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calliedion-dungeon · 1 year ago

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𖤓Sore Kisses

Chapter 11. Steamed Skin

Read on ao3 here <<<

//People, I have something to say, from this chapter onwards the story begins with its +18 section, and since here I have found more than five underage people who tried to follow me despite the fact that this blog I clearly express that I do not want minors to follow me, they have, I personally feel very uncomfortable posting smut here for that reason. So I will be uploading the rest of the chapters exclusively in AO3, where it will be protected to a certain extent, only people with an account will be able to see it. Thanks for reading from the hollow of my heart, I hope I'll see you soon with better news.

Warnings: MDNI +18, Smoking, Heavy Drinking, Fluff and Angst Swearing, Crossdressing, Adult Content, Eventual Smut, Blonde Mary Goore!! Everyone is a Little Shit in here, later it gets all Soft and Smutty, Enemies to Friends to Lovers Trope, Slow Burn Romance, Nipple Worship.

The noise that the three make when entering is unmistakable the three happy and lively young people, one of them storms the cupboard to eat something immediately, Mary approaches to give you an eager kiss in front of everyone, something that leaves you blushing, you thought peculiar that Cami did not come with them, you always remember their support in your first move.

You were so ready to tell them the news immediately and without wasting a single second you decided to tell them everything you had talked about with Jenn that day and how you already started with the preparations using your best effort to sound as calm as possible, waiting for what they could tell you, but no one said a word, not even Nick, who you considered more detached from you, Frank had a resigned face, his sigh is the only thing that breaks the silence, but Mary has a very different reaction to what you had in mind, you knew it would be more harder for you than for him, or so you supposed, it baffles you that he doesn't say anything, he just purses his lips and storms out and locks himself in his room.

Knowing that no one will stop you, you go to Mary's room to see how he is, when you enter, you see how quickly he hides the bra that had disappeared from your bed, you both sit on the bed and you place a hand on his thigh, you’re sure he’s the one with more thoughts about it, so you wait for him to talk first, his breathing is very deep and fast, it could be anger, or so you suppose, you feel his muscles tense under your hand, he is slightly leaning back on his arms.

“You’re leaving me?” he begins to say in a hoarse voice, you turn your head to see him, his hair covers, as almost always, a large part of his face.

“No, I’m not leaving you, I’m just considering moving back with Jenn, this was supposed to be temporary remember? I have to be closer to my school…” your words come out of your mouth quickly, you hope he understands your point of view, but his face is still too serious.

“But I won’t be seeing you often, right? And we won’t have a space” he makes an attempt to place his hand on top of yours and starts stroking circles on the back of it with his fingertip, you rest your cheek on his shoulder, occasionally you turn your head to kiss him on the shoulder bone.

“This space isn’t ours; we don’t have that much privacy here either. We may even have more privacy in the other place.” your voice is low and melancholic, you squeeze your hand on his forearm, while you stare at his hand over yours.

“True, maybe, but how would it be?” his voice denotes a contained despair, his words could be taken as a request that you give him solutions that he cannot see, but they were more of a complaint.

“Well, I could change my days off to when you're free, that's not a problem and the days we leave early... maybe, if you’re not busy” you give him your ideas about it.

“It doesn’t sound feasible” you peer up to look at his expression, which it’s still grave and determined.

“If I stay, it would be so much worse to have to leave for school two hours early, I wouldn't have time for anything before work” you explain patiently, you keep your hands in his even though he hardly looks at you, you think you even notice through his hair that he has teary eyes without letting go of your hands.

“So, it is like that?” his deep voice snaps you out, making you lift your head in alarm.

“Like what?” he bites his lips hard, you see how he swallows saliva.

“You’re only with me because I’m available and at reach.” You do not have time to be unsettled by what he said because it is something that you yourself had thought of him.

“I told you I’m not leaving you; we just have to look for a way to make it work”

“But if it doesn’t?” He slowly stands out from the bed, runs his hand over his face as a sign of frustration, or maybe to hide something else, his movements were not abrupt but his words were to a small extent.

“Please. For the first time I’m trying not to waste my time being negative”

“So, I’m wasting your time then?” he spats out, regretting his words the second he said it, either way he sighs and looks upset.

“I didn’t say that…” you lower your brows as you speak, your lips tensed, you feel the mood in the room change.

“I’m sorry… I gotta… sorry. “he mutters, his words come out roughly breathing.

Discouraged, you look at how he takes his jacket and leaves his room and the apartment, you don't call him to come back, he must need time to process, although you didn't expect him to take it so badly, and right now no one needs more pressure, could you say that you are a little upset despite empathizing with their feelings. Even though neither of you raised your voice, you're completely sure that the others could hear what both of you spoke. Once you got out of Mary’s room, you see Frank and Nick, one sitting on the sofa near the balcony and the other in the step of balcony, they can tell from your face that you're uneasy, Nick offers you a consoling smile, and Frank is internally torn between staying with you or going after Mary to pull his ears for being so headstrong.

They make space for you to sit with them on the balcony, you let yourself fall on the step rubbing your forehead, you sigh letting your head fall back and with distress you ask them.

“Why is he being such an asshole again?” Without the energy to go get your cigarettes, you nibble your fingers.

“Well… uh…?” Frank hesitates.

“You know, when frank told us that you were coming here I though “Oh no, Mary is gonna be pissed” but then I knew that you and him are like together… you know, and then I thought “Cool, someone finally could tame him” and bonus was just that rent got lower” Nick laugh at his own words “What I mean is, you’re cool and he’s way over heels for you, so, whatever you decide, he’ll love you like crazy anyways, and of course we will miss you too, but in the end, you gotta do your thing” for a few seconds you remain stupefy, looking surprised and processing what Nick said, at the end of his speech you smile at him for his support.

“I thought you were going to be the one that was going to push him away, you know, now that there’s someone dying to get close to you, however, the news caught him off guard, Nick’s right, he doesn’t just like you, he’s very much attached to you, and we can all see it. The important thing is to make it work, not give up when the road gets bumpy, which you didn’t do, so try to not feel bad just because this idiot can’t handle sadness because you’re going away.” Frank lightly pushes your shoulder with his fist, you look at him.

“Is that what that was?” That is why he did not look angry as is, his reactions were unknown to you, you have seen him get upset, you have seen him angry, but sad, that was a first.

“Although we don’t agree on his behavior, we understand what it means” Frank adds to finish, it's not to underestimate them, but their words really calmed you down a lot.

Sitting for a moment pondering, knowing that you did nothing wrong, what to do now. To help yourself, you think out loud without expecting your mates to help you unless you ask them, you can wait a little longer for you and Jenn to close the deal on that place where you're going and just have everything ready for when it happens, other than that, you know what you want and the rest can be achieved.

Although you need to do your thing, you also have to trust that Mary will be fine, Nick cooks something in the kitchen, you go back to your room to put some order, you manage to see Frank through the door very focused on his phone, typing furiously, his expression doesn't tell you what it could be about, you just capture his flying thumbs dancing on the screen.

You start to get nervous as the minutes go by, your confidence wavers when you realize that the boys are going to sleep, hour and a half has passed, you no longer know how to spend your time, the lack of notifications on your phone only fans to the fire of your anxiety, half an hour ago you had decided that you should trust, you know what you want and he is one of those things. Being in your room is annoying, with everyone else asleep, you sit quietly in the living room to watch television for a moment, lying along the big sofa trying to distract yourself from the fact that Mary hasn't arrived yet, you start to doze off, all the emotions of the day made you tired now that you’re alone and without that much stimuli, it's one of those times when you hardly can keep yourself awake, but your eyelids are so heavy that your eyes go cross-eyed from the effort to keep them open.

Your sleep was so delicious, but something woke you gradually, a hand on your head fondles your hair so delicately that it tickles you, at first you think it's a bug and slap in the air to scare it away, but you hit something hard that hurt you hear a voice say "sshhh" to you softly, you crane your neck to see that next to your head someone sits next to you.

Mary had a shy expression, as if he expected you to be upset with him, his eyes were looking down at you as you got up to sit next to him, both unsure what to do or say, waiting for the other to start talking, both expectant and equally fearful, when you realize that, you both give each other a shy smile at the same time, you look down at a plastic bag in their hands, the logo of the bag is from an office supply store, he notices where your eyes went, he raises his arm to give you the bag and you look inside, without saying a word you see that the bag has at least three giant rolls of masking tape in it, it's too much and it's confusing.

“I know this isn’t enough, but at least I can help you packing, if you let me. Sorry for not being helpful when you needed it, it was selfish of me” he speaks to you with a shaky voice and palpable nerves.

“Who told you to say that?” leaving the bag on your side, you take his hand grinning timidly.

“I did… maybe somebody talked to me a little, but wasn’t needed” he says in a proud and kind tone, he turns to face you “One thing that I’m damn sure is that I wanna be with you”

This time you start the kiss pulling him by the collar of the shirt to collide your face with his in a deep kiss, it didn’t hurt much when you hit your teeth with his and it’s fast forgotten when he moans against your lips in surprise, your kisses make a smacking sound from the suction that echoes around the room, he hugs you tightly wrapping his arms around your waist, you take him by the face almost digging your thumbs on his cheeks, you feel how gently you both lean back along the sofa without detaching from you kissing you with voracious hunger as he bites your lips aggressively and you feel his stubble rubbing your upper lip, but the burning sensation it's not annoying, you just have the unbearable need of him to squeeze you closer to him, you feel how the heat grows in the center of the two of you making you sweat a little already.

After a few minutes you feel very self-conscious that you’re in the living room, you suggest that if you can go somewhere else, Mary does not doubt it for a second, the next thing you know is that he has you against the wall of his room attacking you by nibbling at the base of your neck while you try to cover your mouth with one hand to muffle all the sounds he makes you do, you can't help but close your eyes when you feel his tongue run through the vein between your breasts, which thanks to the strappy blouse you are wearing makes that area accessible.

You feel agitated with his big hands sliding gently down the small of your back to your buttocks where he massages energetically running his fingers under the hem of your booty shorts pinching your underbutt area, he lowers the strap of your blouse with his teeth, still so, he licks through the blouse wetting with his lips the fabric that covers the softest and spongiest part of your chest, although it stops being soft after feeling its humid heat lapping on you; his lips press like pricking your now hardened nipples nuzzling into your perky flesh as your chest moves from your heaving, your hands held him firmly by the nape of the neck, he shushes when a whimper gets away from you, and although that doesn't make you want to stop, you gently remove him from you, and between sloppy kisses you whisper to him that maybe you should wait until no one is home because you can't help to make noise, although he agreed on his side, you both regretted it in the same way since you’re both too worked up, sleeping was certainly going to be difficult tonight then.

You both considered whether or not to keep at least groping each other until you eventually fall asleep in his bed cuddling together, but with the promise that at the first opportunity you would try something else, it would only make the interlude much better.

#Sore Kisses #mary goore #mary goore fanfic #mary goore x reader #mary goore repugnant #repugnant fanfiction #repugnant band

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more-than-a-princess · 1 year ago

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@scarlxtleaves asked: (this is just a quick little reply to the last reply you've sent me where Sonia mentioned that being married to her would interfere with his life as a gentleman thief. AHEM here goes.) "I shed the mask of a thief to wear my true face as 'husband'. As long as I'm yours, I know it would suffice. It would leave me overjoyed."

Unprompted IC asks - Accepting from mutuals!

For the first time since he'd found her there in the sitting room, curled up with Sisi and a book, silence fell. Sisi, who had taken to sniffing around a shelf, peered at the two humans and the mood that had settled upon Lupin's declaration of marriage. To her. That being wedded to her was worth giving up his entire life's work.

It was then that the dog, mechanical leg clanking in tow, padded over to both thief and princess and plopped himself down in-between two sets of feet, as if he didn't know which human to provide moral support for at the moment: Lupin, with his earnest words and equally earnest gaze, or Sonia, whose mouth hung open in shock as she stared, dumbfounded, at a man professing his preferred intentions with her.

Generally, princesses were supposed to smile, or weep, or fall into a man's arms in relief as he confessed a vision of a future with her. That was what the movies had always instructed. Unfortunately, Sonia had been dashing the dream of fairytales since she was a child, it all coming to a head in high school when the boy who had stalked her, loved her for all the wrong reasons, finally had to be made to understand that she was not something out of a book or a film. Sonia Nevermind was human: imperfect and flawed and part of a system that spanned centuries and, God and the efforts of the Royal Family willing, would continue to flourish long after the eventual Queen Sonia of Novoselic was no more.

But Lupin looked at her, eyes full of warmth, optimism, some sort of hope for the future, or so it appeared to her. And Sonia swallowed, looking back at him: half a world away and tucked into the safety of a large mansion full of new friends who, while paid to do so, wouldn't hesitate to protect her, everything she was to so many people seemed so insignificant. But she couldn't remain locked up forever, like one of those aforementioned princesses in fairytales. The part deep down within her, the one that bent rules and ran wild and gave everyone's blood pressure a proper spike, wanted to say she could make it happen if he sincerely cared for both princess and country alike. But the more rational part stopped her: she wasn't sixteen anymore, easily throwing caution to the wind. She sighed deeply, shifting on the sofa to properly face him, without a book or plans for a heist to distract her.

"Forgive me, monsieur," She began gently, blue eyes pleading for him to listen and understand. "But I am not sure you fully understand what you are suggesting. This life here at the mansion, and the person I am able to be here...well, the terrorists who threaten my life will be caught and tried eventually, and I shall be extradited home where I will return to my life. A working royal life, with duties and responsibilities and schedules where I must have nearly every hour of every day accounted for, for something or other. That is, the woman I am here," She paused, gesturing down to her loose ponytail, her pullover sweater, her jeans and fuzzy socks, not a trace of finery on her besides the pearl and diamond stud earrings in her ears. With a book and a dog and several pots of tea on a lazy afternoon. "I cannot be this...this free at home. And neither is anyone else in my family: we are royals first and people second, and we put the needs of the country before our own. That includes royal marriages. There is no divorce for people like me: it is forever, for the sake of a country that believes in true love and happily ever afters, even if the reality is much different. But it is a job, and not one taken lightly."

He'd never known her outside of his care, their care, since the day he and the others had come to rescue her. And that was why Sonia worried that the woman he was now propositioning...she didn't exist. Not really, or at least not forever. Whether he was certain he could be happy giving up his life as a thief, that didn't change the fact that he hardly knew her. Or at least, knew the person whose shoes she'd have to step back into one day. And of course, the fact that all royal marriages in Novoselic had to be approved by the current monarch: it was illegal for Sonia to marry without her father's approval.

"Besides," She continued, absently breaking off a piece of shortbread biscuit for Sisi and holding it in front of his nose for him to take. He'd stayed at their feet, whining either at Sonia's words or the fact that there were uneaten biscuits on the plate. And he'd been a faithful companion for the reality she had to illustrate for him. No matter how passionate he was, Sonia couldn't in good conscience let him continue without fully explaining the implications of such a request. "We have a heist to think of now, do we not? And...I would never consent to marrying someone without dating them first. The prospect of arranged marriages, where I am from, is in the not-too-distant past: and I vowed I would never be a part of such things. When I do, it will be for love of both spouse and country: I cannot do so otherwise."

#more-than-a-princess answered #scarlxtleaves #Non-Despair AU: The Princess of Novoselic #(Sorry for the wait on this!)#(But as soon as I saw the ask I knew this was going to be a multi para answer)#(Full of conflicting emotions for Sonia)#(Torn between being attracted to him and not being able to live with herself if he didn't understand what her life is like)

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shellyscribbles · 2 years ago

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I wrote almost 2k today so here are some scribbles.

“And here I must leave you.” Chiron said with a friendly smile. “I trust you know which door?”

Zuriel stopped and turned toward him before glancing down the disused hall. “Yeah.” He said softly.

“Very good.” Chiron bowed, turned and vanished quickly around the corner.

Zuriel sighed and started toward the large ornate door near the end of the hall before it made a sharp right. After knocking and receiving his bid to enter, he took hold of the cold metal handle and pushed the heavy door in.

The study was quiet and dimly lit.

“Lock the door please.” Agur’s voice drifted gently from where he stood in the pool of light beneath the window.

Zuriel pushed the door closed and slid the bolt into place before turning back to the king who gestured absently to the chair nearest him as he remained looking intently out the window into the night. He took the offered seat and sat in silence until the king sighed and quietly took the chair across from him.

“You are familiar with the Elder system?” He asked after another moment of silence.

“Uh, yeah. Each race has one member who lives longer than normal.”

Agur let out a soft laugh. “That’s a way of putting it. I am near ten thousand years old.” He frowned and after a pause, added, “I think.” He drew a deep breath and continued, “It’s immortality in a way, but immortality doesn’t come with other…adjustments to assist the Elder. I was one of the first children born on Vale. I knew Abner; was chosen by him to be king.”

The King frowned again as he looked absently at the floor between them. “I don’t remember any of this of course.” He gestured to the shelves behind him and looked at Zuriel. “I know things because they are recorded, not because I remember them.

“I have outlived generations. I had a wife and children. I have lost track of my lineage; I am in some way related to all Wizards in Vale I am sure by now. That sort of loss does something to you even if you can’t remember the loss.”

Zuriel’s brow furrowed as he tried to grasp the purpose of the king’s words.

The king went on, “I was fixated on the past and the history of the races and how they came to Vale. I discovered and traversed the old bridges. I found Cardelsiff, where Wizards originated and studied the original magics of my race. Studied the subtle differences between magic there and magic here. It was there that I encountered Duelings and their use in war.”

“Differences? Is that how I was able to gain three magics instead of two?”

“No. The reality of what a Dueling is accounts for that.”

Zuriel frowned.

“Dueling is not a Vale word, or English, as you must still think of it. Dueling is a Cardelian term. I allowed the misperception as it was helpful to hiding the truth. And the truth must still remain hidden. I have been in isolation near a century now to protect it, but I cannot trick you into saving Vale. You must choose to do so freely.”

“Trick me?” Zuriel tilted his head, a sense of dread rising in his gut.

#The Shadow of Vale #TSoV #Agur #Zuriel #3rd draft scribbles #Kind of an abrupt cut off #but it immediately gets into a huge spoiler

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btssunnyboy · 3 years ago

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Unbelievable - Choi San

He was always rude to you, embarrassing you in front of everyone. So why is he mad that someone better made you an offer?

Warning - Profanity, mention of caffeine, San is mean as fuck, Yandere towards the end, He makes a threat.

Word Count - 3,362 idk if they will be a part 2!

BTS , NCT , ATEEZ — request open.

__________________________________________

Good god, your blood was boiling the moment you saw his door crack open. You could feel your fingernails digging into your palms as you tried to remain calm. The last thing you needed to do was lose your temper and give this man another opportunity to ridicule in front of your co-workers. But judging by that horrendous look on his face you already have a gut feeling that all taht hard work to keep your anger in check is going to fly right through the window. Taking the deepest breath you could take and plastering on that fake smile, you gladly greeted the man that makes your life a living hell.

“These numbers are definitely not to my liking and I refused to be the laughing stock at the board meeting tomorrow.” He huffed heavily as he practically threw the binder down onto your desk. The heavy plastic slamming against the steel desk with a loud thud that echoed through the big hallway. The wind from the fall making papers that previously occupied your desk go flying in every single direction. You could feel your anger bubble up in your chest at the mere disrespect that this man was giving you, and it was driving you insane.

“With all do respect sir, it’s already twelve thirty, and I highly doubt I’ll be able to go over all of these documents by seven thirty in the morning.” You resisted their urge to grit your teeth as you wanted to appear somehow considerate of his complications. Truth be told you didn’t want to do another all nighter when you barely pulled through from the other night. “Besides, I looked over the revenue and margin growths three times before I sent them to your office.”

He scoffed loudly as he licked one of his fingers and then continued to rummage through the papers that were bonded together. His long finger skimmed over the lines multiple times and he flipped each page within a minute. Those piercing eyes stayed locked in on every single number that crossed the page. “Ah, right here it states that we made a profit revenue of fifty million last year, but then it states that this year we’ve only grossed sixty five million. And that’s definitely less than the fifty percent revenue growth that we expected.”

“So, sixty five is not as bad as you’re making it out to be, besides multiple people double checked.” You spoke tiredly as you started packing up your briefcase. Different papers getting stacked together and even crumpled because of the rapid pace that you were going. No matter what happens tonight you were leaving before the clock strikes one in the morning. As you were packing up your eyes met his furious ones and it felt like your world was crumbling down. “Mr. Choi, I’m being honest, your accounting department checked all of these numbers multiple times and I looked over them as much as I could.”

“I know for a fact that we had a fifty percent increase in revenue, now look over these damn numbers again. Or you’ll be kissing this cushy office job goodbye in the morning.” He harshly slammed the binder closed and stalked over to his office door. The audacity of that stupid man, how dare he even threaten you with this job. But as much as you wanted to spit in his face and tell him to shove it you really needed this job, this really well paying job.

You poked your cheek with your tongue out of agitation and roughly grabbed your purse. The bottle of caffeine pills made a clicking sound as you unscrewed the cap within a second. Without a drink of water you downed the pill and grabbed the ugly binder. This was going to be a long night, and these numbers were not going to supposedly fix themselves.

Your fingers tapped the keys on the keyboard rapidly as you searched each collaboration revenue. All of these numbers were lining up, no matter what you searched. Out of the six collaborations Choi enterprise only grossed sixty five million, but for some reason he just won’t listen. All you wanted to do at this point was slump forward and go to sleep, but with that anger that Mr.Choi has you’re scared he might kill you in your sleep. But as the long hours went on and on, you could feel yourself slipping. Your eyelids felt like a ton, and your head was suddenly too heavy for your neck to hold. Before you knew you were out like a light.

—

You’d shoot the person who was jabbing their finger into side if you could. Their bony finger feeling a knife stabbing your rib cage with immense pressure. “Please wake up, y/n, if he notices you’re asleep, who knows what he’ll do!” The jabbing didn’t cease one bit, in fact they just jabbed even harder.

“Okay! I’m up!” You groggily scoffed as your vision was trying to focus on the object in front of you. The figure was simply a mush of different colors all moving in different directions. The harsh lights in the office are in no way making the situation any better. You could make out their hand moving from left to right to try and grab your attention. “Hongjoong?”

“What are you, blind? Of course it’s me, but please I’m begging you get up and go freshen up in the bathroom.” He sighed sadly as he helped your wobbly stance straighten up. His soft hands wrapping around your waist and pulling you close. The soft scent of his cologne filling your nose as you clung to him. “Do you still carry extra clothes in your car?”

“Thankfully yes, but what time is it?” You question as you rubbed your eyes, trying to make all the colors of the world blend back together to form one coherent thing. “Oh god, is it past seven thirty, oh shit! He’s gonna kill me!”

“Calm down, it's only six thirty, but he always gets here at seven. So please go wipe that old makeup off and I’ll get your other clothes.” Hongjoong smiled slightly at you before his eyes shifted towards the oh so famous brown binder. “Did that dick make you go over more numbers the whole night?”

“God yes and it was terrible, but I looked over all six collaborations and I kid you not it all equals sixty five.” You could hear a pin drop on the silence that coated the room. It was beginning to feel suffocating and you physically felt your chest growing heavy with dread. “There were only six right, because that’s all the forms I received.”

“Maybe i'm just thinking of something else, because maybe just maybe -“

“Stop wasting time! Is there more than six?” You panicked as you shoved him away and pulled the rolling chair back to your side. Before your fingers could even reach the keys, Hongjoong’s were there in a second. They tapped rapidly and skimmed through all your emails at a neck breaking pace. “Oh my god I never refreshed the email.”

“We don’t have time to sit here and panic, we have three pages of numbers to go through.” Hongjoong tried to make the situation less tense by offering a helping hand, but he knew that if these numbers weren’t corrected all hell would break loose. And no one wanted to see what Choi San was like when he more than ticked off. He’d probably be past the point of furious if ever saw these unfinished numbers.

—

San’s eyes were narrowed as he eyed the unfamiliar man at your desk. Where the hell were you? He didn’t pay a shit ton of money for you to be everywhere and not in that chair looking pretty. But at this moment he couldn’t control himself as the words flew from his mouth. “What the hell is this?”

That look, that gorgeous look of fear that made his blood rush and his heart pound. Was etched across the unknown man's face and he was basking in the glory of it. San cocked his eyebrow slightly as he leaned forwards on his palms. “Did I suddenly grow two heads or some shit, no? Then answer my question, what the hell is this.”

“I’m so sorry Mr.Choi, but I didn’t notice that there were seven collaborations. I only had six in my email. And Mr.Kim was only helping me scrunch the numbers.”

“You mean to tell me that these numbers aren’t finished! And this meeting is in less than an hour?” His demeanor was calm but the sheer venom in his voice was enough to bring you to your knees. He poked his cheek with his tongue and gave a mean smile in your direction. “I mean it, l/n you’re on thin ice. But if those numbers aren’t corrected then you’re fired.”

“Yes sir.” You gulped as you watched him take heavy steps towards his office. You were in deep shit now. San rubbed his chin as he tried to remain calm and not fire you on the spot. Out of all the times you could have missed up, you decided now was the perfect time. Messing up these numbers would make other investors think that this company cannot handle the responsibility of simply matching numbers. This mistake could completely tank the company and put everyone here out of a job.

Fifty five minutes have passed and investors from other companies are already showing up at the doors. And here he was sitting at the head of the table empty handed, and it was all your fault. It was your fault for not refreshing that damn email, for not paying closer attention to the numbers, for simply not giving it your all. And now it’s going to be your fault that the entire company crumbles and falls straight into the depths below.

“So San, when is this meeting going to officially begin?” Questioned one of the many associates as he leaned back against the velvet chair. A smile bright on his face as if he didn’t care to wait a moment or two for it to begin. But, on the other hand, the leader of the meeting was so furious he could start foaming at the mouth. Because guess what crucial piece of information still wasn’t on his desk.

“We will begin momentarily if my secretary would get her head out of her ass and bring them those god damn numbers.” San spoke with a soft smile on his face. The look he gave the men was a completely different tone from the words he just spoke. Those words help fury and degradation but his smile was so bright it could light up a room or cause someone’s heart to flutter out of their chest. But at this moment all of those men knew at this moment San was anything, but happy.

The sound of the doorknob being yanked on caught everyone’s attention. Their heads jolted towards the cause of the noise as they watched you fiddled with the dozens of papers in her hand. Your smile was uneasy as you tried to reorganize them on your way towards the head of the table. They watched your clammy hands shake with fear as San ripped the paper from your hands. Judging by the way you quickly held your pointed and middle finger they could only guess what happened.

“Why the hell are you still standing here? Do I need to draw you a picture and make it clear that you’re done here?” San scolded as he shoved you a bit and forced you to walk to the door. Fumbling over your own two feet and almost hitting the floor head on at one point. But he didn’t care, because all he wanted to do right now was get this meeting over with. With a final shove and a quick slam of the glass door, he swiftly turned back around to be met with very difficult to decipher expressions.

“Well now that all distractions are gone, let’s get down to business.”

—

Your face was flushed and you could feel your hands start to shake. From the mere interaction with the stupid CEO. The vivid picture of his icy eyes and cold stare were burned into your brain, as his words pounded in your skull without mercy. The man practically belittled you, in a room full of successful CEOs who now probably think you’re a joke.

“Hey, don't worry yourself sick. It was an honest mistake.” Hongjoong consoled you as he eyed your shaken form. The tearful eyes and the constant bouncing of your leg was a dead giveaway of the way you felt at this moment. And he wanted nothing more than to just say everything will be okay, that everything is going to be just fine. But he can’t, because who knows what the jerk will do you do considering your almost costed him a deal.

“Do you think he’ll fire me?” The question hung in the air with such heaviness that it was almost hard to breathe. The thought of losing this job was sending you into a whirlwind of erratic emotions. If this job is gone, there goes the ability to afford your car, hell there goes the ability to afford the damn apartment you’re living in at this moment. You’ll lose eveything, if you’re cut off.

“He better not, and trust me if he ever does, I would be more than happy to have you on my team.” A new man smiled brightly in your direction as he made his way over to your desk. He wasn’t an unfamiliar face around the office as he and Mr.Choi have done business deals of many kinds in the past. “It would truly be an honor to have someone like you working at Jeon Marketing.”

A small smile took over your face as you eyed the man in front of you. Mr.Jeon was an extremely well known CEO in this business, and he’s not too much older than Mr.Choi. You’re genuinely surprised these men are allies in this type of business, if anything you thought they’d be enemies. “Thank you for such kind words, but trust me your opinion on me may change soon.”

“Nonsense, I’ve seen the way you handle situations at this company, especially time crunched ones. I can tell just by looking at your face you stayed up hours just to make sure his numbers were perfect.” Mr Jeon stated as he leaned forward on the desk and clapped his hand together. “And truth be told I wouldn’t mind having such a beautiful face be the face of my company.”

His compliment left you stumped as you eyed his face. The tone he held was lighthearted because he knew this stressful situation needed a little laughter, but you knew from the look on his face he was being serious. About both of his statements. Before you could form a response, he long fingers were reaching into his jacket pocket. “I promise, if you ever need anything. I’m just a call away.”

“His top rival and best friend just offered you a sweet ass deal, are you gonna take it?”

You truly didn’t know the answer to that. I mean on one hand you have your secretary job here, and it pays well. The boss may be a pain in the ass, but it’s the only thing keeping you afloat. And you know that these two companies are neck and neck right now for the top spot, so it’s hard to decipher just how much he’s willing to pay you. But would there be any harm in simply asking the man?

“I’m not gonna lie and say it doesn’t intrigue me, but at the same time I don’t wanna leave you all alone.” You mumbled as you tapped away at the computer keys. Just trying to find any small amount of information about his company. But only mere surface information popped up in the search box. “Would it be a bad thing if I did leave?”

“Sometimes trying something new is good thing, but it really all depends on how you feel. And I have a friend that works there and she told me she makes over 250k a year.” Hongjoong shrugged his shoulders as he stood up to leave. His soft eyes giving a sense of comfort as he started to walk away. “I promise whatever option you pick, you’ll be fine.”

A heavy huff of air passed through your lips as you tried to think of the right answer. If he was right you’d make just a little bit more working for him and he genuinely seems like a nicer boss in general. So the real question is what’s keeping you tied to this job? The only perk about this job is working with Hongjoong and he’s the main reason why you’ve stuck around this long. The men from before were now exiting San’s offer with bright smiles on their faces, and you could only conclude that those numbers truly were the right ones. But just as your eyes leave their smiles you’re met with someone who has the complete opposite expression.

He briskly walked towards you and hastily cleared his throat. The stone cold expression he was supporting made a shiver go down your spine. Without a second thought he grabbed your hand and hauled you off in the direction of his office, with his nails piercing the skin of your wrist. Within a second he shoved you into his office and slammed the door behind him.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” His stern voice echoed in the office. Bouncing off the walls left and right and continuing to bounce inside your skull. The fingernails that were pressing into your skin felt like sharp needles protruding into you. You could have sworn you saw blood pass through his fingers. “Answer me!”

“I’m sorry! But I don’t understand what you’re talking about.” You panicked as you tried to yank your arm away from his hardened grasp. Those eyes of his start to terrify you the longer you stay in his touch. But he wasn’t letting you get away if anything the more you struggled against him the tighter his hold got.

“I saw that dumb fucker hand you his card, and for some unknown reason you took it. So what that’s it, you’re just gonna fucking leave after everything I’ve done for you?” He spat words at you left and right. Not bothering to back up any of his claims. He speaks as if he’s given you pure gold to walk but in reality all he’s given you is eggshells. You have to be careful around you, you’re never treated well, and he wants to sit up on his throne and act as if he’s treated you like royalty?

“If anything you’ve given me shit! You’re treating me like crap any chance you get, I made one mistake and your response to that is belittling me in front of other people!” You shouted back with just as much venom as he has done to you. With a final yank from your arm, you relaxed yourself from his grip. Tired of his antics you looked him dead in the eyes and spoke. “And so what if I take his offer, he’d be a better boss than you ever were!”

“I mean it, L/n, you take that deal and I’ll make your life a living hell.” He threatened as he got closer and closer. His minty breath fanned your face slightly as he harshly grabbed your chin. “Trust me, this is one bet you’ll regret taking if you leave.”

“I’ll take that damn bet any day.” You tried to push his chest back but he was stronger than you. What surprised you the most was the cackle-like laugh that passed through his lips. A wide smile taking over his face and that somehow made the situation more sinister.

“I warned you, Y/n.”

238 notes · View notes

oopsimbug · 3 years ago

Text

in which... y/n is just trying to put on eyeliner and harry is bored pt. two

a/n: when she’s back from a six month hiatus after making only ONE fic. wow, do i suck. for anyone who cares, school has been pretty rough. i’m actually procrastinating studying for an exam to finally upload this. it’s been pretty hard to balance both school and writing but oh well. anywho, here it finally is. it took so long to write because i wasn’t feeling very inspired by this. a lot of people asked for a part two and even though i kinda wanted to leave it on a sad note, i am a sucker for giving the people what they want, so sorry if this is a bit shit- i definitely don’t like this one myself. i guess i’m not one for fluffy endings. well, at least for this one i wasn’t. i really hope you enjoy it! more stuff to come, if school doesn’t mind fucking off for a little while (or maybe just forever?) xox -(a) bug

pairing: best friend! harry styles x reader

summary: Harry is worried about Y/n. Y/n is worried about Harry. Harry is solving it by thinking of ways to check on her, while Y/n uses cheesy pasta and the Fresh Prince of Bel Air as an excuse to not think. But what will happen when someone is at her door, and it’s not her delivery man?

warnings: angst, swearing, y/n and harry being idiotos, fluffy end, kissing

word count: 5.3k

It had been a week.

One gruelling, painfully long week.

Harry was biting his nails, staring up at the ceiling as he laid in his bed, worrying about her.

About how he fucked up.

He didn’t think that she would be upset for this long. He thought she would scream at him and then text him the following day, wanting to hang out- a silent “I forgive you”, he supposed.

But after two days of radio silence on her end, he decided to call her. The only problem was that her last words to him were “leave”. She wanted space. She needed to think things through- what things? Harry had no clue. But he had to respect her and her choice to not want him around. So with that, he put down the phone.

But a small part of him (okay fine, a big part of him), wanted her to just show up at his house so they could cuddle again, talking about the stupidest of things while they made cupcakes in his kitchen. They would be listening to groovy music and now and then, they’d stop mixing bowls and sifting flour to dance- well, they were horrible dancers, so more so just wave their hands, hips and shoulders around. It would be fun and would always end up with them laughing at one another. He would lick the batter and she would berate him, telling him that “one of these days, you are going to get salmonella and I’ll just laugh at your stupid ass” and he would retort with something witty and a bit flirty like “don’t worry darling, we both know you would be right at my side if I got sick. I know you can’t stand being apart from me” with a wink and a cheeky smirk. He just wants to see her in her oversized Space Jam hoodie and little basketball shorts. Or her short flower shirt and his sweatpants that she has to cuff at the bottoms because they’re too long. Or even-

He’s gotta stop thinking about her, or his brain will soon explode. But he just can’t stop. He tries to think of the happier moments, like her showing him a tour of her very healthy houseplants that she prides herself in, but every time he closes his eyes, all he can see is her teary face telling him to leave. So no, if he was given the choice to think of her flailing her arms around in his kitchen to dancehall tunes while making sweet treats or crying at something that he provoked, you bet your ass he’d choose the former.

But after the seventh day, he knew that something wasn’t right. This was too much “thinking time”. For all he knew, she could be fine, but she could also be positively bawling. She could be living for this free time, but she also could be waiting for him to make the first move. She could be wanting Harry out of her life for her benefit forever, but she also could be feeling lonely and counting the seconds for their makeup, just like he was.

That was it. He had to go see her and make sure his best friend was okay.

He practised what he was going to say to her in his car on the way to her apartment. “Y/n, I’m so sorry for how I acted. I didn’t stop to think about how you were feeling and didn’t take your emotions into account which was unbelievably wrong of me. I’m truly sorry. It’s just that I really care about you and you’re my best friend and I can’t see you choose a tinder fuck over me and if I saw him in the street I would knock his lights out and I just want to kiss you, can I kiss you, oh god please let me kiss you I just want to-“

Fuck, what was wrong with him? Why was he so upset? He had been on plenty of dates with other celebrities and models and she was always on the sidelines, cheering him on. So why was he getting so touchy-feely about a single tinder date? Maybe he was just in desperate need of attention. He hadn’t had a girlfriend for almost one year and casual fuck arounds also stopped about four months ago, so maybe he just needed to fuck someone quick. That would explain why he sees his best friend’s kindness and natural flirty nature as something more romantic. Every laugh at his jokes, every look in her eyes, every graze of her hand on his thighs as she leans over him to get her drink on the side table next to him, he becomes more switched on and awake. She leaves him feeling giddy and excited at every conversation. “This can’t just be because I’m horny right?” he cannot believe he would ever be that horny. What the hell was he going to do?

This is pathetic she thought.

I’m pathetic.

She let out a huge sigh before shoving another forkful of cheesy pasta into her mouth.

What am I doing?

The answer?

Eating carbs upon carbs upon carbs, lounging on her comfy sofa in the most comfortable, yet daggiest pair of pyjamas ever while watching reruns of The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air for the fiftieth time, actively avoiding all commitments, housework and jobs that involve moving further than to the kitchen, which even then was an embarrassingly burdening trek on its own.

But she let it slide. How could she not? She was upset and this was how she coped. That’s what she kept reminding herself as she boiled more and more pasta watching the days pass her by without realisation, but now, she’s beginning to question if this was the best idea. Pushing all thoughts of him out of her mind by not looking at her phone just in case he called or texted. But she was beginning to struggle.

It wasn’t his fault. He didn’t know what inner turmoil she was facing. He seemed genuinely hurt when she snapped at him. He truly didn’t understand why she took so much offence to the playground ribbing, it seemed. And she had to go be a dick and ignore him. He was probably worried sick. How many times would he have called to check up on her? 10? 15? The more she thought about it, the more she wanted this stupid feud to be over and just be in his arms again, even if it’s just as a friend. So she caved. Turned on her phone, expecting there to be at least a call or a text asking if she was still alive or not. And although she did receive a message of that likeness, it wasn’t from Harry, no. It was from her daily water tracking app, pleading her to fill in her daily intake of water so as to not die of dehydration after she was suspected to have not drunk any for the entire week when in reality, she was just too in her head to open her stupid phone and log her water.

Wow, she thought.

Now not only has Harry chosen to not speak to you, but you also look like a huge idiot right now. Of course, he wouldn’t want to talk to you! You got pissed at him for absolutely no reason and now he hates you. He’s gonna ask for his cardigan and track pants that he keeps at your house in case he wanted to sleepover. He’s going to take back all of his little knick-knacks that he leaves over, like the cute diffuser that he leaves because he knows you need it for your constant hay-fever that blocks your nose and then he’s going to declare that you aren’t friends anymore and then you will never get the chance to tell him how you feel and then-

Her panicky brooding is interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Who the hell could that be?”, she thinks. It was too late for it to be the postman with her package containing her entire Amazon wish list that she bought on the third day of mourning to make herself feel better. But it couldn’t be Mrs Xiao asking her if she had any holes in her shirts that needed stitching. The sweet old lady fell asleep at 8:37 pm sharp after her medicine that she’d take at 8:30 pm would kick in (which she learnt after spending nights over at her apartment where her niece, Mei, took care of her. Y/n would learn traditional recipes like baozi and watch movies with her two friends all the time). It couldn’t be Mei either, she was always in online uni lectures from 8:30-10:30 pm, locked away in her little study, so as to not bother or be bothered. So now, a little panicked, Y/n wondered who was truly at her door?

Another two knocks come, echoing off the walls of her little apartment as she turns down the volume of the program she was watching. She stares at the door from her couch, debating whether she should risk getting stabbed by a possible murderer or not, before ultimately deciding that life was too short. She was also getting sick and tired of the knocks that kept arriving in threes. She swings her legs off the couch and onto the floor, pushing them into her slippers so that her feet wouldn’t touch the cold floor, waddling her way to the door before shyly opening it, peeking at who it could be through the tiny crack in the opening, hoping whoever it was wouldn’t mind her current state: belly filled with pasta, hair knotty, giant shirt with sweatpants on and Harry’s patchwork cardigan hanging off her shoulders- which she had been wearing all day, cherishing the pretty piece of clothing and his scent imbedded in it, taking it all in just in case he asks for it back. She peeps at the torso of this mystery person, realising that Harry owns the jumper worn by them, before looking up and locking eyes with a worn out and tired eyed Harry, one hand in the pocket of the familiar hoodie and another extended out near the door, ready to knock again before freezing when it opens up all the way to show herself to her best friend. He doesn’t eye her up and down cheekily like he normally does when she is wearing pyjamas, wolf-whistling at her relaxed state, claiming that “You look runway-ready, my love! Do a twirl for the crowd, will you?”. Instead, he stares her right in the eyes with what looks like almost relief, before smiling a weak and broken smile.

One of them needed to break the silence or both would have just stared at each other in her doorway until the world exploded. So she starts.

“Hi.” her voice hovers a tinge above a whisper, almost as though if she dared to speak louder, this probable illusion of the one she loves would fade away. He lights up a little bit, probably relieved that she started the conversation.

“Hey,” his soft voice matched her volume and tone as if he too didn’t want this to be a dream. “May I come in?” The words sound awkward to her coming out of his mouth. Harry never had to ask for permission to be invited in- he usually just strolled in without so much as a holler to indicate he was present, finding amusement in scaring her instead while she was doing whatever she was doing, whether that be reading, watching a movie, cooking or napping. They were the best of friends and never had to inquire about entry to each other’s domains, along with other small things like if they had anything in their kitchens to eat or if they could sit somewhere, so hearing it was a little disheartening and provoked Y/n to think about how serious this situation was.

“Okay”, she replied after the pause of contemplation, opening the door fully so that the lanky boy could follow along behind her, like a little puppy. She didn’t like how awkward the situation was. She just wanted things to go back to what they were.

But then you wouldn’t be able to tell him you love him... her inner voice argued. And she agreed. She knew that yes, this will be awkward, but it’s an opportunity for him to listen to her and know that she isn’t joking.

“Would you like some tea?” She enquires. They’ll need to handle this like proper grown-ups (which in all honesty, isn’t their dynamic- it’s more like first-year uni students who are mature enough to have deep conversations but still laugh at dad jokes and anything remotely serious, like a painting with boobs), and from what she knows, or has seen in movies when the characters are being serious, is that you need tea or a drink of that sort and a sit down on the couch where you talk stuff out. So that’s exactly what she does.

“Yes please,” Harry’s soft voice replies as he toes off his boots that most definitely cost more than her apartment. Y/n nods and heads to the small kitchenette and flips the switch on the electric kettle before going into her cupboard that housed the mugs. Harry stood awkwardly near the sofas, and to save him the embarrassment of waiting while standing, Y/n invites him to sit with a small, “You can take a seat,” and a quick glance at him before returning her gaze to the mugs to make herself look busy. She didn’t want to look him in the eyes for more than three seconds in fear of bursting into tears and the worn out and tired sight of him. She shakes the thought out of her head and begins to prepare the mugs.

Y/n put two teabags in her mug while putting one in Harry’s. She was raised in a household of avid tea drinkers and she inherited her strong tea quirk from her father who would always keep two teabags with only a dash of milk, and the only difference between her tea and her fathers was that Y/n wasn’t strong enough to take her tea without sugar, unlike her father, who thought that drinking unbelievably concentrated leaf juice with milk was a fun and relaxing time. On the other hand, Harry liked to keep one tea bag in his mug while he drank it, but just like her father, he too took little to no sugar with his cup, being the health freak he was. And early in their friendship, when she mentioned it to him, Harry chuckled and chirped, “Your father is a smart man. He has to be for raising amazing and talented people like your siblings. I’m not sure what went wrong with you though...” while booping her nose as they laid together under a tree for a little picnic. And though she rolled her eyes at him and punched his shoulder for the sly dig at her, she was practically beaming at the fact that he thought her family was smart. Harry had no idea how much that meant to her. Y/n loved her entire family, and she was unbelievably close to them, so it made her entire week to know that Harry, someone she respected and loved so much, recognised how talented and smart each of her family members were. Don’t get her wrong, she didn’t need the validation to know that her family was amazing, but she felt so special knowing he took the time to notice. He did that a lot though. Doing things that meant a lot to her without batting an eye. Saying things that only a person as observant as he could notice, like complimenting her eye colour in the light and asking her to read for him because he constantly mentions how much he loves her voice.

Y/n looked over to the same sweet guy she fell head over heels for, who was sitting on her couch, fidgety as ever, and wondered if they would ever be the same after the very next moments to come. She didn’t want things to change between them, but she was dying inside knowing that he wasn’t hers. And getting over him was not in the question, after the fiasco that happened last week. She just wished she could get inside his head to sate her painful curiosity.

What is he thinking about?

What is she thinking about?

It’s the million-dollar question running through his mind. What was she pondering over as she made them tea? Did she want to talk to him? Was she mad that it took him so long to find the balls to face her? Was she as nervous as he was? Was she worried that they would never be the same again like he was?

He was going into panic mode, questioning everything, while probably looking stupid as ever. As much as he regretted how awkward things were now, and the fact that he instigated her to lash out at him a week ago, he was realising that he was not regretting the fact that he did it. He didn’t want her to go out with someone else, and she didn’t. And yes, of course, he feels bad-beyond bad, in fact- for making her cry, and wishes he could take it all back, he also sees this as an opportunity to tell her how he feels about her. He could finally tell her that he thinks about her all the time. About her soft smile, her bright eyes, her melodic laugh, her speaking voice that brings butterflies to his stomach. He could tell her about how he loses himself at work, the grocery store, fuck- even at events- thinking about what she was doing at her house. Was she under her blankets on her couch, watching some corny tv show? Was she baking her signature choc chip cookies that taste like the gods blessed every single biscuit on the tray before they were put in the oven? Was she knitting her cat, Chesnut, another rug to plonk herself down on, with her feet up on the ottoman as she listened to the 7 o’clock news on the radio? Was she writing a paper for another deadline? Something so sophisticated, like the exploration of white and male privilege and how it is ingrained in our society? Something that Harry tried to understand and research so that he could stay in the loop with his smart girl’s interests, but he always struggled with.

It was a huge insecurity of his. Not that his best friend was smarter than he was, no way. He treasured the fact that she could and would whip his ass at a debate on things like the state of the world, or human rights. She could school him on global politics, languages, maths, science, history and literally anything else, and he would be cheering her on. What he was insecure about was her realising that he was probably slowing her down in life. Y/n was well within her rights to kick him out of her life for being nothing but a freeloader and stopping her from reaching her full potential, what with him constantly stopping her from her own life to help him go through shit happening in his. Whenever he was sad, or confused, or upset, Y/n was the first person he would talk to and he feared that she would realise that he was probably taking advantage of her and stop talking to him. And that scared him. It scared him because he knew that she didn't need him at all, but he needed her to do anything in life. Every major and minor decision in his life has been approved by Y/n first, and not because she was a controlling friend who didn’t trust him with his own life, but because Harry needed her validation. Harry Styles, a world-famous superstar, had girls, guys and non-binaries at his feet, following his every beck and call. Harry Styles, who was on the cover of every magazine, known by every celebrity, dated only the most perfect of women, required validation from Y/n, a psychology major at a small university. Y/n, who liked to plan her day out on a to-do list, end up not doing anything on that to-do list and cry about it afterwards. Y/n, who breaks it down to “Murder She Wrote” by Chaka Demus & Pliers like it’s her last 4 minutes and 5 seconds alive on this Earth while making pancakes. Y/n, who cries more when she’s laughing while watching Tik Toks than she does during sad movies.

To celebrities, Y/n was nothing but a regular. But to Harry, she was all. She was the warmth of a sweater that you toss in the dryer for a few minutes to make it extra toasty. She was the pad of butter that you spread onto your pumpkin sourdough toast and it ends up being exactly the amount you wanted. She was the feeling when you are driving home from a long day of interviews and premiers, and you’re on the freeway and the windows down and you just… exist. She is the feeling you get when you watch Pride and Prejudice, and the relief of when you find the perfect word to end a lyric. She is when your shoes fit perfectly, and when you finish a book so utterly fulfilling that you lie there in a trance, looking up at your ceiling at 3 am, wondering how you could have been so lucky to be able to be blessed with an ending like the one you just read. Y/n was all those things and more.

And that’s why he had to tell her he loved her. No matter how scared he was.

***

The electric kettle is finished boiling the tea all too quickly as the bubbling comes to an end and the distinct click of the switch turning back off echoes around the silent apartment. Y/n had poured the scalding hot water into the two cups she had prepared stared into them.

It was time. She had tried to avoid this for as long as possible, but now it was the moment to face the music. She picked up the two mugs of tea and brought them to her lounge where Harry was sitting on her worn in green sofa, staring at her coffee table, eyebrows scrunched, pouted lips, deep in thought, before looking up at her with wide green eyes, and followed her to where she stood in front of him. She passed his mug to him before sitting on the comfy chair a few feet away from the sofa and from him, putting some distance in between them for her sake, so that she wouldn’t try to hug him and say sorry without saying what she needed to say first. Which she needed to start talking about now, so as not to sit in the awkward silence created by the two.

Say something!!

“So…’

Jesus fuck…. was that all you could think of? Wow. I am going to lose my best friend.

Y/n was choking.

“I am so sorry,” Harry’s voice intercepts, raspy from the lack of use, looking up from the coffee table he seemed so interested in. “I am so fucking sorry Y/n. I have no excuse as to why I was making fun of you that day. I pushed too far and I am a shit friend for not noticing that you were already on edge. It was so wrong of me and I am so sorry.” He stopped himself before he started to ramble, looking at her with eyes filled with an emotion she couldn’t decipher.

Y/n felt… unsatisfied. Why did she feel this way? He apologised, right? So why does she feel unfulfilled? Why does she want him to say more? He hit all of the points he had to for a standard apology, so why did she think he hadn’t done enough? Was it that little optimist in her brain hoping he would maybe reveal a slight attraction to her? Maybe tell her that he loves her, and has loved her forever and ever? Confess that she has bewitched him, body and soul so that she didn’t have to? God, was she an idiot. But a lovestruck idiot at that. She bites her tongue and replies.

“Harry, I forgive you. Although you were annoying as ever,” She rolls her eyes and smirks, while he lets out a breathy, half-assed chuckle, showing his acknowledgement at her attempt to ease the lowered yet still prevalent tension. She continues. “ I understand that you were just trying to have fun. I guess I was the one who irrationally lashed out . I am always okay with you poking fun at me, but I was just frustrated and tired and I took it out on you. I’m sorry for the improper communication and I’m sorry for pushing you away when we should’ve just talked…”

“I forgive you too. I think this was just miscommunication on both parts.” He stared into her eyes, almost as if he could sense the discontent in her, but chose to ignore it.

“I guess so.” She halfheartedly answered, not really knowing where to take the conversation next. They had both apologised, but evidently still had things to say. Well, Y/n had things to say, that’s for sure, but she was pretty sure that Harry wanted to say something too. He had that look on his face where he wanted to say something but was forcing himself not to.

What does he want to say? Why can’t he say it to my face? I mean, sure, I’m also hiding shit I wanna say, but I have an excuse. This could ruin our friendship. What does he have to say?

“Great,” Harry replies, trying to fill the awkward pauses and conversation that is being held. He still looked like he had something to say, but seemed like he was not budging.

Well, if he’s not saying anything, I’m not either. Why do I have to confess my feelings and put our friendship on the line if he isn’t even going to say what’s on his mind?

“So, are we good?”

“I don’t know. Are we? I mean, I forgive you and you forgive me, right?”

“Right… No yeah, we’re alright. We’re completely fine!” Y/n replies quickly. Why the fuck would you say that? You’re not fine.

There is a pregnant pause and Y/n has half a better mind to just get up, walk to the bathroom again with her head down and lock herself in there till he leaves again, because she cannot take this awkward conversation. Not with him. She shifts, ready to stand up to get some water, when Harry looks at her, confusion and slight panic setting into his face.

“Wait. I don’t think I’m fine…” She looks up at the boy sitting in front of her, reading the words from her mind like they were scribed on a piece of paper in the blackest of ink, permanent and bold. Her heart stuttered. What else did he want?

“Is everything okay, H?” she tentatively asks. He loses eye contact with her, gaze lowering towards the table in front of him

“I-” he pauses, trying to collect his thoughts while simultaneously trying to explain to her why he wasn’t okay. “I just- fuck” his head falls down, his face inches away from the hot tea in his hands, the humid steam billowing out of the mug and warming his elegant face as he takes a deep breath and tries once more to convey his thoughts. “I don’t want us to be friends again.”

Her heart stops. This could go one of two ways. He could either be confessing his hatred or his adoration for her, and either one would probably end with her imploding. She tries to take a neutral tone when she replies.

“What does that mean, H?”

He looks at her once more. “It’s not enough, Y/n... “

“What?” She is confused. Her friendship isn’t enough? How is she supposed to reply to that?

“I want more. I don’t want us to just be friends. I want to be more with you. I want to do more with you. I want to do things that friends… they shouldn’t do together…”

Is he trying to confess he likes her? Why, in all the ways you could speak, would he choose to speak like that?! She has had enough of him dawdling around his feelings. “Harry, stop being cryptic and fucking tell me what’s going on?!”

“I love you, Y/n! I fucking love you, Y/n. So much. And it is eating me from the inside out. I hate that we can’t be normal anymore, and I hate that you don’t love me the way I love you, but I cannot sit here and pretend everything is fine, because I love you.”

Y/n is stunned. Frozen in her spot. Can’t move, can’t speak, can’t breathe. Stuck in space, and stuck in time.

Holy fucking shit… he loves me…

While Y/n processes the life changing knowledge that her best friend loves her, her best friend conveniently sits next to her, wishing that he was dead for the letdown he was about to receive.

“Say something… please, for the love of God, say something!”

****

She looks up at Harry. Not Harry Styles, playboy, whore, singer, millionaire, but instead; Harry, her best friend of five years, reddened face out of embarrassment. She sees the mortality in his eyes. Feels his presence so heavily in the moment. She is in awe. True awe of him, and his ability to love her. And with that awe- and that stupid look on her face, she reaches up and cradles his face in her hands, brushing her thumbs softly over his plush pink lips. He stands just as still as her, barely breathing, as if it would shatter the fantasy to stardust and he would wake up in his bed, cold shivers running down his spine, as has happened previously whenever he thought of this moment, staring up at his ceiling at 3:40AM wondering why he thought of his best friend in such a way. She creeped closer to his face before stopping a breath away from him, and whispered.

“Is this okay?”

She looked into his eyes, and he looked into hers, both never feeling so alive before. He wishes to tell her that she needn’t ask for his permission, and that he wants to kiss her forever. Eternally locked in an embrace that holds their souls together. But all he can muster is a weak and broken whisper back.

“Please,”

She can hold it for no longer, and leans in the rest of the way, their lips moulding together, for the very first time, eyes fluttering close, as his hands reach to grab her by the hips to straddle him, deepening the kiss even further. And when they part for breath, panting for air with slightly moist lips, they touch foreheads, eyes still closed. Words needn’t be exchanged- everything that yearned to be said was useless, as it could never describe how they truly felt for each other. So hopelessly besotted with one another, that all they could do was breathe together before kissing once more, hoping that their actions could provide even an iota of an idea of how much they love one another.

Two best friends, turned lovers forevermore.

#by bug #harry styles angst #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles imagine #harry styles #harry styles fluff #hope you have a wonderful day my little pots of sweet tea!

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wolvesandpetals · 3 years ago

Text

Loki x Sylvie Post-Finale Fanfiction (Angst, Rated Teen) Part 1 of 2

SPOILER ALERT.

It's probably just the alcohol, but the beats of the music are starting to sound a little bit like a marching drum that's announcing war. She can feel herself dancing along to it, but her whole body is on alert, ready to switch to fight and flight any second.

"So, cool place huh?" The bloke in the leather jacket asks.

She tries to remember his name. Jeff something. Or maybe Jed. No, not Jed, she's thinking of Star Wars again. That's what happens when you binge watch a multiverse of movies in a single day.

Oh, yeah, that's right. She broke the multiverse.

Another shot of tequila, and she takes not-Jed's hand in hers. It doesn't feel right, at least not the way-

No.

She realises he asked her a question, but she can't remember what, and she just laughs, because that always works.

Encouraged, he leans in close and whispers into her ears. "How about we get out of here?"

"And go where, exactly?" She asks, but she's not sure he understands, not with how slurred the words come out.

She laughs again, and this time, it's bitter. This time, she's laughing at how this is so him, this getting drunk in the face of imminent danger and making a mess of things.

(But I'm not you.)

---

She's frozen in her place the second the glowing yellow door appears. But it's not for her, at least not this time.

She hasn't been on the run for a while. Doesn't need to be. Because even though she is the one who unleashed the chaos, it's the chaos that needs to be contained immediately. She's low on the list of priorities.

The TVA will come for her. But not right now.

---

It's extremely easy pretending to be a psychic. All she has to do is take her client's hands and enchant him, find a memory, describe it back to him.

Sometimes she does it just for fun, just to see the look of amazement on their faces.

Other times, she does it for the money she needs to survive.

"And I see a blonde woman. Very beautiful."

"That's my wife."

The way he smiles, loving and proud, makes her heart drop.

"What do you see in her future? Is she happy? Does she get the job at the magazine?"

There is definitely at least one timeline where she does get the job, but The Enchantress cannot exactly tell if it's this one. She can't actually see the future, after all.

She sees the colors drain from his face as her silence swallows the room. "She's going to be okay, right? I just want her to be okay."

(I just want you to be okay.)

There's that bitter laugh again, because-

No. She can't do this right now.

"She loves you very much", she whispers, to the man in front of her, and to the man who is not there to hear those words.

---

Mobius finds her in the middle of a concert by a Nirvana where Kurt Cobain never died. She can easily slip away, disappear into the screaming, writhing crowd if she wants.

Or she can just take him some place quiet and hear him out.

"Help us", Mobius pleads. He sounds exhausted, and not just physically. "We're outnumbered and outwitted. Our world is in danger."

"This isn't my world", she reminds him.

"Yet, you're here", he retorts.

Her smile is pained. "Where else will I go?"

He is sympathetic, like he always has been. And he offers her a new glorious purpose. "Come with me. We need you. He needs you."

She feels the air find its way out of her lungs the same way she pushed him out of her life- painfully, forcefully. "H-how is he?"

"He's okay... all things considered."

Now there's a cocktail of relief and disappointment that will give her months of sleepless nights.

"Tell him I'm-" she starts, but she doesn't know how to finish that sentence. What can she tell him? That she's sorry for not trusting him when she should have? That she's sorry for making the universes collide?

That she's sorry for betraying him and breaking his heart?

(How will I know you won't betray me at the end?)

"Nevermind."

---

It's been really hard facing the consequences of her actions, watching the timelines bleed into each other and destroy people's lives- families torn, achievements gone, every little anomaly delving into death and destruction. Every headline on the newspaper is her fault, and she has to live with that.

But that seems so easy compared to this moment where she has to face him.

The plan was to send him away, kill He Who Remains, give people their free will back, save the world, then come back to him. Yeah, he'd be mad at her at first, sure, but he'd forgive her eventually, she was confident.

Then the timelines started to branch the minute she stuck the dagger in that terrifying man's chest, and she knew she had screwed up.

She had sunk to the ground in defeat as the realisation of the repercussions hit her, and she did what she has always done- run.

She didn't even realise she had sent him to the wrong universe until she teleported herself into another universe as well. The journey back was long and lonely, but she dreamt of him in colors while the world was bleeding red, and that was enough to keep her going.

She doesn't really know what she'll do when she sees him again. Neither does she know what reaction she expects from him. Nothing he can say to her can be worse than what she thinks of herself.

A part of her hopes he would be overwhelmingly happy, he would come running to her, just like he did at The Void, greet her with the smile that has won a hundred hearts- including hers, and tell her everything will be alright. Another part of her fears that he would be furious, and he would confront her with accusations of unleashing havoc on all worlds- especially his.

What she never expected is this eerie calm that makes her feel like she is standing in the storm center.

His walls are up.

And it causes her to redirect the anger she feels at herself towards him. There's venom in her voice. "So you do get to rule, after all."

"I don't feel much like a king." He shrugs. "I'm more of a multiversal janitor. Mopping up multiversal messes."

"My messes."

"Our messes." He corrects, his features softening around the edges. "We made a mistake." He has been saying that ever since he found himself in the alternate TVA, and that hasn't changed even after getting back to his own version of the bureau. Always "we", never "she". He simply cannot bring himself to blame her without taking accountability for his part in the mess.

"Don't patronize me." Her hands are shaking, just like her voice, a sharp contrast to his steady silhouette, and can he just hold her, please? "I don't need you to take the fall for me."

His eyes go cold, like they were forged in the heart of Jotunheim. "Of course not", he says, fully composed. "You don't need me for anything. It's not like we're in this together."

(Maybe we can figure it out-together.)

---

She now knows her walls don't- can't- keep the hurt out- it just keeps her locked inside this cage of distrust and insecurities. And the price she has to pay for it is too high.

They could have been lying on a beach somewhere, sipping mimosas right now. Instead, they're here, in the vast, silent library of the TVA, sitting on separate tables, reading files on variants.

The only thing worse than bearing the weight of his gaze is having him stare at his files without looking in her direction even once. She can't take it anymore.

"I'm sorry." She suddenly blurts out.

He looks up, confused. "I'm sorry?"

"I'm sorry for what I did." She repeats. It's difficult to start an apology, but once she finds the strength to begin, the rest of it flows automatically. "I'm sorry I messed up everything. I'm sorry I broke the timelines. I'm sorry the world is in danger." She takes in a deep breath. "And I'm sorry I betrayed you."

His smile is the saddest kind. "A Loki betraying a Loki. That's the least surprising thing in the world. What's shocking is how I didn't see it coming. You really had me going with that kiss. Very nice distraction. Very Loki."

Free will comes with the fine-print of living with the consequences of your choices. And she has to live with hers every day. The tears finally spill out of her eyes. She hasn't let herself cry for a long, long time. But now she's breaking down worse than the multiverse. "I didn't do it to distract you. I did it to say goodbye."

He gets up, and she panics that he's leaving. Instead, he sits down in front of her, reaches for her hand, but changes his mind mid-way and lets them fall to his side. "You didn't have to say goodbye."

"It's all I've ever known." She feels like that scared little girl, far from home, running from minute men, with nobody to turn to but herself. "I told you, I don't have anyone."

"You had me."

That's the saddest part of it all, isn't it? Everything else in her life is the TVA's fault. She's torn from Asgard? Hasn't seen her parents in years? Can't remember her brother Thor? Spent her whole childhood running and hiding? All TVA.

But this? This is all her own doing. This is the one time she had something real, something worth holding onto, someone worth fighting against the world for. Instead, she questioned his intentions, didn't hold on, fought him and ruined everything.

"I didn't want to rule, Sylvie", he finally tells her. "I wanted you."

She has dreamed of this moment when he tells her how he feels. They have come so close to it so many times, the words dangling off the edge of his tongue but never quite finding their way out. She has always known- every word, every action pointed to it. But it was so hard to imagine someone could love her.

It's so hard to imagine someone can love her again. The past tense in his wording terrifies her worse than any danger ever could. "Is it too late to fix things?"

His smile doesn't reach his eyes. "We are fixing things. That's why we are here. Saving the universe."

"You know what I mean."

"I don't know how to trust you again, Sylvie." He tells her point blank- no deception, no lies, no Loki-ism. "And you never trusted me to begin with."

That's not entirely true. She trusts him more than she has trusted anyone. "I really thought I was doing the right thing."

"I know."

(Not to be dramatic, but yeah, we're saving the universe.)

---

The Avengers are much nicer than Loki described them, considering they don't kill her for what she has done, instead tell her about their own journeys towards redemption. Wanda tells her about the man she has loved and lost, and the pain she has caused to an entire town. Barnes talks about his past as a brainwashed assassin. Clint tells her the story of Natasha and how she took charge and changed her life.

Thor is the kindest of them all. He talks about how far Loki himself has come. He tells her stories of his version of Asgard, the nine realms, the glorious battles, the beauty of earth.

She still dreams of death, but sometimes she doesn't.

Sometimes, she hopes.

---

(To be continued)

#loki x sylvie #fanfiction #sylvie x loki #loki fanfic #loki #sylvie laufeydottir #sylki fanfic #sylki

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wrenhyperfixates · 4 years ago

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Queen of the Night

Pairing: Loki x reader Summary: Loki takes you to the rooftop greenhouse to show you his favorite flower, the queen of the night. Your evening ends with a confession of love. Warnings: the tiniest bit of angst but also excessively fluffy A/N: The reader is gender neutral; queen in the title refers only to the flower. Enjoy :)

Tag List: @lucywrites02 @frostedgiant @lunarmoon8 @twhiddlestonsstuff @lokistan @thelokiimaginechroniclesficrecs @gaitwae @whatafuckingdumbass @castiels-majestic-wings @kozkaboi @cozy-the-overlord

Disclaimer! Gif not mine

You looked up from your game of solitaire as Loki flopped down on the sofa next to you. He looked exhausted, even more so than he usually did after a training session with Thor. Loki sighed, and you set your cards aside, turning your body to give him your full attention.

“Are you ok?” you asked as he shook his head no. You hugged his head to your chest and scratched his back lightly. He was practically purring at your gentle touch. “Want to talk about it?”

“Yes, darling, I do,” he began. “Thor uses brute strength, and not to mention Mjolnir, when we train. Yet I am unable to use my magic, for it is against the rules that he set for our sessions. Just like back home. He doesn’t even seem to have a strategy; just punch. It is so unfair!”

“Extremely so,” you agreed. “Have you tried talking to him? Or not training with him anymore.”

“I have, but he just makes those pathetic puppy-dog eyes. Says it reminds him of Asgard. I, on the other hand, was hoping this would be one of the things I could escape by moving to Midgard, these wretched training sessions.” He sighed again. “It makes me think I preferred my cell.”

“You don’t mean that!” you said in a panic. It broke your heart to hear him say such a thing.

“You are right, I do not,” he calmed you. He pulled back from your embrace a little so he could cup your cheeks. “It is just very frustrating.”

“Well, if you ever need to rant, I’m here.”

“I know, darling. Thank you.”

He leaned in as if he was going to kiss you. You tried not to get your hopes up. Heaven knows how many times you’d been in this same situation, one of you leaning in towards the other before thinking better of it. Everyone else in the Tower seemed to be over the unspoken thing between you and Loki. Quite frankly, you were pretty exasperated with it, too. Still, that voice in your mind kept wondering if maybe you were wrong, if there was no unspoken thing. Then you’d look like an absolute fool, and maybe even lose your best friend. Or, at very least, make things uncomfortable between you for a while. Regardless, the pattern continued, and he broke away.

“Darling?” he said after a minute of silence spent sitting in such a close proximity without actually doing anything, that it was bordering more on awkward than adorable. “I was wondering if you would like to join me tonight in the greenhouse on the roof? There is something I wish to show you.”

“I would love to, Loki,” you replied with a shy smile.

“Well then,” he grinned, placing a small kiss to your knuckles, “I shall see you there, 8 pm sharp.”

As he left you on the couch, smiling and giggling to yourself, a simultaneously thrilling and terrifying idea suddenly raced through your mind. Wait, you thought. Did he just ask me out on a date? You supposed there was nothing left to do but wait and see.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You found yourself wishing you’d worn a heavier coat as you stepped out onto the roof in the cold night air, shivering in your lightweight clothes. You chose to wear your favorite top, which just so happened to be the same shade of green that Loki had claimed as his own over a millennium ago. It was purely coincidental, you told yourself; it definitely hadn’t become your favorite top when you noticed the way he looked at you when you wore it. That was preposterous, of course.

As you stepped into the greenhouse, you found that your choice of clothes wasn’t so terrible, after all. The glass room was temperature controlled and dimly lit. It was so warm, in fact, you wondered if you might have to take your hoodie off. You wouldn’t mind, of course. You’d be able to show off your shirt even more. You quickly shook your head before you got started on that train of thought again. It’s not like he specifically said it was a date, so you shouldn’t get too far ahead of yourself. Though, if anything was going to convince you this was one, it would be the romantic atmosphere, and the way Loki was sitting on a blanket with a picnic basket, pillows and fallen petals surrounding him.

“Darling,” he said upon spotting you. “There you are. Right on time.”

“Yup. I wouldn’t miss this for the world. But, uh, what exactly is this?”

“The Epiphyllum oxypetalum.”

“I’m sorry, what?” you asked, looking at him like he had six heads. You had been hoping his answer would be more along the lines of ‘this is a date’ or ‘we’re just hanging out’. But nope, he’s speaking Latin or something.

“Epiphyllum oxypetalum. More commonly known as the queen of the night,” he explained, patting the spot next to him on the blanket. “It is my favorite flower.”

You hesitated a second before going to sit beside him. “May I ask why?”

“You may, indeed,” he replied, eyes lighting up. “See, when I was younger—one hundred, maybe two hundred years old—my mother grew this flower in her garden, but I could never see it bloom. I would watch it all day, but then when I went to sleep and came back in the morning, I just found out more had wilted without ever having bloomed! It was infuriating. Well, I went to my mother about it, and she explained that it only bloomed once. At night. So, we stayed up all night to watch them. It was, in a word, magical. Something about the way they will only bare themselves to those patient enough to wait, to look carefully. I can not explain it, but it is wonderful.”

“I think I can explain it.” You looked at him with a soft gaze and took his hand, swiping your thumb over his knuckles. “The flower and you are kind of one and the same, don’t you think?”

“Perhaps.”

“Like the way you let yourself be true to who you are around me,” you continued. “It’s like the blooming thing. I think it’s sweet.”

“Well, of course you would. Somehow you seem to think I have never done any wrong,” he said, a nearly imperceptible tear rolling down his cheek. Nearly. You leaned in and kissed the wet drop away. He looked startled as you pulled back, and he held you an arms length away. “Darling.”

“Sorry,” you said, silently cursing yourself. “I hope that was alright. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or anything. I can go, if you want.”

“No, please do not mistake this as me wanting you to leave,” he quickly pleaded. “I want you closer, even. It is just that you compare me to this flower, though it is beautiful. But me? I am a monster.”

“Hey, it’s ok. You’re not. Look at me? Please?” you asked, cupping his cheek as he stared at the ground. “You are not, I repeat, are not a monster. Loki, you are good, kind. Those who have hurt you do not dictate who you are. I love you, Loki, and I don’t think I could love a monster.”

His face said nothing, but a million thoughts flashed behind his eyes. You? Love him? By all accounts, it made no sense. Could he be dreaming? He must be.

“You should not love me. I do not deserve it. What if I hurt you?”

“Well, I’m surprisingly resilient,” you joked, trying to cheer him up. “But that doesn’t matter because you’re not going to hurt me. So whether I should or should not—and really, who’s to say?—I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you. I love you a thousand times, to the moon and back. With all my heart, every fiber of my being. I love you.”

Loki didn’t even think, he just kissed you. He kissed you so deeply, so passionately, you forgot everything else you ever knew. It was just him now, in this moment. His scent, his touch, his lips. Him. Perfect and loving and gentle and tender. Neither of you moved, besides to wrap your arms around each other, to hold each other even closer, to deepen the kiss even more. Other than that, you just sat there, lips locked, affirming everything your words said and didn’t say. Nothing else mattered. Just him, king of the night. King of your heart.

“I love you, too, darling,” he said. He had pulled away just enough to speak what was on his mind, and his lips brushed yours as he spoke. “I am still dangerous. I still fear I will hurt you, ruin you. But I cannot go on without you. If I am to allow myself one thing, it must be this. Oh darling, I love you as I never have anything or anyone before. No throne could compare, no crown could better. All the gold and riches in the Nine Realms could not even dream of competing with your kiss, your embrace. I love you so wholly and completely, I do not know how I ever lived without you.”

“Loki,” you whispered. He was looking in your eyes so intently it made goosebumps erupt on your skin. “You’re more beautiful than every flower, more precious than their delicate petals. I don’t think words will ever be enough to tell you how I feel.”

“I agree, words will never suffice.”

He kissed you again, trying to express everything he didn’t know how to say, everything he didn’t understand about how this could be real. And you responded, reassuring him that it was real, that he did deserve it. That what you felt for him in this moment would never go away. It would only get more intense, more powerful. Loki wasn’t sure what magic you were working exactly, but he started to believe. He supposed that was just the power of love.

Eventually, you broke apart and laid down next to each other. You chatted a little, but fell into periods where you just held each other. The picnic basket he’d brought was filled with your favorite foods, and you snacked on them a bit, holding small bites to the other’s lips. You watched the flowers, too. A few of them bloomed as you looked on, and it brought a smile to your lips. The smile that bloomed on Loki’s face was even more breathtaking than the opening petals, in your opinion.

“Loki,” you said, and he turned to look at you, gently caressing your cheek. “Thank you so much for sharing this with me.”

“Of course, darling. It is like I said,” he replied, a light, happy sound in the tone of his voice. “I love you. I am glad you like it.”

“And like I said, I love you, too. I really do like it. It’s beautiful, just like you.”

Again, the two of you met in a kiss. Whether or not he had intended for this to be a date, it had sure turned into one. And something more, too. A new beginning, a perfect start to something that would last long beyond just one night. You’d planted the flower of your love, and you knew its petals wouldn’t wilt in the light of day; they’d last forever.

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ezekielbhandarivalleros · 3 years ago

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Scaredy Cat and the not-so Haunted House

Characters: Ajay Bhandri, Dylan Hayes (MC), Layla “Leah” Hayes (Sister), Skye Crandall and Rory Silva

Summary: The Gang go to a haunted house at a local fair

Taglist: @secretaryunpaid @aussieez @daddytyrilstarfury @cts-tj1 @choicesficwriterscreations @hss-fanfics

Rating - General (Everyone can Read)

"If you think that you can scare me, you've got another thing coming," Ajay muttered under his breath as he began wonder yet again why he had agreed to go to a haunted house with Dylan.

Ajay knew that he would live to regret his choice, but after the scare with the Cyber Killer this week he could not seem to able to refuse his own boyfriend. He knew he wasn't the only one roped into going as Leah had both agreed to go. Rory had wiggled his way out of it probably with a promise of unlimited hugs for the rest of Dylan’s future career.

"Leah, Dylan just remember as long as you don't touch the people in the haunted house they can't touch you. Last year, I went this haunted house where if you made it through the haunted house they gave like a hundred dollar prize. They could touch you in that one and you had to sign a waiver saying you were not going to sue the haunted house if got hurt. Goblin's Revenge is pretty tame, but if you touch the actors they can touch you." Ajay said all of this quickly in a very giddy way.

"Oh great," Dylan thought, "I better make sure lee-lah doesn't have any weapons on her because I have a feeling when Leah gets scared people are gonna get hurt. Hopefully if she doesn't have any weapons on her the results will be less fatal. OR NOT! I can't believe I let Ajay talk me into doing this even though it was my idea at first!"

"Uh, Leah, do you have any weapons with you?" Ajay asked with the knowledge that if Leah was without weapons than he was winning the award for Least Annoying with Movie References.

"Of course I do, Ajay. What kind of Mossad officer and NCIS agent would I be without them," Leah smiled as she said this with a hint of laughter in her voice.

"Um… How can I put this delicately, Leah? YOU CANNOT BE ARMED IN THE HAUNTED HOUSE! We wouldn't want you to shoot or stab anyone if you get spooked. No paperclips either." Ajay said and winced as if expecting some sort of retaliation from Leah for even suggesting she be unarmed.

"Ok," Leah replied stunning the entire group into silence not even a breath was heard for a full minute.

"Why don't you put all your weapons in the trunk of my Blazer, Ajay?" Ajay was the first to recover from Leah's astonishing reply.

All of them had come over in Dylan's parents Blazer as Ajay's car was in the shop and the Blazer was roomy enough to accommodate the Three of them easily. Leah began pulling out knives from everyplace imaginable and she had two guns hidden on her person as well. Ajay placed the weapons in a compartment under the carpet of the trunk and locked the Blazer.

He felt an urge to suggest patting Leah down to make sure that all of her weapons were accounted for, but for once his survival instinct took over before he could voice that opinion. Deciding that he should just stay between Leah and the haunted house actors to insure of all of their safety seemed to quiet all of his worries.

The entire time Ajay had been thinking, the group had made their way through to the admissions windows and paid for their bracelets so they could enter and leave the house as many times as they wanted until midnight. The bracelets were bright orange and took on a neon glow when entering the haunted house allowing the workers guarding the doors to be able to easily tell who was supposed to be there and whose was not without disturbing the patrons.

"Sweet, they're playing the Sixth Sense on the TVs while you go through the house," Dylan exclaimed then added in scared almost girly whisper, "I see dead people."

The rest of the group rolled their eyes as they started walking through the maze. Dylan was on the lookout for hidden compartment and decided that it seemed that it would most likely for the actors to pop out from the inner wall of the maze. He took up his position at Leah's right unfortunately the maze was not made for two people to stand side by side.

He tried to walk sideways, but only succeeded in making himself look like an idiot as he tripped over one of the prop skeletons legs that were placed at random intervals throughout the maze's walkways. He then decided to walk in front of Leah hoping to warn the actors of their impending doom if they made Leah mad or scared.

A bloodcurdling scream filled the maze as Ajay was frightened by Skye popping out of the floor in front of him followed by a squeak of pain as Ajay had stepped on Dylan's foot and then stumbled back causing him to lose his balance and follow on his butt with Ajay landing on top of him.

Skye began laughing her head off at the sight as she began to tease Ajay mercilessly, "McKlutz maybe Dylan should walk in front of you so we can be sure that he doesn't get squashed to death by YOU!"

Skye already slipped back through the trapdoor to prepare to scare the next group that came through the corridor while Leah helped her brother up whom seemed to find the entire situation hilarious, "Dylan, I think that you are probably one of the only people who made Skye laugh!"

"Leah, Dylan are you okay since everyone seems to be only occupied with my lack of coordination?" Ajay questioned as he helped her to her black booted feet.

"I'm okay. Really, Ajay," Dylan and Leah Both said reassuringly.

Ajay seemed to notice that Rory had not made a single comment on the entire situation when he turned around to comment on this to utter surprise he found that Rory was nowhere to be found.

"Guys, Rory's gone, he was here with us at the start but since then I haven’t seen him!" Dylan said as he looking back and forth down the hallway hoping he would suddenly appear like a crazy ninja.

"He probably leaned against the wall and went through one of the revolving walls. There is one right behind you." Leah stated calmly as Dylan started to look even more nervous.

"Dylan, I think he can handle a haunted house on her own. "Ajay said tickled by the frightened and very worried face of his boyfriend.

"Dylan, I'm not worried about Rory. I'm worried about what he might do after the people who scare he. Even without the knife your sister gave him at the start he's deadly and he reacts often with instinct which makes it more likely for himself faint or pass-out to only get hurt!" Dylan replied as he pushed against the wall to make it turn noticing Dylan and Leah sudden realization that Ajay might actually have a valid point.

As the wall revolved Dylan came face to face with a grinning Rory who was leaning on the wall a little left of the revolving wall so he would not get squashed by it.

"Dy, I have more self control then you think you realize. I haven't fainted yet and you drive me up the hall all the time." Rory said with a laugh, "I dropped the weapon your sis gave me so I would not be tempted to use them when scared."

Rory looked a little abashed by being found out.

The Twins were greeted with the sight of Ajay saying, "Rory, the saying is up the wall not the hall," and Ajay with look of annoyance at Rory's need to constantly correct his English when it was obvious what he was saying if it was exactly perfect English.

Not wanting to stay in the Haunted House, Rory and Dylan run out grabbing the photo of the gang from the booth racing of to a much safer and less scarier park ride

#hssca #Ajay Bhandari #playchoices #choices #skye crandall #rory silva

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doyumacy · 4 years ago

Text

FALLOUT |LH| EIGHT

*gif not mine

PAIRING: donghyuck x reader bodyguard!donghyuck

WARNINGS: mentions of jaemin taeyong and jeno. swearing, hospital, gunshot, angst, smut (oral sex f and m receiving), unprotected sex

WORD COUNT: 3,4K

Donghyuck looked up. Stared at himself in the mirror. It had been four days since the incident and you hadn't woken up yet.

That was when it set in, that’s when the tears started. Donghyuck gripped the sides of the sink and bowed his head low, chest shuddering with strained, quiet sobs. It was all coming back: the wetness of your blood on his hands, your pained whimpers, your 'I love you, I forgive you.'

He dreads to think that… that it may be the last time that you—

No. No. He couldn't — he couldn't think like that. You were alive, that was what matters. You would be awake soon and you would be fine and he was not going to torment himself thinking otherwise.

Deep breath. Deep breath. He straightened up, rubbed his nose and his eyes, blinked away the redness. He rejoined the rest where they had gathered. Taeyong and Jaemin stood against the wall, talking quietly between themselves; Jeno sitting on one of the chairs, texting someone. When they noticed his approach, all attention shifted to him.

"Uhm..." Taeyong called his attention. "They're gonna remove the vent since she's breathing on her own now."

Donghyuck nodded and sat next to Jeno. "Her mom is with her right now." Jaemin said.

“She’ll be okay,” Jeno whispered to him. "It's a good sign they removed the vent. She’ll be okay.”

You would be okay. Donghyuck reassured himself.

(.)

“Fuck.”

It wasn't the most graceful way to emerge from unconsciousness, you had to admit. Then again, emerging from unconsciousness in itself wasn't a graceful act. The lights were too bright and your mouth was too dry and you were somehow too warm and too hot at the same time — and don’t even get you started on the throbbing ache radiating throughout your chest, arms, and general upper-body area. It was hell.

Things started glitching out when you thought about how the hell you got there in the first place — you remember fighting Yuta, falling down the stairs and seeing Donghyuck's face, or was it a dream? You could guess what happened next.

“Hello to you too,” a voice said — not just a voice, your mind corrected you. Donghyuck, and immediately you’re seeking him out, trying to push yourself up. “Easy, easy.”

He came into view, hovering above you. One hand gently pressed down on your stomach, forcing you back down. He tried a smile — it’s more of a wince, really, especially when he was frowning like that. “You shouldn’t be sitting up yet. You’ve been out for five days.”

“Noted.” You grimaced. The pain in your torso wasn't exactly the type that you can just push through, so you don’t doubt it. “Yuta…?”

“Dead. Gunshot wound.” His eyes drifted to the general area where your own gunshot wound was, pulsing and throbbing with pain beneath the bandages and hospital gown. “Any pain? Need me to call a doctor?”

“No. No, I’m fine. I mean, as fine as… you know…,” A beat of silence, and you casted a glance around the room noticing the bunch of flower bouquets pretty much everywhere. “Taeyong or Jaemin?”

"Both of them actually," Donghyuck said.

You tried to giggle but it was too painful. You sighed. "Where are they?"

"I told them to go back to get some rest and clean up.” It was only then that he sat back down, pulling his chair closer to your bedside. You watched with timid eyes as he ran a hand over his face. He hasn't slept.

“You look tired, sweetie,” you said quietly. “You haven't been taking care of yourself, have you?”

“You were shot in the chest,” he was quick to interrupt, voice steady and stoic as usual, his eyes narrowing defensively, “You were in surgery for four hours, unconscious for five days. I was worried.”

“I’m fine.”

“You almost weren’t, (Y/N).” There was a tremble in his voice that made your heart plummeted. "You're here because of me. I know I shouldn't even be here but I couldn't leave you knowing Yuta wanted to kill you. I love you."

"I'm sorry," he murmured and held your hand carefully, "I'm so sorry. I never expected to fall for you. You got me. I love you, (Y/N). I don't expect you to forgive me, but if, for some reason you do I hope you know I love you deeply and I would never hurt you."

“Hyuck,” you muttered softly, intertwining your fingers with his. The warmth of him dimed the pain for a second, and you took a deep, steadying breath. “I told you I forgive you. You came back for me and I cannot assure you I’ll never get hurt, okay? And neither can you..."

You sighed. "You hurt me yes, and I'm still shocked by what you... do, but I love you, too."

Donghyuck was suddenly crying and sniffling and you sat trying to not hurt yourself and cupped his face in your free hand. "Hey, look at me. Baby, look at me," having you to guide his eyes towards you instead of around the room. “This wasn’t your fault, do you hear me? He’s gone, and you’re not. You’re here, and he’s not. I love you."

He clasped his hands over yours, bottom lip trembling, “(Y/N), I’m so sorry."

"If you keep apologizing I will throw you out of this room, Lee Donghyuck," you stared at him and he giggled and then placed a kiss on your hands.

Donghyuck sighed and then frowned. "There's still one thing I need to do."

(.)

“No way in hell!” You stared at Donghyuck and tried to stand up from his bed.

You had been discharged from the hospital 3 days ago and you still had to rest since you not only got shot but had one broken rib, a minor contusion and some bruises all over your body.

Donghyuck pressed down on your stomach with his hand gently, forcing you back down. You grunted at him and you grabbed his arm. “Promise me you wont do such a stupid thing.” You looked him in the eye.

Donghyuck sighed. “I have to do it, (Y/N). I need to turn myself in to the police.”

You closed your eyes trying to stop the tears that were forming in your eyes. “I don’t care about your past, I only care about your future.”

Donghyuck sat next to you and cupped your face in his hands. “Look at me,” he asked you and you kept your eyes closed. “(Y/N), look at me,” he asked you again and you opened them, looking him in the eye. “You deserve someone better.”

“Bullshit,” you hissed and removed his hands from your face. “I don’t want anyone else. Listen to me, Lee Donghyuck, I forgave you once but I will not forgive you if you leave me.”

“Are you threatening me?” Donghyuck raised an eyebrow looking at you.

"I'm warning you, love," you smirked at him.

Donghyuck chuckled and nodded, placing a kiss on your hand. "Okay."

"Kiss me," you demanded.

Donghyuck caressed your cheek with one hand, eyes locked to your lips before he moved it down to your left collarbone tracing some circles on your skin.

You sighed. His touch was electric, sending shivers down your spine. Tilting your head by framing your chin with his lean fingers, he brought his lips to yours, lightly at first but scorchingly deep and dominant once he received your confirmation. As if you were untied from the knot that was holding you back, you succumbed desperately to his touch, fingers fisting against the fabric of his collar, and focusing to keep up with every movement of his lips.

He pulled away before you were even the least satisfied, hooded eyes gleaming under the dim lighting. You whined and he smiled. "What was that about?"

"I wanna keep kissing you," you growled.

"I know so well, baby. You will want more than just a keep and you can't make any rough movements," Donghyuck winked at you.

"Hey!" You laughed and pushed him. "That's not true. I do know how to hold it."

Donghyuck pecked you and beamed at you. "Get some rest, love."

"I will, but you owe me this one," you tightened his thigh.

"Deal," Donghyuck smiled and stood up. "I'll be outside if you need me okay?"

You nodded.

Donghyuck got out of his room and closed the door behind him swiftly. He went to the kitchen where Jeno was talking on the phone and eyed him. Jeno nodded. “I will, thanks. Bye.” Jeno hung up and placed his phone on the counter. “Did you tell her?”

Donghyuck nodded with his head and leaned against the kitchen sink. Jeno sighed. “Oh man, I hate this. I didn’t want to do this right now but I have no choice.”

Donghyuck frowned and looked at him. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m not an accountant,” Jeno revealed. “I work for the NIS.”

Donghyuck’s mouth was opened wide. “You what?”

“I'm an agent working for NIS,” Jeno confessed. “When I met you I didn't know what you did but then everything kinda fell into place, you know? Then we got a suspect profile and I knew it was you.”

“We’ve known each other for 5 years,” Donghyuck looked at him.

“And a year ago I knew it was you,” Jeno sighed. “But you are my friend and you stood by my side during the worst time of my life."

"So..." He tapped the back of his nape. "I told the NIS you were working with me. I got them every information they needed: pictures, text messages, emails... everything."

"Hold on," Donghyuck shook his head, "You're helping me?"

Jeno nodded. "(Y/N)'s father is going to jail thanks to you, somehow. So, you'll have to go to court and listen to the judge's verdict."

"I'm going to jail anyways," Donghyuck sighed.

"Or not," Jeno shrugged. "They might put you in house arrest for months."

"(Y/N) is gonna freak out," Donghyuck panted.

“Nothing beats you being an assassin,” Jeno teased and Donghyuck glared at him. “Too soon?”

“Yeah.”

Jeno stared at the floor for a minute and then looked at Donghyuck. “Just, don’t try to run away, okay? I got you.”

“Why would you think I’m gonna run away?” Donghyuck laughed. “I want to do the right thing for the first time, Jeno. I won’t.”

Jeno nodded. “Great, because otherwise I will beat your ass.”

Donghyuck rolled his eyes. “You could never.”

“Wanna bet?” Jeno raised an eyebrow.

“You’re so annoying, god,” Donghyuck snorted.

Jeno chuckled and then cleared his throat. “I think you should contact a lawyer, just in case.”

“Oh, Jaemin got me one already,” Donghyuck said. “I’m seeing him tomorrow morning.”

Donghyuck bit his lip and then frowned. “Is there a chance you could give me a few days?”

“I can’t promise it, but I’ll see what I can do,” Jeno shook his head.

“Thanks, bud.”

(.)

"(Y/N)?" Donghyuck called in a soft voice, careful not to wake you up. It had been 2 weeks since the incident and you were back home and trying to go back to your regular life.

To his surprise, you called from the kitchen where you were currently doing the dishes. "Hello." He greeted once he found you, giving her a kiss on the cheek. "Why are you still up?" he asked and noticed the time on the wall, 12:30 am.

You finished the plates and then turned to him, "I finished my paperwork late and I couldn't sleep," you said as you watched him remove his wristwatch and set it on the table, and then he untied his tie and unbuttoned his shirt. That gesture made him so hot that you bit her lip, wanting to pounce at him. You gulped when he glanced at you, knowing full well that he caught you checking him out. "You went to the lawyer's?" you asked and he nodded, sitting down.

You went behind him, holding his shoulders and giving them a light squeeze that made him visibly relax. "Did you eat? I'll just heat up something."

Donghyuck held your right hand situated on his shoulder as he shook his head. "I had dinner," he claimed. "Coffee will be great." And you smiled, moving across the kitchen to get the coffee maker and prepare him the drink. The sudden loss of your physical touch made him sigh, maybe it's not coffee that he wanted.

He was admiring you backside while doing the coffee, your beautiful hair, your waist, and sexy hips. Even your legs looked great on the shorts you were wearing.

You were surprised when you felt Donghyuck's presence behind you, arms wrapped on your body. You hummed when he gave you a back hug, head nuzzling on the crook of your neck. Donghyuck gave you a kiss on the neck that made you giggle. "I have a meeting tomorrow, if anyone sees a hickey they're gonna be so confused." And Donghyuck chuckled.

His hands found themselves on the spot that he liked the most, giving it a little squeeze that made you chuckle. "No hickeys. Got it," he whispered as he put kisses on your exposed neck, kneading her breasts. You just smiled at how needy Donghyuck was being, liking how he massaged your boobs and played with the protruding nipples.

"Do you feel better?" He inquired, still kissing your neck.

"Now you ask?" You laughed as you turned and removed his suit, letting it drop on the floor.

Donghyuck chuckled and traced his finger on your lower lip. "I had to make sure."

"I'm okay," You kissed him.

"So..." You started with a lot of mischief in your voice, fingers undoing the buttons of his dress shirt. "I was thinking that, since you can't give me a hickey, I'll give you one instead," you claimed then sucked Donghyuck's chest, making him groan. You licked the spot and gave it a kiss before admiring the red spot you created in contrast to his skin. "I've come to the realisation, one isn't enough." And you started sucking spots on his chest, putting color on his golden skin.

"Oh God, (Y/N)," he called when you bent down to give his stomach marks as well.

You knelt down and it surprised him when you removed his pants, putting down his boxers that was a pool under him now. "Baby," he called and you shushed him while fisting his growing member. Donghyuck closed his eyes shut when you licked the side of his cock, biting his lip to prevent a series of groans to emerge.

You gave the tip a lick, kissing it as it oozes precum. "Baby." he called once again, looking down on you. Damn, you looked so hot kneeling in front of him like that.

"Yes, baby?" You smiled at him.

"Don't tease," Donghyuck warned you.

You winked at him before doing the deed.

Your mouth was really hot or maybe because his cock was really sensitive but it felt so good that groans escaped his lips. You sucked his cock, playing with it inside your mouth and even fondling his balls. His hands reached for your hair, tugging it in a ponytail as he bobbed your head up and down on his cock. Donghyuck hissed, badly wishing his control wouldn't spill out, but with a mouth so good like this how can he not fuck your mouth?

"Baby, you're so fucking good." he complimented as the hold on hair got tighter. You swallowed his cock, deepthroating him that made him groan. "Oh God, (Y/N)." And that was it, his control going down the drain. He thrusts into your mouth with so much power that if not for his hold on your hair, you might bump your head on the counter. He kept on groaning as he fuck you mouth and felt himself cumming in no time. His cum filled your mouth, swallowing it.

When Donghyuck came back from his high, he gave you a mischievous smile as he grabbed your chin with two fingers. "Open up," you opened your mouth and he checked you had swallowed everything. "Good girl."

"I'm not done with you yet." You said and you kissed on the marks that you had done to his body.

Your lips were together once again as you struggled to get to your bedroom and you pushed him on the bed, removing your shirt and sitting on top of him. Donghyuck couldn't believe that he was already naked, yet here you were there, in your bra and shorts. "This is so unfair, you should get naked as well." He revolted which made you laugh.

You gave him a kiss and then bit the lower part of his lip. "But this is about you for the meantime. I want to make you feel good," you said then sucked a spot by his neck that made him groan. You started filling his skin with red patches that would obviously show in the next few days.

Your kisses went down until you reached his semi-hard cock and you placed a quick kiss on his tip. You took off your bra and Donghyuck held your breasts. "You're gorgeous. Shit."

He pushed you to the bed and his mouth kissed your stomach and you moaned. "Hyuck..." You called. "I want to make you feel good..." You whined but he didn't stop his adventure of going down until he was at the waistband of your shorts. "Fuck, Donghyuck." And you knew what would happen now that he was pulling down your shorts and underwear.

His tongue immediately licked your clit and you moaned, arching your back at the sensation. Damn, Lee Donghyuck and his fucking mouth. He parted your legs and started fucking you with his tongue, making you scream in pleasure. His thumb started circling your clit as he alternated the sucking and licking of your pussy. You could feel your soul being sucked by Donghyuck's mouth. And yes, that's how amazing he was. You came in no time, letting him suck everything.

He grinned while rubbing his mouth using the back of his hand and that gesture looked so sexy. "Oh, God. Fuck me," you exclaimed that made him smirk.

"Whatever you need, baby," Donghyuck mumbled while jerking his cock and positioning it on your entrance, making you nod. His cock sank inside you and he groaned at how tight you were. And the thought that it was only him fucking your pussy made the beast in him growl that instead of the usual gentle thrusts, he was jerking into you violently.

You could feel your body being thrown to bed with each thrust and his cock hitting you in the pleasure spot. With the way that he was going, you were sure you'd get so sore the next day.

"Donghyuck!" You shouted as one hand grabbed the sheets of your bed and the other scratched his back, wanting something to claw on. He was jerking into you real hard that you could hear his balls slamming against your skin.

"Yes, fuck baby." he cursed while jerking in you in such power and speed, driving both their orgasms. You came with a mind rippling orgasm and immediately felt him filling you up. What surprised you was when he didn't pull away after cumming in you.

"Fuck," you whispered, catching your breath. "I think you broke more ribs."

Donghyuck laughed, breathless and kissed your neck. "God, I'm sorry. Are you hurt?"

You shook your head and smiled at him. "That was amazing. Fuck, let's do it again."

"What about your meeting?" He asked, while kissing your chest.

"Fuck it," You moaned when he bit one of your lips.

"Get on all fours, baby," he whispered in your ear.

You knew it was going to be a long night.

#donghyuck imagine #donghyuck smut #donghyuck x reader #haechan imagine #haechan x reader #haechan smut #nct x reader #nct smut #nct 127 #nct haechan

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tact-and-impulse · 4 years ago

Text

Operating a day behind, but putting the ‘dark’ in ‘dark academia’ for this one, @shepherds-of-haven

pact

It must be in the wrong place, she decides, upon finding the volume in the middle of the chemistry section. This book is slimmer than everything else in this part of the stacks, and she inspects the dull burgundy cover for a title. There isn’t one, only an old-fashioned lock that’s coated in rust and rendered obsolete as she opens to the first page.

Her vision is immediately filled with blood-red script. Latin, but the structure is arranged unusually. A code of some sort? And once she realizes that, she can’t stop herself. She’s hit a block anyway, it would be a good diversion. Before long, she’s strolled back to the desk she’s claimed, setting aside her polymer models, fresh off the 3D printer. It’s already late, and the blessed silence allows her to concentrate. She hasn’t touched Latin since her undergrad studies, and she’ll have to find a dictionary to translate some of the vocabulary. From what she can tell, the book seems to be a religious text, for a rite of some kind...

A sting on her index finger, and she reflexively draws her hand away. It’s been a while since she’s had a paper cut, and she’s dripping on the last sentence, mixing with the ink. The book slips from her grasp, as she tries to stem the bleeding, but she never hears it land. Instead, there are the sounds of crackling flame, tearing parchment, and a deep inhale.

The book has disappeared, and in its place is a man, if she can call him that. His hair is the same color as the ink, his eyes glowing yellow. He’s barely wearing anything other than a cloth drape for his modesty and metallic chains wrapping over his skin. His hands are bound in front of him, crossed at the wrists. When his lips part in a sneer, his canines are sharpened to fine points. “What do you want?”

She blinks. “Ah. I must have fallen asleep.” For good measure, she squeezes her finger and the pain tells her otherwise.

“I can assure you, you are not dreaming.”

“So...are you a demon?” It’s the only other explanation she can think of, not that it’s supposed to be possible at all. She’s a chemical engineer; the occult is reserved for the cable TV shows she’s seen advertisements for.

“Correct.” He looms over her, the chains jingling.

“And I released you, apparently.” She tilts her head. “Do you have a name?”

“Croelle. Now then, what do you desire?” This close, he’s radiating warmth, like a space heater.

“For starters, help me with my thesis.”

His flawless features show a hint of confusion. “...Your what?”

“It’s a project I need to finish next week. I’m having a hard time with it. Aren’t you a powerful demon?”

He also doesn’t like loaded questions, because he regards her with scorn. “I have been locked in that book for centuries.”

Clicking her tongue, she turns back to her polymer models. “Then, do whatever you want. Perhaps, you’ll catch up on the current time period before I figure out what I’m doing.” She examines the plastic constructs, but she doesn’t hear him leave. She spares a peripheral glance and he’s still standing there, with a grimace.

“I cannot. I have yet to recover my strength.”

“Do you need more blood?” Her minor wound’s already clotted though.

He scoffs. “Blood was the mechanism to seal me, but it is not how I draw my power. I am an incubus.”

“Oh, so you need sex.” She bluntly says, and his expression wavers in surprise. “You are very attractive, but I’ve wasted enough time on you already and to be frank, stress has killed my libido as of late. I’m sure there are plenty of individuals who can help you. It’s winter now, but with those chains, you look like you appeal to a certain demographic. You won’t have any trouble propositioning anyone.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You’re a curious scholar.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment, Croelle.”

“But you have not accounted for one thing. Your own blood undid the seal, so if I attempt to leave your proximity...” He takes a few steps, but he can only manage to the end of the aisle, before a severe headache pounds the inside of her head. It seems to have a similar effect, as he walks back, his voice a growl. “Like it or not, we are bound to each other.”

“For how long?” She demands.

“Until I recover.”

“When I thought the book was a puzzle, I didn’t anticipate this. Alright, let’s try something.” She pulls one of the chains, and the rest of him follows.

His yellow eyes narrow. “What are you doing?”

“Doing what I love. Testing a hypothesis.” She presses her mouth to his, which is softer than she expected. It only takes a second for him to begin reciprocating, and an unknown number for her to remember to breathe. Abruptly, she breaks it off, heartbeat in her throat. “Is that enough?”

He runs his tongue over his canines, savoring what he can taste. “A first kiss? You are curious.” Then, he moves his hands, which are now free. One chain unlocked, many more to go.

“You’re welcome.” Her lips feel swollen, and she resists the urge to touch them. “How are you feeling?”

“Much better. In fact, I would like to offer an exchange.” He taps her forehead, and it’s like she downed five espresso shots. She’s awake, alert, and...she can see the reaction in her mind. Her hands desperately find her pen and paper, as she scribbles it all down. As the high fades, she stares at her handwriting. It makes sense. She knows where to go from here.

When she finally reaches a pause and rests her cramping hand, she muses. “So, if I keep kissing you, you’ll recover your power. I can work with that.”

“Agreed. However, in return, when you are finished with this project,” He grabs her chin, forcing her to look at him. “I get to have you.”

A thrill shoots through her. Oh, so her libido isn’t totally dead. She swallows. “Only if I graduate, or else, this will have been for nothing.”

“Then, do we have a deal?”

“Yes.” And she intends to be confident, but at his wide grin, she wonders whether this is fair.

#shepherds of haven #shepherds of summer 2021 #anyway time for bed i'm also under stress

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demoiselledefortune · 4 years ago

Text

Post canon sangcheng fic recs for @runespoor7

(wooohoo that’s only 25 fics haha)

Silence by inberin

https://archiveofourown.org/works/17441771

a conversation in the snow.

Wonderfully nuanced characterisation. It hints at whole relationship and dynamic with a lot of delicacy.

Windrose by offlight

https://archiveofourown.org/works/18997546

Nie Huaisang is forced into a coma to stop his qi deviation. Jiang Cheng is tasked with waking him up.

There’s a lot of intriguing dreamscapes in this one, and I love Jiang Cheng (and in the background Wei Wuxian)’s desperation and obstinacy.

All the innocence we give by shamiran

https://archiveofourown.org/works/18864910

Learning to renavigate the ground between them is easier than Nie HuaiSang expects. It's also harder than he could have imagined.

Just a sweet story.

Taste the wine off your lips by ExNihiIo

https://archiveofourown.org/works/20129245

A light pat lands against his back, and a cup of water is pushed in front of his face. “Not even Zi Shi, and you’re already tipsy?,” asks a teasing voice, while a thin hand puts down the cup. Jiang Cheng coughs a little more, shaking his head, and sends a dirty look at his host. “I am not tipsy.” “Hm, and yet your cheeks are all red. What would your disciples think, if they saw you in this state?” “They’d think about running away while they can. I can break legs more easily than I can drink alcohol.” A smile curves the edges of Nie Huaisang’s mouth, and he closes his fan with a curt jerk, sitting across the table. He’s wearing lighter clothes, Jiang Cheng notices, compared to the ones he had during the Discussion Conference. Where those had been tight and rigid against his body, these now fall softly on him, the large sleeves sweeping delicately as Nie Huaisang moves to pour himself a cup.

I like the melancholy tone of this one.

The light of autumn: you will not be spared by crooows

https://archiveofourown.org/works/19901467/chapters/47138221

Nie Huaisang arrives a week early for the conference which will be held in Yunmeng to discuss the position of chief cultivator.

[Title is from a poem called "October" by Louise Glück!]

A bit funny, a bit melancholy

You can run but you can’t hide by ThirtySixSaveFiles

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21119297

Nie Huaisang has noticed something about the way Jiang Cheng takes compliments; Nie Huaisang has a theory, and he intends to test it out.

Just Huaisang figuring out Jiang Cheng has a praise kink. Established pairing.

Evening Bloom by dragonofeternal

https://archiveofourown.org/works/20958518

Jiang Cheng is spry and lithe well into his twilight years, living well off Wei Wuxian's stolen youth; Nie Huaisang's golden core, on the other hand, has always been poor- he blacks his hair with ink and dyes, hides the pudge of indolence and the wrinkles of age behind the latest fashions and the finest fans. Perhaps for their peers, finding the space to be vulnerable came easy, but for them it's taken this long to maybe think of letting someone in.

I have a big weakness for stories about old people falling in love and this is one delivers very sweetly.

Four Days in Lanling by Halotolerant

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21722695/chapters/51817036

Nie Huaisang looks at him. ‘You are confusing me, Clan Leader Jiang, perhaps I misunderstand, but…’

‘You didn’t misunderstand. You don’t misunderstand. You understand all of it.’ For six months Jiang Cheng has been mulling this over, and now with Nie Huaisang in front of him he can’t figure out if he most wants to knock him down or kneel at his feet. What he does is try and breathe. Clench his hands at his sides. ‘And now I am going to ask you to do something for me. You have to do something for me. You have to help Jin Ling.’

Ok so perhaps it’s misrepresentating to call this a post canon fic since most of the action is mid-13-years-of-WWX-death but the fairly important framing part is post canon. Also it’s one of the best sangcheng fic out there and a must read.

Shadow eternal by rynleaf

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23162944/chapters/55439032

“You want me to distract the Chief Cultivator from the Annual Cultivation Conference, so you and other sect leaders can… what. Sign contracts without adult supervision?”

“If Jiang-zongzhu is amenable,” Sect Leader Ouyang repeats with a nod.

Jiang Cheng pinches the bridge of his nose. The pressure he felt building behind his eyes all morning is swiftly coalescing into a bitch of a headache. “Just what do you all think I’m capable of?”

Sect Leader Ouyang bows with a cheerful smile. “We have utmost faith in Sandu Shengshou’s abilities.”

In which a night hunt ends in disaster, Jiang Cheng catches a glimpse of Nie Huaisang's heart, and feelings are discussed after a certain fashion.

One that’s between sweet and angsty.

The way is shut, and we cannot go back by saltedpin

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23592523

One month since Guanyin Temple, and some people are coping better than others (or not).

This one is a mostly sad and bitter take on Jiang Cheng reacting to Nie Huaisang’s plot (and being very drunk).

Living memory by ghosthouses

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24827980

Once Jin Guangyao has left, he gives himself two indulgences. The first, a day to scream in his rooms made soundproof with a talisman. The second, a physical list written in code, to keep his older self, who will have let the pain dull with time, accountable for what must be done.

It has only two commandments:

He will die.

and

He will know.

Nie Huaisang puts it in his sleeve with the intention of keeping it with him at all times, to be added to but never reduced, a living memory of his task.

This and its prequel which you should also read is quite short but probably one of my favorite depictions of their dynamic (and probably one I find most plausible).

What’s Left of us by cangse-sanren

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24979081

“Well,” Huaisang tries hesitantly, “both of us seem to have a rather fraught relationship with things like older brothers and the concept of betrayal. And regret,” he adds as an afterthought. "Perhaps you just understand me more than most."

Yet another that dwells into Jiang Cheng reacting to Nie Huaisang’s plan. I really like that take although it’s barely shippy (and quite short).

Descending by lightningwaltz

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25296595

“I want to… to not be embarrassed.”

“To not be embarrassed during what?”

“During sex.” There. Jiang Cheng can say it. “In general. Also with you right now.”

“Very good.”

“When did you become so authoritative?” Jiang Cheng wants to sound irked, but can’t quite manage anything beyond nervous curiosity.

Very interesting fic and in many ways unusual. I’d say it’s hypnosis kink, but it’s much more character driven than that. With a context of established FWB arrangement between Jiang Cheng and Nie Huaisang.

Tell him that I miss our little talks by xiaolongbaobei

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25232023

the post-canon fic where Jiang Cheng becomes the Chief Cultivator, realizes that it's not too late to fall in love and learns to ask for what he wants

Longish fic exploring Jiang Cheng as Chief cultivator working with Nie Huaisang and slowly falling in love with him. I adore this one, and not only because I love fics that explore the idea of Jiang Cheng as chief cultivator.

Blind for Love by manamune

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25760272

Jiang Cheng is poisoned with an aphrodisiac and needs to orgasm repeatedly in order to flush it from his system.

The first person he thinks of going to for help is Nie Huaisang, who does what any good friend would do: he shoves his three decades worth of feelings for Jiang Cheng deep into the recesses of his mind, locks them up so he can pretend they don’t exist, and then fucks him so hard that he passes out.

Mostly a long smutty piece, but with a lot of fun character bits along the way.

A Tight-Knit Family by aldalin

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25500481/chapters/61862899

“Jing Ling, we need to talk.”

Jin Ling has too many uncles, and he’s about to get another.

Sect Leader Jiang announces his marriage to Sect Leader Nie.

A fairly different take, more focused on Jin Ling and Wei Wuxian reacting to Jiang Cheng and Nie Huaisang’s relationship.

A trip to Qinghe by Scorpiwriting

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26974741

An unexpected hunt forces Jiang Cheng to leave the Lotus Pier a bit earlier than he had anticipated, so he decides to send Jin Ling to Qinghe, for the sake of not sending him back to Lanling so soon: it turns into a learning experience for the young sect leader, who gets to peek into the life of the Headshaker.

or.

Jin Ling learns that not everything people say is true and that perhaps there is some merit to art. He also learns that loneliness is a dark beast and that his uncle should definitely do something about it.

Another one more focused on Jin Ling’s reaction to it. Honestly more of a gen piece about Jin Ling and Nie Huaisang, but an interesting one.

Silver bracelets on their wrists by mercurious

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25797715

“Can’t I find excuses to visit an old friend?”

Ok so this one is a bit fucked up in interesting ways. It combines Chief Cultivator Jiang Cheng and explicit longing about Wei Wuxian, and BDSM as catharsis. It’s a fascinating piece.

Welcome to love by amphigoric

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22412866/chapters/53549794

Desire, Jiang Cheng learned, flourished even in love’s absence. It surged hot and fast through his veins at the sight of Nie Huaisang’s spread thighs, marks still lingering from the last rendezvous they had. He felt it burning through his chest as Huaisang raked lines down his back, breaths coming in short, desperate gasps: “Jiang Wanyin, Jiang Wanyin, please, please.”

It’s a little bit clumsy at times, but also very passionate and intense in a way I still find compelling. Featuring a lot of self sabotaging Jiang Cheng.

When your stitch comes loose by heyninja

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27868454/chapters/68234434

Sometimes people see you for who you really are. Sometimes because you let them. Sometimes whether you like it or not.

A triptych of collisions between Nie Huaisang and Jiang Cheng.

Only the last part is post canon but it’s the most important part, isn’t it?

Peel your heart like a pomegranate by Izumi_silverleaf

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29458974

"It's an extraordinary feeling when parts of your body are touched for the first time. I'm thinking of the sensations from sex and surgery."

Sometimes you just need to read a very hot guro fic. It’s a weird fic but it’s a cool one.

If you give a Nie a cushion by LesbianLazerOwl

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29470236

Prompt: Long enough After Canon that everyone's mostly okay these days, Jiang Cheng and Nie Huaisang get drunk and wind up comparing masturbation habits; each is aghast at how the other spends their personal time.

Funny and hot

To Distraction by isozyme

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27763816

It’s the third night of Yunmeng’s kite festival celebrations. Nie Huaisang has come visiting, eager to partake in the food, the arts, and Jiang Cheng.

Jiang Cheng wants to forget. Nie Huaisang has some new lube and wants to see if he can put his whole fist in somebody’s ass.

Established pairing in which Nie Huaisang fists Jiang Cheng. It’s hot.

Safe in Your arms by Dragon_scribe

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30070503/chapters/74058315

In the aftermath of a night hunt gone (very) wrong, Jiang Cheng wakes up to find himself in the Unclean Realm. As he recovers from his injuries, he and Nie Huaisang grow closer and as time passes, their friendship begins to shift to something more.

Very sweet/sappy and hurt/comfort orientated, with a small bit of reconciliation dimension too.

#mo dao zu shi #sangcheng #jiang cheng #nie huaisang #fic recs

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belit0 · 4 years ago

Text

Sibling Issues

Chap 2

Rating: E

Pairing: [Uchiha Madara / Uchiha Izuna / Fem Reader]

TW: nope

[DON'T HATE ME OMG THIS HAS BEEN ON MY MIND AND I HAD TO WRITE IT laufuekwslak]

Madara has always been perverse with his punishments, profoundly enjoying the sight of you suffering in front of his eyes, witnessing your despair to an almost maddening extent. It is not as if you had something to complain about, being tied up and over-stimulated to the limit of frustration by a man like him seemed like a dream, and every time you felt his expert fingers wandering through the scars he created in your skin, you wondered if your relationship with the Uchiha was not purely a charming fantasy.

That's how you felt at that moment, imprisoned in bed, naked and bound by hands and legs. With your limbs forced to stay apart by ropes, it is your man who watches you from his intimidating height, standing in front of you, rejoicing in your humiliation.

Gagged with your panties, you cannot speak or beg for mercy, for knowing him, you know that something heavy is coming, even considering the torture he has been inflicting on you for the past thirty minutes. How did you end up in this situation? You refused to accompany him to his meeting with Hashirama this morning, as the previous night was filled with passion and rudeness on his part, and you really needed to sleep. Of course he did not take your disobedience well, and no opportunity escapes Madara to punish you when you are a bad girl.

Crossed arms in front of the bed, wearing a black turtleneck shirt, with his hair pulled up in a ponytail and ready to leave again, he observes you with malice. In one of his hands, a black vibrator is off, glowing with your fresh fluids because it has been recently removed from you. He's only wearing gloves on one of his hands, and it's the one he's not holding the object he's using to tease you.

"Now, [Y/N], I'd love to stay and play with that sweet, tight pussy of yours, but I've been summoned by the elders of the Clan to a private meeting. You have 10 seconds to cum, otherwise you will remain tied up until my return."

Flushed and on the verge of tears, you did your best in begging him to take you, as the constant stimulus he had been applying to you for the past half hour was too much, and you could no longer bear it. In fact, you weren't even sure you could concentrate enough to cum with the speed he was demanding.

The incoherence of your words, which were suffocated by the fabric of your underwear, and the drool that fell from your mouth because of the inability to close it completely, only made Madara laugh in front of you, sending even more heat to your lower body and a feeling of deep humiliation to the whole situation.

This man delights in throwing you low.

"Keep quiet, are we clear?"

Approaching your dripping cunt again, he turned on the vibrator, while slowly positioning himself between your legs. He travelled all over your skin with the moving object, rubbing all areas of your body and purposely avoiding your clitoris. Staring into your eyes, the devilish grin on his face was unable to wipe off his features, enjoying your helplessness and cravings, the need to feel pleasure and liberation once and for all.

When a tear escaped from one of your eyes, he decided he could give you what you finally deserved, and without warning, he directed the vibrator that was slowly massaging your nipples towards your pussy, pressing it directly on your sensitive pearl, watching you with expectant eyes.

Your back curved upwards, while you pressed your hips towards him, seeking even more support and contact with the object that would give you your long-awaited orgasm. Your eyes inevitably closed, and your mouth opened in an incredible way, making your underwear go even deeper into it.

“1… 2… 3…”

In the face of Madara's hasty account, you remembered with effort his warning, and made your greatest effort to direct your mind to the greatest point of pleasure, even without being able to move your legs or arms.

"4... 5... 6... such an obedient little whore..."

At the compliment of your man, the motivation you really needed appeared, and you could feel the much-awaited moment finally arrive.

“7… 8… 9…”

And before he could reach the end of the count, one of your best orgasms hit your senses, causing your whole body to shake and your limbs to seek compression against your figure, protecting your sensitive clitoris from the abusive prolonged sensation of the vibrator.

When he saw that you met his demand, he walked away from you and removed the object, took the panties from your mouth and gave you water to drink.

"Well done [Y/N], I expected nothing less from you... but I regret to inform you this is not enough."

"W-Wha-at?"

"You abandoned me all alone with Hashirama and his delusions of worldly friendship all morning. Did you think such a modest punishment would save you, doll?"

"Madara please!"

He took your jaw with his gloved hand, exerting a slight pressure to open your mouth, and pushed the same underwear back into your cavity. A muffled scream escaped your mouth in surprise, which the Uchiha easily silenced with a slap on your thigh.

Leaving you tied up, he turned on the vibrator again, and there you understood the worst was what you were about to face. He pushed the object deep inside you, wiped his fluid-soaked hand on a towel, arranged his clothes and put on the missing glove.

"I'll take my time; I expect to return and find you a mess."

You couldn't even think of an answer, as the pleasure and sensitivity your body was experiencing at the same time was too much to concentrate on anything else.

With a firm step and completely unconcerned with your condition, Madara disappeared out the door of the room, while his steps were heard increasingly faint in the corridor. A second later, the front door opened before closing again, leaving you alone in front of Uchiha's mansion.

Your figure twisted in bed, thanking every orgasm caused by the vibrator inside you and trying to cooperate with the over-stimulation, forcing the ropes that kept you tied up, trembling at every sensation and movement, your skin bristling and your eyes watering from such torture.

So abstracted were you in your world of self-indulgence that you did not hear the front door open and close again.

Nor did you hear the footsteps outside the room.

Nor did you hear the voice of a man who was not Madara asking if everything was okay.

Reality hit you again when your reddish eyes met those of Uchiha Izuna, who, for some reason unrelated to you, was at your house, at your bedroom door, witnessing the kinks you and your man shared.

"...I-I... I-I... shouldn't b-be here..."

As the Uchiha was about to leave, the vibrator touched a key point inside you, making you scream loud and deeply while another orgasm was released into your body. The muffled moans caught his attention, and the way your body contorted itself mesmerized him into an inexplicable spell.

Awakening from the enchantment of your figure, Izuna realized that his Sharingan had been activated, and that in his memory now lay engraved the intimate moment of you reaching your peak of pleasure. Ashamed of himself for even having such thoughts with his brother's partner, he walked over to the bed, and removed the garment that prevented you from speaking.

"I'm sorry [Y/N] I'll leave you alone and..."

"PLEASE IZUNA HELP ME."

Stupefied by his uselessness and feeling guilty about your clear suffering, the Uchiha tried to regain his composure and not let himself be carried away by the image in front of him.

"S-Sure! Just... just tell me what I have to do."

"UNTIE MY HANDS."

Obeying your demands, he quickly released your two wrists, having to lean slightly over you to untie the one at the other end of the bed. When you regained movement, something fierce took hold of your mind, and the fact of having another Uchiha in front of you, belonging to Madara's family, no less than his little brother, set your senses on fire even more.

Taking him by the hair with force, you made his face bend towards you, brutally bumping his lips against yours. Izuna found himself reluctant to reciprocate the kiss at first, but when your tongue slipped over his lips in hunger and need, his mouth opened without hesitation and devoured you with the same intensity.

Separating slightly and for a second, you managed to look him in the eye and tell him.

"Please fuck me Izuna."

"Shit, if you ask like that."

He quickly positioned himself between your legs, and rapidly Dropping your almost numb extremities on the mattress, you watched as he removed the vibrator from your interior, moaning at every centimeter of the object.

In the blink of an eye, his clothes lay forgotten somewhere in the room, and a hardened limb stood in front of your entrance. Aligning himself with you, his thrust was sharp and direct, penetrating you mercilessly.

He leaned over you, hiding his face in the hollow of your neck and biting into your skin, while your legs locked around his waist to feel him completely within you. Your hands became entangled in his hair, and soon you found yourself undoing his ponytail so you could pull his strands more easily.

His breaths became agitated, short and deep, arousing you even more, to the point where you thought it was no longer possible to receive stimulation. His muscles above you tensed with every movement of his hip, and with your tightened eyes, you breathed in his male scent with despair.

"I'm going to... ah... fuck you so well... shit... that you'll forget... his name... Kami... you're so tight [Y/N]"

"I-Izuna-a -gasp- I'm c-com-ming -gasp-"

Upon hearing your response, his thrusts took on a new speed, an almost overwhelming pace for your labored body, making you reach the last orgasm of the night with just a few moves. You felt his cum spread inside you, covering your walls with that warm liquid, and your mind was delighted with satisfaction.

Until you realized what had really happened.

And when Izuna came down from his orgasm, he couldn't help but feel less guilty than you.

"[Y/N]... what... what have we done..."

#uchiha madara x reader #uchiha izuna x reader #madara x reader #izuna x reader #uchiha madara #uchiha izuna #madara #izuna #x reader #madara x izuna x reader #naruto imagines #naruto shippuden #naruto x reader

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elen-aranel · 3 years ago

Text

Golden/Alone

The Engineer’s Adventures

1-1 • 1-2 • 2 • 3 • 4

For: @autumnleaves1991-blog Writer Wednesday. I am aware that today is Thursday; this was longer than I expected! Pairing: Captain Christopher Pike x F!Reader (no Y/N) Warnings: violence, references to violence, drug use (kind of), minor character death WC: 7.3k words Tag list: @jusvibbbin - to be added to my Pike x Reader Taglist please let me know <3 A/N: The Engineer is back! And why does she go on away missions? WHY? I genuinely had so much fun writing this. I hope you enjoy!

“If I were piloting, Number One, I would have flown us through the eye of that storm cell. We would have gotten here quicker,” Chris jokes to Number One as they unstrap themselves from the co-pilot and pilot’s seats, respectively.

“And that is precisely why I was flying and not you, Captain. We may have been slower, but I got us here in one piece.”

“Lieutenant, back me up here. My flying was great in that speeder on Eloma.”

“You kept us ahead of our pursuers, yes sir,” you say with a smile.

“And staying ahead of pursuers is not a valuable skill in an atmosphere like this one where we are not being pursued,” Number One states with some finality, as she presses the control to open the back of the shuttle and extend the ramp.

You are on Caylara, for what you hope will be a boring mission. The captain and Number One, along with security officer Ensign James, are here to open negotiations for Caylara to join the Federation.

You are here because of the atmosphere – it is notoriously difficult to traverse. You can’t transport living things through it, unless you want them to be merged, dead, or both, and even flying through it is a challenge because of the electrical storm layers. There are windows of time when it’s safer, when shuttles and communications can get through, and windows when they can’t.

At Louvier’s instruction you had prepared a shuttle (and a backup – you don’t like to take chances) to travel through the atmosphere. Standard procedure for Caylara was to have an engineer accompany the shuttle to perform any repairs needed on the ground. You had tried to argue your preparations were good enough that you wouldn’t be needed, but Chris had seen straight through you.

“You find diplomacy boring and you don’t want a repeat of Eloma. That’s what’s really going on here, isn’t it?” His mouth had twisted into that smile you found irresistible, and even though you pouted, adopting your best puppy-dog expression, he had just laughed. “It’s all right. I won’t make you go to the reception. I won’t even make you wear your dress uniform. You can stay with the shuttle.”

You hang back as the captain and Ensign James pass you, Chris brushing his hand against yours as he passes. You smile a little, and get your tricorder out – you need to check to make sure the shuttle didn’t get damaged and will be all right to make the return trip. You look down the ramp as you scan, seeing the Caylarans for the first time as their delegation greets the away team.

They are very tall. You estimate the shortest is well over two metres and they tower above the away team, even over Ensign James who is tall for a human. But given the slightly lower gravity of Caylara their height isn’t surprising, you think. They have skin varying from very pale through to olive toned. Their faces are smooth but they have scales around their hairline extending down to the rest of their bodies. Well, their hands, at least. They are wearing long robes.

Your tricorder beeps as the away team starts to move away; there seems to be a charge buildup in one of the EPS controllers, but that’s all and it’s an easy fix. You pop the relevant panel and discharge it, without shocking yourself for once, and replace the panel.

Then there’s nothing left to do but wait. The reception is due to last two, perhaps three hours – short enough that you’ll be able to make your return trip through the atmosphere with time to spare before the current window closes.

You’ve brought some reading, of course, but first you want to get to the bottom of why the EPS controller picked up a charge. You take it as a personal insult, really – you were sure you had accounted for everything from the data you were given to prepare. However, when you compare the preliminary data with the scans the shuttle took as it went through the atmosphere you can clearly see the discrepancies. You’re puzzled for a moment – but of course you had enhanced the sensors to the latest specs when you adapted the shuttle, and you don’t know how old the original readings you were working with were. You almost wish Chris had piloted you through the storm cell; then you would have more data to work with.

You busy yourself combining the shuttle’s readings with your existing model, and calculating how much it was off by. After some time you are pretty sure you’ve got to the bottom of where the charge came from, and you modify the shuttle so that it doesn’t happen again.

You also think you may be able to make predictions with your new model, and perhaps refine your timings for the atmospheric windows. The Caylarans know the timings pretty accurately, but you aren’t at the stage of sharing data on that level as yet.

You run a new set of scans, and frown – there’s only ninety minutes until the window closes. You compare with the original estimates and—

Hang on. When did it get so late? You were supposed to be on the way back by now.

“Shuttle Hubble to away team? Come in please?”

Silence.

“Shuttle Hubble to Captain Pike?”

More silence.

Silence when you try to call Number One and James, too.

“Enterprise to Hubble. Come in, please.”

“Shuttle Hubble here, Lieutenant Spock. I was just about to call you – I have lost contact with the rest of the away team. They should have been back here by now, but they aren’t.”

“I have also tried to contact the captain but to no avail. Three unknown craft have appeared in the system, and have locked weapons on to us and the planet. They are not responding to hails. I have placed the Enterprise on yellow alert and raised shields. We cannot get a sensor lock on individual life signs through the atmosphere, and—”

“They’re firing some sort of energy weapon!”

“Taking evasive action!”

“Lieutenant, I—” Spock sounds uncharacteristically strained as he’s interrupted by what sounds like an overloading console.

“I understand. I’ll look for them. I’ll keep you updated.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant. Enterprise out.”

That’s it, you think.

You’re on your own.

You take a deep breath: what do you need? Communicator. Tricorder. Emergency medkit.

Phaser.

You put the medkit in a backpack, and since there’s space you add a water bottle and some emergency rations. You clip the tricorder to a utility belt, and holster the phaser, set to stun. Your communicator goes in your pants pocket; you’ve got your usual tools in your jacket.

Then you remember your terrible luck with communicators, so you grab a spare and shove it in your backpack. That should do it. You can’t carry the kitchen sink and you don’t have time to keep second guessing yourself.

Okay. Plan: find the away team, bring them to safety.

You exit the shuttle and shut the ramp – you don’t need strangers damaging it.

You take in your surroundings next. The shuttle has landed in the grounds of a large building, elevated on a hill in the middle of a city. It’s only three or four storeys high, but quite wide, and you think it extends back a long way. There are decorative metal accents spaced at regular intervals – lightning conductors, you realise, as you head toward the most important looking doorway – you see burnt grass at their bases. This building isn’t tall, but it is the tallest around; the atmosphere must affect Caylaran architecture, you think.

There’s no one around, which surprises you; shouldn’t there be guards?

You push the door and it opens with a whisper. Inside is the most ornate room you have ever been in. The walls are gold coloured stone, there are dozens of columns in mottled golden marble, and there are decorations finished with real gold leaf everywhere. There are bronze statues and hundreds of warm coloured lights. The ceiling is as decorated as the walls, and the whole effect is beautiful. Imposing. Stunning. Overwhelming.

But again, no one is here. You get your tricorder out, but you can’t resolve anything. Perhaps something is blocking the scan? You look at the stairs. The steps are high, designed with Caylarans in mind, and go up before dividing. There are flights down, too. There are corridors to the left and right, and you have to take a moment to weigh all your options. The largest doors are ahead, though, up the main staircase and over. Perhaps that’s where you would take guests that you wanted to impress?

You think back to what you read on Caylara in your mission briefing as you climb the stairs. Their head of state is Crown Princess Nanren, but although the title remains the same, a princess many generations ago passed laws to end the hereditary monarchy. Now a new crown prince or princess is elected for life when the previous one dies, and you think they have an elected senate too.

Beyond that, you don’t really know anything, you think as you reach the top of the stairs. You cross the landing, trying to stay aware of your surroundings. And as you look down the stairs, you lock eyes with the first person you’ve seen.

A guard is sitting on the ground next to the doors. He’s armed, and the stairs in front of him show signs of having been fired on. But he’s slumped back, his green-blue swirled eyes staring up at you.

“Why’s it so dark? I can see you in the dark. Why did you bring the dark with you? You shouldn’t—” he tries to lift his weapon, and you draw your phaser, but his head lolls and he closes his eyes, dropping the weapon in front of him.

That was unsettling.

You proceed slowly down the stairs, but he doesn’t move again. You kick his weapon away and get your tricorder out. You’re not a medic, this isn’t a medical tricorder, and you don’t know much about Caylaran physiology, but you do have field medic training and you can see that something is terribly wrong. You scan him, and then the air. It seems like there are traces of a molecule around that your tricorder program flags up as having features in common with known hallucinogens. It didn’t flag up on your general scan so it’s probably dissipated enough that it won’t affect you, but still you wish you’d put on an EV suit. There’s no time to second guess yourself now, though.

You put the tricorder away in favour of the phaser, and you gently push the next door open.

If you thought the foyer was large, this room is even larger. It’s all gold again, and should be as beautiful, but it looks like there’s been a fight in here and furniture is in haphazard piles on the floor. It makes you think of playing forts with your cousins in your grandparents’ house as a child. You’re not a strategist but you can easily see that these piles aren’t much better than that – they provide barely any cover.

You pick your way over gilded chairs and past carved wooden tables inlaid with gold, keeping an eye out. About a quarter of the way into the room, under a table with two chairs on top you see a Caylaran. She looks young, wearing what looks like it could be a staff uniform – it’s a plain warm toned brown dress with an embroidered hem, far less fancy than the delegates who had welcomed the others of your team. She’s staring straight ahead, hugging her knees to her chest, rocking back and forth. She pays you no attention as you kneel down by her.

“What’s your name?” You ask, softly.

“My name is Lararen and I’m going to kill the queen, going to kill the queen, going to kill the queen. My name is Lararen and I’m going to kill the queen, then the Genai are going to kill me.”

She smiles broadly as she finishes her little song, still staring vacantly straight ahead, and you shudder. You shake her shoulder and she blinks, slowly, but she doesn’t move.

You straighten up, thoughtfully, wondering what the Genai are. Some sort of bogeyman, or an alien race? Not that it matters.

Next you find a pair of guards, asleep, holding hands. You move their weapons out of sight and continue through.

But then you find a dead Caylaran. He looks like someone important, but his red robe embroidered with a golden floral patten has a scorch mark right in the middle of his chest. You’re not sure if that killed him, because there’s a pool of blood beneath him too. Either way, you think as you close his grey-purple eyes, he probably didn’t deserve whatever it was. You take a moment to pay your respects before moving on.

You don’t find any more dead bodies in this room, but you find several more Caylarans, either sleeping or talking nonsense. One male asks you where your flowers are, and tries to give you some from a fallen flower arrangement, but most of the rest are just scared.

You think they probably have good cause, as you push another door open. You pick it because the largest number of guards were close to it, so you figure it probably leads somewhere important.

It leads on to a stair well, small but lavishly decorated with tapestries, depicting Caylarans standing in outdoor scenes, sometimes with animals you don’t recognise. They deaden the sound of your footsteps as you climb the tall stone stairs.

Then two things happen: you pause as you notice one of the hangings is moving a little at the bottom, as though in a breeze. And then you hear voices above you.

“She’s not up here,” says a female voice, annoyed. Lucid.

“Well she’s definitely not down there.” The second voice is male. Defensive. “I’ve got a message from Alara. She wants us to look again.”

“Fine. But I want it noted for the record that this is a waste of time,” the first voice says, sounding suddenly quieter – she’s probably passed through a doorway.

“Like anyone cares, Nerela,” the second voice says. You risk a peek up the stairwell. You don’t get a good look as the second person disappears through the door, but they are definitely not Caylaran – he has blue skin.

You lean against a tapestry. There are aliens here, separate from your away team. There are aliens in orbit, too. The odds are good that they’re the same species. And “she” must be the crown princess. But what are they planning?

Regardless, you still need to find your people. It’s been half an hour; you could get back to the shuttle faster if you went straight there, but there isn’t much time left in this window.

You eye the tapestry again. You’re definitely not going to follow the aliens, and this breeze must be coming from somewhere. You push it aside.

This door is the first plain thing you’ve seen in the building. It stands slightly ajar – hence the breeze – and it’s painted beige to match the stonework, but otherwise it’s featureless. It swings as quietly as all the other doors when you push it, but it has some kind of bolt on the other side. Interesting. You try to work it, but you can’t. You think of the tools in your jacket; you could probably figure it out, but no. There’s no time. You push the door to, making sure it’s as shut as it can be, and continue.

You must have entered the service part of the building, you think, as you walk along a corridor. This is functional and plain, like the door. You feel a little more comfortable here; if you’d been interested in fancy, you would have joined the command track. Or Diplomatic Corps. You get your tricorder out again, but it doesn’t show you anything still and you didn’t expect it to. But then you approach a door, and hear whimpering from the other side.

You have your hand on your phaser as you push the door open. It’s dark compared to the rest of the building; there is a small window but there’s not much light coming through the Caylaran atmosphere right now. You take a moment to let your eyes adjust, then head toward the whimpering.

The room is small; some kind of office, perhaps? There’s a desk in the room, and behind it—

“Number One?” She’s crying. Number One is sitting on the floor crying, hair a mess, dress uniform dirty, cradling Ensign James in her lap.

You can barely believe it, but you squat down, reaching for your tricorder. You can see James breathing, at least. You look around, but Chris isn’t anywhere to be seen.

“Number One?” You scan them both. They both have traces of the drug in their systems, but a lot less than the guard you scanned earlier. As your eyes adjust you can see though that James has hit his head; there’s blood in his hair and on Una’s uniform. He’s also been hit by a energy discharge, but to the side.

“Una? What’s wrong?”

“I failed everyone. I didn’t protect my captain. What first officer doesn’t protect her captain? They’re going to throw me in the brig. They’re going to court martial me. I lost my captain, and he’s dead, I—”

Suddenly you’ve had enough. You slap her, hard. “Number One!”

“Lieutenant! What did you just—”

“Oh my goodness! I’m sorry, I—you—” You breathe. “Are you all right?” You strip your backpack off for your medkit. You’re going to need to try to bring Ensign James round.

“I—I’m not sure. I don’t know what happened; everything was normal and then suddenly it wasn’t. I was so scared, Lieutenant. It was—I can still feel it. But it doesn’t feel like me.” She shakes her head, eyes still a little wide, and you pass her the water bottle. She takes a drink as you inject Ensign James with a hypospray. He starts stirring immediately, which is good, but you still think he needs a proper exam to rule out any brain problems.

“Una, you’ve got fifteen minutes to get back to the shuttle with Ensign James. There are alien ships attacking the Enterprise, and I’ve seen aliens here too. I think they may be called the Genai. You go down the corridor, down the stairs, through the big room, through the foyer, and out. Do you think you can do that?”

“Back to the shuttle. Genai.” She shakes her head again, blinking a few times. She squares her shoulders. “Yes, I think so. I can. What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to find the captain. You can tell the computer to run on autopilot, if you need to – I updated the climate model, so the computer should be able to handle it.”

Together you help Ensign James to his feet.

“Do you have your communicator still?”

“I don’t,” James is still groggy as he pats himself down.

“I do,” Number One brings her communicator out and opens it. “Number One to Enterprise, come in please.”

Static.

“I think there’s a blocking field throughout this building. The tricorder isn’t working for some things either. You’d better get going.”

“Good luck, Lieutenant.”

“Thanks. You too, Commander.”

You put your medkit away as Number One and James leave. You’re relieved that they’re both okay, and you’re confident in Una, now she recognises her fear isn’t hers.

Back in the corridor you check the door to make sure Una shut it. You push it, but it’s locked. Weird. You could probably unlock it, but you don’t want to go that way anyway.

You turn your back on the door and continue along the corridor. Number One had said the captain – had said Chris – was dead. But he can’t be. She wasn’t, and you think she only had blood from Ensign James on her uniform. But... what if he is?

If he is, you do your duty as a Starfleet officer first. Find his body. Survive. Get out of here. Then mourn him second.

You pass three locked doors on the corridor, but the last opens to more stairs. Still functional, but just going down this time. You go down, listening, hand on you phaser.

Back on the ground floor – you think, but it could be a mezzanine level – there are several rooms that are open.

You go into the first one, hand still on your phaser. It’s a bedroom, and there’s a Caylaran male cowering in the corner, wearing the service uniform.

“Have you come to end it?” He asks, staring past you. You don’t answer, but your heart aches; you think he means his life. The next room is empty, bed neatly made up.

You listen at the door to the third room, and you think you hear breathing. You push the door open slowly. You don’t see anyone at first, but as you head into the room you see the edge of a gold robe, protruding out of what must the en-suite. You think you’re getting a feel for Caylaran fashion, and this is easily the fanciest thing you’ve seen so far. The robe is made of gold fabric, whereas all the others you’ve seen have been colours embroidered with gold. This one has gold and silver embroidery, and multicoloured gemstones picking out the centres of the flowers.

“Crown Princess Nanren?” Your pitch your voice low. Gentle. You remember how Chris spoke to you on Earth in the past, when you were panicking, and try to convey that calm, that confidence, to her. And in that moment you know you can no longer focus on looking for him. If this is the crown princess, more hinges on you looking after her.

“Crown Princess? I’m a Lieutenant from the Enterprise. From Starfleet – the Federation. I’m not a dream or a nightmare. I’m here to help. Will you come out?”

“The Genai are here. They’re going to kill me. I—I can’t—”

“We will find somewhere you can call your people. I will look after you. We will call in your people and they will deal with the Genai.” General Order One doesn’t apply here, you think. Not if the Genai are already interfering. Not that you care about diplomacy anyway. You’ll do what’s right now, and face the consequences later.

“I don’t—Why aren’t they here already?”

“I don’t know, Crown Princess. But we will figure it out. Please trust me.” You put all your belief into your tone, all the hope you still have left... and she steps forward.

She looks every bit the princess. She is tall, even compared to the other Caylara you’ve seen, and her dress is as exquisite as you expected from the tiny part you’d seen. You wonder, briefly, how many she has like that and how many months, perhaps years, it took to sew. She has a gauzy golden cloak hanging behind her, also embroidered, and her dark hair is braided and pinned up into an elaborate style. The only things that are not Princess-like about her are her purple-blue swirled eyes. They are wide, and anxious.

You recall your briefing notes, and bow. “Princess,” you say, staring at the floor.

“Arise,” she replies, and there’s the ghost of a command tone there. Good.

You straighten, looking up at her again, and pause. This is not how you dress if you might need to make a run for it.

You exhale, surveying the room. It’s a bedroom – a staff bedroom.

“Princess, I can get you out of this, I think. But first... you need to change.”

You find staff robes in the wardrobe that fit her, even if they’re a touch short. And sensible shoes. You have to sit her on the bed to take her hair down, but, you reflect with a little smile that she can’t see, taking her pins out is not unlike taking tiny components out of a circuit board.

“You get used to it, you know,” she says as she stands after you’ve finished. “The pomp and ceremony. The robes. People expect it of their princess, and you get used to it.”

“They are lovely,” you say, following her gaze to where her robes are hung up. “But we should get moving. Where can we call your people?”

“That sort of thing is in the wing on the other side of the Room of State,” she says. Right. The other side of that big room. Of course. And there’s a locked door between you and it.

Even so you retrace your steps. She’s much faster up the stairs than you, and you think bad thoughts about differing alien physiologies. But then, she would find the chairs on the Enterprise a bit small, you think. And the beds.

Soon you’re on the corridor with the door at the end, and you finger your jacket’s zipper as you get closer – it’s time for you to brush off your lock-picking skills. You hope the lock is easy like the ones on Eloma.

But the princess pushes the door and it opens with a whisper.

You can’t say anything. But you thank your lucky stars for small favours.

“Let me,” you say, as you approach the bottom of the stairwell. “If anything happens, go back the way we came.” You look the princess in the eye and she nods.

You crack the door open the tiniest bit, and you hear a voice.

You turn back to the princess, reach out and take her hand. You know it isn’t protocol but you squeeze gently, feeling the scales on her skin and a ring round her finger, hoping the touch will keep her calm.

You push the door open again.

“—everywhere. Yes. Me personally. I don’t care what you—yes I know scanners aren’t working. I wish you hadn’t got voice comms back. But she’s not here; she must be on your floor. Fine, Nerela. She could be in the south wing. No don’t come down here, you idiot. Go round. Ugh. Put Yaima on. Yes tell Nerela she’s being a pain. No, they’re still with our vessel, so she can’t be in the garden. It’s the storm cycle; of course we can’t—To the East, yes. I’ll see you there. But tell Nerela she’s done after this. No I don’t care. Alara out.”

You hear footsteps stalking down the room, getting closer. Your heart is in your mouth, one hand on your phaser, as you hold your breath. The steps falter slightly... and then they continue. You stay frozen until you can’t hear them anymore, then you give it a minute after that before you move the door.

The Room of State has changed since you saw it last; almost all the furniture has been pushed to the sides of the room, apart from a chair cushion in the middle of the floor; that’s what made Alara miss her step.

You take a step forward, and the princess follows, still holding your hand. She gasps, and you follow her gaze; at the end of the room are rows of Caylarans, lying on the floor. You look around, but the coast seems clear. You take your tricorder out one-handed, and you scan them. From here you can pick out their life signs – they may be unconscious but they’re still alive.

“They’re okay. They aren’t dead. Probably stunned with an energy weapon.” You feel the princess relax, and you drop her hand. “We can take care of them later. You need to show me where to go.”

She nods, and you follow her across the room and through the door on the other side. You have time to check on the way across: Number One and James aren’t there. Neither is the captain.

The stairwell on the other side is like the first, except this has paintings rather than tapestries, and your footsteps are louder as you climb.

“I don’t know who any of them are,” the princess says, looking at the paintings on your way up. “I suppose I should, but... they’re not my ancestors, I suppose. Just... predecessors. In a way.”

You resist the impulse to shush her.

On this stairwell a painting opens to the service corridor. You take the lead going through, but the corridor is empty. And when the princess shuts the door, you hear its lock click.

You walk along the corridor, listening carefully, but you can’t hear any signs of life. You have to hustle to keep up with the princess, but you push a couple of doors as you pass them. They’re both locked.

The stairs down at the other end of the corridor carry on further than they do on the other side, and your calves are beginning to ache when you reach the bottom. Your discomfort doesn’t matter, you tell yourself. It’s cooler down here, and you think you must be underground. Some kind of bunker.

“My real office is in my suite. My ceremonial office is downstairs, but this”—she opens the second door you reach—“is for emergencies.”

The office is dark as you go in, but she presses a control and it lights up. You close the door behind you and look around. Unlike the other rooms off the service corridors, this one is lavish once again. The wallpaper has gilded highlights, and the desk is made of a golden brown hardwood and is intricately carved. There’s no window since you’re underground, but the light fittings are made of bronze and remind you of the statues in the foyer. You realise the room is probably this nice in case the princess needs to do an emergency broadcast – her surroundings will still look the part.

The princess sits at the desk, pressing her palm to a sensor. A computer apparatus lifts up, and she enters some commands. You walk round the desk and stand a little way to her side, as a Caylaran man appears on the screen. His expression is blank, confused.

“Is this some kind of joke? At such a time? Using Princess Nanren’s—wait—”

He frowns, tips his head to one side.

“Your highness, is—is that you? The Genai—we were sure they’d killed you. That’s what they said. And the blocking field is on so we couldn’t scan—we had no idea—I—” He closes his eyes and bows his head.

“I am so sorry, your highness. I didn’t want to risk your people on a dangerous mission with no intelligence if you were already dead. But I should have trusted in you, and not believed the Genai without proof.”

Staff robe or not, Crown Princess Nanren straightens up and looks every bit the princess once again.

“Arise. Guard Leader Daymen, I am glad to see you. Please do not apologise; the time for analysing our decisions and learning from this situation is not yet here. First I must survive, and you must take back the palace. The Genai are still here; they have a vessel in the garden and people throughout the palace. Our people have been drugged; most are in the Room of State, but there are likely others dispersed through the palace.”

“They have three vessels in orbit too, I think,” you say, quietly.

“They have vessels in orbit too, although”—she presses a control, and a little data window appears—“they won’t be able to send any reinforcements through the atmosphere for a few more hours. What do you need to retake the building?”

“I will bring my guards now, highness. If you could turn the blocking field off it would make things safer, but—no. You are the most important. Enact the safe-room protocol, and remain where you are until we secure the building.”

“I may be able to lower the blocking field. But I shall keep safe. Do you have any news of our Federation guests?”

“Their shuttle left before the window closed. I was unable to talk to their ship at that time, but...” his expression goes thoughtful. “We use a limited range of communication frequencies. The Genai in orbit could have blocked them.”

You nod to yourself; the Caylaran frequencies had been in your briefing, and they were very different to Federation ones. The blocking field in the Palace was wide-band, but it would take too much power for a block like that over a bigger area. Much more sensible to just block the Caylaran frequencies.

“Thank you. May the skies protect you, Guard Leader.”

“May the skies protect you, highness.” He bows once again and cuts the connection.

“Lieutenant, thank you for all you have done for me so far. May I ask this last favour?”

“To take down the field? Of course, your highness. What do I need to do?”

She slides a ring off her finger and hands it to you. It’s a very narrow band of gold with a small red stone set on it. It’s big for you, though, so you slip it on to your thumb.

“You can use that to gain access to the systems. The security office is down the corridor to the right.”

“Lock the door behind me, your highness.” You smile as you turn to go.

“May the skies protect you, Lieutenant.”

“And you too.” You go through the door, closing it behind you. You hear a loud thunk a moment after you do; it sounds like more than a lock – probably blast doors. At least she’s safe, you think. Even if that means you’re alone.

You wonder about Chris, and where he could be. You have to hold on to hope, don’t you? You can’t think... no. You mustn’t. Instead you think about what he would do in your place. You think he’d be cautious. You’re nearly at your goal, but if you don’t succeed people could get hurt if the Caylaran Guard can’t tell who is who, or where they are. You’ve heard people complain about security officers being trigger happy; you think it’s probably the same for the Guard.

And you’re in a strategically important part of the palace; you don’t know how many Genai there are but they’ll probably find this area eventually. You draw your phaser, and make sure you walk quietly.

There is only one door left between you and where the corridor splits, when you hear a voice. The door opens a little, and you freeze. The voice is familiar – one of the Genai.

“—last time, no. I genuinely, and I am completely sincere on this, do not care what Alara thinks. Not even a tiny little bit! She missed this entire section! Yeah whatever, Yaima, you go tell her what I said. But when I find the Queen—Crown Princess, whatever, and she doesn’t, she’s the one that’ll get fired, not me! Nerela out!”

The door slams open, and Nerela stomps out. It’s her or you, but you are ready and she is not. Her black eyes widen as she sees you, and her weapon is in hand, but before she can aim you shoot. She grunts as she falls back, stunned.

Happily, Genai are shorter than Caylarans, although Nerela is wearing high heeled boots which make her look taller. You drag her back into the room she came out of, take her weapon and communicator and leave her lying in the recovery position. You shut the door behind you and it clicks a second later.

You shake your head; the doors are one mystery too many. You put Nerela’s weapon in your phaser holster, and tuck her communicator into your belt. Then you head to the right, toward the security office.

The first thing you notice as you push the door open are the screens. Dozens of them. The second—

“Chris?” He’s frowning, pointing a phaser at you. He looks at you like he can’t believe his eyes. Like you’ve stepped out of a nightmare.

“Chris it’s me. I’m real. I’m really here.” You take a careful step through the doorway, keeping eye contact with his bloodshot blue eyes, letting the door close behind you.

“You don’t need to be afraid any more.” You think about what Number One had said. “This fear... it isn’t really you.” You stoop down and put your phaser on the floor. You take Nerela’s weapon and put that on the floor too. And as you do, something clicks into place in your mind.

“Chris, you’ve been helping me, haven’t you? Locking doors to keep me safe? To help me get where I needed to go?”

“I’ve been so... afraid. I—I needed to keep her—to keep you safe.” He relaxes his grip on his phaser a little, and you reach for your tricorder.

“You were drugged, Chris.” You scan him. “Number One and James are safe, they got a lower dose than you.” A much lower dose, you realise, looking at the numbers. “I sent them back to the shuttle and they returned to the Enterprise. I’m going to end all this, get us home. But I need you to stop pointing that phaser at me.”

He looks at his hand, holding the phaser, then back at you.

“But is she—are you real?”

Your heart melts for him. You haven’t said these words, but you’ve felt it for a while. And—you worried, you genuinely worried, that you would never get to say them. This may not be the moment you planned, but he has to believe you.

“Chris, I love you. I’m real.”

“I—” he drops the phaser, and it clatters to the floor. The next thing you know you’re in front of him, arms around him, holding him. You can’t think; you can speak. You just hold on, letting your body feel his warmth, his solidity. You may not have been drugged, but you had been so afraid

. After a moment he puts his arms around you, too, and you just stay there for a moment more. Holding him. Letting him hold you.

As much as you’d like to forget everything else right now, you still have a job to do. You pull back, take hold of his hand, and look at the security console. You can see feeds of the Room of State, the foyer, the other rooms you’ve been in, and other places, too. Beneath the monitors is a schematic; this is how Chris was locking and unlocking the doors, you realise. But how did he have the credentials to do so?

You look at the desk and see a ring like the one the Crown Princess gave you, nestled in a groove.

“How did you get that?” You ask.

Chris frowns. “I was in that big room, but I was so afraid. I came through the door. Went upstairs. Along the corridors. Looking for somewhere safe enough. I got here and the Caylaran... we struggled, he tried to shoot but I took his weapon.” You follow his gaze to an energy weapon on the ground. “Then he ran. And I stayed. I could see everything. Not get caught out. And then I saw you.”

You squeeze his hand, and work the controls with your other hand. There is a glyph that looks like a shield; you turn it off. You check your tricorder – finally you can detect life signs. Both Caylaran and Genai. As you do, Nerela’s communicator chirrups to life.

“Nerela? I swear, if this was you—! You have the worst timing! The Caylaran guard are here. Put the blocking field back up immediately. That’s an order! Nerela? Nerela, answer me! Ne—”

It lapses into static for a moment. Then silence.

“The Guard are here, Chris. As soon as the atmosphere clears we can go home.”

When you return to the Enterprise you go to the captain’s quarters. You know he won’t be there, but you need the sense of his presence. His smell.

Chris had to stay on the planet to complete the original negotiations and help deal with the Genai; the drug’s effects had faded by the time the atmosphere was passable again, and you’d got some water and rations into him. Spock came down and stayed, but you had only left Chris because he ordered you to.

You have a shower, put on one of his sleep shirts, and curl up on the sofa under his throw blanket to write your report.

“Sweetheart?” You wake up to Chris kneeling in front of you, hand on your shoulder. His hair is damp and he’s out of his uniform. Your brow creases for a moment – you don’t remember him using that endearment for you before.

“Chris,” you say, stretching. Pushing the throw away, and leaning into his touch. “You’re back.”

“I am.” His mouth quirks into a smile. “There was a lot to sort out; it seems the Genai and the Caylara have a dispute over a world on a system between them. The Genai thought if Caylara joined the Federation, we would take their colony from them. They thought if they disrupted the negotiation and killed Crown Princess Nanren, either we would give up, or the Caylarans would be too afraid to continue.” He moves his thumb along your shoulder.

“Spock put the fear of God into the Genai in orbit. I’m not sure how,” he adds, at your incredulous look, “but they and the Caylarans have requested mediation. And now the Genai want to work towards joining the Federation, too.”

“I wish they’d chosen to talk to us first,” you say, frowning. Thinking of the dead Caylaran. “These breakthroughs always seem to come at such a cost.”

“They do,” he says, gathering you into his arms. Holding you against him.

You stay in his arms for a while, just breathing. But eventually he pulls back, and moves to sit beside you.

“You were amazing today. You’ll be getting a commendation, but Crown Princess Nanren wanted me to convey her thanks, too. You saved her life.” He reaches into his pocket, then leans forward and fastens a chain round your neck. It’s delicate, golden, and from it hangs the ring that she had lent you for the computer. That you had given back before you left. “She wanted you to have this. But she thought a necklace might work better.”

You shake your head, taking hold of the ring. “Saving her was as much you as me, Chris. Locking those doors.”

He looks at you, thoughtful. “I don’t think so. I—I have never felt fear like I did today. Now I look back at it I can tell it wasn’t real, but at the time, seeing you on those screens, moving with purpose, helping our people and the Caylarans... you gave me hope.”

He pauses, blue eyes meeting yours. Hand reaching out to touch your face.

“When we were down there... I remember what you said to me. I love you too.”

You lean forward, meeting him for a kiss, gentle at first but it goes passionate almost immediately, both of you pouring your feelings for each other into the connection between you. You didn’t know it could feel like this, you think, before he pulls you into his lap and thoughts flee away.

“Lieutenant, I want to thank you.” Number One says, sitting at her desk. “I was not myself down on Caylara, but you did yourself proud. You saved us.”

“You’re welcome, Commander.” You smile. “I’d say any time, but right now I’d be happy if I never left the ship again.”

“That being said, if you tell anyone—”

“If I tell anyone you were crying, I can expect to spend the next month of duty shifts degaussing the transporter with a microresonator?”

“Oh that’s a good one. I must remember that. Yes. You will be degaussing, Lieutenant.”

“Understood.”

#writer wednesday #Christopher Pike #Christopher Pike x Reader #Captain Pike #writings of the girl from outer space #fanfic #fanfiction #Star Trek Discovery #Star Trek Strange New Worlds #The Engineer's Adventures

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