#I don't know how to move tags sorry the CW's are further down I had planned to move them but can't on mobile

[billowingangel]

America doesn't like Fireworks

Here's a headcanon/projection I have for America. I also thought I already posted this but I actually dreamt that…totally not a sign of #mentalillness

content warning: mentions of multiple real life deaths, great war and world war two are mentioned, mentions of ptsd/shell shock.

i'm not fully sure those need a warning but just in case I wanted to provide them.

At first America loved fireworks to celebrate the fourth of july. He had loved the display of colors and patronism his citizens showed! He was a freshly indepent nation when the fireworks began in 1777. He thought they were beautiful, amazing, spectacular, and a wonderful sign of what the future would hold.

He also greatly prefered fireworks to the guns and canons set off during the 4th and was happy that after 1812 that phased out.

When Independence Day became an offical holiday in 1870 he cried with joy. That year he watched the firework display with an intense feeling of pride in his heart.

But then it began to change for him. In the years between 1903 and 1909 there were 44 deaths due to fireworks and even more injuries. He began to feel a bit of unease over the citizen's love for fireworks.

Then the Great War happened...So many young men came back from the war shell shocked. Hell, America even had some shell shock for a while. That first year after the war and the fireworks going off, he felt all those men's fears and his own fear.

That was a major turning point for him.

It didn't help that between 1928 and 1942 there were another 56 deaths in factories and stores due to fireworks. And then after World War Two, the sound of fireworks began to make America's heart race.

After a few years America decided he would leave his big house in Washington DC and go to another one of his houses. This house was further away from any firework show the city was doing. He wouldn't feel anxious and would be able to celebrate his independence/birthday in peace and quiet. But by that time it was the 1980s and more people were doing fireworks in the comfort of their backyards. The noise and smoke that filled the street of America's suburban house terrified him. Were they under attack? He had rushed to investigate only to find people with fireworks and firecrackers.

America gave up, it was probably just him upset by this whole mess. Those who had shell shock probably got used to it by now, correct?

But then in the 2000s he began to hear more talk, more talk of veterans struggling with the fireworks. Dogs struggling with the fireworks. Pets, kids, many more people then he assumed were scared of the loud fireworks. And in a way it explained to him why at the turn on the 1900s he began to have a change of heart about fireworks, a feeling of unease and uncomfort. Because despite how much he partied or celebrated on July 4th he still just didn't feel right, that something was wrong.

Then more and more states began to ban the setting off of fireworks for personal use but that wouldn't stop the citizens despite the growing number of people who found discomfort with them. America wouldn't go anywhere in the South around the 4th of July mostly staying in States that had the strictest bans on fireworks. By this time his fear of fireworks had greatly decreased especially since he realized the cause, it wasn't all his feelings but Americans feelings as well.

He even began to host some birthday parties where you could see the city sanctioned firework show. Firework shows were different to him then just the random ones in someone's back yard, those were expected, well controlled, a professional was doing it.

America hopes that one day he'll be able to like fireworks again but that probably wouldn't be until people stopped doing it on their own or when people and animals stopped being upset by it. Both those cases seem unlikely, so America will just grit his teeth and accept the firework tradition.

I even used some sources for this *insert surprise pikachu* History of Fireworks Firework Accidents and Deaths I couldn't find out when it became the norm to do your own fireworks but I assumed at least by the 80s. I also believe states began putting in place bans/laws about personal fireworks in the early 2000s but don't quote me.

[russellsppttemplates]

It's just the beggining (Oscar Piastri)

Oscar hasn't done or said anything, so you're taking matters into your own hands

Note: english is not my first language. It's my first Oscar piece and I'm nervous posting this, but hopefully you enjoy it! 🫶

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Cw: mentions reader's grandparents' health issues, mentions the situation with McLaren and Daniel, insomnia

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog

"Hey, Y/N!", James called you once he saw you walk by his classroom, "hey", you greeted back, adjusting your books on your arms.

"There is a new kid, I'm sure you know, Oscar Piastri his name is, and apparently he's staying the long weekend too, like you", he trailed off, not knowing if he was stepping further than he should.

"Yes, I am staying, it's okay to talk about it", you gave him tight lipped smile, "well, I was hoping you'd keep him company - he's a bit shy, but he's very fun to be around and the teacher also thought it would be good since you're both staying", he reasoned as you nodded.

You had to stay back because your grandparents didn't live in England, and because of their old age and problems that naturally arose with that, your parents had to fly out and spend sometime with them, meaning you didn't have anyone back home, so you stayed. As for Oscar, you found out that he was staying back because his family was in Melbourne.

"At first, I just had online schooling, but it got trickier to manage and my dad needed to go back to work so I had to stay back", he explained when you asked him why he was there, "and I hope I can focus on racing, but you already know that", he scoffed softly.

"I don't think I do, I'm sorry", you narrowed your eyes, genuinely unaware of what he was talking about.

After he told you all about his career until that moment, as well as his hopes and dreams, he chuckled, "you really didn't know?", he wondered.

"I didn't! The girls said something about you moving here but I didn't listen much, I'm not that into gossip and my memory is like Dory's, I can never keep up with the latest who likes who and who flirted with what's his face", you earnestly replied.

For the first time since he arrived at the school, he felt like he could really trust someone and he could hope for new friendships on this side of the world.

You were there for his final race in F4, clapping at him on the podium, and even F3 and F2 despite your university deadlines, always making sure you could support him in every way you could.

"Hey, Osc", you said over the phone, setting your pen down the desk and swivelling in the chair. You wanted to get as much knowledge and experience as possible, so you applied to do a internship in a physiotherapy clinic near your apartment during the summer.

"Hey, Y/N, how are you doing?", he asked as you could notice the antsyness on his voice.

"I'm good, it's a bit of a slow day here, my supervisor said I could read up on a few articles", you mused, "is everything okay?", you asked.

"I was wondering if you wanted to have dinner tonight", he began, "you can come to my flat if that's okay, I'll order something in since I can't be trusted in the kitchen", he suggested.

"Fine by me, I'd like that, sounds really nice", you smiled, "I'll see you soon, then", you added, not wanting to dwell much on the fact that he didn't answer your question.

When you left the clinic, you walked to Oscar's place since the sun had graced you for the day and it was still nice to be out. Knocking on the door, you waited for him to open it, "I'm still in my scrubs as I didn't see the need to change", you said as you walked inside, hugging Oscar after dropping your backpack on the floor.

"Hey, you look nice, don't worry about it", he smiled as he led you to the living room, "I had to go and get the take out myself, but it's still warm", he said as you sat at the dining table.

"Now can you tell me if there's something wrong?", you wondered as you poured some of the wine he kept for you at his place on your glass.

"I have something to tell you actually", he played with his glass while he fought the smile on his lips, "this weekend I finally had some conversations with McLaren", he began.

"McLaren?", you asked as you served yourself of the food in front of you, taking some bimi brocoli and then some of the warm noodles.

"Yes, McLaren. We finally spoke about contracts and, this morning, I signed the official driver contract for next season", he stated as if he was saying that the sun had been out today.

"You did what? Since when has this been in the works?", you gasped, dropping the kitchen utensils and looking at him intently, "you're driving for McLaren next season?", he nodded, "like, driving on track? Oh my Goodness, Oscar! That's amazing!", you got up and hugged him, "why didn't you lead with that?", you pinched the nape of his neck playfully as you kept the tears from falling from your eyes. This was his dream and he was getting to live it as early as the end of the year when pre season preparations began.

"I didn't want to tell you over the phone", he shrugged his shoulders.

"But how? This is huge, Oscar!", you smiled, your teeth showing and eyes squinting with how high your cheeks rose.

"There were a lot of conversations about it, specially the last few weeks", Oscar explained, "they still want to keep it quiet", he warned.

"So you're driving alongside Lando?", you wondered. You only followed motorsport and the Formula series because of your bestfriend, so the assumption you made was based on what you had seen and read.

"Yes, hence why they want to keep it quiet, I've only told you and my family", he mentioned, "my manager knows that, obviously, but I really need you to keep quiet about it", he smiled.

"Absolutely, don't worry!", you assured, "this is so amazing Oscar! You're going to drive in Formula One! Aren't you amazed?", you beamed.

"I put in the work too, you know?", he dramatically feigned offense as you hugged him tighter, "this is your dream, Osc", you cooed, letting the tears fall freely down your cheeks as you swayed you both around, "I'm so proud of you", you hiccuped, holding his head close to your lips so you could kiss his forehead.

"Let's eat, this is getting cold", your best friend urged as the situation for more intimate and brought you closer and closer to the thing he had been avoiding for nearly a year.

The feelings he had been arbouring for you weren't just friendship. How could he keep himself from being in love with you? You had been there with him and for him when he was alone in a new country, being the other shy kid that spent the long weekend im boarding school, and since then you had been attached by the hip. You were kind, caring, intelligent, beautiful inside and outside and anyone would be a fool to not see why Oscar felt the way he did about you.

.

"I'm just going to a training camp, Y/N, I do these every year!", Oscar reasoned as you groaned.

"Who am I going to complain to about university? Or how noisy my neighbours are? I'm going to die of boredom", you stated, "when you come back, I will have ceased to exist because of boredom and lack of attention", you exaggeratedly threw yourself on your sofa.

"You won't, silly", he chuckled, pulling you up since his trainer was picking him up soon, "you're going to go out and enjoy yourself, okay? You'll barely notice I'm gone", he tried as you helped him with his suitcases down to the door.

"I'll miss you", you muttered as you hugged him, "enjoy your training camp!", you smiled as you pulled away, waving at him before you made your way to your place.

Getting on with the project you had to hand in at the end of the week, you got it all through to the end, leaving time to proofread later.

You clicked on the folder where you kept your photos and videos, looking through them and reliving all of the memories you had in there.

Most of them had Oscar somehow, wether it was a screen grab from one of your FaceTime calls when he was at races, picnics in the park and lazy days at your place.

You had to admit it, for your sake and Oscar's sake as your friendship was on the line. At first you thought it was just the fact that a boy seemed to want to spend time with you, so you put it to that. Recently, however, things changed perspective and you felt stronger feelings and emotions when you thought about him.

You loved spending time with him and cherished every single hour he chose to spend with you whenever he didn't have racing related duties. Every time he hugged you, you clung just a little longer to feel hia body against yours and his arms enveloping you.

Whenever someone approached you in the rare times you went out clubbing with your friends, "I have a boyfriend" became more a wish and a need rather than some made up excuse to get guys to leave you alone.

So, to sum it up, you either had an honest conversation with him or continued to dwell on feelings you couldn't keep to yourself.

.

"Y/N just sent me a picture of her notes, can you believe they ask them to know all of that?", he showed his trainer Kim while they had lunch after a strenuous workout.

"I had to learn most of that, too", he said nonchalantly, not necessarily diminishing your competences and intelligence but letting Oscar know that maybe his infatuation with you had a source elsewhere.

"Y/N is very smart, I'm sure she'll do really well - oh, she sent me a picture, she's all dressed up!", he said as he inspected the mirror picture. He assumed it was a requirement for your presentation, as you usually preferred comfy attire, since you had a pair of trousers and a shirt, some small heels on your feet and your bright smile that left him feeling butterflies in his stomach every single time, "she looks gorgeous", he said as he texted you the same words along with wishes of good luck.

"Something you'd like to say?", Oscar quesioned when he felt Kim's eyes on him as he put the phone back on the table, screen down.

"I'm just here wondering why you're not together", the trainer offered simply after he wiped his mouth on the napkin.

"No, we are not together, at least not yet", he mused. The thought had crossed his mind, admitting how he felt about you before the season began. If everything went belly up and you didn't feel the same and didn't see him that way, he would occupy his time and channel all of his energy into racing; if you did feel the same, he would have been worrying for nothing and would have a extra spring up his step for his first season in Formula One.

"Good to know you're working on it", Kim waved his fork at Oscar, "now we need to finish this and we'll do some recovery stretches", he announced as Oscar groaned, prolonging his meal as long as he could.

.

Today, Oscar was coming back from Lanzarote and you couldn't wait to speak to him. Lately, it all dawned on you.

It happened a couple of nights ago, a slight insomnia episode keeping you up when you thought about what things would be like from now on. Oscar would travel a lot more, and he would be in a much public role compared to his previous one. It would seem stupid to other people, but a lot more people would know him, and you were sure they would fall in love with him. How could they not? Hence why you wanted to quit those thoughts while you were ahead of them.

I'm on the cab to your place, it should take another 10 minutes and Can't wait to see you, Oscar texted you just as you finished tidying your living room.

You missed him dearly, so when you threw yourself into his arms, you didn't let go as he kicked his suitcases into your apartment while still holding close to him, "I kind of need to get my backpack off my back, and I can't do that if I don't set you somewhere - only for a bit at the very least", Oscar suggested after trying to balance you against his body with one arm but he didn't feel safe enough to let you go without you falling.

Reluctantly, you got back down, feet back on the floor as he discarded his backpack before he tapped your hip twice, "up again, I want a proper hug", he mumbled as you jumped back, his hands protectively holding your thighs up as he nuzzled his face on your neck, "I need you so, so much", he sighed.

"I missed you too", you replied back, "and I don't ever want to miss you like this when I don't know how to feel about you", you forwarded. Now or never, you thought as you jumped out of his hold and faced him.

"I missed you like I have never missed you before, not even when you go a visit your family or when you went away for triple headers - and I've been trying to understand why and I finally realised what it was. I like you, more than friends like eachother - for Goodness' sake, I'm in love with you", you chuckled nervously as you admitted it out loud to him, "and everyone else will love you too - I just know it -, so soon enough you won't be my Osc anymore and I couldn't not tell you. People - and these gorgeous girls all over the world - are going to like you so much and I won't be able to compete with them, so I'm just telling you how I feel. You can leave if you want or we'll just stay here in silence of that works too, but I needed to admit my feelings", you let out in one go.

Oscar smiled, a big teeth and gums showing smile as his eyes crinkled at your words, "I'm not leaving, and we are not going to be silent - at least immediately - because I want to tell you how I feel", he began, "I'm in love with you too; I have been for about two years and only realised it a year ago, and I don't want to pretend anymore. I want to be able to kiss you, to hug you, to take you with me wherever possible, to sleep next to you, to argue with you, I want all of it. With you", he said, hand cupping your cheek as his eyes asked for consent to kiss your lips.

It was as you dreamed it would be, soft, gentle and caring, lips moving in sync as you held him by his waist, pulling him closer to you.

"I thought I was loosing you to the whole F1 fandom", you chuckled, looking up at him once you pulled away.

"Of course you won't, you're my best girl", he winked, "this is just the beggining for us", he added as he pulled you to cuddle on the sofa, sharing his stories of the past days as you revelled in the feeling of being in his arms.

[lucagray813]

A Need to be Better - Chapter 2

Rating: Gen

Word Count: 3,602

Characters: Mei, Macaque, MK, Wukong

Relationships: Mei & Macaque, MK & Wukong

Summary: Mei is determined to be ready for whatever comes next and Macaque is going to help her whether he wants to or not!

Additional Tags: Mentor Macaque

CW: None

Link to AO3 Version

Chapter: 2/2

Chapter Navigation: 1 | 2

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"Alright Shīfu, lay it on me! What's the plan?"

Macaque quirked a brow at the title but seemed to decide it wasn't worth commenting on. Instead, with a somewhat worrying grin, he said, "First off, why don't we set the tone for the day?"

With a snap of his fingers, Mei suddenly found herself staring at a blackboard from her new seat at the school desk that had materialised from the shadows. She stared uncomprehendingly at the ancient Chinese that covered the blackboard for a moment before the horror of the situation caught up to her.

"No! I did my time! You can't make me go back!"

This was like something out of her nightmares! She should have known that he was capable of something this sick and twisted!

But while she'd been manhandled into the chair, no shadows held her down, and while she thrashed about pitifully, she made no move to leave.

Macaque simply grinned, apparently pleased by her anguish.

Turning and gesturing to the board, he explained, "Today, we will be discussing your lesson plan. And at the end, you can decide if you want to take it or leave it. But keep in mind that this is your only option if you want me to train you."

She took a moment to lament her position before she resolved herself to focus. This was just to go over the plan, after all. Surely, this whole classroom get up was just a bit?

God, please let it just be a bit.

Despite feeling increasingly worried about what she might be signing herself up for, she nodded for him to continue.

Bizarrely however, he instead pulled a face before pinching the bridge of his nose with a groan, "Before we go any further, tell me, how do you feel about having classmates for the day? Otherwise I'm going to have to relocate today's lesson somewhere more remote."

A portal opened beside her and an oddly coloured butterfly and equally oddly coloured cat dropped out of it.

Immediately, she was on her feet, "Seriously?! You were spying again?"

A quick transformation from both of them revealed a sheepish Monkey King and an irritated MK.

Monkey King was quick to defended their innocence, "Hey! We were being responsible heroes and making sure that he wasn't torturing you!" He gestured at the setup and added, "And it's a good thing we did because it's even worse than I could have ever imagined!"

MK shot him an annoyed look before turning to her, "I wasn't spying, I was trying to stop him from spying!" He then took a step forward and stage whispered, "To be honest, I think he's a little bit sensitive that Macaque might upstage him as a mentor."

Wukong whipped around, aghast at his student's betrayal, "I am not sensitive!"

His brain clearly caught up with his mouth a second too late and with as much dignity as he could muster in the face of everyone's unimpressed and knowing looks he stood tall and awkwardly coughed, "I mean, I was just worried about Mei! Sorry for trying to look out for your best friend!"

At Macaque's derisive scoff, he turned to glare at him as if this was all his fault.

MK was clearly not in the mood for Monkey King's issues today, and shook his head in disappointment before focusing on her, "I'm sorry about this. I'll get him out of here and you can get back to it."

His comment interrupted the very mature mystic monkey mentor glaring match that was going on. And with a final sneer Macaque walked over and offered, "Or we can just get out of here and remove the temptation for Mr. Sensitive to spy all together."

It was tempting. And not that she didn't trust MK to keep Monkey King away but focusing in a "classroom" was difficult enough without any extra distractions.

So she nodded, "Let's go. MK, I'll fill you in when we get back. Monkey King, find something better to do with your time! God, go to therapy or something!"

His indignant spluttering was quickly lost to the shadows and she took a moment to take in her surroundings while Macaque quietly chuckled to himself.

It looked like he had brought them to some remote mountain range - all she could see for miles around was rocky terrain. And it was eerily quiet, with little to no flora or fauna - the polar opposite of Monkey King's island.

The words boring and depressing came to mind.

Macaque sighed contently and pretended to wipe a tear from his eye, "Ah. The look on his face. Priceless. Well handled, kid."

Her desk had come with her so she sat back down with a huff and asked rhetorically, "Why is he like this?"

Macaque shrugged, "Who knows? Maybe someone dropped him while he was a stone egg."

She huffed a small laugh before putting Monkey King to the back of her mind.

Glancing around again, she asked, "Where are we?"

"Just an old haunt of mine back before the Monkey King ever darkened my doorway. He doesn't know about it so we should be safe from any more interruptions."

She suddenly doubted the wisdom of her decision to blithely accompany Macaque somewhere unknown and isolated.

No one knew where they were.

She shook off the creeping dread. She and MK had prepared for this - they had spent all day yesterday making contingency plans on the off chance Macaque showed his true colours.

And, of course, she wasn't going down without a fight.

But for the moment she was giving him the benefit of the doubt.

She tried to find something nice to say about Macaque's former residence, "It's... homey?"

Macaque scoffed at her attempt, "Let's just get down to business."

He flipped over the blackboard and explained, "This is a rough outline of what I've got planned although it is subject to change as I get to know you better and depending on how you progress. But-"

She interrupted him, "Wait, wait, wait! If this is the plan then what the hell was on the other side of the board?"

He grinned, "Oh that? Just my way of having a little fun. Why don't you ask Wukong about it when you get a chance?"

She narrowed her eyes before guessing, "Did you know he was going to spy on us?"

Still smiling, he shrugged, "I knew it was a possibility."

A little incredulous, she asked, "So what? Did you just write out a whole load of trash talk that only he would be able to read on the off chance that he might see it? Dude, you need to get a life."

He laughed, "Hey, I've heard journalling is meant to be good for you. It was cathartic if nothing else. Now, we're here to talk about your issues not mine-"

She muttered, "Thank god."

He ignored her, "-so without further ado..."

Thankfully his lesson plan was more impressive than his "journalling".

He had broken it down into four sections - mediation, strategy, combat practice and dragon abilities. In her humble opinion however, two of those sounded leagues more exciting than the other two.

She was surprised by his proposal for mediation though.

Restraining himself to only being slightly belittling, he explained that he didn't foresee her having success with traditional meditation any time soon. And honestly, she didn't have much room to argue, just the thought of sitting and breathing for any amount of time was almost enough to bore her to tears.

Instead, he suggested she practice martial art forms in a slow and controlled manner, both with and without her sword. The aim was to focus on developing patience and mindfulness but obviously learning new forms would also be beneficial for combat.

While she had some reservations about the whole "patience and mindfulness" thing, form practice was a hundred times better than actual meditation!

Though Macaque made sure to stress that they would be working towards other mindful practices, such as the traditional meditation she so dreaded. But who knew when, or if, they'd actually get to that point so she didn't let herself worry about it.

Next came strategy, and it was easily the least exciting section.

It involved actual book learning, with pre-assigned materials she would be expected to comment on. And on top of that, Macaque would give her scenarios, both combat related and not, that she needed to create successful plans for. Plans that she then had to be able to defend as he tore them to shreds.

Some of these scenarios would take the form of a verbal discussion but unbelievably he expected her to write essays on occasion too.

Petulantly, she had pointed out that MK never had to do writing assignments or homework. But he had just relished in her suffering while reminding her that if she didn't like it then she could just walk away now.

Well, she'd come this far, she may as well see this through to the end at least. The rest of his proposal might win her over yet.

Although he really was doing his best to make combat practice sound as unappealing as possible. Labouring the point that it was going to be task specific - focused on a specific element such as blocking or dodging. They'd also be spending a significant amount of time reviewing her performance post-fight - highlighting areas of improvement as needed.

While she was initially very put out by the very limited nature of combat practice, he finally threw her a bone and told her that they would also have the all-out fight she craved every once in a while too. After all, all of this theory meant nothing if she couldn't put it into practice.

He refused to confirm exactly how often this would be but he advised it would probably be at least once or twice a month.

She was already plotting on ways she could bump that up to at least once a week.

And lastly, was his plan to explore her dragon abilities. He admitted this would be more of an experimental lesson, subject to change depending on what they discovered. But together they would try to uncover the full extent of her dragon abilities and how best to utilise them.

It was possibly the most exciting part of his whole plan but as ever he had to knock the wind out of her sails. Although she was pretty sure he hadn't even meant to this time.

"While I do have some knowledge of dragons, I'm no expert. You, however, are from a long line of dragons. I'd recommend asking about or checking out whatever resources you have at your disposal. If you find anything of interest then we'll see if we can work with it."

If only if it was as easy as that.

Unfortunately, her relationship with her family could be... difficult.

Don't get her wrong, she loved them and she knew they loved her but rarely did they see eye to eye. Her parents, in particular, never approved of anything she did.

And to that end, she hadn't really talked to them about what she had been through since MK had picked up the staff.

She'd given them a basic run down, purposely excluding a couple of important details regarding the Samadhi Fire and the Memory Scroll, and that had been discouraging enough.

Obviously, they were proud of her but they clearly weren't a fan of her being a full time hero. They worried about her safety, of course, but also they worried about how her conduct reflected on them and the rest of the family.

So she had serious doubts they would be eager to help with her training.

That's not to say there weren't other people she could ask but there's no way her mother wouldn't hear about it. She didn't think there was a single soul in any of the dragon clans that would risk her wrath. And not telling her that her daughter had been snooping around behind her back? Oh, it'd be bad for everybody involved.

Especially her.

She hadn't realised how long she'd been silent until Macaque cleared his throat to get her attention, "I really thought my next suggestion was going to be the sticking point... Although maybe the two are related?"

Intelligently, she responded, "Huh?"

He, thankfully, didn't call her out on her lack of eloquence. In fact, he actually seemed to be gearing himself up for what he wanted to say next, "Well... I think it's fair to say that you've been through a lot..."

He coughed awkwardly at her unimpressed look.

At least he had the good grace to somewhat acknowledge that he'd had a hand in that, she supposed. Though she couldn't say that she wasn't looking forward to the opportunity to air out some of her grievances during combat training.

He quickly pushed on, "And that can have a detrimental effect on your progress. So that's why I think that you should consider therapy."

Whatever she had expected him to say, it wasn't that but honestly it was crazy that she hadn't thought of it herself. So after a moment of stunned silence, she responded, "Oh yeah, totally. I am way overdue getting myself a therapist. I guess I better talk to Sandy and see if he's got any recommendations."

Finally, it was Macaque's turn to be on the back foot, apparently caught off guard by her easy acceptance.

She laughed, "Dude, everyone goes to therapy these days! Did you think I was going to fly off the handle or something? Besides, if I go I can probably bully MK into going too because boy does he need it!"

He huffed, "You said it. Well, at least you've got a better chance of convincing him than you do Wukong, that's for sure."

She laughed sharply, "Can you imagine? Honestly, I feel for the poor sucker that landed the Monkey King as a client!"

A surprised laugh escaped him and she had a feeling that any dig made towards the Monkey King was probably enough to bring a smile to his face.

Maybe once she and MK were on board the therapy train they could team up and get their respective monkeys to go to therapy too.

She couldn't think of two people that needed it more.

Slipping back into teacher mode, Macaque picked back up from where he left off, "Well, therapy and dragon resources aside for the moment, that's the rough outline of the lesson plan. As for the schedule..."

A well organised folder appeared on the desk before her and she raised an eyebrow at it before flipping it open to reveal that the first page was the proposed timetable.

At a glance, it looked like he was suggesting training four consecutive mornings in a row and then taking a days break. She was surprised to see that Mr. "I'll work you hard!" had even factored in breaks on training days too.

She looked up as he commented, "Now, this is an area where there is some leeway. I don't know what you get up to during the week so if you're prepared to take this forward then we can discuss when and where we should train."

She turned her attention back to the folder and flicked through it.

She really couldn't get over the fact that he'd put this together for her - it must have taken him hours...

Why go to all this effort?

She wanted to be suspicious but she was finding it difficult in the face of a genuine lesson plan, tailored specifically to her.

This could be exactly what she needed.

Still, she had to ask, "Why are you doing this?"

He shrugged, "Getting to piss off Wukong and increasing my odds of surviving the apocalypse? It's a no-brainer really."

Doubtful, she responded, "Yeah, ok... But this is a lot of effort to put in just to spite Monkey King, isn't it?"

He huffed, "Unlike some people, if I'm going to do something then I'm going to do it right. Which is why it's my way or the highway. So on that note, what'll it be, kid?"

She wanted to say she gave it a lot of thought but the truth was that this was just too good an offer to pass up.

Sure, it was going to be hard and she was going to have to spend a disgusting amount of time with Macaque but where else was she going to find an opportunity like this?

She grinned, "When do we start?"

----

Wukong managed to stop spluttering long enough to gesture at the spot Mei and Macaque had disappeared, "Can you believe those two! The nerve! Where do they get off-?"

"Monkey King."

Oh, that wasn't a happy sounding MK.

Turning around warily to face his successor he was immediately cowed by the disapproval he was met with.

He tried to reason with him, "Now, bud, I can see that you're unhappy but-"

"But what, Monkey King? I told you to leave it but you came and butted in anyway."

Shame and indignation started to war within him and he immediately defended himself, "I didn't "butt in"! I was a butterfly about a mile away! It was Macaque that portaled us into the middle of it all!"

MK was unmoved and his disappointed stare was really starting to get to him. But he wasn't in the wrong here! He had every right to be suspicious of Macaque and he had a responsibility to ensure no-one got caught up in the crossfire between the two of them.

The occasional check in with his golden vision had confirmed that Macaque had spent an excessive amount of time working on this supposed lesson plan and he just couldn't figure out why he was willing to go to such lengths for Mei of all people.

Had they had some sort of serious bonding experience while fighting Peng or something? It just wasn't like him to go out of his way like this for someone he wasn't close to.

Ok, sure, he could very privately admit that he was curious as to how he measured up against Macaque as a mentor - sue him - but that wasn't his primary motivation.

No-one knew better than him how dangerous Macaque truly was and he refused to take the risk that this wasn't all part of some scheme to get to him.

But at the same time, good intentions or not, he had still ignored MK's warnings to leave well enough alone, waving off his concerns while knowing full well he was planning to spy on them.

And that encouraged him to come clean.

"Look... I'm sorry I didn't listen, alright? I know that you're trying to give Macaque his "redemption arc", or whatever, but you have to understand, we've been at each other's throats for a long time. I can't just believe that he's suddenly turned over a new leaf."

MK's expression softened but he still wasn't happy, "Then say that. Talk to me instead of going behind my back. I know you're still getting used to having people around but you've got to be realising that it's so much better when we work together. If you had just talked to me about it instead of going off on your own then..."

He trailed off with a tired sigh and with that shame had officially won out over any indignation. He was supposed to be working on this, to be restoring his faith in him and proving himself worthy of his trust.

Sincerely apologetic, he responded, "You're right, kid. And I'm sorry. I promise I really am trying to get better at talking to you... But I guess I just didn't even think about it this time. I just slipped back into the habit... just like that."

His master would be ashamed of him.

MK took a breath, before offering him a small smile, "I know. Look, we're not going to solve this overnight so how about we have our own training session and then I'll tell you all about the safety precautions me and Mei have set up to ease your concerns about Macaque?"

That caught his attention, "Safety precautions?"

MK walked towards the edge of the cliff as he explained, "We're giving Macaque a chance but we've not forgotten what he's done or what he's capable of. We've got panic buttons, we've got trackers on our phones, and we even found some nifty artefacts in the vault! But most importantly, we talk to each other - Macaque's not going to say a word that the other's not going to hear about. He's not going to be able to manipulate us that easily."

He caught MK's pointed look at the "talk to each other" part and while he had the good grace to be contrite, he was incredibly reassured that they weren't just blindly trusting Macaque.

He couldn't help but grin as he brought a hand to MK's shoulder, "And this is why you're the plan man."

MK shot him a smile before he and Wukong jumped in tandem and took to the skies.

As they flew, he silently promised he was going to take MK's words to heart. If he'd just voiced his concerns earlier then he could have avoided this whole mess, maybe could have even added some safety precautions of his own. He still could when they talked later.

He could only be grateful MK was so forgiving but he swore he was going to prove himself worthy of that forgiveness.

He was going to be better.

--End--

Previous Chapter

LMK Fanfic Masterlist

[rindecisions]

Only What You Need

Made for @strangerthingswritersguild Daily Prompt

Prompt | My hero

Rating | Mature WC | 797 Ship | Steddie CW | Blood Drinking Tags | Vampire Eddie Munson, Willing Victim, Mild Sexual Themes

Part of my Vampire Eddie Munson Series: Bloodlust

༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒

Steve's heart rate was going wild as he offered his wrist to Eddie. He couldn't believe he was about to willingly let a vampire drink from him, but it was Eddie... and he was starving. How could he turn a blind eye to that? He glanced over and their eyes met with Eddie's mouth open and less than an inch from his skin. He couldn't get over Eddie's solid black eyes.

By the worried look on Steve's face, Eddie could tell that he wasn't exactly thrilled about the situation. "I don't have to do this," he reluctantly explained, swallowing the begging saliva that pooled in his mouth. "I can find someone else.”

Steve cringed. "You can barely walk, how are you supposed to get to anyone else?" He extended his wrist and tightened his fist.

The action made Steve's veins bulge and Eddie gulped. His saliva thickened with a numbing agent from the sight alone.

"I'm more worried that if you don't, you'll die or something," Steve muttered.

"Technically, I'm already dead, but yeah. Give me a couple more days and I hear the bloodlust does awful things to you." He brought Steve's wrist up to his face. He could feel Steve tense in anticipation, but he simply smelled the area and ran his gently parted lips over it.

"Then—" Steve was confused by the way Eddie was acting. It was almost as if he was getting high off of him. His eyes were closed with a relaxed and oddly elegant expression. "Then just take what you need, man," he stated firmly.

"Thank you," Eddie sighed sincerely and a little pathetically as he finally wrapped his lips around Steve's wrist.

Steve looked away and preemptively winced, but to his surprise, all he felt was Eddie licking him. It was weird and confusing on multiple levels. For one he'd never had anyone lick his wrist before, on the other, he kind of liked it and didn't know what to do with that information. He cringed at the confusingly gross and arousing feeling of Eddie's tongue writhing on his skin.

It went on for a bit, but before he could say anything, he gasped at the strangest sensation of his skin breaking under Eddie's sharp canines. The weirdest part was that it didn't really hurt. It stung a little, but not much more than getting a shot.

Eddie's eyes rolled up as soon as he pulled his fangs out of Steve's skin and the blood hit his tongue. He retracted his fangs as to not further injure him as he eagerly clamped down on his wrist and sucked deeply. He shuddered at the heavenly flavor and already feeling his strength return.

Steve groaned at Eddie's grip on his arm tightening. A pleased moan came from Eddie. It urged Steve to glance over at him with wide eyes. He only got a glimpse of Eddie's pleasure stricken face before his long hair fell in front of it. The urge to move it startled him.

He watched Eddie's body slightly writhe as he drank his blood. Small, almost erotic sounds came for Eddie, and he could swear he was grinding his hips. Was he getting off on it? "Eddie?" he grunted when the grip on his arm got uncomfortably tight.

Eddie glanced up at Steve with wide eyes, showing that his irises had changed to a deep blood red. "Shit, sorry," he exclaimed, frantically licking at the bleeding punctures on Steve's wrist until they stopped bleeding entirely. The punctures were still there, but they'd been sealed with another feature of his saliva.

He was still hungry, but that was more than enough to get back on his feet. With a sigh, he released and pried his eyes away from the still very tempting arm. "You really are my fucking hero, Harrington. Is there anything I can do to repay you?”

Steve furrowed his brows while examining the punctures on his wrist. He hadn't considered getting anything in return. He just wanted Eddie to feel better. He ran his thumb over the puncture points.

"Careful with those. Treat it like a delicate scab until your body can create its own.”

"Right," he nodded and lowered his arm. "Now what?”

"I'm assuming I get out of your hair," Eddie chuckled. "Unless there's anything I can do for you.”

Steve shook his head. "Just don't let yourself get that bad again.”

Eddie huffed a laugh. "That's fair. Wouldn't want some monster like me to come knocking at your door again, right?”

"If you need it, I'd rather you come here than suffer alone, alright."

The offer made Eddie swallow, but he gave him a small nod. He hadn't really had any allies in all of this, so it was nice to hear that. "Thanks.”

[noomiisz]

CW: Face Stepping, Degredation, Masochism, Neglect Play(?), Public Humiliation. Zhongli being a pervert. Obsessive behavior from Zhongli. Masterkink. A lot of masochism.

Yoohoo. More Zhongli based on this post by @kazuunya

I have another idea in mind after this one. My drafts are being clogged.

Months Later: I come back and more extreme than ever. Please let me know if I missed a tag, it's a lot. Also tumblr, please don't kill me.

He was clinging onto you in such a public place. The people in the other tables and streets couldn't see how much affection he wanted to give you at first glance, but if they looked closer, he was quite attached to your body as you both ate your lunch. It was quite surprising considering how stoic Zhongli is.

It was even more of a surprise to see you push him off of you. He laid on the ground, eyes wide as he looks up at your figure. The unimpressed look in your eye gives him shivers.

This is actually exactly what he wanted.

Not just the degrading eyes of you, but the now shocked public looking down on him. Although unaware he was once their god, the change from worship and respectful looks, to gazes that show less of a concern was drastic to him, and he couldn't definitely feel it.

You get closer and gently drag a finger under his chin. Ah, those eyes are looking down at him with such intimidation, he can't help but feel himself getting hard. Everyone might see just how much of a pervert he actually is.

But you guide him gently with only your hands, commanding him silently to get up and walk with you.

Gazes following your moves until you were beyond where you first were. Bringing him close to the funeral parlor, but shoving him into an alley to make work of him.

"What kind of act were you doing? Have you swapped minds with Tartaglia or something?" A shiver runs downs his spine and he can't help but fall to his knees again.

You roughly place your foot on his face, enough to make a mark.

"You're acting really pathetic right now. It's disgusting. You need to quit it." And you immediately start walking away.

This isn't what he wanted. Wait. It's been too long. He was expecting you to kick him and stomp his face into the ground. He was expecting you to break him in front of a grand audience.

While on the floor, Zhongli crawls. Pathetically. Inch by inch in desperate attempts he reaches out for your everfleeting leg.

"W-Wait. . . Don't go . .

Please. . . PLEASE!!"

A few of his fingers maage to cling on to your ankle, making you notice he had followed you back out almost onto the main street.

His eyes are pleading for your attention, almost shaking at the thought of you leaving sgain. A few minutes of silence before you decide to give him a chance.

"You understand I'm not gonna give you what you want when you're such a brat. Nod or else, remove your hand."

What a desperate puppy, nodding his head so willingly and like a starved man begging for food, so uncharacteristic of him.

"Please-master. I'm sorry for the way I acted. It will never happened again."

His grip strengthens on your leg for fear of you walking balk onto the streets, but he fails to notice your other leg ready to crush his back.

"-ugh-" He coughs up a little as a reaction. Zhongli shakes.

Yes. This is what he wanted.

"You don't deserve this, but since you apologized properly. . ."

Another stomp stops him from moving any further.

"I guess you can have your perverted ways just this once."

Oh, he was reveling in the attention, being kicked back into the alley so you can have your way with him. He felt warm and fuzzy and numb. The haziness of his minds as you continue to shove him around like garbage. He feels so stiff, but wants to move so much to draw attention to his dick. He wants more, he's so greedy.

Leaned against the wall, sitting once again, Zhongli places his hands down on the ground and humps the air and ruts like a dog.

"M-master--mm"

Oh what a fucking slut he was. A simple stomp of your foot to between his legs sent his head flying back and his eyes rolling. The sweat dripping down each inch of his body and the heavy, hot breathes matched well with his flsuhed cheeks.

And then his mind starts to wonder back to the publics eyes on him. Imagining if they were right here, right now. He wanted it, the greedy slut.

Smack. "Stop thinking about earlier. You don't deserve an inch of your fantasies."Smack. "You're already lucky with this one."

Zhongli knew. He was so greedy though. So so greedy. He wanted it. The attention. The degradation. All of it.

He mutters half-hearted apologies.

"I'm sorry master." Smack.

"I have sinned greatly." Kick.

"I'm a horny -umm- pervert." Slam

"Anh. .mm I-I" He couldn't apologize anymore. All he do was get caught in his lustful perverted ways, but this is what he wanted.

Zhongli looks up you with a crooked smile, moans as he exhales, and his entire body shaking from excitement.

He barely lets out a comprehendible sentence.

" Please master. . Forgive me. ." Despite this Zhongli is shaking with the most appreciative expression. What a pathetic god.

[venusararara]

Guys I just had the silliest thought EVER and its such a dumb porno concept so cw smut, cummies, fuckies, demon cock, floor

Here you go, Gatherine lovers, this one goes out to you HFKS

MDNI AS ALWAYS

This is properly formatted for renpy/python just ignore the tags, g = gatherine, y = you

It's a rough draft 4 the nsfw dlc

"Gatherine brushes up against you and feverishly unbuckles your restraints, noticeably flustered."

g "You have to go home, uh, you can't stay here, we have this {i}bug{i} going around right now and everyone is getting it."

y "{i}Bug?{i}"

g "Yeah, like, an illness or disease. It's highly contagious. Like, everyone is fucking everyone upstairs."

"She refuses to elaborate any further."

"Your hands are now free."

"Gatherine grabs your hand and pulls you up, leading you to the exit."

g "I'm sorry for this whole ordeal, let your neighbor know I'm looking for them, okay?"

"You're struck with a sudden feeling of fire in your gut."

"You stop following her."

"Gatherine stops and turns around to look at you."

g "Why did you stop? We have to get you home."

"She's very red in the face. The sexual frustration is practically leaking from her pores."

y "I think I caught the bug."

g "FUCK."

"She ponders."

g "Then you can't leave, you'll spread it to the outside world. Guess you're stuck here, bud."

"You can feel the blood rushing to your face and groin."

"Gatherine's eye contact doesn't falter, begging you to run."

"You don't, though. You want this."

y "... I think I'm okay with that..."

"You lean in for a kiss, where Gatherine's face connects with yours hungrily."

"She slams you against the wall and drags you down to the cold, metal floor."

"This virus must act fast, you already feel like you're going to bust."

"You plead for her to release you from the feeling."

y "Hah... I want you..."

"Gatherine flips you over and rips into the seat of your pants with a boxcutter, panting."

g "Fuck, I can barely stand you stupid mortals, you're all so tantalizing..."

"She takes a handful of your hair and shoves your face to the cold floor, pinning you to the ground and restricting your movement."

"The sound of a zipper coming undone."

"You nearly scream when she shoves it in you, unlubed. She apologizes before she begins rutting into you, stretching your hole."

"Her member moves around inside of you with a mind of it's own."

"Tears escape your eyes, though you're in ecstasy."

"Once she figures you're adequately stretched out, Gatherine thrusts into you with a roughness."

"She makes it to the base, her hips smacking against your ass with every thrust."

"You shed tears, but moan with every movement of her hip. Her smooth cock has made a home for itself in your hole, and almost feels like it belongs there."

"You cum fast, but she keeps going."

"It puddles beneath you, soaking into your bottoms."

"Gatherine continues to use you for a good, long while, her circumference stretching you to your limit."

"You get to the point where you can't cum anymore, your parts leaking, mouth drooling."

"Suddenly, Gatherine releases her seed into your ruined hole with an echoing moan."

"Pulling herself out of you, she remarks how wet your pants are and pulls them off of you."

"They smack the floor with a loud, wet plop."

"Gatherine attempts to speak calmly to you, winded."

g "You'll never guess how loose you are right now."

"She's able to easily slip her entire fist into your slutty oriface, causing you to involuntary shiver."

"You moan, and she pulls her hand out."

"She gestures to your pants."

g "You'll never be able to wear these again, I'll throw them out."

"You realize you're laying belly-first on a cold, metal floor, dripping a mixture of cum and demon eggs."

"You're wearing nothing but a shirt, which doesn't cover your genitals."

y "I'm cold."

"Gatherine takes her sweater off the floor and gives it to you."

g "Here, it'll keep you warm. Clean yourself up, too, you don't want those eggs to stay inside of you."

"She leads you to the bathroom, thoroughly satisfied."

g "... That was cool of you. I hope you're feeling better, too."

"Gatherine pats your back and leaves you at the bathroom door."

g "I'm glad you're here."

"Your body is sore and will surely bruise, but the pain you're feeling feels good right now."

y "Me too."

[stayarmytinyzenmoa-l]

Prominence [Pt. 2.4]

Social Media AU ; Idol AU ; Added Unit AU CW/TW: Language, A Bit of Toxic Stan Twitter Genre: Comedy, Romance Pairing: NCT x Idol!Reader, Seonghwa x Reader, ft. NCThree (Mark and Yangyang) Y/N Pronouns: Female (She/Her) Word Count: 2.4K

(4/80) [First] | [Previous] | [Next] [NCT Masterlist] | [Other Groups Masterlist] | [Prominence S1 Masterlist] | [Prominence S2 Masterlist]

Notes: Hiiii I FORGOT TO CHANGE THE NOTES this is what I get for copying and pasting the format jfkgdhjkg Disclaimer: Please remember that this is an AU and a work of fiction, obviously the idols mentioned/written about in this story would never partake in these actions. The idols mentioned in this work are meant to be seen more as face claims rather than the actual idols themselves.

Feedback is greatly appreciated!! Thank you for reading!

Today was January 22nd, and for some reason, as you prepared to record your comeback stage set to be aired next month, all you could think about was how much trouble you've found yourself in.

"That's a joke, right?" You leaned back on the waiting room couch while Mark and Yangyang shook their heads.

"Nah, (Y/N), it's been trending since yesterday," Mark frowned and turned his screen towards you, showing Twitter's daily trends.

#YNSHGetBackTogether

#YNSHFinallyBrokeUp

#(Y/N)LeaveANiMA

#NCTANiMADisband

#NCThreeDisband

"Boys, I'm so sorry," you took Mark's phone and tapped on the top trend, seeing all the tweets highlighting some of the revealed points of the relationship, all things you remembered, of course, and even some small things you didn't think people would catch onto. You left the tag and clicked the next one, but, right before it loaded, Mark took his phone from your hands. When you reached over to take it back, Yangyang took your own phone from your back pocket and unlocked it. "Hey! Wait, when did you put your Face ID onto my phone? Wait, that's beside the point! Give it back!" Yangyang only moved it out of your reach and deleted something from the home screen, before handing it back to you.

"We're putting you on Twitter ban, (Y/N)," Mark crosses his arms.

"What? How come? I'm fine!"

"Nope, we're doing this for you, (Y/N). Twitter's a toxic place and you don't need to see those strangers dragging you through the mud for no reason," Mark defends. "That and Suho suspended your account anyway..."

"Of course he did, I swear, he and Seojoon are out to get me sometimes," you crossed your arms and pouted, the statement being meant as a half joke. Another social media ban, it would seem. As much as you wanted to reprimand them, they had a point. Back when you first debuted, you and Yeseul used to stay up late at night translating all the tweets about your debut to Saeron and Jihyun but, the further down you went, the worst the hate got. You and Yeseul would just translate it incorrectly so that Saeron and Jihyun didn't get discouraged, but after that day Yeseul stopped reading them and you, meanwhile, kept at it. You said it was to better help with your Korean while maintaining your English but, really, you didn't know why you kept at it. Before you could continue the conversation, someone cut in.

"NCThree! Regroup," the stylist calls out with a mocking command. The three members appeared and saw the circle of stylists. You shuddered, whenever they did this it usually meant that they were going to toss you an array of outfits to try on to brainstorm future concepts. But, instead, you all saw a new face amongst the crew. "Everyone, meet our new stylist! This is Jeon Kyungjae," the main stylist gestured to the boy next to her. He was a rather plain fellow, actually, save for the bleached streaks and the obvious care put into his hairstyle. Regardless, he waved 'hello' and bowed his head.

"Thank you for this opportunity, I hope to make the most of my new job!" He announces.

"Aw, just do you're best and you'll be fine!" You reassured him. He looks to you with a wide smile on his face and you smile back, albeit awkwardly.

"Good you think so, (Y/N), he's with Jia on you today," the main stylist instructs.

"Well, best we get to know each other well then," you stepped up first. "I'm (Y/N)," you introduced yourself proper.

"I know," Kyungjae nods slowly, his eyes wide and starstruck. Yangyang whistles behind you and you glare at him.

"Ignore Yangyang, he just likes to tease new staff members," you told him. "Let's work hard together then!"

"It was nice meeting you! I'm Mark!" Mark peeks over and waves. "It's always fun to get new staff, ya know?" He says.

"Good, with introductions out of the way, we have a comeback stage to film, everyone take a seat so we can get styling done, you have to be on stage in an hour," the main stylist says. Your phone rings in your pocket and you silence it as you check the name on it.

"I'm going to take this really quick, is that alright?" You asked Jia. She nods and you walk out, answering the phone as you stepped into the empty hall. "Hey, Dan."

"(Y/N). Sorry I haven't been picking up your calls, I've been kinda busy."

"It's alright, don't worry about it," you muttered. "How's everyone else?"

"Holding up, Crystal's been bawling her eyes out though."

"Of course, she is," you sighed. "So... are they willing to meet up?"

"Yeah, just give us a time and date."

"How about you?"

"Me? I mean... I don't think it's a good idea for the two of us to be seen in public, right? I don't want to stir the pot."

"How about we meet there then? No one ever goes there."

"There? I'm surprised you still remember it."

"How could I forget it?" You chuckled quietly. "That's where we always went, no?"

"You've got a point there. We have a lot to talk about. Sure, when are you free?"

"After six today, so in like ten or so hours. How about you?"

"I'm free then too, I'll meet you there," he says.

"It's a plan then. I have to go, we're filming the comeback stage, I'll text all of you when we can meet up."

"Alright, take your time, (Y/N), we all understand."

"Thanks, and... how about Juliet?"

"Juliet? We haven't seen her since the meet up back in October."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, apparently her and Carson broke up shortly after."

"Oh, no..." your mind flashed back to the last conversation you had with Carson and suddenly the guilt came back.

"Don't worry about it, (Y/N). Everything will work out fine. You just focus on your stage, okay? Don't forget to have some fun, you deserve it."

"Thanks, I'll call you back."

"Bye." You hung up first and walked back into the stylists' room, scrolling through Twitter and looking through all the quote retweets on the breakup post. Everyone seemed to be making such a big deal out of everything, you'd never understand why strangers wanted to pry into your life so much. You hated it, actually.

“Everything alright?” Mark tugged your sleeve and you looked up from your phone.

“Oh, yeah, everything’s all good, thanks for asking,” you gave him a quick smile and before he could continue the conversation, you were both interrupted.

“I need NCThree on stage as soon as possible please!” The producer shouts over the commotion. In seconds, you were pushed into a stylist’s chair and your makeup was being touched up.

"We'll meet you out there, (Y/N)," Mark squeezed your shoulder and he and Yangyang walked off.

"Sorry for taking so long out there," you told Jia. She only shook her head.

"It's no problem, (Y/N). Luckily for you, I'm extremely good at my job," she says as she applies your eye shadow. "Everything okay with you?"

"Yeah, just fixing some things," you muttered, your eyes closing as the brush moved over them. "I'm really at a loss, right now, I don't know what to do."

"Well, to be fair, your situation is kind of unique," she says. "Kyungjae, wheel over that cart over here, yeah?"

"Got it!"

"I know, but... I guess I just miss him, is all," you mumbled. You felt her applying gloss on your lips. "I dunno, I'm going to try to set things straight with my uni friends first, I kind of blew up on them a few days ago, and they don't deserve that."

"Respectfully, they don't deserve you," Jia says. You felt the blush brush swipe up your cheek. "Okay, Kyungjae, do some final touches, yeah? I have to go check on Yangyang, I saw Mina struggling a little with his eye shadow so I'm gonna go fix it," she says before walking off.

"O-Okay," Kyungjae watched her leave and you opened your eyes.

"Hi," you waved at him.

"Hey," he answered back. Whatever starstruck nervousness now gone and replaced with relaxed charm. He moved in front of you and brought the cart closer to him. "Sorry, just let me know if I'm making you uncomfortable," he says while he picks up the mascara tube.

"Don't worry about it, you're just doing your job," you nodded. "Speaking of, tell me about it. I'm curious, why a stylist?"

"Ah, it's kind of a boring story actually," he places the tube down and instead picks up the lip tint. "When I was in school, I wasn't too confident about myself, a bit of an introverted wreck, actually. But, in college, I told myself that I wouldn't be like that anymore, so I borrowed some of my sister's makeup and watched a few makeup tutorials and here I am," he says. "I don't want anyone to feel unconfident in any way, so I figured I'd help them feel good inside and out," he says while he dabs the tint across your lips.

"That's a good sentiment," you said.

"How about you?"

"Hm?"

"Why become an idol?"

"Oh," you hummed and he picked up a highlighter palette. "That ones a bit complicated. My ex and I got scouted together way back when, and both of us were in crippling student debt, so I told him if either of us could make enough money as idols we'd be set. Well... we ended up breaking up a few months later for some reasons, and I figured that I'd put enough time into training that I'd might as well see it through, you know? Then I got put onto a debut lineup and here I am, sitting here, getting my makeup done," you explained. It wasn't the full story, but it was enough. You decided to leave out the part where you were about to quit but a certain crush-turned-best-friend got you to stay.

"Oh, that's all?" He asks. "I thought you joined because you were just a natural," he chuckles. Heat rose to your face and you cleared your throat.

"Ah, I'm nothing compared to my groupmates," you turned your head while he added light contours.

"I'm sure that's not true. You should be more confident in yourself, you're very attractive, you know," he says with a light tone. Heat rose to your cheeks and you looked elsewhere while he picks up the mascara once again. "Let's touch this up and you'll be good to go," he says. His hand held the side of your face gently while he lightly applied it.

"You're not going to ask?" You mumbled.

"About?"

"You know... Seonghwa and I?" Your eyes looked off to the side while he fixed your mascara. You'd been hearing staff members whispering about it all day, after all, you wouldn't blame him if he wasn't curious.

"Why would I?" He moved a bit closer to you, making sure it didn't clump your lashes. "That's none of my business," he says. "What matters now is that you both grow from it, right?" He switched to your other eye.

"Huh... I guess you're right about that one," you turned your head for him. "Sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable or anything about it."

"Oh, don't worry about it, I understand," he says. "But, since you asked... do you still love him? Just a curious question is all, no need to answer if you're uncomfortable."

Did you? Part of you did. Part of you missed the times you'd both finally be off and spend it doing nothing but sitting next to each other. Part of you missed the secret glances in events, the stolen moments that could've been caught on camera if you weren't careful. Part of you missed talking to him, just having that comfort that he was there and he always would be. But the other part of you was afraid of what else he was hiding from you. Did you both really go into the relationship with full trust? You told him everything. Your previous relationships, the truth behind your own rumors, hell, you even told him secrets of yours that you swore to yourself you'd take to the grave with you.

Then he didn't tell you something as simple as why he broke up with you. And you didn't even give him the chance to.

“Ow,” you winced when the stylist’s hand slipped, causing the mascara brush to hit your eye.

“Oh, god, I’m so sorry,” he gasps. He leans in closer to observe the damage and you only smiled and shook your head.

“It’s fine, nerves happen,” you told him. “Plus, you’re new, right? Jia is teaching you?”

“Ah, yeah! Yeah, first day on the job,” he nods, his eyes seemingly sparkling, almost starstruck “Do you mind if I open your eye a little to see if any mascara got into your contacts?” Kyungjae asks.

“Go ahead,” you turned your head to allow him more access and he investigates his careless mistake. “All good?”

“Looking great as always, (Y/N),” he confirms and shoots you a thumbs up. You hop off the chair and walk out onto the comeback stage. Mark and Yangyang were quick to wave hello before turning back to the producer. You jogged up to them and took your usual spot between the two.

“We’re just going to do a quick shoot, Echoes doesn’t have demanding choreo so we’ll keep it simple, just follow the stage cues and it’ll go smoothly,” she explains.

“Yes, ma'am!” The three of you answered and took your first spots. You took a deep breath. First comeback of the year, and you had to make it count. NCThree originally started as a small NCT U unit to fill in for a gap in promotions, but so many people enjoyed the first mini-album that SM decided to bring the trio back. Preparing for this second EP has been hectic, but right now, on this stage, it all felt worth it.

“And cameras are rolling in three, two, one…” the director announces and the backtrack kicked up.

It’s showtime.

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[shadowlight17]

My heart says Fives/Tup, but my brain fears the angst potential when putting them in your hands. 🤣 So ... uh ... Fives/Tup, but please don't kill them? 😂🥰 (If you want some inspiration or more specific ideas, maybe Tup needs comfort during/after Umbara, or he has a lucid moment after killing Tiplar, or he does die but is resuscitated and has to comfort Fives afterward.)

Tup needs comforting during/after Umbara. Fives is the brother who gives him that. May end up revisiting the other specific ideas!! Content Warning: Requested as Fives/Tup. I write Ace...so nothing crazy. Can be read as platonic. BUUUUT, tagged cloneshipping so as to let y’all know if it ain’t your cup of tea. AAAAALSO CW: Panic attack! WHY NOT BOTH DURING: Tup didn’t have time to sit and breathe. The umbarans were still firing further down the path, but he couldn’t breathe. He tugged his helmet off, his heart pounding against his chest and armor. He watched the lines pass as he hid in the shadow of a large tree-like plant and worked desperately to get his lungs to work with him and not against him. He was pretty well hidden, so when someone spotted him, he instinctively flinched backwards, going for a weapon he’d set on the ground. “Oh hey. Vod, are...are you okay?” The ARC trooper split away from Captain Rex and quickly moved over to him. “Oh. I see what’s going on.” He said, reaching over to set a gentle hand on Tup’s shoulder. “We’re going to breathe together, okay? My name is Fives. You can tell me your name when you’re not trying to breathe like a fish out of water, okay?” He said kindly and Tup gave him a shaky nod. He wasn’t even sure why he was panicking in the first place. Fives snapped his fingers in front of Tup’s face and Tup focused back in on the ARC. “Focus on me, kid. There you are. Breathing, right?” Fives reminded him and Tup nodded again, breathing in with Fives and breathing out. His heart stopped being quite so eager to get out of his chest and he let out a shaky sigh. “T-tup. My name. It’s Tup.” He squeaked out. Fives smiled and patted Tup’s shoulder. “Good to meet you Tup! Now stick close to me! They need help up there!” Fives said, stooping to scoop up Tup’s helmet up and pressing it into Tup’s hands. Tup slid his helmet on and nodded, grabbing his blaster and following Fives into battle.

AFTER: Tup heaved breathes in raggedly as he was pulled from the nightmare, on the edge of his bunk, most likely having thrashed around in his sleep. He worked to calm his racing heart and hoped that he hadn’t woken anyone. A creak and a shift, then silence and he relaxed a little further, but for the pounding of his heart. All was quiet until a soft “Tup?” sounded by his ear and Tup flinched, flashes of green and blue swinging towards him and- “Oh Force, I’m sorry Tup. I didn’t mean to startle you. Are you..okay?” Fives’ worried and sleep creased face hovered in Tup’s view and he belatedly realized that Fives was keeping him from falling off the other side of the bunk with a gentle grip on his forearm. Fives looked down and let go with a muttered apology. “It’s...it’s okay.”

Tup managed to breathe out, wrapping his arms around himself and drawing his knees to his chest, trying to forget how Krell’s laughter had bounced of the Umbarian plants and trees. Tried not to think about the empty bunk below his. Of all the dead brothers with scorched armor, dead by his hand. He hadn’t even realized he was hyperventilating until Fives’ hands cupped either side of his face, gently brushing the flyaway locks of his hair out of the way. “Focus on me, vod. Breathe in for four, and out for four. In, one...two, three….good...four. And now out, two, three, four.” Fives gently coached, his brow wrinkled in concern as Tup fought to follow his instructions. It took a good several minutes, but soon enough Tup was following Fives’ breathing easily and not panicking as much. Fives had scooted onto his bunk at some point and Tup found he didn’t mind as much as he once might’ve. “Care to tell me what’s bugging you, vod?” Fives asked, gripping Tup’s hands to help him stay grounded. Tup swallowed around the sudden lump in his throat and nodded slightly. It took him three tries to speak and five more to say the first words without stuttering. Even then, he still stuttered a bit when he could finally get it to come out of his throat. ‘I...I k-killed them, Fives.” He said miserably. Fives only reached forward to bring Tup’s forehead to meet him in a gentle keldabe. “You didn’t mean to.” He said steadily, gently easing a hand out of Tup’s to brush away Tup’s tears. “You didn’t mean to and they knew.” He promised and Tup could only nod shakily into the keldabe. He could only shakily breathe, following along with Fives’ breathing until Fives tucked him close to his chest and a GAR blanket was wrapped around his shoulders. “You didn’t mean to. You couldn’t help it. False information will do that. You did your best with what you had and I can assure you, not one of the vode that went down blamed you.” Fives said gently, rocking back and forth just slightly. Tup relaxed into the hold and his mind slowed, instead of the racing thoughts he’d been having. He was safe, and those vode, they weren’t gone. Merely marching far away.

[beautifulterriblequeen]

Mmmm'kay, I'm loving this arranged marriage au, the possibilities are endless. But... imagine if once they got married and they went to their shared home for the first time and they found only one bed? The tension. And then they're both like, "I don't wear a shirt to bed..." 😂

Yeah anon, it really grew on me too. It was going to be angstier as I was writing, and then I realized, wait, this has so much potential, so I softened it up a bit.

So “there was only one bed” in the “arranged marriage au”, huh, got it.

Here’s the first part

cw and tags: angst, trust issues, double entendre noises, naked cuddling, pining, sleep deprived Runaan has his own opinions, light bdsm but for angst reasons, biting, falling asleep on someone

____________________________

Runaan stalked in through the tree house door ahead of Ethari, dropping his flower crown carelessly atop a side table. Ethari slowed to catch it from sliding to the floor, hanging them both on pretty silver hooks set into the wall. The hooks were meant to hold the flower crowns as they dried and became a nostalgic reminder of Moonshadows’ vowing night, a permanent decoration to be seen by all who entered the home. Every vowed household had one.

Ethari stilled as Runaan’s footsteps retreated up the curved staircase and faded from earshot. He ran a soft fingertip along the edge of a lunabloom petal and felt a heaviness settle on his shoulders.

“My vowing night,” he murmured, so softly that only the flowers could hear him. “I imagined it very differently when I was a wee lad. With more kissing, for sure. I barely got any--”

A soft cough outside the door perked his ears with alarm. He whipped the door back open and stared out at a sheepish Lain.

“Hey, bro.” The rangy assassin straightened up from a crouch near the door’s crack and slouched easily against the tree’s thick bark. “How’s things? Need anything before you two tuck in for the night?”

Tucking in doesn’t seem to be on Runaan’s to-do list, I’m afraid. But Lain’s smirk told Ethari that he might be missing something. “Lain, what are you doing?”

“Vowing vigil, bro. Assassin thing, you wouldn’t understand.”

Ethari’s feet hurt from hours of dancing beneath the full moon’s light, and he was starving and exhausted. But for the sake of his brand new husband, he pasted on a smile and asked curiously, “Maybe you could explain it to me? ...Bro?”

Lain blinked, and then a broad grin sidled across his face and decided that it liked it there. “Sure, bro. Assassins have each others’ backs, yeah? No matter what. When one of us falters from injury or falls ill, the others gather around to keep them safe. When one of us lets his guard down, we gather, too, and hold ours high.”

Ethari squinted in puzzlement, not following Lain’s secret assassin lingo.

Lain flicked his gaze up toward the various branches overhead, belonging to half a dozen different trees. “Runaan’s our leader now. But he’s gonna let his guard down tonight, for you. And we’ll hold vigil to defend him while he does it. No matter how many times he does it,” Lain added, with a giant, cheesy wink.

Despite Lain’s suggestive joke, Ethari’s cheeks flushed hot with embarrassment and his tummy miserably curled in on itself. He recalled Runaan’s clipped words on the day they’d finalized their betrothal: “Don’t you dare kiss me again. You’re lucky I didn’t stab you.” Runaan wouldn’t be letting his guard down, in any respect, today. Or possibly ever.

“Thank you for your courtesy,” the woeful craftsman managed, before turning away and closing the door in Lain’s face.

His feet found the stairs, and he trudged upward with a heavy heart, just wanting to find a place to crash and sleep. High narrow ceilings that slotted up through organic gaps in the tree gathered darkness overhead, winking with mushroom light and the odd moonfly. Delicately carved walls and living lattice windows showed him various rooms along the side of the stairwell that wound upward around the heart of the tree itself.

This place is beautiful... I’ll have to explore later, after I catch some sleep. Where is the bedroom in here, anyway? Ah, here-

He came to an abrupt stop outside a graceful wooden arch twined with soft glowing vines and nearly bumped right into Runaan, who was swiftly exiting the bedroom with an armful of blankets--as well as cheeks the color of moonberries. Their eyes met--Ethari’s seeking, Runaan’s vulnerable, darting away. Ethari glanced over Runaan’s shoulder, seeking the source of his seeming distress, but saw only a spacious, neat, empty room behind him.

“Where are you going?” he asked Runaan.

Runaan studied the blankets he held, then raised a wry gaze to Ethari’s face. “There is only one bed here. I will sleep elsewhere.” He moved to slip past Ethari into the hallway.

Ethari’s hands clutched at Runaan’s shoulders. “No, you can’t do that.”

Runaan’s gaze was cold. “Take your hands off me.”

Ethari jerked his hands back as if they’d been burned. “Sorry. I only meant that... the assassins are watching the tree house tonight, and they’d know that you... that we didn’t... uhh...”

Runaan’s eyes widened and his gaze sliced toward the nearest outer wall, looking vulnerable, hunted even. Ethari’s heart clenched at the sight. Had the assassins’ supposed vigil slipped his mind? Was it just a prank Lain was pulling?

“That’s... really a thing, then?” he asked.

The quirked frown that snapped into place on Runaan’s face seemed to indicate that it was.

“It seems we’re trapped in here until moonrise,” Runaan grated.

Wow, that makes me feel great. Thanks for that. Ethari let his shoulders slump as Runaan spun and retreated deeper into the bedroom.

The assassin plopped his blankets on the foot of the broad bed. Ethari approached and stood beside him at a safe distance, studying it analytically. Runaan shot him a side glance and opened his mouth sharply, but Ethari spoke first. “No one needs to sleep on the floor. Look at this bed. It’s enormous. Five elves could sleep here and not even touch.”

“You exaggerate. I only see room for three.”

“Oh, should I go invite Lain to sleep between us, then?” Ethari teased, before he really grasped the words he just said.

Runaan rounded on him. “Is this funny to you? Have you no respect for--?” The assassin managed to snap his mouth shut before he said anything further, and he huffed a furious snort.

Ethari backed away, his guts swirling with guilt. He’d fooled the village council into choosing him as Runaan’s marital ally, hiding his feelings from them, and from Runaan too. And then he’d tried to steal his first kiss, blurted the truth, and confessed what felt like an innocent, wholesome, clever chain of events. Except now Runaan didn’t trust him. Their union had meant to strengthen Moonshadow relations, but Ethari had brought the seed of deceit into its very heart.

He looked down at his boots, silent, waiting. This was no time to try to earn back Runaan’s trust. That would be a long and painful process as it was. Better to start when his husband wasn’t actively yelling at him.

Maybe tomorrow, after a good night’s rest. If we can manage to figure out how and where to find it.

When he peeked up at Runaan through his lashes, the assassin was staring at him with wide intense eyes. Ethari raised his brows. Runaan kept staring. Not fondly, either. Ethari’s shoulders slumped, and his gaze found the smooth wooden floor. The grain was beautiful, he noted, full of deep blue-silver swirls.

Runaan tucked his hands behind his back, cleared his throat, and took a deep breath. “I apologize. This is no way to begin our... arrangement. If we must share a bed, then I suggest we get to it. We’ve had a long day of... of getting married. You must be as tired as I am.”

Ethari offered him a tired half-smile. “Do your feet hurt too?” he asked softly.

Runaan’s brows evened out. “I’m on my feet all day. Hours of dancing are no hardship.”

Ethari let his eyes slide toward the outer wall of the tree house, beyond which he knew several assassins were pretending not to eavesdrop. “That’s a real shame, Runaan.”

Runaan’s eyes zeroed in on him with intense focus. “Explain.”

-*-*-

“Ah, right there, push harder,” Runaan moaned, writhing lightly on his stomach atop the soft bed. His long hair sprawled, tousled and tangled, across his bare back.

“You sure you can take it?” Ethari’s question breathed through closed teeth as he bent to his task, hands working over the assassin beneath him, lending his body weight to the sweet, insistent pressure he offered.

“I’m going to be sore when I wake, no matter what,” Runaan said breathlessly against the pillow he clutched. “Your hands are v-very skilled--aah-- Please, please, continue... hnngh... aahhh...”

Ethari chuckled softly at the sweet, desperate noises Runaan was making. The lanky assassin looked delicious all stretched out before him, all long legs and tousled hair and breathy gasps. He dared to hope that, one day, Runaan might make them for another reason besides getting an intense calf massage to work out the knots from too much dancing.

Runaan’s other foot kicked helplessly atop the blanket as Ethari pressed a knuckle into a new knot high on Runaan’s calf. “Hhhgh, moon and shadow,” he cursed.

Ethari’s hands paused, holding Runaan’s muscled calf protectively. “Too hard?”

“Mm’mm. Keep going. It’s good for me.”

“I’ll slow down,” Ethari offered. “I don’t want to break you on our first night.” He couldn’t help but say that last line with a sassy grin.

Runaan’s head popped up from his pillow, and he shot Ethari a hot glare over his shoulder. “You couldn’t possibly--”

Ethari drove his knuckle deep into the knotted muscle.

“AAH-ha-haagh, moondimmit, fuck!” Runaan swore. “Light and shade of the sacred cycle, have mercy on my s-soul...” he squeaked.

“Ooh,” Ethari cooed, “I like it when you plead.”

Runaan’s gaze could’ve stripped the bark off the entire house in a single slice.

A sudden sliding scuff on the branch outside the shuttered window drew their attention. It was swiftly followed by a quiet yelp as someone outside lost their footing.

Ethari paused his hard kneading and flicked his eyebrows with another sassy smirk. “Well, that’s three assassins we’ve overwhelmed so far. How many more do you think will want to listen in?”

Runaan let his forehead plop into the pillow as he caught his breath. “It’s been an hour. We’ve made our point. And I’m not sure I can walk at the moment.”

“You want me to carry you somewhere?” Ethari offered softly. He rested a light hand against the back of Runaan’s knee.

“No, I just want to sleep with you now.”

Ethari blinked, unsure he’d heard right. “S-Sorry?”

“We’ve established that I can’t sleep anywhere else, Ethari. So I have to sleep with you. All I meant.” Runaan groaned and rolled into a sitting position at the edge of the bed. One hand reached for Ethari’s scarf. “You don’t plan to sleep in that, do you?”

“Uhh. Nope.” Ethari tugged his scarf free. “I don’t sleep in much, actually... I get hot... uh...” Like right now. It’s really hot in here all of a sudden!

“Hm. That’s fine. I don’t sleep in anything at all.” Runaan stood up and shucked off his trousers with zero ado whatsoever.

“Hrkk!” Ethari choked against a fist. “Are-Are you s-sure you...” Moon help me, I’m just infinitely gay, infinitely, did he just, did he-- Help....

Runaan turned around and looked down at him, hands on his narrow hips. Ethari desperately locked his eyes onto his new husband’s turquoise ones, feeling his cheeks burn.

“I’ve got about five minutes of consciousness left before I crash,” Runaan said in a cool tone. “And I’m not falling asleep around someone I don’t trust, unless I can control the risks he poses.”

Ethari gulped. “Wh-What does that mean? Are you going to tie me up or something?”

Runaan raised a speculative eyebrow.

-*-*-

“Not too tight?” Runaan murmured, kneeling at Ethari’s side as the craftsman lay on his back, wearing nothing more than a soft pair of sleep shorts--which was more than Runaan was wearing. His fingers lightly adjusted the soft bindings around Ethari’s wrists.

“This really isn’t necessary, I promise,” Ethari began. “I’ve already agreed to--”

“I know what you’ve said. I also know the depth of your capability for deceitfulness. If you’d been truthful, we wouldn’t need restraints.”

We. How “we” does he mean that? Ethari wondered.

“Now roll onto your side,” Runaan ordered. “I’m not turning my back on you again, and I’m keeping you right where I can find you.”

With his eyes wide and dark, Ethari rolled over and felt Runaan tuck his bare body behind him, nestling close. Ethari’s breathing stuttered as Runaan hooked one leg atop the craftsman’s hip, pinning him in place. He clutched his softly tied hands to his chest to reassure himself that he was still breathing. This was torture of the worst kind! To be in love with such a beautiful elf, to be allowed to marry him, to share a bed, to watch him strip down and snuggle tightly--and to have it all mean something entirely different than what Ethari had begged the universe for--it was the sweetest dagger in his heart. He knew he’d never recover from its wound, and he wasn’t sure he even wanted to.

Runaan’s hand snaked between Ethari’s arm and his ribs and clasped his wrists lightly, tucking one seeking finger under the bindings. The touch was so intimate and gentle, as if Runaan were admitting that he too were bound the same way as Ethari was, that it brought a shaky tear to the corner of Ethari’s eye.

His struggles to smooth out his breathing did not go unnoticed, however, since the assassin was pressed skin to skin against his back. Runaan’s fingers gently rubbed along Ethari’s wrists, soothing the cord’s rub.

“Sometimes I don’t trust myself, either.” Runaan’s voice was slurred with sleep. His five minutes had come and gone, perhaps a couple of minutes ago.

“I swear to you, Runaan,” Ethari said, breathing his words like a prayer, “I never meant to hurt you. I never wanted this.” He wriggled his bound wrists against Runaan’s grip.

Runaan squeezed the bindings possessively. “Maybe I did.”

Ethari gasped slowly at Runaan’s sleepy confession. Then he gasped harder as Runaan’s mouth closed over the skin at the base of his neck. Runaan instinctively clasped him still with all his limbs, holding Ethari in his control with a soft hum that grew gentle teeth against his skin. Ethari froze, entirely breathless, trembling with a heady concoction of delight, fear, and arousal. “R-Runaan?”

Runaan’s mouth nibbled gently, sleepily. “Mmmm.”

“Runaan, are you... awake?”

The assassin’s teeth grazed his skin and claimed his ear, biting gently, sucking on its tip. “No. And don’t you dare tell me about this in the morning.”

A waterfall of helpless, confused, ecstatic noises tumbled from Ethari’s mouth. Runaan’s hands began roaming him, and his teeth dragged and nipped in their wake, drawing gasps and curses from Ethari’s lips, making him writhe against his husband. Runaan’s nibbling became insistent, and he crawled across Ethari, pushing him onto his back, pinning his bound hands over his head even as his mouth worked along the lower curve of Ethari’s left pec.

Ethari bucked helplessly and groaned until his voice shredded into a needy whine. “Runaan, please... aah...”

Runaan nipped his way across Ethari’s heart and along the side of his neck, drawing ever louder sounds of pleasure from Ethari’s lips. He eased down flush atop him, tucking his long slender legs outside Ethari’s sturdy ones. Rampant heat flared between them. But while Ethari was getting worked up, Runaan was relaxing bonelessly, his breathing slowing.

He pressed his mouth to Ethari’s ear, nipping gently at its lower edge. “Hold me, Ethari. I want to trust you so much.” And he let go of Ethari’s bound wrists and nestled his head against his husband’s muscled shoulder.

Ethari tensed, as desperately confused as he was aroused, but he lowered his arms to hold Runaan close, craving the smell of his hair, the weight of his body, the warmth of his breath. “I... I have you, Runaan...”

“Mmmm.” The assassin’s breathing slowed and evened out as he passed fully into slumber, sprawled without a stitch atop the elf he claimed not to trust.

Ethari felt his body throb hot against Runaan’s lax weight. With a tiny whimper, he let his head fall back against the pillow. No...This really is torture of the worst kind! He flexed his wrists against Runaan’s bindings as they rested against the small of the assassin’s back. How am I supposed to survive this kind of cruelty?

He bemoaned his indecently unfair fate for several minutes before exhaustion claimed him, too. His last waking act was to kiss Runaan’s temple and murmur, “Sleep well... husband.”

At Ethari’s soft words, Runaan let out a deeply contented sigh and snuggled closer.

Alone in the dark, and yet not quite as alone as he had been, Ethari thought he might cry, for every single reason at once.

[tears-and-lilies]

Chapter 37 - Care

I’m not too happy with this one, but I’m proud I finally wrote it

Tag: @whumpfigure @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @green-eyed-whumpster @liliability @sideblogformindtrash @starnight-whump @milk-carton-whump @abitefullofwhump @unicornscotty

CW: feet whump (aftermath), death mention, attempted murder mention

Glorien couldn’t help it. The gross sobs coming from his mouth, the tears running down his face, they annoyed him. It annoyed him Feyros had brought him to this bedroom once again, laying him down onto the bed. Glorien pulled his feet away when he tried to look at them.

‘I don’t have much time. I’m supposed to go, but I fear that they won’t get you any help if I don’t treat your wounds.’

‘Why. Do you. Care?’, he gasped between sobs. He blinked so he could see Feyros’s face. Somehow he feared the answer.

The man sat down on the side of the bed. ‘Of course I care. You’re a citizen of Koia, and it is my job to make sure every citizen is safe.’

‘No. No, you’re lying. I’m not. A citizen. I’m a prisoner.’

‘You were born in Koia.’

He tried to sit up. ‘You must feel so proud of yourself. Trying to help someone who is so defenseless, it’s so fucking easy to pamper a pitiful piece of crap. You can show everyone how much of a kind and caring person you are! How I wait for the day you’re going to kick me or whip me just like all the rest of you! Be honest: I’m nothing more than dirt to you.’

He wanted to go on, but his throat was screwed shut and he struggled to breathe. He curled up, trying to stop this miserable display. He was only embarrassing himself more. Not that he had much pride left anyway.

Feyros sat there, his mouth opening and closing. Eventually, he placed a hand on Glorien’s arm.

‘None of that is true. Not at all. Vasri, as my friend, let me help you even if he hates it. But as the Emperor to the Keeper of the City, he can’t always allow me to do this. I risk a lot in helping you, when it shouldn’t be like that.’

Feyros sighed, but Glorien didn’t care. Excuses.

The man continued: ‘But I… I can't. I can’t treat you like a prisoner. You are so much more, you went through so much. I don't… It hurts to hear you talk about yourself this way. They made you believe this, and I'm so sorry they did…’

It wasn’t fluent, a mess of words glued together to sound inspirational. Glorien wasn’t stupid. He didn’t need half-hearted apologies. He needed… he didn’t know what he needed, or what he should have expected, really.

‘Okay’, he said, his voice flat. He tried to smile, knowing he would fail. ‘Then why do you care about me?’

Because you are pathetic. That’s all he needed to hear. Just admit and give me that small victory.

He didn’t get it. Feyros shifted, leaning further away from him.

‘I was there, at your execution. And I can’t forget what I saw. It was unfair, you were so young when they caused you so much pain. I still remember your screaming. How can I ever forget? As I see it, the civil war only resulted in terror and chaos, and it hurts me that you were a victim of that as well. And now still, 6 years later, everyone is supposed to hate you. All those years you went through on your own. I can’t even begin to imagine how lonely you feel, how desperately you want someone to care.’

‘Stop.’

He didn’t know how to process this. He should be mad, that this man was taking his most horrifying memory as the big reason to pity him. But it was weird. He couldn’t tell most of the details of that day, but the emotionless way the crowd was looking on never left him. He couldn’t put Feyros’s memory in his own. This gave him an empty feeling in his stomach, he couldn’t quite place. It was unsettling.

But more than that, he couldn’t hate Feyros’s words. He… liked them.

It took a lot of effort to move his trembling form, but he managed to sit closer. He noticed Feyros’s confused look before he gently took the man’s sleeve, and next leaned his head on his shoulder.

‘Thank you', he whispered hoarsely.

***

He had calmed down quite a bit, and tried not to think too much about the wounds on his feet while Feyros bandaged them.

‘What happened to sir Elvar?’, he asked, just to distract himself.

‘He’s banished. He has to leave the city in maximum three days and the mainland in fifteen.’

‘Where will he go?’

‘To one of the smaller islands in the eastern part of the Empire’, Feyros responded. He kept his eyes on his task as he talked.

Glorien thought for a moment. ‘Why is he banished? What did he do?’

‘Did you hear about the princess yesterday?’

‘No?’

Feyros checked the bandage, before moving on to the other foot. ‘An assassin tried to kill her in the gardens. Luckily her uncle saved her, but no one was supposed to know they were there. The princess admitted later she had informed lady Lilian about it, and thus Elvar was suspected to have hired the assassin.’

He could be trying to cover up for his daughter. But Loryan wouldn’t try to kill the princess, would she?

‘Why does everyone call Loryan “Lilian”?’, he asked.

‘Right, you must have known her.’ Feyros looked up shortly. ‘After the civil war her family lost their influence. Nevertheless, she married, but lost her husband not long after. I think she wants to remover herself from her past, and therefore changed her name.’

So his childhood friend was dead. Such a nice way to find that out.

‘Lilian only got a warning from the Emperor, but she is still allowed to be in Koia. She’s a close friend to the princess, so Vasri might even let her enter the palace every now and then.’

‘She’s a friend of the princess?’ Despite her connection to me?

‘I don’t know how they got to know each other. I’m not aware of the personal life of the princess.’

‘Of course’, Glorien said absent-mindedly. He wondered what Loryan had been up to in the last six years.

‘I’m done with the bandaging.’ Feyros stood up. ‘I must go. I don’t think they’ll allow you to stay here, so be careful when you go, okay?’

Glorien pushed himself off the bed. Reluctantly, he must admit.

‘Sir Feyros?’

‘Yes?’

He stood up, cringing at the sting in his feet. He quickly regained himself as he said: ‘Will I see you again?’

Feyros smiled softly and looked at the ground. ‘Maybe. I’ll try to find a way, if you want.’

He would like that.

[spookyboywhump]

Play Button (though I know he won't need it): Cain, I want you to put the dogs - both into a stress position. It can be the same position for both, or a different one for each. I don't care. I want you to gag them - but make sure they can see each other - and then leave them for a few hours.

Pepperony I’m so sorry this has just been sitting in my inbox but I swear I didn’t forget, it’s just. A funky command ask turned into a drabble I have nothing to say for myself, there’s words and suffering.

Tag list: @ihaventwritteninsolong , @legallylibra , @to-whump-or-not-to-whump  , @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi , @ohmywhump , @grovegrocer , @renkocchi , @whumpasaurus101

(lemme know if I missed ya or if you’d like to be added!)

CW: Stress positions, muzzles, shoulder whump, brief mention of asphyxiation, Zander’s constant swearing, probably medical inaccuracies on how this works but yeah, no comf just whump

***

  Wren’s eyes burned as they filled with tears, blurring the unfortunate sight in front of him. He gritted his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut, he tried to think of anything except for the pain he was in.

 His wrists had been cuffed behind him, which was bearable, but of course it couldn’t end there. Cain had pulled his arms back, further and further until he was whimpering in pain, and that’s when they were chained to the wall. The chain was short, he couldn’t lean forward very much, but that wouldn’t have helped much anyway. The strain on his shoulders was nearly unbearable, he would’ve given anything to be relieved of that pain.

 What was worse though was Zander, directly across the room from him, bound in an identical position. Cain had been particularly rough with him, yanking his arms back harshly, slapping him when he complained about the position- before they’d both been muzzled that is. He hated that, hated that they couldn’t even verbally comfort one another, forced to endure this agony in a silence only interrupted by muffled swearing and pathetic whimpers. 

 He didn’t think it was a punishment- normally Cain made it clear when it was, and because he left once they were in position Wren didn’t think it was done out of boredom either. It made him all the more frustrated that he didn’t know why this was happening, couldn’t even ask Zander what he thought about it. He wasn’t sure Zander would’ve been able to answer anyways, he seemed to be handling the strain worse than Wren was, which was… unnerving, to say the least. Wren was used to Zander being so stoic all the time, holding out even through pain until he just couldn’t anymore, but it seemed like he couldn’t handle this from the start. He kept his eyes screwed shut, and even though anything he said was muffled by the muzzle, Wren just knew he was swearing and yelling nonstop. 

 He shifted uncomfortably in his own restraints, trying to find a position that would lessen the pain even a little bit. It was more or less impossible though, and the frustration was only serving to make him more uncomfortable. Tears streamed down his face, catching along the edge of the muzzle, the feeling just noticeable enough to be irritating. 

 He wanted to get move, to stretch his arms out right and relieve the tension in them, to scream or swear or do something but he was trapped. He had no choice but to endure this agony until Cain came back for them, and he didn’t even know when that could possibly be, it could take hours and he wouldn’t know until his owner walked through that door again.

 Honestly, he really wasn’t sure he’d even last that long.

 ***

 Zander knew he wouldn’t be able to last until Cain got back. He wasn’t sure what he was thinking doing this, he wasn’t sure why he thought this would be a good idea, and he wanted to yell and scream and swear at him for it but he couldn’t, forcibly silenced when he even complained of the pain. 

 The strain on his shoulders was agonizing, a burning ache that just got worse and worse. It was particularly bad on his left shoulder, and he knew that if Cain didn’t come back soon this would end very, very poorly for him. He tried to stay as still as he possibly could but it was difficult when all he wanted to do was find a position that didn’t feel like he was being tortured. 

 He almost felt guilty for focusing on his own pain, when Wren was across the room and not doing any better than he was. He was crying behind that muzzle, forced to take deep breaths through his nose so he wouldn’t suffocate choking on sobs. He hated the muzzles more than anything, he couldn’t even try to calm him down, at least it would’ve been a brief distraction from his own pain. He wanted to stay quiet, stay strong so that Wren wouldn’t have to watch him break down, but it didn’t take long for the pain to get to him, the panic of a worse case scenario making him shout and swear even if the words would be stopped by the leather muzzle. 

 The strain on his shoulders continued to get more and more unbearable, and though he tried to prepare himself for it to get worse it still caught him off guard, the agonizing pain shot through his shoulder and he screamed when he involuntarily leaned forward, putting even more strain on his right shoulder. His breathing was nearly erratic, he was vaguely aware of Wren’s panicked shouting but he could hardly hear him over his heart pounding in his ears. 

He’d suffered from dislocated shoulders so many times before but he’d never had so much pressure put on the joint, he’d never been forced to hold a position while dealing with that injury, and even though he was sure this was some kind of emergency, he knew it would be hours before he got any help. 

***  

 Wren was worried sick by the time Cain finally returned. Hours had passed, hours holding this uncomfortable position, hours of Zander’s uncontrollable sobbing tearing at his heart. He couldn’t stand to see him in so much pain, to see the unnatural way his arm was hanging. He couldn’t imagine how much that had to hurt and it killed him that he couldn’t do anything to help. 

 Cain seemed to realize what had happened almost immediately, the smug look on his face disappeared as he rushed over to Zander. He swore under his breath as he freed him, but the disturbance of his arm only made Zander whine more, his arms falling limp at his sides. Cain hesitated before deciding to remove the muzzle, though he seemed to regret it as soon as Zander opened his mouth.

 “Fuck you!” He shouted, eyes screwed shut as he brought his hand to his injured shoulder. “You stupid fucking- god you fucking idiot!” He only opened his eyes to glare at Cain, even as tears streamed down his face. 

 “Would you calm down!?” Cain snapped at him, helping him to his feet.

 “Yeah sure fucker let me just ignore the dislocated fucking shoulder-!” His voice pitched into a cry as the movement just made things worse. He was unsteady on his feet, Cain tried to help him out of the room only for Zander to snap at him again. “Don’t just fucking leave Wren! He can’t take this much longer either!” 

 Wren was surprised that Cain actually listened to him, he was quick to uncuff his wrists, and though Wren could hardly feel his arms at this point he tried not to whine too much. He was grateful that the muzzle was removed, taking a shuddering breath as he struggled to his feet. 

 “Wren, to your room, now.” Cain ordered him, and he didn’t need to be told twice. He spared a quick glance at Zander, he wanted to say something to him but he knew it was a bad idea, keeping his mouth shut as he struggled to make it there on his own. Keeping one position had been exhausting, his legs felt weak and numb from kneeling for so long, he was lucky it was only a short distance because he collapsed as soon as he was in the room. He hoped that Cain intended to get Zander some kind of help, but he figured he wouldn’t know until they came back, Cain locking him in the room as they walked past. 

 He was glad he hadn’t been left to wait in that uncomfortable position, but he wished that Cain had brought him along, only so he could stay with Zander, try to comfort him however he could. He knew he’d complained of pain in his shoulders before, he was always in so much pain and he hated to know that he’d have to endure even more because of some careless game Cain wanted to play. 

 He couldn’t help but scowl, tiredly rubbing at his aching arms. Even now, left by himself, he didn’t want to think about how much it hurt, he knew Zander was hurting way worse right now. He was glad that Cain seemed to tolerate being yelled at that way, or at least, that he didn’t plan to punish him for it immediately, only adding to his suffering. He hoped he’d let it slide, hoped that Zander could finally get a fucking break, but he knew it wasn’t likely. 

 He’d spent hours waiting for Cain to return, hours in excruciating pain, and now he had no choice but to do it again, sit down and wait just to find out if Zander was okay.

 He was so tired of waiting.