#this just in: fics that only appeal to two people on earth <3 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hardskz · 5 years ago

Text

bow down.

pairing — bang chan x genderneutral! reader

genre — modern royalty au, drama-ish, smut; sexual tension-ish, hand kink, brat tamer! chan, degradation, leg humping, humiliation

synopsis — you have eyes. prince bang chan is a whole snack. but you also have too high of an ego and can’t seem to accept that prince chan isn’t full of himself unlike the other dozen members of any royal family you’ve met before. alternatively, this is the disney channel movie ‘princess protection program’ but make it porn only.

note — this fic with a wc of 7k+ does not include any spoilers to the movie and you don’t even have to know what the movie is about you’ll get the gist as you read. ngl half of this is from one of my drafts from like 3 years ago and i never continued it so here i am turning it into filth hahahah (and i needed a fresh idea for brat tamer chan and hence why i think the sfw part is better written than the nsfw lmao) rip also pls accept this as the follower milestone gift and 1 year anniversary special :’)

“I’m pretty sure I asked for a puppy for my birthday — which was three months ago may I add — not for a new roommate?”

You look back and forth between Youngjae and the stranger sitting on the couch who is staring back at you with a curious expression. He looks around your age and you admit, his face isn’t the kind of face that makes you thank your parents that genetics did a decent job on you. It’s quite the opposite, actually.

His face is the type of face that makes you ask your parents why genetics didn’t do a better job on yours. Okay, you haven’t reached that stage of visual inferiority yet but that’s mainly because he is dressed in clothes that were trendy in the 15th century or something. The garments clinging to his skin look like a bad fusion of a suit (which college student wears a suit in their free time?) and the ridiculous costume the marching band at your former high school had worn whenever a football game was up. And those weird golden pins clipped on the blazer makes it seem as if he used to be in the marines or comes from a royal bloodline or—

Oh.

“Don’t mind my cousin, your Highness. (y/n)’s humor has always been questionable.” Youngjae sends you a glare before he puts on his sweetest smile — you know, the act he puts on whenever he tries to negotiate a bonus with his boss or woo his date — and opts to ignore your presence. “Anyway, since we are dealing with a more serious issue at hand than originally expected, we need to give you a makeover to—“

Before he gets to finish his sentence, you violently tug him away from the prince and despite Youngjae thrashing around and complaining, you manage to send the guest a forced smile and leave his vision. The moment you let go of Youngjae in the neighboring room, he readjusts his collar. “What? Couldn’t you have waited once I was done? Also, was it necessary to crinkle my collar this much?” he hisses but you get straight to the point.

“What is he doing here?”

“Uh, sitting on the couch?”

“That’s not what I mean.” you grit your teeth and land a punch on his arm. “What is he doing here?”

Youngjae looks over your shoulder, making sure that what he’s about to say next is only heard by you. “Prince Chan is,” he hesitates, unsure how to approach his topic. You know it’s taking up his last nerves to conclude a logical explanation as the tip of his tongue pokes out of the corner of his lips; a habit he has adapted ever since he stopped chewing on his bottom lip. “The predicament he’s in is worse than we expected. Well, his dad is partially at fault because he forgot to tell us this not-so-small critical detail that—“

“Youngjae, you’re rambling.”

“The point is.” he sighs and gives you a distressed look as if he already knows you’re not going to like the information at all. “We can’t send him to the family in Goyang, the place he was originally going to stay in. He’s one of the more extreme cases and the Board agreed that he had to live with one of the active combatants to ensure his safety.”

Silence engulfs the kitchen and you know he’s waiting for you to count two and two together.

“He’s going to live here,” you deadpan eventually and Youngjae nods in confirmation.

“I know you’re not very happy—“

“Not very happy is underwhelming.” You earn a flick against your forehead and yelp in pain as you over the spot he just hit. “Ow! I was just stating the truth!”

“Will you stop interrupting me? Geez. Yes, I know that you’re not happy at all. I know that you’re not a huge fan of the majority of our family working in this business. But please do me this one favor or so help me God— try to be nice to him for the next year.”

“He’s staying for a year?” you shriek and in the blink of an eye, Youngjae clamps your mouth shut.

“Can you keep it down?!” he whisper-yells, then retreats his hand and reverts to a conversational tone with a frown. “It’s just a year, okay? Y’know, just... say hi to him whenever you see him. Act civilized.”

You grimace as he stresses his last words like you didn’t know what human decency was. The longer you keep the petrified expression on your face, the more it turns into a staring contest between the two of you. Just as if you were each other’s reflection, you mimic his actions and vice versa. When Youngjae squints, you squint. When you shoot him a glare, he returns it. It all boils down to the final blink that Youngjae feints and you’re the first to look away.

“Okay fine! I’ll try to behave,” you mumble in defeat.

A satisfied smile makes its way on Youngjae’s lips. “It’s always nice negotiating with you.”

Being born into a family where the majority works for the royalty protection program (short: RPP or as you like to stylize it: argh-pee-pee), also known as the secret service for people with crowns on their heads, comes with many perks. In your eyes, this privilege comes with many, many downsides that aren’t worth the advantages. Sure, there is the one or other occasion where you can waltz around in fancy evening attire and attend an actual ball, but overall, it’s a pain in the ass.

Even though it’s prohibited to openly declare that you work for the RPP, the news always finds its way out. Usually, it takes approximately a week for pretty much half of the neighborhood to find out. And it certainly isn’t nice hearing whispers about your dad being that guy working for the program whenever you step out of your house, which is ultimately why you moved in with your cousin Youngjae. (Housing in your small town wasn’t really affordable for a dirt poor college student after all!)

Youngjae has always been your favorite cousin out of the... whatever number of cousins you have. But here’s the thing. He also works for the RPP.

However, somehow he managed to — and up to this day it still remains a mystery to you how on earth he did that — keep his job a secret. Especially with his tendency to dish out the worst kinds of secrets when he’s slightly tipsy. Frankly, you once considered printing out the image of a trophy for that remarkable feat.

With your dad and cousin both active in that business (because organization sounds too shady), it’s not the first time you meet a prince, so you already know how the entire thing works. The concept is quite simple; they get sent to a household but before they settle in and take on a fake identity until their circumstances have improved, they undergo a makeover. Most of the time, it ends up in the glow up you secretly crave but in Prince Chan’s case, you suppose he can’t get any more attractive.

Oh boy. You’re in for a ride.

You’re busy slicing bell peppers for the meal you were cooking when both your cousin and the prince enter the kitchen and Youngjae explicitly demands you to pay them attention. You don’t react immediately, but the moment he threatens to swipe the knife away from you, you perk up and set your desire to prepare your fried rice aside.

“(y/n), uh, hi? I’m Bang Chan and I’ll be your new housemate for a year. I hope we can get along.” Chan recites his introduction without any mistakes and earns a way too brotherly pat on the back from Youngjae, considering that they just met this morning. It’s truly amazing how fast Youngjae can get people to warm up to him.

Chan is stripped out of his weird clothes and instead, looks like he threw on the next best thing lying around in his room. Nonetheless, despite the seemingly little effort that was put into the outfit, it looks oddly good. The stylists didn’t seem to do much to his hair and just parted his bangs a little, so one could catch a slight glimpse of his forehead. It’s just a small detail, but you find yourself liking his current appearance much more appealing than before, though you’re pretty sure his clothes played a major part in your previous distaste.

“Remember Jihyo?” Youngjae interrupts your train of thought. “She’s Chan’s relative. And because I’m the genuine friend who loves to help her out, I decided to agree to this after she went down on her knees and begged me to let Chan live with us for a while—“

“I’m not interested in your blown up, fictional background stories, thank you very much.” you backtrack. “Wait. Did you say Jihyo? Seriously? Jihyo is his alibi?” Of course, you remember Jihyo. It’s quite difficult to forget her when Youngjae used to swoon about her at every hour of the day, back when they were a thing. Besides, she still stops by every few months.

“C’mon, you have to admit there is a similar vibe between them!”

You furrow your brows and inspect Chan a second time. Your gaze wanders back to Youngjae and then returns to Chan anew. It’s obvious that the latter is feeling as if he were up for auction and you can’t really blame him for feeling so uncomfortable. You’ve heard from a few friends that if looks could kill, you’d have the highest killing record.

There’s no similar vibe in your view, but for the sake of entertaining Youngjae’s thoughts: “He does seem similar to Jihyo.”

“Told ya. But back to more important matters,” Youngjae coughs and wraps his arm around your shoulder to pull you closer, but it somehow seems as if he’s opting to strangle you. “My duties are calling, so I won’t be back until late. You look like you could need some help with cooking, by the way. I’m sure Chan right here is willing to help you!”

“I’m almost done though—“ you choke when he tightens his embrace. By now, his arm is no longer hugging your shoulder, but rather crushing your throat.

“You look like you could need some help,” he repeats, this time with added urgency. “It’d be a great opportunity for you to bond since you’ll also share pretty much all classes at uni. Did you know, he has the same major as you! Besides, it’d be a very useful life experience for him if he helped you with cooking.”

“Of course, how fun!” you hiss, voice going an octave higher from the lack of oxygen. “I already said that I’m painfully delighted about that, so you can let me go now, Youngjae!”

A sneer and a jab in his arm later, Youngjae finally takes his leave. That nasty liar, leaving an hour earlier than his schedule stated. You know that silently cursing at him isn’t going to make your problems dissolve because that’d be a dream come true.

“Listen, let me get things straight.” you sigh, picking up the knife to resume chopping your vegetables. Youngjae may have ordered you to act civilized, but having eye contact with Chan when you’ve been starving for the past hour isn’t your priority. Food doesn’t make itself. “I don’t have any intention of getting close to you and I expect the same from you. Don’t step a foot into my room, don’t talk to me unless absolutely necessary, and don’t think I’ll run around and do your chores or cook your meals like one of your little servants. Just because you’re a prince doesn’t mean you’ll be treated like one under this roof.”

“We live in the 21st century, not the renaissance. Your idea of royal families is very dated.” Chan chuckles dryly.

“Baron Yoon Jeonghan from the seven islands is a stuck-up prick and out of touch with the world. It took him several visits to the slums, multiple voluntary hours at the kindergarten, and stripping him off his bank card to make him see reason,” you deadpan. Fuck Baron Jeonghan. Just thinking about your first and last encounter with that entitled douchebag almost makes you slice your finger instead of the bell pepper. “Duchess Yoo Shiah threw a hissy fit when she found out her clothes weren’t dry cleaned and bought from Zara instead of fucking Dior. The one who takes the cake when it comes to privilege is Princess Kim Min—”

“Everyone knows they are problematic,” Chan interjects. True, he has a point. There’s nobody out there who doesn’t know about Baron Jeonghan or Duchess Shiah but he’s also missing the entire point.

“And guess who gets stuck under the care of the RPP?” you raise a brow at him. He blanches at the realization as if he got struck with lightning. Perhaps you should give him more credit because he seems to own more brain cells than Baron Jeonghan. “Exactly. Everyone problematic.”

Chan’s jaw is clenched as he racks his brain to come up with a smart comeback. The sight of him stumbling on his words is nothing but pitiful, so you turn back to the cutting board and grab an onion to slice in half. “I’m not interested in your sob story, your Highness. I don’t care why you’re under the protection of the RPP. The only thing I care about is that you stay out of my business.”

“Chan is fine. No need for the title,” he sighs with a strain. “Perhaps I should’ve been more considerate with my first comment. Youngjae already told me about your… negative attitude towards the entire setup. It wasn’t my intention to anger you. Sorry.”

Well, that’s new. Out of the dozens of aristocrats you’ve met (and sadly also shared a house with back when you were 16 years old and still living with your dad), he’s the first to drop his title within five minutes for the sake of the disguise and apologize.

“We live under the same roof so we should get along with each other. If there’s something you need help with, just ask me, (y/n).”

“Thanks for the offer,” you reply nonchalantly because act civilized unless you want to suffer from a late-night sneak attack from Youngjae if he finds out. “But no thanks. I don’t need your help.”

You find yourself in need of help a few weeks later, right before the dreaded exam season.

“No. Forget it, Bam. I’m not going out clubbing with you tonight. In fact, I won’t do that anytime soon.” you let out an exasperated sigh as you try to break down to your friend that you prioritize your grades over his need of getting wasted.

“C’mon!” he whines so loudly that you have to put your phone farther away from your ear. “You’re not in that much stress yet! You have to make the most out of it before you drown in your exams.”

“Things are different for engineering students like, uh, me for example!” you hiss. “I fell behind and need to catch up. Ask Yugyeom or Changbin.”

“First of all, Yugyeom is always at the bar doing his job. And Changbin never picks up his phone. There’s nobody who’d dance with me!”

“You abandoned me at the bar for some chick the last time,” you deadpan. “I’m very sure you’ll find someone.”

Bambam finally gets the gist and gives up. “Fine then. Your loss. Have fun dying in numbers and variables instead of living in the moment. You’re going to regret it—”

You end the call and set your phone on mute before throwing it on the bed. Sometimes you wonder whether you were on drugs when you decided to major in engineering. The longer you stare at the jumble of numbers and letters — some of them in Greek too — the more you think your brain cells are decaying.

That’s how you find yourself in the kitchen, complaining at Youngjae’s expense and telling him how much you’d rather drown in bleach than subjecting yourself to Algebra II.

“You know there’s someone you can ask for help and he’s right here,” Youngjae drawls before chugging down the rest of his beer. If he’s going to be a victim to your temper tantrum about a major that you chose yourself, he might as well get a drink so he won’t go insane from your monologue about numbers and graphs and formulas he’s forgotten since he graduated from high school.

You gawk at him. “You? Are you hearing yourself? You almost failed maths. Twice!”

“Because I didn’t mean myself, dipshit,” he says blankly and his eyes flit over your shoulder, “Speaking of the devil. There comes the man of honor.”

You whip your head back to the door to see Chan enter confusedly. “Uh, did I interrupt something?”

“Yes.”

“No, we were just talking about you!”

You send Youngjae a death glare which he casually shrugs off. “(y/n) here is bitching about her Statistics I class and needs a tutor!”

“It’s actually Algebra II if you bothered to pay attention—”

“(y/n) needs a tutor!” Youngjae exclaims and nearly trips on his feet when he gets up from his chair. “Channie, I heard you’re good with numbers. Didn’t you get accepted into all Ivy Leagues in the States for all engineering programs?”

“You didn’t have to word it like that,” Chan laughs it off and nervously rubs the back of his head. He’s not denying it though.

“Obviously he would. He’s loaded and lives in a castle,” you mutter under your breath, but everyone catches it.

“Hey,” Youngjae warns. “That wasn’t necessary.”

“It’s alright,” Chan says casually. “I just wanted to get myself a snack. But if you have some questions, don’t hesitate to knock on my door. The offer still stands, y’know.” He digs through the cabinet until he finds two packs of the strawberry flavored Pocky knockoff that is 1) apparently his favorite thing to eat and 2) half the price of the Pocky version. He gives Youngjae a thumbs up before he returns to his room.

The moment Chan is out of sight, Youngjae whips his head to you, nostrils flaring. All that’s missing is steam coming out of his ears and his face running red and then he looks like the impetuous brother in every kids cartoon ever. “Really? He’s been staying with us for how long now? Four weeks? Five? Yet you’re still acting as if he murdered you in your dreams or something.”

“I don’t like him,” you state coldly. Youngjae looks like he’s about to rip his hair out.

“Look, I get that you don’t like me being active in this field of work, and I get that you have some hatred against the royal families. But you know you signed up for this when you decided to move in with me.” Youngjae pauses to get a breather and pop a new beer bottle open. “Besides, Chan isn’t like Baron Jeonghan or Duchess Shiah. I have eyes, (y/n), and I’ve seen you two avoiding each other as much as possible. And he doesn’t just laze around — he does the fucking chores and cooks dinner too! Chan is good, (y/n).”

The last words make you snap. “Good? Are you fucking serious? Because that’s why the press in his kingdom is depicting him as a tyrant who cares more about building his sick harem instead of helping the poor. And wasn’t he diagnosed for having anger management issues?!”

All the color leaves Youngjae’s face. This is obviously something you shouldn’t know. While he’s scrambling for words, you take the chance to add, “Dunno why you’re protecting him when he’s making headlines as a prince who can’t keep his dick in his pants.”

“Chan isn’t just a prince,” Youngjae says quietly. “He’s the crown prince.”

Your eyes widen at the confession. “What? Isn’t that even worse with that reputation he has?”

“It’s all propaganda,” he sighs and takes a swig, “The ministers are doing everything they can to finish him off. You see, Chan is the only child of the current king of the seven islands, and if he’s wiped out, it’ll be utter chaos. Chan’s smart and I admit, he used to have anger issues, but he’s worked on them. Though I guess he’s resorted to bottling up his feelings when push comes to pull. The point is, all the higher-ups don’t want him as their future king because they know that Chan is very much capable of pulling through with his own ideas and that doesn’t sit well with them. And a supposedly impulsive future king is the last thing anyone wants, hence why his people are eating up the news.”

“Oh.” you’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel an ounce of remorse. However, it’s not the first time you’ve heard such stories.

“Yeah. Oh,” Youngjae mocks, “If that’s the main reason why you don’t want to talk to him, now you know better. He might have power, but he’s not a monster. And for the record, he got into all Ivy Leagues and elite schools all over the world through his intelligence, not his status.”

Although you can see it in his eyes that Youngjae is done with the heated discussion, he’s still waiting for you to say something. You frown. “So… you think he’s a good tutor?”

“He’s your only shot.” Youngjae says nonchalantly, then adds with a warning tone, “But remember: Act. Civilized. Oh, and don’t tell him I told you about his circumstances. It’s supposed to be confidential information.”

You roll your eyes. How the fuck hasn’t Youngjae been busted yet?

Nonetheless, you’re trudging to Chan’s door a few minutes later, your fat binder of incomprehensible math formulas and (Greek) letter heavy in your arm. Chan opens the door with surprise etched on his face after you knocked, but it settles to warmth when you begrudgingly ask him to help you understand Algebra II.

“Sorry, it’s a little messy here,” he chuckles airily once he lets you in. It’s not messy per se, just a few clothes piled up in a corner of the room and some books and messily written notes lying on his bed. Still, it’s by far cleaner than the pig stall that is Youngjae’s room (and yours when you’re having a very bad day).

Chan clears his desk and drags his other chair to the table before plopping down on it. “So, what’s the problem?” Instead of answering, you just shove a sheet of paper up his face. “Y’know, you can talk to me. If this is about earlier, it’s really alright. I’m not mad or anything,” he says with the same friendly tone you’ve been hearing ever since he moved in, yet he still takes the sheet from you. You watch his brows scrunch together the more he reads on, and you can already see the question forming in his mind.

“(y/n), you do know this is the basis to understand—”

“I was absent when the professor covered it and everyone I asked couldn’t quite explain it to me,” you respond before he can finish speaking out his thoughts. “All my friends were like—” you gesture with your hands, “—you just do this and that and then hope your hunch is right. Before you say it, yes I know that I don’t get the material of one entire unit and the exam is two weeks away.”

“Then let’s not waste any time,” Chan says before grabbing his iPad. You stare at him blankly as he writes something on his tablet. The last thing you expected from him was to accept it and try to hammer as much of missing information as he can into your brain, but then again, you’ve never seen him backtrack whenever Youngjae asks him something. Speaking of Youngjae, perhaps he is right. Chan does seem to know what he’s talking about.

“You have to subtract X first, then replace it with Y,” he explains as he circles said letters in different colors. By now, you’ve leaned closer to him to get a better view on what he’s writing (his handwriting isn’t the worst you’ve ever had to decode; refer to Youngjae who you’ve internally awarded with the worst handwriting of the decade).

Chan is exceptionally good at explaining. You feel like you’ve figured out a secret of the world that not even Pythagoras found out as you slowly understand what on Earth you are supposed to calculate with the formula. Chan is patient, always asking if you got it or if you needed another clarification, and takes the time to draw colorful graphs to visualize the jumble of numbers. His voice is pleasing to the ear too, soft and gentle to the point where you’ve blurred everything out except Chan. Chan’s voice. Chan’s hand.

You didn’t mean to stare, but with him always adding something new every five seconds as he goes on with his monologue, you can’t help but do so. His fingers aren’t long — that’ll always be courtesy of Hyunjin from Subway and yes, his very pretty hands might be the sole reason you only insist on going to that one specific Subway at the intersection next to KFC — but just one glance at Chan’s hand and you know that he’s strong.

He’s barely applying pressure to the pen, but you can see the veins slightly protruding. Chan’s sleeves are pushed back and if you move your head a bit, you’re more than certain that veins are bulging out from his forearms too. However, you don’t muster up the courage to do that because Chan will definitely notice and the last thing you want on your platter is to tell him that you were too busy checking out his arms instead of listening to him talk about Algebra II.

Eventually, Chan sets the pen down to stretch his hand. He says something, but you don’t pick up what exactly. Not that it’d matter much anyway since you’re too busy admiring his hand—

“(y/n), you there? I called out your name several times but you didn’t react.” Chan’s breath hitches and surprise flashes in his eyes for a split second when his gaze meets yours. You don’t understand his hesitation, but then horror bubbles in you once you realize that his hand is firmly gripping your chin and keeping your head pointed at his direction. The very same hand you’ve been staring at for God knows how long.

“I’m good. Just a little tired, but I’m good,” you stutter, though it comes out very breathlessly as if you just finished a marathon.

“Tired?” Chan echoes, concern settling into his features. “You should’ve said so, then I would’ve stopped talking. You need something?”

Now that you think about it, you’ve never got a close look at Chan. Sure, he’s handsome, the countless pictures of Google prove that he’s also too photogenic for his own good (goddamnit, why didn’t your parents make you just as photogenic?) but in person, he’s something else. His lips are plush and look very inviting to kiss, and the lower your eyes wander, the more you see a toned chest hidden underneath that damn shit that hugs him in all the right places.

Fine, his hands aren’t the only attractive thing about him. Then again, he’s a prince.

“I said I’m good.” you snap out of your thoughts and finally gather enough control over your nerves to tear his hand away. “And I caught everything you said.” Of course, you know that’s a blatant lie and he knows so too from the way he’s looking at you. That is until he quirks a brow.

“Okay, then what did I say before I called you?”

Your mouth feels dry. It’s almost as if he knew the reason for your distress. “I caught everything relevant to this,” you mutter, suddenly finding his curtains much more interesting. What an interesting design, maybe you should get yourself new curtains too—

“Then you wouldn’t mind solving these questions, right? Just so I can make sure that you got everything down.”

“Sure,” you reply because that’s the only thing you could say without hurting your ego and straining your vocal cords. Chan doesn’t comment any further and looks for some practice questions before sliding the iPad to you. Already the first question makes your head spin in disdain. Numbers? Variables? Never heard of them.

Chan is watching you like a hawk as you fiddle with the pen, unable to write down anything that makes remote sense. Feeling his eyes on you makes you feel helpless and you shift around in your seat. “What are you staring at?” you glare at him once you give up for good, and you just hope that your look is as intimidating as you pictured in your head.

“You’re definitely exhausted. You’re shaking,” Chan points out. Your eyes widen as you stare down and realize that your thighs are shaking, and it’s then and there when you realize that you’re feeling hot. Seems like Chan doesn’t realize that because the worry written on his face is genuine. “You say the exam’s in two weeks right? We can stop for today and work on this tomorrow. That is if you still want my help.”

You nod and add in a tiny voice, “Yes, please.”

You’re too busy ignoring the heat building between your thighs to notice the borderline feral sound that leaves Chan.

“And here I thought you had quality bonding time.” Youngjae gives a disappointed look. “You’re acting even colder towards him than before your exam meltdown. Your prick level can only stoop down so low.”

You ended up getting tutor lessons from Chan every day before the dreaded day of judgment: the exam in Algebra II. You spent more hours in his room than on your own if you were completely honest, and the results were fruitful. While you did manage to pass the exam with a fairly high score, the price you had to pay was hell.

It’s almost as if Chan caught up on your hand fixation. Sometimes he twirled the pen in his fingers, sometimes it was the simple bracelet dangling on his wrist. Just when you thought he had you figured out, he asks you if you’re alright, visibly oblivious to his effect on you. Such duality in a person should be illegal, you conclude. If you die from whiplash, you know who the perpetrator is.

“You were the one who pretty much pressured me into asking him for help,” you drawl.

“I had good intentions only! You can’t keep up the I-hate-royal-families-blah-blah mentality the entire time!” Youngjae wails before stuffing a handful of chips in his mouth.

“Watch me.” You internally cringe at the loud crunching sounds he’s making and add vigorously, “And stop chewing so loudly.”

“You’ll get around or so help me God—” he groans when his phone buzzes. He doesn’t spare a glance at the caller ID because there’s only one person who has set his ringtone to the baby shark song specifically for when he’s calling. “I gotta go, Jinyoung’s being a bitch again. Don’t murder somebody. Thanks.” You only watch him shuffle for his bag and grab a handful of chips before he’s out the door. Groaning, you clean up the mess he’s made on the table.

Just as you’re done wiping the crumbs off the surface, Chan pads into the room.

“Hey, can we talk?”

“I established right at the beginning that you should only talk to me when absolutely necessary.” you scowl, trying to walk past him.

“Well, this is important,” he urges and blocks the doorway, effectively stopping you from fleeing. “And I do deserve one conversation with you after I helped you out.”

“You offered on your own. That’s not the same as asking for a favor.” You successfully push your way past him, but in the next moment, he spins you around and pins you against the wall.

“We’re going to talk, whether you like it or not.” The sudden coldness of his tone has shivers running down your spine. Chan holds your wrist in an iron grip and if he clutched on any tighter, you wouldn’t put it past him to break your bones. Out of options, you comply and give him a curt nod before he lets go and takes a step back.

“I don’t understand you, (y/n). I genuinely thought you would put your prejudices aside but instead, all I get are mixed signals from you.”

It’s your turn to gawk. “Me? Mixed signals? What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about how you keep looking at me as if you want me to fuck your brains out.” If the color hasn’t drained from your face yet, it has now. Chan smiles wickedly at your horrified reaction but doesn’t stop there. “I’m talking about how you talk like you don’t want anything to do with me but act as if you’re begging for my attention.” He takes a step closer to you, and you wish you could morph with the wall. “I’m talking about how you keep staring at my hands and think I don’t notice it.” You wince when he rests his hands against the wall on each side of your face, leaning closer so that you can feel his breath on your lips. “So, you have a thing for my hands?” Bullseye.

“You’re so full of yourself. No wonder your ministers want to get rid of you,” you snap because you’d rather suffer from food poisoning than admitting that you want Chan’s fingers in you.

Something shifts within Chan. He gapes at you, clearly not expecting you to even know about the ministers. His demeanor darkens in a blink of an eye, and you feel like your legs are about to give up on you when you meet his eyes, black and feral.

“You’re playing with fire. Don’t anger me,” he warns, voice low and rough.

“So it’s true that you resorted to bottling up your feelings, your Highness?” you cock your head to the side. Chan clenches his jaw at the mention of his title, struggling to keep his anger in check. You laugh through your nose, then grab one of his hands and force it away from the wall. If he already knows that you’re thirsting after him, might as well go for it. “It’s funny how your ministers aren’t able to string you around like a puppet yet here you are, unable to do anything against a commoner. You know you have nice hands and you know my weakness and yet, you’re not using them on me.” He gulps when you fumble with his fingers.

And then he understands.

“Unless I misread the situation,” he says darkly, though you distinguish the slight tremor his voice carries. “Do you really want this? I’m not going to go easy on you.” Chan is dead serious, judging by the way he’s looking at you expectantly.

“The safe word is petunia.” You don’t take your eyes off him and add in a louder tone, “Now try me, do your worst.”

“You’re going to regret wanting me at my worst,” Chan growls and before you know it, he crashes his lips against yours. The kiss is anything but sweet, more of a clash of teeth and tongues and saliva dribbling down your chins, yet it leaves you boiling hot and wobbly on your feet. He presses you up against the wall and forces his leg between yours, the sudden contact making you hunch forward. You moan against his mouth when he tugs harshly on your hair, the sting making your nerves go haywire. In the meantime, your hands roam his upper body, blunt nails digging into his shoulders as you try to buck your hips against his leg. While he doesn’t budge, you manage to elicit a groan out of him.

When you pull away, you’re both gasping for air. Chan’s hair is disheveled from the way you’ve been pulling on them, lips pink and glossy. One look in his eyes is enough to make your heart stop beating. They’re dark and animalistic and set ablaze with unfiltered lust. You’re such in a daze from a simple kiss that you nearly stumble when Chan drags you to his room.

He manhandles you on his bed with ease before his lips latch on yours once more. You nearly sob when he rids you off your pants, putting pressure in all the right places to have you losing your mind. As you’re about to gain back some dominance in the kiss, he breaks it off. His fingers that were once ghosting over your underwear are now tracing patterns all over the material, making you spasm. “You’re such a brat, all bark but no bite. All it takes is one kiss and you’ve lost all your fight. Can you get any more pathetic?” he mocks as he focuses his fingertips directly on the wet patch of your underwear. Your eyes roll back as he rubs on the same spot, the broken moans leaving you eerily similar to cries. “Don’t tell me you’re about to come like this. How sensitive are you?”

“Am n-not—” you cut yourself off with a whimper when he lets the waistband snap against your skin.

“Yeah, you sure about that?” he grins and that’s when you break, feeling your high approaching at lightning speed.

“Don’t wanna come like this—”

“But I thought you’re not sensitive?” the satisfied grin just widens with every syllable that leaves his lips. “If you don’t want to come like this, all over your underwear, beg.”

Chan applies even more force to your sensitive spots, and you struggle to have a clear thought. The smirk he delivers is lethal, and you couldn’t be any more convinced that he’s the devil’s incarnate.

“I’ll do anything, please. Don’t let me come like this, that’s all I’m a-aah-asking for,” you weep, your blood nearly boiling at its climax, “I’ll even take a punishment!”

“Say my name,” he orders, fingers still drawing circles.

“Your—”

“My name, not my title.”

Your breath hitches as you finally realize what he’s aiming for. He wants you to remember that it’s him who’s reducing you into this illiterate mess. Him, the one you’ve been despising since before you even met. If you still had any ounce of dignity left, you’d try to fix the power imbalance until you’re left with no choice but to obey, but now you’re so close and the last thing you want to do is come with your pants on.

“Please, Chan,” your voice breaks towards the end and in an instant, he pulls away. As you’re letting you’re basking in the break from his brutal tempo, not too affected by how your upcoming orgasm is fading away, Chan observes you.

And then out of nowhere, he flips you on your stomach and delivers a hard smack to your ass that has you screaming into the pillows.

“You said you’d take any punishment too, right?” You twitch as he rubs the small of your back. You can already imagine the handprints on your ass he continued to slap you with such force that has you moving up the bed. The pain that’s going to haunt you for days. Before you know it, you try to arch your back to lift your ass, but then the bed shifts. “But if you really think I’m going to spank you as a punishment, then you’re really fucking dumb. As if I’ll use my hands on you when we both know you love my hands.”

With that, he drops himself on his chair, spreading his legs that you can see the prominent tent forming in his pants. He orders you over with a flick of his finger, and just as you get up from the bed, a new wave of horror flushes over you.

“Crawl.”

The look you send him is priceless. There’s no fucking way you can do it. It’s just a few meters, nothing you can’t handle, but he’s there sitting on his Ikea swivel chair as if it’s his throne made of gold, watching your every movement like a predator. And then there’s you, only in a shirt and underwear, being forced to go on all fours as if you were his fucking dog—

The difference in power display couldn’t get any more visible. He really is the fucking worst.

“You’d really do anything, huh…” he muses as you drop on your hands and knees and crawl to him, never looking up. It’s only when he beckons you to stand up that you look at him with nothing but rage and shame in your eyes. Chan has always been slightly terrified with your death stare but right now, he can’t take it seriously and it shows. It shows in the way he smiles lopsidedly, in the way his brows quirk in amusement. “Now hump my leg.”

Humiliation runs through your body all over. Your fists are clenched as he waits for you to act, even pats his thigh in case you didn’t get the memo. But oh you do, and his thigh does look inviting.

“Hump my leg like the brainless bitch you are. If you want my hands or my cock, you earn it first. Especially since you treated me like shit ever since I moved in.” The last sentence burns you badly because he has a point. But then there’s the prospect of his hands and dick that’s bulging out of his pants.

Pushing all thoughts away, you settle on his leg. Taking a moment to gather yourself, you tell yourself it’s all good and then you move. The first thrust knocks all air out of your lungs and you grab onto his shoulders for support. You didn’t even move that much, but Chan’s looking at you as if he’s about to fucking devour you and knowing that he is very much capable of moving you around, you’re starting to become overwhelmed.

Eventually, you lose yourself in the feeling of his rough jeans against your drenched underwear, humping on his thigh as your orgasm builds up. It’s silent, save for your pants, and the countless whimpers flying past your lips as your movements gradually become sloppier. You’re almost there and you know it. But so does Chan, and the moment he’s got it figured out, he lunges from your hips and forces you to pick up the pace.

“Oh no, you’re going to come,” he growls, ignoring your pleas and sobs. Adrenaline courses in your blood and you know it isn’t long until you fall apart. You try to make him stop, even put your hands on his, but you don’t have the energy to actively push him away.

“Chan, please— I’m gonna—”

“You’re gonna come? Then fucking come on my thigh, (y/n),” he snaps, and then adds, “You hear that? You’re about to come from humping my thigh.”

Maybe it’s the realization that he’s right, maybe it’s the way he’s worded it. Either way, it’s the last straw to make you spasm as you come, soaking your underwear and even managing to make a mess out of his pants. Chan makes sure you ride through your orgasm, only stopping to move your hips once you’re all spent and resting your head on his shoulder. Your eyes are glassy, vision foggy, but the only thing you can envision clearly is Chan.

Chan jolts when your hand grazes over his bulge. You’re about to undo his pants, but he’s quick to stop you and restrict your hands behind your back.

“You think you deserve my cock? Dream on. As if I would fuck any commoner, especially those who don’t respect me,” he spits, and you flinch at his choice of words, clearly recalling that you used the exact same terms and he’s now using it against you. “You said you’d take any punishment. Well, guess what? This was just punishment number one.”

#yes the ending is rushed oops sue me #may consider part 2 so heads up #stray kids smut #skz smut #bang chan smut #chan smut #smut.mine #dom!chan #sub!reader #crispy.txt

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harryswatermelonsegment · 4 years ago

Text

Pool Party

Pairing: Reader/Harry Styles

Rating: R, text book smut

Word Count: 5k 😳

Warnings: Slight sub/dom tones I guess? & alcohol consumption

A/N: Sorry this is late, life somewhat resuming here in the UK so it means I’m back at my job. I managed to fall asleep mid edit folks 😳, this is my entry for the @helladirections Summer Feeling Fic Challenge, with the prompt “pool party” click the link for the masterlist. I’m still writing two more, one for @berrynarrybanana ‘s Sex Bucketlist Challenge but it’s turning out to be a 20k slow burn I wasn’t expecting 😬.Oops. But enjoy this one, I’m proud of her. My one other blatant thirst fic can be found here. Reblogs get free gratitude for the next 5 years 🍉💕

You'd been friends with Jeff since your teens, when his parents (despite their wealth), wanted him to get a job at the restaurant you worked at. In their rightful thinking, they wanted him to learn you had to work from the ground up.

Despite your clearly different class background you found a ton of common interests making the whole thing immaterial. He was a caring, down to earth guy and you were both people who really enjoyed sarcastically taunting each other every shift. You'd got used to visiting his house in the hills even though you'd been scared to get lost at first around his parents large house. Becoming solid friends quickly, you'd managed to keep in touch, as much as adult life would now allow anyway.

You knew his main role was managing a pop star but you'd not caught up in a minute and when you did, you kept your job chat out of the conversation where you could. This is why, as you barge through the kitchen, to the pool outside, you're shocked to nearly knock a stunned Harry Styles onto his behind.

"Fuck, shit I'm so sorry" you clutch your chest looking at the red wine on his tank top and his now empty glass. The soiled garment was tucked into some dressy shorts and partly covered by a loud hawaiian patterned shirt. Oh god what had you done?

You were quite honestly mortified. You'd never actually met the man himself, usually meeting Jeff at his for a few drinks or at a restaurant. You'd heard him mentioned in stories about travelling or how his campaigns were running Jeff into the ground with meetings. So, although you weren't a massive fan of his per se, in the way you didn't ask Jeff for updates or info, the way you'd hope you'd meet the attractive pop star was definitely not this.

He looked down at the offending stain then back up into your eyes, keeping his head angled down and blinking through his lashes. You couldn't read his blank expression and it put you on edge.

Maybe it was the heat trapped in the doorway, but as your eyes stayed locked you suddenly felt a fire spread from your navel up to your cheeks, and then from your center down to your toes. Your lower stomach clenched as you stared back at the guy covered in a good 2007 French rouge.

Fuck me he's pretty, you thought.

A rapid film reel of moments; sweaty bodies, those large biceps holding you against the nearest wall, smacking of lips against skin and moans of release flashed in your brain.

It had definitely been a while since you had got laid in your defense, your mood and pent up sexual frustration getting worse by the day as you tried and failed at the L. A. dating scene. Maybe you were picky, but horny and picky was an awful place to be.

However, the reality of the embarrassing scene you were currently a star of, flipped you back into the present.

Seemingly over the initial incident and hopefully not a mind reader to your thirsty brain, he takes you in and smirks.

Harry knew from the way your breathing hitched looking at his torso that you were at least a bit interested. He had clocked you the second you walked in through the big glass doors. A shirt of a band he liked and a natural beauty he wanted to spend some times with you he pondered. Ideally naked.

Zig zagging across the world promoting the album and had left little time to enjoy another person. Status and obligation to his job making it hard to just go out and meet someone. But here you were, dressed unlike anyone else, looking absolutely adorable in your embarrassment. You must be trustworthy if you're in Jeff's home,he wasn't a "bring your friends too" kind of host with his clients usually around.

This could be a fun evening for you both, he thought. Something unspoken, almost magnetic, drawing you both to one another. Surely that wasn't all his side right?

"I was told it was a good year, but I wasn't planning on consuming it quite this way?" inwardly he rolled his eyes at the barely there quip. But you laughed anyway.

"I am so, so awfully sorry, look, let's see if there's some dish liquid or something, possibly some of my next months rent in there too if I have to replace it" you let out a nervous laugh as you walked towards the kitchen. But in all honesty you weren't kidding.

Harry laughed at your sarcastic remark, impressed by your confidence in owning the situation and getting on with things. He casually watched your hips sway past a few people in to the open plan kitchen with as much subtlety as he could, you were confidentially locating all the parts needed to try and remove the offending stain.

"You seem to know your way around 'ere. I'm er…I'm Harry by the way" awkwardly waving as you mixed some solution in the sink drenching a sponge in it.

"Yeah" you smiled turning from the sink with the damp rag "known Jeff a good while, have definitely spilt red wine here before. I'm Y/N" you giggle. The beam from his own mouth matching.

"Ah! Y/N, of course, I've heard him mention you, didn't you once hide rotting mackerel in a unpleasant guys blazer?" he chuckled

"Heyyyy. Only after he spanked my ass getting him the check. Deserved a hot plate to the crotch too" you shot back.

You weren't sure where to go from here the thought of wetting down the white tank yourself definitely appealed but also seemed far too forward.

"Um…" you began gesturing with the sponge in your hand. You expected him to take it from you to sort himself out but..

"Oh yeah sorry" he replied shimmying his shirt off, dumping it on the back of a bar stool, then, crossing his arms across his stomach and lifting the tank top over his head you were slack jawed and frozen taking in the lean muscles and tattoos littered intermittently across his abdomen. He spread the top across the islands worktop flat, then grabbing the sponge with a simple "thanks" and knitting his eyebrows together in concentration as he tried to rid the dull red mark from it's center.

You still hadn't moved. A pink twinge to your cheeks as you watched his shoulder blades and back muscles scrubbing. Dirty thoughts circling your brain still.

"I would have helped you but I didn't want to start a wet tshirt contest in such a high end establishment yknow?" you thought out loud.

"Oh yeah, good call. I'm fiercely competitive Y/N so would probably be under that fancy waterfall thing by now showing off m'moves in my pants" he wiggles his hips trying to suggestively show you his "moves" but you can't help but smirk at just how endearing this man is. Dammit.

When he's finished with his shirt he drapes it over another barstool before handing you the sponge back.

If anyone asks him if he blatantly and deliberately got naked to gauge if you were into him he'd definitely deny it. But the truth is, he definitely did. Luckily for him, with the way you bite your lip and drag your eyes down his flesh as he brushes past your side to get back to the sink, he's right.

"Speaking of getting in the water in your" you use air quotes "'pants' I'm off to get out of mine" you declare, pushing yourself from the counter and keeping eye contact a second as you stroll back to the sliding doors leading to the pool.

"I… What??"

" The pool Harry?.... What did you think I meant?" you narrow your eyes and press your lips together before shutting the glass door again and turning once more to smirk at the opened mouthed man still by the sink.

--------------------------------

You'd been schmoozing in the water for a few hours now. There were probably only 20 or so people still here and the 3rd frozen marg had got you buzzed. You were in the small hot tub type pool, attached at the top of the main one on a slightly higher level. You hadn't seen Harry for a while but the last few times you caught his eye he'd been surrounded by at least 3 other people fighting for his attention, so you banked your flirtations to soothe your own ego, grabbed another marg and tried to forget about how he had started a tornado inside you, yearning for his hands on your thighs and head peering up at you from where they met in the middle. The strong pull of lust was clearly in your head then. What a shame.

You put it to the back of your mind as you finished catching up with Glenne. Both flushed and giggly as usual, she was the perfect match for Jeff and their chemistry unmatchable. You always enjoyed hanging out with the both of them, if anything, they gave you hope your own match may be out there. She left you in the tub alone, as she went to grab herself another drink and check on her host duties boyfriend.

"Don't you find drinking whilst already in water the weirdest thing?" you look up to find Harry standing over your right shoulder as you sit with your back against the pool wall and your elbows propping you up behind you, drink in one hand. His eyes unsubtley slip down to where your breasts lay pushed together in your halter neck bikini. You definitely weren't imagining it then. Fucking fantastic, you think.

"I mean drowning yourself on the inside from the alcohol and being in more than 4 inches of water really adds a danger element to my life if I'm honest" you reply sipping your drink.

And there goes those dimples again.

He's just in a pair of yellow swimming shorts now which doesn't help the alcohol flush at all. Sitting by your right side, putting his short glass full of amber liquid and ice, on the side of the pool and sliding in to join you. He leaves a small gap, as to not appear a total letch but your smart mouth has him hooked.

Taking a sip of his drink with the water up to his collar bones he hums.

"I do feel incredibly dangerous now, you've got a point"

"I mean if you think that's danger" you edge closer, not drunk but buzzed enough to take your chances you whisper into the shell of his ear. "You should see what thrills are in the guest bathroom. 1st floor on the right? " he chokes on his drink as your suggestive whispers make his dick twitch. He definitely couldn't get out of the pool for a while.

You're gone before you get a verbal reaction. If this all goes badly then you can just hide in there and slip out to an Uber and never see Jeff again right? Right. Cool.

With a soft white towel around you and your heart rate high as you reach the main guest bedroom you enter the room, you notice a large weekend bag in there and freeze. Shit. Someone's staying over, you hadn't factored that in, but a glance to the tag and the embossed H. E. S tells you you're good. Well, if not you'll just be a creep hiding in someone's bathroom but let's not think about it too much. Your faux confidence was working well so far and what other chance was going to arise like this one? Hot celebrities need fun with strangers too right?

Entering the bathroom you rub the towel over you, leaving mostly dry skin. You'd peel away your bikini if you were definite you wouldn't need to peel it back up your limbs should this plan backfire. You move to the mirror to adjust the black flecks from your minimal makeup dispersing under your eye and just as you're about to smooth down the stray baby hairs that humidity has got to around your face, you see Harry appear in the mirror behind you. Your belly flipping over and over with the thrill he'd took the bait.

Wasting no time he smirks and holds your gaze, wrapping his hands around your waist whilst his lips attach to the junction of your neck and collarbone. His tongue drags over your soft skin and he licks and softly sucks swirls onto it with his plush lips.

"Hm. You're right. This is a more fun type of danger" he says between kisses but before he's even finished his sentence you've spun around in his arms.

The bottom of your spine cold against the marble countertop, arms around his neck as you smash your lips into one another's with urgency. Tongues and wet noises as you get to know one another through your bodies alone.

He runs his hands down your back and presses his hard length against your thigh. He's definitely packing you think as you lift up a little rub your pubic bone against his front, panting out a little moan as the sweet friction of your bodies colliding sends you into overdrive. Catching the noise through your parted lips he gently tugs on the bottom one, teeth grazing the supple flesh. This combined with his large palms kneading your ass and pulling you further, tighter, into the roll of his hips. Only two layers of damp clothing separate you,forcing your lips to break from his mouth and fully moan, not caring who may be around. You could not remember the last time a perfect stranger knew your body quite this well.

His own grunts were speeding up when he suddenly grabs the back of your thighs and hoists you up beside the sink, you gasp in shock but it was more the way the lean man thrusted you up there like it was nothing. What else could he do? You expect him to go back to kissing you but instead he pulls back with his rock hard erection outlined in the wet shorts he still has on. Looking at you dead in the eyes both raging with lust and concern. Whilst you try not to worry how you were going to accommodate him inside your tight walls.

"Is this…? I mean, you want this too right?" his hands are resting at either side of your parted thighs. You nod. "Need you to say it Y/N" he steps forward, lips wet and brushes the pad of his thumb across your bottom lip that was now puffy and pink from the earlier biting. He knew you were down to fuck, but now he wanted to test your preferences. What kind of fun you were about to have shall we say. So when you lick his thumb tip, holding his fist still and grazing your wet tongue up and down from knuckle to tip before closing your eyes and humming around the entire digit, he knew you were both in for a good time.

Removing the thumb he whispers a barely audible "fuck me" before smashing your lips back together, tongues massaging together as he peels your underwear to the side with his hand swiftly and presses digit you'd lubricated with your mouth against your clit, moving it fast from side to side with just the right amount of pressure to make your head spin. Gasping, you throw your head back, hands clasped around his neck as you lean back and feel yourself start to leak a little with arousal. The few spots dripping down on to the counter.

You could say it had been a while but really this guy was moving his way round your body in the same way you tune a guitar in key. Calloused fingers applying the right amount of pressure as you felt yourself start to get to the edge already. He was kissing down the front if your chest, between your breasts, not missing a beat when he pushed both triangles of your bikini aside and you moaned loudly as he kissed and sucked hard around your nipple, tentatively pulling it between his teeth firmly, the sound you let out made him clamp a little harder before sucking in the whole nipple again, soothing the skin his tongue. Most likely leaving a mark behind, but you kind of liked the idea of proof he'd been devouring you in all honesty.

You were becoming blissed out from all the stimulation. Clenching and moving your hips around nothing but this magical thumb working your clit up and down hard. You were overcome with this whole situation playing out the way it had. You broke away from his mouth again.

"Oh fuck.. Harry, I'm… FuckFuck I'm going to come, I'm gonna fucking… Ahhh" he pulled back one arm steadying you as your head hit the mirror behind you in your release. He just watched you and slowed his thumb down watching as the liquid cascaded onto the counter.

After you'd come down you open your eyes and shyly smiled before kissing him passionately, his hands moving around your waist tightly. You moved your hand to his shorts, teasingly grazing the outline of his cock between your fingers in hopes of repaying the favour. He does a single throaty laugh and removes your hand, holding himself against his thigh. You look at him in confusion when he splutters,

"Sorry, sorry its just I'm going t'blow my load if you touch me." then he's back on your lips "Too. Fucking. Sexy" he says between wet kisses to your jaw, neck and clavicle. "Wanted to do this since I first set eyes on you" one hand is on the back of his neck twisting nape curls between your fist whilst the other rests behind you, stopping you from hitting your head on the mirror again.

"Oh yeah? Before or after I ruined your clothes?" you laugh teasingly as he slides his hands around your back to finally remove the bikini top properly, lifting it up over your head and tossing it aside somewhere on the floor. He let's a laugh out himself completely entranced still by how natural you are around him, it was often hard to connect with strangers in his position.

"I'd spotted you walking in, was trying to open the door for you m'love" he says before sucking a red mark into your breast and massaging and pulling the other nipple slightly with his hand.

You struggle through sharp intakes of breath for a reply.

"Well….ah...that's what chivalry.. Oh.. Get's you these days I guess" and you're both laughing a little.

"Hmm. Have to try harder with my manners then won't I? I mean, I've got to clear up the mess I've made here" he cups his hand against your pussy rubbing it up and down a little with his palm. You let out a guttural noise at the friction. "Ladies first and all'tha too right?" he giggles again at himself.

You're practically cumming right then, you couldn't remember the last time someone actually went down on you. Your previous boyfriend not particularly into offering you foreplay. A main point of why he didn't stick around too long.

Harry kisses down your abdomen now, soft sloppy, sensual pecks, humming into your skin every so often in appreciation as he works at removing your soaked bikini bottoms with his hands, pushing them down to your knees before you help, letting them fall from the remaining ankle to the ground.

Harry is moving far too slow for you, kissing across each hip down to the top of your slit, breathing over where you desperately need him before paying the other side the same attention. Then he's licking up each crease where your thigh meets your pelvis.

"Y/N, just.. Just turn, that's it and lean back as far as you can there, shuffle forward until can't balance anymore" you shift your ass as forward as possible on the lip of the sink and prop yourself up on your elbows trying to be as flat as possible on the cold counter as you could, your toes behind the sink with one foot the other dangling over the edge. You keep you thighs open as Harry hunches over the counter where you now lay diagonal. He places his arms under your thighs and bends your legs flat out as he can stretch you, you're expecting some more teasing but he just looks down at your pussy licking over his lips and almost whining before burying his tongue inside you immediately. The force of his tongue lapping up your previous climax causes you once again to knock the side of your head against the mirrored wall. You turn and watch the scene almost as a spectator, witnessing yourself bare to this beautiful man, curly brown hair between your fists and making sounds like he's savouring every taste. He catches you watching before taking his mouth off you, immediately, you're whining in protest.

"Watch my eyes not my reflection baby, I'm right here"

His authoritative tone eclipsing every thought you had about the casual nickname, you stared down at the wonderful site of him lapping and suckling on your clit. Pointed tongue and firm laps against the swollen button. He then starts lapping up at your glistening hole,unhooking an arm to spread your lips open between his fingers and licking right from the bottom to the top with all the sloppy wet noises involved. He was feeling you contract as he locked faster and faster over you. His tongue deserved an award never mind his music. You couldn't believe you were on the brink of a second orgasm so quickly but when he sunk his middle finger into you at the same pace his tongue was working at, you were screaming his name into the extractor fan above before you knew it. You felt waves of liquid cascade from your pussy as he gently lapped up the produce of his work from you. You flinched in overstimulation but he cleaned up every last drop tenderly before carefully closing your legs and pivoting you round to your previous sitting up position on the counter. Neither of you had spoken a word since you came but as he leads your arms to drape over your shoulders, holding your fucked out body against his chest whilst peppering your temple with soft pecks . Then he kisses you intensely, letting you taste the sweet juices of yourself on his lips. You hummed in approval of the sweet taste as you came round.

A few minutes of carnal making out and things were heating up again. Your hands cupping his jaw then sliding to graze fingernails up and down his back, digging them in a little harder now and again and causing goosebumps to pierce through the skin rapidly under your touch.

You could feel him swallowing down grunts from the friction he was getting from his shorts covered cock brushing up and down between your slick folds.

He'd made you cum twice. Hard. He always got off of making his partners cum of course, so he was feeling beyond turned on and the slight heat of your glistening folds against his length was almostvsending him over the edge.

"I want you inside me" you whispered against his lips desperately.

No sooner had you said the words, his left hand was frantically searching through the vanities top drawer in hope. Finding a packet, checking the date quickly then tearing it between his teeth, spitting the seal onto the floor and pushing his shorts to his ankles, stepping out of them at speed before kicking them away.

He smirked when he caught your eyes bulge at his cock. He knew it was above average but the reaction was always a further compliment he thought.

Stepping forward he put on a show of putting the condom on, first rubbing the drops of sticky pre cum at the head and down his length keeping his eyes locked to yours as you wriggled on the counter with anticipation. He whined a little as it squeezed him rolling it on, so red and over sensitive from turning you on. So that's why, when you grabbed for it, he stilled your hand. Dimples appearing back in his cheeks as you looked again in confusion. He kisses you, languishing the moment before grabbing you forward from the countertop to the floor again, still keeping your lips attached. He lightly grips at your hips and turns you round to face the mirror once more.

Harry lightly grabs your throat, and the way you whimper and push your ass back against him, makes him mentally bank that idea for later perhaps. He runs his left hand up the column of your neck lightly holding your jaw between his thumb and forefinger, forcing you to look at him with his hand on your face and the other already working up and down your folds.

"I want you to watch us. Want you to watch yourself come apart. Want to watch you cum around my cock yeah? " he whispers in your ear. You noticeably shiver with excitement of what's to come.

"Please Harry, please, need it, need you."

You watch yourself babble and beg for his cock. The pathetic whimper from yourself as you try and circle your ass into his crotch again to encourage it happening. You were never patient and he's driving you insane here.

Bringing two fingers infront of your lips as you watch yourself in the mirror he looks you dead in the eye through the reflection.

"Spit" so you do, "good girl" he says kissing your cheek. His saliva lubed fingers are back rubbing your clit quickly whilst his knee nudges the back of yours to spread your feet wider as he kisses the back of your neck and shoulders. When he pauses next you're not expecting the hard thrust of him entering you entirely, sure you were dripping wet with the result of two orgasms but you cry out in a mix of stretch and pleasure as he pounds into you at a furious pace. His spare hand not on your clit is holding the bottom of your spine down as he keeps up his rhythm. His pace was that of a man desperate for release after watching you fall apart on his fingers and tongue. The build up meant he was already close as you tight walls fluttered around him. He pleads with you to stop tightening your walls around him or he's not going to last he whimpers.

You were already close again, you'd never cum this many times or this quickly in your life but you were ready for another round and by the sounds of him and the stutter his pace kept slipping you knew he was close too.

You quickly removed his hand, sucking your own fingers into your mouth to replace his own at your clit.

"M'gonna cum, but… OhOh fuck.. But need you harder. Deeper" you manage to get out.

He grunts a curse before squeezing your hips at a pressure that will leave marks tomorrow but the delight in the speed he was now able to snap his hips against the swells of your ass, was well worth it. It only took a few more seconds with the fingers that knew you best, for you to gush against his cock. Feeling absolutely exhausted you slump your sweaty chest onto the cold counter.

His orgasm taking him by surprise when you clenched up to milk him dry. He all but shouts your name as his hips stutter and you feel the warmth of his cum fill the one barrier between you.

His lips were back on your sweaty neck for a second whilst he disposed of the used condom. He ran the walk in shower and wordlessly you took his offered hand to join him under the hot spray. You'd never had an encounter end like this before not that you were a seasoned professional but after 3 orgasms the way his hands moved round your body under the water, washing away your antics with sweet strawberry-banana smelling suds on the flannel, left you with a warm floaty feeling the worn off alcohol never had.

He gently wipes your makeup from under your eyes then, smiling at the cute way your nose wrinkles slightly as he rubs at each eyebrow.

"I don't even have words" you finally laugh out blushing, not able to stand his gauge as you say it.

"Oh. So that's how to make that smart mouth o'yours stop is it? " he grins, you gasp in mock offense and go to say something but going under your chin with his thumb with his forefinger to connect your lips under the warm water spray he kisses you when you pull away you can't help but ask.

"So does this make us even on one ruined fancy vest then?"

"Hmmmm" he ponders with both hands on your face looking at the ceiling out if the falling water. " I'm not sure, I mean it was a custom, pretty high going rate those yeah"

"Yeahhhh you're right, you're right. Better factor in the cost of the custom job then hadn't I huh?"

You hurriedly sink to your knees on the tiled floor.

#harry styles #1d #harries #one direction #harry styles fic rec #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles smut #harry styles fandom #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fic #summer feeling fic challenge

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plainlo-inthemorning · 3 years ago

Text

A Loki TVA / Lokane fic that snatched a tempad. Rating T.

Previously: Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 (of 6)

Shine a Light, part 4

This time around, he feels but the faintest glimmer of surprise as he steps out of the doorway and onto a busy sidewalk in Midtown Manhattan.

A few people stop dead in their tracks when the door materializes out of thin air, but the throng of commuters headed to and from Central Station is so dense, Loki’s appearance goes mainly unnoticed.

Dull resignation washes over him.

The tempad is officially broken. Its coordinates locked onto this little planet where, in his own timeline, he has known nothing but defeat.

Without bothering to look for a newsstand, he reasons there’s a strong probability it’s the year 2014. It would seem the damn gadget is slowly counting backwards, while refusing to take him anywhere else in the universe.

Above his head, a billboard flashing on the side of a high-rise building confirms his suspicions.

Incredibly though, the tempad still not out of “juice”. The battery life seems to be making a mockery of his failed attempts to direct the itinerary.

Taking a step out of the moving sea of people, Loki sees little in way of construction sites along the street.

On his timeline, this would have been two years after his attack on the city with Thanos’ army, but if that ‘highlight’ of Loki’s less than acclaimed villainous career took place in this reality as well, the mortals have effectively tidied up after him.

He tries not think of the countless faces frozen in terror that had looked up at him.

Of the lives lost because of his crazed ambition to prove himself - and to destroy something of Thor’s.

Almost if Loki had been transformed back into the chronically jealous five-year-old child who once stole his golden, annoyingly joyful, perfect brother’s favorite model toy - a grey wolf made of clay - and deliberately let it roll down the steps of the throne when their father (his NON-father) had been away.

The toy had broken into pieces and Thor had been inconsolable. Gripped by immediate remorse despite his initial intent, Loki had tried to fix it with his budging magic powers. Only for the wolf to melt to a sticky puddle on the stone floor.

Thor had wailed so loudly, a passing servant had thought him seriously injured and called for their mother, and Loki had been made to apologize, his usually pale cheeks burning scarlet. Then he had been grounded for the remains of the day.

The humiliation had stung, and so had the regret that his magic had failed him.

Not for the first time, the anger had turned, unwarranted (Loki knew then too), towards his brother.

From then on, it had just gotten slowly worse and worse and more malicious right up until that horrible moment of rage no more than a few days ago (a week?), when Loki had driven one of his daggers into Thor’s side on top of the Stark tower.

And twisted it.

The mix of bottomless sadness and shock in his brother’s blue eyes had cut through Loki’s heart with such force he might as well have sunk the blade of his other weapon into his own chest.

But instead of abandoning his pathetic scramble for power and hold Thor, instead of attempting to heal the wound with his magic that has become so formidable in adulthood, Loki had let the poison drown the remains of his sanity.

Of course, shortly afterward, the green monstrosity had effortlessly and repeatedly smashed him into the concrete floor of Stark’s living-quarters until Loki had thought he heard every bone in his supposedly immortal (right!) body break and his skull crack open.

To the outside, it had surely been a suitably entertaining show of retribution, but as he had lain there in the crater of rubble, unable to utter a moan, it was as if all the anger had been knocked out of him.

The link to Thanos’ ungodly servant had been severed and Loki had felt more like himself than he had in a long, long time.

When Thor, looking grimmer than ever, had dragged him to his feet in front of the ragtag band of ‘heroes’ and cuffed him, Loki had found himself strangely elated, on the verge of giddy.

His legs had been so shaky from the beating that Thor had had to hold him by the arm so he wouldn’t fall, and Loki had felt the heat of his brother’s huge hand penetrate the many layers of his own armour.

For a few delirious seconds, Loki had wanted nothing more than to lean against his brother’s strong frame and just close his eyes.

Instead, he had started cracking jokes until Thor had slapped the muzzle on him, as if he were some dog (that gesture had embarrassed him more than anything that had gone before). Unable to keep up his sarcastic commentary as they rode the elevator down, Loki had fleetingly wondered if he was suffering from a psychosis or actual brain damage.

Now, standing on the street so close to where it happened, the memory oozes fresh guilt.

But he redeemed himself.

In his mind, Loki goes through the TVA reel once more to remind himself of the images of his brother later in life, smiling at him.

Right before the end came.

If he is to spend the rest of eternity on Midgard - or at least until the multiverse crumbles - he will try to find solace in the good his future self managed to accomplish.

For Thor and, in another, brighter reality, for her.

The riddle of her part in his life now remains unsolved, but as hard as Loki tries to release the ghost wrapped in his arms, it merely squeezes itself closer to his chest.

He could try to find her here, on this timeline.

She will be with Thor, that much is certain, but since the reel of Loki’s fate had shown him only his own path, he knows not whether Thor and Jane shared a life on Midgard, or somewhere else, up until the brothers reunited (for lack of a better word) on Asgard.

What would Loki even say to her?

That, while at the bureau that controls all space and time, he saw her face on a roll of film of his supposed life, and now he aches for her more than anything? That on an alternate timeline a few hours ago, she kissed him?

Thor would not approve of that exchange.

Also, with Loki’s luck, Thor might be a frog in this reality.

He could still try to use the tempad to transport him to Svartalfheim and his own life’s story, seeing as he is now only year from where he feels so strongly he must go.

But finding the proper timeline is like shooting an arrow into the endless vastness of space and hoping it’ll hit the right comet.

He realizes that now.

An arrow.

Somehow, somewhere, on two timelines no less, variants of him had …

Loki’s head jerks up.

The tower.

It’s a desperate idea at best, but from the (very) little Loki knows of his character, Stark’s superior technical skills go hand in hand with an endlessly hungry, inquisitive mind. And pride.

Much like Loki, Stark is a man who needs to be the smartest man in the room. And like Loki, he probably is, most of time (in fact… no. Don’t go there).

Maybe Stark will listen.

Perhaps he can even help make sense of the tempad if Loki can somehow win his trust and appeal to his curiosity and (he winces a little) heroism.

Was it not Loki’s actions who had helped Stark “realize his best potential”, as his TVA file put it?

He spots the imposing structure further up the street, noticing the huge “A” at the top (is that new?), and sets off towards it at a brisk pace, darting in and out of the crowds on the packed sidewalk.

Here goes nothing.

As he reaches the large glass doors he briefly experiences a dizzying deja-vu, when suddenly a man’s voice calls out to him.

A frighteningly familiar, agitated voice.

… With a particular brand of anger bubbling underneath, that Loki had hoped he’d never have to witness up close ever again.

“What the hell are you doing here??”

His dark, curly hair has a few more streaks of silver. The checkered shirt is slightly crumbled, the glasses a bit askew. He clutches an armful of papers to his chest.

And he’s wearing a furious expression although, thank the Norns, a mortal complexion.

For now.

“Didn’t Tony explicitly tell you not to come here?! Are you that intent on causing everyone to lose their shit again?!”

Worry is all over Doctor Banner’s screwed up face.

“Seriously, Loki, is this funny to you? Clint is actually in the building right now and, in case Tony didn’t already inform you, he’s made it very clear that he’s quitting the team if you were to stroll through the front door!”

The Avenger has started shaking, his eyes wild (too wild).

This is heading in the wrong direction fast.

Mustering all the calm in the world despite his racing pulse and the nauseating sounds of bones breaking echoing in his head, Loki puts on his most courteous and, he dearly hopes, un-cocky charming smile.

“Bruce, please relax. I assure you, I’m not here to cause trouble. Not for you or anyone else.”

“Right, you just happened to be in town and wanted to stop by for coffee? Loki, this …”

Loki gently interrupts him.

“I merely came here to have a conversation with S- … Tony. Perhaps you could let him know I’m here? I promise you, I will not set foot inside. In fact - “

Loki adopts the form of one of the security guards he can see pacing inside the foyer.

“… I’m not even here.”

Bruce jumps a little and clutches his papers even tighter.

“Oh god, I hate when you do that, man. If you think showing off that trick makes anyone any less nervous around you…”

“Doctor Banner - Bruce. I have something …”

Loki searches for the words, quickly trying to decide on how much to reveal to the man-beast who’s now looking at him with urgent expectancy.

He sighs and bets it all.

“Okay. Bruce, what I’m going to say will sound mad.”

The man scoffs.

“Coming from you, I’d expect nothing less.”

Bruce shakes his head and looks to the sky in exasperation.

“Please - please - don’t tell me you’ve gone and changed your mind about the whole not conquering Earth business. Really, Loki, none of us understand how transforming you into ‘an asset’ became Tony’s pet project over this past year, or why Fury went along with it. But I’m sure both are going to be pretty damn disappointed if their new alien BFF decides to embrace his inner psycho again.”

Loki almost chuckles. It’s all too ridiculous.

“I won’t … embrace my inner ‘psycho’, I swear.”

“Then what?”

The God of Mischief draws in a deep breath, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. Or rather, the security guard’s nose.

Then he surrenders to the absurdity of the situation.

“Bruce, I kindly beg of you, is Tony here? Or … (is there hope?) Thor?”

Bruce still looks at him with deep disdain, but his immediate anger seems to have subsided.

“No, Tony’s out of town. Took Pepper somewhere on holiday. They’re not to be disturbed for at least a week. Her words. And Thor … I should think you of all people know perfectly well why he’s not likely to hang around at the time being. Jeez, you guys and your endless family soap opera … I can’t even.”

Naturally, the universe again blankly refuses to extend any hands to Loki and his doomed quest. Sadly, once again, he is not surprised.

Wait - what?

“What do you mean, ‘soap opera’?”

Bruce looks like he’s about to throw his hands over his head and all the papers with them.

“Oh, come on! What is this?! You want approval? Confirmation of your little victory? Doesn’t the very lovely embodiment of that currently walk around in your apartment or wherever it is you live now? Loki, I’m done here. You have to leave. Bye.”

To hell with Stark – Loki wants to grab Bruce by his shirt collar and shake the little man till he explains what in all of Yggdrasil he’s talking about.

But he cannot afford to tempt the beast. Quite literally.

“Then … can you and I go somewhere to talk? Bruce, you’re a man of science. This is science … related.”

Loki feigns a smile.

Bruce sizes him up. No doubt considering whether to let the other guy continue the conversation.

Then his shoulders drop.

“Okay. Okay. For a creepy megalomaniac, you somehow tend to end up with some very cool people defending your case. Just know that those people are absolutely the only reason, you and I are still talking. Ugh, I’m too nice … “

Bruce casts a glance over his shoulder into the foyer, appearing to consider their options, when a man exits the glass doors – and shuffles up to them.

“Bruce! How nice to see you. You look well.”

The old man (those eyes …) grins warmly and pats Bruce on the back, then looks from him to Loki and back again.

“Everything alright out here? Is there a security issue?”

Bruce composes himself and smiles back.

“Hi, Lee, good to see you too. All fine. Earl here was just updating me on, eh, the new security procedures.”

He shoots Loki a stern look.

“Ah, yes”, Loki nods seriously. “Doctor Banner had some trouble operating the intricate open and close mechanism of the doors. The elevator doors, especially.”

He can’t help himself. It’s somehow both immensely tragic and life-affirming.

“Oh?” The old man raises an eyebrow (he looks … but he’s not quite …something is off).

“Will I have to get a new security card? I rarely come in these days, but in case …”

“No, no, that won’t be necessary, Lee. Because, because … like you say, you’re hardly ever here, so …”

Still smiling awkwardly, Bruce waves a dismissive hand, almost dropping the stack of papers (the man’s a terrible liar, Loki thinks).

“Speaking of”, Banner continues, “you must be enjoying retirement up there, huh, Lee? Must be nice to live by the sea. Good … air quality?”

Loki sighs inwardly.

The dog sniffing at his ankles looks up at him.

He stares down at the round, fluffy thing as if seeing it for the first time.

Which he is and he isn’t.

The old man is saying something to Bruce about the countryside, when he notices the dog wagging its tail at Loki’s feet.

“Oh, he likes you. You’re lucky, he normally doesn’t care for strangers. No, you don’t, do you Fenris”, the man coos.

Under coats of thick white fur, the animal looks eagerly from owner to Loki.

“Okay, well, I’ll be off,” the old man says, finally. “Come see me sometime, Bruce. My neighbor actually just put his house on the market, in case you’re looking for a weekend retreat…”

He nods at Bruce, then at Loki who barely notices. The dog whines unhappily at being dragged away.

It’s the same timeline.

Of course, it is. The tempad has locked itself on a sequence.

But why the different locations …?

“Yes, thank you, Lee. Take care now. Earl, shall we?” Bruce signals to Loki to follow him round the side of the building.

“We can continue our discussion about the security issue in the garage”.

“So, let’s hear it. Tell me what you came to say, so I can tell you why it’s a catastrophically bad idea.”

Bruce sits himself across the small table from Loki and dumps the stack of papers in front of him. The top sheet is covered in coffee mug rings.

They are in an anonymous, windowless office somewhere below the vast tower parking lot and numerous in-house repair shops.

The place is a gigantic maze and Loki has just shut himself in a tiny room with the very monster that turned him into ragdoll. The deep slash on his forehead has only just healed.

He does not fear many beings in the universe, but the mild-mannered doctor’s alter ego makes the hit list with the worst of them.

Ignoring the way the hairs on the back of his neck stand up (why did this seem like a good idea?), Loki drops his disguise and takes a seat on the cheap plastic chair. Not much of that flashy Stark glamour down here.

“Okay.” Loki takes out the tempad and puts it in the middle of the table.

He is not quite sure where to start, so he decides to begin with the purely technical aspect.

Bruce might appreciate being given a few ‘scientific’ details before any mentions of giant smoke monsters and alligators.

In fact, the fewer magical creatures and castles in the sky, the better.

“This is called a tempad. It’s a device that makes it possible to travel anywhere in time. You type in your destination, and a doorway opens. I did not make it myself. It was, er, given to me by a large and very powerful organization … in space.”

Bruce is leaning forward to get a better look at the tempad but makes no attempt to reach for it.

As he’s says nothing, Loki continues.

“This is where it gets, uh, weird, but try to believe me when I tell you, I’m not the Loki you know. I’m from another, similar timeline and -“

“Stop.”

“Excuse me?”

“Just stop, Loki.”

Bruce is leaning back on his chair again. He looks tired.

“I don’t know if you’re supremely bored of domestic bliss already, or just being your supremely annoying self, but I won’t engage. You’re not Loki but a time-traveler from space? Yeah, it’s -“

“No, Bruce, I am Loki. Trust me, I know this seems -“

“Trust? You wanna talk about trust again?” Bruce takes out his phone.

“Okay, we can do that.”

He taps a few buttons, then holds the phone to his ear.

“What are you doing?” Loki’s voice has a sharper edge to it than he intended.

The Avenger stares him down.

“Oh, I’m just calling someone. This guy I have in my contacts under God of Lies”.

Please, no …

Briefly, Loki considers whether another variant of him – the one he encountered at the house by the ocean, most likely – would actually be of more help.

Or if he, the variant, would try to kill him.

It was one thing reasoning with and trying not to get killed by Loki variants who at least understood the concept of variants, but how would he have reacted upon being confronted with a twin before the TVA?

No, not a twin … Because this variant has her.

None of the variants in the Void – the grown-up, human ones – had mentioned versions of her.

Either this variant has successfully taken out every Minute Man ever sent by the TVA to arrest him (in which case, Loki concedes, he may be the superior Loki), or this whole timeline has only just blossomed at the opening of the multiverse.

Why else would he, who apparently also gave his phone number to Bruce Banner, get to live a life so vastly different from the typical arc of a misguided Jotun prince?

Loki feels light-headed.

On one hand, he wants to know everything there is to know about his double, on the other, he fears what and who he might find.

You don’t belong here. Find your own timeline. No more Lokis.

Focus. Explain.

He raises his one hand in a placating gesture.

“Give me a little time to try and explain this, Bruce, and then, then … You can call whoever. Call everyone! But please just -“

“Oh, what do you know,” Bruce puts his phone down, “there’s no answer. What a surprise.”

He crosses his arms.

Loki inhales and tries again, speaking as evenly and as calmly as he can while his frustration mounts:

“There is no way of telling you all or any of this without it sounding utterly ludicrous, so you’ll have to hear me out. Five minutes uninterrupted from now, okay? Yes, we’re talking time travel, but compared to what’s really at stake, even time travel is a pretty basic technicality. Also, I promise you, in a few years’ time from now, the concept of time travel won’t seem all that laughable to you and Stark in particular. Provided this reality exists in a few years’ time seeing as -“

Bruce sighs dramatically.

“Yes, okay, so”, Loki continues, “Two years ago, I attacked New York, right?”

“If you’re about to roll out some outlandish excuse – another one! – I don’t care to hear it.”

The other man is narrowing his eyes as a fresh look of undistilled loathing creeps into his features.

So it did happen on this timeline as well.

“No, it’s not that. Or, I mean, let’s save that. When you captured me, in my timeline, I escaped from the lobby with the Infinity stone. I know it seems impossible from your end of events but - “

“Impossible?”

Bruce gives him a strange look Loki can’t quite interpret.

“Yes, S… Tony dropped the briefcase with the Infinity stone, and I picked it up and -“

Bruce pushes his chair back. The plastic scrapes loudly against the stone tiles of the floor.

“Loki, I can’t. I thought I had the patience to at least indulge you but turns out I don’t. I can’t tell if you’re losing your mind, but either way, you’ll have to take it – this, whatever it is – up with Tony instead when he gets back. Maybe bring that sweet lab partner of yours along if you’re going to talk time travel. With her field of expertise, I’m sure - “

“WILL YOU SHUT UP AND LISTEN TO ME!”

Without thinking, Loki slams both his hands into the table. Papers go flying and Bruce staggers backwards.

Horror dawns as Loki realizes his error, but it’s already too late.

Bruce doubles over in spasms and a deep, much too deep, growling sound escapes his lips. He grips his head with his shaking hands as if trying to contain the explosion within, and Loki feels his own brain go numb with panic as one of those hands triples in size and a sickly green hue rapidly spreads.

There is no way out.

Bruce is blocking the door and soon his bulk will be taking up the entire room. He falls to his knees, arms thrashing wildly and his shirt ripping across his back. The table sails over Loki’s head, one of the chairs lodges itself in the soundproofed ceiling, causing the panels of fluorescent light to flicker madly.

Are there no security cameras?!

There are screams, but they no longer sound human.

Loki has nowhere to hide.

He has to gather his magic around him, but terror is completely scattering his focus, cold sweat breaking out all over his body.

It is a matter of seconds before the transformation will be complete and the monster attempts to tear him limb from limb. With no heroes to stop it.

Cold.

He has only consciously reached for it once before, but now the thought barely registers before ice rushes through him as if by instinct. Bruce is not the only one with an abomination lurking under the surface.

He doesn’t have the casket of his birth father, but he has strength.

There is no time to consider if it’s enough or nothing at all. No time for crippling self-loathing or shame.

In front of him, the Hulk lifts its crazed, bloodshot eyes to meet his.

The green creature cannot stand upright in the office, and the first fist goes through the ceiling with the force of a wrecking ball. The next lashes out at Loki, who dodges it just as his own skin turns a deep, brilliant blue.

Little black ridges and markings rise on his arms and face and though his sight doesn’t falter, he feels the instant his eyes go from green to bright red. The fabric of his clothes chafes his new skin and waves of adrenaline surge through his body. Multiple foreign senses come alive and drown his fear.

But he has not a breath to spare to get used to his true form before the Hulk shoves him against the wall so hard, the bricks shift against his side as if they were made of a child’s building blocks.

The impact makes him gasp for air, yet the pain … the pain he can manage.

He just has to last long enough get out of here. And the cold is crystalizing his focus to let the magic flow easily, powerfully through his hands.

His blue hands.

If he had used this when …

Loki pushes himself off the wall (out of it) and almost collides with the Hulk (there’s no space left to maneuver in) who, instead of smashing its way out, seems hell-bent on squashing the only living thing in its line of sight first.

Loki swiftly crouches down on one knee, puts his palms together and, faster than the blink of a brilliant crimson eye, conjures a rotating orb of ice and chaos energy that explodes in a blinding flash of white light as he hurls it square into the monster’s chest.

The Hulk falls back, breaking through the wall to the parking lot on the other side and crashing into a row of cars, while a sheath of ice spreads from its chest and up its neck. The being that is not Bruce howls and claws at its skin, but the smooth ice thickens and as it reaches the head of the beast, it slides right into its eye sockets – and momentarily blinds it.

It will probably only last seconds but it’s all Loki needs while the Hulk shakes its head furiously.

He makes to flee when he spots the tempad on the cracked floor.

He can’t leave it.

As Loki dives for the gadget, the Hulk simultaneously knocks itself in the face with both fists, splintering the ice into a rain of tiny spikes. With a roar to match the sound of a spaceship engine taking off, the creature lunges.

Loki’s fingers close around the tempad.

He feels a buzz.

The door appears in front of him.

He doesn’t stop to think before throwing himself through it.

The Hulk punches into empty air.

Part 5

#loki #loki series #tva loki #lokane fanfic #lokane ff #lokane #loki x jane #marvel #loki ff #loki fanfic #shine a light #plainlo inthemorning #loki laufeyson

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crockettmarcel · 3 years ago

Note

I’m very curious about village of light if you don’t mind talking about it :)

hello sorry for taking so long to get to this!! I was trying to think of the best way to answer it without spoiling the fic I have in the works (rotting in my brain with not a single word written down)

anyway <3 tw for cults, manipulation, and everything else that comes with that

i haven't fully decided yet, but i'm p sure i'm going to set the au in the 80s. this is only relevant for aesthetic purposes

sarah and crockett are both in med school, in one of those weird on/off relationships, bc neither of them can rlly decide what they want. however, they both care about each other very much - there are no bad feelings in their relationship, just confusing ones

anyway. often on campus, there are people with pamphlets, talking about spirituality and ways to reduce/cope with stress, and the fact that these two are linked. everything's very vague, but crockett takes an interest anyway. med school is killing him, and a little bit of stress relief couldn't hurt

he finds out that the people with the pamphlets are from a community an hour outside of chicago called the Village of Light. everything they tell crockett sounds appealing - living in close proximity with other people, almost as one big family, getting most of what they need to survive from the land, taking part in sessions designed to help people feel happier and calmer. plus, although there is a certain amount of rent to live there, it's significantly cheaper than the rent crockett's paying for his apartment

they promise that he can still attend classes even if he's living with them, so he packs up his most important belongings, and drives out there

this was all during one of his "off" periods with sarah, so it took a few weeks for her to realise that he'd moved out. when she did though, she immediately went looking for him. one of his friends told her about Village of Light, described it as some weird hippy commune that crockett wouldn't stop talking about, but she didn't care. she missed him and she wanted to see him again

by this point, crockett's realised something's up and he's planning how to leave VoL. then sarah turns up, and she's immediately enamoured with the place

everyone's so nice to her, including the leader, ava, so she convinces crockett to at least let her stay the night (ava had already said she's more than welcome)

one night turns into two, which turns into three, and then something happened to sarah that put her in a v vulnerable position. ava convinced her to stay longer, that this was the best place to be while she processed everything, so she agreed (even though crockett was trying to get her to leave)

ava becomes obsessed with sarah, granting her special privileges that even her most loyal followers don't get, and within a few weeks, sarah's completely under ava's spell. she thinks she's a blessing, the greatest person to ever walk this earth, and she's confused as to why crockett would ever want to leave

anyway this is all i'm saying for now bc i don't want to spoil too much so yeah!! my aus are so dark rn and it's bc i've been watching too much criminal minds akjsdshskj

#ask #chicago med #vol!au #sarah reese #ava bekker #crockett marcel

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unintentionalgenius · 3 years ago

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ok @ongreenergrasses tagged me to do this and that's how I know we're made for each other bc tagging me in things is my love language

1. How many works do you have on AO3? 20, but 13 of those shouldn't count because they're Sherlock and I am not that person anymore

2. What’s your total AO3 word count? ok I had hopes that there was some way to do this besides doing, you know, math. but. it's 169,674

3. What are your top 5 fics by kudos? shockingly, #1 is Death and John Watson; or, Five Times John Watson Met Death and the One Time He Died at 615 kudos. If you'd asked me what was going to top this list I never in a million years would have said this one. I might have to re-read this now.

What I would have said actually comes in at #2, the (almost complete, dear g-d I'm so close) Come then, and be broken at 376 kudos.

#3 my beloved, my eldest daughter of a fic, Put Away Childish Things at 223.

#4 is astoundingly another Sherlock fic, this one creatively titled Five Times John Woke Up to Sherlock and One Time He Didn't (it's not bullying if it's past me I'm making fun of, right?).

#5 is a tie, with 60 kudos each, but they're part of the same series: A Great Man and Something Like Beginning, from my Sherlock kidfic (and incidentally how i met Hayls in the first place!).

I'm really committed to preserving my ~journey~ as a writer, but the outsized prevalence of Sherlock fic on my profile is making me question that decision. I feel like it's false advertising for who I am as a person now. 😅

4. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? I try to! It might not be in a timely fashion, and honestly sometimes I feel weird about it, but I do go through and answer a few at a time when I have a few minutes.

5. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending? I refuse to re-read the Sherlock fic just to confirm, but I think Childish Things wins by a landslide anyway. Fic where John or Sherlock died was a dime a dozen back in the day whereas "[a genderswapped] stiles helps peter kill her best friend" is still a very particular, unique twist of the knife.

6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending? this is probably going to be that Sherlock kidfic verse!

7. Do you write crossovers? If so what’s the craziest one you’ve written? I absolutely do not write crossovers. No offense to anyone who does, but I simply do not understand the appeal.

8. Have you ever received hate on a fic? It was less about the fic and more about the fact that I pointed out 911 has some copaganda elements via a fic's tags, but yes.

9. Do you write smut? If so what kind? I now, as of literally the most recent chapter of the most recent work I posted, have to admit that I do technically write smut. It's super cerebral, feely smut, but you do read two people having sex, so like. guilty.

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen? I don't think I have written any fics worth stealing but if it's happened I don't know about it

11. Have you ever had a fic translated? nope!

12. Have you ever co-written a fic before? nope! I have co-written things in Real Life and I honestly don't think I have anyone that I would want to write fic with like that. HOWEVER I do have a beloved sounding board in @ragequilt

13. What’s your all time favorite ship? i literally cannot answer this, there is no way I can say decisively

14. What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will? I had this fic from when the first of the new star wars movies came out where everyone thinks poe is dead, so finn has to become a person on his own, essentially, rather than being taught/hand-held by poe which I felt like I was seeing a lot in fic. The whole thing was epistolary, a diary that finn's therapist had him start keeping, which he then started writing to Poe. That's pretty firmly abandoned at this point, but it still haunts me and I wish I had finished it.

15. What are your writing strengths? Hayls once told me I'm really good at dialogue, and I actually think that's true. I'm also pretty good at atmosphere, I think, though no one has ever said exactly that. I do think I'm good at characterization, and that for me is really tied to how I do dialogue. I would honestly accept any commentary anyone wants to offer on the subject, though

16. What are your writing weaknesses? PLOT. not like, emotional arcs or a character's journey or whatever but. the ticky little nuts and bolts of how we get from a to z, especially when it requires a tight plot of external action. I always think about myself as (to quote @ragequilt here) someone who writes hurt/comfort, not casefic, and this is why. I'm rarely interested in writing the finer details of a mystery or an extravagant plot full of courtly intrigue. I'm probably bad at other things, too, but this is the one that stands out like a glaring neon sign to me.

17. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic? I think in almost every case it's not necessary UNLESS it's being done for effect - that is, if I intentionally want the reader not to know what's said. Otherwise, I'm just going to put the switch to french/spanish/hebrew/arabic/mandarin in the narration. One exception to this for me, which is really just a sub-clause under the "only for effect" rule, is when I'm writing canonically bilingual characters who would employ words or phrases in both their languages in the same sentence. Some of this is characterization - Eddie Diaz speaks Spanish or Spanglish around his family; someone writing me wouldn't be writing me properly if they didn't write the Hebrew/Yiddish/English patois that I speak in Jewish spaces. I don't want my writing to read like the over-translated subtitles you sometimes see where loan words are translated, thereby rendering the subtitles actually less intelligible. It's a delicate balance and I wouldn't guarantee I get it write all the time, especially when it comes to not othering a character I'm writing. (also @ hayls I am one of those people who always/almost always says Hashem instead of g-d 😂 for me it's a way of making sure people don't think I'm talking about Christian God™️) You will notice, though, that I do have a tipping point implicitly delineated here - if someone is speaking another language for whole sentences, I'm just going to put that in the narration; single words or phrases will be written as spoken.

18. What was the first fandom you wrote for? Sherlock (womp womp)

19. What’s a fandom/ship you haven’t written for yet but want to? I've never written Destiel fic, and while at this point you might be wondering what on earth there is left to say via fic about that pairing, I have a lil thing bubbling around in my brain about bodily autonomy vs. trauma vs. helping someone not suffer from their trauma while violating whatever the brain equivalent is of bodily autonomy.

20. What’s your favorite fic you’ve written? whyyyy would you ask someone this, it's like asking someone to pick a favorite child. the answer will change tomorrow, but right now I think it's the still-WIP sequel to Childish Things, A Twisted Thing Cannot Be Made Straight. It's got fun witchy!Stiles, buckets of angst but also lots of fun pack shenanigans in flashbacks, lots of me working out my own feelings about childbirth and raising children, ambiguous relationships, belated grappling with trauma, and also a satisfyingly bloody climax. There are some scenes there that still give me chills to read, and I wrote them.

@ragequilt I want to see yours!

#fic #AO3 #mine #tagged

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mordoriscalling · 4 years ago

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Steals Once More (Again and Again)

Gosh, I finally wrote some Bagginshield! This fic (also available on AO3) is a gift to LadyLaran, @huskergal93 @porphyriosao3 and @corruptedchopsticks Hope you like it! :3

The first surprise of the day comes rather late, in mid-afternoon.

Balin hands him a parchment to read – a draft of a contract between the miner’s guild and the jeweller’s guild. Thorin skims over the major points and focuses his attention on the text in finer print. The letters are blurry, however, no matter how hard he squints, so he reaches into the inside pocket of his coat to retrieve his glasses.

They aren’t there.

With a frown, he searches through all the pockets of his attire but still doesn’t find them, even though he clearly recalls taking them with him before he kissed Bilbo goodbye in the morning. Bilbo returned the kiss with much fervour and soon, they were both running their hands all over each other’s bodies, just a step away from undressing. Thorin had to leave their rooms with great regret.

“Your Majesty?” Balin asks, snapping the King Under the Mountain out of his pleasant train of thought.

With an apologetic smile, Thorin answers, “Forgive me, my friend, but I must go get my glasses. I always forget that my eyesight isn’t as good as it once was.”

Balin’s eyes twinkle all too knowingly, as if he saw right through the little lie.

Since he’d like to be done with his duties for the day as soon as possible, Thorin takes all the shortcuts that lead to Erebor’s library. He prides himself in in the fact that few dwarves in the Mountain know all the hidden corridors as well as he does. His ability to navigate through his kingdom like this certainly has come in handy over the years. Thorin can’t help but recall the period of time before the official announcement of his courtship with Bilbo, when the secret passages proved to be especially useful. They used them a lot to meet without the public’s knowledge until the Hobbit was absolutely sure he wanted to marry Thorin. The role of the Consort came with many obligations and expectations and the Hobbit had to be certain about it before they entered their courtship. The hidden hall leading from the Princes' rooms to the King's chambers witnessed many of the Hobbit's attempts at gaining the certainty. Bilbo called all the sneaking around ridiculous yet even he couldn’t deny that there was a certain thrill to it.

Now, five years later, there’s no need for such exciting secrecy. Ever since Bilbo accepted that he would become a Consort, he’s been managing to live up to the role very well. The Hobbit does get overwhelmed sometimes, especially that the enthusiasm of Durin’s Folk about his person still hasn’t ceased, and seeks out solitude on such moments. Bilbo’s reclusiveness only adds to his public appeal, much to his despair and Thorin’s amusement.

Master Burglar keeps stealing, not only people's hearts.

When Thorin enters the library, he finds Ori, who points him to Bilbo wordlessly. The Hobbit is sitting by a desk, coping some book in Khuzdul. It’s a scandal on its own but, despite the many protests of the majority of Thorin’s subjects, including Bilbo’s most ardent admirers, hiding their sacred tongue from the Hobbit was for naught. The Consort started picking up the language on his own by listening to it being spoken around him. It was inevitable that at some point Bilbo started learning Khuzdul from books, and Durin’s Folk could only give him a very begrudged permission.

Thorin walks up to his Hobbit husband slowly so as not to startle him. Bilbo must hear his approach but gives no reaction. As Thorin stands directly behind him, he bends down and wraps his arms around Bilbo, his cheek resting on the top of the Hobbit’s head.

“Good afternoon, my treasure,” Thorin greets him.

“Hello, dearest,” Bilbo answers, not stopping what he’s doing, “What brings you here?”

Thorin smiles and lays a kiss on Bilbo’s cheek. “Apart from you stealing my heart all over again, as you do every day,” he says, and Bilbo huffs a fond ‘silly dwarf’ under his breath, “you’ve taken something else from me this morning.”

Bilbo lets out an innocent hum. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Bilbo,” Thorin says sternly, “give them back.” Bilbo ignores him and keeps copying the book. Thorin sighs. “Light of all lights,” he murmurs into Bilbo’s ear, “I need my glasses.”

The Hobbit lets out a heavy breath, puts quill away and wriggles out of Thorin’s arms. The King stands back so that his Consort can rise from his seat. When Bilbo turns around, there’s a mischievous sparkle in his eyes.

“I do have them,” he answers, “But I won’t give them to you.”

“Bilbo,” Thorin warns.

Bilbo leans in, his voice turning husky, “Take them yourself. Search all of my pockets. Thoroughly.”

Thorin inhales sharply. Careless of whether they’re being watched or not, he steps closer to his husband so that their bodies are only a few inches apart. “My burglar,” he murmurs, his lips almost brushing over Bilbo’s, “you maddening creature. Give them back. I still have duties to attend to before I can take thorough care of you.”

“I know, my sun,” Bilbo replies softly, laying a hand on Thorin’s beard. Thorin’s heart flutters at the loving endearment. It never ceases to amaze him how easily the words leave Bilbo’s mouth, knowing how highly hobbits value the sun and light. “It’s just that...” Bilbo sighs. “Well. I should do something to uphold my burglar status from time to time, and if this has you coming to me during the day... I’d say it’s killing two birds with one stone.”

The King chuckles and brushes his knuckles against the Consort’s cheek. The touch makes the Hobbit smile. “There’s no need to prove your skills, Ghivahsel,” Thorin says, “You’re already the greatest thief Middle Earth has ever known.”

Bilbo makes a show of considering the trueness of this statement, then replies, “Seeing that I’ve stolen Thorin Oakenshield’s heart...” His tone is playful, and a cheeky grin lights up his face. “I think so, yes.”

Thorin doesn’t deny the truth when he hears one and just kisses his husband. Bilbo lets out a happy little hum and Thorin is in love with him all over again. Soon after that, the situation from the morning quickly repeats itself, which isn’t a surprise at all, and the two break apart only when Ori clears his throat right next to them.

When Thorin finally heads back to Balin, he nearly forgets to take the glasses with him.

***

A/N: I have this headcanon that hobbits, since their love all things that grow so much, regard endearments referring to sun and light as the most loving. Sun and its light give life and make things grow, so to say that "you're my sun" or "my light" is to say that I live thanks to you, or I simply couldn't live without you, that you give me strength and encourage me to grow.

Thank you for reading!

#myfic #bagginshield #bilbo x thorin #the hobbit fanfiction #bilbo remains in erebor au #established relationship

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lokislittlesigyn · 4 years ago

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OG616 : Thor 1 - Pt.8 [Epilogue]

[My masterlist, where all parts of this and my other fics can be found]

Pairing: Loki / Sigyn (basically an oc based off the marvel/myth namesake)

Warnings: None.

Author’s Note: This is a shorter part, with two different POVs as we leave the first part of the story and move onto the next...!

Taglist: @high-functioning-lokipath

To be added to the taglist, just ask me here or send a message! <3 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thor had arrived on Earth with a storm in tow, immediately finding that Loki was captured by humans. After a brief argument on a mountainside, and a slightly less brief altercation between him and two warriors that ended with half of a forest being leveled, he boarded their flying ship called the Helicarrier and resolved to talk some sense into his brother.

He’d already tried to appeal to Loki’s humanity once.

"I thought you dead." He had said, a mix of sadness and anger welling up inside of him. He’d wanted his brother back, certainly - but hadn’t considered how his brother might be if he did return.

Now that cold reality faced him, staring him down with utter hatred.

"Did you mourn?"

"We all did. Me, Mother - Sigyn most of all."

Loki tensed.

Maybe Thor could get through to him.

"Our father-"

"Your father," Loki held up his hand, wrenching himself from Thor's grip.

"He did tell you my true parentage, did he not?"

Thor sighed, walking through the winding halls of the Helicarrier. That talk hadn’t ended well. In fact it had hadn’t properly ended at all - a rough interruption by Tony Stark meant too much had been left unsaid.

Eventually, he reached Loki’s room.

It was a holding cell, designed for a creature the mortals called The Hulk. The alter-ego, apparently, of a quiet scientist named Banner.

The door shut behind him as Thor stepped into the room, not stopping until he reached a viewing area for the cell. Sure enough, Loki was inside, scrutinizing his every move with a calculating gaze.

"I do not wish to entertain long conversation with you, Loki. I only wish to keep a promise."

The trickster stepped closer, intrigued.

It was a promising sign. If anything could sway Loki, it was the people he loved. Perhaps this would get through to him, would convince him to finally come home.

"Sigyn wanted me to tell you, she loves you. She still loves you. She always will, no matter what."

Clenching his jaw, Loki lowered his gaze.

"She wept for you. Countless nights, she wailed in agony. Longing for you, missing you."

Loki swallowed.

Thor continued, "And to this day, she has defended you. She speaks on your behalf, tries to convince everyone you're still a good man." He shifted his weight. "She has remained completely loyal to you."

Loki looked back up at him.

Silence.

Dead silence.

Thor clenched his fists. "Do you not care? Has this power so corrupted you that you forget your own family?"

"Of course I-" Loki stopped himself, hissed a sigh. "I have not forgotten her."

"Yet you never once reached out for her. Never once sought her, even before you fell."

Loki glared at him. "I was protecting her."

"You were protecting yourself."

"You know nothing of my intentions," Loki sneered, "If you are done relaying the message, leave."

Thor exhaled a deep sigh, and left without another word.

~~~~

Loki watched Thor leave, watched the door close with a soft whish behind him. And once again, he was completely alone.

Or so he thought.

He turned, freezing when he caught the eye of another. Brown eyes. Soft and deep, gleaming with tears.

He exhaled a tense breath, his brow furrowing.

His wife stood before him. She looked older, now, and wiser - or perhaps pain masqueraded as wisdom. She looked thin. Pale. Hurt.

"Sigyn?" His voice didn't sound like his own - it sounded feeble. Fragile. But as he looked at his wife, he realized the edges of her looked flat.

An illusion in the glass.

He relaxed, but only slightly, as she cried. She couldn't speak. Wouldn't speak? He moved closer.

Say something. Don't just stand there and-

He blinked. The vision of her disappeared, not a trace left. He stopped in his tracks, letting his fingertips hover a hair's breadth from the glass, from the place her cheek had been. Her face...

He closed his eyes. Let a stray tear roll down his cheek. Something flooded in his mind, something murky and heavy.

"You have a job to do," snarled a voice that had become all too familiar.

The Other.

A chill ran down his spine, but he dared not show it. The voice continued, "Do not indulge in such meaningless distractions."

"I am not so easily distracted." Loki stood in the dark, now, for a moment. In the crushing darkness of that horrid place, the one place he truly feared. But he wouldn’t show that fear. No, he couldn’t. They could never know how terrified he really was.

He stood his ground as The Other sneered, staring with an eyeless gaze.

He stared right back. "Rally your troops. Soon, I will open the gateway - victory will be ours."

"Victory will be his." The Other spat. "As all should be."

Loki clenched his jaw.

"Do not disappoint him, Asgardian... Or he will, perhaps, prevent further distractions." The creature's hand found its way to his face. Loki jerked away as a searing pain flashed through his body - and his eyes opened, faced only with blank glass.

He had to push any thought of her from his mind. Had to protect her.

They had already seen too much, and if he revealed much more...

No. No, He could never know about her.

Loki gulped at the thought.

Never.

#loki x sigyn #loki fanfic #logyn #OG616 #Thor1

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zktop10 · 4 years ago

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Top 10 NEW in October 2020!

October added 178* stories to our collection!

Explicit content means it goes under the cut! Also, please make sure to read the tags for any items on your squick list.

Title: The Sun, the Moon, and the Truth Author: senlinyu Rated: M Summary: The war is won but after years, rebuilding is still slow and tenuous.

Katara feels homeless. Everyone else has found a place for themselves after the war. Zuko is the Fire Lord. Aang is the Avatar restoring the Air Nomad nation. Toph has founded a metalbending school in the Earth Kingdom. Sokka has taken the lead beside their father in the Southern Water Tribe’s rebuilding and modernization process.

It seems there’s no place left that needs Katara. Score: 10 / 10 Tags: One Shot, Canon Compliant, Forbidden Love, Mutual Pining, Infidelity

Title: 25 Reasons To Visit Your Local Dungeon Author: zutaralover94 Rated: E Summary: Katara is given a new writing assignment at her job at Warrior Magazine. (One that is not in her expertise.) The assignment? 25 Reasons To Visit Your Local Sex Dungeon. This was a long way away from her normal wardrobe 'how to's. So, research is mandatory. Which means visiting her local sex dungeon: The Blue Spirit.

Zuko, the best rigger The Blue Spirit has, is entrusted with the newbie. He was looking forward to taking down all of this pristine writer's walls.

(This is terrible summary for this is Kinktober 2020) Score: 10 / 10 Tags: Kinktober, Smut, WIP

Title: Mate Author: sparrowkeet1 Rated: E Summary: Sokka wants to know when Zuko and Katara are going to produce a cousin for his six-month-old. Zuko finds the whole prospect far more appealing than he expected.

Early entry for Kinktober 2020, Day 12 - Breed Kink. Written as a sequel to Purr but can stand alone.

Series Part 3 of Purr-verse Score: 9.8 / 10 Tags: Kinktober, Smut, Series, Complete

Title: The Summer of the Switching Sickness Author: FictionIsSocialInquiry Rated: E Summary: He sighs. Loudly. ‘Here’s what’s going to happen.’ Katara peeks at him through her fingers. ‘First, we’re going to agree right now that we will never tell any of our friends about this. Ever. Especially Sokka and Toph. Deal?’

Katara nods fervently. ‘Deal.’ - The summer of the Switching Sickness puts a strain on relations between the Fire Nation and Southern Water Tribe... It's probably better for everyone involved if no one else finds out why. Score: 9.8 / 10 Tags: Smut, Body Swap, Complete

Title: (if my wishes came true) it would have been you Author: TheDescension Rated: T Summary: Katara overshares on the internet. Zuko makes it a point to only lurk. Good thing there's nothing tying their online adventures to their real lives — right?

Or, Katara and Zuko have something of a history, and when they reconnect after months of silence, there could be more going on behind the scenes than they realize.

[Graphic Format: Uses HTML and CSS]

Score: 9.7 / 10 Tags: Alternate Universe, Modern Setting, Social Media, WIP

PLAIN TEXT VERSION HERE

Title: Wildfire Author: rainstormdragon Rated: E Summary: 'Stop thinking about him,' was the wrong answer to give her, Zuko knew. So was 'I never want to stop touching you' and 'we could keep doing it, he doesn’t have to find out.' Aang was one of his best friends. He trusted Zuko to act honorably. And Zuko had just had passionate, drunk sex with the woman Aang loved. Katara was right. They were horrible people.

Series Part 3 of ATLA Smut Score: 9.3 / 10 Tags: Series, Smut, Complete

Title: I Asked You First Author: halfhoursonearth Rated: T Summary: After leaving Yon Rha’s village, Zuko finds a way to draw Katara out of her distress, and she begins to seek out his company. In late night conversations, they discover themselves and each other.

This story picks up after The Southern Raiders and carries through and past the series—at some point in the middle, leaving canon behind. Because these two intense kids deserve the chance to feel known, banter with a worthy opponent, examine the legacy of the world they’re fighting for, and—of course—fall in love. Score: 9.2 / 10 Tags: Alternate Universe, Canon Divergence, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, WIP

Title: See Me Feel Me Touch Me Heal Me Author: gemgirl28 Rated: G Summary: Because Toph knows everything, she is the first member of Team Avatar to realize how touch starved Zuko is.

A short fic in which Toph knows everything, Zuko is touch starved, and Toph's going to help. And maybe spread a little chaos as well. Begins at The Western Air Temple. Score: 8.9 / 10 Tags: One Shot, Fluff

Title: Give It Up Author: Lliyk Rated: E Summary: Katara’s world takes a sharp left. Zuko makes sure that she knows he’s there for her.

In a flash the image in her mind shifts and changes. Saliva pools in from her bottom canines. An angry, aching pulse of need flushes through her core. A shiver works it’s way down her spine, and she thinks she might just vibrate right out of her rebelling skin.

“Of course you want it my way.” Zuko is saying, eyes closed and taking deep breaths through the part of his reddened lips. His thumb graces the line of her neck. “I knew...” He mutters, then, with topaz eyes locking with hers: “Do you trust me?”

Her breathless answer is as automatic as the affront that pulls at her mouth. “I trust you.” She says. “Of course I trust you.” Score: 8.8 / 10 Tags: Alternate Universe, Canon Divergence, Smut, WIP, A/B/O

Title: watch the ripples change their size Author: SafelyCapricious Rated: G Summary: Zuko should’ve drowned when he was three. It’s not something he remembers — his mother, called away, had been forced to leave the children with a nanny, despite her feelings of dread that something terrible was going to happen. She’d been much relieved when she’d returned to her darling boy, sleeping peacefully, little hand curled around a stone from the turtleduck pond, and her sweet girl burbling away angrily in her crib.

For Katara there are many close calls, where she thinks the fire should have hit her but it miraculously doesn’t — but it’s when Aang is practicing and she sees the flame coat her skin for an instant that she knows.

Series Part 4 of ain't no grave can hold my body down Score: 8.7 / 10 Tags: Alternate Universe, Canon Divergence, Soulmates, Series, One Shot

#zutara #fanfiction #rec list #top 10 #new in october

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artificialqueens · 4 years ago

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Sanctuary (Jalaska) - Grinder

AN: Wow…been a hot minute since I posted anything to AQ. Currently working on a series but decided I should give myself a wee break and write something else. This is a songfic based on Sanctuary by Joji whom I absolutely adore. And, who knows, maybe I’ll write more Joji inspired fics and make it a collection. Anyway, I hope y'all enjoy! Stay safe!

Lots of love to all the discord people for helping me with this and, especially @artificialeevee and V. If anyone of you are thinking about joining the server, do it!

The year is 9872. And I’ve fucking had it.

The name’s Jinkx Monsoon; intergalactically tolerated American space Historian, a linguist of 3 human languages, and 4 alien languages.

Location: Space somewhere.

I have a question; Is it wrong to destroy the only housekeeper on your ship, an AI bot whose sole purpose is to clean and only clean? It’s nothing personal against the bot. It’s just…the thought of thriving as a glamorous space housewife for an hour or two is very appealing to me at this moment.

You see, life on the Sanctuary ship isn’t exactly exciting anymore.

Dumb name. The place is anything but a sanctuary. Ivy and I just call it ‘Big Debbie.’

Speaking of Ivy, she’s fallen asleep at the wheel again. Yes, this has happened before—a few times. The first time, we all had a laugh about it. The second time, we joked about how it was becoming a habit. But the third time, it was starting to kind of get on the Captain’s nerves.

The ship has been spinning in slow circles for half an hour now. Shea storms in, flicks Ivy in the ear, waking her up. I breathe a laugh out of my nostrils as Ivy rolls her eyes. The ship stops spinning and is back on course. Destination? Nowhere.

I notice how Shea looks at me now as I sit my feet up on the controls. She looks like she wants to say something. But what is there to even say? She shares my exact thought and leaves the room.

I look at Ivy as she types away on her keyboard, a bowl of yogurt in my hand, cold spoon in the other. “What are you thinking about?”

“All the fuel we’re wasting.” She puts on a fake smile, hiding her frustration.

Before I get another chance to speak, Phi Phi sits in the other pilot seat, next to me, and slaps my feet off the control panel. “Can we please avoid accidents?”

“What’s the fun in that?” I sulk. Heck, at least it would give us all something to talk about.

Who even are we anymore? And how did we get here?

Let me explain.

-_-_-_-

9869. 3 Years Ago

“Be warned, Monsoon; If you mess this up, you’re out of here.” Alyssa’s words ran circles in my head.

I resisted the urge to grab a glass of complimentary wine as I walked around the exhibition room, nodding and offering a fake smile to the attendees. The wine probably tasted like ass. These folks loved that type of stuff. I wasn’t part of their social class, not used to such tastes, so it was a hard pass on the booze. However I hoped my green emerald tea dress told them that I was one of them. Not that it would have mattered anyway. To them, I was just staff. But I knew I was so much more than that.

I was pretty good at hiding my nerves. This opportunity wasn’t given to just anyone, something I have waited on for a long time. I was to host an entire exhibition, the Universal Museum of Space History’s Lost Treasures reveal. A “One Night Only” event with a guest list of people who probably ate breakfast with a second cousin to a Royal at least once in their lives. And I couldn’t fuck it up. I couldn’t.

Before I walked into the room that night, I was just a tour guide, and in the current Century, it wasn’t as glamorous as it sounded. My manager, Alyssa insisted that we stick to the science-y feel. Instead of having an actual real live tour guide, we just used a hologram instead. And that hologram was yours truly. Groovy, right?

But this event? This meant opportunities. A possible promotion! And not to mention, I would be a part of something big. I was blessed with the task of unveiling a one of a kind artifact. No one knew where it came from. Or the real name. But they called it the Revitalization Grain. The name didn’t do it justice.

This pretty, glowy stone brought forth the growth of nature, crops, and resources. If I was a saleswoman, this is the part I’d say, “But wait! There’s more.” It had healing properties, offered a sort of hit, and even brought someone back from the dead (apparently).

Standing in that room, with all the aristocrats surrounding me, I was the only person who knew all that. The amount of digging and snooping around I had to go through to obtain this information was extensive.

Of course, not everything about the stone was known yet; where it came from, if it was life-form made or natural, or what its real name was.

I passed a Glarglaxian, and she wriggled her scaled fingers in a wave at me. I asked her how she was doing. Not that I cared. It was all about being a good hostess. But I really wanted to grab her and say, “Wait 'til you see the shit we’re about to pull out.” The excitement was getting to me.

Greeting a few others, I saw the tall woman standing in front of a floor-length window, staring out at the galaxy and sipping her wine. Damn, she looked classy in her long black mermaid dress, her blonde hair falling to her lower back. She looked human; therefore, I guessed that was what she was.

She seemed lonely, and I had to be a good little hostess and make her feel welcome. I walked up to her and cleared my throat. She turned to look at me, and I swear her eyes were black pits. She blinked, and I saw her eyes were actually just a dark brown. Maybe it was just the lighting in the place.

“I hope everything is up to a satisfactory standard for you, ma'am.” I started before spurting out a few other statements.

“Yes,” she drawled, “I’m having a ball.”

I rose on my toes and lowered to the ground again. “I can see that.”

“Well…if I could make one improvement, I would have chosen someone else for the entertainment. Someone more…electronic.” The woman said, her eyes trailing behind me.

I looked around to the other side of the room, where Cher was singing something a bit more slow and soft for her tastes. Yes, we bagged Cher for this gig. The woman was centuries old and still an absolute diva. How she hadn’t been given her own planet yet was beyond me. I think her Mom was in the crowd too.

“I couldn’t agree more with you, ma'am.” I looked back at the blonde.

“Please. Alaska will do."

Alaska…Strange choice of name. The last name of Nocturna, USA, Earth. It had been known as Nocturna for over 2000 years. Quite peculiar to choose a name like that.

"Apologies.” I smiled.

Alaska held out her glass of wine. “Here.”

I waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, I shouldn’t.”

“You can stop with the formalities, Jinkx. I can feel your anxiety."

"My anxiety?” This caught me off guard. And not to mention, “wait…how did you…?”

Alaska pointed a perfectly manicured finger to the left of my chest. I looked down. The name tag. “Oh. Of course. How silly of me."

"Weird spelling. But, other than that, I like it.” Alaska commented.

“Um, no. It’s spelled normally."

"Well, it was originally spelled without a 'k.’”

“No. It’s always had the 'k.’”

“No. The human race only started to spell it with the 'k’ when Jinkx Jenner was born back in the 49th Century.”

Alaska sipped her wine, and I was speechless. How the fuck didn’t I know that? I didn’t want to sound like one of those 'I’m an intellectual’ types. But I had dedicated a significant amount of time to learning about my origin planet’s history. Even going back to the caveman times.

Alaska ended the void of silence, offering me her wine once more. “Here. Drink up, Jinkx-y.”

My face flushed at the nickname, blinking a few times before finally accepting the drink. I took just a sip, not to appear unprofessional. As I expected, it was bitter. But I tried to hide my scowl and handed it back. Alaska’s upper lip curled up.

“Like that’s going to do anything.” She commented.

“Honestly, I’m fine. But thank you for the offer.” I beamed, putting my hands together. “Are you here alone?”

“No. I’m here with…friends.” She stretched the ’s’ sound. Her gaze traveled to a particular group of people. Looking around, I took in how attractive they all were. They all had glitter painting the side of their faces. And their lashes were long and thick, just like hers.

And dumbass me just came out with it. “God, you’re all so attractive.”

Looking back, my eyes widened. Why I had said it, I have no idea.

“Thank you.” She drawled.

“I-I…that just came out. I’m sorry.” I stammered.

“Don’t worry. We get it all the time.” Alaska stated before smiling.

I thought she was just gloating. But if I had known back then what I know now, it would have meant something else entirely.

Hours later, I was giving a speech that I must have written over 50 times before being proud of the final product. There was a red velvet curtain behind me. I was moments away from pulling a gold rope, dropping the curtain, and finally revealing the Revitalization Grain. The mixture of anxiety and excitement stirring inside was euphoric.

While I was delivering the speech, I spotted Alaska in the crowd, how eager she looked. Her friends were scattered around the room, sharing her expression. It only made me more excited.

And finally. Pulling the gold tassel, dropping the curtain, the stone was finally revealed in its glowing glory. I heard the crowd gasp in surprise. But I was too busy staring at the stone in its glass container.

And gasps turned to shrieks. This was what caught my attention.

I looked around. Alaska and her friends were holding laser guns, pointing them at the other guests. I don’t know why, but Cher started singing again. I guess maybe she was trying to calm the situation. For fuck sake.

“What the fuck??” I exclaimed as Alaska made her way towards me.

No. Towards the Revitalization Grain.

“It’s been a great night, beautiful people.” Alaska looked at the crowd once before turning and smashing her gun into the glass, smashing it to pieces. Oddly iconic.

My heart had risen to my throat as I watched her reach in and lift the stone. Where the fuck was the security?? Before I had the chance to act, the stone’s light became brighter in a matter of seconds. So bright if I hadn’t looked away, I probably would have been blinded.

I shielded my eyes, hearing the shrieks from the crowd along with Cher still singing like the legend she was. And when the light dimmed, I looked back.

And my stomach knotted.

Alaska’s hair was longer now, bigger, thicker, and practically white. Confirming that my earlier misjudgment was actually correct, her eyes were all black. Her skin shimmered as if glitter ran through her blood. And those nails, those perfectly manicured nails were longer and pointier.

She was a Celestial. Her friends were Celestials. How hadn’t I clocked this before, what with the glitter? And that also explained why I had just blurted out how fucking hot they all were. It was an effect they had on everyone they met.

“Thanks for being a great host, Jinkx-y.” She winked before approaching me. She held the stone tight as she leaned over and kissed me on the cheek.

Why hadn’t I tried to grab the stone? Because of the feeling of her lips on my skin, I swear I was high for a few seconds. I recovered only when she was walking down from my podium. A Glarglaxian charged as if ready to tackle her to the ground. But one of her buddies intervened, sending the Glarglaxian sliding across the shining floor with a single shove.

Alaska stood in a circle with her followers now. She turned and winked one more time. And just like that. With the flash of pink light, she was gone.

-_-_-_-

I called Alyssa immediately after the incident to just let her know how it went. She was mad because I called it “a small fuck up.“ She was a religious woman, so the string of curses and threats of hiring a hit man took me by surprise.

What seemed to be 5 minutes later, she was at the museum, her sugar baby boyfriend in tow. Her first question was, “where the flying fuck where the security?”

As far as I was aware, there was no security. Not one guard was in the room for the whole thing. Turns out, they were all hiding in a closet and smoking up. She fired them immediately. And there was no doubt I would be next.

Then came the talk with Government officials. It was all through holographs but still scary as shit. They were equally as disappointed to hear a group of Celestials had stolen something so powerful. They said the matter of the situation was so grave, the President would most definitely have to hear about it. Not one of the US or some other Earth country Presidents. The President of the Universe. So you could understand why they would rather not.

And instead of deciding amongst themselves what should be done next, they put that on Alyssa. But she was just the manager of a museum. How was that fair? And bless Alyssa and all, but she wasn’t very bright.

Because I couldn’t help but feel somewhat responsible, I piped up, offering to go and find the Revitalization Grain myself. They laughed at first. But upon expressing my knowledge of Celestials and being able to speak their language, they agreed. They would find more people.

And that was it. I was destined to travel the universe.

Of course, I cursed myself for even speaking up. I had never been a part of something like this. And I couldn’t just be like, "Hello, lovelies. Just letting you all know, I’ve changed my mind. Unemployment doesn’t sound that bad.” I drank two bottles of wine that night.

It took a year to prepare for the journey. And in the process, I met my team. Here, have a nice bullet point list I made a̶n̶d̶ ̶s̶l̶a̶v̶e̶d̶ ̶o̶v̶e̶r̶.̶

♡ Shea Couleé: The Captain.

♡ Sasha Velour: the First Mate and executive officer.

♡ Roy Haylock: Chief Officer of the Flight Department.

♡ Ivy Winters and Phi Phi O'Hara: Pilots.

♡ Milk, Kameron Michaels, and Bob: Engineers.

♡ Willam Belli and Courtney Act: Technicians.

♡ Me, Jinkx Monsoon, narcoleptic nerd: Linguist and Historian.

We met up a few times, different planets for each occasion. I’d say our visit to Barcelona (no, not the lovely sunny destination on Earth but the planet) was what solidified our friendships.

But for that whole year, I couldn’t get one person out of my head. And that was Alaska. I thought not much of her while we talked that night at the exhibit. But that fucking kiss on the cheek. That’s what got me. The momentary high, the way I was just frozen as she walked away, robbing us all of the stone. Whenever I remember that night, all I see is her image, like some kind of PowerPoint presentation. And Baby, I love your way plays in my head . Appropriate moment to call me a simp?

-_-_-_-

9872. Present Day

But wait. That doesn’t exactly explain how you all ended up in your current situation!

Shut up. I’m getting there. I just need a wine break.

I find myself in our kitchen. On my way there, I pass Willam and Bob playing ping pong. We went through a phase where we couldn’t decide who was the best and who got to go next. But the fun had long faded away. Same with the karaoke machine. That belongs to me. I must say, if I hadn’t volunteered for this shit, I would have belted out a song and won over an audience years ago. But without getting off-topic; the karaoke machine ain’t fun anymore.

Courtney stood there in the rec room, singing the lyrics that appeared on the screen. Her once electrifying whistle tones brought down to a somber dirge. “If you’ve been waitin’ for fallin’ in love, babe you don’t have to wait on me. 'Cause I’ve been aimin’ for heaven above but an angel ain’t what I need.”

Reaching the kitchen, I pour a glass of wine and look out the window into the far off distance. And all of a sudden, I’m reminded of Alaska, standing in that window, looking classy, sipping her wine, how the glitter on her face shimmered as she turned to look at me.

“What are you smiling at?”

Fuck, Ivy’s here too. She’s sitting on a counter in the corner, eating yogurt. I look away.

“Oh. It’s nothing.” I reply.

“I haven’t seen you smile in a long time.” Ivy points out. “Is it really just nothing.”

“It’s just…something funny from back home.” I lie.

Ivy places the bowl to the side. She’s silent momentarily before her face scrunches up, tears surfacing. For fuck’s sake, curse me and my foot in mouth disease!

I sit next to my best friend as the tears come flooding. I hold her in my arms, letting her know I’m her shoulder to cry on right now. It had been years since Earth was destroyed. But the grief was still fresh for her.

Actually, for the whole team.

I’m considered the lucky one. After all, I had no loved ones left on Earth. But my team? They had families; parents, siblings, partners, children of their own. And now, they’re gone.

How the Earth was destroyed? We tried to figure it out ourselves. But with no answers, we are just wasting away, flying around in Space on our ship. Nowhere to go. No purpose in life.

-_-_-_-

9870. 2 Years ago.

I was high-key worried that a year wasn’t enough time to prepare for this mission. And this thought hit harder upon arriving on the planet Celestia.

Although, we were expecting some sort of barrier, guards, a surprise attack. But there was nothing. Huh.

The place was pretty much just a copy of Earth, except if you took 10 hits of LSD and were pushed into a never-ending hallucinogenic trip. The blue sky was an oceanic hue, clouds glittering, pink trees everywhere like someone just scattered houses and buildings in the middle of a forest. Nearby planets were visible in the sky, the stars shining bright, and I questioned whether it was night or day.

Music pulsated through the air, all different songs playing at once from all different directions; Electronic dance music. I figured that’s why Alaska wasn’t feeling Cher the night of the exhibit.

Upon approaching, Shea quickly noticed that locals weren’t exactly acting how we thought they would. They were excited, cheering, and beckoning us to land. We did so, parking in what I guessed was a parking lot? Except there were no cars.

Exiting Big Debbie, we were distracted momentarily, watching as the Celestials ran around, hand in hand, their spirits high.

But Shea got right to it. “OK! Calm down. Where’s the Revitalization Grain?”

A Celestial approached us, like an animal ready to pounce, and Shea was ready to brawl.

“Just down the street. Take a right. You’ll see a marquee all lit up. It’s just in there. Costs to get in, though.” The Celestial explained.

The fuck? How was everyone on this planet this chilled out?

We all collectively agreed to keep our lasers hidden since they seemed harmless now. But I knew they could pack a punch. I had seen it the night of the exhibition. Better to be safe than sorry.

On the way to the marquee, we bickered over how the hell we were going to even pay. Well, Shea and Sasha mostly. Willam and Courtney were more interested in how attractive the Celestials were. couldn’t blame them.

All the while, I looked around me, hoping to see a certain someone. But then again, if she saw me here, surely she’d know something was up.

Coming to the marquee’s entry line, Sasha managed to get a peek at the front of the line. People were literally paying with anything - false eyelashes, jewelry, scales from their own flesh, fake nails, whatever they had on them.

Roy decided to stay behind, the only thing he thought that would interest them being his rose-tinted sunglasses. And he was not willing to part with them. Over much debating on what we would offer, we agreed that maybe a simple handshake, a sign of peace, would suffice.

We were right. How I wished I could just live there.

When we were in, the deja vu set in. Celestials, humans, and other alien species stood around, sipping wine and talking amongst themselves. The music wasn’t live and provided by Cher. But it played from speakers in the corners, the beats fast and fitting with the environment.

And there, on a podium in the middle of the room, was the Revitalization Grain. Its glow was brighter than the last time I had seen it. The light seemed to travel through the podium and into the ground, like veins running through a human body.

I looked around for Alaska, but she was absent. Damn.

Shea gave the command, and we withdrew our weapons. The once cheerful and friendly atmosphere was brought to a grinding halt as the people began to cower. The rest of the team reassured them everything would be fine if they just stayed put. I approached the podium and lifted the precious stone.

And with that, the light from the podium disappeared, but the stone still shone bright. This was it—time to hit the road.

Everything was going so well. We had gotten back to the ship safely. No one even bothering to attack us.

But before we could get high enough, the ship started to go through what we thought was turbulence. But of course, the Celestial’s decided now was the best time to fight. They were attacking Big Debbie in their own flying pods. There was no way we were going to make it out of the planet alive.

And so we were forced to land in hopes we could fight them off. Disembarking Big Debbie, there was indeed a face-off. My team and the Celestials stood outside; the area around us was more barren and dusty than its main city area.

We were all yelling at each other, not a single word clear enough to understand with the many voices. All I got from the exchange was that we argued they had stolen a rare artifact. They claimed it belonged to them now. It was just back and forth madness.

And then came another pod, this one bigger and more glittery.

And my heart stopped.

It was Alaska.

She exited the pod.

Oooooh, Baby I love your way.

She looked right at me as if she could sense the stone within my satchel.

I smiled shyly, “Hi, Ala- -”

“Jinkx, give me the stone.” She demanded, holding out her hand.

“Ugh…no,” I replied, clutching the satchel strap.

“Jinkx, if you don’t give me that rock…” Alaska growled as she stormed towards me. Shea tried to block her way, but with a simple wave of her hand, Shea was lifted from the ground and thrown back.

Like a dumb ass, I just screamed and took off. I abandoned my poor team, leaving them with the Celestials. But honestly, Alaska at that moment was terrifying. She really did growl. And her eyes were black pits again. Scary stuff, really.

I don’t know how long I ran for, but the sun was scorching, there was no wind or moisture in the air. I just ran and ran until I had no choice but to stop. My legs and lungs burned.

I was doubled over, hands on my knees and panting. I made a mental note to work out more, which I still haven’t done.

Looking behind me, Alaska was nowhere to be seen.

“Wh…What…?” I straightened.

A manicured hand clamped down on my shoulder, spinning me around. It was Alaska. How she had got there was beyond me.

God, she was stunning. Ooooh, Baby I lo - -

She grabbed the strap of the bag tight, which brought me out of my trance. I tugged back. “This is ridiculous! Just give it up, for crying out loud!”

“No. That stone belongs to me!”

“It belongs to the museum!”

“Jinkx, you have no idea what you’re doing!”

“I do! I’m saving my career!”

The strap snapped. And the stone flew out from the bag, flying across the rocky plain. We ran for it. Alaska was slightly faster than me. The only way I could think to reach the stone before she did was to fling myself to the ground like a penguin sliding on ice. And it must have been my lucky day because it worked.

A piece of the stone had broken off. For fuck sake!

“Jinkx. The rock. Now!” Alaska commanded.

I turned, sitting on the ground now, and pointed my laser at her. “Alaska, honey, you know I can’t do that.”

“Stupid human. You need to give me the rock right now. You don’t understand - -”

Over Alaska’s shoulder, I could see the ship in the distance, heading in our direction. Damn, I really did run far.

I bolted for a rocky hill, awaiting the ship’s arrival. And of course, Alaska followed.

“Get back here!” She yelled.

I held the stone tight, shaking my head. Backing up, I felt my stomach tighten. My heel was on the edge of nothing. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw the long drop down and gulped nervously.

“Give me the stone!"

I looked around as Alaska lunged forward. I instinctively threw myself to the side.

And I watched as she fell from the cliff.

"Alaska!” I yelled.

I watched her fall, becoming smaller and smaller.

My mind was blank. I couldn’t even comprehend what was happening. “Fuck…fuck…fuck…”

Before her body could splatter to pieces, her body moved along the plain of land, and shot high up into the sky. “She can fly? Oh…OK. Good.”

She was like a glowy blur, contrasting the oceanarium blue of the sky. A glowy blur that was getting closer and closer. “Oh…OK. That’s not good.”

I looked at Big Debbie. And then to Alaska. And then, Big Debbie. And then, Alaska. A dizzying back and forth. Who would reach me first? I hoped it wouldn’t be the latter. Death didn’t sound too lovely, after all.

“Jinkx!” I heard Ivy yell. Alaska was close, but the ship was closer. I saw Ivy standing in the doorway, hanging on for dear life.

The speed of light that was Alaska was catching up. Fuck. The ship was so close. I was so gross from all the sweat, practically feeling the heat radiating off the approaching Celestial.

And in a matter of seconds, the ship was next to me. Ivy was reaching out a hand. I grabbed it, and my skin could have peeled off from the great force of being dragged into the ship.

I hit the ground and rolled, Ivy quickly shutting the door.

We had no time to celebrate our victory. It was time to get the fuck out of Celestia and keep the stone safe.

-_-_-_-

9872. Present Day

“Yeah, but you tell that story like it’s the wildest shit.”

I snap out of my daze. Shea is in the kitchen now, pouring herself a cup of coffee. I was so involved in telling Ivy my own account of the story, I didn’t realize our Captain entered the room.

“It was the wildest shit. The way Ivy pulled me onto the ship? It was like something out of an old action movie.” I insist.

Ivy’s not upset anymore. She laughed a few times during my storytelling. Good to know I can lighten the mood for her a bit. “Did Alyssa even notice the missing piece?” Ivy asks, tucking a leg under herself.

“No,” I answer. Like I said, Alyssa wasn’t the brightest. But in returning the stone to the museum, I learned she was also one harsh mother fucker. After the long journey back, she basically said, “Thanks for the stone, Jinkx. What you did is so admirable! But also, you’re fired. And one more thing. While ya’ll were gone, the Earth was destroyed. So, good luck trying to find a new home. Bye.”

Well, not exactly word for word. But it might as well have been. Alyssa fired me for “letting the aliens steal the stone,” which was totally stupid. I wanted to sue her for unfair dismissal. But at that stage, what was the point? I just gave the stone over and accepted defeat.

“What a bitch.” Ivy shakes her head.

“I know. She sounds like one of those bitches, you know the ones who take a vacation to a poor country, come back and throw away most of their wardrobe instead of actually doing something to help.” Shea observes. She’s not far off.

“Any other questions?” I ask.

“Yeah, one more. You have a crush on Alaska.” Ivy smirks.

“… That’s not a question.”

“OK, well, 'you have a crush on Alaska.’ True or false?"

"False. Are you nuts? As if.” I lie.

“I mean…” Shea squints her eyes, “You do talk about her some type of way.”

“Well…how do you know I’m not adding to the story? To make it more exciting?” I raise my brows. That’s dumb. That’s my worst lie. I’m terrible at lying, and I know they can see right through me. But they don’t question me further, and I am thankful.

Of course, I like Alaska. What’s not to like? It wasn’t just some plot device I threw into my story for exaggeration. Actually, none of it was exaggerated. Imagine if I told you right now that Alaska didn’t even fly, and she had indeed fallen to her death, and that was the last of it. Would it be considered a sad or happy ending?

She really did fly that day. But part of the story I left out was this; when she went soaring into the sky, that motherfucking Baby, I love your way song played in my head again.

-_-_-_-

I’m in my room now. It’s only 5pm, but my all-over-the-show body clock is saying 'nap time.’ I kick off my boots and fling them into the corner. And before I can even get comfy, in comes the cleaner bot, Tallulah. She’s like a slightly bigger version of Wall-E from the Oscar-winning film Wall-E . But instead of eyes, she has a screen for a face. Therefore she only speaks in symbols. Bless her.

“Hey, girl,” I murmur, feeling a yawn come on.

“ :) ” She says. She hovers over to my tossed boots, picks them up, and carefully places them under my bed. She takes almost a full minute to make sure they are perfectly symmetrical next to each other.

“Thank you, Tallulah. That’ll do.” I say, smiling. But she isn’t leaving. She starts searching the room for something else to clean. I really really want this nap, but from past experience, there ain’t no stopping her.

I think back to earlier in the day when the dark thoughts were getting the better of me. How I thought of ways to destroy her just to live out my intergalactic space domestic fantasy. I regret that immensely. The feeling of loneliness, while being surrounded by people, can sometimes fuck with your head.

“Tallulah.” I pipe up, grabbing her attention.

“ ? ”

“We love ya, gal.”

“ :D ”

I smile and lie down on the uncomfortable bed. You get used to a mattress like this when you’ve been using it for so long.

I close my eyes, hoping sleep will come quick.

“ Hmmm, hmmm hmm, hmmm…falling in love…” God, that karaoke song that Courtney was singing is stuck in my head now.

The ship shudders, and I huff. The light above my head isn’t any help, either. I can only turn it off when Tallulah leaves the room. But I’m guessing that won’t be for another while. Think I’ll just face the wall then.

My eyes are closed for all but 2 seconds when Tallulah taps me on the arm. “Tallulah, it’s nap time.”

She taps again, and so I sigh heavily, letting her know I’m serious. I turn around. And bolt upright.

I have no fucking idea how but Tallulah has somehow found the chipped off piece of Revitalization Grain. “ 😃 ”

“Give me that.” I hold out my hand.

“ 🍬 ”

“Tallulah, that is not candy. It’s very, very precious.”

“ >:( ”

“Look. I traveled so far to get that fucking stone just to lose my goddamn job. I earned that piece.”

“ :( ”

She really isn’t going to give this up. “OK. Fine. You can have it. But, you need to take good care of it. It’s not food. It’s not a toy. And if it falls into the wrong hands, the consequences could be vital.”

“ :D ”

“Glad you’re happy, hon’.”

The ship shakes again, only more violent this time. “Jesus Christ! If we’ve flown into a storm - -”

I nearly hit the wall as the ship shakes even more aggressively.

“ 👁👄👁💧"Tallulah’s screen flashes.

"Go to your room.”

“✅”

We both leave my room, Tallulah hovering down to the left and me towards the right.

I’m jogging my way to the control room, Roy popping out of his own room. “I swear to god. Somebody better be dead.”

The ship jolts. Because we were practically power walking with confidence, we fall the fuck over, right on our faces.

I groan in pain before responding to Roy’s statement. “Jesus, ain’t that a bit much?”

Entering the control room, everyone’s on their feet, rushing around, pressing all sorts of buttons, Shea giving a lot more commands than usual.

“OK. Who’s dead?” Roy asks.

“Do you have to?” I roll my eyes. He only smirks.

“Someone’s trying to get in,” Shea explains.

“Into the ship?” I raise a brow.

“No. Into my panties. Yes, of course the ship!” Shea snaps. Can’t blame her; it was a dumb question. My bad.

I approach Ivy, looking over her shoulder at the screen.

“This is crazy. What do you think it is?” I ask.

“I don’t know. But, from all the ruckus, I’m gonna guess and say it’s huge.”

My stomach is sinking to my ass. “Fuck…”

“It’s kind of exciting, to be honest.” Ivy laughs nervously.

“Which side are we talking, ladies?” Shea cuts off our conversation.

“The South East Side, Captain.” Phi Phi answers.

There’s banging. We all look to the North West side. Not the South East.

“Wow. Whatever it is, it’s fucking fast.” Ivy says.

“Shh. Listen.” Sasha holds a hand up.

There’s scratching sounds now. It’s almost unbearable to listen to like nails on a chalkboard.

We’re all still, just listening, too afraid to speak, unsure of what to do.

“What the fuck is going on??!!” Bob bellows as he enters the room, Milk and Kameron following behind.

“Shut the fuck up,” Shea swears through a harsh whisper.

The three engineers stop dead in their tracks, unsure of what is actually going on.

The scratching has stopped.

The ship is still.

And the silence is haunting.

Even though whatever is on the other side is probably a bloodthirsty creature, craving the taste of our insides; honestly, I’m fucking pumped.

I look to everyone else, but they clearly don’t feel the same. Phi Phi’s skin is pale like she’s looking death right in the eye.

There’s still this silence. And I want to break it. “Do you think - -”

The room is illuminated, and we all collectively flinch. And that feeling of familiarity settles in.

When the light has faded enough for us to look, what I fear (or low-key hope) to happen has happened.

In the middle of the room is a figure, the light slipping away from them to reveal their long blonde messy locks, their long arms, talons for nails…Oh, God…

Their head whips around to look at us. And that stupid Baby, I love your way song plays in my head as they flip their hair over their shoulder.

“Alaska!” I gasp.

She holds up her laser gun, aiming it at us. The others aim their own weapons right back at her.

“None of you could have opened the door? Seriously??” Alaska growls.

“Yeah, because inviting in whatever was fucking with our ship wouldn’t be a stupid move or anything.” Phi Phi sneers.

Alaska stands tall. “I mean, I did fucking knock.”

“Sorry, we didn’t hear it,” Ivy replies apologetically, Shea shooting her a look.

“As if we’d let you in, though.” Shea chimes.

“How rude.” Alaska comments.

I take in her appearance, which has significantly changed since I last saw her. The once strong, tall Celestial is now frail and seems to struggle to even hold herself up. Her once luscious hair is like straw, dry, and lifeless. And the glitter in her skin. It’s gone.

“Why are you even here?” Sasha demands.

“To take back what is mine.” Alaska pants. “Where’s the stone?”

“Jokes on you, girl. We don’t have it anymore.” Roy answered.

Alaska is breathing heavier now, blinking more than usual. “That’s impossible. I was drawn here. I can feel its energy."

The crew is quiet, and I feel like a fucking idiot. Of course, she’s talking about the broken piece that I gave to Tallulah. Maybe this was reality coming back to bite me in the ass that we can’t always have nice things.

No one is saying anything. Therefore, it’s my time to spew some bullshit. "It’s probably just the aura still left over on the ship. There’s nothing here for you.”

Alaska seethes, her body quivering. “So I saved up all my energy - fucking propelled myself across the universe - used whatever strength I had left…all for nothing?!”

I feel bad but won’t let it show. I just nod my head. “Yeah. You kinda did.”

Alaska lowers her weapon, eyes drawn to the ground. At first, she looks in disbelief. Then disappointed. And now her eyes aren’t lifting, her chest heaving.

“If you want, we can fly you back?” Ivy offers, shrugging her shoulders.

Instead of answering, Alaska drops to the ground, out cold.

“Jesus Christ!” Bob steps back.

I’m the only one who rushes to her. I try for a pulse. She’s still alive. A sigh of relief escapes my lips, and I look to the others. “Are you just gonna stand there all day? We need to help her.”

“Do we though?” Roy smirks.

“Yes. We do.” I snap. Looking back at the passed out Celestial, unsure of what to actually do, I poke her on the forehead. “Alaska…?”

She stirs.

Kameron kneels on the other side and scoops her up in his arms.

“Wow - wow - wow. What are you doing?” I demand.

Kameron raises a brow. “Helping?”

He turns to leave the room.

“Yeah, well, be careful with her!” I call after him. Kameron is harmless. But with those muscles and her fragile state, I’m afraid one wrong move, and she’ll snap in half.

“What the fuck is going on?” Phi Phi asks, standing up from her chair.

“I don’t know, but I feel so unprepared. What do we do?” Ivy says.

“Let’s all just calm down.” Shea raises her hands, trying to ward off the team’s anxieties. “Look, we don’t have the stone. We’re not gonna tell her where it is. Therefore, we’re useless to her.”

“More reason for her to kill us,” Willam noted.

“Not if we keep the peace and give her a ride home.” Shea counters.

Too many thoughts whirlwind in my brain right now. Maybe I should just come clean and tell them about the piece of Revitalization Grain. Or maybe not. I feel like the confrontation would be worse.

“I need a smoke.” I don’t even smoke.

“I need a drink.” Phi Phi adds.

“I need to stress masturbate.” Willam groans.

I’m ready to hurl.

-_-_-_-

2 hours later and I’m still on edge. Since Alaska broke in, I’ve had a long-ass shower, napped, ate 2 heaping bowls of cereal, and tried to find Tallulah. If anyone found out about the stone, my ass was grass.

The bot is not in her usual hangouts, which wracks my nerves up to 100—time to try looking through the whole ship.

I search high and low, searching each room I pass. I’m desperate to get this stone back.

“What are you looking for?” Milk passes me.

“Tallulah. I…spilled something”, I answer, the frustration apparent in my voice.

“Someone’s stressed.” Milk comments, continuing on in the opposite direction.

I bite my tongue, knowing full well that a snide remark is on the tip of it.

I find myself at the far end of the ship, where no one really visits too often. It’s just storage and the prison cell. Yes, we have one of those in the case that a criminal boards.

Finally checking said prison cell, I don’t find Tallulah. But I find Alaska. I can feel anger brewing in my chest, knowing this was what Kameron thought would be appropriate. Yes, she broke in, but she is not a threat.

She’s just lying there on the ground, and I feel saddened.

But she looks over her shoulder. I’m glad to see she’s awake.

I enter and stand before the glass barrier separating us. Alaska sits up and turns to me.

“Look what the cat dragged in,” she says.

“The Captain’s set sail. We’re taking you home. Should we expect an attack?” I ask.

Alaska blinks long and hard, looking away in frustration. “I don’t think so.”

“Good,” I say. I could just turn and leave. But my feet are stuck to the ground. I just look down at her, feeling the pity inside. But I must remain firm for my team.

“So, I’m really stuck in this cell for weeks with no entertainment?” Alaska combs a clawed hand through her long hair.

“Well, when you put it that way, I’ll willingly allow you some form of entertainment. You want a book?”

Alaska gags. “I’d prefer music.”

I move to the wall on the left; there’s a switch linked to the sound system that plays through the ship. Music used to play on repeat throughout the place. But when you hear the same songs over and over again, it becomes repetitive. I turn the volume, but not too loud as to disturb everyone else.

Some classical tune plays at random. It was never a favorite, but Alaska seems to not mind.

“You know there’s one moment I can’t ever stop thinking about. It involves you.” She drawls.

“Really?” I let myself smirk, sounding a bit too enthusiastic.

“When you let me fall from that cliff.”

“Oh. OK.”

“I could have died that day.” She continues. “But honestly, as I was falling, I thought… that’s alright… that’s OK. Everyone would know that I was legendary.”

“I would have caught you if my reflexes were better.” I try.

“No, you wouldn’t. Then I would have had the stone.” Alaska counters.

I don’t even try to argue that she’s wrong. I know I’d fucking blurt it out that I found her very appealing and would be pretty sad to know she died. Although, the thought of her reaction was also intriguing.

“You want to join me in here?” She suggests.

“Not terribly.” I lie.

“Are you scared of me?"

"No.”

“Well, I find it kind of rude with the barrier between us.”

She has a point. But the team would tear me a new one.

“Don’t worry. I won’t try to escape.” Alaska raises a brow. “I don’t exactly have the energy right now.”

To be fair, she still seems very sluggish. I give in, scan my key card, and enter the cell. Her eyes follow me as I sit down on the ground next to her.

“At least it’s not cold in here,” I comment.

“I’m pretty cold.” Alaska states.

You wanna cuddle? Nah, I can’t say that. “I’ll find you a heater later.”

“So, Jinkx-y. What have you all been at since we last met?” She’s intrigued.

“Nothing fascinating,” I reply. “Planet Earth was destroyed. We got nowhere to go. No missions. Nothing.”

Alaska looks disappointed with the answer.

“I’m sorry. Were you expecting something a bit more thrilling? Well, the last time something exciting ever happened, before you got here, was a very long time ago.” I continue.

“You have a really negative aura right now.” Alaska comments. “Maybe if you had a little more positivity, you’d find happiness.”

My brows connect. “Well, I’ve never been one of those 'fake a smile’ types. That’s a one way trip to a massive breakdown.”

“Who said anything about faking a smile?” Alaska tests. “If you get out of your head, stop focusing on how boring everything else, then you’ll see what the world has to offer.”

“What are you? A therapist?"

"See, this is what I’m talking about? The negativity. It’s making you more hostile. So different to the Jinkx I met back in the museum.” Alaska’s eyes squint as she analyzes me further. “And no, I’m not a

therapist. If you didn’t notice before, it’s just my people are a very positive bunch. Give us a Tsunami; we’ll make a water slide out of it. Give us a house fire; we’ll toast marshmallows and have one hell of a party.”

I know I could never reach that level of chill. But I find it admirable.

“Jinkx, how old are you?” Alaska asks.

The question catches me off guard, but I answer anyway. “33 years old.”

“Wow. You’re like…way younger than I thought you’d be.” Alaska’s brows raise in surprise.

“Are you saying I look old?"

"I was going to guess late 40’s.”

“Oh, wow. Thanks.” The sudden urge to leave and go find some more wine is strong. Actually, maybe that’s what has clearly aged me.

“Late '40s is still young, girl. But early 30’s. That’s really, really young. Practically still a child.” Alaska comments.

“You have a really warped concept of age,” I note. “How old are you then? You gotta be younger than me, at least.”

“Far from it. I’m actually 2099 years of age. Just about to get into my 2100’s."

I’m shocked. Only then, when she states her age, do I remember that Celestials live for a very, very, very long time. But still. I never imagined she’d be 2 millenniums old.

"I forgot you humans only have less than 100 years.” Alaska plays with her hair again. “Which is why I find it sad you’re just sitting here wasting what remaining time you have. You have so much to experience. A lot to learn. You just gotta open your eyes.”

“Huh, you’re not wrong.” I click my tongue. “OK, so let me know more about you."

Alaska looks flattered.

"Why the name 'Alaska’? I’m guessing your parents had an interest in Earth?”

“I’m gonna let you in on a little secret. Just because I like you.” Alaska says coyly, making me blush. “It’s not my real name.”

“Oh, cool. What is your real name then?” I lean forward, enthusiastically.

“I’d rather not say.”

“OK.” I don’t press her. “Does anyone know your real name?” I don’t want to feel left out.

“Of course they do. But for specific and appropriate reasons. I’d just much rather be referred to as Alaska. And what about you? Why Jinkx with a 'k.’” Alaska lies on her side, propping her head up with a hand.

“I don’t know. My Mom liked it, I guess.” I also lie on my side, and I just smile at her.

“Jinkx Jenner fan?” Alaska asked.

I shook my head. “I have no clue. Honestly, she wasn’t very present for my childhood. I never had the chance to find out.” I see the sorrowful look on her face. And I regret taking the conversation to a dark place. Before she can ask about the rest of my family, I take a turn and ask a question. “So like…are you broke or something? I’m guessing that’s why you wanted the stone so bad.” I smirk.

“What do you mean?” Alaska’s brow raises.

“The marquee. You were charging people to see the stone.”

“Oh, that . I guess that was just a perk. Not really different from people paying to see it in the museum.” Alaska explains, her smile slowly fading. “But no, that’s not the real reason.”

With a sigh, she sits up again, leaning her back against the wall. Her chest heaves, eyes looking upward. It’s like she’s avoiding me, or the topic. I’m unsure of which one.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“It's…” she pauses like she’s trying to find words. And then she sighs through her nostrils. “It doesn’t matter.”

Concern takes me over. I sit up and move towards the wall beside her. “Hey, it’s OK. You can say it. It’s just me.” I say as if she’s known me for years. I don’t know why I said it. I guess I just really want her to trust me.

Alaska avoids my eyes. “I really can’t. It could be dangerous for Glamtron.”

“Glamtron?"

"Yes, my planet.”

“You mean Celestia?”

“No. Glamtron.”

“…”

“Alaska, you’re from Celestia.”

“No, it’s called Glamtron.”

“Says who?”

“I do. I renamed it.”

My head cocks to the side. “ You renamed it?”

“Yes. I do have the power and the authority to do that, after all."

My eyes widen. "Wait a minute. Are you saying…”

“Yes, I am the Queen. Alaska Thunderfuck from the planet Glamtron.” She says so proudly. “So, yes. I really did rename it to Glamtron.”

I don’t even care about the name change any more. I’m just…beyond shocked. Here, I am; Jinkx Monsoon, a space nerd, sitting with royalty.

"Fuck. I just… don’t know how to act all of a sudden.” I say.

“Well, I’m not looking very Queenly right now. Just see me as Alaska from the exhibit for now."

"I know, but… I’ve studied Celes - -” Alaska shoots me a look, “Glamtron before. There’s never been any mention of an Alaska before. And you’ve been alive for so long. How…” I trail off, not knowing how to even finish my statement.

“Because Alaska isn’t my real name.” She says as if I should have remembered that. I thought she would have been happy to know I forgot.

“Well.” I pause. “I hate to ask, but what do they refer to you as?”

She licks her teeth like she’s slightly frustrated. “OK. Fine. But you gotta promise to always call me Alaska.”

“Cross my heart.” I place a hand over my heart to seal the deal.

“OK.” She looks to the door as if afraid anyone will just wander in. Then she looks at me, leans in close, and whispers, “My name is actually Thriks.”

My first thought is, 'Oh, yikes. That is kinda awful.’ But now I’m thinking back to my reading. And I am definitely familiar. The Queen Thriks was known as a wild party animal, yet a loving and caring mother-like figure. She was always so strong for her people and went out of her way for them, making sure everyone was in high spirits. Because of her loving nature, she was to go down in history as one of the most adored Queens of Celestia.

“I have read about you,” I say quietly.

“And you’re little history books and articles. Do they still call it Celestia?” Alaska stretches the ’s’ in Celestia out.

“Uh, huh.”

“If I was a different person, I’d sue."

But we’re getting off track. I need answers. "Well…I could write about you? I’d write you as Alaska . I’d call it Glamtron . I’d make everything right if you help me."

Alaska bats her lashes. "You’d do that for me?”

“Yes!” I exclaim, grabbing her hand.

“Hmmm…” she brings a finger to her mouth, thinking, “I can’t wait for the part where I robbed the museum. I’m sure there will be some bitterness in those words.”

She’s kind of right. Yeah, I’m having a good time talking with her. But she did kind of cost me my job. I purse my lips as the classical song ends, transitioning to something from the 1980s.

“Alaska, why did you take the stone?” I ask again.

She’s silent again, pretending to be distracted by the catchy Madonna music.

“Alaska, I need to know if I’m going to write your story."

She stops bobbing her head, huffing put through her nostrils. "Jinkx, I really can’t.”

“Why not? You told me your name.”

“Because that’s different.”

“How?”

“Because it’s dangerous.”

“Why?” My tone becomes more demanding.

“Because it just is,” Alaska replies, her tone the same.

“For who? Us? Are we in trouble?”

“No! For my people.”

“So…you don’t trust me?” I ask in an accusing manner. Seems a bit emotional blackmail-ish, but I’m desperate to know.

“I do trust you, Jinkx. But I can’t say the same for your team.” She says with venom.

“My team are good people!” I say. “They have never caused any harm.”

“They terrified my people that day.” Alaska countered. I figure she’s talking about the day we arrived in Celestia.

“And how is that any different to the night of the exhibit?"

"Because unlike you all, we had a good reason.”

“And that is?”

“Jinkx, you’re really really starting to piss me off.”

“Don’t ignore the question. What am I going to do? Go out and tell my big bad teammates? Why would I do that if I have no idea what the consequences are?”

“Because we’re vulnerable, Jinkx!” Alaska shouts. Her volume causes me to shrink away. She’s gritted her teeth, kneeling on her knees and towering over me now. I’m actually scared.

“Look at me!” She presses her hands against her chest. “I’m fucking dying! My planet is dying. My people are dying!”

In my moment of shock, as Alaska looks down on me, pieces of the puzzle come together in my head.

Thriks; the loving Queen who went out of her way for her people.

The attack on the museum.

The Revitalization Grain.

The one thing that brought restoration and reincarnation.

“You wanna save them,” I speak through a whisper.

With a sigh, Alaska sinks back to the ground. Her head lowers, blonde hair covering her face.

“Jinkx, the stone is of Glamtron origin. It was lost 300 years ago, in the middle of the war with the Holoxyans. For so long, we were wasting away, trying to build up our own energy to keep ourselves alive. And from just laying around, we were just dying anyway. And I had no idea what to do. I didn’t know how to save them.” Alaska’s voice cracks. “For years, I had to watch as many gave what little energy they had left to my team and me. Just so we could go find the stone.”

I’m horrified as realization hits; I’ve brought doom to an entire planet.

“Please, I don’t want anyone other than us to know,” Alaska states firmly. “Glamtron has no defense. If someone knows how vulnerable we are, it makes us a prime target for invasion. The Holoxyans. They will attack.”

I move close to her again. I resist the urge to throw my arms around her, now aware of literally how fragile she is. I take her hand graciously; my own eyes must be glistening. “Alaska, I’m so sorry.”

She puts her other hand on top of mine. “I do trust you, Jinkx. I’m just…terrified.”

“I know. I know.” I say quietly.

Alaska hasn’t shed any tears. They were right when they said Thriks was a strong bitch. I held back my own tears, fearing it would be selfish.

“So, no. It’s not because I’m broke.” Alaska comments. And I nervous laugh. She laughs too. “You promise this stays between us?” She looks me in the eye.

Is it inappropriate to say at this moment I’m just smitten by the dark irises? “I promise.” I squeeze her hands reassuringly.

“Great.” She nods. And she leans forward, kissing me on the cheek.

I could fucking melt. The high must be kicking in again because the lights are dimming, there’s some sort of pink aura emerging, the music is louder, and Alaska feels warm.

She pulls away. I expect a smile. But she’s looking around her as if she’s experiencing the same thing.

“Alaska, look.” I point to her wrist. She looks just in time to see something glitter under her skin, like sparkly pink blood flowing through her veins.

She’s looking at me now like something has just hit her in the head like a brick. I don’t know what, so I just stare back in confusion. “What’s - -”

I’m cut off as she grabs my face.

And she kisses me again.

On the lips.

Suddenly, I know what pink glitter tastes like, even though I’m pretty sure there is no taste. Her kiss is so gentle, which I do not expect from her. She’s lifted a hand to my cheek, stroking a nail along my skin. And I hope this is a sign she’s not just in it for some nice colors floating around the air. I feel this spark, and it will kill me if she doesn’t feel it too. Upon having this thought, I wrap my arms around her tiny waist. The butterflies in my stomach are going wild, my heart is pounding so hard, yet all I can focus on is the soft feel of her lips.

She pulls away, and I almost pull her back in. But I’m taken aback by the room now . Like, am I tripping right now, or are there really purple fireflies floating around?

Alaska’s looking around in awe as well. I guess it’s not the cosmic-high feeling from her kiss.

“Well, that’s never happened before.” Alaska looks back to me with a smirk. The holographic glitter has resurfaced, decorating the sides of her face.

And her hair, almost pale white, longer and thicker. I can’t help but run my fingers through it. Never has hair felt silkier to me.

She’s glancing down at my hand, still playing with her locks. “I feel…alive again.” She breathes out a laugh, pulling away from me, admiring the healthy color of her skin, the glittery fluid coursing through her.

I look away, noting how the floaty lights remain. But the hit is gone. So this is real. There really are tiny glowy orbs floating around us.

"Wow. What is this song?” Alaska asks, moving her body to the rhythm of the music. The 1980s song has long ended. Instead, the song Courtney was singing earlier plays.

“I’ll have to find that out for you. You’d think I’d know it. We’ve heard it so many damn times now. It’s kind of annoying.” I laugh.

“Why do you think that?"

"It’s just…too depressing, I guess. I mean, listen to the words.”

“This is what I’m talking about. Don’t focus on what’s black and white. Listen to the music.” Alaska turns to face me, her long arms rippling to the tune.

I don’t want to be an annoying son of a gun and ruin the tender moment for us, so I take her advice and really listen to the music.

“Not anyone, you’re the one, more than fun, you’re the Sanctuary,

'Cause what you want is what I want, Sincerity.”

My eyes are closed, and my body is swaying. And I’m feeling it. Like the music is flowing through me. “Hey. I think you’re right.”

“See?” I open my eyes to see her move toward me. She takes my hands in hers. And we spin in a slow circle.

“Souls that dream alone lie awake, I’ll give you something so real.”

As the chorus kicks in, the dance has picked up a pace. I don’t even know what kind of dancing this is. Let’s say a mix of slow dancing and ballroom. And I laugh when she spins me around. I try to return the gesture, but she’s too tall, and I nearly knock her in the face. I’m embarrassed for a few seconds, but she’s laughing. And it makes me feel less like an idiot.

I can’t keep up this pace; I’m falling so hard right now. I slow myself down, hoping she gets the hint.

“Hold me oh so close, 'cause you’ll never know just how long our lives will be.”

I wrap my arms around the small of her back, pulling her to me. I can see the small floaty lights reflecting in her dark eyes. And now it’s my turn to kiss her. I’m really, really falling hard.

I could stay like this forever, rocking side to side, just kissing Alaska. But reality has to come back and creep into my brain, doesn’t it?

I know this won’t last. We’ll eventually have to part when we leave her back to her dying planet, and my team and I will continue on wasting away.

I stop kissing her to get another look at those eyes, and she lays her head on my shoulder. We continue to sway side to side. And the thought of letting go is making all kinds of negative emotions surface. Am I glad for this moment? Oh, absolutely. If she hadn’t broken in, I’d still be in my room, either sleeping or waiting for Tallulah to finish cleaning.

“Wait…” I say.

“What is it?” Alaska speaks into the crook of my neck.

“I…” I pause, “OK, don’t get mad. But I kinda lied to you.” She lifts her head at this. “You were right about sensing the stone. The truth is I have a piece.”

Her eyes widen. “I knew I felt it.”

“It’s small. But it’ll give you more strength.” I suggest with raised brows.

“No. I have enough right now. I don’t know how but…you ignite something in me, I guess. As for the stone, I know a few people back home who could use it more.” Alaska suggested.

“Well, good. Wait here.” I give her a small kiss. “I’ll be back in a second.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t be going anywhere.” She calls as I leave the cell.

I’m too buzzed to search every damn room. I just search for the nearest human who will provide me with answers. I find two in the security room. Ivy and Courtney.

“Which one of you whores have seen Tallulah?” I ask, peaking my head in.

“Not me.” Courtney answers. She’s got a smirk on her face, and I know somethings up.

“Me neither. But we’ll tell you what we did see.” Ivy gestures to the 5th screen, showing Alaska still dancing around in her cell.

My eyes widen. “You were spying on us?”

“Not our intention. We thought we’d keep an eye on things in case something happened.” Ivy then laughs. “And I guess it did.”

The shame takes me over, and my face flushes with shame and embarrassment. “Oh, for God’s sake.”

“I actually think it’s adorable. Very Romeo and Juliet.” Courtney coos.

I roll my eyes. This is all incredibly immature. But I know they’re not going to just let it go. “OK, kids. I’ll let you have your fun. But it stays between us. Anyway, where’s Tallulah?”

“We told you. We don’t know.” Courtney replies. “Try her closet.”

“OK.” I turn to leave, not before turning and pointing at the two. “Remember; it stays between us 3.”

“You got it, girl.” Ivy smirks.

I waste no more time with them and rush to the cleaning room, which just so happens to be at the end of this corridor, just around the corner. My pace is so quick, I almost trip.

Upon getting to the door, I’m thankful to find Tallulah is here but shut down. “Tallulah?"

No response. I clap my hands 2 times as if it’ll bring her to life. It’s never worked before, so I don’t even know why I tried.

When she doesn’t power up, I roll my eyes, grabbing a bottle of disinfectant from the shelf and dropping it on the ground.

Tallulah is up and running in a matter of seconds.

"No. Stop.” I move forward to stop her from going to the bottle. “Tallulah, I have a huge favor to ask.”

“ :0 ? ”

“You remember that glowy thing I gave to you?”

“👍”

“Good. Where is it?”

A box on her build opens, revealing the chipped off piece of Revitalization Grain. But I can’t just take it.

“Well, that’s good that you haven’t lost it. Can I have it back, please?”

“ :( ”

“OK, it’s not that I want it. I need it.”

“ >:( ”

I’m serious. There’s no time to argue.“

” 🤬💢🖕🗣🔫🚫✖❗ “

I lick my teeth beneath my pursed lips, realizing this isn’t going to be as easy as it seemed.

"Look, Tallulah, I know you like it. It’s pretty. It’s glowy. I get it.” I soften my tone. “But there are people out there who are dying. A lot of people. But this tiny little stone? It can help them get better. If you give it back to me, you’re saving the lives of so many. You could be a hero.” My brows raise.

“…”

Wow, talk about being left on read.

“ 🆗️ ”

“Yes. Jesus Christ! Thank you!” I quickly hug her. She hands me the small stone, and I pat her on the head. “You’re a lifesaver. Literally.”

“ 🤺 ”

Not sure what she meant by that one, but I leave her to it. I hold the small rock tight in my hand, seeing its glow seep through the gaps in my fingers. And I can’t believe that there’s a chance we can help Alaska save Glamtron. Even if I can’t be with her, I would feel better knowing everything is better back on her planet.

I pass the kitchen and stop dead in my tracks. Shea’s all alone, just staring out at the window. Fuck. I can feel it. The dread creeping up.

“Captain,” I address her. It feels weird calling her that. She’s just been 'Shea’ for a long time now. But with the new task, I guess it’s only appropriate.

She looks away from the window, taken by surprise. “Jinkx, you scared me.” She sniffs, quickly wiping at her eyes. Fuck, this isn’t good.

I walk into the room. “You feeling OK?”

She sighs. “Yeah, I guess I will be.”

She goes back to looking out the window. Standing next to her, I follow her gaze. And I immediately recognize the area.

Large masses of rock float around in the distance. Remains of the Earth.

I purse my lips for a moment, trying to make sense of it. I almost feel confused by what I’m looking at. I know what happened, but it still feels…unfamiliar. “You’d think someone would clean this mess up,” I say.

“No. This is a graveyard, Jinkx. It has to stay.” Shea states.

“Fair enough.”

We continue to stare, like we’re in some sort of trance, watching the pieces float around.

“Wanna hear something funny?” Shea asks, giving me a sad smile.

The mournful aura is weighing down on both of us. Something funny right now would be great. “Yeah, of course.”

“As soon as she broke in, I knew it was our chance—a new purpose. Finally, for the first time in a long, long time, we get to do our thing. And I was…so fucking excited. I couldn’t fucking wait.” She laughs.

I don’t find it funny, but her happiness is making me happy.

But her smile drops. And I know now when she said if I wanted to hear something funny, it wasn’t going to be funny at all.

“But then what? What happens after we leave Celestia?” She asks, looking at me with wet eyes.

Nothing happens. We go back to the same old shit and hope that something good happens.

Shea must’ve been holding back a sob because she chokes, grabbing my attention. She covers her mouth as if it will hold back the other ones.

“Hey, it’ll be fine.” I grab her free hand.

But my words are meaningless. I don’t know if it will be OK or not. So I hug her hoping it’ll help some.

She whispers in my ear, “I just want my family.”

I’m devastated. I really am the lucky one. Who knew being abandoned by my own mother at such a young age could be such a blessing? Because this anguish Shea is expressing? It’s soul-destroying.

She cries into my shoulder some more, and I run my thumb along the back of her shoulder. I can’t even tell her it’s alright. Because I know it won’t be.

I look at the stone in my hand, still hugging Shea. If only this stupid glowy thing could restore the life of this ship. If only it brought back the good times, the adventure, the danger.

I continue to stare at the stone. And I have no idea why, but something I thought about earlier resurfaces.

The loving Queen who went out of her way for her people.

“Fuck.” I whisper.

“I’m sorry.” Shea sniffles, lifting her head. She dabs her eyes with her pinky.

“It’s not you. It’s - -” I begin. But I fail to find words to explain my thought process.

All I can say is I know what I need to do now.

I look at my Captain for what will probably be the last time. “Shea, when the time is right, come find me.”

“What?”

“You’ll know what I mean.”

I pull away from her and go to leave the room, her voice calling after me. But I don’t listen. I need to do this.

-_-_-_-

Alaska stands as I enter the room. I pull the stone from my pocket, and she’s already drawn.

“Fuck, you weren’t kidding when you - -”

I cut her off with a kiss, something to give her more energy. I don’t know how much she’ll need to make it to the escape pod, but hopefully, this should do it.

I pull away. “Change of plan, hon’. You wanna rob the museum?”

“What?” Her brows cross.

“I’m gonna make things right - I’m gonna get the Revitalization Grain back, we’re gonna take it back to Glamtron. And I don’t care if that makes me some sort of intergalactic space villain. When the time comes, we’re gonna fight for your planet.” I babble, and only when I finish do I realize how nuts I sound.

Alaska’s blinking, as if struggling to comprehend everything I just said. “Jinkx, you know the stone? You know it’s called the Glitter Bomb, right? And before you argue, yes, I named it that.”

I roll my eyes, adoring her dorky side. And I hand over the piece of the stone. If we’re getting the glitter bomb - as she calls it- she might as well have this piece now.

As soon as it’s in her hand, she’s glowing. It’s breathtaking.

She’s breathtaking.

“Come on. We need to get to an escape pod quick.” I take her hand.

“No need. I say we take the quicker way.”

“And that is?”

She wraps her long arms around my waist. “You better hang tight.”

And in a matter of seconds, light envelopes us. And the atmosphere changes. We’re outside. If it wasn’t for my trust in her, I’d panic at the thought of suffocating. But I can breathe, and I know it’s one of her quirks.

We’re blasting at the speed of light, passing many planets and stars that would take weeks to pass. And I wonder if people on other planets are looking up at us right now, thinking we’re a shooting star and making wishes.

Speaking of wishes, I kind of wish I could see what’s happening back at the ship. I can just picture it. The sight of Alaska and I whooping by the windows, Shea realizing what’s going on, giving commands and ordering everyone to get a move on. Ivy trying to figure out where we went, giving her plenty of searching to do. Milk, Kameron, and Bob working on kicking the ship back into action. Everyone just running around, trying to shake the energy back into themselves.

'Cause they have a new purpose now. I am their enemy. And that couldn’t make me happier. Because I know they’ll be thankful for giving this to them, something we all had been waiting for.

But what makes me happier, more than anything, is that I’m here with Alaska. We’re going to save Glamtron, the planet formally known as Celestia. We’re going to protect it at all costs.

And, most importantly, I’m going to be with her for the rest of my life.

#rpdr fanfiction #jinkx monsoon #alaska thunderfuck #ivy winters #shea coulee #courtney act #bianca del rio #jalaska #fluff #sci fi #angst #hurt/comfort #lesbian au #head in the clouds #grinder #concrit welcome

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