#me: stumbling over my own two feet trying to rush over to my KING of kings

[sidney-latrobe]

A throne doesn't make a man king | Part Three

Summary: Eddie and you get cozy in his room.

Warnings: None.

Word Count: 1.625

People, who asked to be tagged: @scenesofobx, @816-igottamissedcall

When the clock struck eight, I looked outside my bedroom window and stared at the empty street. A forced sign rolled from my glossed lips, and I leaned back in my chair, catching a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror on my desk. I had made the mistake of mentioning to my younger sister that I was meeting the king tonight, and she nearly exploded, shoving every make-up item she owned into my arms. I refused to conceal the dark bags beneath my eyes, curl my lashes or wax the invisible mustache that only my little sister could see. She did, however, insisted on applying a thin coat of strawberry-flavored lipgloss, and I liked the shin and soft pink hue it added to my natural lips, but I didn't tell her that.

After catching a glimpse of movement out of the corner of my eye, I turned around and glanced through the window beside me. I almost lost my balance and tripped over in my chair when I saw the king pacing back and forth in my driveway. He seemed to be muttering to himself and bit down on his hair. Carefully, I leaned forward and cracked open the window.

"This is stupid! This is so stupid!" He ranted. "Fuck you, Y/N. Honestly. What the actual fuck am I even doing here?"

"You're being late, asshole."

The king jumped back and stumbled, falling to the ground. Groaning, he looked up and I was leaning out of a window and trying to shield my laughter with my hands. He sucked in a breath and shook his head.

"How long were you watching?"

"Just a little while." I narrowed my eyes at the empty street behind him and frowned. "Did you walk here?"

Even though we were a great deal apart from each other, I saw a slight blush creep across his face. "No."

"Alright, I'll be down in a minute."

I shoved the twenty-dollar bill my father gave me for books that I already owned into my bra and rushed down the stairs. My little sister was watching TV with my mother, and both looked over their shoulder to watch me nearly slip on the last step.

"Careful, honey," my mother called, "no boy is worth breaking an ankle for!"

"It's not that type of date, mom!" I shouted and pushed my feet into my shoes.

"That's what you said about the last guy!"

"Oh, shut up, Lily!"

Before my mother could ask me what my sister meant, I was out the door and starting the king all over again.

"Jesus Christ, Y/N," he muttered as I beamed at him. "You're like a fucking canon ball."

"Thanks."

"That wasn't —" He stopped himself and forced a smile on his lips.

"Shall we go?"

"Sure, but you really didn't have to park that far down the street."

"I don't mind."

"You were afraid that my parents were going to chase you away if they saw who I was spending my Friday night with, weren't you?"

"No!"

"Oh my God! Eddie, are you blushing?"

"Shut up!"

We reached the car now and jumped inside. Eddie twisted the key and the engine roared aloud.

"Where we're going?"

"How about we pick up something to eat and go to your place?" Eddie nearly hit the break and sent me flying through the windshield.

"M-My place?"

"Yeah, I'm not really in the mood for a movie or the arcade, and I thought it might be nice getting to each other better." I studied his face for a moment, saw his shock-widened eyes, and added, "We could also stay at my place, but my mom and sister will interrogate you and storm into my room every five minutes."

"No, no. My place is fine. It's just … I just definitely didn't expect company tonight."

"Don't worry." I laughed. "I'll promise I won't peak at you dirty underwear."

Eddie tried to sound as he steered the van right, and muttered beneath his breath, "That's not what I'm worried about."

We purchased two pizzas, one pepperoni, and one barbeque, and Eddie drove his van back home as I ripped off a slice of pepperoni and took a hearty bite. Of course, I burnt my tongue from the heat of the cheese, and Eddie chuckled at my attempt of cooling my mouth by flapping my hand in front of my lips. Then, Eddie asked me for a taste. I moved her slice to his mouth, and he bite down on it, causing him to feel a burn from the hot cheese.

By the time we reached the trailer park, half of the first pizza was gone. Eddie grabbed the cartoon from my lap and hopped out. He took a deep breath as he opened the front door and let me in first. "Well," said Eddie, "this is it."

I looked around the small space; the tailor was cozy with orange carpet on the floor, hardwood cabinets, and the entire walls were covered with hats. The space was cluttered with dirty clothes, half-eaten sandwiched, and stubbed-out cigarette butts.

"It's nice."

"You don't need to lie, Y/N."

"No," I chuckled and followed him into the back toward what I assumed was his bedroom. "I like the decor. I think my grandma has this lamp."

Eddie laughed and quickly kicked something away before he opened the door far enough for me to enter his room. Similar to the kitchen and living room, Eddie's bedroom was chaotic, cluttered with items varying from tapes and band t-shirts to old burger wrappers and old socks. Above his bedstand hung a black electric guitar and I nodded at it as we sagged down onto his bed and ate the remaining pizza.

"Are you still in your band from middle school?" I asked and nodded my head at the guitar. "What was it called? Corroded Casket?"

"Coffin. Corroded Coffin. And yeah, we, uh, we play Tuesdays at the Hideout. We have a pretty consistent fanbase of about five drunks."

"Seriously?" I bit into my slice and hummed. I need to come by and check it out sometime."

"I don't know," he grinned and took a slice from the box, "you might take all the attention away from us, being the only pretty girl in sight." It was the second time he had called me pretty, and I tried to ignore it. However, just now, while we were sitting in a cloud of his cheap cologne with our knees brushing up against one other, I couldn't keep the blush that his words kindled from spreading over my cheeks. When I shook my head, let my hair fall over my flushed face, and murmured, "Bullshit." The king grinned and gave me a knowing look.

"Can I ask you something?"

I rolled on my back and looked up at him. "Sure."

"What did you ask me to hang out tonight?"

"You were right before when you said that the hatred amongst different social groups in high school was mutual. I don't know why I tried to pretend that it wasn't. My friend, Sasha … we've been friends since kindergarten and when we got into high school … I just remember her being so afraid of not fitting in since that is what we were kinda doing in middle school, I guess. And I remember that I didn't understand her worry. You don't need to be someone else to find friends, that is what I told her. When she tried out for the cheering team, she just kind of fell into that whole pretentious crowd, and it didn't really bother me until she started to make excuses for me to her new friends."

"Long story short, I just … I guess I find it brave that you protect your friends by being your eccentric self, and I thought that maybe, I don't know, we might be able to become friends if we hung out. Honestly, it was a spur of the moment decision."

I felt the mattress shift beneath me and look over almost shrieking when the king's doe eyes were lined up with mine.

"You wanna be friends with me? Eddie "The Freak" Munson?"

"Well, I actually prefer to call you "King"."

"Why's that?"

"Because you sorta are. You're the leader of the Hellfire Club and you're band, and the way you look for Dustin and Mike … it's honorable, like a king. Besides, you already got the throne, don't you?"

When his breath warmed my skin and his nose brushed against mine, I became aware of how close had gotten. A nervous smile tugged on his face and then, I saw his lips move but didn't hear the words he said as his lips crashed against mine. I tasted the basil from our pizza on his lips and pulled away.

"Eddie —"

"I'm sorry, Y/N." The king's cheeks were crimson and rolled off the bed as I reached out to him as though my touch was poison. "I didn't mean to — I just thought — I'm really sorry. I —"

"Eddie!" He stopped walking away from me and stared at me with his big doe eyes like a deer caught in the headlights of a truck. "It's alright. It just — You surprised me."

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have. I just thought that —"

I pushed my hair behind my ears. "Don't worry about it. Okay?"

"S-Sure."

Even though I told him not to worry about it, I couldn't stop replaying the moment our lips collided over and over again in my head as I lay in my bed that night. I brought my fingers to my lips and brushed over the soft skin, wondering if my lips tasted like pizza or strawberry.

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[chanluster]

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

oneshot | friends with benefits! au | 18.7k words

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hyunjin.”

Don’t say it, girl! Don’t you dare!

“It’s...it’s not you.”

You put your hand on your heart. 

“It’s me.”

Oh, Jesus.

Your eyes raised to his own, wide and glistening. 

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

Face it, ____. You’re done for.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were almost delighted to let Hwang Hyunjin go.

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

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

It was partly you as well.

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

CHRIS THE PISS :

bitch have you done it?

CHRIS THE PISS :

helloooooo??

CHRIS THE PISS :

hoe answer the phone i’m dying!! 

CHRIS THE PISS :

or prolly hyunjin at this moment lmaooo

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

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

CHRIS THE PISS :

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

CHRIS THE PISS :

unless this is hyunjin and u killed her FUCK

CHRIS THE PISS :

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

YOU :

chan i will kill u :)

CHRIS THE PISS :

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

CHRIS THE PISS :

that was ur girl putting words in my mouth 

YOU:

omfg chan STFUUU i’m coming

CHRIS THE PISS :

PLS HYUNJIN I SWEAR UR SEXC

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

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

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

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

You cursed at the man who welcomed you.

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

“Sad it didn’t kill you off, then.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, we’re getting Indian.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“____?” 

“No, you’re not having any of mine.”

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

“Shoot.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh my God.”

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

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

Your mouth dropped.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Let’s do it, Chan.”

His hand went limp in your hold.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He had all the time in the world for this.

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

You wanted this as much as he did. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Just like your best friend promised.

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

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

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

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

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

“Good girl.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh. My. Fucking. God.

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

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

You blinked. 

Imagine what he could have done with his dick.

“____?”

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

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

Pride washed over his features. “Good.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He read your every plea. 

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

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

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

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

Nodding, it was all the signal he needed.

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

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

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

Your best friend could see right through you anyway. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Goodnight, Hyuck.” 

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

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

YOU WOKE UP WITH CHAN ALREADY GONE.

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

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

“Oh my God.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

CHRIS THE PISS: 

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

CHRIS THE PISS:

cause im sure asf u can’t walk rn 

You rolled your eyes until it hurt. Stupid prick.

YOU:

i haven’t gotten out of bed actually 

CHRIS THE PISS:

oh damn

CHRIS THE PISS:

i PARALYSED u??

CHRIS THE PISS:

why am i so powerful 

“This asshole,” you muttered. 

YOU:

STFUU COCKY MF

CHRIS THE PISS: 

It’s ok you’ll cute in a wheelchair

YOU:

?!?!?!?!!?!

CHRIS THE PISS:

but tell me 

CHRIS THE PISS:

how good was it

This had you pausing. 

CHRIS THE PISS:

outta ten

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

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

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

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

Again, the situation here was different.

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

YOU:

2/10 :)

You waited for his text.

However, you did not receive it.

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

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

“Now I know you’re lying!”

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

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

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

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

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

God, you could almost feel your nose growing.

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

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

“Shut up, Chan.”

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

“Try me, buddy,” you jeered.

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

“A Hyunjin?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

He did change your life.

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

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

Hopefully tonight.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jisung!”

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

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

“Boo!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The joy was not returned. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He narrowed his eyes. “Share.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Permission to punch him in the face?” 

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

“Fuck.”

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

You played with his curls. “How angry?”

He held onto you tighter. “9/10.”

That certainly made you do a double take. 

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

Of course, because you were his closest friend.

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

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

Suddenly, a very pleasing idea came to mind. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Come here, then,” he guttered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The image had you remembering your Lord and Saviour. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

OF COURSE YOU WERE GOING TO THAT PARTY.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why did you even come here? 

You instantly soured at the thought.

Still, you could not help pondering further.

You should have stayed home. With him.

You groaned out loud.

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

Then were you feeling miserable?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lust. Pure lust swirling in his eyes. 

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

“Oh my God!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck,” you cursed out loud this time. 

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

Were you really just friends? 

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

But...to be more?

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

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

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

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

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

There was a reason he rated it 9/10.

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

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

Stop worrying. Chan is your best friend.

You turned the knob.

Your best friend.

Pushed the door open. Stepped inside.

Right?

“Back so soon?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I know Chan practically adores you.

The memory brought chills all over you again. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Because maybe she liked Jisung all along.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I like you!”

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

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

I like you too.

Well, shit. There it was.

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

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

You had finally told him of your feelings. 

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

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

God, you were such a bitch.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Cum for me, baby.”

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

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

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

All for him. All. For him.

Your best friend’s smile was positively wicked.

“I will completely ruin you, ____.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please, Chan. Please.”

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

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

“Donghyuck!”

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

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

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

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

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

Bang Chan, your very best friend. 

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

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

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

“Cum for me, ____.”

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

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

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

You decided to break the silence first. 

“I’m sorry for saying his name.”

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

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

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

“Hey!” You exclaimed, smacking him on his arm, which he responded with threats of pushing you off the bed. “You wouldn’t dare!”

His hands were upon you in seconds, steering you at the edge of the mattress. He cackled at your shocked yelping, and you glared at him as he pushed you away from the edge, and into his arms. “Asshole,” you murmured, burying your face in his chest, which he gladly welcomed as he stroked your hair softly with his fingers. 

You both found solace in each other’s embrace for a little while before Chan let go of you. “Hey, I completely forgot, but...I got you something while you were out.”

Your eyes perked up at the idea of a gift, which the man tutted when he noticed. “Greedy whore,” he crowed, getting out of the bed as he strolled to his desk, grabbing a brown paper bag. His marble-cut ass was out for you to see, and you took full advantage, watching it with no small amount of admiration. 

“Enjoyed the view?” He asked innocently as he slithered right back into bed again, offering you the paper bag. Sticking your tongue out at him, you took the offer, opening it up to see what was so special inside.

Catching sight of the gift had you bursting into a smile.

“Chan!”

You whipped the goods out of the bag, hand on your mouth.

The man bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from smiling too wide. “You like it?”

“You like it?” You parroted, already digging in. “Where did you even find these?”

“Oh, I visited my mom earlier in the day, and she got the cookies from the old shop,” he explained, taking one of the sweets for himself. “I instantly thought of you as she gave them to me, so I saved them for you.”

You widened your eyes in affection. These sweets may have been normal, bakery cookies, but they held a significance for the both of you: these cookies were what started the whole trend of you and Chan rating certain objects or situations for each other, and whenever you were on an academic break, you made sure to drag your friend back to our hometown, where you could always grab a dozen of your favourite snack.

“Thank you for these, bud,” you said, eating away the first cookie. “I think they’ve become better than an eight now.”

Chan hummed in agreement, finishing off his one too. Licking the crumbs off his fingers, he then turned to you, a question riddled all over his face. “Hey, ____?”

“Yeah?”

When he didn’t say anything, you focused your attention on him, propping your head on your elbow. You saw with slight surprise that his cheeks were reddening by the second.

“Chan?”

“It’s just…” he raised his hand, holding your own. “I’ve been thinking about…all of this.”

You raised your brows, refusing to reveal the dread rising in your gut. “Us?”

“Yeah, us,” he confirmed, stroking his thumb across your fingers. “Now, remember that you’ll always be my best friend, okay, like I don’t want you thinking that this would be the end of us or something—”

“Get to the point, buddy,” you hurried along, earning a glare from him.

Then, he licked his lips in anxiety, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. Hand never leaving yours, he pinned you with a stare, making you even more nervous.

He parted his mouth. 

“____, would you like to go on a date with me?”

You blinked. 

Your delayed reaction had Chan groaning. “Fuck, nevermind, just forget I said anything!” He swiped his hand away from yours, holding his head in shame. “I should have kept my big mouth shut, your bad habits are really growing on me—”

“Yes.”

Your best friend paused. 

Turned, ever so slowly, towards you. 

“What?”

You could not contain your smile as you took his hand once more. “I’ll go on a date with you, you big oaf.”

For a second you truly believed you had killed off Chan with that declaration. Then, his face exploded into pure joy, and he tackled you in a massive hug, burying his face into the crook of your neck.

“Oh my fucking God!” he cursed, “Don’t do that to me again!”

You laughed heartily as you put him at arms’ length. “You were the one doing mental gymnastics!” 

Refusing still to let go of you, he played with your hair as he clamped on his lips. “One more thing.”

“Shoot.”

“How good was I?” He looked at you, a vulnerable expression etched onto his beautiful features. “You know...with all of this.”

You stared at him, drinking in his face, his every detail, as if you had all the time in the world. Firstly, you had a right mind to pull his leg one more time, but you feared that if you made fun of him again, he might die of a heart attack.

And you still had many more years of tormenting your best friend.

So you brought him towards you, pressing your lips onto his. He seemed very much obliged to go deeper, but you pulled away just as quickly, offering him a ghost of a smile.

“I think you were a 10/10,” you whispered. “From start till finish.”

Hearing the score, and sensing your sincerity along with it, had him in near tears. He enveloped your mouth with his, backing you against the divan as he expressed his affection within the rhythm of his lips. 

When he pulled away, still mere inches from you, he said the words he’d been meaning to say since the day he first laid eyes on you — since the day you two contacted this system, since the day he knew your rating as if he knew his own name.

“Well, baby, you’ve always been a 10/10 for me.”

[jays-supersonic-dynamo]

A Little Brother (Of Sorts)

“Perks of being an older sibling number one: being taller than your little brother. For now.”

just two short kings u.u

part of the 2022 ninbingo event ( @ninjago-bingo )

prompt used: small / also on ao3 here

-

-

Jay was fiddling with the training dummies again (for the thousandth time) when he caught a flash of blonde and black out of the corner of his eye.

He smirks inwardly and crouches down, pouncing at just the right moment and managing to catch a one Lloyd Garmadon in the act of… uh…

“What’re you doing, kid? Trying to sabotage my dummies again?”

“I’m not a kid!” Lloyd bristles, squirming in Jay’s grasp. “And I wasn’t doing anything!”

“Yeah, right.”

“I’m eleven! And I don’t need to tell you anything!”

Jay snickers, and raises him higher. “Buddy, you’re not even a teenager yet! You’re a little itty baby—“

“Noo!!”

“—Teeny, tiny infant. And you’re what, four six? Four five? Three seven? Two foot?”

“No! No! No! And I’ll be even taller than you someday—“

“But right now you’re suuuper tiny, so small I could pick you up, and—“ Jay manages to dip Lloyd and pull him up again in a neat arc, even though the kid was super heavy, what were they feeding him, “PUNT YOU LIKE A FOOTBALL! INTO THE STRATOSPHERE!”

Lloyd squeals and grabs onto Jay for purchase as he’s swung. As Jay slows down, he schools his expression into a pout. “I — I’ll bite you!” He says, baring his razor-sharp teeth.

Never has Jay been more glad he was turned into a whole-ass snakeman that one time. He smiles, revealing his own (slightly less impressive) fangs. “And what if I bite you back?”

The kid’s red eyes narrow for a moment, carefully analyzing something. Then he throws himself forward, as if he were going to bite Jay’s arm off, his whole arm off, First Master he needed his arm—

The Blue Ninja yelps and releases him at once. Lloyd expertly lands on his feet, sticks his tongue out at the older, and scrambles away, back to the Bounty’s main cabin.

“I’ll get you next time, Garmadon!“ Jay shouts after him, shaking his fist. No he does not feel like a scorned Saturday morning cartoon villain, what were you talking about?

Next time, he’ll have to do a better job of catching Lloyd off guard. He wants to make it a Next Time, he’s discovered. Jay wants to embrace not being the shortest a little longer.

/ / /

Walking back from the comic book shop, a place that truly exemplified Lloyd’s happy childhood memories, was a bummer.

This whole thing was a bummer!

Sure, Jay’s never been more happy to be in the right body again, and he knows the rest of the guys feel the same (Zane no longer glitching, Cole no longer complaining, Kai no longer over-over-compensating) but it doesn’t feel fair.

Because Lloyd isn’t. He isn’t happy, he isn’t relieved, and he won’t be for a long, long time now. He had to make a tough decision, a sacrifice. He might have to make more. He might lose more. He’s lost so much already. He’s so young. He was so young.

The Final Battle is so much more close, hurtling towards them at frighteningly breakneck speeds.

It’s all coming to an end.

Jay shivers. First Master, was this a happy train of thought.

He slows his pace a little, so he was walking in time with Lloyd, now. His (once oversized) gi now fits him better, places where he once cuffed them to fit are now at his knees and elbows. His red eyes were downturned, and hidden behind blonde locks that were even more overgrown now, starting to curl slightly.

“Jeez Lloyd,” Jay tries, reaching to ruffle the kid’s hair lightly. “I didn’t know you were going for the teen bedhead that soon. You make me feel—“ Old, he doesn’t say. He shouldn’t. “I feel like I need to be telling you to get a haircut already! Like I’m a geezer now!”

It doesn’t land. But Lloyd turns his attention to Jay, and his eyes squint with the barest hints of a happy expression, and Jay feels a rush again. Distracting. He can be a distraction.

“And, oh—“ He flumps over dramatically, stumbling a bit to keep pace. “Now I’m the shortest ninja again. Seriously, Lloyd? Why’d your dad have to be like, ten foot fourteen—“

“Eleven foot two.” Lloyd quietly corrects, because he actually paid attention in Zane’s math lessons.

“I reveled in being taller than someone! And now you’ve—“ Not taken, something else? “You’ve made it impossible for me to live that dream. Ever again.”

“‘M sorry, Jay.” He mumbles, but oh, victory upon victories, Jay can now catch a smile. A small one, but a smile. “But… I’m taller than Kai now?”

And Jay does a double take. He snatches a look over to the Red Ninja behind them (who helpfully cocks an eyebrow at Jay’s antics) and then back at Lloyd. “Holy shit. Lloyd, I think you might be right!” Jay laughs, and he lets himself get louder, more animated. “And you’re taller than your older brother too, just like Nya! This is so funny. Imagine, being shorter than both of your younger siblings—“

“I can hear you, Walker!” Kai shouts from behind them.

Jay shoots him a smug look. “What’s wrong, Kai? Afraid to be down on my level?”

Kai fumes back, preparing a retort when—

Lloyd laughs. It’s small and still dampened but goddamnit, it’s a laugh.

Kai catches it too. Without missing a beat, he goes back to bickering with Jay.

Anything for their little brother.

[lunar-wandering]

Delirium

@smallpwbbles happy birthday, take some delirious Wukong-

Word Count: 2k

Read on Ao3

-

MK paused in a mixture of shock, horror, and awe as he took in the sight before him.

Pigsy had his head in his hands, looking for all the world like he was totally done with the situation. Tang was standing beside him, trying to hide his increasingly obvious laughter. Mei had no such qualms, and was laughing out loud, practically on the verge of literally rolling around on the floor. Red Son stood next to her, holding up Mei's phone, which seemed to be recording, the fire demon trying desperately to look neutral to the situation, but a small smirk on the edge of his lips betrayed him, revealing his amusement. Sandy stood slightly off to the side, holding a blanket, ready to step in at any time.

And Macaque stood ramrod straight, appearing to be somewhere between 'embarrassed' and 'would somebody please strike me down already'- as Wukong leaned against him, saying a series of sloppily put together compliments.

MK took a deep breath, speed-running all five stages of grief in under an instant. (Possibly a new record for him.)

"I left. For five minutes." He said, taking note of how some places on the deck seemed to be dented, and was that smoke coming from over there? "How, exactly, did things end up like this?"

He received no answer, the others having jumped and turned to stare at him when he had spoken, having not noticed his return.

...Wait, where did Wukong-

"MK." Wukong said, and MK did his best not to jump as the delirious Monkey King appeared beside him out of nowhere and put a hand on MK's shoulder. "My, my dear su- ......succulent.....?"

"Successor." MK corrected, trying to ignore how the others were barely restraining their laughter. (Macaque, at least, looked somewhat sympathetic, but he also looked far more grateful for the fact that Wukong's attention had shifted away from him.)

"That's, yes. That's the word, yes." Wukong said, before grabbing hold of MK's cheeks, squishing them a little as he made sure MK was looking at him. "I am so proud of you."

"...Thanks?" MK said, questionably, pulling himself out of Wukong's grip. Wukong briefly glanced at his hands, seemingly confused as to where his successor had gone. "Monkey King- I'm right here. You should really be resting, until whatever this is gets out of your system-"

"Red Son!" Wukong exclaimed, the aforementioned fire demon making an audible noise of terror, slipping to hide behind Mei as Wukong spun around to face him-

Only to trip over his own two feet, slamming into the deck, denting it ever so slightly.

...For about the twenty-third time that day.

Sandy took this as his time to move forwards, gently laying the blanket down on top of Wukong, before announcing that he was going to try and make some more healing tea, (Wukong had dumped the first pot of it over the side of the ship, claiming that it was 'too bitter', 'wouldn't work anyways', and complaining that it didn't 'taste like peaches'), and the river demon left, going back down inside of the airship, leaving the others without his calming presence.

"...Okay guys, while Monkey King is....asleep..." MK wasn't even actually sure if Wukong was asleep, but he'd stopped moving and had become utterly silent since slamming into the deck, so- "I suggest we make it so that he doesn't hurt himself or us with anything on the ship." 

"What, are you suggesting we should baby-proof the entire ship?" Pigsy asked.

"...More like 'Monkey King-proof', but yes, actually, that is exactly what I am suggesting." MK said, "We're going to need to cover all of our bases-"

"Uh, kid?" Macaque interrupted, grabbing MK's attention by lightly tapping on his shoulder. "If you're going to Monkey King-proof the ship, you uh, might want to start with the railing."

He pointed to the edge of the ship, and MK followed his gaze to see-

"Oh you've got to be fucking kidding me." MK said, just catching the barest, tiniest glimpse of Wukong, wearing the blanket around his shoulders like a cape, leaping over the side of the ship. "That's the fifth time he's done that today."

-

It wasn't all that hard to find him again. All they had to do was follow the destruction a delirious, overpowered monkey leaves behind.

Or at least, that was MK, Mei, and Macaque's strategy, up until they stumbled upon a perfectly normal, entirely untouched clearing.

"...What do we do now?" Mei asked, and Macaque made to give an answer-

Only to have to jump back, barely avoiding being impaled as Wukong suddenly appeared out of the surrounding woods, carrying a rather large tree. He had twigs, leaves, and dirt all throughout his fur. The blanket was seemingly missing, but neither MK, Mei, nor Macaque really wanted to find out where it had gone. The group of three took a cautious step back as Wukong locked eyes with them.

"Wanna see how up I can lift this tree?" He said, already lifting said tree above his head. (Everyone ignored how he'd seemingly forgotten the word 'high'.) MK and Mei shared a look as Mei slowly pulled out her phone, opening up the camera.

"I mean, we really shouldn't, but..." MK said, and Wukong beamed, shifting to hold the tree with one hand, taking the chance to show off. MK and Mei 'ooh'ed and 'awe'd appropriately, but Macaque rolled his eyes and looked away.

Which cause him to miss seeing the exact moment when Wukong's strength faltered, the tree falling upon the Monkey King's back, pinning him to the ground.

Macaque certainly didn't miss Wukong's screech of terror though.

MK and Mei had froze in shock, but Macaque reacted instantly, running over to the pinned monkey. The panicked mutters of "Not again, not again, please not again-" left little doubt as to what was currently going through Wukong's mind.

Macaque practically sent the tree flying in his rush to get it off of the other, and, not knowing was else to do when that didn't immediately quell Wukong's panic, flipped him over, desperately hoping that seeing the wide open sky, with no mountain in sight, would calm the Monkey King down.

And, well, it must've done something, as Wukong quieted, blankly staring up at the sky, without blinking.

"...Are you....okay?" Macaque asked, fearing that he had made things worse as he kneeled down beside him.

"...Have I... ever told you that you have beautiful eyes?" Wukong muttered, and Macaque paused.

"Ah- no. No." Macaque said, standing up. "No, we are not doing this again- MK, come get your stupid mentor, we're going back to the ship."

-

"MK- hey- hey kid-"

"What is it now, Monkey King?" MK sighed, tired. It had been unanimous that Wukong could no longer go even seconds without being supervised, and now had to be watched at all times. MK, unfortunately, had gotten the short end of the stick and had been chosen for the first watch, (They had drawn straws, and he had not missed the sighs of relief from the others, nor had he missed how Macaque had magically changed the length of the straws. He swore he'd get that shadow monkey back somehow), which of course meant that he was the first to have to put up with the delirious Wukong's complete and utter bullshit.

"Um- Would, do you think Macaque's fur tastes bitter like his rationality?" Wukong asked, from where he was laying on his back, on the couch, yet another of Sandy's blankets set on top of him. (They'd tried to cocoon him, but after enough protesting they'd given up on it for now).

"Wh-" MK started, confused, turning the sentence over in his head to make sense of it before responding. "...First of all, no, I think it would just taste like hair, second of all, did you mean to say personality?"

"....Yes...." Wukong said, slowly, before a wicked smirk came over his face, and MK felt fear settle into his bones. "Do you wanna see me make a hair buddy-"

"No!" MK yelled, and he may have lost all his powers, including his enhanced speed, but you wouldn't have known it from the way he practically flew to stop Wukong from blowing on his hair. "You are not going to be making any clones any time soon, okay? Monkey King I need you to look at me and confirm that you will not make any hair clones while you're delirious."

"...I will not make hair buddies while I'm serious." Wukong said, and MK sighed.

"Good enough, I guess." He said, sitting back down in his chair, slumping, momentarily closing his eyes in exasperation.

When he opened them again, Wukong was gone.

"Fuck-" MK said, jumping up and spinning around-

Only to see Wukong on the other side of the room, curled up on top of the other couch. He'd somehow gotten more blankets than before too, MK was certain there had only been two in the room before, but now there appeared to be at least seven.

MK didn't want to question where and how Wukong had gotten them.

What he would like to know though, was-

"...Why did you move to the other couch?" MK dared to ask, prompting Wukong to stick his head out of the pile of blankets he had buried himself in.

"Cause this one's more soft! The other one's too....too..." He seemed to blank on the word 'stiff', and instead said; "Boney. Boney couch. Bouch."

MK took a deep breath, trying to keep himself from breaking down then and there. It was, of course, at this moment, that he noticed Red Son try to sneak pass the open the door and down the hallway.

MK didn't let him.

"Red Son!" He said, rushing over (never taking his eyes off of Wukong), and looping his arm around the demon's. Red Son squeaked, but MK ignored it as he dragged him over to stand in front of Wukong. "Perfect timing, I think it was about time for me to have a little break, y'know? Would you mind watching him for me for a moment?"

Red Son was about to say no- but the look on his face, the look of someone who was oh so close to Losing It made him reconsider.

"...Sure..." Red Son said, slowly, "So long as it's only for a bit-"

"Cool! Thanks!" MK said, immediately letting go, turning and practically sprinting out of the room. "Good luck!"

Red Son had the ever looming sense that he had just doomed himself.

(He should have never accepted their offer to join them on the ship. But dammit, MK had offered some of that spicy candy he knew Red Son liked, and the fire demon just couldn't have refused.)

For a few blissful minutes, it was silent, Red Son staring at Wukong in apprehension, while Wukong hardly seemed to have noticed that anything had changed at all, still snugly wrapped in his nest of blankets.

And then Wukong lifted his head, a questioning expression on his face.

"...Does blue exist?" He asked, and a look that was somewhere between exasperation and pure terror made it's way onto Red Son's face.

"Noodle Boy, hurry up with your break and get back in here, your mentor's going existential!" He yelled, looking in the direction MK had gone, desperately hoping that the other would come back and save him from this fate.

"You can handle it!" MK's voice called faintly.

"...If blue doesn't exist......Then red doesn't exist......so does that mean you don't exist?" Wukong asked, under his breath, looking at Red Son with fear.

"I most certainly can not handle this!" Red Son yelled, "Could somebody please get over here?"

Nobody answered his call. Red Son honestly hadn't expected them to.

After all, he would've made the exact same choice.

He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose, trying to figure out how to respond to the monkey that currently seemed to be having an existential crisis.

Only to jump as he heard an ear shattering scream of frustration ring through the ship.

This had the fortune of snapping Wukong out of his crisis, instead having him simply look confused. Red Son ignored the faint shouts from Macaque's room (something about 'fuck you've got a serious pair of lungs' and 'warn a guy next time') as he tried to calm himself down from the sudden scare.

Geez. MK had seriously needed that break.

[ayanna-wild]

Broken Wings

Word Count: 2921

Pairings: Lucifer Morningstar x Reader

Warnings: angst, fluff, hurt, comfort

A/N: Request from Wattpad, for the sake of this story Lucifer and the reader will not be related, set somewhere between s1 and s2, and I have nothing against Amenadiel, but he was kind of a dick during s1 lol

Requests and Tag List are open

Summary: It was a simple matter of loving the wrong man, but you couldn’t control your heart. How was it fair for you to be punished? But life was cruel that way.

.................................................................................

You weren't an angel per-say. You had the wings, the immortality, yet you lacked the power that came with being a true angel. To be blunt you were a side project God had taken up before abandoning it to create humanity, more a helper to his children than anything.

The only of your kind.

With little other purpose you dutifully fulfilled your role as the aid, accompying the true angels to earth. A mundane existence, but one you tolerated.

Until Lucifer had taken an interest in you, life was so much better after that. So full of fun and laughter, he called for your help more than any of his brethren or sisters. Although he never really needed any assistance, it was all an excuse to steal you away for a while.

For centuries that was your life, and you were content with it if it meant spending more time with him. You two grew impossibly close and thought you'd be with him until the stars in the sky fizzled out.

But that was before, before the rebellion, before his banishment, before your existence dulled so drastically. Spending centuries, millenniums feeling as though you were missing out on something better.

Which is why you had so graciously agreed to accompany Amenadiel to earth. So he could once again fail at convincing his brother to return to hell. You masked your excitement surprisingly well, or Amenadiel was just incredibly oblivious. Either way you weren't complaining.

~

"You seem happy..."

Your wings fluttered a bit, unable to contain the smile on your face as you glanced at the dark skinned angel.

"Well it's nice to get out of heaven once and a while, you know?"

That was only partially a lie, you really did enjoy earth much more, but truthfully you were excited about seeing Lucifer after so long.

"No. Heaven is perfect. " Amenadiel stated bluntly.

You watched him walk inside from the balcony, hanging back a moment to mutter to yourself.

"For you maybe..."

Your wings folded into your back as you walked in, not the least bit surprised to see the brothers at each other's throats already.

"Such hostility from such divine beings."

Your sarcastic remark quickly drew the attention of the king of hell, who turned to you with a grin so wide you wondered if it hurt his face.

"Oh brother, you failed to mention you brought along this beautiful little creature. Y/N, it's an absolute pleasure to see you again."

Lucifer approached you with open arms, your smile matching his as he embraced you.

"It is her role to assist us." Amenadiel said as if that was the obvious answer.

Lucifer pulled away from you, noticing the way your shoulders sagged a bit at the elder angels words. The devil frowned a bit.

"Role? Are you still listening to such nonsense?" Lucifer scoffed.

Amenadiel rolled his shoulders, flexing his wings a little in irritation.

"It is our father's will. You should be following your role as well."

Lucifer clicked his tongue, strolling over to his bar.

"It became rather dull, so many years doing the same thing, a drab existence, isn't it angel?"

The ending was directed towards you, and you almost forgot yourself, almost allowed yourself to agree, in front of Amenadiel. It was a nickname he had given you centuries ago. His own way of telling you he saw you as his equal, unlike the others.

You were his angel.

"She's not a real angel Lucifer, don't try to fill her head with your rebellious nonsense."

His words stung a bit, but he wasn't entirely wrong, you weren't a true angel. That bit of fact didn't seem to lessen the blow to your pride though.

"With such exquisite wings as hers, who could tell the difference?" Lucifer winked at you.

You straightened your back, feeling proud of yourself, your wings always were your favorite feature. You took immaculate care of them. Just as quickly as Amenadiel tore you down Lucifer built you back, you supposed that was one of the things that had drawn you to him all those years ago.

"You're a disgrace."

You stepped between them, placing a hand on Lucifer's chest.

"Maybe I can talk to him? He was always at least willing to listen to me." You offered.

Amenadiel seemed to ponder this a moment before nodding.

"I'll return tomorrow, don't let him pull you into any of his schemes."

Lucifer scoffed at his brother's warning. You smiled softly.

"Of course."

With a flutter of wings he was gone, and you were left alone with the fallen angel. Without a moment to appreciate the silence, a cup of amber liquid was held in front of your face.

"Fancy a drink my dear? We have so much to catch up on."

~

You weren't sure how it happened, maybe it was the drinks, or the way he spoke to you, but you found yourself stumbling out of his bed the next morning. Panic surged through your veins as you hastily pulled your clothes back on, cursing softly. You regretted nothing, but there'd be hell to pay if any of the heavenly host caught you bedding the devil. Lucifer still slept soundly, and you tried your best not to wake him.

You rushed from his room, running straight into a broad chest causing you to stumble back a bit. Amenadiel stared at you with an uncomfortably blank expression, and your heart dropped.

"Amenadiel... I-"

Your world became a blur in the next second, and you fell forward as your feet unexpectedly hit the roof of a hotel.

"What were you thinking! Fornicating with Lucifer!"

You glanced up at him, snorting at his wording.

"Fornicating? For someone who comes to earth so frequently, your vocabulary is a little dated."

You couldn't help the poorly timed jab, humor your way if deflecting tense situations. Unfortunately for you that only seemed to make Amenadiel more angry.

"Have you no shame? You don't seem the least bit remorseful for the sin you just committed!" He shouted.

You flinched a little, sitting back on your ass as you stared up at him. Should you grovel? Beg for forgiveness?

That would be the logical thing to do, it was what he was expecting. But perhaps your short reunion with Lucifer had sparked something in you because you found yourself leaning back on your hands, staring up at the angel before you with no remorse.

"I regret nothing."

~

Blood soaked your once white shirt as you leaned against an alley wall, shifting most of your weight onto your side. Anything to avoid the crippling pain in your back. Tears stained your cheeks and burnt your eyes. Dry sobs shook your body, no tears left to cry.

He'd ripped your wings from your back, tore them from your body, taking your immortality with him. You barely registered the sound of footsteps, hardly heard the woman talking to you in concern. You just felt so tired, a feeling you weren't used to.

It'd be okay if you slept, just for a moment, right?

Chloe panicked as she saw your eyes close, waving frantically as the paramedics arrived just moments later. Her hands covered in your blood as she wondered who could have possibly done that to you.

~

You woke to steady beeping, and an uncomfortable feeling of something wrapped just a little too tight around you. Bright lights forced you to close your eyes almost as soon as you opened them. You took a moment to adjust as you sat up, looking around the unfamiliar room that you slowly realized was a hospital room.

It all seemed so... human.

The reality of your sudden mortality crashed down on you, and you carefully pulled the I.V. from your arm. You hissed as you quickly stood from the bed, the sudden movement causing pain to shot up your back.

You nearly collapsed.

But no, you had to leave, get out of this place before questions you couldn't possibly answer came. You gathered your ruined clothes, fleeing before anyone could notice.

You kept your head low as you left the building, the bandages on your back straining against your hasty movements.

"Hey!"

A voice called out, catching your attention and a blonde woman hurried over to you. You stared at her in confusion, and she looked you over with concern.

"What are you doing out here? You shouldn't leave the hospital yet."

It suddenly clicked and your body tensed as you vaguely recognized her as the woman who found you.

"I'll be fine."

She looked ready to protest, and you grabbed her hands in desperation.

"Please... I just can't be there..."

She seemed to relent a little, and you breathed a sigh of relief until she told you her name. Then you found yourself begging her not to tell Lucifer anything, and she promised not to utter a word, if you told her what happened to you.

It had to have been the greatest lie you ever told, a fabricated story about a scorned lover. She believed it nonetheless, offering to help you get a change of clothes. Something less covered in blood, you went straight to Lucifer afterwards, carefully hiding what had happened.

Perhaps he trusted you too much, or maybe you were getting better at lying because he didn't question your claim to want to stay on Earth. He seemed thrilled, and you hid your pain with a smile when he embraced you, thankful your new jacket hid the bandages.

~

For months that was the routine, a difficult dance to move to, especially with how close you two were becoming once more. But you'd stop his hands before they could trail up your back in your more heated moments, directed his attention to something else. You were so careful not to let him see your back.

Careful to never let him follow you into the shower. Careful never to sleep on your side, or let him give you a back rub. Always avoiding Chloe, lest she bring up your injuries. You were so careful, for months.

So why had you forgotten to lock the door while you were getting dressed?

"Should we order out again darling? Perhaps from that little coffee shop you so like much? I heard they have a new..."

Lucifer had barged into the bathroom, clad in only his underwear and robe loosely tied as he questioned what you wanted for breakfast. Your whole body froze, mind shutting down as his words came to an abrupt stop. The atmosphere of the room suddenly felt thick, and you could have sworn it became harder to breath.

Lucifer said nothing, staring at your horribly scared back. You held your shirt to your chest, refusing to turn and meet his eye. Worried what emotion you might find. He had moved so quietly, and so quickly that you jumped when his fingers were suddenly grazing your back. Just below the rough skin where your beautiful wings had once been.

"Who did this to you..."

It was more of a soft demand then a question, but you hesitated.

"I... I cut them off..."

He chuckled a dry, humorless chuckle, and he draped his robe over your shoulders. Probably realizing you'd be more comfortable if you could cover your scars. You muttered a thank you and his hands rested on your arms, rubbing soothingly up and down as you grabbed the silk robe, holding it tighter around you.

"Those aren't the scars you get from cutting your wings, I would know. No, those are harsh, angry scars, something tearing wings off would cause. Don't lie to me angel, who did this?"

His grip tightened on your arms ever so slightly, but it wasn’t out of anger, at least not towards you.

"Amenadiel..." Your voice was so faint you barely heard yourself, but judging by the sharp intake of breath, he had heard you just fine.

"What?"

"A punishment... for being with you..."

You caught his reflection in the mirror, the flash of his eyes, his face shifted, just for a moment, but it was enough for you to realize just how angry he truly was.

"Lucifer-"

He turned on his heel, leaving the room and getting dressed in a fury. You approached him cautiously, closing the robe around you and tying it into place.

"What are you doing?"

He finished buttoning his shirt before turning back to you.

"I need you to do me a favor my dear."

A frown pulled at your lips, but you slowly nodded.

"Pray to my brother."

You jerked back as if someone had physically slapped you.

"What?"

"You trust me, don't you?" He smiled, but there was something in his eyes, something that unnerved you.

"Of course."

He seemed so calm, contrary to what he had been just moments ago.

"Then pray to my brother."

He guided you into the living room and stepped just out of sight. You hesitated, shifting your weight from one foot to the other before finally doing as he asked. It only took moments before Amenadiel appeared in front of you.

He'd come so fast, probably expecting you to beg for forgiveness.

You had no idea how vastly unprepared you were to see him again. Your hands trembled, and you held the robe closer around you, taking an unsure step back.

You didn't have time to dwell on it and Amenadiel had no time to say anything before a sickening crack filled the room and the angel was sprawled out on the ground.

"Hello brother."

You blinked slowly, taking a second to catch up with the fact that Lucifer had just delivered a crippling blow to his brother's face and Amenadiel laid dazed on the ground. Blindsided by the unexpected blow. Lucifer gave him no time to recover, picking him up by his neck carelessly throwing him into a wall. You shielded your eyes from the debris flying by.

"I've just had the unpleasant surprise of discovering what you did to my darling little slice of heaven."

You wordlessly watched Amenadiel pull himself out of the now prominent hole in Lucifer's stone wall. He was unsteady on his feet, but that mattered very little to Lucifer who swiftly grabbed his brother's shirt, tossing him across the floor as if he weighed nothing.

"And they call me the devil." Lucifer scoffed.

Amenadiel managed to at least prop himself up with his arms, spitting out a bit of blood.

"You are the devil, Lucifer, and she betrayed heaven by being with you."

Lucifer took a step forward, clearly ready to continue the one-sided fight. But you quickly stepped in front of him, worried he might go to far, if his red eyes were anything to go off of.

"Just let him leave, you made your point. You're flogging a dead horse at this point." You uttered, refusing to glance at the angel pulling himself off the ground.

"She received a punishment fitting her sin and she still crawled back to you."

Your skin bristled at his comment, and you found your unease fading away to anger. You rounded on him so fast you surprised even yourself at the words spilling from your lips.

"My sin!? You think you're a saint, but you're no better than me! It wasn’t sin Amenadiel, it was free will, if humans can have it why can't I?"

Amenadiel narrowed his eyes as he stood, but you didn't back down.

"You sound just like Lucifer."

You found yourself laughing at that, and with a sudden burst of confidence you shoved his chest back a bit. His beating from Lucifer making it slightly easier to do so. Speaking of the devil, he watched you unleash your anger, gazing at you with amusement and satisfaction.

"Good! You know what, I should have sided with him during that rebellion! Because he seemed to have the right idea! Heaven might have been perfect for you, but it was hell to me! I was beneath all of you, an errand girl for you to degrade, treat like shit!"

Lucifer pulled you back a little when he saw the anger in his brother's eyes. You were mortal now after all. You let out a cruel laugh, though there were tears in your eyes.

"Do you want to know the best part it all?"

Your laughter died down, and you gave him a cynical smile.

"I don't owe the Silver City a goddamn thing anymore, you think you were punishing me? You freed me, you and all your kind can go to hell, because if anyone belongs there it certainly isn't Lucifer."

Amenadiel opened his mouth to say something, taking what he probably assumed was a menacing step towards. But Lucifer rested his hands on your shoulders, daring his kin to try something. You didn't seem fazed though.

"Run back home and lick your wounds like the obedient lapdog you are. I'm not wasting any more words on you."

Amenadiel clenched his fists in repressed rage, but said nothing, not in any condition to fight his brother. He was gone in a blink, and you felt all the energy drain out of you. Lucifer caught you as your legs gave out, and he smiled proudly at you.

"You were marvelous love, I'd nearly forgotten how sharp your tongue can be."

You laughed breathlessly, and he brushed your hair away from your eyes.

"How do you feel?"

You smiled up at him, the heavy feeling finally lifting from your shoulders.

"Free."

................................................................................

Tag List: @sallyp-53 @mizzezm @adira-secrets @we-are-all-alittle-strange-here @gingernarwal @im-just-along-for-the-ride @lifeshortbro @measure-in-pain @emiwrites3reads @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @kelly-n-russell @aiofheavenandhell @beththedemonhunter

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Hue and Cry XVIII

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series), trauma, some elements untagged.

This is dark!medieval!Bucky Barnes x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: The reader and Zemo try to figure out what’s next.

Note: I actually think we’re closer to an end then the beginning. My goal is to finish this before moving onto anything else but that might be my original stuff so I might take a little break after this series to figure that out! Your patience and following along has meant the world to me. <3

Thanks to everyone and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

MASTERLIST

In the coming days, trunks were opened and stuffed with clothes, blankets, and miscellany. The servants did much of the work as when you were asked what to bring, you chose three plain dresses for you and several more outfits for Elina. Zemo tutted and ordered his staff to fill the chests.

There was no distinct urgency however as the horses were to be re-shoed before you set off and the baron seemed content to enjoy the summer sun with your daughter. He would sit with the two of you under the tree or take her on a walk of his sprawling green or dangle some ornament before her to reach for.

Your mind didn’t retreat from the prospect of your departure. He said a fortnight at longest, you had to leave before that. You worried about Elina and how she’d miss him and how she’d fare on the road. She was a healthy child but you couldn’t help but think of all that could go wrong.

The third day after the announcement of your looming trek, you sat on the balcony as Elina chewed on berries and Zemo sat with a book. The air was thick and damp from the heat but the sun was tamped out behind the gathering clouds. He wore his shirt untied at the top so that the fur of his chest peeked out and you wore a sleeveless cotton gown in a pale blue.

“Do you intend on negotiating? Truly?” you asked as your mind wandered.

He looked over the book and reached over to scoop up a slice of strawberry from Elina’s shirt and flicked it into the saucer, “what do you mean?”

“Are you going to try to seal the alliance they want or is it all a ruse?”

“My liege has given me leave to approach their proposal however I wish. If they present some benefits for us then yes, I should like to have peace but… they’ve not offered anything before that we couldn’t find elsewhere,” he shrugged and lowered the book, “are you concerned for them? The people who let you suffer as such?”

“It is still my homeland but that is not what I’m worried for. I wonder how long your patience can wear on,” you said.

“We have spoke on this, we both know--”

“Yes, I know, but… how long should I have left with my daughter?” you hissed.

“You think I mean to take you from her? Perhaps march you to your death?” he scowled.

“I know however this turns out, my place in it is perilous,” you retorted, “do not mock my fears.”

“I do not--” he took a breath and his sneer softened. He chuckled as he leaned forward, “you are stronger than before, you know that? You snap like a lioness. I thought you underestimated me but I see you only misjudge yourself.”

“You are vague with me so how can I trust--”

“I have seen you through your recovery, through a labour, and a life beyond that,” he said, “I only ask a little more for all that I’ve done.”

You sat back and cupped your chin. You looked at Elina, dark juices smeared around her lips. She was entirely undisturbed by the bickering of adults. You reached over and took her tiny, sticky hand. 

You thought of Lord Barnes and if you should face him again. The idea made your blood run cold. Would he hate you? Would he still want you? You did not doubt he would have some cruelty left for you but as you were, scarred and hobbled, would it be different? And if he discovered your daughter, what then?

“He can never know about her,” you said softly and cautiously looked at the baron, “please, he can’t--”

“If he ever sees her, he will only know her to be mine but I have no intent upon my daughter being near that brute in her lifetime,” he growled. No little baroness but ‘my daughter’. You smiled at Elina and she squeezed your finger.

“I am grateful for all you’ve done for her. I know you didn’t have to--” your eyes strayed beyond the railing as some distant movement flurried beneath the sun. You squinted and leaned on the arm of your chair as you tried to see the specks along the horizon.

Zemo followed your gaze and stood. He went to the golden scope he kept on the balcony and put his eye to it as he adjusted the sights. He tilted it and stood stalk straight as if he’d been struck. The scope bobbled and he steadied it.

“Get her to your rooms,” he said, “lock the door and don’t make a sound.”

“What? What is it?”

“They are early,” he hit his open hand with a fist, “the letter… it could not be. The king must’ve assumed and sent the party prematurely.” He went to Elina and lifted her. He kissed her cheek and waved you up to your feet, “go on, take her. Keep her quiet as you can. I will house them on a lower floor but they cannot suspect you, understood?”

“How do you--”

“The banner, it is all I can make out,” he said as he grabbed your cane and rushed you back through his cool chambers, “you will lock the door and I will have Ulrich keep watch over the corridor.”

“You didn’t see who it was?” you asked as he opened the door and thrust you out into the hallway.

“You will know when I know,” he assured, “keep your candles unlit and draw the curtains.”

“My lord--”

“I did not plan for this,” he said as he marched you down the hall. You tried not to stumble as he still had your cane and you only had him to keep you from falling, “my lady, I do fear you will not make it to the Creek as we planned.”

He stopped at your door and you hugged Elina as you leaned against the wall. She was entirely untroubled by the sudden upheaval, ever a happy baby. “My cane,” you pointed to his hand as he gripped the silver topper, “please?”

“Oh, I-- Yes,” he handed it to you then reached to open your door, “keep that close…” he said, “just in case.”

“We’ll be as quiet as we can,” you assured him as you held Elina against your hip and limped with your can into the dim chamber.

“I will have Tess secret up some food before their arrival but you do not come out for anyone but me. I will knock,” he tapped a pattern on the door, “like so.”

“Yes, my lord,” you squeezed Elina as the nerves stormed inside of you.

He sighed and gripped the door as he leaned on it, “I only have a few hours to hide the evidence of you and all we’ve done to see you off. Even so, they will not suspect anything unless they are fed crumbs, yes?”

“I understand, my lord,” you stiffened and forced back the panic, “we will see what comes and do as we must,” you swayed Elina as she began to fuss, “for her.”

“For her,” he repeated, “now I must go.”

He closed the door and you set Elina down on the rug with the mouse Tess had sewn for her. You went to the door and twisted the latch into place. You turned back to watch your daughter as she tossed the toy and giggled. She pushed herself up to her feet, more certain everytime she stood. The time was passing much too quick.

🏰

You tried to distract yourself by playing with Elina and keeping her quiet. You worried however, the few times she made noise, that you would blow it all. When Tess brought the food, it was easier as your daughter grew hungry and restless. Once she had a proper meal in her, she was ready to lay down. She dozed beside you on the bed as you listened to the activity below.

First, you heard the horses through the window and the rattling carts and carriages. The voices were too distant to discern above a muffle and you weren’t so foolish as to peek out, even from so high up. You calmed yourself by watching Elina sleep but you knew you would not rest that night.

The sun sunk further behind the clouds and the evening approached with a dullness which forewarned of storms. You flinched at every noise, even floors below, and waited and waited and waited.

You had faith in Zemo, he was a great pretender. It was that very quality which kept you wary of him for so long. 

When Elina stirred again, you quieted her cries with your tit but she wasn’t taking to your nipple as eagerly as before. It calmed her for a while but she was soon awake again. You let her explore the chamber but not far from you and kept her away from the clacking wooden blocks gifted her by the baron.

And then the knock came as the sky blackened and grey clouds rumbled above. The rhythm drew you to the latch and Zemo slipped through the door. He was quick to lock it again as you ambled without your cane, afraid to tap the floor too hard with it. Elina greeted him with a shrill cry but it was blanketed by the bluster of the rising chaos in the heavens.

“The storm will frighten her but it should also help hide her,” Zemo said plaintively, “I hope.”

“They are here and settled?” you asked.

“Yes, so they are,” he confirmed as he picked up Elina, “They are too concerned with themselves to worry about any dead women hidden above.”

He sat in the armchair as the girl played with his beard as she liked to do. He smiled and let her, poking out his tongue until she did the same. He bounced her on his lap and she gibbered noisily.

“They are floors down, you should be safe to exist but if she cries, you will have to be quick to quiet her,” he girded.

“Anyone we know?” you asked as you sat on the foot of the bed and rubbed your hip.

He was silent and kept his attention on Elina. He raised his hand and let her bend his fingers to her will. She grabbed onto his ring and twisted it around his knuckle.

“My lord, is there--”

“Yes,” he huffed at last. He kissed the child’s forehead and set her down to crawl across the carpet, though she didn’t go far before she was distracted by her stuffed mouse.

“Who is it?” you asked as you folded your hands.

He rubbed his forehead then pushed his head back, “it isn’t him,” he assured, “if they were callous enough to send him or he was fool enough to come, well, we wouldn’t be having this placid conversation.”

“Who?” you asked again.

“His dog, Lord Rogers,” Zemo spat, “I don’t know which is worse. The man was watching Melinda as a wolf would watch a deer. I don’t even know the girl has flowered yet and he would be sniffing at her skirts. Despicable.”

“Rogers?” you breathed and your chest knotted. 

A roll of thunder boomed at that very moment and made you gasp. Elina stopped playing and her lip began to quiver. You slid off the bed to your knees and went to her and gathered her up. You cooed and hushed her and she clung to the collar of your dress. You watched her face as the fear retreated and she turned to watch the window flash. The terror turned to curiosity in an instant.

“Ha, look how brave she is,” he snickered.

You nodded, speechless still. Your nose tingled and your eyes burned. You were so overcome at the idea of that man being so close. You recalled that day in the forest, your singular mistake, then the scene in the carriage, and that on the staircase when Zemo himself had kept you from his perversions.

“My lady?” he said, “you look unsettled.”

“Take her,” you murmured then cleared your throat, “please, take Elina.”

He got up and took her from your arms. You pulled yourself up by the bedpost and leaned against it, your grip tightened around the carved wood. Your chest pattered in time with the downpour against the castle walls. You shook as you felt the scar along your face and those that led down beneath your dress. It hadn’t just been Barnes.

“Lady?” Zemo got closer as Elina babbled.

“I… can’t breathe,” you said and turned to fall back onto your rear, the mattress dipping beneath you as your fingers clung to the post, “I can’t…”

‘A bird, a bird, high above the cloud…’ he began to sing as much to Elina as you, a tune in his own tongue, ‘a wing, a wing, flaps without a sound…’ he rocked the girl but kept his eyes on you, ‘an angel, an angel, looking down on me. A blessing, a blessing, cast upon the lea…’

He reached with one hand and drew you up to your feet. He let you lean against him as he embraced you against your daughter and kept swaying in time to his voice and the sudden onslaught of the storm, ‘a lady, a lady, spinning at her wheel. A mother, a mother, her will as strong as steel…”

You clung to his sleeve and buried your face against the thin cotton. He kept singing until Elina was quiet and the rattling of your bones stilled. You were embarrassed at the sudden emotion which overcame you and the dampness on your cheeks. He carefully sat you back down and shushed.

The rain continued but the thunder passed. He moved carefully to lay Elina in her cot and stood as you hid your face behind your hand.

“I’m…” you uttered.

“No, that man. I remember that day,” he sat beside you and gripped his knees, “I know what he would’ve done and I am wise enough to know it was not the first he’d touched you.”

“It was long ago,” you said, “I shouldn’t be so… frail.”

“You are...strong. You must stay strong for her,” he sniffed and touched your elbow, “but you feel it now.”

“Feel what?” you blinked at him.

“The longing… for vengeance?”

You stared into his dark eyes and your chest continued to twist. Your spine went rigid and your jaw clenched. “I do,” you nodded and looked over at your daughter, “I feel it so very deeply.”

[hqamore]

boreal star ✵ chapter seven

with alina in the wind, general kirigan now has scramble to find her. the only person he has to get through is you.

series genre: romance & angst

series pairing: [past?] aleksander morozova (general kirigan) x reader

word count: 1.5k

warning(s): suggestive?

here’s the masterlist

when you regained consciousness, you attempted to open your eyes, quickly shutting them after being met with blinding lights. you felt aches all over your body. cold intrusions weighted your wrists as you shifted them, accompanied by the clanking of chains. you could hear the bustling crowds outside, conversations about the famed general kirigan being in kribirsk. the wind kissed your cheeks red when several masses moved into wherever you were being held (you presumed a tent).

“get up.”

not carrying for the tone, you pretended to sleep. after several moments passed, your chains were yanked. you fell onto the floor, your muscles pulsating in pain.

“what a lovely wake-up call.” you wrestled against the hands grabbing at you and, when you lost, were forced to sit up. “you know, i usually get to know someone before getting rough. we all have our kinks i suppose.”

a high-pitched giggle rang before it was muffled (not very well though). with a cleared throat, it ceased completely. you slowly opened your eyes to observe the room. a total of five bodies: zoya, ivan, a palace guard, a durast, and aleksander. you’ve gotten out with higher odds stacked against you.

“tell me where they went.”

you rolled your eyes and smirked. “unfortunately for you, my dear general, i’ve only sent them off. just told them to run far from ravka.”

your former lover glanced at ivan who shrugged. he breathed in deeply, clenching his fists. he squatted in front of you and called out to his subordinates. “leave us.”

one by one, they left the tent, zoya hovering by the opening with a nasty look on her face. you looked at her and winked. her lips curled into a sneer before she huffed away.

you returned your attention to aleksander who took the opportunity to come closer to you. you leaned back but failed, closed in by a bench. you watched as his hands rested on your knees. you tried to shake them off only for him to grip tighter as they climbed your legs. you met his half-lidded eyes, thrown off by the (scandalously) familiar gaze.

“what the hell do you think you’re doing?” you said, your eyes darting from his eyes to his lips.

a lazy smile took residence on his face, his tongue flitting across his bottom lip. “did you not miss it?”

feeling very confused and slightly mortified, you tilted your head away from him. “miss what?” you asked.

“our rendezvouses. how you could have me groveling at your feet with a simple touch. how i begged to use my mouth to please you,” he whispered. he rested his hands, kneading your inner thighs.

you scoffed. “did alina rejecting your advances give you brain damage? you really thought i would—”

your words were swallowed when his lips meshed with yours. you would be lying if it didn’t make you have butterflies. after being apart for years, you couldn’t tell if it felt right or nostalgic. stopping yourself from getting lost in the feeling, you shoved him away with your bounded wrists and bolted up. aleksander stumbled back, looking bewildered and distant.

“how dare you?” you spat. “trying to seduce me again for your stupid ambitions? let me be very clear, aleksander. you may have fooled me once, but there will not be a second time.”

you snorted and shook your head, a flurry of emotions rising in you.

“for thirty years, i wondered why i wasn’t enough for you? for fate? did i not follow you faithfully? did i not hang off your every word? did i not love you more than my own life?!”

furious tears welled as you heaved heavily. aleksander was still, his mouth parted, looking as if he wanted to say something. you couldn’t afford to give him the chance anymore. the stitches in your heart were breaking at the seams.

“i hated the world for so long for not giving me the powers you desired. i hated myself over things i couldn’t control. i knew for months that i was not your fated, your wistful destiny, but i stayed. i hoped that your words were empty and you said those things in a drunken stupor, but they say drunken words are sober thoughts. i was a fool to wish otherwise.

“the day i left was the day i stopped allowing myself to mourn over the fact that you were no longer mine. i finally saw my worth and decided that i would love someone else who would too.” you wiped away the tears that fell, then closed your eyes to prevent more from falling.

“did you?”

“what?” you whispered tiredly.

you heard him shuffle to stand, his shoes dragging against the carpet. “did you find someone else to love?” he weakly asked.

you made the mistake of opening your eyes. you took in his appearance—his red, glossy eyes that bore into you and the subtle way his frame wilted. you couldn’t decide whether to scoff at the audacity of him, acting as if he was the victim, or cry at the sight of his regretful posture. even through everything, a small part of you desperately wanted to believe him and embrace him, but you knew you couldn’t—that you shouldn’t.

“i did,” you said, avoiding his eyes.

“oh,” he breathed. “are you still...”

“we parted ways prior to my being here.”

he hummed softly and looked to the sky—like he was praying to the saints. “what if... i was being sincere? would you give me a chance to prove it?”

a scoff left you in disbelief, bitterness coating your voice. “you continuing to pursue your delusions is proof enough for me.”

with longing eyes, he stepped closer to you and captured your hands in his. he bent his neck to level with you. “what i’m doing… what i have been doing for the past five-hundred years… it’s all been to make ravka safer, to make grisha safer, to make you safer.”

you turned away, your will to not fall fading, only for him to tilt your chin towards him. he cradled your face in his palm, brushing away stray tears. “please, [y/n]. i admit, i made one of the biggest mistakes in my life not searching for you. i believed that you were a placeholder, someone to keep me satisfied until the sun summoner came. when you left, i realized how wrong i was.

“every single day, for 30 years, you were my first and last thought. how are they? are they safe? i hope no harm has come to them. [y/n], when you appeared before the king, you don’t understand how relieved i was to see you. at first, i was angry and spiteful at you for leaving me alone, but, as time passed and we fell into routine, my love resurfaced and won.”

you chuckled. “and what would you have me believe alina was? i saw it in your eyes at the winter fete. the same affection i once thought you held for me.”

“the winter fate?” he paused before smiling. “[y/n], you must’ve caught me thinking of you wearing that kefta.”

you grabbed his wrist and pulled it away from your face, the heavy chains grounding you. “you must think me stupid to believe that.”

then, aleksander looked grief-stricken. he fell onto his knees, his lips ghosting over your hands. “what do i have to do to make you believe me, [y/n]?”

you offered a sad smile. “destroy the fold… then, and only then, will i believe that your words aren’t pretty lies to trick me into complying.”

you turned as much as the chains could afford you. “please leave me be,” you whispered.

it felt like eons before you heard him move away. “there will be an expedition through the fold tomorrow. we are to escort foreign diplomats. so, rest up.”

wind rushed back into the tent as he left. once the tent flapped shut, you sank into the ground. tears streamed down your face as you pounded your chest, trying to relieve some of the sorrow. you hated yourself for even hoping that some of what aleksander said was true. you hated that, unlike what you wished to be, you were still easily manipulated by his charms.

i hate that i can’t hate you.

—

unbeknownst to you, aleksander’s heart was rabid and his duplicity dissolved, almost like the kiss was a rush of cold water. he couldn’t find it in himself to deceive you—or himself—anymore.

at first, he was attempting to seduce you. but, when he had kissed you… it was like all those years without you were unreal. it was like he hadn’t lived in the moments where you weren’t there by his side. it was like he could finally let go of the breath he never knew he was holding.

he was a blind man who was given the gift of sight, a deaf man given the wonders of hearing.

he had never felt more stupid in his life. he already had his equal. [y/n] was there, presiding over his heart, and he was an idiot to believe what he felt for them was something akin to complacency.

“general kirigan!”

blinking, he looked up to see ivan running towards him. he raised an eyebrow questioningly.

the heartrender stopped by his side, leaning closer. “we found the sun summoner and the stag. should we bring them in?”

aleksander glanced back at your tent, then turned away ashamed. “bring them unharmed. bring the tracker too.”

taglist (could tag the bolded ones): @kykymyeon @shelivesindaydreamswme @blackbirddaredevil23 @amortentiaaaa @safetyhtom @savannah-elliott @deceivedeer @gloriousmoneyrascalbiscuit @sarcastic-and-cool @supersouthy @let-love-bleeds-red @andwhatofthelight @all-art-is-quite-useless​ @mixed-imagination​ @ashdab2611​ @aria-grace-scott​ @multifandom-addict​ @aleksanderwh0r3​ @p3nny4urth0ught5​ @kirigansgf​ @evyiione​ @theoutsidelandhere​ @wizardwheezes​ @partiesandblurrypolaroids​ @pansysgirlfriend​ @takethee​ @its-carlerrr​ @kaqua​ @rachellovesharry @imrann123456

author’s babble: now, there’s a dilemma for me. i think i see two ways this can go. crack!fic-ish or no crack!fic-ish. i will keep the crack!fic-ish portion separate. if you’d like to read the alt route, you can start with this! it’s the alt route ending of chapter seven *:ﾟ*｡⋆ฺ(*´◡`)

[bumblesimagines]

Green Thumb

Part 9

Request: Yes or No

Almost at double digits y'all. Can someone be an angel and send me the ages of every one between civil war and endgame? Ik Wanda was 18-19 in Age of Ultron and Civil war and Sam was probs in his mid to late twenties in Civil War.

~

You frowned, touching the collar around your neck. It made you feel like an animal. It was to prevent you from using your powers. Rhodes had mentioned it would shock you if you attempted to use your powers. You weren't sure if it was instantaneous or if someone controlled it but you didn't feel like finding out.

"You like cats?" Sam asked T'Challa, prince of Wakanda.

"Sam." Steve called, glancing over his shoulder like a disapproving parent. You snorted softly, biting your bottom lip.

"What? Dude shows up dressed like a cat and you don't want to know more?" Sam asked, looking at Steve.

"I like cats." You mumbled, looking at Sam with a small smile. Sam turned towards you with a small grin.

"Of course you do, Animal Planet." You rolled your eyes at the new nickname, shifting slightly. You really didn't want to trigger the collar.

"I'm a dog person."

"You look like a dog person."

"And what do dog people look like?"

"Morons." You answered, giving a slight shrug as Steve cracked a smile, trying to bite back a chuckle. Sam huffed lightly, looking away from you. A moment of silence passed before Steve spoke.

"Your suit.. Vibranium?" Steve asked T'Challa. The prince turned his head slightly.

"The Black Panther has been the protector of Wakanda for generations. It's meant to pass from warrior to warrior. Now, because your friend murdered my father, I also wear the mantle of king. So I ask you.. How long do you think you can keep your friend safe from me?" T'Challa asked, finally looking at Steve. Steve stayed silent, looking forward. You sighed through your nose, feeling the tension return. You wondered if Clint had been notified of your arrest yet. The van pulled into a parking garage, officers opening the door once it came to a stop. You got out, following Steve to the man and blonde.

"What's gonna happen to him?" Steve asked. You turned your head, looking over at him. You made eye contact with him again, holding it for a minute before looking away.

"What was that?" Sam asked quietly. You frowned, brows furrowing.

"That- That little staring contest."

"Oh, shut up." You huffed, looking away from him.

"Same thing that's gonna happen to you. Psychological evaluation." The man replied.

"This is Everett Ross, CIA operative and Task Force Commander." The woman, Sharon Carter, introduced him. Her gaze flickered to you.

"The shock collar will be taken off after the evaluation." She said, voice stotic but gaze pitiful.

"What about a lawyer?"

"Lawyer, that's funny. See their weapons are placed in lock up." Ross instructed the officers. Sam scoffed, following the officers. Steve spared one last glance to Bucky before following Ross and the officers. You walked besides Sam, being escorted through the building.

"You'll be placed in offices instead of cells. Do me a favor and stay in them." Ross stared straight forward as he spoke. T'Challa moved to walk beside him.

"I don't intend on going anywhere." T'Challa said. You spotted Natasha, feeling some sense of relief.

"Clint was informed and I assured him I'd keep an eye on you." Natasha told you, giving a small reassuring smile. She looked at Steve, addressing him. The relief went away upon hearing Tonys' voice. He finished his phone call, approaching you and the guys.

"Consequences?" Steve questioned, staring at him. You looked around the large room, noticing the screens and everything going on.

"Secretary Ross wants you three prosecuted." Tony said, motioning to them and you. Your brows furrowed slightly. There were two guys with the last name Ross who looked vaguely alike. That definitely wouldn't be hard to remember.

"I'm not getting that shield back, am I?" Steve asked as Tony and Natasha walked away.

"Technically, it belongs to the government. Wings too." Natasha said, shrugging.

"That's cold." Sam muttered.

"Warmer than jail." Tony called back. You looked at the security cameras, noticing the room Bucky had been moved to.

"You got the hots for him or something?" Sam asked. Steve turned to look at you, blinking a few times. You shot Sam a look, raising your brows.

"No, Samuel. I do not and if I did, why would you ask infront of his longtime bestie?" You asked, almost gritting your teeth. Sam raised his hands in surrender as Tony pulled Steve into a meeting room to talk.

"Why have a meeting in a glass box?" You asked quietly. Sam shrugged, looking it over.

"To prevent fighting." Sam answered. You watched at Steve and Tony seemed to argue. You looked at Sam with an amused smile.

"Physical fights." Sam clarified as Tony stepped out and Sharon had you and Sam enter. You took a seat across from Sam, looking at the security camera footage. Sharon entered, placing a paper infront of Sam.

"I'm sorry about the collar." Sharon apologized softly. You leaned back in the seat, shrugging lightly. She pressed a button, allowing Steve to listen to the footage. Sharon slid over some photos over to Steve.

"Why would the Task Force release this?" Steve asked. Sharon gave a shrug.

"To alert the public, I guess."

"Right.. A good way to force a guy into hiding. Got seven billion people looking for The Winter Solider."

"You're saying someone framed the guy to find him." Sharon mused quietly. Sam seemed confused, looking at Steve. You looked back at the footage on screen.

"Steve, you looked for the guy for two years and found nothing." Sam reminded him.

"We didn't bomb the UN."

"That doesn't guarantee that the person who framed him knew that we'd get him." Sharon looked at Steve. She suddenly frowned, brows furrowing as Steve turned towards the footage. You looked up as the power went out, seeing the staff begin to freak out and try to locate the source. You looked at Sam, slowly standing up. Sharon took out a key, sliding it over to you.

"Level 5 east wing." She said as you unlocked the collar, tossing it to the side as running out of the room with Sam and Steve. Whoever had framed Bucky had found him. You followed the two down the hall and down some stairs. You reached the area, finding guards on the ground. The interviewer lied on the ground, calling for help. Steve approached him with you hesitantly following. You noticed movement out of the corner of your eye, dodging Sam when he was thrown towards you.

"Hey, dude." You breathed out, swallowing. Bucky had a deep frown on his face, blue eyes holding nothing but bloodlust. He looked downright terrifying. You thrusted both hands forward, shooting a fireball that sent him flying back against the wall. Steve quickly stepped between you and him as you turned and rushed to Sam.

"Sam? Sam!" You shook his shoulders, shakey fingers pressing against his neck. You felt his pulse, relieved to feel his heartbeat. You slapped his cheek, waking him up.

"I've always wanted to do that." You muttered, watching him wince. He groaned, turning his head. You followed his gaze, seeing the guy from before looking down where Steve had been thrown. You stood, helping Sam up and following him up a set of stairs. With Steve out of commission temporarily and Bucky in a frenzy, the guy was the only hope of stopping everything.

"Can you try to stop him or trip him up?" Sam asked, rushing up the stairs.

"I can't see him and I'd rather not make this whole building collapse on accident." You replied, almost tripping over your own feet. Sam found an exit, following the crowd of people running.

"He looked like any other guy." You said, taking in deep breaths. Sam shot you a weird look.

"We just ran up like five flights of stairs." You breathed out, hands resting on your knees. At least the chilly weather provided some help. Sam noticed a jacket, jogging over and picking it up. You stumbled after him, looking it over.

"I really need some water." You whispered, lightly fanning yourself. Sam rolled his eyes, following the crowd of people. You sluggishly followed, giving him a small smile when he stopped by a shop to get you a bottle. He took out his phone as you drank half of it.

"Come on." Sam pulled you along, following direction and entering warehouse. Steve had Bucky laying against some machinery, unconscious and metal arm trapped in a wedge.

"You two okay?" Steve asked, looking you and Sam over with a concerned frown.

"Yeah.. Someone over here needs some more training." Sam glanced at you with a teasing smile. You rolled your eyes, licking your lips as you heard the sound of a helicopter.

"Could you ice over his arm?" Steve asked.

"He broke a stone wall. Ice won't hold him but sure, I'll do it." You shrugged, approaching the unconscious man. You licked your lips, splashing the rest of the water on the machinery and touching it after. The ice creeped down, covering over the metal arm. You looked at him, finally getting a proper look. He was handsome. Brown hair that barely reached his shoulders, facial hair just growing in, those icy blue eyes that either swirled with sadness or anger.

"You're giving him bedroom eyes again." Sam called, his voice echoing slightly. You clenched your jaw, looking at him.

"What? I can't admire something that looks nice?" You asked, watching his demeanor change. He looked alert yet amused. You frowned, looking back at Bucky and finding him staring right at you. You rolled your lips into your mouth, clearing your throat.

"God, that's so embarrassing." You whispered, speedwalking towards Sam as he cracked up. You ignored your burning face, arms crossing. Sam calmed down, wiping away a tear. Steve walked over, watching Bucky grunt and sit up. He looked at Steve, calling out his name in a hoarse voice.

"Which Bucky am I talking to?" Steve asked, staring at him intently. Bucky stayed silent for a moment before speaking.

"Your moms' name was Sarah... And you used to wear newspapers in your shoes." Bucky said, smiling softly. Steve relaxed, gaze softening.

"You don't read that in a magazine."

"Just like that we're supposed to be cool?" Sam asked, giving Steve a slightly wide eyed look.

"What did I do?" Bucky asked, looking between you, Steve, and Sam.

"Enough." Steve answered. Bucky shut his eyes tightly, shaking his head as he hung his head.

"I knew this would happen.." He whispered. "Everything HYDRA put inside of me is still there. All he had to do was say the god damn words."

"Who was he?"

"I don't know." Bucky answered, though you weren't sure if it was truthful or not. He didn't seem like the type to lie, at least not to Steve.

"People are dead. The guy did all that just to get ten minutes with you." Steve pointed out, watching his old best friend. Bucky looked defeated and confused. "I need you to do better than 'I don't know'."

"He wanted to know about Siberia. Where I was captain." Bucky said quietly, gaze flickering around as he tried to remember.

"He wanted to know exactly where."

"Why would he need to know that?" Bucky stayed silent, licking his lips as he stared at the ground. He looked at Steve.

"Cause I'm not the only Winter Solider." He revealed. You looked at Sam in confusion and surprise. Bucky was strong and deadly on his own but a whole army could overthrow governments all over the world.

"That's terrifying." You whispered, leaning against the wall and sliding down so you were sitting down. Steve chose to lean against the wall after letting Bucky's arm free.

"Who are they?" Steve asked as Bucky brushed some hair out of his face.

"Their most elite death squad. More kills than anyone in HYDRA history and that was before the serum." Bucky responded.

"They all turn out like you?" Sam asked. Bucky looked at him, swallowing.

"Worse."

"The doctor... Did he control them?" Steve tilted his head. Bucky looked down at his lap.

"Enough."

"Said he wanted to see an empire fall." Steve told you and Sam. Bucky looked up at his words.

"These guys could do it. They speak thirty languages, can hide in plain sight, infiltrate, assassinate. They could take a whole country down over night and you'd never see them coming."

"Color me impressed." You whispered, playing with the strings of the jacket you were given after getting to Berlin. Sam slowly walked towards Steve.

"This would've been a lot easier a week ago." Sam said quietly, arms crossing. You stood up, dusting off your pants and approaching them.

"If we told Tony-"

"He'd have him locked up." You cut off Steve, glancing back at him.

"Plus, he'd never believe us." Sam added.

"But if he did-"

"It wouldn't matter and who knows if the Accords would let us help him." Sam stared at him. Steve let out a defeated sigh, looking away from you and Sam.

"We're on our own."

"Not completely. Dad would help." You pointed out. Sam nodded, glancing at you.

"And, I know a guy." Sam said with a light shrug. You looked at him with a raised brow.

"You have friends?"

"I said I know him, not that we're friends but to answer your question, yes. I have friends that aren't you. Jealous?"

"Imaginary friends don't count."

~~~~~~~~~~

The drive was silent, Steve and Bucky occasionally reminiscing about the old days.

"On a scale of one to ten, how impressed is Clint gonna be when he sees you?" Sam asked. You smiled, letting out a chuckle as you watched the snowflake float inches above your hand.

"Probably an eleven, but he'll give me the typical dad speech infront of mom." You answered, lightly blowing on the snowflake and watching it disappear. Bucky turned his head to look at you. His muscular figure was semi cramped in the backseat. Steve picked the worst possible car to hijack.

"Hawkeye's your father?"

"Adoptive. He has a tendency of taking care of strays who once tried to take down the team." You told him, giving a small smile. Bucky hummed, nodding.

"Speaking of strays, how are you and Wanda?" Sam asked, glancing in the rearview mirror.

"Uhm, good? We're still good friends, even after the kiss." You shrugged lightly.

"Woah, kiss?" Steve repeated, brows raising.

"Yeah, we kissed but it felt.. Weird. There was no spark or overwhelming emotions. The love I have for her is the same love I have for Lila and the boys. She'll always be like a sister to me." You told them, glancing at Bucky. Bucky was still a bit on edge but you could tell he was trying to get adjusted.

"What are your powers?" Bucky asked, attempting to get comfortable in the car.

"I'm like the avatar, I guess."

"Who?" Bucky furrowed his brows. You blinked, lips parting as you stared at him. He was from the 1900s and worked for a criminal organization, obviously he wouldn't know a kids show from the 2000s.

"It's- It's from a show. An avatar is someone who controls all four elements and they basically save the world, I guess." You explained, growing a bit embarrassed at how silly it sounded. Bucky didn't seem to judge, giving a small smile.

"We could watch it together, if you want. It's a nice show." You offered, smiling. Sam raised his brows.

"Wonder what Clint will think about that." He muttered as Steve glanced at you and Bucky through the rearview mirror. You shot Sam a small glare, reaching out and touching the back of his neck with cold fingers. He hissed and leaned forward, pouting as he rubbed his neck.

"Yeah, I'd like that." Bucky said softly, nodding. You looked back at him, a smile appearing on your face. Bucky was incredibly attractive and you couldn't deny having a small growing crush on him but you didn't want to cross a boundary. He was from the 1900s afterall.

"How'd you end up fighting the Avengers?" Bucky asked, focusing all his attention onto you.

"The orphanage I grew up in threatened to kick me out since I had turned 18. I freaked and caused an accidental forest in the orphanage so the team was called." You told him, chuckling softly. Buckys' gaze softened, a hum leaving him.

"You've got some pretty cool powers, doll."

"Doll?" Steve and Sam repeated. A flustered smile appeared on your face, giggling softly. Bucky glanced at the two, wondering if he had crossed a line or said something wrong.

"Thanks." You looked forward, biting back an even bigger smile. You weren't completely sure if he was flirting or not but it was nice to get a compliment from an attractive guy, even if he had almost broken your friends' back an hour before. Steve slowly parked the car, getting out to greet Sharon.

"Could you move the seat up?" Bucky asked Sam, arm moving so it resting ontop of the carseats. His metal fingers lightly brushed against your hair but you weren't bothered by it.

"No." Sam replied. Bucky let out a deep sigh. You bit your bottom lip, looking at him.

"We can switch." You shrugged lightly.

"It's fine-"

"No, you shouldn't be squished back here." You faced him, feeling him gently grab your waist. He was incredibly gentle and cautious, moving you onto his lap briefly before he scooted to the side. You sat behind Sam, lightly kicking the seat. Sam moved it forward ever so slightly. You looked over at Steve and Sharon, blinking when they kissed.

"Oh? When did that happen?" You asked, brows furrowed. You knew there was some attraction between them but you didn't expect them to already be at the kissing stage.

"A while back, I think."

"Huh.." You whispered. Steve returned to the car with Sam's wings and his shield, putting them in the trunk. He drove to an airport parking lot, pulling up beside a van. You smiled widely, quickly getting out when Sam pulled the seat forward.

"Thanks for keeping my kid safe, Cap." Clint said, opening his arms as soon as he spotted you. You happily hugged him, feeling a sense of relief and safety wash over you.

"About time you started causing me trouble." Clint grinned as he pulled back. You noticed Wanda, pulling her into a hug as well.

"Saw it on the news. You okay?" She asked softly. You nodded, pulling back and brushing some of her red hair out of her face.

"Vision let you go easy?" You asked. Wanda shook her head, chuckling softly. Sam approached you, glancing back at Bucky.

"Might want to keep an eye on these two." Sam said, motioning to you and Bucky. Clint stared at him before looking turning to look at you. Wanda tilted her head, looking at you as well.

"You're such a dick." You muttered. You knew Sam was just being protective. He had always seen and treated you like a brother.

"Bad boy and older, huh? God, I hoping you had skipped those phases." Clint sighed heavily. You were partially suprised he hadn't mentioned or pointed out that Bucky was a guy. You hadn't really spoken about sexuality and attraction with him but knowing Clint, he'd be supportive about it.

"Not bad." Wanda said quietly, giggling softly as she smiled. You gave her a playful smile.

"I've got good taste."

[justthehiddleswrites]

Make It Hard For Me | Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Summary:  The hotel lost your best friend’s, Tom Hiddleston, hotel reservation. So now you are sharing a room. A room with one king sized bed. Add in that you are hopelessly in love with your best friend. This is a recipe for disaster. Tom has a very arousing dream the first night in the room which only further complicates matters.

Warnings: Dom/sub Undertones, Light BDSM, Sub!Tom, Female Dominant, Friends to Lovers, Vaginal Sex, Oral Sex, Dom/sub, Light Dom/sub, Begging, Dry Humping, Grinding, Smut, Sharing a Bed

-

Tom shoved the heavy hotel door open with his shoulder, hands full with his luggage. You followed behind him, ladened with your own bags. Tom scowled and huffed when he dropped the bags just inside the door. You stumbled around him.

“I can’t believe the hotel lost my reservation!” Tom groaned. You put your bags down on the ground and sighed. Tom hadn’t stopped whining since he discovered they would share a room for the next two days.

“At least they didn’t lose mine.” you responded. “Then we would really be up shit’s creek.”

Tom stepped into the room. “Fuck. We are up shit’s creek.” He chuckled darkly.

You peeked around him to see what caused your normally composed friend to curse. You spied a single king sized bed. Your cheeks heated at the thought of sharing a bed with Tom.

“It will be fine. I’ll just take….” you scanned the room. “… that chair over there.”

Tom screwed his face up, and then his shoulders relaxed, taking a deep breath. “If anyone is sleeping in a chair or on the floor, it will be me, darling. It is your room.” He removed his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I apologize for my mood. I don’t travel well.”

You flopped onto the bed. Tom’s eyes widened as your boobs bounced. He stuck his hand in his pocket and adjusted while your eyes were closed. “I remember that trip to New York two years ago. You were an absolute bear until you slept.” you groaned, wincing as you dug underneath your hips extracting a TV remote. “Speaking of Schitt’s Creek, want to watch the latest season?” You waggled the remote at Tom, whose hand was still in his pocket. “I’ll even pay for room service.” you sing-songed the last sentence.

Tom’s lips curled in a smile and he chuckled, dropping his chin down. “Let me take a shower first and wash off the flight.” He headed towards the bathroom.

“Don’t use all the hot water!” you yelled after him, grabbing the room service menu and flipping through it.

Tom’s head popped around a corner. He gave a brief salute. “Yes, ma’am.” he smirked before disappearing again.

You fell back onto the mattress. “Fuck me.” you hissed.

-

Two hours later, Tom lied on the bed, his curls still half wet, eating room service chocolate cake and watching the latest escapades of the Rose family. You stifled a yawn next to him. Tom paused the episode.

“Sorry, the jet lag is finally hitting me.” you yawned again. Tom turned off the TV and stood up, pulling his shirt off. Your eyes widened in shock. “What are you doing?”

Tom stared at you, confused. “Getting ready for bed? I sleep in boxers.”

“Oh.” You squirmed under the covers.

Tom held out his hands. “Unless you are going to be uncomfortable—”

“NO!” you snapped back a bit too quick. “No. It’s fine. You are the one who has to work, you should be comfortable.” You flipped his side of the covers back. “Get in.”

Tom blushed, but slipped under the sheets just the same. You leaned over and kissed his cheek, ruffling his hair. His blush deepened. Tom turned onto his side to hide his face. “Night.”

“Night.” You snuggled under the covers and switched off the light before slipping into a deep sleep. Tom stared at the ceiling, too worked out to even consider sleeping.

-

Tom’s moans pulled you out of a restless sleep. The room was dark from the blackout curtains. You squinted to make out his form on the other side of the bed. He was on his stomach and grunting. It took several moments before you realized what Tom was doing. Your breath caught in your throat. You should have turned away, but you didn’t. Your friend, your crush, the starring role in all your sexual fantasies was grinding against the mattress next to you. Moaning.

“Please.” Tom whined in his sleep, hips rocking. “Please, ma’am, let me…”

You gasped, loud enough to disrupt Tom, who rolled onto his side. Whether or not he woke up was unclear. You rolled over in haste, not realizing how close to the edge you had scooted to stare. The loud thud of your body hitting the unyielding hotel room floor woke Tom for certain. He bolted from the bed and rushed to your side of the bed.

“Are you okay?” Tom asked, his face masked with worry, brow furrowed. He was unaware of the raging hard-on stretching against his boxers until it was too late. Tom prayed you hadn’t noticed.

You had, but were in too much shock to say anything. “Fine. I’m fine.” You brushed off his offered hand, scrambling to your feet. “Just a nightmare.”

Tom straightened himself up and twisted his body into an unnatural position to hide his clear arousal. Still deluded that you hadn’t noticed. “Must have been some nightmare.” Tom chuckled and his laugh disappeared into the dark night, leaving nothing but an awkward silence.

“It was something alright.” you retorted, slipping back underneath the covers. You punched the pillow back into shape. “I’m going to get some more sleep. You?”

Tom couldn’t go back to sleep now, next to you. Not in such a state. He tried to remember what he had been dreaming about before you hit the floor. The dream drifted out of his mind like tendrils of smoke, but considering his state, it must have been a sex dream.

“I’ll hit the bathroom first.” He hooked his thumb behind him. “Don’t wait up.” He joked before ducking away.

You settled in and feigned sleep until Tom returned, and the two of you drifted off.

-

The alarm rang too soon for Tom’s taste. He groaned, reaching out for his phone, hitting the snooze.

“Five more minutes.” he muttered into his pillow.

You stood up and slipped into the bathroom to shower and get dressed. When you emerged, Tom still laid asleep. His bare back exposed to the air. You marveled at the form of him, wondering how it would feel to run your hands along the planes and angles of Tom’s body. Your body heated at the thought of what you would or could do to him.

“You’re staring.” Tom’s voice cut through your daydream.

You jumped a bit. “Sorry.”

Tom sat up and smiled, ruffling his mussed ginger curls. “It’s okay. Just not used to the stares coming from you of all people.” He reached over and grabbed his shirt from last night, pulling it on.

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself, boy.” You slipped the last word and smiled as Tom blushed at the moniker. As you suspected he would. You stepped toe to toe with him, tilting your chin to see his face. “Now go take a shower while I order breakfast.”

“I love it when you boss me around.” Tom smiled, trying his best to keep his body from betraying his true feelings.

You curled up on your toes to kiss his cheek. “One of the many reasons we are best friends.” You smirked as Tom slid past you, smacking his butt.

He spun around in shock. “What has gotten into today?” The corners of his lips twitching into a smile.

You shrugged your shoulders. “Maybe I thought you needed to be punished.” Your eyes twinkled. “Have you been naughty?”

The blood drained from Tom’s face. Had you seen something, he panicked. “No.” he choked out, digging through his luggage to find clothes for the day and ducking into the shower.

You stared at the spot where Tom once stood, hands on your hips. “Liar.” And then went hunting for the room service menu to order breakfast for Tom and yourself.

-

Tom ate his entire plate of pancakes and bacon, along with not one but two cups of coffee.

“Are you planning on running a marathon today?” you questioned as you nibbled on your fruit, having finished up some eggs earlier.

Tom wiped his mouth. “I don’t know when I will get time to eat again. Low blood sugar is a common problem at cons.”

“Well, we can’t have you passing out, can we?” you giggled.

Tom stood up. “Are you going to head over with me today?”

You shook your head. “Nah. I thought I would lie out at the pool for a bit.”

Tom nodded back. “Just as well. I’m only over there in the morning. Meet you back here for lunch?”

“Text me when you head back?”

“Will do.” He kissed your forehead.

“Good boy.” There goes that blushing again. “Have fun.”

Tom cleared his throat. “Right.” He pulled on his pair of well worn grey boots, grabbed his phone, sunglasses and hotel key before leaving the room.

-

The weather was hot, but a light breeze kept you from overheating poolside. You brought a book along to read but were too distracted to focus on William Joyce. This morning had brought some answers, but more questions. Questions about your relationship with Tom. By the time he texted you saying he was 15 minutes away, you resolved to clear the air once and for all.

No one noticed how distracted Tom was that morning. The perks of working with strangers. Had Luke or even being Benedict been around, he would have to explain why he couldn’t remember people’s names and his sudden case of butterfingers. Something was going on with you. That was all Tom knew. That and the fact he was hopelessly in love with you. Sharing a bed last night tipped him over to the point of confessing his feelings, just to clear the air. But he chickened out.

“Tom!” you called out from the bathroom as you heard the door slam to the hotel room. “I need help.”

Tom rushed to the sound of your voice. He stopped in his tracks when he spied you standing in the bathroom wearing just your swimsuit, still damp from your swim. It hugged your curves and Tom swallowed hard.

“I can’t get the strap undone. Will you help me?” You glanced over your shoulder at him. Tom blinked several times, not answering. “Tom?” You barely contained your smile. “Did you hear me?”

“What?”

“My suit strap.” You gestured around your neck. “Untie it for me.”

“Sure.” He choked out. “I’ll just…” You backed up until you pressed your body against him. You wiggled your ass against his crotch. “You are a bit too close.” He commented as he struggled to keep his fingers from shaking.

You jumped forward. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make it hard.”

Tom’s fingers stopped picking at the knot. “What did you say?”

“I said I didn’t mean to make it hard, you know, untying the knot.” Tom finished undoing the knot, letting the straps fall on your back. His hands lighted on your shoulders, hot from the time in sun. You turned to face him, holding your suit up with your arm. How he wished you would move your arm. “What did you think? I was flirting?” You quirked an eyebrow.

Tom fidgeted, hands twisting in front of him, rocking back on his heels. “Well… no… of course not… that’s… you’re… and we are…” he mumbled and fumbled, cheeks turning a deep pink.

“Because I was.” You brushed past him, allowing the suit to drop as you stepped out of Tom’s sight.

It took Tom a second to register what you said. He turned on his heel to catch you digging for some clothes and pushed you against the wall, his lips crashing against yours. Your fingers weaved into Tom’s hair and you pulled his head away.

“So…” Your chest heaved against Tom’s, your nipples grazing along the fabric of his shirt.

“I want you.” Tom breathed, leaning to kiss you again. You tugged him away.

“I want you too.” You pulled him to whisper in his ear. “I saw you last night humping the mattress, begging. Will you beg for me, Tom?”

Tom gulped. “Yes.”

“Yes, what?” You smirked at Tom, whose eyes grew wider every second.

“Yes, ma’am?” He ended his sentence with a question mark.

“Good boy.” You pressed your lips onto his as Tom moaned into your mouth. Tom’s tongue explored your mouth hungrily. Your hands slipped down to squeeze his cock through his jeans. “Very good boy.” you muttered, pushing Tom off of you. You shimmied out of your suit and took a seat at the edge of the bed. “Strip for me.”

Tom furrowed his brow. You frowned. “I don’t enjoy repeating myself, Tom. Now strip.”

The speed in which Tom peeled off his clothes probably broke records. You giggled as he hopped on one foot, tugging at his boots. You raised a single eyebrow and licked your lips when Tom pushed his jeans and boxers to the ground. “See something you like?” Tom responded.

“Just thinking all the rumors are true.” You leaned back onto your elbows and beckoned Tom over. He crawled on top of you to kiss you again. You pulled him away by the back of his head, pushing him down your torso. “Let’s find out how talented that mouth is.”

Tom pushed your legs open with his broad shoulders. His beard tickling your thighs. Tom sucked on the delicate skin before ghosting his lips over yours, earning a hitch in your breath. You tugged his hair hard.

“Stop teasing.”

“Yes. ma’am.” He licked a fat stripe along your slit. You shuddered and sighed.

“Yes. That’s a good boy.”

The praise only spurred on Tom’s efforts. His nose nudged your clit. You bucked up into him. As Tom sucked and licked you, your orgasm near.

“Tom, I’m…”

Your nails dug into his scalp when he sucked hard. You came with a scream and gushed onto Tom’s face, who continued to eat you out. You pulled him up and spun the two of you so Tom laid flat on his back. You teased the tip of his cock along your slit.

“You tell me when you are close.” You kissed his lips, his beard glistening. He tasted of you.

Tom nodded against you. You lowered yourself onto his cock. Tom hissed and grabbed your hips. You pushed his hands away. Tom whined.

“This is not about you. This is about me using you for pleasure. I will decide whether or not you get to cum, understood?” You stared down at him.

Tom twitched inside of you. “Yes ma’am.” You rocked against him. Tom bit his lip.

“I want to hear you.” You continued to ride him, flattening your palms against his chest.

Soon you could sense Tom getting close. “I’m…” Tom panted. You stopped moving on him. You clenched around him. Tom groaned, his eyes closing and his hands fisting at his sides.

“Do you want to cum, Tom?” You mock pouted.

“Please…” You clenched his shaft again with your walls and wiggled a bit.

“Please, please, please let me cum. I want to cum. I need to cum.” Tom pleaded. His eyes wide as you moved so slow on him.

You reached down to find your clit and rubbed it with your fingers. Your hips rocked back and forth frantically. You reached up with your other hand and squeezed your boob. You came with a gasp, squeezing tight around Tom.

“Come for me.” You hissed.

Tom bucked into you twice before spilling into you. You collapsed against Tom’s chest. He panted, his chest hair tickling your face. His hands reached up to draw swirls onto your bare back, goosebumps popping up. You rolled off of him to the side. Grabbing his chin and turning his head, you kissed his lips with a tender touch.

“I think we need to talk.” you commented with a smile.

Tom’s eyes fluttered open. “That is an understatement.”

The two of you giggled in each other’s arms.

[sleepylixie]

1.5k words, Lovers to Strangers, non-idol AU. Angst, but of fluff

Dancer! Yeosang X Fem! Reader​

A/N: WELCOME TO MY very first official Ateez fanfiction!! This is the first of many fics I have planned for Ateez, can’t wait to show em to y’all! Anyways- onto the fic!

The spotlight wasn’t for everybody; it was a fear for some, an intrigue for others. But for him, your swan… the spotlight was his home. It makes so much sense that he left you behind for it.

//WHAT WAS.\\

“Any reason you were missing from class today?” Kang Yeosang was always alluring, but the years of adolescence had worked its magic on him. The years of hard training and workout had melted the soft, childlike sparkle away to show high cheekbones, a sharp jaw and perfectly straight nose. But his eyes were still the same- soft, warm, always lighting up when he smiled. 

You were yet to grow up- you still looked like an ugly duckling next to a pure white swan, marring beauty with just your presence. Did you even deserve to call him your best friend? Just because you grew up next to him, witnessing his life as an extension of your own? Was that even barely enough to stake your claim as a friend- as anything, to him?

“My ankle was causing trouble again.” you mutter, toeing off the blanket covering your legs to reveal the bandages wrapped around your right ankle. You were no stranger to injury, your body having taken the brunt of consequences for your clumsiness- but when you set foot on the stage, all the world’s pain seemed to melt away. You and Yeosang thrived off the spotlight and so did your friendship- but over the past year, the intensive program you both belonged to had stepped up their training regime and your body was struggling to keep up. “You really need to take care of yourself.” Despite the years spent around each other, it still astounded you how expressive he was without much movement. All he had to do was settle himself on the couch next to you and raise an eyebrow at you, lips curled in disapproval. 

You looked away, the rapid beat of your heart the only betrayal your body gave away for the rush of emotions you were feeling. Damn him for making you feel this way, like summer and winter had descended upon your skin at the same time, like time would stop at your behest when he was around you. Damn him for being so painfully easy to fall in love with. “I’ll be fine, don’t worry.”

“You better be, best friend.”

//

“You’re always so good for me.” Kang Yeosang was always alluring, but moments of intimacy made him look otherworldly. He was a passionate lover, that beautiful body of his aiming for pleasure beyond measure. and pleasure you he did, within an inch of your senses.

 You remember not being able to fathom the disbelief you felt when he stood in front of you under a streetlight outside class, hands twisting together nervously as he mumbled out a confession.. a confession of love. It was the dead of night, but you could have sworn you  almost felt the sun’s warmth in that moment, spreading from your heart to your toes, until the second thoughts sunk in. The memory of that momentary terror still numbs your fingertips sometimes, the fear that had coursed through your veins in the aftermath of that sunshine. What if, 6 months down the line, he looked back at this moment and felt nothing but a sea of regret? That you were nothing like the person he’d fallen for, only a shadow that could trail his otherworldly radiance? That he was better off far away from you, that you were better off alone, away from him? But you hadn’t voiced your internal sense of dread, choosing to drown instead in the pure joy that had settled onto Yeosang’s face when you told him his feelings weren’t unrequited. The first drag of his lips against yours was a sensation you knew you’d never be able to forget, the recollection still tinged with midnight softness. That night had  marked the start of your tryst with Yeosang and romance. Shifting from friendship to lovers was smoother than you had anticipated- it was only a matter of your cafe runs now being categorized as dates, the two of you now able to stumble to one of your apartments hand-in-hand, giggling like high school sweethearts. Your belongings were already scattered around each other’s homes, your parents exchanging knowing glances and accepting the other into the family. As the days went by, slowly and then all too soon, you couldn’t help but look back and think, oh, what an enchantment the two of you were.

You were the king and queen of your dance major, the ones most likely to make it in the world, hand-in-hand. Your duets were the tear-jerkers, the seat-shifters, the reason for the wolf-whistles and the frat-boy whoops in the annual showcases. You were savored by the spotlight, adored by the souls in the seats, envied by your peers.. but your love was for no one but each other- until it all went to hell.

//

“You know I have to do this.” Kang Yeosang was always alluring, but the time he chose to walk away made him unattainable. The accident onstage rendered you  with a weak ankle for the rest of your life- imprisoned away from the spotlight. You would never be able to dance again, said the doctors. You were to consider yourself lucky you could still walk. Even trying to dance again would have you running the risk of never leaving a bed again.

And your love, your  swan, he couldn’t stomach the idea of being with a lover who could never live in the spotlight with him. He was young, your swan, and disillusioned by the stars that sparkled in front of him, reckless in his pursuit to reach them. So he took his first ticket out- away from you, away from the country, into a new world with a dance company and a dance scholarship.

You hadn’t even left bed rest when he had slipped into your hospital room, looking for all the world like he’d committed a crime he couldn’t bring himself to regret. “You’re okay with me leaving, right?” The undertone of the question felt clear enough that you didn’t say it aloud- looking back, it was possibly because you were too scared of having to hear the words out loud. What were the chances that he would want to keep a relationship with a broken dancer from an old chapter of his past? That’s right, none. It took everything in your body to subdue the response you yearned to give him- no, you weren’t okay. NO, You wanted him to stay. No, you didn’t want to be left behind. But even in the state of imminent despair, the only thing you registered was the hopeful glint in his tired eyes. The same eyes that had dreamt and fantasized of this day, to be worthy of the world’s best, be the world’s best- “Of course, my love. Congratulations, I’m so happy for you.” You reached out for Yeosang’s hand and let him clasp it, his uncertainty melting away as he pressed one last fleeting kiss to your knuckles before the seconds began to fly. All too soon, he was getting to his feet, squeezing your hand before turning away.

“I’ll miss you.” he breathed hesitantly, turning around at the door to meet your gaze for what felt like one last time. “I love you.” His whisper was as light as air, but the silence of the sunrise allowed the words to grace your ears before he slipped out of the room as quickly as he had come, leaving you all alone. Just as you’d feared. He didn’t even break your heart behind him-

So you steeled your nerves and broke your heart by yourself. “No you don’t.”

You remember feeling broken for a long time, like you’d lost an anchor that had held you to the ground where you were supposed to be. In one fell swoop, you lost the spotlight and you lost him. You had nowhere to go anymore- no safe haven, no safe human. And yet, you couldn’t bring myself to hate him, your swan.

Was this what unconditional love felt like?

//WHAT IS\\

“Miss!Miss ! What are your plans for this fine evening? I’m sure a beautiful young lady of your stature has many places to be?”

The lights shone in your eyes- not as one large blinding gleam, but as tens of tiny blinking ones. The cameras clicked at you, petite spotlights of their own. 

“Maybe attend a recital, maybe find a drink in your marvelous city.” A renowned romance author at your age was unheard of- and with the rarity came fame. You pieced yourself back together, all by yourself. You  grew up, from a broken ugly duckling into something beautiful. This time, you were your own anchor. 

//

Kang Yeosang was alluring, but the spotlight following his solitary movements across a worn wood floor made him look like a god. There was nothing hesitant about his movements, the song building up to the swan song, the final adieu, the farewell of a character who had lived too much, too young. The audience was alive, electric with the feeling he left them with.

He made the right choice, your beautiful black swan. Watching him there, onstage, at the zenith of his existence, glowing, burning, alive under the spotlight that was so beloved to him… the embers of what you felt for him stirred, but you know they’d never come to life again. 

The spotlight was your swan’s home, and your words would always be yours. 

Thank you for reading! Do let me know what you think! - xoxo, Elliana <3

Network Tag: @kpopscape​ 

[justauthoring]

The Long Fight

Prompt: And, above all, you just wanted to see him one more time.

Pairing: Aragorn x Reader Word Count: 3,549

A/N: I just had to write a LOTR imagine. I just finished Return of the King a few nights ago, and I forgot just how much I absolutely loved this series. So, I hope you guys enjoy this imagine -- even if it doesn’t receive a lot of notes, or anything, i’m very proud of it.

“What did you do, Boromir?”

He sighs, kicking the ground beneath him as he walks fast, trying to elude himself away from you. But you’re quick on your feet, lighter, and it isn’t hard for you to match up to his speed -- he’s much too distracted by his own thoughts to put in any real effort of trying to run away, truly.

You reach out, gripping the sleeve of his armour tightly, and with a swift tug, he’s pulled to face you. And you pause as you meet your brother’s gaze, noticing the horrified look etching deep in his irises, and it’s almost as if he seems too ashamed to properly look at you. Boromir is careful to keep his eyes from meeting your own completely, and the frown on his lips is everlasting.

At that, your tone lessens, and your voice softens and suddenly, you feel pity. “What did you do?” And it’s the same question as before, but this time it means something entirely differently.

Boromir finally meets your gaze head-on then.

“I failed,” he says at first, the words choked up at the back of his throat. And at his next confession, the words are much harder to say; he pauses, and his lips part once or twice before he even manages to actually say anything. “I tried to take the ring from Frodo. He’s run off.”

He expects you to be angry, but all you feel is pity.

“He’s poisoned your mind,” you whisper, the hand that had held him in place falling limp by your side. “Just like he poisons all of our minds.”

Boromir catches your eye, puzzled.

“Father,” you explain, frowning. “He told you to bring the ring back to Gondor. And all any of us have ever wanted to do is make him proud,” taking a step back, you sigh, shaking your head. “Faramir would’ve done the same.” And then you pause, “I might’ve too. Just to appease him.”

“He has that much of a hold on us?”

“I think he always has.”

Boromir frowns, and your expressions mimic one another as you both stand there -- there’s an unsaid question left hanging in the air; what now?

And the answer is provided for you when you hear a cry, and it’s one so distinctly familiar that it’s enough to have your heart racing. Your body straightens, shoulders tensing, as you turn to look at Boromir, both whispering out in panic; “Pippin.” 

You take off in a sprint towards the noise, momentarily stunned by the sight of so many orcs, but then Boromir is racing ahead, and you pull your dagger from within your cloak. You may have been brought along the Fellowship for your healing abilities, but you could still put up a fight when need be -- and you would never hesitate to lay down your life for Merry and Pippin.

“Stay back,” you call to the two, ushering the back, holding them close. “Stay behind me. Don’t leave my side.”

And they don’t hesitate to listen, clutching onto your cloak as the four you stumble back along the hillside. Boromir stays at the front, knocking down orc after orc, you getting in a couple yourself. But it’s easy to tell that there’s far too many for you four to handle, for Boromir to handle. 

“Blow the horn,” you call to him, “blow it! Aragorn will come to our aid.”

And that you have no doubt in.

He does so, crying out as he ducks from a hit, and swings his sword out.

He blows again, pushing the three of you back; “run! Keep running!”

Merry and Pippin scream your name, and your eyes fly to your right, an orc headed straight for you. Eyes widening, you narrowly miss a hit headed directly straight for your head, one that surely would’ve killed you, kicking out your leg, knocking the orc off it’s feet, before stabbing it directly in the middle of the chest with your dagger.

You turn to find Merry and Pippin taking down an orc themselves, rushing to help them to their feet once it’s dead.

“Get behind me!”

You keep your arms out, stretched out along the two as they start throwing rocks, dagger held tightly between your fingers.

“Boromir!” You cry, “we’ll never make it!”

“Stay there!” He calls back, chancing a small look back at you, your eyes meet for a split second, “keep the hobbits safe!”

And things carry on for a moment, everything moving past you like a blur. But then you catch sight of something, and your eyes flicker up, only for your heart to quick and all noise drown out, everything falling completely silent as your lips part, and your brother’s name comes pouring from your lips in a deafening scream. But it’s too late, and you jump as the arrow lodges itself in his shoulder.

No.

He stumbles back, before falling to his knees. Your eyes water, your vision blurring as your heart sinks.

“Boromir...--”

And he gets back up, and he keeps fighting. But you know it’s a losing battle at that point, and he’ll die.

“No!” You scream, voice cracking, echoing throughout the forest, bouncing off the trees. 

A second arrow hits him.

He falls and you move towards him, but Merry and Pippin grab tight to you, and you fall to your knees with him. He crawls on his knees for a moment, strength wavering, and through the pain, he finds your gaze. Your tear-stricken, panicked gaze, and he just looks at you for a moment, before he gathers the courage to get up once more.

You reach out for him, but Merry and Pippin hold tight.

In your heart, you find it amazing he manages to bring down a few more. But in that moment, nothing but the sight of another, and the final, arrow hitting him registers in your mind. He falls to his knees with a thud, and finally, the everlasting grip of Merry and Pippin leaves you as you crawl towards him.

You should stop Merry and Pippin, you should try to help them, their screams echoing in your mind as orcs grab them, their struggling futile, but you know it’s hopeless in that moment.

It had been a losing battle.

You hold tight to Boromir, pulling him close, as you await the inevitable; death.

“Y/N,” Boromir gasps, reaching for you, hands limp, body strength fading. “Run-- while... while you still can.”

And you just shake your head, fingers digging into him; “I won’t leave you...”

When a shadow falls over you, you stare up at the orc that had brought him down with hatred burning in your gaze. “Do what you’re going to do,” you hiss, “you do not frighten me.”

He takes the sword off his back, the tip of it touching your chin, holding your gaze upwards and towards his own. “Such a pretty face,” he mocks, voice cold. “No reason to let it go to waste.” Your eyes widen, Boromir gasps as if to say something, but his words choke on his blood. “Grab her. Pretty meat for dinner.”

Hands grab at you, and you kick and scream, but nothing stops them. You’re lifted off your feet as if you way nothing, thrown over a shoulder that has you gasping out in response, while being carried off. You catch your bearing, pounding your fists into to the orcs back, your eyes finding Boromir’s already on your own, despite the ever impending doom waiting for him.

-

You’re strung along by your hands. Rope tied securely around your wrists, dragged along by a rope in an orcs hands.

They haven’t stopped for days. Merry and Pippin are somewhere behind you, you try to keep your sights on them at all times if you can, and when you can -- but it’s hard as you’re pulled and tugged every which way the orcs possibly can, find the greatest amusement at your torment.

Your feet ache, your legs wobble with exhaustion, and your throat burns with great desire and need for water. But nothing hurts more then your heart. The deep, dreading realization that constantly reappears in your mind that your brother was dead and you’re not far off behind him.

Pulled apart, tortured and killed to satisfy the hunger of ugly, monstrous creatures.

But the truth is, you don’t all that mind the thought of death. Part of you even welcomes it, death. To be reunited with your brother.

But the hobbits. You have to fight to keep them alive, like your brother had. That’s the only thing that matters now.

A harsh tug pulls you from your thoughts. It surprises you, enough so that you lose your balance, and the weakness in your legs betrays you then as you go falling to the ground, falling hard on your knees that elicits a soft cry from your lips. Your head hangs in shame as your bound hands balance you, palms pressing against the mud and dirt beneath you, for a moment, just for a moment, finding peace in the way your hands sink beneath the ground.

You wish the ground would simply swallow you whole then.

“Keep up!” A harsh voice screams at you, and a sharp kick to your side as you teetering to the left, crying out. Your eyes squint in pain, and don’t have to look to know that there’s a shadow over you, “get up! Get on your feet! We haven’t the time for you to be lazing about!”

Hands pull at you, grab and pinch at your skin and you’re yanked to your feet once more. It takes all of your willpower not to fall over again, using all your lasting strength into planting your feet firmly into the ground. You peel your eyes open, head jerking back at the sight of one of them so close, leering at you, eyes glaring down at you, like you’re beneath him. In his eyes, you are.

Nothing but pretty meat for him to eat.

“Don’t let it happen again!”

You nod, meekly, not trusting your own voice to even respond.

He takes one last longing look at you, and then he shifts, and you think he’s moving to walk, go back to dragging you. But then he pulls the canteen from his side, yanks the lid off and tips it towards you. Your lips part involuntarily, desperate for water, but instead, the liquid is dumped over your head. And it’s rank, dark, enough to make your stomach flip and your throat belch, feeling as if you’ll throw up.

You breathe hard through the mess, eyes squinting shut as laughter echoes and all attention falls to you.

When it stops, and you’re left gagging at the smell coming from you, your eyes split open and you find Merry and Pippin amongst, strung on the backs of orcs. Their attention is on you, and the pity in their eyes is enough to have you fearing they might gather up the courage to defend you.

You’re quick to react. 

“It-It won’t happen again,” you croak, voice weak but pleading enough it amuses the orc.

“I was just sweetening up dinner for later, my dear lady,” he sneers, mocking and cruel. “Come on, keep up.” He tugs the rope around your wrist and you’re pulled with a start, feet stumbling underneath you for a moment before you manage to gather your bearing.

You glance behind yourself, finding Merry and Pippin, and muster up the courage and strength to smile softly.

It’ll be okay.

-

You know the moment you’re thrown on your back, chucked mercilessly on the ground, that your time has run out.

“We’re not going anywhere, tell we’ve had a breather!”

The orc, you’re assuming that’s in charge, huffs; “get a fire going!”

Orcs bustle you. You keep to yourself, knees folded into your chest, hands around them, holding yourself tightly. Merry and Pippin are across the way, too far for you to reach them, and you know trying will only get the lot of you in trouble. So you don’t move. Keep your eyes peeled for any orc that strays to close, and making sure to keep your eyes open because anytime they fall shut, you see Boromir.

Dying.

“I’m starving,” one grunts, and your heart plummets. “We haven’t had anything but stinking maggots for three days!”

“Yeah,” one agrees merrily, “it’s time for our reward.”

Eyes zone in on you.

You hiss, breath halting, as you kick your feet, shuffling back.

“Fine,” the one that had been your personal keeper huffs -- the one in charge, “but only some. We need it to last us the rest of the journey.”

It. You’re not even a living being to them.

“No,” you sob, voice breaking as one approaches you. “Please. Please, no.”

You’d thought you were ready for death; that you’d accept it. But now, so close to danger, you find yourself desperate to avoid it. You don’t want to die. You have so much to live for, so much to see through. You want to see Faramir again, you want to make sure Merry and Pippin make it out okay -- finish what you set out to do with the fellowship.

You want to see Aragorn.

Oh, how you’ve missed him. You’re body yearned for him. Even through the thick of fear and despair, he would travel to your thoughts and remind you of what once was.

And how safe you’d felt with him.

You didn’t want to die without telling him just how much he meant to you.

“Y/N! No, stop! Y/N!”

Your face falls at the sound of the hobbits, shuffling back as quick and as best you can with the exhaustion and bonds.

“Please, stop!” You cry, voice cracking, cringing into yourself as the orc reaches you. You move to turn, prepared to crawl on your hands and feet, but the orc grabs your ankle and yanks you down and all that you can focus on is the fear. Merry and Pippins yelling drowns to the back of your mind as you turn, finding the orc leering down at you, weapon at the ready.

“Hurry up!” One of the orcs call, “we’re hungry here! Get the leg already!”

He turns to call back in defense of himself and you use that to your advantage, striking your free leg out and delivering a sharp kick to the cheek of the orc. He stumbles back, and you gather to your feet quick, moving to break out into a run. You’re not sure where, especially when you won’t leave the twins, but the thought doesn’t matter, before you’re grabbed two steps later.

“Stop your fighting! You’re only making it harder!”

“I’ll stop her squealing.”

And you pause at the threat in his tone.

Spun around, yours and the orcs attention falling to one from afar, sword held towards Merry and Pippin who stare back at you in fear.

“No, no, please don’t,” you cry, completely stilling. They know to break you. “Please don’t hurt them! I’ll stop!”

You’re thrown back, falling with a thud as the orc leans over you.

“I’ll cook you up first,” he whispers, “and then your little friends.”

“No!” You cry, kicking your leg out at him, but he catches it, dragging you with him. “No! Don’t you touch them! Don’t you dare!”

“Shut her up already--”

There’s a whizz in the air, and the orc never finishes their sentence as he falls to the ground dead, a spear in his chest. There’s a pause, a still, and then another spear spins through the air, and another orc falls. Mass chaos breaks out, and you kick out your leg again, knocking the orc off his feet and thudding to the ground. This time, you don’t fail and you get away enough, running through the panicked orcs who are too busy running for their lives to notice you, looking for Merry and Pippin.

When you find them, you waste no time.

“Y/N!”

“Come on, come on,” you call, grabbing at them best you can. “We have to be quick. We don’t have time. We’ll have to go through the forest, because-- ahh!” You fall to the ground, chin crashing into the ground. You’re spun and the orc from the before is on top of you.

“Y/N!” Merry screams.

Pippin lurches forward. “No!” 

“Go!” You call to them, kicking at the orc. “You have to go!”

They hesitate a moment, but one final look at them is enough to send them fleeing, best they can. You scream out as you swing your bound hands at the orc, trying to keep his focus on you. If you die now, you die. But you won’t let him touch Merry and Pippin.

“You’re still mine to finish,” the orc hisses, grabbing at the front of your chest and yanking you towards him, the hilt of his sword hitting you across the head, your head falling back, vision blurring, dark spots fading your gaze. You barely register the sword pressed at your throat.

He never gets the chance to finish.

A spear hits him in the back, and he falls dead on top of you. You grunt in response, and a cry leaves your lips as the movement causes his sword to slice you along the top of your chest, tearing the fabric. You want to push him off, get up and chase after Merry and Pippin, but you find your strength leaving you and your vision turning back.

The last thing you see is a figure standing over you. And for a moment, you believe you see Aragorn, somehow, someway, and his name leaves your lips in a desperate whisper, delirious beyond belief, before your vision completely turns black and everything fades.

-

“What business does a dwarf, a man and an elf have in the Riddermark?”

A dwarf, a man, a elf?

Head still pounding, you have enough sense to recognize the particular-ness of that grouping. And why it would mean so much to you. Why it would catch your attention.

Raising your head from the back of one of the men who’d saved you, cleaned you, and tended to you, you hadn’t even noticed that the lot of them had stilled their horses until that moment. They’re surrounding something, spears at the ready, but you can’t see what through the flock of men.

The man riding with you, notices your movement, and chances a quick glance back at you. “It’s nothing to worry about, my lady. We’ll keep you safe.”

And though you find his words endearing, and the fact that they’d done so much to help you in the beginning thoughtful too, something in your mind tells you you have nothing to fear regardless.

“Speak quickly!”

“Give me your name, horsemaster, and I shall give you mine.”

Gimli.

The realization dawns on you and your stomach flutters, hope flooding you.

You stir more, fighting the exhaustion in your body that begs of you to stay put and rest, moving to slide off the horse. The man riding with you immediately takes notice, and his stance with the spear falters as he tries to call out for you. “My-My lady, you must--”

You don’t respond. Don’t listen. All you mutter is, “Aragorn...” softly as you push your way through the men and horses, holding tightly to the cloak they’d provided you, ignoring the way your body aches and screams at you in response.

You find the leader, Eomer, off his horse, stance strong and threatening as he glowers down at the three men. Gimli, Legolas and... Aragorn.

“I would cut off your head, dwarf, if it--”

“Stop, please! Those are my friends!”

Your cry causes all eyes on you. Eomer turns to you in concern, calling out for you, but your attention is only on that of Aragorn. Despite the fact that two of your friends, Gimli and Legolas, are also there and seem just as shocked and relieved to see you as him -- it’s Aragorn you’d earned for. 

“Y/N...” He breathes, in disbelief.

You rush towards him, loosing your strength just as you reach him and he catches you, quick and strong, arms bounding around your waist and he holds you close. He grips you as if you’re afraid you’ll disappear from him that very moment, slip through his very fingers. And your fingers curl into the clothe of his shift, holding tightly.

His eyes trace your bruises, your injuries, before settling on your own, imploring. “I thought I lost you, Nin Meleth.”

Your fingers ghost across the skin of his cheek, basking in the sight of him. Your eyes water and your strength gives away as you smile up at him.

Then, a thought occurs to you, “Aragorn, Merry and Pippin...”

His eyes turn upwards, at Eomer, and you look at him imploringly.

He frowns at you. “We burned everything and everyone, left none alive,” he whispers, “we only just saw you. You could’ve burned with them.”

Aragorn sighs, and the looks upon Legolas and Gimli are heartbreaking.

“No,” you whisper, shaking your head as you push to your feet, holding tight to Aragorn. “They had to have gotten away. I tried to help, but then...” You trail off, shaking your head, “they got away. Please, Aragorn, we must look for them.”

He looks at Eomer, then his eyes soften at you, and fingers caressing your cheek, he nods.

“Of course, Nin Meleth.”

-

Let me know what you thought?

[justcourttee]

It’s More Than Just a Game Pt 1

@qualitypeacepainter sent me this wonderful idea for a Daminette Volleyball AU. It will definitely have several parts and I am so excited to write it so I hope you enjoy and I hope it’s something like what you had in mind :)

“So this is what a tournament looks like?” Marinette inhaled deeply “Do you smell that Nino? Air Salonpas. It’s so satisfying.”

She didn’t bother waiting for his response, she knew he was only here for her sake. Nobody could match her excitement for this day. It took her weeks, but she finally scrambled together a makeshift team so that she could enter at least one volleyball tournament before her middle school days were over. They had exactly three days of practice, but it didn’t matter.

Marinette was here to win.

“There are a lot of good teams here, please don’t get your hopes up Mari.” Adrien reached out, placing a hand on her shoulder as if he were attempting to pull her back down to reality. “Nino and I only know the basics, this isn’t anything like baseball.”

“Yeah Marinette, I know you gave us all a crash course, but this is way different from basketball.”

“And soccer!”

Her teammates all shared the same discouraged look on their faces. They knew how hard Marinette trained. Every day after school, she’d set to herself, pass to herself, spike at the school wall while the basketball team practiced. She was always helping them out, so the least they could do was help her form a team, but volleyball was something none of them knew much of.

“You guys worry too much! You’re all super athletic and the best friends a girl could ask for. There is absolutely nothing that could get in our way-”

Her sentence was cut short as a yell of excitement echoed through the gym. Instantly her eyes locked on the source of the commotion. Gotham Middle had entered and the crowd’s excitement was all focused on them. The teams around them begin to whisper, passing drills stopping as everyone took the chance to size up the competition.

“-it’s the King of the Court-”

“-I thought they weren’t entering this tournament-”

“-we’re so screwed-”

It was as if the world was crashing down around her. Marinette knew all about Gotham Middle. They were always featured in Sports Weekly as the top school in the volleyball world. In fact, there was even one student who was being scouted for the US National team. The King of the Court, Damian Al Ghul Wayne.

“I-I think I need to use the bathroom.” Marinette clutched her stomach, her face paling the longer she stared.

“Are you okay?”  Nino tried to offer her a hand to steady herself but she simply waved him off, stumbling past him to the hallway, her eyes dazed.

It’s just one team. It’s not like they would have to play them first. Of course, they would have a warm-up game, something to get her team in the groove. Yeah, there was no doubt in her mind. She came here to win, not worry about some top-ranked school.

Slowly she stood up, taking a few deep breaths, the bathroom door a mere ten steps away.

“I’ve never even heard of Dupont Transfer Middle.”

“Apparently it’s some French school that sends students wanting to study in America. It’s like a prep for American high school. They spend their eighth-grade year there to perfect their English and take any courses that wouldn’t transfer over.”

Marinette glanced over her shoulder. Sure enough, standing in front of the water fountain were a couple of members of Gotham Middle. The only reason they would be concerned with her school would be..no..fate wouldn’t be that cruel right?

“They barely have a six-man team, they don’t even have a libero. Did they actually think they had a chance?”

“Hey!” Three sets of eyes turned in her direction, instantly wavering her nerve. “Don’t underestimate us.”

As if on cue, her stomach lurched once more, taking any confidence she had with it. The Gotham players shared a glance before busting into laughter.

“Is she serious? I think she is.”

“Is that the captain label on her uniform? Maybe we should show her some respect.”

Instantly, they all straightened, mock saluting her before dissolving back into a fit of laughter. Marinette wanted to give them a piece of her mind, but her stomach refused to let up.

“Hey, benchwarmers. It’s time for the warm-up. Quit wasting time.”

The three silenced, their face a mixture of fear and awe. Who could command such respect? The coach? The manager? Marinette’s eyes strayed to where the voice came from, her stomach immediately dropping.

“The King,” she slapped her hand over her mouth, hoping she hadn’t said it loud enough to offend the guy in front of her. He didn’t even glance in her direction, his fierce glare completely focused on his teammates.

“Right away sir. Kasey, fill up two more.”

Damian Wayne. He couldn’t have been more 5’7”, but compared to Marinette’s 5’1”, she was in awe. It was impressive how he could command so much respect with just one look. She watched as he turned, taking a few steps toward the gym before pausing once more.

“Relax James, you act like we’ll need a lot. Just look at our opponent.”

It was as if they completely ignored his warning. Their giggles only enraged Marinette.

“What did you sa-”

“Did I stutter? Quit wasting time. You’re barely benchwarmers, quit acting as though you’re good enough to look down on your opponent.”

Marinette watched as they all paled, gathering their bottles before rushing back into the gym. None of them dared to make eye contact with him. Marinette released a chuckle of her own. He might be terrifying, but he really wasn’t a bad guy. Marinette relaxed as she stood, a friendly smile tugging at her lips.

“You know, I was just about to say something to them myself.”

His glare shifted from his retreating teammates to where she stood. Instantly she felt a shiver down her spine.

“You’re not even physically ready to sit the bench, don’t talk as if we’re on the same level. What are you even doing here anyway? Making memories? This is a tournament for people who are serious.”

“I am serious, my team is serious. We’re here to win and that means we start by defeating you.”

Damian took a step forward. Suddenly those six inches felt a lot taller than they were. Marinette fought with herself to not move away.

“You say that like it’s so easy.” The waves flowing off of him made her want to shrivel up, but her anger anchored her feet.

“I may not look like much, but I can jump. Really high. I will jump over any wall your team puts in front of me.”

He simply scoffed, only fueling her rage. Everyone always underestimates her, she hated it. She just wanted to be taken seriously in the sport she loved.

“You will simply be a stepping stone on the way to our championship.”

Before she could even respond, Damian turned his back, returning to the court, leaving her fuming in her spot. She wanted to declare war, rush him and take him out before he could even step onto the floor, but her stomach had other plans. Gripping her gut, Marinette turned to the bathroom, her face paler than before she left the gym.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

“Dudette! You were gone for like twenty minutes. It’s our turn to use the court. How do we warm-up?”

Marinette scanned the other side of the court to where Gotham Middle stood huddled, occasionally glancing back at her teammates. All except one. Damian stood alone, his arms crossed, his eyes closed. If she didn’t know any better, she would think he was meditating.

“Let’s work on passing. It’s something we all struggle with and I think we’ll really need it with this team.”

Five minutes passed and as they lined up for the beginning of the first set, Marinette’s eyes locked onto his from across the court. She already had a fire burning when she stepped into the gym, but it was as if he threw coal at her until she was ablaze ready to annihilate anything in her path.

“We will win.”

Her teammates shared a look of skepticism, but none voiced their concerns. They didn’t have to. It had only been ten minutes, but the score was already 12 - 0. The only one drenched in sweat was Marinette. The energy for the rest had been drained after the first service ace.

“Nino! Set me up!”

They were barely keeping the ball in the air with iffy passes that they were sure the ref was only letting slide out of pity. Nino was the only one who could decently set. It was nothing compared to the flawless and quick sets the King was serving on the other side, but Marinette could care less. All she wanted, was a chance to hit the ball.

His set was shaky, the ball wobbling as it flew, threatening to fall out of the sky at any moment. But to her, it was perfect. On instinct, Marinette jumped, her palm connecting to the ball. A satisfying thud came from the other side of the court as the gym silenced, trying to process what had happened.

“Did they just score?”

“Forget that, did you see how high she just jumped? She must’ve been a foot over the net!”

The whispers got louder until a single clap echoed from the crowd leading to another and another. As her feet touched the ground once more, Marinette immediately shot Damian a smug look. His mouth hung agape, his eyes a mixture of anger, and did she catch a hint of admiration? It was even more satisfying than the sound of the ball hitting the court.

“Why didn’t you get that?”

Marinette flinched as he turned on his teammates, his face fuming.

“Dude, you were in shock too! We didn’t think they had-”

“This is why you don’t underestimate anyone, ever. You give every team 100% of your effort.”

Damian turned back to the net, his eyes narrowing in on her. It took everything in her not to crumble as she picked up the ball, tossing it to Adrien. She had a kill. Her first one in a tournament and not even the terrifying demon behind her could stomp on her moment.

“Okay, guys! Here’s our chance. Let’s turn this around.”

Her excitement spread through the court, each of her teammate’s risking a smile. Their fire may not have been as bright as hers, but it was finally starting to shine through.

“You’re right Marinette. We can’t promise anything flashy like the King over there, but we will get you the ball. No matter what it takes.”

This was the chance she was waiting for, the chance to motivate her team. Now that she had their attention, she didn’t want to waste one second of it.

.  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

“It was a close game Marinette. Please don’t be upset.”

Marinette waved off her friends, her smile tight.

“They won in two sets and we barely hit double digits both times, but it’s okay guys, really. Thank you so much for helping me out. I’m going to stay for a while, so go on without me. I wanna watch some more matches.”

Her friends shared a look of skepticism, but one by one they slowly stood, all leaving until she was the only one left. Marinette sighed as she stood herself, working up the courage to step back into the gym.

“I told you it was useless.”

Marinette glanced over her shoulder only to meet an annoyingly familiar face blocking the entrance.

“Don’t you have something better to do than gloat oh glorious king?”

“Tt, I only wanted to point out that your jump was impressive, but volleyball is not a sport that you can get by with athleticism alone. You set yourself up for failure.”

It was Marinette’s turn to scoff as she brushed past him, intent on not speaking another word.

“A piece of advice for you. Drop volleyball while it’s all fun and games for you. High school has no place for a foreigner with no talent.”

“I’ll beat you.” Her voice was soft but cold. Damian didn’t speak a response, but he didn’t move either as if he were taunting her to continue. Marinette turned her head until she had a full view of his scowling face. “Whether it be when fall comes and my team smoothers yours or even if it takes ten, twenty, no fifty years, I will destroy you King of the Court. All I have to do is be the last one standing, right?”

He didn’t respond, only offered her a small grunt before exiting the doors. Her eyes followed him until the bus doors closed and Gotham Middle pulled out of the parking lot.

“I will get better, just you wait Damian Wayne.” Marinette took a step forward, her eyes zeroing in on the match in front of her. High School was only three months away. Three short months to make her declaration a reality.

She smiled, the fire in her eyes stirring with a deadly glint. 

“Next time we meet, I will destroy the King of the Court.”

Permanent Tag List:

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[elysianightsss]

When Dusk begins.

Part Three.

Warnings: swearing, none yet but there will be smut in upcoming chapters.

SERIES MASTERLIST.

You watched Ahkmen hug his mother tightly, this wasn’t a normal hug and she could tell. Asking him what was wrong he muttered a nothing and hugged tighter. He hadn’t seen her in thousands of years. Nobody could blame him for the tears in his eyes.

You however were busy eyeing your modern clothes that had been discarded on the floor with panic. Moving carefully not to interrupt the delicate moment, you pushed the clothes behind a pillar. You leant up against the post just as the zipper of your jeans scrapped across the floor. Both the ancient beings looked you. Before you could apologise the Queen spoke.

“Who’s this?” She inquired with a raised eyebrow but a soft look in her eyes. You stumbled over your words.

“I’m...Naat.” You smiled, ignoring Ahk frowning at you curiously.

“Named after the Goddess of justice and order. Do you live up to it?” She asked with amusement.

“I try to.” You cleared your throat nervously, thinking about how you just lied to the Queen of Egypt.

“And how do you know my son?” She stepped close to you, the sound of metal clinking together as she walked.

“She’s my suitor.” Ahk rushed the words out quickly, having no idea where they came from. You internally screamed at what he had just said.

“But what about...”

“I don’t wish to be wed to my sister. I choose her.” He spoke sternly but with a certain softness. His eyes bored into yours making you feel all tingly.

“If that’s what makes you happy and your father agrees.” She raised a hand to caress his cheek. Flashing you both a smile and leaving. You both stood in silence for a few seconds.

“Your suitor!” You whispered yelled at him. His eyes closed as he cringed.

“It was all I could think of.” His pleading eyes were testing you. Making you forget about your frustration.

“Great.” You huffed, pushing your tongue against the inside of your cheek.

“Why did you lie about your name?” He questioned with a inquisitive look.

“Y/N is a modern name. You told me to blend in, that’s what I was doing.” You gestured to the gown he had so graciously shoved into your hands earlier. He seemed to smile at this.

“I didn’t say earlier, you look beautiful. It suits you very well.” He nodded more to himself as his eyes once again scanned over your body.

“You’re going to have to stop doing that.” You muttered turning around to inspect the room. It’s was very spacious and open.

White pillars here and there, with gold engravings. Yellow vases with no flowers rested on what seemed to be gold end tables. The floor was a red marble that made your feet surprisingly warm. A golden bed frame in the shape of a large square was displayed in the middle of the room. The red bedding consisted of a single sheet and no pillows.

You examined the platform that the bed rested on. You walked up the steps that led to the bed. Reaching out to touch the sheets, it felt so soft reminding you of the exhaustion you were beginning to feel after today’s events. Unexpectedly you felt the gentle puff of air repeatedly hitting your exposed shoulder. The tropical scent once again consumed you making you feel a little weaker than before.

“Tired?” He mumbled close to the shell of your ear. You nodded closing your a eyes and taking a deep breath in.

“Exhale.” He reminded you. You did with a breathy chuckle.

“I know how to breath.” A playful tone filled your voice. He hummed in acknowledgment.

“This is my room. This is my bed, you may sleep here if you’re fatigued.” You turned around at his words, not expecting him to be so close. It surprised you making you fall down onto the bed in surprise. He let out a laugh as you sat embarrassed. You poked him in the stomach with a laugh of your own.

“I must admit, I am pretty tired.” You rubbed your face with your hands.

“You sleep, it’s night now anyway. I’m going to find my Father.” He began marching to the door.

“Wait! why?”

“I need to talk to him and subtly ask him if he could know anything about this.” He said.

“You’re going to subtly ask your Father if he knows anything about time travel?” You scoffed.

“Yes. Go to sleep.” You straightened up and his tone. Not missing the little smirk that graced his lips as he left the room.

“Men.” You rolled your eyes.

You closed your eyes for what felt like a few minutes. When you woke Ahkmenrah was staring out into the distance. The desert surely wasn’t that interesting. Your feet carried your over to his beautiful figure.

“What are you looking at?” You ask intrigued. He turned to you with a smile.

“Morning.” You frowned.

“How long did I sleep for?”

“All night. You were still asleep when I came from back from-“

“Asking your father, how did that go?” He chuckled at the way you felt oh so comfortable to cut him off.

“He didn’t divulged any useful information.” He sighed walking over to the bed and sitting down.

“Oh. Have you slept?” He shook his head at the question. You thought for a moment. “Do you sleep?” He looked at your with an amused smile. “I just figured since the whole being awake at night, and yanno not existing for four thousand years.”

“I’ve had a nap now and then. That’s mostly because there’s nothing to do at the museum.” He looked back out at the desert, right over your shoulder.

“Nothing to do? It’s a museum! Explore, learn.” He huffed a tiny laugh, his eyes switching back to yours.

“I’ve explored every inch of that place, learned all there is to learn.” He scanned over your figure for a moment. “You’re new. Unexpected. Something I haven’t acquired the knowledge of, yet.”

Yet.

“There’s not much to acquire.” You shook your head, your lips turned upwards.

“That’s not what I see.” He mumbled.

“Oh my god. I just realised, if we’re here in this...your room, then where is the you from this time?” You raised your eyebrows. His eyes widened with realisation. A knock interrupted your worry.

“Your highness, your Father wishes to see you and your suitor in the throne room.” A voice from outside the door spoke and then it was silent again.

You walked through the palace, arms linked. Ahk kept your close in case of danger or an ‘attack’ as he so graciously put it. Servants, men and women dropped to the floor and bowed when you both walked by. It was a strange feeling to have someone bow to you, but when you reminded yourself that it wasn’t you they were kneeling to, it made things less awkward.

“That’s,” you frowned when you had stopped walking, following Ahkmenrah’s eye line, you spotted his brother, Kahmunrah. And his two sisters, Keket and the youngest Hehet. You realised how strange and hard it must be to see your family after so long. Turning to stand in front of Ahk, you cup his face tilting it so his eyes met yours.

A soft smile graced your lips, your eyes held such sincerity that it made Ahk’s breath hitch when he stared into them; acknowledging the beautiful swirls of colour that always drowned him when gazed at you. He was so enthralled that he almost missed the sound of your sweet voice.

“Everything’s okay.” He couldn’t help but lean in closer, as if in a trance. The dim ambiance and warmth of the blazing fires that lit the hallway. The silky look of your hair when it moved gently in the breeze. The velvety touch of your skin against his. He couldn’t help but fall deep under your spell. Leaning closer.

“Ahkmen!” You both jumped back at the sound of his mothers voice. He quickly re-adjusted himself before linking yours arms once again and striding into the room. Such confidence surrounded him as he walked it made you feel small. Both of you kneeled before the King and Queen of Egypt. A booming voice bellowed throughout the hall.

“My son has chosen his wife! Today we celebrate! Next week they marry!” The room was filled with cheers.

Your stomached did a flip, looking at Ahk who was already staring at you.

This was fucking insane.

[toomanyf4ndoms7]

Mortal Kombat: Born of deception: Deceivers Demise.

Summary: Shujinko faces against his greatest mistake. But there is more to victory than brute strength.

Chapter List.

Chapter List part two.

Onaga called in his army of mummies to keep Shujinko’s allies busy. They were faring well with their combined strength, but Onaga’s army refused to stay down for long.

Inside the sapphire barrier, Shujiko was having a difficult time facing his opponent. No matter how powerful or numerous his strikes were, they did little damage to Onaga, if any at all. A single punch to Shujinko’s jaw sent him skidding back and crashing against the barrier. The old warrior got to his feet, finding a nightmarish sight.

The room swirled and shifted, Onaga’s form growing monstrous and animalistic with overlapping voices.

‘Is something wrong, Shujinko?”

Shujinko looked around frantically as the monstrous dragon approached before he remembered one of his teachings from Kenshi.

There is more than one way to see…

Shujinko closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and shut out all excess noise. He heard stomping from behind, opened his eyes, and whirled around with a blast of telekinetic energy to Onaga’s chest. He must’ve used the chaos kamidogu to make a nightmarish illusion.

“A skilled manoeuvre…”

Shujiko swung around with a fist, only for his fist to collide against a new barrier that seemed to close in on him.

“But not enough…”

Shujinko felt stone encase his feet, and the barrier slowly closing in. He held out his arms to try and push the barrier away before he remembered another of his learned abilities. Closing his eyes, Shujiko sunk into the ground covered in a purple aura, before reappearing from the air with a kick to Onaga’s head. Onaga stumbled back, but likely in surprise rather than pain.

Shujinko dashed forwards, intent on pressing his advantage, before he was grabbed from behind by a large undead creature. Flesh hung from his face and bloody bones poked out from gaping holes. Before he could try and escape, Shujinko saw a hailstorm of arrows formed from violet energy heading straight towards him. None pierced his flesh, but the combined force was enough to exhaust his already taxed stamina.

The old warrior was unceremoniously dropped to the ground, shakily getting to his feet as Onaga summoned a mighty glowing broadsword using the Outworld kamidogu.

“I will grant you one more chance to surrender and join my glorious cause.”

Shujinko snarled at his opponent, defiant to the end.

“Go. To. Hell.”

As Onaga approached the weakened old man, intent on finishing him off with a single stab, a chained kunai suddenly speared through the Outworld kamidogu. Onaga fell to his knees in pain, his weapon vanishing into the void.

Shujinko looked to the kamidogu, they must be the key to his invulnerability. Without them…

Shujinko had an idea. He ran over to the chaosrealm kamidogu, dodging the blast of fire from the recovered dragon king as he swung his fist into it. He did this to each of the kamidogu one by one, finally shattering the orderrealm kamidogu and breaking the barrier.

Onaga was slowly recovering from the disconnection, growling in rage.

“You… think you can stop me?! The old fool who failed to understand his own destiny?!”

Shujinko turned to his allies. Warriors from all different backgrounds, with different abilities, no doubt differing goals. But they all shared the same purpose. He called to them.

‘All of you, lend me your strength!”

Holding out his palm, Shujinko drew chi of various colours from the warriors, imbuing himself with their strength and healing his wounds.

The rainbow light flowed around his body as he rushed in and rained blow after blow upon the weakened dragon king. Onaga was unable to react as a powerful punch sent him flying back.

“This is your last chance, Onaga.”

The dragon king growled in defiance. Shujinko charged energy into his palm, and ran in with a yell. But before his fist could pierce Onaga’s flesh, a red shockwave burst from Onaga’s body.

His entire body glowed red, a yell of wrath and agony escaped him. He held out a palm in rage, slowly marching to the fool who dared to thwart his grand scheme.

“SHUJINKO!”

The elderly warrior plunged his fist into Onaga’s chest, just as Onaga’s form was engulfed by a red explosion of energy.

When the dust settled, all that remained of Onaga was an unconscious reptilian figure in green garb. Shujinko lay on the ground, panting, but conscious. His more heroic allies helped him to his feet.

“The battle is over. Thank you all.”

As everyone gave their gratitude, Havik burst from the crowd.

“Where’s Onaga? Didn’t you kill him?”

Shujinko pointed to the reptilian ninja.

“Something happened as we fought. A red light engulfed him, all that remains is this… creature.”

Havik looked at the creature in what might be disappointment before his tone instantly snapped to joy.

“Quite unexpected… wonderful, chaos reigns! Farewell.”

Havik left the room, Kabal motioning for his two recruits to join. Kobra put up two middle fingers as he slowly walked away. Fujin shot a small gust of wind to trip him up as he left. Kai leaned in with a smirk.

“Nice one.”

With the battle over, Shujinko turned to his allies.

‘Thanks to our efforts, the realms have been saved. You may all return to your own desires.”

The group of warriors left the area, Shujinko sparing a final glance at his fallen foe before departing.

His mistake had been corrected.

[alj4890]

Hi you are awesome! Got an ask. What do you think will happen if the gang found out that Barthelemy along the others involved was behind Queen Eleanor's deat, just after days of him threatening to take the Princess and be a regent?I want to know Liam's POV on it.

Aww!!! Thank you ☺Honestly, I think Liam would have figured it out when he realized the goblet was from both Godfrey and Barthelemy. He was the one to devote his free time to secretly study the effects of poisons and ways it could be administered. Once the group found his mother's secret room, I think it would have all come together in his mind. For your request though, I will try and show Liam's reaction if he discovered the connection after Barthelemy's threat. Plus, I think this is one circumstance where he wouldn't want to involve the others. To be able to capture his mother's murderer would be something he would want to do himself with the help of his king's guards.

@gkittylove99 @darley1101 @krsnlove @kingliam2019 @texaskitten30 @yourmajesty09 @mom2000aggie @ofpixelsandscribbles @twinkleallnight @lodberg @twinkleallnight @amandablink @neotericthemis @mm2305

Masterlist

Subversion

"I've got you." Liam gently took his wife's trembling form into his arms.

The nightmares were getting out of hand.

Ever since Maxwell's father had threatened to take their daughter from them, Riley's nerves were shot. She tried so hard to put on a brave face during the day, but when night came across the land, she fell apart.

Tears slipped down her cheeks as she held fast to Liam. Her breaths hitched at the thought of Barthelemy Beaumont winning in the end.

"How did he get so many of the court on his side?" She whispered. "After all we've done for them!"

Liam rested his cheek on top of her head. "I don't know."

"He's been gone for what...fifteen, twenty years or so?" She grumbled. "We saved the country from Justin. We secured the throne with Eleanor's birth." Her anger began to overcome her fear. "And these traitors do this to us?!"

"The court serves its on purposes." He explained. "They always have. It is rare to find a truly selfless noble amongst the group."

Riley left his arms to reach for a tissue on her nightstand. "I saw how selfish they could be during your bride search."

She blew her nose softly before a frown firmed her lips. "I mean, the whole reason Bertrand wanted me to win you was so House Beaumont could be restored, reputation wise. He said he also wanted to see us happy, but now I doubt it."

Liam listened quietly as she went through her nightly rants of those that had betrayed them. She then went into a litany of how ridiculous it was that they had to travel with a one year old to their homes in the hopes of swaying their fickle minds back in their favor.

Before long, she had worn herself out and began to doze off. He held her until he felt her slow deep breaths. Easing his arms away, he crept out of their bedroom.

As had been his nightly ritual for the past year, he first went to the nursery.

His lips curved over his one year old daughter's tendency to cocoon herself in her blankets. Eleanor's head and that of the purple stuffed bunny she loved to sleep with were the only things visible.

He tenderly brushed her hair from her forehead as he gazed upon his most prized possession. His inner resolve hardened with the vow that nothing would ever take her from him and Riley.

On his way out of the nursery, he paused to pet Chance. The sweet corgi seemed to almost understand that something was going on and that he needed to guard the little princess. Lady Luck and their puppies were curled up at the foot of the toddler bed, being the next line of defense if Chance failed.

Liam quietly closed the door and continued downstairs. He nodded briefly to the guards that were stationed at various points along the halls and staircase. None seemed surprised by their king up at such a late hour.

Why should they, when he had been doing this for a year now?

Liam met Bastien in his study. The older man handed him a steaming cup of coffee, before sitting down across from him.

The workspace between them was covered with pictures, reports, and test results.

"Anything new?" Liam asked.

"I received this from one of my underground informants." Bastien handed over a set of photographs. "And I uncovered this report through the help of the queen mother. We came across this while going through your late father's personal files."

Liam's lips firmed into a thin line as he flipped through the old photographs. Barthelemy had made a wide variety of friends during his supposed' "coma".

"Is that...?" Liam handed the picture over.

"It is, sir." Bastien reached across the table for another set of photographs. "Lord Barthelemy along with Godfrey had been developing close ties with both the Nevarkis family and those that raised the leader of The Sons of the Earth."

"I see." Liam tapped his fingers against his mug. "So our initial theory was correct. Godfrey didn't act alone when my mother was poisoned."

"In all honesty sir, I never thought he had the stomach for such an act." Bastien frowned over the picture of the late Queen Eleanor that also showed Jackson Walker in the background. "Of the two friends of your father, I suspected Barthelemy."

Liam looked up. "You did?"

Bastien shrugged. "I was the junior agent when the first attack on your mother failed. Jackson told me only what was relevant." His eyes narrowed in memory. "He said it was for her protection that I wasn't told more. Now I think he and your mother were hoping to not put anyone else at risk with what they were uncovering."

Liam focused once more on the last picture his mother had taken. It was the very ball in which she received the poisoned golden goblet. He felt that familiar breath aching pain in his heart. She had missed so much of his life. His growing up, his marriage, his child.

He wanted to destroy the men responsible for this. He wanted vengeance for his mother and all the lives affected by her death.

He wanted them to suffer as he had. As his late father had.

They deserved it. They deserved so much more agony than a mere prison sentence or swift death could give.

He knew it was wrong, but he hoped Barthelemy resisted being captured. Then the king's guards could use other methods to apprehend him.

Godfrey's capture had not given him the satisfaction that Liam needed. Something had always felt off when he thought of the fastidious former Duke of Karlington. He just couldn't believe the man had acted alone.

"I believe we have enough evidence with this last report." Bastien handed him another sheet of paper. "Queen Amalas sent this along with her regards."

Liam read through the many sheets.

This was it. This was the final nail to Barthelemy Beaumont's coffin.

Liam stood up. "Prepare the guards. We are going to Ramsford immediately."

*****************

Duchy Ramsford, at the first blush of dawn...

"We have every inch surrounded, sir." Bastien whispered.

"Good." Liam squared his shoulders. He tried to itch his side, but encountered nothing but the Kevlar vest his guards insisted he wear. "Let's go."

The pair, flanked by four more guards walked up to the front door and banged on it.

A sleepy servant appeared, perplexed to see the king standing on the steps.

Liam and Bastien pushed past him, stating they were there for kingdom business, and began to climb the stairs.

Their footsteps were silent as they checked each room they came to.

Having finally come to the family wing of the manor, they opened the door to the room where the culprit slept.

Before the old man had a chance to come fully awake, he was handcuffed and shoved out into the hallway.

"What is the meaning of this?" Barthelemy yelled. "How dare you come into my room in such a manner?"

Bertrand and Savannah rushed out, only to stop in surprise at the sight before them.

"Barthelemy Beaumont." Liam's voice held a sinister edge. "For crimes against the royal family and Cordonia, I hereby sentence you to death."

"What?" Barthelemy dropped his easy going mien he had maintained since he first reappeared.

Something more dark and evil took over his features. "You do not have the power to do that, King Liam. You gave the Council those rights. Now that you're family is under attack, you think getting rid of me will stop them from taking the princess away?" He snorted in derision. "Even if you find a way to kill me, others will make certain neither you nor that pitiful excuse for a queen ever see Princess Eleanor again."

"I do not think any noble will fight my decision once they see your list of crimes Liam's blue eyes blazed with fury.

He began to approach the man who had formulated the plan to kill his mother. The man who had blackmailed numerous nobles so that they were forced to support him. The very man trying once more to destroy his family and take the crown from him.

Barthelemy snarled at him "You know nothing of my supporters." His chin lifted in triumph. "There are many outside of Cordonia who would love to see me take the throne as Prince Regent."

Liam's slow, deliberate steps caused Barthelemy to shrink back. He stumbled over his own feet as he was backed into a corner.

His eyes were wild as he looked for anyone who might possibly be on his side.

"Bertrand! As the Duke of Ramsford, you must stop him before he--"

His son shook his head. "House Ramsford has always stood behind King Liam and Queen Riley." He felt Savannah's hand slip into his to help him through this. "Anyone, be them blood relation or friend, who does not will become an enemy of this duchy."

Barthelemy began to spew insults upon his son. His hatred and disgust was then directed to both of his progeny having failed him in every possible way.

Bertrand didn't flinch or even appear to hear the diatribe directed towards him. He instead reported his own investigation into his father's activities.

"Forgive me, your majesty." His voice was hoarse with emotion. "I had to make it look like I had truly turned against you and our queen to make my father more open about his plans. I have all the information you might need for what he intended to do to take the princess away in my bedroom's safe."

"Traitor!" Barthelemy struggled anew against his handcuffs and the guards holding him. "How dare you betray your own blood--"

Liam punched him, knocking out the old man with an uppercut. A blessed silence followed his drop.

Bertrand stared dispassionately upon his father's crumpled form, then turned on his heel, leading Bastien to the safe.

Liam took long, deep breaths to calm himself down. The urge to continue to beat the man at his feet was strong.

He remembered every tear shed in the dark over his mother. Every need for a hug from her. Every holiday memory without her. Every single worry and secret he had longed to share with her.

He then thought of the miserable years he and Riley would have had without their daughter. Every single moment without her sweet smile. Missing each milestone. Being denied the right to even speak to her. No hugs. No kisses for skinned knees or bad dreams. No playtime. No chance of checking on her during the night.

He never knew he could hate a man as much as he did Barthelemy Beaumont.

How had such a man fathered two of Cordonia's most loyal noblemen?

Liam realized he should be grateful for the late Annabelle Beaumont and her sweetness overshadowing all that this man tried to teach them.

It would have hurt even more so, if Maxwell and Bertrand had betrayed him.

"Your majesty?"

Liam lifted his eyes and took the folder filled with all Bertrand had uncovered. It was enough to put his father away for multiple life sentences.

"Sir, I hope..." Bertrand's shoulders drooped. "Do you think Riley will understand why I did what I did?"

"I do." Liam placed a grateful hand on his shoulder. "Thank you, for this and for your continued loyalty."

Bertrand bowed his head, unable to speak from his own relief that it was at last over.

The guards dragged a still unconscious Barthelemy down the stairs and into the back of an armored truck.

Liam and Bastien followed close behind.

The king took a deep breath of the early morning's crisp air. The sun beginning to shine reminded him that this was indeed a new day...one in which he could return to his family victorious, knowing they were once more safe.

[skellebonez]

Hey, hey Skelle. 41and 51 with Spider Queen/Macaque/Wukong with the three adjusting to Spider Wukong and the first two trying not to be obvious that they're having a crisis.

Oh I know these two are absolute fucking disasters after Spider Wukong happens. They are the biggest bi/pan disasters and Wukong knows it. Here is some very important artwork that you need to be aware of (because I use them as references).

Spoilers for, well. Everything.

Can you teach me how to do that?/Can you two save the kissing for later?

"You did this," Macaque said bluntly to the Spider Queen, not taking his eyes off the display in front of them. "You did this and I don't know whether to thank you or hate you."

"I am aware," she sighed, only looking away to look down at the four armed and four eyed spider monkie beside her. "Is this a formal complaint?"

"Take a wild guess," Macaque managed out out, resting his head in his palm as he tried to stop the swishing of his tail.

"You're hopeless."

She turned back to watch Sun Wukong effortlessly move things around his island. It was always easy for him, it would take no effort for the Monkey King to move a tree with one hand. Except now... now he was a six armed and massively tall Spider Monkie just like Macaque. Only taller. With two more arms.. And always shirtless. And as he displayed this massive amount of strength he was gently grooming one of his many monkey subjects so carefully in his extra arms.

A dangerous sight for his two partners to behold.

~

Things had calmed down a lot since, well, everything that happened. Most of their lives were much less hectic with Spider Queen and her family combining with Team MK and the White Bone Spirit finally dealt with.

But that didn't mean they could afford to just relax all the time. There were still enemies out there, more so with the side switching and the reveal of MK being Spider Queen's son, and given the transformations both immortal monkies went through they needed to stretch and move around to keep themselves in decent shape. So that was how they found themselves in a light sparring match, working out excess energy and finding it more enjoyable than they had in centuries.

"You're getting rusty, Peaches!" Macaque teased, using his four arms to cartwheel sideways and then backwards with much more ease than he ever had before. "Come on, you have to have some kind of trick up your non-existent sleeves!"

Spider Queen watched from the sidelines in the shade, shaking her head at the terrible banter. "Speak for yourself."

Wukong didn't say anything, just smirked and rushed at his partner. Macaque strafed to the side, easily dogging the kicks and punches and finding himself let laughter bubble up as the fight continued. It had been so long since their last spar and he felt almost as good as he had ever been!

And then Wukong gently grabbed his face.

Distantly he felt four hands wrap around his four wrists and that was all the warning he got before Wukong flipped them sideways and Macaque landed backwards in the dirt.

He froze, the six armed spider monkie's top set of hands cupping his face like it was made of glass. He was suddenly very aware of exactly how close the other's face was to his own, how the lighter hair of his sideburns blended into his regular hair now, how bright green the other's eyes were and how wide his pupils were (was that normal? he couldn't think well enough to remember), and how excessively tall he was. He was so tall.

"I win," Wukong announced, hands now cradling the back of Macaque's head to keep it from hitting the dirt and wrists still held captive in his hands. He chuckled as he rolled them over again, so easy and so strong and Macaque felt like his own limbs were putty as Wukong sat back against a nearby boulder. He only watched with a wry smile as Macaque fell forward, hand out between two of his own arms to catch himself before he face planted into the other's chest. He felt Wukong let his wrists go, his middle arms on either side going to rest on his waist in some fashion and one of hi lower hands running up and down his back with claws digging through the coarse fur.

He didn't move the hands cradling his face.

"You're cute like this, you know."

Wukong said this with a soft low chuckle, and Macaque tensed up as he felt the taller's hand move from running along his spine to trail up the back of his tail from base to tip. His now massive stature making this a much easier endeavor, especially when Macaque's traitorous tail lifted of it's own accord to meet the touch against it.

All Macaque could do was tense as his fur poofed up, ears flared out, face flushed red, and an odd choking noise that sounded like it was mixed with a deflating tire escaped his mouth.

"Oh no... oh no, he has it baaaaaad," Spider Queen breathed from a distance, unable to hide the flush of her own face. "I made him more powerful... he's doing this on purpose, I know it."

Eventually Wukong stood the two of them up and had to run off to take care of some of the baby monkeys on their island home, leaving Macaque to stand there. And watch. As he left.

Then he immediately covered his face with his hands and screamed into them.

Spider Queen snuck away from Macaque later in the day, finding the courage to ask Wukong "Can you teach me how to do that?"

He laughed but obliged.

~

Spider Queen wasn't unused to moving around on her real legs, she'd done it before. Like when she had tricked Pigsy (and Tang by association) at the food market that long long time ago. But she had relied on her mech so much since then and had been ripped from it so violently, torn from it in a way that wasn't supposed to disconnect her from it at all, and then spent so much time in... whatever plane she was trapped in within the Trigram Furnace that walking again was difficult at times.

Then again... maybe if she hadn't insisted to herself that she needed to wear longer dressed and massive pumps and wedges and heels to make herself taller, so that she wouldn't have to crane her neck to look at her partners and so they wouldn't have to strain their backs to look at her... maybe she wouldn't be in this position.

Not that she was complaining. Oh no. Complaints about this exact scenario left the second it started.

She'd followed at least some of her partner's insistence that she stop wearing stilettos until she got the hang of safer heels. She was wearing wedges this time, still tall and extreme and probably not the best for someone still recovering. But she managed well enough.

Until she stumbled standing from the stool at Pigsy's, her legs more tired from the walk then she had expected.

It almost felt like it happened in slow motion. She was headed face first toward the floor. Then two arms grabbed her from behind, then another two, then when her momentum stopped a fifth and sixth brushed her hair away from her face as Wukong stood her up back onto shaky feet.

"Are you alright?" He asked, his grip loose but not entirely letting go yet. "Do your legs hurt?"

"N-no," she stuttered out, trying her best to keep her face impartial and to not let the blush forming take hold. "They're just... tired, I suppose."

"That's good," Wukong said, shaking his head after a moment. "Well, it's not good they're tired, but still. How about I help you get home?"

"UH... ok?" She said softly, and instantly she was off the ground.

And Wukong was off the ground.

They were both off the ground, the Monkey King lounged lazily on his cloud and Spider Queen cradled carefully in two of his sets of arms with her head resting on his chest. And... oh no. This was nice actually.

She felt her face flush more.

"Comfortable?" Wukong asked, tone low and soft with a smirk on his face as he moved it closer and she knew that he was doing it on purpose again. His pupils were oddly dilated as well... spiders and monkeys didn't do that, they weren't cats, but this was the monkey king and demons purred so... who knows.

"Yes," was the high pitched squeak that escaped her, and who knows what would have happened if a loud cough had not sounded from Pigsy.

Oh right. They were in his shop still.

"Can you two save the kissing for later? When you're not blocking the entrance to my shop, maybe?"

Wukong only laughed and zipped out of the store on his cloud, hugging Spider Queen more firmly against his chest.

... she needed to wear even more heels if this is where it got her.

~

The two were pressed into and laid their heads on either side of the partner's chest, the couch almost just a smidgen too small for all of them. But Wukong had fallen asleep in between them and they didn't have the hearts to wake him up. His head rested on one of his top arms, the other lazily slung over the back of the couch, while the other two wrapped around Spider Queen and Macaque softly.

Protectively.

One of Macaque's own arms was reaching over to hold Spider Queen's hand softly.

"Thank you," Macaque said after a moment. "I am with drawing my formal complaint."

She couldn't help but laugh.