanting to be rude but needing to get on the move as quickly as you both could. You nodded changing as he switched the plates around. 

The two of you needed to get out of Seoul as quickly as humanly possible, it was only going to get you some time to be away from Tatsu. Before he and his men noticed you weren't at home.

"Yoongi?" You whispered as you watched him standing back up, he'd changed into a leather jacket and some jeans. Both of you in new clothes and new plates on the bike and yet he still hadn't told you what the plan was. 

"We're heading back into the town. We need to get seen by cameras, this way it'll look like we went towards Busan on my bike but this is a new bike, new plates. He won't think to check it yet." He explained as he got onto the bike, your arms wrapped around his waist. You were trusting someone you previously hated and gave shit to. 

"Where are we really going?" You asked him before he started the engine. It wasn't as if you could talk while it was running.

"Damyang."

"Whats in Damyang?" You questioned.

"My parents. I can get us more money, I can get supplies and from there we're on the run." Everything felt as though it was moving at 100mph.

"We?" 

"You think he won't kill me for letting you go. Yes, we." He looked at you over his shoulder to see if that was okay and you nodded.

"We." You agreed as he started the engine. Driving out back into town as you kept your head resting on his back. Praying that this was going to work somehow. That Tatsu was going to leave you alone or at least have no idea where you were.

The middle of nowhere was where you had landed together the next day. Broad daylight and Yoongi decided to stop in some dingy motel. 

"We can stay here for now." He explained as he came out of a small office holding a key to a room. 

"Motel room for the night," You laughed as you looked at it. There had to be some kind of trap to this,

"Do you think I'm stupid?! You're going to tell him where to find us." You screamed out in a panic but he yanked you into the room and shook his head. Covering your mouth with his hand so that you didn't draw unwanted attention to one another. Daylight was going to be the worst time for you both. It was easy for you to be spotted, at least if you slept through the days and moved only at night it would be easier.

"No. The bike is hidden. We have to draw the curtains." He mumbled as he began shutting everything up. Blocking the door with one of the chairs that were in the room, adding a table so that you would hear if someone tried the door handle. 

The two of you alone in a room with one bed, it was like something out o a cheesy romance novel.

"How long we will be like this?" You questioned as you sank down onto the floor at the foot of the bed.

"Forever probably...You know what he's like." He whispered as he sat down on the floor at the end of the bed with you. You looked at him. For the first time since the night before you realised how badly this was all going to affect his life and not just yours anymore.

"I'm sorry. I-I never should have made you do this-"

"Made me? Y/n I did this because I could see how much pain you were in. How badly you needed out of there...It wasn't right for him to do this." You looked at him sitting closer to him as you nodded. Seeing him in a whole new light because he showed you a simple act of kindness. 

"I promise he'll never hurt you or come near you...We can run forever." You smiled weakly before leaning forward and kissing him softly. 

"Thank you." You breathed out, leaning your head on his shoulder and closing your eyes and for the first time in ever sleeping peacefully through the day. 

Yoongi came around with the bike and looked at you as you stood out in the middle of the pathway. Middle of the night and you were just standing there, taking in the air and the scenery around you. 

"What are you doing?" He questioned watching you standing there. Arms spread as you took in deep breaths as if it was the last time you were ever going to do this but it was the opposite reason. It was the first time you were allowed to be out in the open like this. No guards, no rules, no restrictions. 

"We're free...I-I don't have to be ordered around." You whispered as you looked at him, he was smiling the most you'd ever seen him smile ever. It was one of the cutest smiles you'd ever seen, such a cute gummy bear smile. 

"I can be me...I don't have to listen to someone telling me to sit and be quiet." You breathed out tears rushing down your cheeks as you realised just how free you were now. Yoongi wiped your face with his thumb and smiled, kissing your lips softly. You smiled against his lips as you wrapped your arms around the back of his neck until he pulled back from you.

"Get on." He whispered as he got onto the bike first and steadied himself.

He drove off. Your arms in the air as you let the wind rush over you both enjoying the newfound freedom that you had. 

"Drive," You laughed to Yoongi as you climbed into the backseat of the truck that Yoongi was waiting inside of. A year on the run and you were still going. Motel rooms in the day, driving in the night. With the two of you awake in the night, it was as though you were the only ones in the world. Just the two of you against the world.

"Did you get seen?" He asked a little panicked when he saw a man rushing after the car. You climbed through to the front seat and shook your head.

"No, he was asking for my number so I bolted," Yoongi smirked as he ran his hand up your thigh giving it a small squeeze.

"That's my girl." He chuckled as he began heading towards the motorway, the next stop on your list was Geoje. You were going to keep driving until you found a motel or until daytime came around. Whichever came by first.

"I told you to pay for the gas and get out," Yoongi laughed as you looked out behind you. The man was waving you back as you shook your head at Yoongi. 

"Not my fault I'm irresistible." You joked as he quickly turned to you, kissing you softly before he looked back at the road. 

"That you are." He breathed out as he continued driving. The bike had been traded for the old beat-up truck Yoongi had gotten from an elderly man in Daegu when you were there. Another way to lose any traces of you if Tatsu had any of them. The truth was neither of you knew if anyone was watching you or following you but it was fun being on the run. Just the two of you in the whole world. Moving at night so it felt like you were alone and had the world to yourselves. Your days in the motel rooms were spent playing board games, card games, watching tv or just spending one on one time with one another. The two of you had developed a growing relationship with one another. There was no one else you wanted other than Yoongi. 

"Hey," You whispered as you pulled up to a red light. He glanced at you and you took his chin into your finger and thumb. Kissing him sweetly before pulling away when the light was green. 

"Drive," You giggled looking out of the window at everything that was passing you. Everything looked so much prettier at night. You didn't know or want to know what life had in store for you, all you cared about was having Yoongi with you throughout it all. The two of you against the world. 

Tagline: @lyoongx​ @mitzwinchester​ @rjsmochii​ @taestannie​ @sw33tnight​ @sweeneyblue1​ @jin-from-the-block​ @acciocriativity​ @mwitsmejk​ @taeechwitaa​ @justbangtanthingz​ @stillwithlix​ @min-yus​ 

[mikrowrites]

cottages of constellations

c!wilbur x f!reader

warnings: angst, fluffy flashbacks, arson, character death

summary: there’s a place only known by two people, full of sweet memories and domesticity. but the world isn’t sweet anymore, and sometimes violence is the only universal language. rather, Sophie visits the cottage she and Wilbur shared before the war, and is met by an unlikely guest.

might make a part two w doomsday and revivebur, we shall see...

Y/n sighed, sitting upon her horse as the wind blew across the grassy field. Smoke still rose behind her from fires still not put out long after the destruction, the girl shaking her head to try and absolve the memory from her head.

She gripped the reins, goading the horse to move, Y/n riding across the field. She knew where she needed to go, she knew the coordinates by heart.

No one else knew about the cottage, just two people, and one of them... well, he’s dead. There’s no sugar coating that. It resided far from the server, a little place just for the two of them.

After a few hours, with the sun rising behind, Y/n rode into the woods. She kept going forwards until she reached the river, stopping the horse. She looked forwards, pursing her lips.

The cottage.

“This is the perfect place!”

Wilbur jumped off his horse, pointing to the small clearing along the river.

“You think so?” Y/n asked, walking up beside him to stare at the landscape.

“Of course.” He emphasized. “But of course perfect is wherever you are.”

Y/n scoffed. “Jesus, that was cheesy.”

Wilbur laughed, running down the landscape towards the small clearing. He turned back, smiling.

“Hey, are you coming?”

Y/n tied her horse to a lead, patting it in thanks before moving forwards, approaching the cottage.

It looked frozen in time, from when Y/n had left it to help fight for L’manburg. The flowers still looked kept, the farm out back unharvested. She smiled as she approached the cottage, taking in the blooming flowers.

“It’s a surprise, so no looking.”

“Okay, okay!” Y/n allowed Wilbur to lead her over outside the cottage.

Wilbur stopped. “Okay, you can look.”

Y/n opened her eyes, walking over to peer at several brightly colored flowers planted around the cottage’s exterior. The hues painted the landscape, causing her jaw to drop at the beauty.

“Do you like it?” Wilbur nervously asked, Y/n whipping her head around to cast him a bright smile.

“I love it, Wilbur.”

Y/n pushed the oak door open, the hinges creaking. She let out a few coughs as dust invaded her senses, stepping into the cottage. the lanterns were flickered out, pots of plants and flowers left withered and dead.

She walked past a set of bookshelves, running her fingers across the spines of the books.

Wilbur and Y/n sat together, books in each of their hands as they read and relish each other’s company. A kettle of water was being heated in the kitchen, the sun filtering through the windows.

Y/n flipped a page, not noticing as Wilbur’s eyes lifted from the pages to her face, studying every bit of her. A soft smile crossed his face as he studied her soft green eyes, the bridge of her nose, her eyebrows that were furrowed in concentration.

Suddenly her eyes flicked up, Wilbur’s face going red. “What are you looking at?”

“Nothing! Nothing, no, not at all, no, uh—“Wilbur smiled sheepishly. “You’re... you’re just so ethereal right now.”

It was Y/n’s turn to blush as she tried to hide her cheeks behind the book, the boy laughing.

Y/n grasped a rung of the ladder in her hand, sighing for a moment before pulling herself up. Each step up the ladder her heart quickened, her lips trembled.

She climbed into the loft area, her breath catching in her throat.

The bed was still perfectly made from the day she left it. The sunset reflected perfectly into the room from the large glass window, casting the room into a beautiful orange hue. Y/n turned and saw the chest in the corner, the sight bringing her to her knees.

The letters.

“I’ll write you so many letters, Y/n/n!” Wilbur insisted, grasping her hands. “Every day! Until you can join me, we can send those letters.”

Y/n nodded eagerly. “I’ll miss you, Wil.”

The boy pulled her into an embrace, the girl burying her face in his shirt. He smiled, tracing circles into her back comfortingly. “A letter a day for you, until we see each other again.”

And a letter a day she received.

The letters came daily, some recalling the events of the day, some poems, some love letters. Y/n read each letter enthusiastically, hearing of Wilbur’s adventures and the people he encountered. The nation he was creating, L’manburg.

Then, after receiving a letter detailing the start of the war for L’manburg, Y/n packed her bag, took her horse, and left for the server. She fought alongside Wilbur and the others, resisting for independence.

Y/n’s hands trembled as she sifted through and read each letter, the open pieces of parchment cast about the floor in front of her. Her heart ached as she read the words of a man whom she had lost so long ago, so long before his death. The Wilbur that had wrote Y/n songs and poems declaring his love and admiration had died in that war, leaving a man she could hardly recognize.

The orange glow of the sun was fading from the room, darkening the inside of the cottage. Y/n felt tears gather in her eyes as she finished reading the last letter, two teardrops pattering on the wood floor. The letter fluttered from her hand onto the ground with the rest, the girl wiping the tears from her cheeks.

She stood, looking out the window and noting how night was fast approaching. Y/n frowned, reaching into her pocket to produce a box of matches, walking over the the bedside lantern to light it. She struck the match, the flame igniting, lighting the lantern.

Y/n went to shake out the match before freezing, her eyes fixed upon the yellow light of the small flickering flame.

The fire crackled softly as melodic guitar chords filled the night with sweet music. The river rushed by near them, as well as the sounds of the rustling leaves in the wind, creating an orchestra of soothing sounds.

Y/n smiled, closing her eyes and resting her head against Wilbur’s shoulder as he strummed the guitar. They sat on a blanket in front of the fire, one of Wilbur’s coats draped over the girl’s shoulders.

Peace. Both felt total and complete peace.

“I wish we could stay like this forever.” Y/n mused, staring up at the stars.

“Maybe, someday, we will. We’ll just lay and chart constellations.” Wilbur responded confidently.

Y/n smiled, closing her eyes and letting the sounds of Wilbur’s guitar and the campfire lull her to sleep.

“I’d like that.”

The lit match felt heavy between Y/n’s fingers, the girl sitting amongst the countless letters once more. Night had fallen, the stars dotting the sky. Y/n stared out at the stars, catching sight of constellations and clouds and the moon.

She reached for a letter, parting her lips.

“You lied to me.”

Y/n stood once more and let the letter meet the match, the paper going up in flames. She dropped it, the flaming parchment falling to the floor and igniting the rest of the precious letters that could have redeemed Wilbur.

She stepped back, watching as flames set to the wood of the room, the bed, the carpet. The girl spared the room one last look before climbing down the ladder, throwing the match onto the bookshelf, and walking out of the cottage. Y/n walked backwards, watching as surely the cottage was caught in a fury of flames.

Y/n finally let herself breathe, exhaling deeply as if a weight had lifted off her chest. She watched her old home burn, finally feeling a sense of finality.

“You sure did a number on that house.”

Her eyes widened, spinning and quickly unsheathing her sword and raising it to the person behind her’s neck. Y/n’s eyes hardened, glaring at the unwanted visitor.

“What the fuck are you doing here.” She spat.

She could almost see Dream’s smile from under his mask. “Wilbur sure did love his secrets. Was will to impart a few to me in exchange for some TNT. I figured you might be here.”

Y/n furrowed her eyebrows. “He... he told you about the cottage?”

“Y/n... he told me everything.” Dream responded. She slowly lowered her sword, stepping away from Dream. “I understand everything now. Your blind devotion to him, the loyalty. The server that drove him to betray that trust.”

“You did.” Y/n insisted. “You drove him to his death. You caused all of this.”

“Wilbur made his own decisions.” Dream shrugged. “And as I can see now, so can you.”

Y/n turned to look back at the fire. “So, you’re here to kill me then, yeah?”

“No, I’m not.” Dream quickly replied, Y/n looking back at him. “I’m here to make you an offer.”

“An offer? What the hell does that mean?” She scoffed.

Dream approached her. “They’re rebuilding L’Manburg as we speak. They never learn, they never understand. They call Wilbur insane, yet maybe he was the most sane of us all. He saw and understood the truth, and that scared them. So here’s what I offer you, Y/n. Help me take them down. I’ll pay you a good price.”

“What could you pay me that’s worth my time?” Y/n raised her eyebrows, crossing her arms.

Dream reached into his pocket, throwing a few netherite ingots and several diamonds onto the grass in front of her. Y/n’s eyes widened slightly, looking up at him. “There’s so much more where this came from. And better yet,” Dream tilted his head slightly as he held a bundle of fabric to her, the brown shades and patches so very familiar; Wilbur’s coat. “you can finish what Wilbur started.”

Y/n stared wordlessly at the piece of clothing held out in front of her, before closing her eyes.

“Wil?” Y/n wandered over to where Wilbur sat in the darkness of Pogtopia, the girl kneeling down next to him.

“Hey, Y/n/n.” He smiled tightly, sitting forwards. “What’s up?”

The girl smiled sadly. “I don’t know. I just... everything’s all wrong. I don’t know how to fix it.”

The man pondered her words, considering how the events of the next few days would play out. The heartache and betrayal.

It was no secret Wilbur and Y/n had been drifting apart. The lingering trauma of her torturous life in Manburg and the loss of her first two canon lives, him grieving the loss of his country. They were both hanging on by a thread, and comfort was hard to be sought between the two of them.

Wilbur knew he would die soon. He knew that the end of his story was approaching, but maybe, he could have one more sweet memory with the girl he had fallen helplessly in love with.

“Let’s go look at the stars.”

Y/n perked up, her featured contorted in surprise. “What?”

“Like we used to, by the river. Let’s go stargazing.” Wilbur stood, holding out his hand to help her up. The girl took it, the boy pulling her up to standing and intertwining his fingers in hers, pulling her through the ravine.

They trudged up the stone stairs and through the hidden doorway, out into the open air. Wilbur led Y/n into a clearing, where he shrugged off his jacket, laying it on the ground. He beckoned her over, the two laying on top of the fabric and staring up.

The sky was exceptionally clear that night, the stars glittering beautifully against a dark sky. Wilbur turned to watch Y/n stare up at the stars, noting her lips twitch softly as she began to list constellations under her breath. He took her hand once more, looking up at the stars.

That was the last moment they shared together before he died.

Y/n opened her eyes, looking up at Dream, who held out a hand to shake. She sheathed her sword, nodding slightly before taking the jacket and reaching her hand out, clasping his palm in a firm shake.

The man chuckled from behind his mask, stepping backwards. “You’ll be hearing from me. Goodbye, Y/n.” With that he left, the girl left standing alone on the riverbank. She stood still for a beat before bending down, moving the items to her inventory, shrugging on the trench coat, and turning back to the cottage.

It was nearly burnt to the ground at this rate, the flowers outside catching. Y/n swore for a moment she could see a glimpse of a tall boy in a yellow sweater in the flames, but brushed it off. She made the trek over to her horse, climbing onto the saddle.

She cast one more look at the remains of the cottage before cracking the reins, riding away.

It was time to finish what Wilbur had started.

a/n: i wrote this before the philza lore where wilbur fabricated history in the letters, so just assume that wilbur was truthful in these letters and y/n arrived directly before the duel and the betrayal.

[little-diable]

Penny Lane Café - Tom Holland (smut)

Totally inspired by the Beatles song. Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: They had met at the Penny Lane Café, had fallen in love on a gloomy afternoon, months before she’d break his heart. Now, years later as she is asked to interview him, they seem to fall back into their routine, falling in love all over again.

Warnings: 18+, smut, sex, some flashbacks that are a bit angsty (but it’s pretty fluffy, at least for my standards lol)

Pairing: Tom Holland x interviewer!fem!reader (around 4.3k) 

She was running late.

Her breaths were falling short, heels clicking against the floor as she ran through the busy streets, cursing herself for going to bed that late at night, not able to find any rest. Not once would her mind stop spinning random scenarios, thinking of all the embarrassing things that could happen to her, all the words she could get twisted up. And now - a good few hours later - she felt just as exhausted and tired as she had yesterday evening.

London’s busy streets had never been her favorites, the crowds she’d have to push through - careful not to spill her coffee - the tourists that would stop and take pictures wherever they’d go, it was a true nightmare. Though today she couldn’t concentrate on them, it was her own damn fault. She was about to turn up late to one of her most important interviews of the year.

Tom Stanley Holland, the celebrity she had tried to erase from her memory was currently waiting for her in his lovely home, sipping his tea while watching the minutes fade by. It must have been years since they had last seen one another, bodies pressed together as the sun was rising above the horizon, lips swollen and bruised from all the passionate kisses they had shared.

A fling that played out as most of them did, one of them had caught feelings while the other one had decided to run away, with her mind focused on her career, not wanting to lay with a celebrity, not wanting to hear accusations of his fans spreading rumours that she was only successful because of Tom. So, she began to avoid him, not caring about her own broken heart, trying to put on a brave face as she began to build herself a strong career.

Maybe it was a sick joke fate was playing on her, pushing her into his life once again, giving her a chance to interview him, to chat about upcoming projects and the roles he was trying to get comfortable with. But maybe it was simply her bad karma, punishing her for being that selfish and egotistical, for breaking his heart without thinking twice about the consequences.

They hadn’t talked ever since, both didn’t know how to react to seeing one another again, how to act around one another, so, as she was lying awake in her apartment, staring at pictures of him, Tom was trying to come up with any words he’d say to her, asking for another chance, another shot to act on his feelings. He had always been too kind-hearted, supporting her decision no matter what, even if it meant getting his own heart broken in two.

Drops of sweat began to pool on her forehead, palms just as sweaty as she finally reached his home, patting her skin dry with a tissue she found in her bag. (Y/n) tried to put on a calm expression, lips pulled into a smile, she could do this.

The sound of her ringing his doorbell echoed through his home, followed by the sound of Tessa’s barking, paws scratching the floor, eagerly waiting for Tom to let the stranger in. He cleared his throat before he opened the door, he could do this. 

As his eyes met hers he couldn’t stop himself from reaching for her, pulling her flush against his chest, nuzzling his face into the crook of her neck. How he had missed her, the feeling of her body oh so perfectly pressed against his, the arms she’d wrap around his neck.

“Hi,” his breath crashed against her skin, allowing (y/n) to tighten her grip around his neck, repeating the word. Deep down it felt as if they had never parted ways, as if she had just returned from another hectic day at work, ready to wind down with Tom by her side, head placed on his chest, listening to his calm heartbeat.

“I’m sorry, come on in.”

A chuckle left him, closing the door behind them before he helped (y/n) out of her coat, watching her crouch down in front of Tessa, greeting the one that had stuck to his side for months by now. Lone nights would be spent with Tessa cuddling into his side, carefully studying an exhausted Tom, barking in approval as he’d practice lines. She was always right there, ready to lift his spirits before he’d lose himself in the darkness.

He had barely changed his home, a few new pictures were gracing his walls, next to new awards. The sight put a proud smile on her face. Tom watched her with curious eyes, trying to drown out the feeling of his rapid beating of his heart rumbling in his chest or how his blood rushed through his veins, cheeks already dark red and warm.

To make it easier to forget about her Tom had tried to downplay her beauty whenever he’d talk about her, though now as she was standing so close though yet so far he couldn’t stop himself from admiring her, wondering how she had ever given into his flirting, how she had ever settled for a man like him.

“Do you want some tea?”

(Y/n) didn’t spare the trembling of his voice a thought or perhaps she hadn’t picked up on it, too focused on her surroundings, the home she had last seen years ago.

“Yes, please.”

As the water was boiling they were trying to catch up, mindless small talk got shared as their minds took them back to the time they had spent together, the secrets they had shared as the moon was standing high, protecting all the secretive words that would roll off their tongues.

By now (y/n) couldn’t even remember why she had decided to leave him in the first place, how stupid and naive she had been, sidetracked by the lies she’d come up with to protect her own heart. Falling for a rising superstar hadn’t been her smartest move in the first place.

“Shall we start?”

She followed him into his living room, plopping down on the sofa they had made love on numerous occasions, leaving marks on her skin, sinking his teeth into the spot where her neck would meet her shoulders, a cheeky way to mark his territory. The woman he never got to truly call his own.

Tom shuffled closer, watched her reach for the tablet she’d protect with her life, scribbling down a few words before her eyes would find his, asking her first question. As if he was still the blushing teenager he had been years ago he stumbled over his words, clearing his throat as he got lost in her eyes, the pupils that told more stories than he ever could.

Her gaze would linger on his lips, writing down his answers without double-checking what she was perpetuating on the digital paper. She needed to savour the moment, needed to hold onto all the words he was softly speaking, not knowing when she’d get another chance to speak to him again.

It was rare for her to interview celebrities in their homes, she would always prefer to meet them in their office. But with Tom, she seemed to forget about all the rules she chose to live by, the guidelines she had set for herself.

Tom Stanley Holland had always been different.

“Was it worth it?”

His words lingered in the air, not giving her a chance to avert her eyes. Like a fish she kept opening and closing her mouth, gasping for air, the room was closing in on her, forcing her to answer the question she had dreaded, forcing her to admit to her mistakes.

“No, it wasn’t. I-” a shaky breath spilled from her lips, fingers stroking a strand of hair behind her hair, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have left you just like that.”

(Y/n) was waiting for his anger to spread through him, he had every reason to hate her, to punish her for being that foolish and stupid. But the only emotion that crashed upon him was yet another wave of sadness, wondering if the past years could have played out any different with her by his side. Tom had always loved with his whole heart, he would die for the one he chose to be with, even if they wouldn’t go to all the lengths for him.

But she would, she’d give her all for the man she had broken, she’d do anything to change the past, she’d give her all to start fresh, to meet him again as the rain was pouring down on them.

“Here, we can share if you want.”

The boy smiled at her, tilting his head towards his arm, waiting for her to link hers with his. Rain kept falling from the sky, adding to the gloomy atmosphere that lingered in the streets of London. He opened his umbrella, careful to shield her from the rain, protecting her from getting her clothes wet.

Wordlessly they seemed to understand one another, moving in the same direction, following the street, watching the dark clouds dance across the sky. She didn’t seem to notice how she unconsciously pressed herself closer to the boy that smiled at her, gladly wrapping his arm around her middle.

Both had met one another weeks ago, they’d visit the “Penny Lane Café” at the same time, staring at one another from afar, smiling as they bypassed one another’s table. Not once had they worked up their courage to actually begin a conversation, trying to communicate through their flirty glances.

Up until now.

“Do you want to stay for dinner? Harrison’s coming over, we could watch a movie together?”

Tom watched her struggle with her words, mind racing, debating whether she should give in if she should allow herself to stick around for a tad bit longer. But with a small shake of her head, she rose from the sofa, packing her bag, trying to avoid having to look at the heartbroken expression he wore, the way he pulled his lips into a tight line.

“I, uhm, there’s some work waiting for me, I’m sorry.”

“Of course,” he muttered his reply, helping her into her coat with a heavy heart. She fumbled with her fingers, took a few breaths till she finally lifted her gaze, staring at the man she’d dream of, the man whose picture was still gracing her phone background, even after all those years.

Both had been forced to grow up, all on their own, following the rapid changes of lives, but their emotions for one another hadn’t changed one bit and they probably never will.

Too many words were burning on her tongue, stomach cramping, working against the instinct to fling herself into his arms. She couldn’t break his heart again, didn’t deserve another chance just for her to mess with his mind again.

“Do you still have the same number?” Not once had he deleted her contact from his phone, still graced by the small red heart next to her name, reminding her of the day he had offered to escort her back home as rain was falling from the sky.

With a small “yes” leaving her she hugged him, inhaling his comforting scent, whispering  goodbye as she left his house, not looking back once.

--

Hours later he had finally reached for his phone, texting her with trembling fingers, asking (y/n) if he could see her again soon. Like an anxious child, he’d toss and turn in his bed, groaning into his pillow, passing time till she’d reply. His heartbeat matched the rhythm of him tapping his fingers against the dark screen of his phone, eyes not leaving it once.

20 minutes and 43 seconds later (y/n)’s reply had alighted his screen, Tom stared at the heart next to her name for a good few moments before he unlocked his phone. While he was reading her text over and over again she was typing away on her laptop, putting their interview into words, trying to switch her focus away from her phone.

Her heart had roared in her chest as his text had reached her, she couldn’t stop herself from giving into his begging, asking if they should meet up at their old coffee shop. Penny Lane, the beginning of their story.

(Y/n) could clearly picture the way Tom had looked as she had first seen him, still so young and oblivious, wondering what life would offer him, not able to guess what the upcoming years would bring, allowing him to live his dream. She had instantly been hooked, staring at the boy with dark eyes and brown hair, reading another book each time she’d see him, not feeling his curious gaze on her.

Another text of his came back to her, telling her that he’d wait for her in front of the shop on Tuesday morning, 9 am.

---

The days didn’t seem to fade by, dragging on for hours, mocking her for checking the time every few minutes, growing more nervous and anxious as Tuesday was creeping closer. Another chance life was offering her, allowing her to make things right, begging her to finally give in, to mend his broken heart back together.

On Tuesday morning she rose with a bright smile on her lips, making her way to the Penny Lane with her favorite music blasting from her earbuds, hyping her up. He spotted her frame from afar, arms crossed in front of his chest, eyes hidden behind a dark pair of sunglasses, perfectly matched to his baseball cap.

“Morning,” he pressed a kiss to her cheek, hands squeezing her sides, admiring the gorgeous woman right in front of him. Like a flower that had just shaken off the dew that stuck to her petals, she beamed at him, following him into the café, ready to order the same coffee she had been drinking for years.

Tom had voiced out her order before she could part her lips, grinning at her with a smirk pulling on his lips, proving to her that he still knew her like the back of his hand. Every little detail about (y/n) had been burned into his mind, a curse and a blessing he chose to live with, appreciating the random memories that would find their way back to him in the most unfortunate moments.

“Should we go for a walk?”

A comforting calmness lingered in the air, allowing the two of them to bask in one another’s company, hiding away from any fans that could recognise him, making their way through small streets only locals would use. Somewhere along the way, he’d reach for her hand, interlocking their fingers, scared that she’d slip right through his grasp once again.

Slipping away just like she had done years ago.

“I need to go, I’m sorry.”

Hastily she threw on her clothes, blinking away the tears that welled up in her eyes. Tom stared at her with a confused expression, trying to reach for her, to pull her back into his mattress. Seconds ago he had asked her if she would finally give in and be his girlfriend, staring at her with his dark eyes. She had ripped herself out of his grasp, fleeing from Tom and the words he had spoken.

“What’s wrong? (Y/n), stop, please.”

She jogged out of the room with Tom hot on her heels, crying out her name, not understanding why she was acting as if he was about to burn her alive.  

She had been scared, caught up in the moment, blindly falling for the man that was too good to be true. For months she had allowed herself to live with the lie she kept on distracting herself with, limbs getting tangled with his, living with Tom by her side.

But while Tom was ready to express his feelings, to bind himself to her (y/n) was ready to take her next step, to leave London for another job, finally getting a chance to prove her worth in the industry.

“Don’t leave, talk to me-” Tom pulled her back into his chest, feeling her tears drop onto his skin, body shaking from the sobs that wrecked through her. (Y/n) pressed a kiss to his shoulder before she softly pushed him away from her, no longer caring about the tears that ran down her cheeks.

“I’m sorry.”

He asked her about her time overseas, the jobs she had worked, the people she had interviewed, ready to soak it all up. Tom was patient with her, not as oblivious to her internal struggle as she may have thought, perfectly understanding the signals her body was sending him.

(Y/n) hadn’t expected Tom to be this understanding and accepting, deep down she had hoped that he’d finally lash out on her, to let his emotions run free, telling her how much she had hurt him. But he didn’t, he treated her like he had done from the moment the first syllable that had left his lips, shielding the beautiful girl from the pouring rain.

Another chapter of their story had just begun, allowing them to look for new words to make their readers forget about the way they had parted years ago, turning their backs onto one another, silencing every phone call that would echo through the night as tears would glisten on their cheeks.

For years it had felt as if there was no healing as if his heart would forever be broken in two, not able to find somebody else to keep his soul protected. But maybe it had always been her, maybe it was her destiny to mend his heart together once again, another try to let their heart rumble in sync.

And so, as the weeks passed by both managed to make themselves comfortable in one another's life, meeting up as the sun was saying goodbye to the day, falling asleep wrapped in one another’s arms as reruns of old shows played on his tv, tuning out the soft breaths that would spill from their lips.

Somehow most of her clothes would find their way back into his dresser, allowing (y/n) to stay overnight without having to worry about rushing home before another eventful day at work would wait for her, giving her an excuse to stay cuddled into his side as her eyelids felt heavier than ever.

Tom was strumming on his guitar as (y/n) watched him from the other side of his sofa, thoughts racing, head hurting from the memories that clouded her mind. Late at night as she wouldn’t find any sleep she’d be forced to think of the weeks, months, and years without him near, cursing her own decision, cursing her head for drowning out the soft words her heart would whisper, begging her to stay close to him.

“You’re staring,” Tom didn’t open his eyes, kept on playing with new chords he tried to master, smile spreading as she kicked his knee with her foot.

“Can I ask you something?”

Finally, he opened his eyes, brown pupils finding her wide ones, carefully placing the guitar down as he reached for her, pulling her into his side. (Y/n) tried to find the right words, figuring out how she should word out the question that has been bugging her since the morning of their interview.

“Why are you doing this, Tom? You shouldn't forgive me, not for leaving you just like that.”

How should you ever explain to the person you love that no matter what you’d always come back for them? How could you ever put into words the feeling that even if the world was ending you’d always run to them, to spend the last seconds in one another’s arms?

Tom let go of her hand and cupped her cheek, thumb tracing her skin, getting lost in the moment for a few seconds. He pressed his lips against hers as she parted them to ask Tom if he was alright, taking her breath away with the feeling of him kissing her. 

She had almost forgotten what kissing Tom Holland would feel like, how he’d brush his lips against hers, tongue running along her skin, begging to explain to her how he was feeling, doing what his words didn’t manage to do.

Their shared kiss felt like another punch to her stomach, how had she ever survived without feeling him near? Tom was like a drug she had been addicted to for years, no matter how long she’d manage to stay clean, no matter how long she’d turn her back on him, she’d fall right back into her old habits the seconds she got offered another taste.

“Does this answer your question?”

With a chuckle rumbling through him he pulled her with him, he ran his hand through her hair, not wanting to let go of her. They shared a few glances as they kept on stealing kisses, engulfed by a bubble of their own happiness. As if they were living through a cliché rom-com they couldn’t stop touching one another, falling deeper and deeper.

The second they rose from the sofa, stumbling into his bedroom Tom had her pressed against the door, kissing her breathless, pouring all emotions into the kiss while (y/n) tried to drown out her thoughts, the instinct to run before she could hurt him once again. But Tom didn’t give her a chance to even debate taking off, kissing his way down her throat, sucking on the spots that would send shivers down her spine.

“I’m sorry for hurting you.” She mumbled her apology against his lips, hands disappearing beneath the fabric of his shirt, tracing his sculpted abs. He shuddered, body arched into her touch, fingers running through her hair, “This is your chance to make it up to me, darling.”

A carefree laugh bubbled out of her, eyes squeezed shut as she allowed the moment to wash over her, tugging on his shirt to explore his body all over again. (Y/n) took her time, allowed herself to take him all in, like on the first night they had ever shared together, getting lost in one another’s touch.

She was writing a love poem with her hands, appreciating every inch of his glorious body, making up for all those years that had gone to waste. Tom gave her the time she needed to fall back into their own routine, hands getting impatient, trembling as they helped one another out of their clothes.  

“Don’t think I’ll ever get used to this,” Tom murmured against her neck, shoving (y/n) back against his mattress, hovering above her. His eyes traced up and down her now naked frame, kissing his way to her hardening nipples, sucking on them just the way she had always liked. How he had missed her moans, the soft breaths that would leave her as he’d push his hard cock through her wet slit, covering his skin with her arousal.

He ground his middle against hers, coaxing one sound of pleasure after another out of her. (Y/n) reached for his hand and placed it between them, cupping her sex, the aching spot that asked for his touch, the soft fingers she needed to feel on her clit, rubbing the bundle of nerves.

“Need you, please-” her words were falling short, eyes fluttering close. Once again he pushed his cock through her folds, smirking as an almost painful expression tugged on her features, impatiently waiting for him to give in, to stop his teasing. “What do you want, darling? Talk to me.”

Words kept on flooding from her lips, incoherent syllables filled his bedroom, trying to voice out where she needed him the most.

“Fuck me, Tom, ‘need to feel you.” She stopped him from reaching for a condom, telling him that she was still on the pill, blindly trusting the man that held her heart in his hands. Without having to think twice he pushed into her, walls swallowing his heavy cock, tightly gripping him. Their touches felt all too familiar, kisses got shared that reminded them of all those times they had locked themselves in this very room, fucking for hours on end.

His hips snapped against hers, burying himself deep inside of her, groaning as her tightness pulsed around him, begging him to fuck her into oblivion. Tom followed her movements, hands finding hers, lips connected as he began to pound in and out of her, making love to her as he had dreamt about all those years.

Both couldn’t worry about moving too fast, about ignoring any unspoken confessions they desperately needed to talk about. In this very moment, both could only care about their pleasure, the feeling of their bodies connecting this intimately. Waves of safety and appreciation rocked through them, pushing them closer to the edge.

A small whimper left her, teeth piercing into his lower lip, holding onto him as she let go, cumming on his cock. Her walls spasmed around him, pushing Tom closer into the arms of his own orgasm, relieving himself into her tightness, painting her walls white. 

Both didn’t dare move, scared that the magic that has kept them in their hold would let go of them, pushing them back into reality, reminding them of all the problems that needed to be spoken about.

“Promise me you won’t run.”

Tom rolled off her, instantly pulling (y/n) into his chest, kissing her sweaty forehead. She didn’t reply, only let out a content hum, tilting her head upwards to meet his eyes. Another kiss got shared, fingers tracing marks on one another’s body. No longer did she feel the need to run, no longer did she hear her inner voice speaking to her, asking her to run before she could hurt him again.

For the first time in her life (y/n) felt safe and protected, ready to spend her days by his side, loving the boy she had met at the Penny Lane Café.

Please like and reblog if you’ve enjoyed reading this, message me and talk to me about your opinions, I’d love to chat with you about this imagine. <3

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[royalydamned]

SOAKED

|Mycroft Holmes x Reader|

|AN|: I haven't written one shot, let alone something x reader in like? two years? maybe? Reader is written as non-specified gender and is only referred to as "you" , so no pronouns for reader. My love for Mycroft suddenly hit me like a truck after years so I had to contribute.

Summary: Bit of rain, whole lot of feelings, and one love confession. Maybe storms aren't that bad, if they show you that you are worthy of love after all. In Mycroft's case for sure.

Mycroft sighed as he rubbed his tired eyes. The clock on the wall in front of him showed early afternoon, yet cold and darkness spread outside of his windows as the sun hid behind heavy clouds early in the morning. Peaceful but gloomy day. Still, the heavy pounding of rain against the glass of widows and road, as well as the rustle of the wet trees in the wind was oddly peaceful and comforting.  He had a hard day of work behind him, and another evening of more work ahead, just another weak attempt to distract himself from a foul mood he was put in because of the complications that came with the weather. 

Important plans, well, to him at least. He was supposed to get to see you.

A busy man he was, that wasn't even up for a question. His schedule tightly packed with meetings, paperwork and more than occasional fixing of his brother's mess, or just simply preventing it, it left a very little time for pleasant distractions such as a quiet time spend with delicious cup of tea and your sweet smile. Today was not the day for distraction it seemed, certainly not as big as your company, that left him flustered and distracted hours after you said your goodbyes. 

Your meetings were always a special occasion, even if they were short, brief and unfrequent because of how far you lived, Mycroft always cherished them for weeks following, replaying your lovely laugh and almost sparkling eyes in his head as he woke up and texted you a good morning message, or as he layed down to sleep and wished you sweet dreams. 

He might have...cared. For you, your happiness, your well being. Much more than he would ever admit, to others that is. Inside his own mind, he knew far too well how utterly enamored he was with you. 

The eldest Holmes wasn't the one to act, God forbid act upon his feelings. He could watch you, with crushing ache in his heart and deep longing as you always talked about your newest acquaintanceship, secretly wishing you held the same sentiments as he did. 

You never seemed to have a shortage of suitors at your heels, one better looking that the other, with charming smiles and magnetic personas. Likeable, social, just as you deserved. While he--, well, there was no need to ruin his day further with self-describtions. He knew very well how others percieved him and how he looked. Sherlock never failed to remind him if he occasionally forgot. 

Mycroft Holmes was aware, that he was nothing anyone would have ever wanted. 

The relationship the two of you had now was more than he could ask for, in all honesty. Time spent together, secrets shared in quiet moments and deep trust you held, it was enough. It was all he needed, if he still could watch over you. 

Outside a thunder struck, pulling him from the spiral of thoughts that he always seemed to fall into in the loneliest moments. With a deep sigh he stood up from behind his desk, eyes burning from how long he stared into the bright computer screen, and made his way downstairs into the liquor cabinet. He deserved a small break. 

His house was dark, almost like a nighttime had fallen outside, but he didn't bother turning on the lights, instead he carefully climbed down the stairs, gripping the wooden railing at the side for security. By the end of the staircase, he deeply regretted his foolish decision, but before he could make even one step towards the nearest lightswitch, a doorbell stopped him. 

Confused, he opened the door, only praying not to see his younger brother and his babysitter standing outside, as he had no intention nor the mood to put up with his obnoxious antics this afternoon, but instead his eyes landed on you. 

A soft surpised gasp escaped his mouth as he saw you on his doorstep, shivering with cold, your clothes completely soaked, excess droplets falling on your face and the tiles outside, and arms cluthing yourself for the tiniest bit of warmth. 

"|Y/N|?" He asked in quiet disbelief, almost as if he thought  he was imagining you. 

"We agreed to meet after too long, like hell a bit of rain would stop me," you replied with a victorious grin, lips almost purple from the cold and your whole body visibly trembling. 

"Foolish," he muttered pulling you gently inside from the atrocious weather. "You are completely soaked."

"You apparently have that effect on me," you smirked, the witty remark escaping your lips without control, and Mycroft was glad you couldn't see the embarrassed shade his cheeks caught. "No, but really, I walked most of the time. You know the tube is too far away from your place, and I didn't have enough money for a cab, I figured it isn't going to be that bad."

"It was." 

"It was," you agreed, rubbing your hands together in quick motions, trying to gain the feeling back into your fingers. 

"You should change or else you'll catch cold, come." You let him grab your hand, his skin pleasantly warm against your cold numbed one. He tried to think about anything else rather than the feeling of your connected hands, there were more important things now than such minor distractions. The image of you walking outside in the storm, just to see him. Just to be with him. It sent the most pleasant feeling into his stomach, the idea that maybe, he was almost as important to you as you were to him. But that was nothing but a wishful thinking, a desire of a naive man, and that is not who Mycroft was. There was no need for false hopes and embellished reality. 

He lead you into his bedroom, the idea of what it would normally mean coloring his cheeks, but he ignored those intrusive thoughts, focusing on helping you warm up in any way possible. "You have to change into dry clothes. Mine should be sufficient for now." 

"Alright." Came your voice from behind him, and he turned around to see your topless form. 

His breath hitched as he quickly dropped his gaze onto the floor, trying to keep the image he saw out of his mind, out of respect for you. No matter how badly he wished to remember it. Your skin glistening with water, body hiding under the clothes he strangely found himself craving, too primal and illogical for himself to admit. It was too hard keeping his head clear, with the sight from a few seconds ago burned into his brain, unable to ignore, unablet to forget, twisting his inside it certain ways he rarely felt before. 

"I will wait outside," he stated finally, pushing the neatly folded pile of clothing towards you without looking up in the slightest, and left the room. 

 When he shut the door after him, he finally felt like he could breathe easily again. Leaning against the doorframe, replaying the moment again and again, against his own better judgemnet, without the willpower to stop himself, and gulped heavily, trying to get rid of the strange sensation inside of him. 

It was like his feelings weren't enough. Like the fact that he, after all, wasn't too different to others, as he was so deeply affected by the helpless emotions of love and how deeply he was hurting with every moment without you. So depended on your presence bringing him joy. Now he steeped so low as physical attraction, pure desire of your touch and your body. He would mock himself if he could, you were just too much. 

A soft click of the doorknob caught his attention, and stayed almost staring, asking himself over and over again, why does he love the sight of you in his clothes so much. 

You hugged yourself tightly, still trembling significanty, but now at least rid of the wet clothes, and smiled up at him, with warmth only you could muster at such a moment. "This is much better, thank you. Sorry for such complications." 

"Nonsense," he huffed almost annoyed, like your health would ever be a complication. To him. Ridiculous. "Come, I think fire and a nice cup of tea will warm you up." Placing a hand on the small of your back, he led you back downstairs, where the big fireplace was. The close proximity the gesture put you in flustered you both, but Mycroft didn't want to let go. And neither did you. 

You turned to him, looking up into his face, smiling mischieviously when he caught your eyes. "Don't you have anything stronger?" 

The corner of his mouth twitched upwards, strongly liking your idea. "Your wish is my command."

Downstairs, he found the thickest blanket he had, tightly wrapping it around your shoulders, and you snuggled into its comfort immediately, watching him struggle to start a fire. 

"I suppose you aren't the one for camping," you mused with a small smile, giggling shortly at his grimace. 

"My, how could you possibly deduce that?" A tiny flame sparked inside, dacing across the thick logs of wood before disappearing under them, and growing rapidly. Mycroft stood up from the ground, dusting off the dirt and ashes from his hands and clothes, and looked rather proudly at his work. 

"I guess I was wrong. You are full of surprises, Mr. Holmes." A warm light from the fireplace illuminated your features, the growing flames sparkling in your eyes, and Mycroft stayed just to watch. He didn't believe in perfection, that concept was unachievable and he never believed in such terms, but as he watched you in this  moment, hair frizzy as they were drying from the water, the messy strands falling into your face, and just  then as he watched the orange light color your skin with small smile on your lips , he though you were the only one that came close. 

"Well," he inhaled sharply, pulling himself from the love-sick trance, and smiled back at you, the expression coming off more forced than it really was. "I shall go and fetch us something to drink." 

Later he came back with two short glasses and bottle of a still unopened liquor bottle, sealed with silver paper and a stamp of the highest quality, almost unnoticable smile playing on his lips as he made his way back to you, where you set cross-legged on the little carpet right in front of the fire. He copied your position, awkardly folding his legs, your knees almost touching, and placed the two glasses into the space between you. 

"I'm just," he started unsurely, pouring each of you a glass with impressive precision in the amount, and looked at you again, almost shyly. "I'm very glad we got to spend our evening together after all."

"I'm very glad as well Mycroft," you answered, a fond look in your eyes as you looked at the man in front of you and raised your glass in a silent gesture. He repeated the motion, nodding his head courtly your direction, and took a small sip, watching you in astonishment as you drank it all at once. "Getting warmer already," you laughed, watching the smile on his face widen at your comment and poured you another glass. 

You set together for what felt like hours, and maybe it was, in comfortable silence by the melody of the cracking fire beside you, the bottle almost fully drank and the personal space between you long gone. Your feet were tangled together in the middle, knees pressed against each other, both supporting your heads on your hands as you talked, with blissful smiles and faces almost too close. 

Mycroft adjusted his posture, resting his chin on his connected hands supported on his thighs as he watched you attentively, noticing and drinking in every detail of your face, your voice your tipsy mannerisms. He could never tear his gaze off you, you were captivating, like a mysterious painting hanging in the gallery, attracting everyone to look, to try to figure it out, and know everything about it. But he knew everything about you, and still he wanted to learn even more. Secrets you never told him, things he simply couldn't just see. Every morning he wanted to see your face, to give him the strenght to go through it, and ever evening he wanted to come back to it, because you felt like home. And Mycroft hated himself for being so melodramatic. This wasn't him, all these thoughts, all these emotions, they were stronger than his healthy judgement, which was already clouded by alcohol. 

 "Wasn't your partner worried, just going outside in such a storm?" You huffed out a breath, both amusement and annoyance mixing in that display of emotion, and Mycroft quite couldn't place, what it meant. 

"We broke up several days ago."

"I am very sorry to hear that," he said genuinely, even though inside he felt selfish joy that he won't have to hear about yet  another perfect match for you, another reminder of everything he wasn't. And could never be. Nothing you wanted nor needed. 

"Don't be, nobody I met yet was really for me," you mumbled, dropping your eyes into the empty glass in your hands, brows furrowed in deep thought.

"Why is that?" He took the last sip from his glass and carefully set it on the coffee table by his side, his full attention at you again. 

"When you meet so many people, good-looking, charming and kind people, but none of them fits you, none of them is right because you set impossible standard, almost unachievable by most people." You set aside your own glass, shifting even closer to him, hearing how he took in a sharp breath, hesitantly straightening his back. 

"That must happen when one deserves perfection," he answered looking longinly into your eyes, unable to look away. You were truly hypnotising, the only thing he could look at hours without  a break and never get tired. The only person he grew to love so deeply. Truly one of a kind. 

"Oh, not perfection, heavens no," you laghed, throwing your head back a little at that, and he still couldn't look away. Why was it so amusing, someone as perfect, as flawless, deserved nothing less than the same. "The thing being, that it's too far from perfection, and in a world where people desire nothing more than to eliminate their flaws, something perfectly imperfect is unachievable."

You leaned closer to him, licking your lips, already pink and sweet again, without realizing, and he almost lost his control. Swallowing heavily, he forced himself to look back into your eyes, trying to forget about the questions appearing in his mind. How would your lips possibly taste? How would it feel having you so close? Heating you up with his own body, blanket too long forgotten?

He couldn't think that way. He had to collect himself, but he didn't know how. Subconciously, he leaned in as well, the gap between your faces just inches apart, your breaths almost shared in one, and it felt like he was dreaming. If that was the truth, he never wanted to wake up.  

"They all lacked just one thing though," you whispered, placing your hand on his leg for support, making Mycroft to freeze completely, too disturbed by the contact and the overwhelming heat it sent through his body to think about anything else. 

"That being?" he forced himself to say, his throat tight and voice quiet, almost as if he had lost his breath. 

"They just weren't...you." A simple statement, a plain sentence bearing more meaning than most conversations he had been part of. His gaze abruptly shot back up, cathing he own almost instantly, but no words made their way out. He couldn't talk nor move, shock too obvious on his features, that even a child would know. 

His hands moved on his own, the other times brilliant brain, his biggest pride during his whole life now shut off by a few simple words, his body moving without a single though. Your cheek was warm already, burning hot under his skin as he gently caressed it, moving out a fallen strand from your face, tracing your cheekbone with his thumb like you were the most fragile thing in the world. 

"May I kiss you?" you breathed out, your eyes looking up at him, sparkling with emotion he thought he would never see in them, and he nodded, fulfilling himself the one wish that seemed too impossible for a realistic man to hold. 

Your lips met in the middle, slow and hesitant as you both silently prayed you wouldn't wake u in the middle of the nigh and find out it was yet another dream. 

He sighed deeply into the kiss as you moved to sit in his lap and deepened the kiss, pressing your lips against his more roughly, more needily, hands carefully placed on his neck and your whole body so deliciously pressed against his. So hot and soft, an opposite picture to your arrival, sinding the most pleasant shivers through his whole body with every slight movement in his arms. Mycroft's arms ended up wrapped around your waist, tightly cluthing your body to his like he was afraid you would leave. He couldn't let go. He never wanted to let go. 

After a short while, seconds, maybe minutes, he didn't know, the best moments of his life, you pulled away, only slightly to cath your breath, and rested your own forehead against his. He could smell the rain in your hair and your unique scent all around him, and he wanted to remember it all. Every single detail, to replay it, to dream it. To live it. 

"I love you," he said quietly, too long of a silence from his last words, and finally gather up the courage to open his eyes and look at you again. At your glowing eyes and wide smile, at your messy hair and body tangled in his blanket, in his own gaze, you were the perfect everyone seeked. 

"I love you too Mycroft."

And he never wanted to hear a sentence repeated so much as in that moment. Fortunately, you would never get tired of saying it. 

[acapelladitty]

Mouth: Part Ten (nsfw)

Pairing: Heisenberg/Female Reader

Warnings: punishment, spanking, rough sex, dirty talk, cockwarming, come marking.

A bored mind makes stupid decisions and your decision to wind up the Lord of the factory as he worked on a fresh project within his main invention room fell into that category. Idle hands were most definitely the devil’s plaything and your devil of choice was pointedly ignoring you.

“Can I help with anything?” You ask, standing behind the metal chair which he preferred to work from as you whisper the question into his ear, ensuring that you are as close as possible without physically touching him. He’d been locked in this room for hours and it was about time for some distraction.

“No.”

“Would you like me to hold something for you?”

“No,” he repeated, twisting his head away from your lips as he focused on his task, “now fuck off, please.”

Unwilling to budge, you ignore his pointed tone.

“How about I make us something to eat?” You purr, moving forward so that you are kneeling to his side, keeping out of the direct path of his gaze, which was focused on the metal floating above his workbench, “A late night snack. Something,” you pause, “delicious.”

“Not right now.”

His voice was firm as his attention refused to leave the pieces of metal before his eyes as they bent into unnatural shapes at his whim. The metal looked red-hot in some areas as it was folded into various positions, slotting together before coming apart in rapid succession.

“Come on, my Lord,” the words are little more than a whine as you stand again and run a hand along the firm muscle of his thigh, “your subject requires your attention for a little while. It’s been so long since you’ve serviced her.”

As your finger moves to brush lightly against his crotch, a high-pitched squeal from the intricately woven floating cogs were the only indication that something had went wrong, even as a loud “Ah, fuck!” escaped his throat.

At his exclamation, the metal gears before him seemed to contract for a moment before exploding in place and, as you ducked away from the grating noise and bright light, a sharp pain registered against your hip as you recognised his open palm shoving at your body to remove you from the danger zone.

His impressive strength matched with his momentary panic proved too much for your body and you found yourself being thrown to the floor, your ass colliding against the hard stone making you release a loud grunt of pain as he stood up from his work seat.

Surveying the residual mess of his work, his lips pulled back to bare his teeth as he stomped his foot in open frustration. His coat flared behind him with the movement and you watch the fabric settle as his hands slam into his hips.

“A whole day of work, up in fucking smoke!”

Oops.

“All because of you and your goddamn hole!”

Ah, shit.

There was a genuine anger in his expression as he turned and approached your fallen body, the harshness of his gaze causing your heart to stutter for a moment as you froze like a rabbit caught in headlights. The smart thing would be to give him some space and scarper away but as his presence loomed over you, you knew that escaping was out of the question.

“Would it help if I said sorr-”

Your words were cut off in a sharp gasp as he moved quickly to scoop you up from the floor and hold you to his side with one arm as he moved back towards his work seat.

Dropping into his makeshift throne, he pins you to the floor between his thighs and your knees crash off the hard flooring uncomfortably as you gaze up at him. His eyes are covered by his glasses but you can sense the anger behind them and you attempt to look as apologetic as possible, hoping to avoid his wrath.

“I said I was sor-”

“No, shut the fuck up.” He cut you off once again, his hand coming to cover your mouth to prevent any further speech, “You’ve done it now, kitten. A whole day of wasted time and resources all because you wanted to play.” His tone was curt, irritation barely restrained, and it causes a fresh spark of anxiety within you, “Well, you have my attention now and I hope you’re happy with what you’ve earned.”

His fingers are warm against your mouth, and you slip your tongue out as much as possible to flick at them playfully. The damage was done but you knew how to appease him, and you shuffle your head forward and tilt your head towards his groin in a show of penance. He was not a man to deny himself a free blowjob and you were certain that would take the heat out of him for the moment.

“Nice try,” he growled, pulling at your hair to force your head back away from his crotch, “but that’s not going to work, buttercup. You have ruined my plans and no amount of head is going to get you out of this punishment.”

“Let’s see,” he hummed, one hand wrapped around your hair while the other traced soft lines across your exposed throat, “I’ve been in here since 6pm and it’s now midnight. That’s six hours. I will also need to source three new gears for this manipulation so let’s make that the multiplier.” His expression is thoughtful as he considers the math, “Brings us to eighteen so let’s round it to a solid twenty. Twenty strikes as a fair punishment”

Unable to speak, you allow your eyes to widen in recognition at his words.

“Think you can handle twenty strikes? Shall we find out?”

It has been a while since he’d reddened your skin in such a way and there were alternative punishments which you enjoyed much less so you nod your consent, the small movement making the burn in your scalp worse.

“Would the little slut like the switch or the palm?” He asked, releasing your mouth to allow you to answer. The switch, a thin metal bar he could fashion at a moment’s notice was much more painful than his hand and the fact that he was even giving you the option was a good sign, “Or should I choose for her?” He continued.

“The palm, my Lord.” You answer, eyes downcast in a show of penance as you throw in his title to sweeten the deal and play your role, “Your hand should be my punishment.”

“Good choice.” He grunted and you inhale in surprise as his hands grip your upper arms in a tight grasp so that he can lift you from your knees and place you over his knees.

Your stomach lay against his firm thighs as your feet plant themselves on the ground, giving yourself some purchase as he runs his hands up your bare legs. A shudder trails down your spine at the softness of his touch, knowing what it was a prelude to, and you press your thighs together as his commanding voice booms out from above you.

“Place your hands on the legs of the chair and if you let go I’ll double your punishment.”

You follow his command, wrapping your palms around the thick metal of the chair legs and you can feel the blood rushing to your ears as your head remains upside down. Your breasts hung free just past the edge of his thighs but they remain covered by the shirt which still clung to your upper half as you settled yourself as comfortably as you could against him.

The warm air of the room hit your exposed lower half as your skirt was pulled up over your ass. His hand felt huge against your skin as he immediately palmed your ass roughly through your panties, calloused fingers running along the globe of your ass to admire it before the real fun began. A soft whoosh of movement caught your attention and you tilt you head in time to see his hand grasp around the hilt of his knife and a thrill of nervous anticipation rockets through you.

Before you can question its use, you feel the dull edge of the blade against your hip as the sharp edge sliced through the thin fabric of your panties before moving to the other side to repeat the process. With a flourish, he drops the knife to the floor and rips your underwear from you, the aggressive pull leaving a warmth in its wake as it dragged across your trapped skin.

Now fully exposed, you can do little but keep your hands clasped around the legs of his metal throne as you await his next move.

“Count for me.” He demands, his voice rough with undeniable lust as he adjusts his knees to bear your weight comfortably, “And if you fuck up the count then I start over. Understand?”

“Yes, my lord.”

The slight whisper of air as his hand draws through the air is the only indication you have that he’s started as he targets the exposed curve of your ass.

SMACK.

A grunt escapes you at the impact; it was painful but not unbearable as he was obviously trying to gauge holding back his impressive strength since a full-power hit would probably do some irreparable damage. Regardless, you hold your position steadily as your fingers remain clasped around the metal chair.

“One.”

SMACK.

Stronger than the first, the blow takes the breath from you as you jerk in place. Positioned in the same spot as the first, you can already feel the growing heat from your ass as the second smack only adds a fresh sting to the underlying discomfort.

“Two.”

“Good girl.” He grunts, pausing in his blows to run the tips of his fingers along your slit and you’re ashamed at the slickness there after only two smacks but your soft sigh turns into a quick inhalation as he swats at your cunt roughly, encouraging you to spread your thighs, “Are you ready to scream for me, sweetheart?”

He doesn’t give you time to respond before his hand once again connects harshly with your ass, the heat there barely dulling before it was inflamed again and, even as the blow pulls a pained gasp from your lips, you push your ass out to meet him, encouraging him.

“Three.”

Building into a steady rhythm, he continues to decorate your ass with patches of red as his hand abuses the flesh there. Groans and sharp squeals are all you can manage between counted numbers as the pain grew more apparent with every hit; the flesh growing more irritated as it continued to be assaulted without pause.

Continuing your count as each new smack sent fresh waves of heat across your ass, you let out a high squeal of surprise as he angles his hand downwards for one hit, the tips of his fingers catching the edge of your cunt as you stiffen in place.

“Thirteen!”

The pain in your flesh, the sting and heat which only grew with every hit, was intense but with it came an undeniable pleasure which coated your thighs with your own juices and made your core ache for stimulation. Every harsh-sounding slap was intercut with your own sharp yelps and needy whines as he alternated random strikes by pausing to grope roughly at your stinging flesh, kneading it between savage fingers to test the sensitivity.

You can feel his hardness pressing against your side as you remain in your prone position. Soft grunts escaped his own throat with every blow and were occasionally punctuated by soft mutterings which were too low to be picked up.

One particularly harsh blow catches you across the globes of your ass and fresh tears spring into your eyes as you give a pained yelp. The pain overshadowed the pleasure as the unyielding sting of your flesh and infernal heat seemed to spread across your body, making your limbs tight and your fingers claw against the metal of the chair leg.

“Nineteen.”

“One more, kitten.” He informed you, his hand coming to rest atop the back of your head as he pulled your head back, surveying the pained look in your expression.

SMACK.

Squeezing your eyes closed as his hand once again struck the searing skin of your ass, which you could guess was a stunning shade of red given the heat you could feel, you cry out the final number.

“Twenty!”

Having served your punishment, his hands are quick to wrap around your waist and pluck you from his lap as he deposited you in your earlier position between his thighs. Your heels dug in painfully to the heated flesh of your ass and you whine at the rough contact as he takes your face within his hands; the heat from his left hand, the hand used to punish you, clear against your cheek.

“Well done,” he drawled, and you can see that most of his anger has dissipated, replaced with a strange mixture of pride and obvious lust, “but we’re not over just yet.”

His hands are quick to unzip his fly as he pulls free his cock, the length looking painfully hard as it juts free of his opened slacks, and he pauses to give it a leisurely stroke.

Releasing himself, he secures his hands around your upper arms and pulls you up into his lap so that the length of his cock is resting against the cleft of your core as he wraps an arm around your waist. The pressure of his groin against your abused ass is uncomfortable but bearable as you lean forward slightly to take the pressure off.

“I’m going to fuck you, kitten,” his voice is rough and low, “and I’m going to do it right here in my work chair. This is the second part of your punishment.”

Not quite seeing the negative here, you nod demurely just to play into his game.

“Of course, my Lord.”

His hand slips into the space between you as he cups your mound.

“Tell me what hole you want me to use,” he growls in your ear as two of his fingers glide across your slit before sinking knuckle-deep within you, “and I’m not going easy so make sure you choose wisely and tell me why. You need to earn your forgiveness and I want to make sure you feel it.”

“My cunt,” you gasp out your choice, pressing down on his fingers as they probe you roughly, your body delighted at finally receiving some stimulation, “your thick cock forces me to stretch around it and it hurts.”

Only partially true but you know it’s what he wants to hear.

He removes his fingers and uses his hand to brush his cock against your slit, wetting his tip with your juices as he prepares to enter you and a shiver runs down your spine with anticipation.

You don’t have long to wait as he impales himself within you with an animalistic grunt; the unexpected fullness and force of his insertion as he buries himself fully drawing a low scream of pained pleasure from your lips.

Making no effort to move just yet, his free hand comes to clutch at the fabric of your shirt, tearing the buttons there with one swift movement and exposing your chest to his leering gaze as he pushes the torn fabric to the side.

Capturing your nipple between his teeth, the worries the sensitive nub there for a moment and the sensation is so intense that your fingers snake through his grey hair and pull at it almost desperately. A move which earns you a low growl as he repeats the move with your other nipple, clearing enjoying the sensation of being sheathed within you as he torments your chest.

He begins to move within you, using his strength to pull you free of him until only the tip of his cock remains inside before plunging within you once again. It’s pleasure and pain rolled into one as the stretch mixes with the wonderful sensations of his cock brushing your most sensitive spots and you whine out your anguish.

Writhing against him, the pressure of his thrusts is almost too much as it feels like he is trying to split you in half with his cock. Every nerve within you is firing off and your legs hang limply to the sides of the chair, toes curling with every powerful stroke, as you allow yourself to be used. His hands on your hips prevent you from moving too much but you push back against him as much as possible, movements frantic as the burn in your ass only adds to the growing pleasure alighting across your body.

Rough growls are the only noises coming from him and they mingle with the whines and moans which you can’t prevent from escaping your own throat. Particularly when he resumes his assault on your chest, his stubble rubbing against your breasts as he nips savagely at the sensitive flesh there with sharp teeth, his cock never slowing in its brutal pace.

Your orgasm almost catches you off-guard as one of his fingers come to rest against your clit, rubbing the bundle of nerves there with an almost cruel pressure. Combined with the delightful stretch of your core plus the torment of your chest, it was too much and your vision seemed to white out for a moment as the band of arousal snapped; your hips snapping against his groin as your fingers clawed desperately at the leather of his coat which covered his back.

“I love it when you buck against me, kitten.” He snarled against your neck as he continued to thrust within you, chasing his own pleasure with little regard for how overstimulated it left you, “So wet and warm, and so fucking tight just for me.”

A garbled sequence of agreements is all you can manage as your body spasmed against his, his cock continuing to draw out your pleasure far beyond what it had to as the waves of ecstasy seemed unending. But even through your euphoria, you can feel the tell-tale jerking of his cock as it seemed to twitch within your walls and you knew he was close.

Just at the point of no return, he pulled his cock free of your core and the sudden emptiness drew a mournful wail from your lips as he instead drew his hand across his cock frantically. It took less than a moment before his orgasm hit, his release arcing high between you as it splattered across your exposed stomach and chest; one drop catching you just above your right nipple as he released a low, guttural groan at the sight.

Your legs were still twitching from the aftershocks and the burn in your ass seemed more intense than before, obviously disturbed by your writhing against his groin, as you fought to catch your breath.

A gasp stole your breath as you felt his fingers against your core once again but before you could question him, you felt him slip within you once again, his cock still hard but having wilted slightly due to his release.

At your questioning glance, he spoke.

“You’re going to wear those trophies until I say otherwise,” he growled as he indicated the mess of his release, spattered across your chest, “and if you touch them I’ll bind your hands to this chair until I am finished.”

“Finished?” You ask, not quite understanding his intent. His cock was welcome within you and you couldn’t help but clench around it as you once again enjoyed the fullness.

“I need to work,” his grunt was low and, with a flick of his hand, a handful of scrap rose from behind his chair and moved towards his workbench, “and since you can’t be trusted to not interrupt then you can stay here. Exactly where I can see and feel you.”

Thinking of your earlier boredom, you can see the appeal in his command and you nod your consent.

“Think of it as serving your Lord by keeping his cock nice and warm while he works.”

Leaning forward, you lay your head against the wide expanse of his shoulder as you settle against his body. Your body feels wonderfully used and abused and this position allows you to take the pressure off you ass while also providing a very comfortable resting place. His cock within you doesn’t move and you don’t imagine it’ll be too long before he gives in to the temptation of another round.

“Sounds good to me.”

He chuckles at the enthusiasm and settles into his task.

His attention is focused beyond you, on the metal which he manipulates with unmatched skill, but with every slight jostle of your bodies you can feel the fullness of his cock as it remains sheathed within you. His punishment had been fair and you knew that the sight of your reddened flesh would inspire him to lust for days until it healed up.

He loved leaving his little marks on you, be it with his hands, teeth, or even his cum. It was a sign of ownership that you allowed; just as he allowed you to claw your ownership into his back or bite it into the flesh of his chest and thighs. It was important that you gave as good as you got as neither of you could stand weakness.

Your thoughts were broken as a soft humming emitted from his chest, some unknown tune which you couldn’t place, and you sighed against him, settling in to the rare moment of pure intimacy.

Full fic available on AO3 @ DittyWrites

[perseabethj]

i don't really have an explanation (iv.)

Percy didn’t let go of Annabeth’s hands once they entered in the apartment. It’s not that he thought she couldn’t defend herself if need be, but he didn’t fully trust his classmates -at least, not drunk. He hadn’t wanted to come to the party, but his friends had convinced him that, as part of the swim team, he couldn’t escape socializing forever. He was happy enough with his small circle of friends, but they had let him know that, while they were also happy being just the four of them, they wouldn’t mind surrounding themselves with the popular crowd every once in a while. Percy had felt a little bit guilty because of denying them that, and Annabeth had told him that going out once wouldn’t hurt. He had decided to trust her (he’d been doing that for years and that was the only reason as to why he was still alive), and thus had told Chris Parker, his team’s captain, that he would maybe show up at his party that weekend. It was Halloween, after all, and he felt a little bit silly staying at home during his senior year of high school. He knew high school parties could get a little bit wild, but the moment the door opened and music filled his ears, he was starting to regret his decision.

‘’I know that this is my first party and all that, but are guys supposed to walk around shirtless? Are they even pretending to wear a costume?’’ Annabeth asked to no one in particular, raising her eyebrows.

‘’We’re talking about the sport jocks,’’ Kayla reminded her with a pointed look, pulling at her cheerleader uniform; she'd never be caught dead with one of this seriously, but her sister had been a cheerleader years ago and Kayla wasn't about to spend forty dollars on a costume she would never wear again.

‘’Hey!’’ Percy exclaimed. These were his teammates, after all (he could also recognise some of the guys from the soccer team and some cheerleaders arounds, and he was pretty sure there were also some marching band kids, but he wasn’t about to point that out, since that would only support Kayla’s point).

‘’Don’t act all offended,’’ Annabeth told him, ‘’you spend half of your time at camp shirtless as well.’’

‘’I spend half of my time at camp at the beach, and the rest of my time I’m sweating my ass off because of you or Clarisse, so be thankful I’m wearing my shirt that half of the time and I don’t go to the dining pavilion naked.’’

‘’While most of Cabin 10 wouldn’t probably mind, Mr. D would turn you into a dolphin the moment he saw your naked butt.’’

‘’That he would,’’ Percy answered, laughing as he let go of her hand to wrap his arm around her shoulder. He leaned into her ear playfully and said, ‘’don’t tell anyone, but I miss the guy.’’

His friends looked at them as if they were crazy, but knew better than to question them.

‘’I need something to drink,’’ Matthew told the group. ‘’Do you want anything?’’

Percy and Annabeth shook their heads, choosing to wait before drinking anything at all (Percy also didn’t want to explain to his friends why he didn’t drink alcohol, and Annabeth knew that). Louis said something that sounded foreign to Percy -seriously, a vodka with a twist on the rocks? Couldn’t he simply say vodka? And did he really have to order it with a twist? He’d never understand rich kids-, and Matthew gave him a thumbs up, which was the only thing he could do with the foam cheer gloves he was wearing along with his baseball player costume.

‘’I’ll come with you,’’ Kayla said, looping her arm around his and dragging him across the hall.

Percy looked around the party, trying to decide what to do. He didn’t have to look at Annabeth to know she was doing the same thing, and he also knew she felt more uncomfortable than he did, since she knew nobody but him and his friends.

‘’I just wanted to let you know you made me lose a bet,’’ Louis suddenly said.

They looked questioningly at him and he pointed at them and their clothes.

‘’I had bet that you wouldn’t wear matching costumes,’’ he said. ‘’I didn’t take you for the kind of couple who does, even if you are all lovey-dovey. You both seem too mature for that.’’

‘’We didn’t plan it,’’ Annabeth told him. ‘’I mean, we both knew we’d be wearing this, but we didn’t really plan it. Percy didn’t know if he wanted to come until the last minute and we had no costumes at home, and we both suck at any kind of DIY. We had this at home from before.’’

‘’From before?’’ Louis asked, an eyebrow raised.

‘’We organised a Greek party at camp once,’’ Percy quickly said. ‘’We kept the clothes in case, and they have thankfully come in handy. An actual toga looks more dignified than a sheet, which was what my mum thought we’d be wearing when we told her about this.’’

‘’You have knifes from before?’’

Annabeth laughed and looked at the knife strapped to her arm. She had used the Mist to make sure her dagger stayed like one and Percy had complained that he couldn’t do that. She had then reminded him that walking around with a three-feet-long bronze sword wouldn’t be the wisest thing to do, considering that, if he were to hit somebody accidentally with it, everyone would know it wasn’t plastic when it simply moved through them, which was why he was weaponless.

‘’Who says it’s not a real knife?’’ Annabeth asked enigmatically.

Before Louis could say anything else, Annabeth pulled Percy forward with her and moved towards the dance floor. She could see Louis’s confused face as he walked to the kitchen to find the rest of the group and laughed lightly before wrapping her arms around Percy’s neck.

‘’You shouldn’t do that,’’ Percy told her, but he was definitely holding back a smile. ‘’His head is going to explode one day if you keep making those kinds of comments.’’

‘’It’s not my fault mortals are so easy to fool.’’

He finally smiled widely and brought her closer, his hands on her waist. Annabeth breathed a sigh of relief -between exams, monsters and the typical anxiousness that all demigods carried whenever they stepped onto the street, being at a party with her boyfriend and worrying about nothing at all was a godsend. She could feel Percy’s smile against her hair, since he was laying his cheek on her head, and she could also hear his heartbeat, her ear pressed against his chest. It didn’t matter to them that the song was definitely not a slow one, and so they swayed slowly to the rhythm of a song that definitely required more moving. Percy knew people were looking at them; not everyone knew he had a girlfriend, even if he wasn’t particularly secretive about it, and they made quite a striking pair in their white togas with golden details, golden tiaras and leather sandals.

‘’I love you,’’ he whispered, and Annabeth was amazed at the way he managed to make it sound romantic even in the middle of a techno song.

‘’I know,’’ she answered softly. ‘’I love you, too.’’

When the song finally ended, they separated; it’s not as if they had actually been paying attention to the music playing, but tuning out two loud songs and managing to dance for so long was too much for two people with ADHD.

‘’Shall we go to the kitchen to get some water?’’ Annabeth asked.

Percy nodded and threw his arm around her shoulder again, her arm automatically moving to wrap around his waist. It had made her uncomfortable at the beginning of the relationship how Percy always wanted to be touching her, since she didn’t fully understand why. She had always been the one to hold his hand when she was scared, and it had taken her a while to realise it was because he didn’t want to make her uncomfortable and he never truly believed that she could like him back. Now that Percy knew she loved him just as much as he loved her, his body always found a way to make sure he was touching her; even during the hot summer nights they spent together after the Giant War, he had always managed to wrap his leg around hers or to lay his hand on top of her hip while he slept.

They were greeted by his tipsy friends when they reached the kitchen, who thankfully didn’t question it when Annabeth simply grabbed a bottle of water and Percy a can of coke. Percy was happy with his life at the moment; things might not have been perfect, but they were better than they had been in a long time. His friends liked his girlfriend, nobody was trying to kill him on the regular (he didn’t even care about random monsters anymore; no god or Titan going specifically after him? Are you kidding? A dream ), he was about to have a baby sister, and he hadn’t exploded his school yet. Looking around the group of people surrounding him, he felt a sense of normalcy that he had longed for for a while. Matthew was talking about a different girl he had fallen in love with - ‘’I’m telling you, man, she is the one’’ -, and Kayla was mocking him while Louis laughed quietly and Annabeth laughed with him. He pressed a kiss at the top of Annabeth’s head and brought her even closer, relishing the situation. Of course, good things never lasted forever.

‘’Hey, blondie!’’ John Robinson’s voice called. He tried to grab her arm, but Percy pushed her closer when he felt her slipping away. She didn’t move away from him, but did turn to face John with a steely look in her eyes.

She said nothing, simply arching an eyebrow and defying him to say anything else. Had he been sober, he would have probably walked away -at least, Percy hoped so, since the guy was an asshole, but not stupid-, but he was, very clearly, drunk.

‘’Mind your mouth, Robinson,’’ Percy threateningly said. He saw his friends straightening up from the periphery of his eye, aware that this could lead to something ugly.

‘’You know, blondie, you scared me pretty badly the other day at the meet,’’ he said, slurring his words, ‘’but it was so hot that I jerked off to it when I got home.’’

‘’That’s enough,’’ Percy exclaimed, moving forward and raising his fist before being pulled back by Annabeth.

‘’Stop it!’’ she yelled. She turned to look at him and put one hand on his chest, the other holding his hand and forcing him to look at her before she whispered, ‘’I can do this myself. Besides, you don’t want to be taken off the team.’’

She turned again to look at the laughing John, who was now making fun of Percy. They had attracted a crowd and people were anxiously whispering, both excited and afraid of a fight breaking out.

‘’Man, she must be really good in the bedroom for you to be so submissive.’’

‘’If you don’t shut up, you’ll be breathing through your mouth for the next six weeks,’’ she calmly said.

‘’Oh, come on, blondie, are you being tough because you know it turns me on?’’

He raised his hand to touch her hair, but Annabeth used her left hand to push his arm away and, then, raised her right fist and punched him in the nose. He fell backwards, holding his nose and screaming in pain. His voice was the only one in the kitchen; everyone had gone silent the moment he tried to touch her, expectant of what was about to happen.

‘’You bitch!’’

‘’Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, you big baby,’’ she said, not even holding her hand or caring about her knuckles. She bent down and smiled happily, patting his foot. ’’Be thankful I didn’t dislocate your shoulder, because that’s my speciality. You can ask Percy. It turns him on when I’m tough, too, but, unlike you, he actually gets to do something about it.’’

She stood up and searched for Percy’s hand blindly, who had already extended it to take hers before she was even up. There was still an angry look in his eyes, but there was a troublemaker smile that she adored adorning his face.

‘’Do you want to stay for another song, or should we go home?’’ She asked, ignoring the glances everyone was sending them.

‘’Home,’’ Percy said, smiling. ‘’Definitely home.’’

They started moving towards the door, people moving to let them pass. Just before they were out of the kitchen, Annabeth turned around and smiled sweetly at his friends.

‘’Are you coming?’’

Silently, they followed them, making a mental note not to bother Annabeth or Percy if they didn’t want to end up with a broken nose. Once they were out on the street, Annabeth broke out laughing, and Percy followed. Matthew, Kayla and Louis couldn’t help but laugh as well, and they knew they looked like a group of drunk teenagers, but they didn’t really care.

‘’That was even better than when you judo flipped me,’’ Percy said once he calmed down, using his finger to dry the tears off his face.

Annabeth laughed and elbowed him on the side before pressing her face against his chest. His arm was once again around her shoulders, and they looked just as happy as they had when they had first arrived at the party.

‘’What an uneventful night, though,’’ Annabeth said quite seriously, but with a soft smile on her face.

Percy hummed and nodded, and his friends couldn’t help but wonder what was an eventful night for them. They knew, however, not to ask anymore.

[nanasparadise]

“Paradise lost” Yan!Bruno x female reader

Hiya everyone! This is my first fanfiction, I hope you enjoy it 🥺

Summary: You live a pleasant and regular life as a curator in Naples, until a certain over-protective Capo turns it upside down...

TW: alcohol, drugs, stalking, cursing, noncon touching, mentions of violence and death, toxic relationship, MATURE AUDIENCE ONLY/MINORS DNI

I do not condone any type of yandere behaviour in real life.

You were living in a paradise. Your paradise. After having moved to Italy, you were finally able to lead the life of your dreams. The city of Naples with its gentle sea breeze, the vivid streets and the ancient architecture just felt right to you. Not to mention the people; you've met some of the most supporting individuals. Your friends helped you integrate in Italy and gave you some Italian classes in order to improve your, admittedly, quite basic Italian skills. Your job as a curator in an art museum fulfilled your passion. Your small, but very cozy flat felt as if it was sculpted for you. Even after having spent nearly a year in the city, you never regretted your decision to move there. That was until you met a certain peculiar man, who would change your whole life forever.

You spent the night at the bar with Analisa and Federico, your two closest friends. The trio consisting of you were a bit tipsy, because of one too many drinks. The intoxication offered you lots of fun though, as you were constantly laughing at the slightest things. At 4 a.m., you were finally shooed out of the pub by the annoyed owner. The three of you went outside of the bar. You inhaled gladly the cool night air, which put you a bit back to your senses. Your friends, on the other hand, remained tipsy while constantly gigglying and grinning. Analisa and Federico suggested to go back to their place, where they might continue enjoying the night with some pills. You smiled at them, but declined. Drugs weren't really up your alley. 

"Aww, come on Y/N!", Analisa pouted, "it will be fun!"

"No thanks, you guys. You know how I feel about drugs", you replied patiently. 

"Should we take you home, then?", Federico asked, forehead frowned in worries, "You know it can be dangerous out here all alone with the whole mafia." 

"I'll be fine, thank you. You should be more worried for the guys with my Krav Maga skills!", you joked, trying to ease your friend's concerns, “and by the way, you two better be careful with your pills!"

After having hugged them goodbye, you parted ways with your friends. The streets of Naples were mostly quiet. In the distance, you heard fainlty some music from a club. A few stray cats roamed in the shadows, watching you with their predatory eyes. Admitteldy, it made you feel a tad uncomfortable. "Stop it", you muttered to yourself, "Don't let a few cats play tricks on you." Still captured by the felines' gaze, you accidentally stumbled over the pavement. Before you could actually hit the floor, as you anticipated, a strong hand caught your upper arm and hindered the fall. You looked up to your saviour to thank them. It was a rather unusual man. He wore a unique white suit with black spoon-like dots on it and zippers and his black hair was cut in a bob. But what you noticed the most were his deep, ocean blue eyes, which stared back at you with concern. Even though he seemed rather strange, the man's whole atmosphere drew you in. As you kept contemplating him, a sudden thought crossed your mind. "Where did he come from so quickly? I didn't see anyone in the street", you pondered. The thought made you shiver slightly. Realising that you still shamelessly stared at the man, you decided to finally speak up. 

"Thank you for catching me, I guess I had one too many", you said humoursly to him, trying to relax the tense ambience. The handsome guy offered you a smile to your relief. 

"No need to thank me, signorina", he answered cheekily. Something about him calling you "Miss" didn't feel right to you. After all, you were a grown adult and not some teenage girl. 

"No really, thank you, I could have hurt me", you insisted politely. The man still held your arm. You were eyeing uncomfortably to it, hoping he would catch the hint. Luckily, he did so and retrieved his warm hand from your body. The man cleared awkwardly his throat and continued speaking.

"Are you alright though? It is dangerous to walk at night the streets in Naples, especially for a young lady." His worry for you was quite flattering, you admitted to yourself. 

"I am fine, thanks to you", you winked at him. You could swear his cheeks turned slightly pink, but because of the darkness, you couldn't be entirely sure. 

"May I accompany you home?", the man asked, "It would ease my mind if I knew you arrived home safely." You weren't sure how to react. Sure, he was beautiful, but did you really want a stranger to know where you lived? 

"Thank you for your kind offer, but my flat isn't far away, I will be there in a minute", you replied carefully. After all, Federico was right: there were many mafiosi in Naples, maybe he was one of them? Your suspicions towards him increased. The man seemed to feel your paranoia. He flashed you a reassuring smile that would have made every woman swoon over him. 

"I understand your suspiciousness fully,” he said smoothly, "but I do think it is not necessary in this case. If I wanted to cause you any harm, I'd have it done by now. After all, this is a quiet and dark street and no one would have witnessed anything." "Fair enough", you thought. He was right. He could have easily murdered you by now if he wanted to. And there was nothing harmful about letting him follow you, right? 

"Well, if you put it that way, then sure, I'd like that", you answered with a soft smile. You shouldn't have agreed. Oh Y/N, if only you knew, you would have went with your friends. Instead, you went home, the stranger remaining by your side. "By the way, I don't think I introduced myself. My name is Y/N." 

"Pleasure to meet you, Y/N, I am Bruno."

Slowly, the two of you became friends. Bruno turned out to be a loyal and charming man. Being the ever so polite gentleman, you didn’t have a clue about the raven-haired man’s true intentions. Oh no, you were blissfully ignorant to his advances. In fact, he knew you before that fateful night. The capo - you didn’t actually know his real job as he kept smoothly tip-toeing around it - had been chasing an enemy Stand user in the art museum where you worked when his attentive gaze had fallen on your form. You had explained patiently to an elderly couple every little detail of the Veiled Christ statue. In that moment, Bruno hadn’t known why he had stopped just to stare at you. Maybe it was the way you had treated the couple with kindness, maybe the way your eyes had lit up with passion as you had talked about the subject that fascinated you. Bruno still wasn’t sure what exactly enchanted him when it came to you. All he was aware of was the fuzzy warmth in his stomach and his racing heartbeat whenever he glanced at you. And that he would never let go of that feeling. So, the young mafioso started following you from that day on. He wouldn’t necessarily call it stalking, he just wanted to make sure that you were alright. And look where it had led him to - if he hadn’t been there to watch over you, you would have hurt yourself, which Bruno couldn’t let happen, of course. He was convinced that you needed him in your life. The following months since the Italian man had been by your side, you were in total safety. 

But you also felt ultimately caged in. You were grateful for Bruno’s friendship, but it also smothered you. Every time you were trying to go out with your friends, he would ask about every tiny detail: where were you going, who did come with you, what were you doing and so on. Eventually, he’d always join you. 

“Cara,” he would say with pleading eyes, “I only want to protect you. The world is a dark place and Naples is its hell. I don’t want to witness how anyone takes advantage of your sweet innocence.”

“Somehow he always knows when I go out with them, too”, you wondered. If you didn’t know any better, you would think that the two of you were dating. Bruno did behave like an overly jealous and possessive boyfriend. Plus, he always acted super touchy and affectionate around you: a pet name here, an arm around your shoulders there. Every time you confronted him, he would laugh it off. “I guess I am bewitched by you, tesoro.” All of this made you feel uncomfortable. Still, you didn’t want to lose your friendship. So you kept quiet most of the time. 

Until one day, you talked to Analisa and told her about it. For once, you needed some other friend than Bruno to listen to you, someone who wouldn’t act like a partner around you. Luckily, you knew for a fact that he would be gone this evening due to his mysterious profession he never mentioned to you. So, you invited Analisa over to your flat to vent. The blue-haired woman listened attentively to your lamentations. The words just spilt out of your mouth until you realised you actually started crying. Analisa held you in her arms and tried to calm you down. “Hey, Y/N, it’s fine. he’s not around”, she kept repeating. Eventually, your sobs died slowly until you were left staring at Analisa puffy-eyed. “If I allow myself to share my piece of mind,” Analisa said angrily, “he is a pezzo di merda. Who does he think he is to behave like that? You’re not his girlfriend, and even if you were, he doesn’t have the right to treat you like you are his possession. You can do whatever the fuck you want.” Her furious words filtered through your brain. “She’s right”, you agreed silently. “And you know what else? I hate to see you down because of that asshole,”  Analisa continued, “But I’ve just got the perfect solution for that.” The blue-haired woman grinned as she took some small pills out of the pocket of her leather jacket. “Let’s have some fun, shall we?”

At first you weren’t sure about taking the hallucinogens, since you never took drugs before. But for once, just for once, you wanted to escape reality. When did your little paradise turn into hell? You thought, you valued your friendship with Bruno, but now, all you wanted to do was to run away from him. The drug slowly started to kick in as you felt your head spinning. The dizziness made you feel light, as if you were about to fly away any moment. Analisa started to giggle next to you, already high. Suddenly, you began seeing black dots around you, coming closer and closer. “Weren’t these the dots on Bruno’s suit?”, you thought anxiously. They were talking to you, calling you principessa, amore mio, stella mia and many more terms of endearment. The dots turned into hands, touching you everywhere. But you decided to not give in. Not this time. Instead, you transformed your fear into anger. You energetically pushed away all the hands until they scurried away. Your rage wasn’t quenched yet, though.Under the effect of the drug, your fury was amplified significally. You took your phone and called Bruno. You wanted to let your frustration out on him, not only on the creations of your mind of him. He picked up immediately after the first ringing. “Y/N?”, he asked, worry dripping from his voice, “Are you alright? You don’t call normally. Should I come to you? I can drop my work just-”

“Bruno,” you interrupted him abruptly, “stop it. STOP IT. I can’t take this shit anymore. You cling onto me like some lovesick puppy and I’m done. Who the fuck are you even? I hardly know your name and you behave as if we were married. Guess what, you’re not even my boyfriend.” It was quiet for an instant. At first, you thought he hung up, but then you heard a slight chuckle from the other end of the phone. “The fuck?”, you thought, “Did he now completely have lost his mind?” 

“Y/N, is that what it takes to call me? Being high?”, the Italian man replied. Another bitter laugh espaced his mouth. You weren’t sure if he knew about your current state, because of your atypical rage or simply because he seemed to know everything about you without you telling anything. “Another reason for him to leave me alone.” 

“I bet one of your lovely friends gave you a pill, didn’t they?”, Bruno continued, seemingly angry now, too, “You know how I feel about drugs, right?”

You didn’t answer, your fear suddenly coming back. The room around you started to spin more and more. 

“Right?”, Bruno growled again. 

“Y-yes”, you stuttered eventually. 

“Good. I assume you’re in your apartment. Stay there and don’t make anything stupid anymore. I’ll be there soon. Clearly, you need me even more than I thought you would.” With these words, Bruno hung up, leaving you even more confused and frightened. Your body started trembling terribly. You didn’ t know if it was because of the drug or your pitless fear. Analisa, coming back to senses again, realised your bad state and immediately rushed over to you. 

“Shit Y/N, what happened?”, she inquired, worry written in her eyes. You explained to her the situation as best as you could in your foggy condition. “Fuck, I should have never given you the drug,” Analisa replied remorsefully, “I take full responsibility. I’ll call the cops before that bastard arrives here, I don’t care if they find my drugs, we’ve gotta do-”. The woman was interrupted by a loud knock on your door. 

“Y/N?”, Bruno shouted, “I know you’re in there. Open the door please.” 

“What are we doing now?”, you cried desperately. You didn’t even know why you reacted that way. Bruno never gave you a serious reason to be scared of him, but now, after the phone call, your gut feeling told you to run away as fast as you could. 

“I’ll call them now”, Analisa replied hastily, looking for her phone. But it was too late. Bruno broke the door in, his stern gaze resting on you. “Since when was he so strong?” 

“Analisa,” the man said, not breaking eye contact with you for a single moment, “give me your phone and walk away.” 

“Are you mad?”, the blue-haired woman shouted furiously, “I’m not gonna leave Y/N alone with you after that.” 

“Give me your phone and walk away, now”, the man repeated gloomly. His eyes, normally a serene blue ocean, turned into a destructive storm. Bruno smashed his fist into the wall, leaving it with a gaping hole. “If you don’t leave immediately,” he growled, “your family will suffer great consequences. Your little sister Teresa? She will die in a tragic car accident. Your father Marco? He will die of liver failure for drinking too much. Or so will be the official reports.” You stared big-eyed at Bruno, your fear only increasing. There was no doubt now that he worked with the mafia. Analisa slowly walked past you, tears falling down her cheeks, as she softly said sorry to you. Her phone was resting on your couch. Once she was gone, you broke down completely. What was he going to do? Bruno stood now in front of you, dragging you ungently by your arm and monitoring you to your bedroom. Was he really going to…? 

“No, no, no, NO!” What first started with a whisper ended in a bloodcurdling scream. The Italian didn’t stop though, pushing you instead on your bed. He seemed to be tired of your behaviour. Bruno sighed deeply, finally speaking to you now. 

“Y/N, I’m not going to do such thing. I just want you to realise, that you behave recklessly and I can’t let you continue like this. I just want to protect you. Look at you, being high now.” He gestured elegantly at you with his slim hand. What was he talking about? Your hallucinations had stopped the minute Bruno knocked on your door. 

“I am not high anymore”, you simply replied. 

“Are you sure about that?”, the raven-haired man replied. His eyes began to glimmer darkly. Suddenly, you witnessed how your legs were zipped away. 

“What the fuck?”, you screamed desperately. What was happening? You were sure, that this wasn’t the effect of the drug, that Bruno somehow did this to your body. “What are you doing to my legs? I-I kn-o-ow that you a-are z-z-ziping them off of m-me”, you stuttered anxiously. 

“What do you mean? I can’t see such thing”, Bruno replied coolly. “As I said, you are hallucinating.” 

“I am not hallucinating, you are doing this to me! I know you do! Please, stop it. Stop it...”. Your pleads turned into ear-piercing sobs. Tears clouded your vision as you desperately tried to grasp for air. 

“Hush, cara.” Bruno was suddenly next to you on your bed, draping his arm over your shoulders and whispering in your ear. “This is all in your mind. You need to sleep now. Tomorrow, everything will be fine again. I will stay by your side and protect you.” His warm breath grazed your earshell. The man nuzzled your hair, admiring its smooth texture and lovely scent. “I will always be with you.”

Eventually, after all your crying, you did fall asleep in Bruno’s arms. The latter kept stroking your cheek, marveling your soft breathing and beautiful face. Of course he felt a tinge of guilt for having used Sticky Fingers on you. Your desperate cries as you called him for help still pained him. But you needed to learn your lesson. Bruno could tolerate a lot, but drugs weren’t on that list. He would give Analisa a quick visit to make sure she’ll never talk to you again. Or to anyone, for a matter of fact. You didn’t need such a bad influence. “Not my sweet Y/N”, he whispered in your locks. “From tomorrow on, you will live with me, where I can always protect you. Now, doesn’t that sound like paradise?”

[beyond-the-mirror]

Music of the Night (V x Reader)

Chapter 7 is finally here! As I have mentioned a couple posts ago I am going to focus solely on this story for the time being. I will try my best to update at least once per week so stay tuned.

Warnings: A little angst in a few parts.

Tagging: @thedyingmoon​ @minteyeddemon​ @vampiregirl1797​

If you wish to be tagged in this story let me know in the comments.

………………….

Chapter 7: Nightingale in the Cage

“So Bishop, would you mind explaining to us the reason you decided to become a patron for the Opera house?”

“Oh not at all.” Sanctus took a deep breath before speaking again. “As you may have heard in the local news, an estranged brother of mine passed away some time ago, may his soul rest in peace. Days later I received a visit from his lawyer, apparently he had accumulated quite the fortune and his testament determined that I would be the sole heir of all his possessions and shares.” The Bishop made a brief pause, the death of his brother still weighing down his heart. “I actually have no need for such a large sum of money, which is why I only kept a modest enough amount for me and decided to donate the rest in favor of the conservation of the arts.”

“A rather noble cause indeed Bishop, our sincerest apologies for your loss.” Monsieur Andre added.

“Thank you for your condolences. All my life I’ve considered myself to be an admirer of the fine arts. There’s nothing I wouldn’t love more than to finance Fortuna’s famous Opera House and support the careers of its many skilled artists.”

“And we shall be forever grateful for your patronage bishop.” Monsieur Firmin mentioned before lifting his champagne glass. “Let’s have a toast for the future of Fortuna’s Opera House.”

“For the future of this new society.” Raoul finished before the men raised their glasses together in glee. The vicomte, however, seemed to have a sense of sadness in his eyes that he hid all too well from everybody. How he wished to spend more time with you, but didn’t find you at the party.

Maybe you were too exhausted to attend and went home instead? Whatever it was, he wished you were okay.

………………….

‘The newest play from Fortuna’s Theatre Company, Hannibal, has been critically acclaimed by specialized press, scoring an impressive average of 4.6 out of 5 stars’

‘The exquisite acting and choreography are to be praised. However, its most prominent figure is the miraculous voice of the main singer, who has replaced iconic soprano Carlotta Guidicelli as the protagonist.’

‘Step down Carlotta! A new queen has arrived and the spotlight is all hers!’

‘In a shocking turn of events, Signora Carlotta Guidicelli, believed to be the company's successor to legendary soprano Kyrie Eleison, has been overshadowed by a new rising talent. A humble fortunian songstress by the name of (Y/N) (Y/L/N).’

‘(Y/N) (Y/L/N). The break-through songstress that has captivated the audience’s hearts. Is this the birth of a brand new star?’

Reviews, articles and blog posts about the company’s new soprano spread around the internet like wildfire, every single one focusing on the same subject: The mysterious soprano that took Fortuna by surprise and dethroned 'La Carlota’ herself.

The girl had become the theatre’s own Venus and Aphrodite, a muse that inspired all the souls touched by her melodious voice. A nightingale turned human, an angel descended to Earth.

But as her performances continued and her fame grew, a few observant enough would take notice of certain… details regarding her.

The truth behind this? A sinister shadow was tormenting the theatre’s beloved angel, one that threatened to consume not only her, but everything around.

………………….

“I refuse to accept this!” Carlotta stomped her heel on the marbled floor of her lavish bedroom, taking a sip from the almost full glass of wine in her hand.

Ever since that fiasco when she stormed out of the theatre during the rehearsals for ‘Hannibal’, the soprano’s life seemingly started turning for the worse, all because of that girl that once dared to collide with her during rehearsal. She had insisted the dancer had done so on purpose, envious of her great talent.

And now it turns out that dancer is the same one that took her role as the main protagonist! Carlotta felt offended by such a decision, she was a professional while that girl was just a simple amateur

Still, she had to admit this (Y/N) had a gifted voice. What she could not explain is how she managed to perfect her skill to such a high level if she claimed to be an inexperienced singer? As talented as one could be, it takes years of work and practice to master one’s craft, the only explanation she could come up with was that the girl had to have a special tutor, and an exceptional one at that.

But who?

Realizing her glass was already empty, Carlotta hurried to refill it again. She had believed that with Kyrie gone to Broadway, she now had the stage clear for herself to finally shine above everyone else, after all, the only voice above Signora Carlotta could only be that of Fortuna’s legendary songstress herself.

Such hopes were now broken. She had a new competitor, one that was already stealing the spotlights.

As she turned to the broadcast of the company’s most recent play, she huffed when the camera focused on the new main singer. The audience had fallen right into her trap, and now she had them all wrapped around her lithe finger.

“I don’t know what they see in her, she’s nothing special and she’s not that pretty. Especially with those dark circles under her eyes, does she even sleep? Careful girl, you are already losing your youth.” Carlotta snorted before downing her glass of wine.

………………….

“Vicomte Raoul! Bishop Sanctus! We weren’t quite expecting your visit to our Opera House. What can we do for you, gentlemen?”

Messieurs Andre and Firmin almost tripped over their own feet as they hurried to attend the Opera House’s important benefactors. Raoul managed to hide his laughter at their eagerness, while Sanctus simply offered the two a gentle smile.

“Do not worry for us, messieurs. This fine theatre holds so many precious memories of my youth, so I thought it appropriate to drop by and watch the rehearsals take place if you don’t mind us.”

“Oh, not at all Bishop! This way please.”

As the four men approached the hall, a melodious voice resonated through the walls.

“Ah! You are in luck. Our lead singer seems to be on stage right now practicing one of her numbers.” Firmin noted just as he opened the door to the main hall.

Madame Trish was supervising as usual, you stood at the stage performing an aria while Monsieur Reyer directed your voice through the song’s notes. As he took a seat near the stage next to Sanctus, Raoul was mesmerized by your singing figure, the passion and dedication you imprinted on your work palpable and strong enough to touch the hearts of others.

“An utter beauty, isn’t she?” The elder’s voice snapped him out of his trance. As he turned to face Sanctus, he noticed the soft smile and knowing look in his eyes. He gulped, were his feelings that obvious? Then again, Sanctus has seen and learned a lot during the many years of his long life, wisdom comes with age after all.

“Ah! Young love! Perhaps the purest and most innocent of them all.” The bishop gave a hearty chuckle. “Miss (Y/N) is definitely special. Her voice alone holds so much power, enough to make the entire audience bow to her, and yet she still remains humble and authentic.”

Raoul turned his attention back to the stage where you were now conversing with Trish and Reyer about your routine during the number. The vicomte could see what Sanctus meant, you weren’t arrogant or prideful like Carlotta, but rather attentive and open to the feedback and mentoring offered to you.

A smile grazed his lips. He had just met you and already you were taking over his heart and mind.

Still as he observed you going through the song one more time, there was something off that caught his eye. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but it was there. The heave of your chest whenever you ended a verse, the slight trembles of your feet whenever they moved along the lines marked on the stage by Trish. 

You looked… tired? Exhausted, perhaps? No... more like detached.

But you continued the rehearsal with no trouble. Maybe your sudden growing popularity was already taking its toll on you, as well as all the performances you had to do at the theatre. For anyone without experience, such exhaustion is understandable.

In the seat next to him, Bishop Sanctus was also studying you. However, his expression seemed more preoccupied than that of the vicomte. He too had noticed some kind of dark aura looming around you, and he pondered what this could mean for the Opera House’s future, and for his plans too.

………………….

petite.aerette  I can’t believe I finally got to watch #Hannibal. So happy to know the Opera House is on the rise once again. #FortunaOperaHouse #theatre #musical

alya_hyacinth  You saw it live? Girl, I’m jealous!

dramaqueen101  Aaah I was there too! I wish you told me you were going, we could have gone together and have our seats next to each other.

petite.aerette  Sorry! Mom surprised me with our tickets that same morning. Did you see that new singer everyone is talking about? She is awesome! I already love her voice and acting!

dramaqueen101  I know right?! In fact I caught a glimpse of her after the play when she retired to her dressing room. I wanted to go talk to her but it was too crowded and she seemed to be in a rush. However I noticed she looked a bit tired? As if she hadn’t been getting enough sleep.

………………….

Free time had become a luxury for Nico. There was always something to fix, something to supervise, something to check. Whatever breaks she would get, she welcomed them with open arms and relaxed as much as she could before it was back to work again.

It was in one of these breaks when she ran into you, what better way to enjoy some free time than with a dear friend?

But as she approached your figure, Nico took notice of your appearance. Your skin was now as pale as a ghost, your eyes were heavy with sleepiness and dark circles framing them. You looked as if you were about to collapse at any given moment.

“Hey, you alright sugarcube?” Nico’s hands went to your arms by instinct, just in case you were feeling sick and you needed to be rushed to the infirmary. But with a small smile, you tried to ease her worries.

“Couldn’t get much sleep last night, that’s all.”

“Uh huh…” Nico was many things, highly perceptive was one of those. Many have found out the hard way that she was not an easy one to fool. Of course, it was no surprise that she could see right through your words. “Come. Let’s get you some warm tea.”

Stern and maybe a bit harsh, but caring when the situation called for it. That was Nicoletta Goldstein for you. One of the most surprising things about her is that she made the best tea in the world according to the people working at the theatre. 

“This should ease you a bit, honey. Careful, it’s still hot.” As she handed you the small cup, she looked at you with worry in her eyes but didn’t say anything. Instead she waited for you to open up and tell her what was wrong.

You could already picture the almost dead look you must have had. With slightly shaky hands you held onto the porcelain cup, raising it to your lips and gently blowing the steam to cool it down a bit. As a warm earthy flavor filled your taste buds, your body could finally ease up and relax even if just for a little while, granting you a moment of much needed peace.

Still, you didn’t find it in yourself to tell her.

Luckily for you, Nico knew better than to keep insisting. She figured that whatever was worrying you, you weren’t ready to talk about it yet. Nonetheless, she stayed right by your side in a comfortable silence with a cup of tea of her own.

It was a nice and peaceful moment, at least until she was called to check on one of the moving stage props.

And so she excused herself, but not before reminding you that you could always count on her for anything.

What Nico didn’t know, however, was the reason for your silence.

You didn’t tell her because something was forcing you to. 

………………….

Days became weeks. Weeks became months. And soon enough, time itself began to blur.

Ever since that night at his sanctuary, everything felt… off.

You had woken up in your bed, feeling dazed and lightheaded, perhaps the effects of the turmoil from the previous night.

V. The first thing on your mind as soon as you recovered your consciousness was him.

You wanted, no, needed to find him and get some answers. Why did he disappear so many years ago? Why was he hiding his true identity from you?

… What were those black markings scarring his face?

There was just one problem, you didn’t know where exactly was his sanctuary located. The secret passage behind the mirror in your dressing room came to mind, but in order to navigate the underground canals you needed a boat, not to mention that it was easy to get lost in there. Maybe you could ask the authorities for help, but how could you explain your story and make them believe you?

You made your decision on the way to the Opera House. You would start by telling Nico for the moment, you trusted her enough and she often gave the best advice on any matter.

But the moment you spotted her in the distance and tried to approach her, something strange happened.

An unseen force lodged itself in your chest, holding your voice and your heart in a vice grip that burned through your entire body. All the air in your lungs escaped you, and the feeling of daze you felt that morning returned in full force. You tried to scream, call for help, but no sound would come out of your lips. All words died as soon as they left your vocal chords.

You watched Nico leaving after someone required her assistance, and as soon as she disappeared from your line of sight, the pain stopped. As sudden as it had arrived.

You remained frozen in your place, goosebumps raised on your flesh. The moment some sensation came back to your legs, you ran away.

The day continued with relative normalcy, but your mind remained perturbed. And hours later, just as all the scheduled performances had ended for the day, you headed for your dressing room.

Once inside, the mirror opened, and everything went black.

When you opened your eyes, it was already morning the next day. Once again you woke in your bed, feeling as dazed and lightheaded as the day before. But the feeling didn’t go away, and with everyday that passed, it only became worse.

Strangely enough, your performances never faltered once despite the unknown illness weighing you down, almost as if you were doing everything automatically, like a machine following its program. You were thankful for this apparent ability to keep it together, but soon you started feeling detached. It reached a point when you could no longer feel your own body, or the melodic notes leaving your lips. You were no longer living, but rather watching your life unfold itself without any input of your own.

Many times you made an attempt to tell someone, anyone, about this; but you found that every single time you were about to do so, that terrible pain would return until you desisted. Soon, you were conditioned to stay quiet.

One day Nico began noticing your predicament, but by then that obscure force had you under its control already. She was right there, concerned and willing to help. And yet you didn’t dare to speak up.

Panic often filled your mind, hopelessness flooded your soul. You prayed and prayed for this nightmare to stop.

After another successful performance, the last one for the day, you found yourself inside the main dressing room as usual.

And as usual, the mirror opened, letting out the hidden darkness that haunted the Opera House behind everyone’s backs.

………………….

Poor unfortunate Joseph Buquet. 

Ever since that incident with the falling curtain, Nico had him double checking pretty much everything. Every rope, pulley and mechanism had to be meticulously examined in order to prevent another incident like that from happening again. Now he understood why it was such an important and critical matter, the least he wanted was for anybody to be harmed due to a malfunction after all, but his own anxiety over making a mistake and causing another accident was already getting him. The poor man would triple- no, cuadruple check every single detail in an almost paranoid way. Not a single nook or cranny would be left unattended by this dedicated worker.

So it was no surprise that today was especially bad for the nervous Mr. Buquet, for his trusty utility belt had been misplaced, making him search the whole building for his precious tools.

Only after finding his utility belt did Buquet allow himself to feel relieved, a heavy burden lifting off his tired shoulders. He was making his way back to the fly floor when the sound of hurried steps nearby reached his ears, as he turned at a corner he caught a glimpse of you closing the door to your dressing room shut. Noticing the way you entered the room in such a haste, he worried something might have happened to you. Maybe you were feeling sick and needed to rest? These days you had been looking paler than usual, and the man had to admit that seeing you in your current lamentable state tugged at his heartstrings.

Walking to your door, Buquet politely knocked at the wooden surface “Miss (Y/N), is everything alright?” But no answer came back.

He knocked again, this time a bit louder. “Miss (Y/N), are you there?” Again, no answer.

Now he was getting genuinely concerned. He even pressed his ear to the door in an attempt to hear whatever was happening inside, but he found only silence.

“Miss (Y/N) I’m opening the door right now!” Buquet immediately took hold of the knob and slowly cracked it open, merely peeking inside just in case you needed some privacy after all.

The sight that greeted him sent chills to his very bones.

A tall shadowy figure towered at the back of the room, its arms wrapped around your unconscious body in a seemingly possessive manner. Like a ghost, it moved towards the mirror and disappeared with you in its arms.

Buquet stood frozen as his mind tried to process what just happened before him.

He had heard the stories, rumors about an entity that haunted the Opera House. Some workers would mention seeing shadows through the corners of their eyes, others would claim that low growling noises could be heard at the hallways when they were empty enough, and a few would tell how they found strange iridescent blue feathers in the most bizarre locations inside the premises.

His mind pictured the heavy curtain that mysteriously fell on Carlotta. Then, the strange Box Four that always remained unoccupied despite the concierge’s claims about hearing a voice coming from inside.

They called it different names. A poltergeist, a monster, a demon… a Phantom…

But this time they hadn’t moved a prop or taken a simple object with them.

This time, they had taken a person.

………………….

Locked inside one of the restrooms designated for the staff, Mr. Buquet did his best to calm himself down. He had just witnessed the kidnapping of a promising young woman by the hands of an… an entity.

His hands flew to his hair in panic. What could he do? Nobody would believe a phantom had spirited away the company’s Prima Donna!

He… he had to have been hallucinating! Yes, that had to be it. For years the staff has accused the Phantom for all the minor inconveniences that often sabotaged rehearsals and productions, but this was an entirely different story, a songstress was just kidnapped for Lord Sparda’s sake! Urban legends or not, the supposed Phantom had never gone to these extremes before.

Splashing some cold water on his tired face one last time, Buquet finally exited the restroom and made his way back home, all the while reassuring himself that what he had witnessed couldn’t have been real.

‘Tomorrow Miss (Y/N) is gonna come to work as always. Nothing bad happened to her. Right now she is at home, resting on her bed.’ He would repeat himself over and over.

And the next day, Buquet got his much needed relief when he saw you rehearsing at the stage as if nothing had transcurred the night before. He almost let out an euphoric laugh when he saw you safe and sound and that he had been anxious for nothing.

Concluding that the constant burnout was the cause of his hallucinations, Mr. Buquet requested for a few days off to recover, a request that Monsieur Andre approved without thinking twice. 

Everything was going to be okay… or so thought Joseph Buquet.

Castings for a new production called ‘Il Muto’ were about to start in a few weeks, and everyone was about to witness how a single wrong decision could unleash the most gruesome of horrors.

[gopeachllama]

I Was Made for You

i was in my sad feysand hours and so i wrote this fic. Enjoy.

Fandom: A Court of Thornes and Roses by Sarah J Maas

Relationship: Feyre + Rhysand

Warnings: none

Word count: 1800

Each night sky that she gazed upon since arriving at the Night Court for the first time, was a beauty that took Feyre’s breathe away. But this night, was like no other. The sky was a blanket of black and violet. Each star was a glittering steady presence, her ever-present guardians guiding her to where she was always meant to be. Feyre met them with her own steady gaze.

“I see you.” she whispered to no one and all of them.

The cool night breeze carried her voice towards the City of Starlight. Her home. Star-flecked darkness appeared in the corner of her vision and Feyre turned to where Rhysand now stood. His mouth opened but no words came out, eyes widening by a fraction as he took her in. Despite what tonight was about, Feyre didn't put any extravagance into her appearance. She opted for minimal amount of makeup, and her hair was loose behind her shoulders and pinned back from her face with silver and diamond combs. But when Feyre saw the expression that took over her mate’s face, she knew she made the right decision. It was the dress of glittering pale blue diamonds that made her look like a fallen star. The dress she wore for her first Starfall. The dress she wore when she fell in love with Rhysand. Merely an hour ago, when Feyre looked through her wardrobe, she knew no other was better suited to wear for this night. When Rhys’ eyes, now lined with tears, met hers again, he gave a small smile and held out his hand.

“Ready?” His voice was soft with trepidation, as if he wanted her know that with a single word from her, they would turn back and that it would be okay if they did. But for Feyre, there were no nerves, no hesitations. Not for the rest of life. She was ready.

She placed her hand in his. “Always.”

The two did not take their eyes off each other as they were enveloped in wind and darkness. And when the world returned to them, Feyre squeezed Rhysand’s hand and sent a gentle caress over his mental shields. Never again, Rhys, she spoke to him through the bond, no matter what happens from tonight onwards or a year or a century, the one thing you will never have to be unsure of is my love and commitment to you. Rhysand lifted her hand that was still grasped in his and pressed his lip softly it as he replied, I love you, my darling. They turned, and before them, stood the great temple. Time itself seemed to begin and end where it stood proud. Great pillars rose from the earth it was carved from, and joined together at the top, like great arms of stone reaching for the night sky. Moonlight danced along the polished dark stone, the cool surface biting into the soles of the pair’s bare feet. Feyre saw that Rhysand had closed his eyes. As he took a deep breath that filled his chest, the darkness surrounding him seem to breathe with him. Here, as he stood in a simple black shirt and pants - not in Illyrian leathers on the battlefield, not in an expensive suit on his throne in the wretched Hewn City - did her mate look more like the High Lord of the Night Court than in this very moment. It was all too peaceful, too sacred to sully the air with spoken words, so Feyre stuck to speaking through the bond. So, what happens now? She asked. Soon, the priestess will meet us and the ceremony, if that’s what you’d like to call it, will begin. We can exchange words while the priestess calls down The Mother to bless us. He opened his eyes and gave Feyre a smile that made her heart full, and then we will be mates. Through and through.

Soft footstep drew their attention towards the priestess that now stood before them. “My Lord, I welcome you and your mate.” She bowed to them both.

“Thank you for allowing us to be here tonight.” Feyre followed her mate as he bowed his head to the priestess who raised a delicate hand to press it to his forehead. Her lips moved though no sound came out, to what Feyre assumed was a prayer. She did the same for Feyre before speaking aloud once again. “We shall begin now. Please follow me.”

Hand in hand, they followed the female into the temple. When they stopped, Feyre stood at the centre of everything. And all at once, she felt Her. Her presence was as tangible as if She stood right before them. As if She had waited for the two of them all this time. Later, there would be a celebration. Later, when there was no threat of war, they could stand together before all their friends and family. Where Feyre could call Rhysand her husband, and he, his wife. Where Mor and Cassian and Azriel and Amren and perhaps, if they would like, her father and sisters could come to share in their joy, and they could laugh and dance until their bodies ached. But right now, standing next to her mate, with nothing but the cool moonstone beneath her feet and the night sky that arched above her head, this was all she needed for this moment.

The priestess’ voice resonated through the polished walls of the temple. “Rhysand and Feyre.” Not Rhysand High Lord of the Night Court. Not Feyre Cursebreaker, Defender of the Rainbow. Just Rhysand and Feyre. No matter who or what they were; in the past or ever to be in the future. In this moment, they were just two. A male and female who loved each other so fiercely. Rhysand, now facing Feyre, took her right hand in his and slid their palms further up their arms until they gripped each other just before the crook of their elbows. “Let The Mother bless the union of these two mates.”

As they stood together, under the moon and stars, and The Mother, and all the Gods that were and will ever be, they became one. Feyre sparkled like starlight, and Rhysand looked at her as if he were seeing her for the first time.

‘“There you are. I’ve been looking for you.”’ He had said to her.

You found me Rhys, she said to him now. And I am yours forever.

Magic fizzled on the skin of her hand and soon a beautiful pattern of black swirls appeared on the once unblemished skin. A tattoo, she realised. A twin of the one that adorned her left forearm.

“Feyre, there are not enough words to tell you what you mean to me. You are my mate, my protector, my salvation, my friend.” The tears that lined his eyes broke away and fell down his face. “There is nothing in this world that is good and precious that you do not deserve. And I will do everything in my power to prove that until my dying breath.” The tears were now a constant stream down his cheeks, but his voice was steady, and his gaze did not falter. “I give you only my heart. No matter how bruised and battered, it is yours. But the rest; our family, our home, our future, you have earned with your own strength and power, and I love you. I love you Feyre, and I am honoured to stand at your side for the rest of our lives and every life beyond.”

She loved him. From the moment she was a child painting a star-filled night sky on her drawer, to the moment she was Remade, quietly dancing with him in this same dress under that same night sky, she loved him. Again, and again, she loved him. And she would not stop. In these hands anew, she would hold his love and all that it brought her, never letting go.

With her eyes she said it all, over and over again. With her hand that gripped him, she made sure he read every word. With her every breath and tear, she promised all the words she would ever say. And then Feyre spoke, just barely over a whisper so that only her mate and The Mother Herself may hear, “I was made for you.”

I am yours forever, Feyre darling, Rhysand answered. The tattoo that now adorned her entire right forearm, began to bleed into Rhysand’s. Their love was forever immortalised onto their skin. Mates though and through. Finally overwhelmed, Rhysand tore his gaze downwards for a moment as he let out a choked sob. Feyre went to move. To wipe away his tears. To hold him. To kiss him. But a sharp change in the atmosphere prevented her from moving.

Feyre felt the familiar tingle of magic lower this time, and she knew what it meant before she even lifted the skirt of her dress to reveal the stars and mountains that were newly inked on her knees. Her breath was caught in her throat, but it was the priestess’ voice that broke through the silence.

“The Mother has been watching over you, Feyre Cursebreaker, Defender of the Rainbow, and she has deemed you worthy.” Feyre looked to Rhysand with question but his expression was one of only pure elation. After a moment, she gave him a bewildered smile of her own before returning her attention to the priestess. “Do you, Feyre, swear to protect every being and all the lands of this court? Do you swear to lead with your own strength and spirit and all the wisdom of all the High Lords before you?”

“I swear.” She went into herself, to her very soul, and unleashed her power. Pure bright light glowed on her skin. Streams of light shot from her bare feet and snaked along the moonstone floor. They climbed the great pillars of the temple, meeting at the top and to the sky beyond.

Feyre hadn’t noticed Rhysand releasing his grasp on her until she caught the movement of him and the priestess kneeling on the floor, palms flat on the cool moonstone and heads bowed, “We serve you, Feyre, High Lady of the Night Court.” They spoke in unison.

As Rhysand went to stand again, tendrils of star-flecked darkness seeped from his figure. And when he stepped up to his mate, lifting his newly tattooed hand to her cheek and the other to the small of her back. When Feyre’s own arms wrapped around his neck and their lips met sure and true. The High Lord’s magic flowed alongside his High Lady’s. The two powers danced in and out of each other, towards the world beyond. Dark and Bright. Night and Starlight. Rhysand and Feyre.

~~~

*Ugly crying noises* urgh i really love these two with all my heart they deserve everything.

So i ended up changing a few things canonically. I changed Feyre's right arm tattoo as display of her mateship and gave her the knee tattoo (the same as Rhys') to commemorate her being the High Lady. And it never made sense to me that Rhys never got a tattoo that represent the bargain he made with Feyre or their mateship so I gave him the same one as Feyre #coupletattoos (seriously tho its a bad idea, don't ever do it irl). Please let me know if you liked this and go easy on me, this was my first ever crack at writing fanfiction.