#which was just her hovering her hand above the painful place

[tchaikovskym]

I have to admit I never even imagined witches to be evil until I came here on tumblr and read some of y'alls analysis of literature and other media. The whole evil laugh and brewing potions did not connect to being evil in my mind ever. I was just raised with everyone around me thinking witches were cool as hell.

[dearlyya]

TIL’ WE MEET AGAIN | Young!Silco x Fem!Reader

Series Summary; Silco tells a new story to a curious Jinx.

Warnings; Angst, pre-canon, hurt/comfort, Zaunites, Piltians, revolution, violence, blood, gore, drinking, smoking, gambling, swearing, sex, brothels, drugs, slow burn, the reader is a coward at first, original character (Wynn), strangers to lovers, bittersweet, Old Silco being weirdly sentimental, Jinx being noisy, and major character death.

PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER | MASTERLIST

Silco's office door closes when Sevika takes her leave, his dual eyes stare indifferently into the wooden entrance.

Briefly resting his face on his hand so he can rub at his cheek bone. He flickers his irritation to the paper in front of him, reading through the documents neatly arranged on his desk. Flipping through it–His lengthy fingers daintaly holding up each page before letting them fall back in place.

Through habit he moves his chair to the left of the desk, opening up the middle drawer, taking out a small compact box, shutting the thing closed and placing the wooden box on the side of the desk, aiming to not dirty the papers. He opens the humidor, four expensive cigars lay neatly inside. Taking one of the sticks and the straight cutters, he fixes the cigar between his fingers and brings the sheers to the front and slides the stick in between the blades, and shuts the guillotine. 

SNAP!

He rolls back and turns the chair to face the large window, so that the green light that pours into the room which not only illuminates the furniture, but the kingpin as well–highlighting his features. His good eye blends with the light, the seafoam green melting away a stark contrast from the damaged one. The green clashes against the bright angry orange, the toxic waters of the Undercity fully displayed on the left of his face, the hard horrors of his youth.

Finally, he slips his hand into his vest. His delicate fingers glided over the finely knitted fabric of his striped burgundy shirt before delving into the soft contours of the breast pocket. With a practiced motion, his digits deftly retrieve a small, rectangular item. Something cold to the touch against his fingertips, the metal texture bumpy and slightly damaged. 

It's a lighter. Gray and metallic with a fancy lace eloping it–vines and roses, perfectly crafted to be comfortable to hold while simultaneously being bold and beautiful even with scratches and dents along the body. Silco caressed the carvings with the pad of his thumb. Specifically a scratchy name on the front of it. Until he was holding it properly, he extended it enough to flick the small thing open and ignite it.

The flame dances dimly, alone. Slico rolls the cigar in his fingers and hovers it over the fire, lighting the end of it. Flicking the lighter closed, he takes a long drag of the cigar. Savoring the smoke he inhales, holding the earthy smoke in his mouth. Not letting it fester for too long he puffs it out. 

Above him is an audible creaking followed by a loud thunk behind him, just then he felt his eye send a sharp pain throughout his face. He takes another drag, hoping that it eases his nerves. It does not. Huffing it out he turns the chair to face the girl sitting impatiently on his desk. Strews of papers now scattered about. Screw organization.

"You have impeccable timing," Jinx smiles and tilts her head side to side while lazily whipping the end of one of her braids of hair in a swirling motion. Jinx then scoots forward. The papers crumpled under her butt make the scooting easier, some falling off the edge. She places her feet in between Silcos spread legs, planting them firmly in place and with most of her leg strength she easily moves the chair with the bemused kingpin closer to the desk. The chair creaked as she did so. Jinx blows a raspberry and guiltily giggles. 

"Pfft- yeah just the best of timing, heh" She snatches the device out of the top drawer. Moving her legs she turns the chair to the right to pull him even closer, the armrest bumps roughly into the desk. Jinx plops her legs on top of his kicking her feet under the other armrest. The kingpin throughout this doesn't seem bothered, used to his daughter's theatrics. 

"You mustn't spy on me when I'm in a meeting" Silco narrows his eye at her, no actual malice in his expression. He positions the cigar away, so she doesn't smell it when he gently places it in the ashtray, not snubbing it out.

"Wasn't spying — just watching Ms. Righty" Jinx chuckles at her own morbid nickname, and drapes her forearm on Silcos head, as she leans on the chair. The device occasionally tapped against his temple. The blue-haired girl whines about being bored and how Sevika won't let her on jobs. Calling his right-hand an ogre that isn't cool or fun–but is, however, currently green as Jinx had shot her with paintballs. The reason why Sevika was fuming in his office not too long ago. Silco listens, nodding his head along to her rambles in a tired fatherly way. In his right hand he fidgets with the lighter. The glint reflecting off the window light brings the small thing to Jinx's attention. Abruptly stopping in the middle of her rant, watercolor eyes flickering at the silver most importantly at the poorly written name on the front of it.

"Watch'ya got there?" She hitches her leg up on the arm of the chair and rests her tilting head on her knee, unblinking eyes stare at the item in his hand. Silco unclenches the lighter and grips it with his fingers slowly handing it to the curious baby blue. She quickly picks the thing out of his grasp after dropping the device on the table with a low clank. She brings the lighter closer to her face, so she can fix on the smudged words, muttering under her breath "is that a 'a' or an 'b' or maybe a-?" she would've gone through the entire alphabet if Silco had not said her name to pull her out of her thoughts.

"What does this say, can you tell me?" Frantic, she moves the light far away from her face, dramatically turning her head to the patient kingpin, his hands hanging loosely between his thighs humming in a low tune, debating on entertaining her offbeat curiosity.

"Aww' c'mon I'm dying of boredom here!" Jinx flails around her spot before falling onto her back with her arms spread out on the desk, her head is to the left looking at the metal rectangle with a pout. Twirling it with her pink and blue nails. Silco sighs, looking at his suddenly sad daughter–he knows she's just playing him, he caves anyways. Not without teaching about bartering, when a certain stinging sensation occurs. The nerves of his left eye spread out to his scarred side, eating away at him.

"Administer my medicine, then I'll think about it" Jinx pouts, but hands him the lighter anyway. Grabbing the device that was left on the table. "Finnee-" Grumbling, she moves forward so she's close to his face and places the contraption over his eye. She waits, eyes flickering from the button on top to his bad eye. When her gaze finally looks at the good eye, she presses the button. Instantly, he shoots forward, straining in his seat as Jinx still holds onto his jaw. He tightens his grip on the light. The dose of shimmer elopes his eye–the red widening before shrinking back to an orange. The purple substance fighting away at the toxins left behind, a single shimmer tear runs down his scarred cheek. 

"Done! Now, tell me!" Jinx haphazardly drops the medical device on the desk, again. Pulling up her legs on the arm, so she can rest her head on knees, and dig her colorful nails into her muted maroon pants. She puts most of her body weight on the side of the chair, making it dip only slightly. Waiting for her father to catch his breath and follow up on his end of the bargain. Slicking his salt and pepper hair back, he leans into the chair. Adjusting his sitting and wiping away the tear before answering her.

"It reads Lady." 

"Why does it say that and why do you have something that says that and why is it so badly written?-" He sighs, still rubbing at the now disappeared shimmer. Jinx's questioning doesn't throw him off, his eyes narrow in amusement. "Will it ease your curious need about my youth if I told you it was from an old friend?" Jinx gives him a weird look.

"I thought you said we shouldn't hold onto the past and blah blah blah" Jinx begins to flap her hand in a talking motion. He grabs her wrist, making her look him in the eye. His face was serious.

"We shouldn't hold onto the past and let it consume us." He says sternly, letting her go when she begrudgingly nods. Jinx notices a fondness lit in his eye, as he then gestures to the lighter in his hand. The flame, as quickly as it appeared, dims away.

"That is more or less something nostalgic, a keepsake out of appreciation" Jinx looks at him then the lighter, then back at him. "For who?" Jinx asks. Silco smirks.

"An old friend"

"UGHHH" She dramatically flops down again, crossing her arms. Jinx begins to spin Silco, moving her legs accordingly, in an attempt at a punishment for making vague remarks. Silco lets her for only a moment, stopping her when he's fully faced in front of her by taking the leg off the armrest and letting it drop to the floor next to the other. Silco hums in thought.

"It was...from a past love of mine" From her sitting position, Jinx snaps her head up. Her attention gained back. She's not perturbed by this new information, her curiosity only grows. "Hehehe, you fancied someone?" She giggles, hunching over. Her hands either side of her thighs gripping the edge of the desk and kicking her hanging feet.

"Mhm, I did..." As memories of the past flood his mind, he forcefully wrestles himself from saying ‘I do’ . The past should linger in the past, and in the palm of his hand like a burdensome weight. Despite this, his thumb still circles around the lighter. In response, Jinx visibly slouched, her frown growing more pronounced.

"What happened?" Jinx knows now that this friend is no longer here, someone who was once close to her father–she began thinking. Her gaze flicks restless between Silco’s eyes, her hands fidgeting as they cling together. Her thumb incessantly rubs against her palm, creating a raw spot on her skin. Sensing the tension, Silco quietly places his hand on her knee, tenderly tracing comforting lines with his fingertips to ease her away from the rhythmic rubbing and her own reminiscing. 

He knows Jinx would ask non-stop about this subject, as if she were still the 12 year old that he took in years ago. Even if he did indulge Jinx in her possible endless quest of nagging him til’ he complies. He would have no idea where to begin, he’s sure that his late-companion would tell it differently, albeit dramatically. Jinx has learned through his lectures of betrayal, perhaps one on loyalty might have the same effect. 

"What happened to most Zaunites during the revolutionary years-" Silco lifts his head smoothly, his gaze hardening with growing anger. Behind the pride he feels for his expanding nation, he holds a knife to the throat of the ‘Nation of Progress’ Silco’s thoughts travel back to his last moment with her, realizing the irony that lies within the nickname of Piltover. With a cool deliberateness, Sico carefully considers his next words as he looks at his daughter. Who is seated with uncharacteristic patience. 

The cigar in the tray burns, forgotten. "-Perishing with no name under the cold gold-plated boot of Piltover"

[justmeinadaze]

Sexy (Eddie X Plus Size Reader)

Someone sent me a message with a personal ask about a plus size reader who's a bit insecure about her body with a praise kink with Eddie so I bare you this. Remember, you are beautiful inside and out <3.

Warnings: Mentions of insecurities with being a plus size girlie; Eddie is comforting as always <3

Word Count: 902

“Fuck, baby, that feels so good.”, Eddie exhales as he licks his lips and his palms squeeze into your meaty hips as you roll them against him, pushing his cock deeper inside of you. “B-Bounce, sweetheart. I want to see you dripping all over my dick.”

At his words, your rhythm gradually came to a stop causing his eyes to snap open as he pushed up onto his elbows. 

“What…what’s wrong, babe? Everything…ok?”

“Yeah, um, can we…can you be on top?”

Blinking up at you, your boyfriend suddenly noticed that your eyes weren’t filled with lust anymore but pain. 

“Yeah, baby, sure. Does it hurt? Do we need to take a break or—”

Your lips cut off him off as you cup his face in your hands. You had been dating Eddie Munson for a few months and you loved everything about him. While in school he liked to come off as “mean and scary” but with his friends or alone with you, he had the sweetest heart you had ever seen. 

While the other kids made you insecure, he made you feel beautiful. The first time you were intimate with him, he took control which is honestly the way you preferred it and he never seemed inconvenienced by your body in any way. 

It always lingered in your mind through. 

When he would rest his head on your chest and wasn’t able to wrap his arms all the way around your stomach like you could with him. When his lips would travel along your flab you wished you could have abs like he did. When people would snicker as he held your hand, a part of you felt like it was your fault and you should let him go to be with someone who visually was more appealing. 

But you loved him so much…

Which is why when he flipped you both over till you were on top of him you didn’t protest. You wanted to make him feel as good as he made you feel but you struggled to get out of your head to enjoy it yourself. 

“No, Eddie. I just…”

Wrapping his arms around you to hold you in place, he shifts his body till he was sitting up and leaning against the headboard so he could give you his full attention. 

“Talk to me, princess. You know you can tell me anything.”

“I just…I feel like…when I’m on top or I bounce…I look gross.”

The metalhead’s eyes widened as if you had said the most shocking thing he had ever heard.

“But you don’t. You’re extremely gorgeous, Y/N.”

“Pfft, thanks.”, you giggle. “But from this angle you can see my double chins and then my stomach and boobs are like…jiggling and I just…”

“You say these things like they’re bad.” 

Eddie smiles when your eyes playfully narrow but when you extend your arm to lightly punch his chest he grabs your wrist and pulls you forward till your nose is hovering just above his. 

“Seriously though. Y/N, you are the most beautiful woman I’ve seen in my entire life. The first time I saw you I thought one of my campaign princesses came to life. These things here?” He pauses as he gently pinches your thighs, tummy, and cheeks. “They make you, you.”

Eddie smirks when your forehead falls on his and your arms circle around his shoulders. 

“You like that, baby? You like it when I compliment you?”, he murmurs against your lips as your hips start to roll against him again. “Because it true. I never say anything I don’t mean. Fuck, my good girl.”

“Eddie.”

“Does my beautiful girl like to be praised? Of course she does. Focus on me, sweetheart. L-Let me focus on your body and how sexy it is when you ride my dick.”

Placing your hands below his ears, you cling to him as you begin to utilize your knees to bounce up and down on his lap, mewling as his thick cock stretched and hit every button inside of you. 

“That’s my good girl. Shit, just like that. Your little pussy takes me s-so well.”

“Fuck, Eddie.”

“That’s…that’s it, pretty girl. I love the way my name sounds coming out of those…sexy lips. I love that your mine.”

“Oh my god. Say it again.”

Your boyfriend breathily laughs as his palms roam your skin. 

“Your beautiful face, these perfect tits, your tummy, t-these eatable thighs, and this gorgeous ass…”, he recites as he smacks your behind. “…are mine. You are mine, Y/N.”

Feeling your body begin to tremble, he immediately cups your cheeks in his hands. 

“Open your eyes, baby. I want you to look at me as you cum.”

“Fuck.”

Rolling your waist, your gaze never leaves his as you cling to one of his wrists and your jaw falls open as you come undone. 

“Good, good girl. That’s my girl.”, Eddie chants as his grip on you tightens and spills into the condom. “Fuck, that was amazing. I love you, sweetheart.”

You smile weakly as you fall against his chest and he gently pets your head, playing with your hair. 

“I love you, baby. I’m sorry for being…me.”

“Hey, you never have to apologize for that. It wasn’t just a heat of the moment thing, Y/N. I meant what I said. I love you and your body. You and this sexy ass are safe with me.”

############

Eddie Asks/ Donate to Me

[shaisuki]

Ok after having two kids, clan head gojo wants a 3rd one as his bday present 👀✨

Can you write about this?

the late afternoon sunlight peeks through the windows of your home located at the gojo compound. dappled by the sun rays and you can see the small particles of dust and whatever matter floating in space.

steam dances above from where your cup of tea is placed alongside with a plate of assorted sweets that goes well with a hot beverage. you were starting to get bored now. the house was quiet which you aren't really used to. it was filled with squeals and cries of your two children along with the laughter of your husband. their footsteps creating the most thunderous sound resonating in the household.

today, there's no sound of that. satoru was out, holding a clan meeting and your two children with him is fast sleep. motherhood is tiring as it is rewarding. ten years ago your younger self wouldn't believe that you're now married and had two kids with gojo. both under the age of seven and they were the liveliest of kids you have ever seen.

probably because when you and gojo decided to have kids, they aren't going to be raised like you two. a different kind of upbringing. one that won't shoulder the responsibilities of an adult and shall live their life with laughter and innocence of a child should have.

it took you years to have them. unsure if you're ready to be a parent and neither is satoru so he held your hand in his with a promise that you shall not bear the hardships of parenting alone and until to this day, he kept that.

speaking of him, the front door rattled. discarding his wooden sandals before sprinting towards where you were seated. “i'm home.” he whispers as he dive to your lap. pressing his cheek to the softness of your stomach. a sigh escaping his lips as he slowly relaxed in your touch. “welcome home.” your voice coming in a murmur. threading your fingers in his snow-white hair. your husband leans to get more of your touch. his eyes fluttering close.

“how's the meeting, satoru?”

he lets out a long sigh. “a pain in the ass. all of them.” huffing as he hugs your plump waist. burying his face deeper to your round stomach. “where's the kids?” his voice a little quiet being muffled by your stomach. “asleep. they were waiting for their papa and i told them their papa won't be home unless they sleep.” a smile ghosting to your lips. remembering how your children reasoned that they won't sleep unless they see him.

“say satoru, your birthday's near. what do you want as a present?” the thought passing while you think of him.

his birthday, huh? he never really thought of it with how busy stuff were. balancing his duty as the clan head and being a father to his children with you and as a husband. birthdays weren't his thing for himself unless it was yours and the kids.

he opens an eye. the blues in his eyes glimmering as he thought of something. maybe it's the right to wish and he had exactly wants in his mind. he's been wanting it for a long time.

“i want a another baby with you.” he says with a smile. without hesitation.

“again, satoru? not that i'm against with it. think you can handle another baby again. the diapers and no sleeping at all?” you didn't need to ask him. he had done all the things without hesitation. enjoying every moment with it. bonding with his children. his treasures.

“i want to see you round again with my baby. i love seeing you pregnant. heavy with my baby. satoshi and suzu been asking for a sibling.” raising his head to meet your gaze. “you're using satoshi and suzu to convince me, satoru.” there's a teasing undertone in your voice while you try it to be in a firm one.

he fakes a pout. “can you blame me? i just love my wife so much that i want to fill her up with my babies and worship her.” satoru hot breath tickling your neck while he slowly pushes you to the tatami covered floor. his body hovering yours.

you leaned to his ear. “guess what, satoru? i think santa heard your wish and came early for your birthday.” you intertwined your hands in his and placing it to your stomach.

“for real?” a wolfish grin stretching his lips. chuckling as he puts palm to your round stomach that carried his two children and now, a third one. you giggle softly at his reaction.

satoru's reaction to your pregnancies were the best. “happy birthday, satoru.” greeting him and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

[cameronspecial]

hiii, could i request reader pranking rafe/drew? Maybe telling rafe/drew that she got waxed by a guy or pretending to be on a call with a friend and telling her friend ways to cheat? It’s up to you, thank you soooo much!!

Elizabeth's Replacement

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of Sex At The End

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.4K

Masterlist

After seeing the video on TikTok, Y/N knows what she has to do once she gets home from her waxing appointment. She places her bag on the floor beside the couch and sits down beside her boyfriend. Rafe looks up from her phone, “Hey, Princess. How was your appointment?” She shoves his arm in front of his face. “Feel how soft my arm is. Elizabeth’s replacement did a good job.” His warm hand rests on her forearm at her request and feels her smooth skin. He leans over to kiss her, “Very good. Why did you have a replacement? Where was Elizabeth?” Y/N fishes out her phone from her pockets and begins looking through it. “She is sick. Don’t worry, Charlie took good care of me.” At first, Rafe doesn’t think anything of the name. “Yeah, that’s good,” he states, going back to scrolling on his phone. Y/N smiles, “Yep, he even put this cream that numbs the pain on me when he did my Brazilian wax.” Rafe’s thumb freezes and hovers over his screen. “What do you mean he? And which one is a Brazilian again?” 

She acts and looks up at him, “Charlie is a guy and a Brazilian is for the vagina. Why do you ask?” Rafe throws his phone to the side and quickly flips himself so he is standing above her. His hands slam against the back of the couch, caging her in. “What do you mean a man saw my pussy?” he growls. She knows he didn’t make a mistake with the possessive determiner because this is a case of when his possessiveness shines through. His eyes darken, dripping with anger. She can’t hold it in anymore and begins to giggle. His head tilts and confusion flashes in his eyes, but the fury remains. “What are you laughing at?” She rests her hand over his chest, “It was a prank, Baby. Elizabeth was there and she took care of me. There was no guy. I made him up.” “So no one else has seen my pussy except for me, you and Elizabeth?” he confirms. 

She grins up at him and kisses him, “No one else has seen me. I promise.” He lets out a loud breath and steps back. A frustrated laugh falls out of his lips before he leans forward right in front of her face. “Don’t think because you just got waxed, you aren’t going to be punished. Once you are healed, I am going to make you regret pulling that prank. At least, Elizabeth’s handiwork is going to be put to good use.” He picks up his phone and storms out of the room, most likely going to work out to blow off steam. Y/N’s thighs clench together and she is begging the universe to make the forty-eight hours go by fast because she can’t wait for what Rafe has in store for her punishment. 

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming @magicalyoura @rubixgsworld

[msdoodlesposts]

inspired by a post by @da-floof

Poppy had her hands together, the tips of them at her lips as she quietly looked you up and down along with the giant half of a dog on your back that was about 3 times your size.

“H-how exactly did you managed to carry him?” She asked.

“Adrenalin, a lot of it” You replied bending over a bit to try to compensate the weight on your back, Adrenalin was the only thing keeping you going at this point for the last day or so, it was hard to keep track of time once you got deeper into this hellish abyss.

But your were not just gonna leave the second person you met who didn’t immediately try to murder you to those tiny demonic stuff animals, you didn’t expect him to be a lot bigger then you but at the moment it wasn’t the time to think about that when the smaller crawling smiling critters had started coming towards you and attempted to crawl inside of the dog character.

Which explains the blood on your shoes,hands and grab pack hands.

“C-can someone get him please?” You ask as your knees started to shake a bit, the adrenaline run you been on since hour one starting to wear off, which wasn’t good with the situation your in.

Kissy came over and gently picked up the injured Dog being careful to not let the belt around him get loose, and just in time as you collapsed to your knees and ended up throwing up what food you had in your system.

You shook softly as you took in deep breaths, trying to ignore the pain that was basically everywhere in your body.

“…how about you come rest for a bit with us, I think you need it”

“Nah you think” you replied to the red head doll before loosing your meal again. God everything hurted.

You let out a noise as kissy wrapped a arm around you and you let yourself be carried over to the platform, your body acting a bit like a rag doll in the tall pink toy grip.

Once set down your curled up and let out a shaky breath as the platform rose back up, you were safe even it was just a little bit, for now.

“You ok Angle?”

You let out a snort as Dogday had managed to crawl next to you and was slightly hovering over you now, empty eyes looking over you nervously, “oh I’m just peachy” you said sarcastically your voice nearly above a whisper now.

“.. You didn’t have to save me, you should have run”

You rolled your eyes “and leave you hanging, literally?” You frown a bit seeing him flinch a bit, you sigh “it wasn’t a problem saving you” you spoke “we need all the help we can get and I wasn’t leaving someone to just die”

Dogday didn’t say anything and you hope you didn’t offend him, you weren’t exactly in the mood to be pleasant.

You shifted a bit when your head was lifted a bit and a paw a bit bigger then your head was placed under it acting like a pillow

“You should get some rest” Dogday spoke, you smiled a tiny bet, finding it funny thinking you could rest after everything that was going on, but you close your eyes to pleased the dog and promptly fell asleep, your body shutting down to try and get over the adrenaline rush and even though it was short about 20 minutes, you had a odd dream of vanilla

[xoxomoonlightxoxo]

The Girl That Disappeared | Suspect #2 JJK

⇠ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯. | 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐱 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ⇢  

✧ Synopsis: It was a gloomy Friday evening when you felt the mists of melancholy pulse through your veins, aching body floating above the deep water. Squeezing your eyes shut, your lips trembled with fear. You didn’t want to die, but you sure as hell didn’t want to live. Not in this town. Not with the people in it. So, why don’t you just disappear? Leave them to search for the remnants of who you had been before you realised that life is more painful than death. Park Jimin. Kim Taehyung. Jeon Jungkook. Best-friend, step-brother, and an ex-lover. Although their paths had never crossed before that gloomy Friday evening, their names, printed in bold, now remained on the top of the suspect list. Stories entangled in your mystery.

✧ w/c: 6.1k ✧ a/n: a lot is going on here but please let me know what you think, mwuah 💓 ✧ taglist: @kookieandjoonberries @whoa-jo @taevestr @smoljimjim @kookxin

@11thenightwemet11 @xumyboo @kingofbodyrolls @jksusawife

“Y/n-ah! I’m leaving, please turn on the security,” your mother’s voice echoed from the entrance as you heard the front door close. She was working on-call today, and while it seemed like you finally had an opportunity to spend some quality time together, the hospital rang her in for an emergency operation at the last minute. 

“Okay, love you,” you yelled from your room, picking up the laundry off the floor before heading downstairs. No one was home. Mr. Kim had a night shift and wouldn’t be back until later and only God knew where Taehyung was. 

Scrolling through your phone, you smiled at the photos Jimin sent you from his parent’s ranch house. It’s been a week since he left, and you couldn’t help but miss him. The two of you haven’t gone this long without seeing each other, so it felt weird not being able to call him over. 

“Y/n, it’s so nice here, you would’ve loved it,” he smiled through the phone, resting his head on the soft pillow. 

“I bet,” you whined. 

“Next time, you’re coming with me, okay? There’s this waterfall I’ve been dying to show you,” 

“Okay … I missed you Jimin-ah,” your voice broke, glossy eyes looking down at the teddy bear he got for your birthday. 

“Y/n-ie, you know I missed you more,” Jimin moved in closer, placing a kiss on his front camera as you glanced up.

“Now, get some sleep, I’ll talk to you tomorrow, mmhm,”

“Goodnight,” you whispered with a little wave. 

“Sleep tight, angel,” 

He never called after that. All your attempts went straight to voicemail. It was strange, Jimin always valued communication, and never was the type to let you wonder about his whereabouts. Kept you posted even with a little “k”, just to signify that he got the message. But, now, it felt like he was gone. Vanished into thin air, like nothing happened. And, it killed you knowing that you couldn’t do anything about it. 

The clock read 7 am on the dot, which meant that you still had about two hours till the first bell. It was the first day of your period and your cramps were horrendous, to say the least. They’re usually a pain in the ass but never this bad. Looking through the medicine cabinet you rummaged past the bandaids and the gummy vitamins before remembering that Taehyung took the last Ibuprofen for his headache last night. It was ironic how little painkillers you had in the house, knowing that your mom was a doctor. But, it’s because she always preached the importance of letting your body heal naturally. Science could only get you so far, I guess? 

Zipping up your windbreaker, you grabbed your wallet and keys before heading outside to the local grocery store until the sound of a slammed door left you frozen in your tracks. It came from upstairs. Looking up at the dark corridor you turned on the lights, following the breeze seeping through the cracks of your room. 

“Taehyung?” you called, hands hovering over the doorknob. No one answered. Why would they? You were the only one in the house, right? 

“Taehyung, if this is one your stupid jok-” you whispered again before facing the empty room. 

No sight of Taehyung, but your window was open, which explained the door. The only problem was that you didn’t remember opening it in the first place. Nonetheless, you would gladly accept this version of the incident over the possibility of some paranormal activity. One problem at a time, please. 

So, you shut your blinds and went back downstairs to turn off the security system before grabbing your bike from the garage. You didn't have a licence, and only got your learners about a month ago, so if no one was home you had to resort to another form of transportation. 

You didn’t mind biking though. Found it rather therapeutic. Loved the alone time it allowed for without the bombardment of life and its constant obstacles. Just you and your thoughts. And, although there was a bit of a fog, it was clear enough to see where you were going. So, you buckled your helmet and went off on your journey to secure some Ibuprofen. 

Exiting the gated community, you biked through the local primary school, passing by a parking lot of sleep-deprived parents rushing to work after dropping off their little ones. It was getting a bit chilly as the wind picked up, so you stopped to put on some mittens and a hat before glancing back at the rustling sound behind the corner. 

“Hello?” 

Again, no one answered. But, that didn’t stop the chills running down your spine, remembering the incident earlier at home. Looking down at your watch, you gasped at the 20 minutes that had already passed, yet, you were nowhere near the grocery store. So, it was time to focus. 

Biking down the empty road, your eyes were scattered across the painted scenery. The old brick houses and the tall trees. The rusted mailboxes and the garden gnomes. It all felt so nostalgic. So close to your heart, as if tethered by the strings of your past. But, the feeling was short-lived. Consumed by the eerie melancholy inching up your skin as you felt someone's presence behind you. 

This time, you weren’t wrong. Covered from head to toe, it looked like a man. Keeping a civil distance, he followed your turns. Left. Right. Straight. Right. Left. Straight. Coincidence or not, this wasn’t a common path that people took. Not many knew of the shortcut. So, you began to speed up, feeling the adrenaline kick in once he did the same. Now, it was a chase. 

Pushing through the burning pain in your calves you picked up the pace, feet firm on the pedals. He didn't pity your fatigue, only fueled it more by inching closer before the two of you were riding side-by-side. Keeping an eye on his uncanny demeanour, you flinched at the sound of a car horn blast through your trembling state as a white Honda glared past you, pointing at the stop sign. 

“I'm sorry,” you whispered under your breath. 

“You're fast,” the man scoffed, tilting his head with a sly grin. That's all you could see. 

“Who are you?” you yelled, voice trembling in panic. 

“I’ll give you a head start, mmhm?” he sneered, changing the gears on his bike. 

Feeling the tightness in your throat, you were gasping for air, dilated pupils scanning the surroundings for help. Unfortunately, as if praying on your downfall, the street was empty. Not a soul in sight. So, you pressed on the pedals, leaving the man in the dust as you prayed that the next turn led to people. 

Gas station. Bingo. 

Hoping off your bike you bolted towards the door. 

“Hey, hey, hey,” the cashier yelled out, furrowed gaze searching the panic on your face. You could feel the flush rise up your cheeks, but the absence of Mr. X occupied your mind. 

“I’m so sorry,” you mouthed, clearly out of breath before dialling Jimin’s phone number. It was like second nature. You didn’t even realise it until your call went straight to voicemail. 

“Oh, right,” a sigh escaped your lips, remembering that he was still MIA.

Looking through your contacts, there was only one more person you could call. But, the possibility of them actually agreeing to help you was as slim as your waist after all that exercise. Nonetheless, you took a deep breath and pressed the call button. 

“Taehyung?” 

“What do you want, y/n?” he scoffed. 

“Right. So, potentially … if you could … would you mind picking me up from the gas station near River Banks?” you whispered, careful with every word as you anticipated his response. 

“Potentially, screw you. What the fuck did you lose there?” 

“It’s kind of a long story but I do need to be at school in about half an hour,” 

“Can I even say no?”

“Last time I checked it was a free country but a dangerous one at that. So, if I'm kidnapped, my blood is on your hands,” 

“You and that victim mentally of yours go way back, huh?” 

“Please, Taehyung. I’ve never asked you for a favour before,” 

“Fine, give me 10 minutes,” he sighed, ending the call before you could even thank the guy. 

The car ride home was quiet. No radio. Windows rolled up. Silence. 

“So, you’re really not gonna tell me?” Taehyung asked with an arched brow, glancing at your stiff form as the light turned red. 

You’ve never been good at lying. Even if your mouth stayed shut, your face would’ve revealed it all. Essentially, there was no running away from the truth in your case. 

“Well … no one was home and I needed medicine so I decided to bike to the grocery store,” you began explaining, avoiding his eyes. 

“Mmhm,”

“And then …” you paused, hesitating the next part. What if Mr. Kim finds out? What if you were blowing this out of proportion? 

“Y/n. You’re making me angry. Just say it,” he scolded, pressing on the pedal. 

“Sorry. Um, so yeah … I was biking and then out of nowhere this man started following me. So, I tried losing him by taking different turns but … ended up getting lost,” 

“You were followed?” there was a slight change in Taehyung’s voice. Less sarcastic, more intrigued. 

“I guess?” 

“Well, did you see what he looked like?” 

“Not, really. He was covered from head to toe. Except …” you gasped, eyes shut as your brain scavenged through its short-term memory, recalling the moment at the stop sign. 

“Yes?” 

“The side of his mouth was … bruised like he got punched or something?” you leaned back into the seat, fidgeting with your rings while Taehyung merged onto the right lane. He was too focused on the road to hear what you said, but as you glanced at his face your eyes widened, spotting the same purple marks. 

“What?” he growled, furrowed gaze glaring back at your parted lips. 

“Nothing.” you chuckled awkwardly, reaching for the radio before his cold hand touched yours. 

“Look me dead in the eyes and tell me.” he sneered, interlocking his fingers with yours. You’ve known each other for almost a year, yet, your shoulders have never even grazed past each other. So, this was strange, to say the least. 

“Tell you what?” you said hushly, gulping down the nerves as he levelled his face to meet your scattering eyes. 

“That you’re scared,” 

“I’m not,” you scoffed, feeling the flush in your cheeks. 

“Good. Because why the fuck would it be me, you dumbass.” his voice got louder with each word, throwing your hand back before rolling down the windows. Finally. Some fresh air. 

Why would it be him, y/n? You weren’t his favourite but, this was too much. Taehyung was a straightforward person, if he hated you he would say it to your face. So, these mind games were really not his thing. But, then again, what’s up with the bruised lip? 

Fixing your uniform you walked into the brightly lit classroom. First period. Physics. No one was in their seats, let alone bothered by the fact that the teacher was almost 10 minutes late. Placing your books on the desk you looked over at the empty seat beside you. Jimin was still gone. No one has heard from him in weeks. 

Bing Bing

Rampaging through your backpack you searched for your phone. You didn’t have time to properly pack because Taehyung was counting down the minutes before he threatened to drive off, so you just threw everything in hoping to fix it during your free period. Scrolling through the notifications your eyes focused on the text message from an unknown number. 

“I missed you.” you mouthed under your breath.

“Sorry everyone, the meeting took a bit longer,” Mr. Choi chuckled softly, speed-walking into the room before ushering everyone to their seats. 

“I missed you?” you whispered again, eyebrows knitted with confusion. Was it Jimin? Did he change his number? 

“Nonetheless, I am pleased to introduce our new transfer student …” 

You couldn’t recognize the area code, so you tried looking it up on the internet but found nothing useful. Was this some kind of a scam? An innocent prank, maybe? 

“Jeon Jungkook” Mr. Choi’s voice suddenly echoed in your ears making you glance up at the dark-haired boy standing in front of the class. Interestingly, he was already looking at you. Hooded gaze focused on the way your demeanour changed completely. 

“Jungkook, feel free to take any empty seat,” 

Bowing to the man, he did exactly that. Slowly passing by the first three rows before stopping by the seat next to you. Nodding his head, he seemed pleased with the pick. 

“Oh, no sorry, Jungkook-ah, that seat belongs to another student,” Mr. Choi called out with a smile that quickly faded as he watched him sit regardless. 

“There’s plenty of options. I’m sure they’ll find another one,” Jungkook muttered with a sly grin, taking out his books before turning his attention to your widened eyes. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, y/n,” he rasped against your hair, gently tucking it behind your ear to fix the back of your collar. His dark orbs flickered down to your parted lips, sending shivers down your spine.

The first kiss you shared with Jungkook was between your eyes. The way his furrowed gaze softened upon seeing you walk down the wooden stairs of your childhood home, in the lavender dress he bought for your birthday. The way he nervously nibbled on his lip ring before caressing the back of your hand, fingers intertwined with yours. Everything about him was gentle when it came to you. The way his warm embrace moulded into yours, as you grew to share the same breath, the same heartbeat. One singularity in the form of two lovers. 

He filled the void your father left as you failed to please his expectations. The ones only a son could bear. The nights you spent crying in your room, wishing that your mother didn’t have to suffer the humiliation of raising a daughter, Jungkook was there. Like a knight in shining armour, he always saved you. Hoped to give you the future you deserve if you promised to share it with him. The two of you were inseparable. Attached by the hip. 

Until, one day, you weren’t. 

It’s been a week since Jungkook transferred schools. His seat still next to you. Inches away from the past that tethered your souls. You didn’t talk much. Mentally exhausted from the consequences. But, his eyes. They never lied. Sneaking glimpses across the room, watching your every move. He wanted you to give in, to tell him why you left. Help him understand how someone so close could betray his trust, his loyalty, his love. Jungkook didn’t hate you, wouldn’t let anyone get too close, but he was hurt. You could see it in his eyes. The same eyes that onces sparkled under the shimmering lights of the night sky when you shared your first kiss.

Dipping your feet into the pool you wanted to test the water before running through the new drill your coach crafted for the upcoming swim meet. To put it lightly, it was freezing. Goosebumps all over your skin, nipples cut through glass type of freezing. You would think a school with such a budget could afford a heated pool but beggars can’t be choosers. So, you tucked your hair under the swim camp and started on some stretches. 

“One … two … three …” you breathed out, counting the reps before glancing up at the flickering lights. School ended about an hour ago, so the place was pretty empty except for the janitors and a few teachers who stayed back to work on some grading. There was no practice today, but you had a spare key to the pool, so it was just you and the water. 

“Hello?” you called out, covering yourself with the towel. No response. 

“Sorry, this is a closed practice,” you shouted out again, hearing footsteps coming from the changing rooms. 

“Hel-” 

The lights went out. Goosebumps covered your skin, heart beat through the roof. Now what? 

“This isn't funny. Turn the lights back on!”

No one answered, but the footsteps inched closer. You could sense that they were near but it was too dark to make out a figure. Then, he chuckled. Subtle but devious chuckle. Like it was all premeditated. 

“Where is it?” a voice echoed, bouncing off the four walls. It was familiar. 

“Jungkook? Is that you?” you gasped, looking over your shoulder, hands trembling in fear.  

“Where is it, y/n?” his tone was firm. 

“Where's what?” 

“Don't act dumb, love,” he sneered, hands hovering over your waist making you flinch at the sudden feeling. The smell of his vanilla musk lingered in the air as you matched each other’s breathing, skin to skin. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you whispered, chest heaving up from the tension. 

“Where’s my baby?” he rasped against your ear pushing your frail body into the water as his hold around your waist tightened. Eyes squeezed shut, you began to kick him off of you. But he was stronger, assertive, more needy. Gasping for air you felt the water seep into your lungs, nails digging into his skin as a warning to bring you back to the surface.  

However, once you were up, he would have more questions. Questions you didn’t have the heart to answer. But, Jungkook deserved to know the truth, even if it hurt. Because, deep down, your father’s abuse wasn’t the only reason you left. 

You didn’t remember much of that night thanks to the five whiskey shots that pulsed through your veins. Intoxicated your system till you became numb. Unaware of the dangers around you and vulnerable to those with bad intentions. Until it was too late. 

“Stop … please …” you whimpered, flinching at the feeling of his tongue on your breast. Parted lips leaving a trail of wet kisses down your stomach, wrists red from his tight hold as your arms stayed pinned over your head. But your cries for help were as worthless as the consent he never got. 

Until the door slammed open and Jungkook’s irate gaze saw your lifeless body buried under the weight of another man. No amount of restraint could hold him back. He was flammed with rage. 

“Y/n!” Jungkook growled, pushing the guy onto the floor as blood covered his fist. And, as the four walls caved in, your world fell apart. 

But, you could barely open your eyes, let alone get up. Too ashamed to move anyways and the migraine only made it worse. Searching for your top your heart ached with pain once you saw Jungkook’s hollow orbs swelled with tears as he wiped the blood off his face. He looked defeated, almost as unconscious as the man on the floor. Stepping over the body with one hand on his side he whimpered, biting down the pain in his ribs before covering you with his jacket. 

“We have to go.” he muttered, picking you up bridal style. 

“Koo, we can’t just leave him,” you yelled out, worried gaze searching his pale face. 

“It’s nothing fatal, he’ll be fine,” Jungkook scoffed, feeling the tightness in his throat as he glanced down at your saddened eyes.

Tension consumed the air. It was suffocating. 

“Jungkook, please slow down.” you exclaimed, tightening your hold on the seatbelt. And, although his glare was focused on the road, he couldn’t hear you. Too occupied by the burning pit in his stomach. It didn’t take long until the dashboard flashed warning signals as his speed reached 200 km/h. You were virtually flying. Yet, there was no end to his high. 

Reaching for his cold hand you tried to snap him out of it before the car suddenly stopped. 

“Oh, shit!” Jungkook yelled out, protecting you from the impact, as your body swung forward. 

Eyes squeezed shut, your hands trembled in fear. He hit someone. You hit someone. Fidgeting with your seatbelt you desperately tried to get out and help the crouched man on the ground. He wasn’t bleeding but his skin looked burnt. 

“Y/n!” Jungkook jerked you back, tightening his hold on your arm as he pressed on the pedal. 

“What are you doing? We have to go back!” you yelled with a furrowed gaze. 

“Jungkook!” you threw a few hits at his chest, reaching for the steering wheel as the car swerved along the bumpy road. 

“Enough!”

You couldn’t recognize him. He never raised his voice at you. Barely ever argued. But, now, Jungkook felt so distant. So cold. 

“Fine.” you whispered, digging your nails into your palms. It felt like a nightmare that you couldn’t wake up from. Stuck in a maze of despair, robbed of peace and the possibility that it was all in your head. That none of it was real. 

But it was. And, it would only get worse. 

Unlocking his front door, Jungkook stepped aside, letting you go first, hesitant with his touch. Furrowed gaze fixated on the ground, his head hung low, heavy with thoughts. Tucking onto the ankle straps of your heels you hissed out of frustration, vision blurring in and out of focus. 

“I can do it myself.” you scoffed, as he bent down to help. You didn’t mean to sound rude but there’s only so much one can endure before the sun sets. It was exhausting. 

“I know you can but let me,” he muttered softly.

And, for a moment there was silence. No words were exchanged. No one knew what to say. Feared that something else would go wrong. But your eyes, they were screaming. 

“Koo?” you whispered, caressing his cheek as he inched closer, burying his face into the warmth of your palm. 

“Y/n, I’m so sorry,” Jungkook blurted, gripping your dress. 

You weren’t his first love but you were his first love. And, he promised to always keep you safe, fight for the beating of your heart until the air was stripped away from his lungs. But, he failed. 

“I’m sorry for letting you get hurt” his voice was quiet, shaky. Glossy eyes looking up at your trembling lips. 

“Baby, you saved me.” you exclaimed softly, pulling him into your embrace, feeling the tension in his body slowly dissipate. 

“Nothing happened, right?” he whispered into your skin. 

“Nothing,” you said hushly. 

“Promise?” 

“Promise.” 

To be honest, you didn’t remember what happened. Only the scars remained witness, your body painted like a canvas with purple hues of abuse. But, nothing happened, right? 

“How do you know about the baby?” you questioned with an arched brow, trying your best to stay afloat as Jungkook inched closer. 

“Oh, y/n, you always underestimated the power of a small town. News here spreads faster than wildfire.” he grinned, resting his hands on your waist before your back hit the concrete. 

That night, when you layed on his chest and listened to his heartbeat, the puzzle pieces began to come together. Something did happen. Something that didn’t belong to Jungkook. You were raped and on very thin ice with your father who was ready to kick you out of the house if you didn’t oblige his threats. The ones that entailed getting rid of the baby, and clearing up the family name. But, you couldn’t bear to lose someone so close, so innocent. 

So, you didn’t. You hid the pregnancy from everyone. Of course, your mom knew but you didn’t want to risk getting her into trouble with your father, whose behaviour worsened with each fight. Completely unhinged, he couldn’t be stopped.

But, when he slammed you against the kitchen cabinet while you stood in front of your mother’s trembling body you finally felt it. The striking pain in your abdomen that travelled up your pelvis and into your back. The pooling of blood that rolled down your leg, marking your clothes with the loss of your baby. And every day since then, you wondered. Wondered what life would feel like without the constant longing to be whole again. 

“And, hey, thanks for this,” Jungkook teased with a sly wink, parading the dove necklace Mr. Kim gifted you for your graduation. 

“Give it back Jungkook, this isn’t funny.” you snapped, reaching for his hand before his hold on your waist tightened, pulling you in. 

“You stole something from me, now it’s my turn,” he rasped against your ear, nibbling on the soft skin. Inches apart, his heavy gaze flickered down to your lips. 

“Hmm, I haven’t swam in a while but I think I can make the team, right captain?” Jungkook glanced up, searching your furrowed expression. 

Unfortunately, he did make the team. If you couldn’t tell already, he was a crowd favourite. Always managed to get what he wanted, even with minimal effort. Simply put, life just seemed to work out for Jungkook. 

So, when the team went on to win the Nationals your coach decided to splurge and take everyone out for the weekend. Nothing special. Just a trip to the next town over. He rented a bus, but if you had a ride you could just meet everyone there. Sadly, both your mom and Mr. Kim were busy with work and Taehyung closed the door on you when you asked, so that seemed like a hard pass.

“Damn, Mr. Lim couldn't wait till sunrise?” your friend teased as the two of you waited by the school entrance. It was just shy of 7 am, but the sky was grey and foggy. 

“That's what I'm saying. I couldn't even sleep yesterday,” you scoffed, feeling the puffiness around your eyes. Something about the little getaway fueled your nervous system to stay alert the whole night. Was it excitement? Fear?Anxiousness? Only time will tell. 

“It's fine, in about 5 minutes we should already be hitting the road. And, hey, I brought the book you asked for,” she exclaimed, digging through her bag. 

“Nice! Fair warning though, I will be taking my beauty slumber as soon as we get on or else I might just die,” the two of you chuckled before collecting your stuff noticing the bus turn into the school parking lot. 

Heading up the stairs you were welcomed by an older gentleman. 

“Hel-” his words were cut off by the shouting outside. 

“Y/n!” 

“Sorry, could you excuse me for a second?” you giggled awkwardly, turning back to see who was making all that noise.

“Y/n, get in. I'll drive.” Jungkook urged with no hesitation, patting the passenger seat. 

“That's not necessary,” you scoffed, arms crossed over your chest. 

“That wasn't a question.” a sly grin covered his face. 

Parking his Mercedes in front of the bus, you looked back at the old man who was busy checking in the other students to notice Jungkook’s stubborn act. Well, shit. 

“Fine.” you muttered, ushering him to open the trunk.

As promised, you fell asleep almost immediately, suppressing the daunting feeling inside your chest. Jungkook didn’t mind, and kept as quiet as possible, reclining your seat before covering you with his jacket. It was better that the two of you didn’t speak. This gave him the perfect opportunity to look at you without being threatened. 

The drive was supposedly only 4 hours, but the rain lengthened the process. 

“Hhmm?” you flinched from the sound of hail hitting the glass window. 

“Sleep well?” Jungkook whispered, glancing at your drowsy eyes. 

“Yeah,” you muttered, stretching your back. 

“Are you hungry? We will have to stop at a motel, it’s too dangerous to drive.” 

“Alright. Let me just text Yuri then,” you said, unzipping your bag. 

“No need, I already let Mr. Lim know,” he winked, pulling into the parking lot. 

Mother Nature was pissed and decided to take it out on all of us. So, it wasn’t long until the two of you were drenched from head to toe. 

“Quickly, let’s go!” Jungkook exclaimed, grabbing your hand before locking the car. 

The place wasn’t brand new, per se, but it served its purpose. As soon as you walked in, you were welcomed by what could only be described as a parade of taxidermy deer heads mounted onto the wall with a complimentary coffee station by the corner. 

“I'll be right with you!” a female voice echoed from the back room. 

Glancing at the water dripping down your face Jungkook chuckled, pulling you in to wipe the excess with his sleeve. 

“You okay?” he hummed, levelling his head until your eyes met. 

“Cold,” you muttered, nibbling on your lip before turning him back towards the front desk. 

“Right, so sorry for the wait. What can I do for you, dear?” an older woman exclaimed with a soft smile. 

“Oh, no worries at all! We’re just looking for a room for the night,” Jungkook explained, pulling out his wallet. 

“Of course! Are you two a couple by any chance?” she giggled, dimples popping out on both cheeks as your mouth dropped. 

“Oh, n-” you scoffed before his glare pierced through you. 

“Shhh, let her finish, love,” 

“Well, it’s just that Saturdays are usually our couple specials. You get a 30% discount!” she clapped, admiring what you assumed she thought to be the epitome of young love standing in front of her. 

“Lucky us, then,” Jungkook clapped as well, inching your stiff body closer to make it more believable.

“Go us!” you smiled awkwardly, patting his chest before whispering something in his ear. Don’t get too excited. 

Placing a gentle peck on your forehead he grabbed the bags, following the sweet lady towards your room. 

“Alrighty, here it is! If you need anything I’m just a call away.” 

“Thank you!” the two of you said in unison, unlocking the door. 

One bed. 

“So, how is it?” Jungkook asked, laying out his jacket on the cabinet to dry. 

“You’re sleeping on the floor.” a teasing chuckle escaped your parted lips. 

“The rain will stop soon. I doubt we’ll even need the bed,” he said, running his fingers through his hair. 

“What? We wasted all that money for nothing?”  

“Well, first of all, I paid. And, we got a discount, remember?” 

“I'm sorry. I'll pay you back,” your gaze lowered from the sudden guilt, fingers fidgeting with your rings. 

“Are you kidding? I would pay triple to spend more time with you,” his tone was genuine, pupils dilated at your timid state. 

“Jungkook,” you whispered. 

“If only you knew how much I missed it,” he tilted his head back on the wall, nibbling on his lip ring. 

“What?” 

“Hearing you say my name,”

“I thought we hated each other,” you muttered, folding your hands over your chest.

“You did. I just loved the thrill of it,” 

You would be lying if you said that you didn’t miss it too. In hindsight, your feelings were always suppressed but obvious to the naked eye. To his eyes. However, just because you miss something, doesn’t mean you have to go back. Sometimes, the door is better off closed. Hidden deep in your subconscious mind, buried under a pile of broken promises. 

“I’m going to shower.” you blurted in a hurry, walking past him to avoid the thoughts running through your head. 

The water was cold no matter which way the faucet turned, so you had to be quick unless catching hypothermia was on the list of things Mr. Lim wanted you to experience over this trip. If so, then you were ahead of the game. 

Wrapping yourself with a towel you washed off your makeup, combing your hair with a detangling brush before getting startled by the swinging of the door, hitting your side. 

“Hey! I wasn’t done.” 

“Sorry, it’s cold,” Jungkook whined, welcoming himself in. 

“Did you try putting on a shirt?” you scoffed, eyeing his naked chest before his furrowed gaze caught you red-handed. 

“It’s wet, smartass. And, I didn’t want to put new clothes on before showering.” 

“Well, go stand over there and face the wall,”

“Are you shy?” he teased, leaning on the counter. 

“Well, I’m not comfortable.” you hissed, tightening the fabric around your body. 

“I’ve seen you naked plenty of times, y/n,” Jungkook grinned, eyes squeezed shut as if reminiscing the good old days. 

“You don’t have to remind me. I'll be taking that sin to the grave,” 

But it was too late. Lips inches apart, your chest heaved up from the intensity of his heavy gaze, eyeing your form from top to bottom. Tilting your chin with his fingers, he leaned closer. 

“We can’t,” you blurted, hands hovering over his chest. 

“No?” he glanced at your scattering eyes, pressing your palm against his burning skin. 

“What about Soojin?” 

“What about her?” 

“Seems like you guys were hitting it off pretty well,” you hissed, looking past his glare. 

“Meh … not my type,” Jungkook scoffed, eyes flickering down your lips.

“Oh, really?” 

“Why? Was y/n jealous?” he said with a sly grin, tracing his fingers up your thigh. 

“Soojin, is not your type? Ha! Hard to believe when she was all over you a few days ago.” your tone was low, annoyed at the whole thing. You were jealous. Fine. Whatever. Moving right along. 

“Hmm, is that so? Then what does that say about us? If I leave a trail of kisses down your neck, does that mean you're my type?” he whispered in your ear, pulling your body onto the counter before finding himself between your legs. 

“I'm not your type,” you chuckled, ignoring the obvious tension. 

“I could've been a dad by now and you're questioning if you're my type? Really?” Jungkook teased, resting his forehead on yours.  

“Jungkook, the baby wasn’t yours.” you said firmly, palms holding his face to make sure he was paying attention. 

“But, it was yours. And, what’s yours is mine. Isn’t that right?” he winked, fingers intertwined with yours. Then it happened. The long-awaited kiss. And, although you knew this wasn’t the best of your decisions, you didn’t mind revisiting this door, at least for the time being.

Until that night. The night in the forest. When a locked door was the only thing separating you and Jungkook. 

“Call him. Let's see if he actually cares,” you could see the grin smear across the man’s masked face, as your blood-shot eyes swelled with tears. 

Hands tied behind your back, you watched him press the call button, turning the phone towards you before resting his knife right under your chin. 

“Jungkook!” you cried out with a shaky voice.

Ring Ring 

“Oh, shit, where’s my phone,” Jungkook exclaimed, patting his pockets before reaching for the glove compartment. 

“What the fuck?”

His eyes widened. It was you. Rather, snapshots of you. One’s that he had no recollection of taking. But, they looked strange. As if you also weren’t aware of them being captured. 

Call from 647-568-0349. Call from y/n-ie❤️ 

An automated voice broadcasted through the speaker system set up in his garage.

“Y/n?” Jungkook yelled out, bolting towards the locked door. 

“Jungkook … please …” you whimpered, feeling the tip of the knife poke into your skin as your chest heaved up.   

“What the fuck? Why won’t it open?” Jungkook growled, fidgeting with the knob before banging on the wooden door. But, no one was home. 

“Please … please … pick up.”

Running back into his car, he turned on the engine, scattering eyes looking back at the empty driveway until the garage door began closing on its own. 

And within seconds, he was trapped. No way in or out. But, the engine was still on, running inside the confined space. Gaseous fumes slowly intoxicating the air he was forced to breathe. 

“Fucking hell.” Jungkook coughed, covering his mouth with the sleeve of his hoodie. 

“Please …” you kept trying, hoping to hear his sweet voice on the other line. Completely naive to the carbon monoxide that was now spreading through his lungs. 

“Help!” he cried out, feeling the tightness in his throat. 

“Jungk-” you gasped, widened eyes glaring back at the masked man. 

“Tsk … what a shame.” he sneered, ending the call abruptly before piercing through the phone.

“Oh, angel, it’s okay. We can wait if you wish. Hopefully, his lungs don’t collapse,” he rasped against your hair, cold touch sending shivers down your back as you felt your heart sink.

[rippersz]

𝑷𝒖𝒏𝒊𝒔𝒉𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕

✩.･:｡≻───── ⋆♡⋆ ─────.•:｡✩

✩.･:｡≻───── ⋆♡⋆ ─────.•:｡✩

(A Jan Stevens x Fem!Reader ~3.3K Word Oneshot) (NSFW: Daddy kink; Bondage; Degradation; Slight corruption kink; Lewd language; Cock-warming; Orgasm-denial) (MINORS DNI)

✩.･:｡≻───── ⋆♡⋆ ─────.•:｡✩

She’s just… sitting there. Keeping her eyes on her documents and writing for so long you believe she’s slipped into some sort of workaholic coma.

Not even bothering to look up. Not even bothering to meet your mean frustrated glare.

“Did I say you could stop?”

Instantly you try to backchat, shooting for a mocking tone as you struggle against the binds holding you in place.

“DmPh M MpH yMPh GHmPhg tMpH?”

“I don’t speak ‘cloth gag’, darling. Try again.”

But you’re too wound up to listen, so you huff and roll your eyes and look down at your predicament.

If anyone came in, they’d be shocked and horrified and probably also very turned on by the sight.

Of you on your knees. In front of Jan Stevens’s desk. Legs spread. Beautiful red rope twirling around your skin, creating pretty boxy diamond designs before sliding back to bind your hands together behind you. Nude. And blushing. With a dark rolled up cloth tied around your head, tucked in between your lips, silencing your sass. And the magnum opus of Jan Stevens’s erotic design, the very thing that’s keeping you sitting there, swirling in and out of lust and irritation, the thing one’s eye is drawn to instantly: a thick silicone toy between your legs. Suctioned cupped to the wooden floor. Tall and inhuman, with a flared base and a large head and a big shaft and a good amount of lubricant and sex slicking the entire length of it. Making it shine in the dim light of Jan’s desk lamp.

It’s black, matching the eyeshadow of her makeup, and it’s annoying as the tip of it brushes over your clit, making you jolt.

You can’t escape it. Of course. That’s the entire point of her ‘lesson’. You’re forced to endure and take and be quiet while she gets her work done. Panting and sweating in the middle of the room, abdominal muscles clenching nearly painfully, thighs burning with the spread, cunt stretched and aching for some real action. Minding your own business and searching for a climax the two of you know you’ll never get.

That’s why she likes this game so much. Sitting there in her chair, smirking to herself whenever you let out a particularly pained whimper. Always trying to get her attention but never succeeding unless you’ve gone against the rules and stopped.

Which you have.

Which is what you’re doing right now - hovering above the fucking thing while you catch your breath and curse her with your eyes. She can feel you looking, but she doesn’t give you the satisfaction of her attention. Or her praise. Or her degradation. Or anything at all! It’s maddening! It’s torture.

And it’s pissing you off.

“Jan!” You try to bark at her, struggling more in your bindings, but it only comes out as a muffled “Hmpn!”

She doesn’t respond.

If you had the strength and energy, you’d get up. But you can’t. You’re tired and dripping sweat and the situation is so erotic that you wish you had some extra stimulation to send you over the edge. Having a cock in you isn’t enough. You need her hands, her pointed touch, her lips, her breath, her words.

You need Jan Stevens.

“Continue,” she says airily, distracted and uninterested and wholly engrossed in her work.

Oh damn you Jan Stevens.

You huff, roll your eyes, and after a minute of weighing the scales, finally sink down onto the toy again.

It’s pure bliss. And it feels good. And she knows that. She knows you like being filled up, feeling heavy with the pressure that spreads through your abdomen as the fake cock pushes into you. And she knows you won’t complain. Not really. Not when you enjoy how degrading it feels to slowly fuck yourself in a means so controlled. This is her design. She sits at her desk, yes, but she controls your pleasure.

“Faster.”

Just like that.

A growl bubbles up from your throat but you listen to her anyway - and your hips flex while you reach the base of the toy and grind your clit down against the silicone. It’s a soft stimulation, not nearly enough to make you cum, and it only frustrates you further. But you are nothing if not obedient, despite your irritation, so you roll your eyes and give her what she wants and fuck yourself faster. Lifting your hips and letting them fall while your muscles clench and relax. It’s a shame the head of the toy only barely brushes against that wonderfully pleasurable spot inside you. If you could angle yourself differently, and weren’t bound, it would sit right against it and make you see stars; but with the way your thighs are spread, all you can do is bounce.

It’s amusing to Jan Stevens - who continues her writing as soon as you resume your play. You notice the way her lip twitches in the light of her lamp. She’s beautiful from that angle. A cruel mistress. You want to crawl into her lap and demand kisses, but you were bad earlier. Touching what isn’t yours without even asking for permission… it was stupid to think you wouldn’t get caught. Jan has a sixth sense for nearly all things regarding you. It’s why security measures are put in place for times like these - times in which your mind is a little fuzzy and your body isn’t your own. The stop light check wouldn’t work here, not in earnest, so you decided on something a bit more abstract. If the discomfort got too strong, you’d hum a little jingle. She’s hard at work, yes, but she’s still listening. Always keeping half of her mind and heart open for you.

It’s a comforting thought.

It’s why you’re willing to endure.

“Faster.”

A whimper tumbles from your chest. The ache feels heavenly but going faster won’t get you anywhere. It only makes you warmer, hotter, more desperate for more pleasure.

But you like seeing her proud.

So you continue. Breasts bouncing with vigor and clenched hands falling open while your body moves at the sound of her commands. You go down to the base and don’t allow yourself to linger, instantly pulling up and using short fast thrusts to go down again. And up again. And down. And up. And god- it does feel good. So good. So- fuck.

“Hnh- hnh- hmmph-,” the noises are endless, forced out from your diaphragm while the toy just grazes the source of your pleasure - never hitting it in the way you want. Never making your body shiver, never making you double over and keen and pant and thrust your hips in the way you know you can when Jan is fucking you.

When her breath is hot at your neck and her hands are gripping your waist and her tongue is licking at your skin lazily. Lavishing you in her version of love as she moans into your ear and makes you whine around her fingers. Never fucking you quickly. Never giving you the rapture you truly desire. Always on edge, always cumming with permission, always a slow build and a deep bone-shaking fall. It’s a nice feeling, but you desire more. You are greedy for her true passion. You always have been.

“Stop.”

You stop. Your thighs shake. Your cunt clenches, tightening around the toy’s shaft. Slow and pleasurable. Your body’s way of trying to milk the faux-cock of any essence it can give you. Of any warmth.

The sound of a creaking chair has you looking up, and you watch with a fierce blooming hope as Jan Stevens slowly rises from behind her desk. The tips of her fingers press against the dark wood before she’s taking them away and gently dragging them along the edge - making your eyes run to the sensual sway of her body. Admiring with as much passion as you can while she takes her sweet time in getting to your side. Heels clicking slowly. Long legs oscillating with the small side to side of her hips. She looks glorious. Strong. Like your ending world and your burgeoning life. All wavy blonde hair and smokey eyes and rose red lips. Beautiful and evil and sexy and towering and dear gods you want her with a vicious hunger.

And you can tell she knows this by the shadowed look in her blue eyes. Full of a fiery lust and desire all her own. All for you. Looking at you like you’re nothing and everything all at once. Like you’re the answer to every question she’s ever had. And you watch as she kneels in front of you, pressing one knee to the floor and leaning on her other leg. It stretches the fabric of her skirt, but she doesn’t seem to care. All she’s interested in is you.

You, who looks at her with an endless amount of hope. So much of it you can see the way her lips part into a sweet proud placating smile as soon as her face lines up with yours.

You stare at each other until Jan tilts her head - and your chest heaves with a small husky whine. She’s proud of the sound; of the lust she’s inspired in you, and takes that time to drag her gaze over your body. Sweating, shivering, wrapped up like a present for her, hovering over a cock that’s far too big for you. Barely able to lift yourself off of it without collapsing down on it again. Sitting there even while the silence builds, looking at her like she can give you all you’ve ever wanted, cunt clenching around something that can’t fulfill you properly.

“You deserve this darling,” is the small coo that falls from her tantalizing red lips. “A punishment is always due for disobedience.” And then a pale hand is lifting from her lap to reach up and cup your jaw. You press into her hold, delighting in the slightly clammy feeling of her soft skin. It makes her expression soften. “You know that, don’t you?” High pitched and child-like, she mocks you.

And you want to say no. You want to demand that she give you the pleasure you so desperately want. But instead, just to appease (and gain her favor), you nod. Your eyes are brimming with frustration and desperation and a hint of sadness and fury and an overwhelming amount of lust for her - but still you nod. And Jan is delighted by that. Her eyes roam over your face, still held in her palm, before she’s letting her eyes linger along the length of your body. Over your breasts, your thighs, the pouch of your tummy, the red of the binding ropes, and finally - the heaven between your legs, shadowed by your bodies, holding her treasure. It sparks a streak of deep sadism in your lover, and she doesn’t hesitate to show you that.

“Mmm yes. Taking cock like a good girl, aren’t you?”

Her sudden low purr, warm and full of praise, makes your hips jolt. Skin goosebumped with surprise, you swallow a keen that begs to fall from your mouth. Yes, you want to say, Yes yes yes taking cock like a good girl for you Jan. But you’re gagged and you’re dumb and you can’t. So you wiggle your hips instead, cunt aching for release and clit twitching with desire. So hot and needy-

“Oh look at you,” Jan whispers, eyeing yourself like a bidder at an auction - greedy and intrigued. Utterly fascinated with your body’s responses to her words. “Just a bit of praise is all it takes hm? That’s all you need, little one?” And when you feel your mind melt, when you notice the retorts die on your tongue, your hold over yourself loosens - and your legs quiver as you go down again. A small gasp falls from Jan’s mouth, quickly morphing into a moan as she watches you close your eyes. “That’s a good pet. See?” Her tongue darts out to lick at her lips. “Not so bad, darling…”

Yeah, you think briefly to yourself, not bad. Not bad. So good, actually. Feels- hng- yes- good.

Jan leans closer. Until her mouth is lined up to the shell of your ear and her breath pours over the side of your face. Cascading down your sensitive neck. Teasing and predatory. She’s enjoying her control. She craves more.

“All you want is this, don’t you?” Your back arches, mind molding itself to her words. “All you want is me.” There’s no doubt. “All you want is my pleasure. To please me. Am I wrong?” She asks, faking the genuine interest in her question, knowing that you’ll shake your head and moan a soft ‘mmph-mmph.’ Her smile presses to your ear. “No. Of course not, darling. I’m never wrong. I always know what’s good for you. Don’t I?” But you’re too far gone to respond. Too obsessed with the way the cock presses into you - and it doesn’t even matter if it doesn’t hit that delicious little spot - it still feels nice. Still feels wonderful. Still could get you there if only Jan stays-

“HNGH!” Your eyes fly open, wide and watery and a little fearful of the sharp feeling that shoots from one side of your chest to the rest of your body.

You don’t even have to look down to know that Jan’s arm has wandered, and her hands have moved. From your jaw to her lap, and the other from her lap to your chest - evil in its path as two nail-polished fingertips wrap around your nipple and twist. Pulling slightly, moving until the skin folds and grows taught and you’re letting out a small screech from the back of your throat - staring at her like she’s just done something horrible.

But she hasn’t. Of course. She knows you.

Your cunt still clenches around the toy. Your clit still aches. Your body still thrums. Wet and desperate, you go a bit faster as she takes her hand away and growls:

“Don’t. I.”

You can’t even remember the question.

Doesn’t matter.

You nod anyway, and go ‘mhm! mhm!’ from behind your gag, nodding and agreeing - and then closing your eyes again, swiftly clawed over by the waves of euphoria that hit you whenever your thighs touch the floor and your pussy touches the base of the faux-cock.

Jan smiles.

“I know darling, I know. I’m so cruel, aren’t I?” She coos, tilting her head to the other side to watch your body move as you take her toy over and over and over again. “Does Daddy’s cock feel good, pretty girl? Hmm?” Her words slow down - affected by the entrancing show you’re giving her. “I know how much you like being filled,” Jan sighs, staring off into space as though she’s thinking, “so I just had to choose one of the largest ones. You understand, don’t you?” At this point, she knows you’re past the threshold of responding. Only able to take the words and convert them into sensation, dedicating your desire to her speech as your hands curl behind your back and your neck slowly falls to the side.

Yes. Yes feels good. Yes, thank you. Yes-

“Say ‘thank you’ Daddy.”

Oh GOD.

Your eyes flutter open, brows furrowed with the weight of your ecstasy while you meet her gaze. She smiles, sharp and clever. Still kneeling by your side, not touching you with anything but her accented voice and her gorgeous words and the small buzz of her proximity. So close that if you leaned forward, you could feel her.

“Say it.” Jan whispers. You watch her lips move. “Thank me for your punishment.”

“Hmph hm fhph mphu pnhmnt,” you speak meekly through the gag, blushing instantly at the small mewl that melodies your words. She knows what you’ve said of course, but that doesn’t stop her from putting on a fake pout and humming in disappointment.

“I didn’t understand that, little one. Can you repeat yourself, please?”

Your eyes turn wide and pleading, showing the fact that you’ve already had enough of her teasing and your attention is being taken away from your pleasure and you need to get back to being praised until the point of utter bliss-

But Jan Stevens doesn’t care.

“Now.” Her pout grows into a hard line and you whimper with the effort it takes to say your words again.

“Hmph hm fhph mphu pnhmnt!” You exclaim, hips twitching forward with frustration while you glare at her.

Red lips quirk up at the ends, pulling into a slow smile at your expense. Oh she loves this.

“My, how dirty,” Jan growls, her chest jumping with the smooth chuckle she lets out into the silence. “When did my little one hear those words?” Pale fingers go up to her heart, covering the expensive fabric of her shirt while she sucks in a sharp breath, eyes widening comically. “I never taught my darling how to say such depraved things. Where did you learn that, sweet girl?” You stay quiet and start moving your hips quickly again, sinking up and down on the toy while your muscles burn with the constant workout. “Hmm?” She shuffles closer - and then as quick as lightning, moves the hand from her shirt to the back of your head and fists your soft hair in her palm. Clenched between her fingers - before being tugged back. Making your neck snap back for her while she hovers over you and brushes red lips up against your ear. “Who taught you how to act like such a slut?” Jan hisses, teeth grazing your skin. “Who taught you how to pant like a bitch in heat?” There’s a pause while your eyes roll back into your head. “Because I don’t remember doing that, darling. I don’t remember corrupting you.” Then she pulls back, admires the flush of your skin and the sinful sounds that fill the room- of course coming from the wet slick of your cunt swallowing the toy. “Did Daddy do that?” She asks, pouting again. “Did Daddy ruin you with her cock? Hmm? Did Daddy fuck you so many times you became more whore than you did human? Is that it?”

It’s too many words. Too many good words. Too much pleasure and ache and need and lust and the way you can’t stop whining for her, your tongue pressing to the gag without thought, your throat and your body and your lungs and your thighs working over time, trying to get the point across that you need her- you need her so bad-

“Oh look at you,” Jan moans.

“Pathetic.”

And with a speed you can’t even comprehend, as mushy-brained and soft as you are, the chill of the room comes floating back to your body - hitting the front of you with a force that makes you shiver and release a loud, needy noise to try and get your lover’s attention. But she’s the cause of the problem. She’s stood up, taken one last look at you down her nose, and click-clacked her way back to her desk. Leaving you wet, blushing, staring after her with quivering lips and an abdomen that’s exhausted from the constant clenching and unclenching. Utterly speechless and a little confused and worried that she’s just going to keep you like this. But she won’t. She won’t. She’s just going over to grab her jersey and then she’ll collect you and you’ll walk back to the warmth of your bedroom and you’ll both drown in the passion you have for each other-

“Stop looking at me like that. Resume.” And her hand waves out flippantly while she takes a seat back into the rolly-chair behind her desk. And returns to her work.

Blonde hair lit up by the desklamp. Hunched over papers with a pen quickly scooped up into her hand. Silence again in the room.

And then she’s just… sitting there. Keeping her eyes on her documents and continuing her writing like nothing ever fucking happened.

Oh damn you Jan Stevens.

✩.･:｡≻───── ⋆♡⋆ ─────.•:｡✩

Grins so widely. - Rip x

✩.･:｡≻───── ⋆♡⋆ ─────.•:｡✩

[crowleysgirl67]

Rescuing Romance

Author: @crowleysgirl67

Word Count: 661

Parings/Characters: Reader, Bobby, Buck, Hen, Chim, Maddie, 

Warnings: show warnings, broken bones, 

A/N: Thanks for reading!  

“9-1-1. What’s your emergency?”  

“I need fire and rescue and a couple of ambulances to 1515 Vista view court the medical tower. I’m currently hanging upside down by my leg on the twelve floor stairwell.”

“Ok ma’am can you tell me your name?”   

“It’s (Y/N) (Y/L/N). I’m a doctor, we had a patient have a psychotic break. Tried to throw me over the railing. I managed to wedge my leg in the bars. Definitely broke it but at least I'm not dead yet.”

“Ok (Y/N), I’m Maddie. Helps on the way. Where is the patient now?”

“I gave him a sedative right as he got me over the railing. I cant see him exactly but I’m pretty sure he was by the stairs when the sedative took effect. He might be on the landing on the floor below.”

“Alright. Are you hurt anywhere else?”

“I don’t think so. I’m sure I’ll find out when the adrenaline stops.” 

“They’re arriving on scene now.”

Maddie stayed on the line with you until they arrived.

“LAFD; How’re you doin ma’am?” 

“Oh ya know, hanging in there.” you heard one of them fail to stifle a laugh “I’m Dr. (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

“(Y/N) is it? I’m Bobby, we’re gonna get you out of there.”

“Cool, I’ve been here probably 20 minutes. I feel like a damn bat.”

Another poorly disguised snicker happens above you as Bobby, who you assume is their Captain, gives orders. Soon enough you’re being carefully hauled up and attended to.  

“How’re you doin?” the lovely lady who introduced herself as Hen asked.

“Eh, been better. Got a bit of a headache and my legs killin me. Which is about to get worse ain’t it?” you studied their faces.

“Yeah, sorry we’ve got to set this to be able to splint it properly.” the other one, Chim looked at you apologetically.  

“We can give you something for the pain.” Hen offers.

You shake your head, “No. I don’t take narcotics unless absolutely necessary.”

“So you’re just gonna do this, no pain meds?” the young one, Bobby called him Buck, asks incredulously.   

“Yup” you laid back as Hen stabilized your hips and Chim braced to put your leg back into place.

“Ready? We’ll do this on three.” Chim started.

You nod, “Let’s do it.” you took a deep breath.

Chim pulled on your leg and you ground your nails into the palm of your hand as you released a hiss of air. It hurt like a bitch. They splinted your leg as Buck looked at you wide eyed.

“Say what ya gotta say.” you looked up at him as you relaxed your hand.

“We just set your leg! No pain meds and you didn’t even make a sound!” he stared at you like you had two heads.  

You let out a weak chuckle, “Not my first rodeo.”

They loaded you onto the stretcher while Buck hovered asking all sorts of questions.

“Buck.” Bobby started. “Leave her alone and help with this gear.”

“Right uh sorry Cap.” he grimaced and began to gather gear to take down. 

 “I’m sorry, he can be a little enthusiastic.” Bobby addressed you.

“He’s alright, I don't mind. How's my patient?” 

“He’ll be fine, possible concussion but we’ve already handed him off to the ER downstairs.”

You nodded, “Well thank you for the rescue Captain I appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome,” he nodded. He looked like he wanted to say more but didn’t want to intrude. 

You pulled a card from your pocket and scribbled your number on it before handing it to him, “Give me a call if you want to talk. You look like you do, and we both know you don’t have time while on duty.”

He took the card looking bewildered as you were wheeled away. He looked down at it before stuffing it in his pocket. He did have questions, maybe he’d give you a call after shift. 

[nrdmssgs]

Sorry but I NEED a happy ending for Nikto and that reader. An AU, What If, whatever, but I need fluff and happiness

Pieces of them

Masterlist

Part 1

Pairing: Nikto x f reader Angst\comfort Reader goes KIA

Thank you @amongthe141 for encouraging me for writing more for this guy, thank you to a very dear @atenceladusiaawfytbwb for reminding me about this story. @iwanncry @bogboyfriendbreadslice @sinner-sinta loves, sorry for bothering you, but just in case, you wanted a happy ending - here it is.

"Are you out or not? I don't have all night!" She laughs.

Nikto doesn't like it when she laughs - it feels as if someone tickles him from the inside.

"Dumb ritual," he mutters, taking a step outside and facing dark night skies.

"Anything, I come up with is dumb, of course." Her voice is calm and unbothered by his commentaries. "Now tell me, which one do you see?"

He lifts his head. Usually he manages to recognize two, or at best three, constellations. But today he is almost going blind from the brightness of the myriad stars. They are so large that it seems that he can reach some of them with his hand.

Niktos breath catches in his throat. Why didn't he notice this before? Why didn't he see all these stars hovering right above his head? The night sky became so wildly mesmerizing, since...

"Hello, it seems you are trying to reach me, while I'm deployed. Leave your message, and I'll call back after an ungodly amount of sleep, hot shower and a few decent meals. Bye!"

He winces. Just recently, she called him every evening and forced him to go outside before bed and tell her at least two constellations that he could see above his head. Recently. Or maybe it was a million years ago, in a past life? Or did this not happen at all? Maybe he made her up?

Nikto shakes his head. Her voice, pre-recorded for the inbox, is not a figment of his imagination. And this sky above is unusually bright, but still real. He raises his head, covers his mouth and howls in horror and pain.

***

The worst thing is that there's even no body left to bury. She was confirmed to be KIA, yet Nikto couldn't even say goodbye.

First he waited by her door. Like a dog on a leash. Scared and desperate. Like a beggar. Hopeless.

He wrote her, he wrote so much, but never got an answer. So Nikto ran away, not being able to spend one more night at her doorstep, waiting for nothing. Ever since, he was on the run, chasing the last traces of her. He barely slept or ate and just drove from one hospital to another, inspecting their list of deceived soldiers.

Nikto deserved that last goodbye. Even if her body was all deformed, even if there were just a few bones left - it was still better than chasing her pre-recorded voice every evening and suffocate himself to not howl at the moon.

His squadmates try to reach out to him, buts it's no use - Nikto ignores their calls and doesn't bother reading messages. He keeps chasing her ghost and that is all that matters.

Until one day he stumbles upon König himself at one of the hospitals. Nikto notices a printed list of names in his hand and pulls it harshly, almost tearing the paper apart.

"She's not there."

Nikto ignores Colonels words and goes through the list, quietly muttering names. Only to find out, that König is right.

A crumpled piece of paper flies into the wall, to the displeasure of the head nurse. The Colonel picks it up, carefully straightens it and places it back on the counter.

"We are not ok about her fate, just as you. We can search together, An-"

"Shut up! I'm not searching just for a squadmate, not trying to lighten my conscience! You don't know who she was! Even she didn't..." Nikto stops himself in the middle of the sentence. He knows, It's wrong to vent his anger to the Colonel, who did nothing wrong in the first place.

***

König starts sending Nikto strange addresses: they switch from military hospitals to the organizations helping war survivors. The search becomes much more complicated, because many people, who end up in such facilities, have no IDs. So Nikto has to visit each ward and have long talks with nurses.

It drains his last bits of energy, so when he hears 'we actually have someone fitting your description', he doesn't even react right away. Nikto nods automatically, stands up and stops only at the doors.

"Wait, there is someone?" He rushes back and nearly knocks the nurse over.

Grabbing her hands, he barely whispers 'please, let me see, just one glance, please' with his white, dry lips.

He expects to be escorted to the basement, where the morgue is usually located, but is taken to the common room. A few people slowly walk along it with absolutely lost faces. But Nikto doesn’t look at them - his gaze rests on the painfully familiar profile. Her face.

Eyes tired and faded. Her skin is pale, her hair is very short, and there is a long and voluminous scar on the head. Nikto notices that she is shaking.

“She’s cold. Do you have warmer clothes or a blanket here? I’ll pay for anything!” He turns and meets the sympathetic gaze of the nurse. Irritated, he knocks on the glass door. Several people turn to look at him, but she doesn't pay any attention.

"Sir, I'm afraid you don't quite understand the situation correctly. She experienced clinical death, woke up from a coma. These tremors are not from the cold." After these words, Nikto already feels his hands getting colder.

He begs the nurse to let them speak. "A minute, just a minute!" But she leads him away from the room.

"Sir, she needs to be prepared for any meeting. Meanwhile, we will need some documentary evidence of your affiliation. We have to protect our patients from any illegal encounters."

For a split second Nikto imagines, how long would it take him to push her to any room on their way and block the door, so he can run back. But he shakes his head, banishing the mental image.

He patiently listens and even writes down, what documents he has to provide. He covers his own mouth, when the voices inside line up in the choir, asking him to scream.

***

Nikto fights for a single chance to talk to her, as if his life depends on it: despite his anger, he contacts König, asks for a help with forging required papers, he takes his own meds religiously, fearing to harm her otherwise.

He counts minutes, till he can hold her hand, just make sure, it is really her. Alive.

When he is finally allowed to talk to her - the nurse asks Nikto to wait, while she makes sure, the patient is ready. He stands awkwardly in the doorway, as the nurse sits on the bed next to her and tells her something softly.

In a few minutes she nods and the nurse walks past Nikto. "No sudden moves, keep your voice down. She gets scared easily. There will be personnel right behind her door," she whispers and leaves them alone.

Nikto walks around the bed and finally sees her: a mere shadow of a warrior, an almost lifeless shell, curled up, hugging her knees. Words roll up in a lump in his throat, and he just descends on his knees, trying to meet her lost gaze.

At first, she hides her eyes, as if not looking at him would make him not existing in her world. Nikto cant believe, this is all that left of the smiling, lively, skillful amazing her. His hand raises to the huge, ugly scar on her head automatically, but she catches him and shakes her head in a silent plea.

"Of course. I-I`m sorry, I won't touch... Of course, I won't. I'm so sorry." His voice is just a tad louder than a whisper.

Feeling, that his voice is shaking, Nikto takes a deep breath and looks her in the eyes. He wants to tell her so much, every cell in his body begs to hold her, cover her with a blanket, warm her. But he knows better than to stress her with too much information or questions or contact. He's been reading days and nights now about her current state. That's why Nikto just sits before her, staring into her face.

She reaches out to his cheeks, and he wakes from his stupor.

"My face must be scary. I brought a mask, but they said, it might scare you even more." Nikto shows her the mask, but she pushes it away and rests her hands on his face. It's only when her fingers touch his skin - he realizes, his cheeks, chin and neck are wet with tears.

He tries to get a grip on himself, but her touch crushes the last bit of self-control, he had. Tears keep running down his face as she cups it with all the care of this world.

"They will come. They will come. They will come. They will come." At first, he doesn't make anything from the words, leaving her lips. He is so shocked by her tenderness, that he is afraid to move or talk back.

She brings him closer and closer, until she hugs Nikto, clinging to him desperately and repeating 'they will come'. Only when her face hides on his shoulder, Nikto masters a simple question.

"Who will come? You're waiting for someone?"

She keeps muttering the same mantra, but points at a bed drawer. Nikto hesitates for a few long minutes, not wanting to scare her off by a sudden movement.

He reaches out and opens the drawer, which appears to be full of... pieces of paper. He hugs her back with one hand and takes a handful of pieces with the other.

Several pieces of paper fall to the floor with a dry rustle. Nikto squints his eyes at the remaining pieces of paper and freezes. A star map. Torn into tiny pieces. Their nightly ritual has survived everything - even death.

Maybe she didn’t remember him, maybe she didn’t remember what exactly they did in the evenings, but this starry sky, even in the form of a map, remained with her as small pieces of hope. Pieces from which she assembled him and herself.

Nikto opens his palm, letting the remaining paper fall on the ground, and hugs her with both hands finally. He finally finds the right words for her.

"We've come for you, love."

[sunshinebingo]

@gwynrielweeksofficial Day 5 - Domestic Life

Synopsis: Gwyn finds comfort in the arms of Azriel after she has a nightmare.

Word Count: 800

Read on Ao3

Deep breath in through the nose. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6. Now out through the mouth. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6. Deep breath in through the nose. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6. Out through the mouth. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6.

The fog in her mind slowly dissipated. Gwyn heard the faint echoes of Azriel’s voice rising above the pounding of her heart.

Deep breath in. And out. Deep breath in. And out.

She registered his voice guiding her through it before she felt him close to her. She reached out a hand towards where she knew his was waiting, hesitant to touch her lest he made things worse. Azriel knew where her mind had brought her to. There was only one nightmare that could cause Gwyn to scream and beg the way she had been doing a few minutes ago. Her cries had been loud enough to travel through the walls that separated their respective bedrooms in the House of Wind.

Gwyn turned on her side and, with her eyes still closed, grabbed Azriel’s hand with both of hers. The familiar ridges of his scars and his voice reminding her to breathe slowly cleared her head until the phantom touch of rough hands on her body was completely gone.

“You are safe Gwyn,” his deep voice wrapped her and warmed her better than the thin blanket that half covered her.

Azriel brushed away the strands of hair that had escaped her bun and stuck to her sweaty forehead with his free hand before lowering it to her face to wipe away her tears.

“You are in the Night Court, in your bedroom in the House of Wind. You are safe.”

He was right. She wasn’t in that wretched kitchen nor with those monsters anymore. But it wasn’t so much the reminder of the place that she was currently in that reassured her the most. Gwyn couldn’t care less at this moment in what court or what house she was at. What meant the most to her was the person who was now with her. It was those scarred and infinitely gentle hands in hers and caressing her face. It was that voice that had pulled her out of her nightmare. It was his shadows that she knew, even with her eyes still closed, were swirling around her like a shield of darkness. It was that steady and comforting presence that had helped her then, and which was still here for her now.

“Azriel?”

He immediately moved closer at the sound of his name hesitantly coming out of her lips. It pained him to hear the remnants of fear in her voice.

“Can you hold me?” she asked even as she started gliding closer to him.

Azriel would do anything to help her and he obviously would gladly start with that. He pulled his hands away and wrapped his arms around her as he lied down and pulled her closer. Gwyn placed both of her hands on his chest, delighted for the fact that he was shirtless so that she could soak in the warmth radiating from his bare skin.

“Is there anything else I can do?”

She did not need anything else but him holding her. Nothing could make her feel better. Except maybe one thing.

“Hold me tighter,” she said, rubbing her nose on his skin and inhaling his unique scent.

Azriel tightened his arms around her and pulled her even closer.

“Tighter.”

He repeated the gesture. He didn’t stop, squeezing her tighter and tighter until the sound of her giggle pierced a hole in the heaviness that had been hovering in the air.

“Not too tight, Az. I don’t want to run out of air,” she said, her voice slightly muffled from her face being pressed against his chest.

Some of his shadows left the cocoon they had made around them to dance across her neck and shoulder. Azriel chuckled as he loosened a little of his strong hold on her.

The lingering fear from Gwyn’s nightmare vanished with the heavy sigh that she let out once Azriel figured out the perfect way to hold her.

“Just like that. Can you hold me a for moment?”

Azriel kissed the top of her head before resting his own there. “I will hold you for as long as you want me to.”

Gwyn smiled. Her nightmare might have shaken her but it did not matter. She was safe and she was not alone. Nothing could break her. And when she was in the arms of the Shadowsinger, nothing could scare her either.

[newwritergirl]

Starting over | Part 12

Masterlist

This is the new part of my TopGun fic. You can once again skip this part, if you don't like steamy filthy smut. There's no important plot, so you can wait for the next chapter. No problem!

MINORS DNI!!! This is pure smut!

Summary: The three have a steamy time in the shower. No plot, just smut!

Trigger warnings: pure smut! 18+, minors DNI! piv (wrap it before you tap it! this is fiction), some dirty talk

Word count: 2.2k +

A/N: Please let me know if my choice of words is wrong or embarassing, English is not my first language and this is my second smut writing and I want to encrease my writing constantly. Thanks for all the support!

Strong arms are enveloping y/n from behind. In the past it would have made her flinch, a man hovering above her always meant incoming pain or at least a threat. But nowadays it makes her whole body fill with a warmth, lets her shiver, pure tender electricity is spreading through her body.

“What are you doing, cupcake?” Jake graces the shell of her ear as he lowers his head to softly kiss her neck. His plump lips on her delicate neck make moan and wiggle in his arms.

“Jakey, it’s my turn to cook dinner for us, so hop under the shower, you’re smelling like jet fuel and sweat.” Y/n turns around and looks up at the blonde aviator who is still in his flying suit. To see her boyfriends in their flying suits or in their uniforms is always a sight for sore eyes. She absolutely adores them in their work attire.

“We thought you could join us in the shower. Let’s order some food later…” Jake hoists her up as if she weights nothing and sits the squealing woman on the kitchen counter. He opens her legs as wide as he can with her still wearing her pencil skirt. With a firm grip he grabs her delicate hips and nuzzles his head in the crook of her neck, softly sucking on her sensitive spot above her collarbone.

“Rooster is already waiting in the shower to get it warm for our girl.” He tells her between kisses and soft love bites.

“Two naked aviators all wet and soapy? Show me the way Lieutenant Commander Seresin.”

Her answer makes him grin devilishly. “That’s the answer I needed to hear. But first let’s get rid of this skirt and blouse of yours. As much as I like to see you in this sexy pencil skirt and the blouse, we need you naked…”

---

The shower spray feels like a warm blanket on her skin. She can’t help but let out a small whimper as she feels strong hands massaging the flowery shampoo into her hair, short nails scraping over her head occasionally. She buries her head into the warm and wet chest of the brunette aviator in front of her when Jake starts to wash out the foam which surrounded her silky hair. To be in the shower with both her boyfriends feels so intimate, the vulnerability of being naked wet and huddled into the space of the shower isn’t as intimidate as she feared. She feels so safe with Jake and Bradley.

Y/n starts stroking Bradley’s abs up and down and places soft kisses on his muscular chest. His heartrate picks up as the touch of her small hands nearing his already hard member. Behind the smaller woman Jake completes his task to wash his girlfriend’s hair. His hand now wandering down her neck and further down to the swell of her breasts. When his strong hands stroke over her sensitive nipples she shudders and buries her head once more into Bradley’s chest.

“Are you cold, baby?” Jake whispers into her ear “Should we make the water warmer?”

She can’t form a coherent sentence right now, the feeling of both aviators touching her naked and wet body almost too much for her. She looks up at Bradley when she lets her hands wander further down to cup his big cock, giving him a stroke with her hands. To steady himself he reaches out and grabs Jake’s shoulders and hisses as y/n starts to fist him a bit tighter. The blonde aviator enjoys the play of his partners in front of him. He’s still intrigued with their whole situation. He and Rooster love the same girl, not only sharing a house but sharing a bed, sharing the same love for this gorgeous woman in front of him. And still he doesn’t feel a whiff of jealousy, not even now when both of them are making out heavily. Actually watching the two is making his heart swell even more, well not only his heart. He’s just as hard as Rooster, nearly painfully hard and heavily aroused watching the small woman stroking Rooster’s remarkable cock. The same cock he tasted days ago.

After giving y/n’s nipples one last pinch he lets his hands wander down further. Her body is so warm because of the hot water of the shower. He needs to feel her, wants to feel her clenching on his fingers, hear her whimper when he strokes her sensitive clit. Jake presses his chest flush to the woman’s back to get better access to her sweet folds.

“Can I make you feel good, sweet girl? Can I get you ready for Bradley? I think he wants to feel you today, your tightness…” She leans her head on the broad chest behind her and closes her eyes as she feels Jake’s fingers stroking over her aroused folds. Her heart nearly stops when she suddenly feels Bradley’s mouth sucking her right nipple, his mustache scraping over her breast sends electricity through her body.

“You’re already so wet, baby.” The blonde aviator whispers into the woman’s ear as he teases her wet entrance. Without warning he inserts two fingers into y/n’s tight pussy. Her knees buckle at the intense feeling. Fortunately his other arm has a strong hold on her upper body and prevents her from tumbling down. To steady herself y/n reaches out and grabs the bulging biceps of the man in front of her, her nails digging into his flesh. Bradley enjoys the view of Jake fingering their girlfriend. With her eyes still closed she clearly savors the feeling of the blonde aviator’s fingers inside her.

“Jaaake…” Y/n shouts, her voice echoing in the big master bathroom. Jake takes her cry of pleasure as a confirmation to go a bit faster, his pointer and middle finger stretching her tight entrance further his thumb slowly rubbing circles over her swollen clit.

“You want to feel Bradley’s cock inside of you, baby? Look at him, how he enjoys your sexy view. Open your eyes, baby. Let him see your beautiful eyes.”

Y/n opens her eyes to see the brunette aviator pumping his raging cock, looking directly into her eyes. He bends down and captures her upper lip, softly sucking and biting it before his tongue requests entrance. They kiss grows passionately as Jake’s fingers still plunging into her soft folds, hitting her G-Spot occasionally. He feels her tighten and clenching around his fingers but before she has the chance to come on his digits he stops his actions. She was so close but he stops, her eyes fly open, her ass bumping into his crotch out of frustration.

“Nah nah nah, baby. I want you to come on Rooster’s cock. You ready to feel him?” Jake teasingly says, clearly pleased with y/n’s desperate reaction.

“Please, Bradley. I need you…” She grabs his cock in a firm painful hold, showing him how badly she needs him right now.

“So needy our girl. Come on, princess. Let me feel you. Want to feel how wet you are for me.” Bradly cups her ass with his hands and gives her the go to jump up on him. Jake supports her from behind and helps the smaller woman to hop onto the taller aviator in front of her. She locks her legs around Rooster’s hips, feeling his hard cock poking her lower belly. When he’s sure that she’s not in danger to fall down, he releases one hand from under her bum and grabs his big cock and slowly rubs the head up and down y/n’s aroused sex. She starts to rock back and forth, desperate to feel his member inside of her.

“Easy girl. We don’t want you to get hurt.” Jake tries to calm her down when he tightens his grip on her hips to steady her a bit more, afraid she would fall down with her rocking.

Bradley teases her entrance with the swollen head of his member and turns them both around so that her back is now at one of the tiled shower walls. When the cold tiles touch her back she lets out a squeal which turns instantly into a long moan when Bradley finally sinks into her. He gives her some time to adjust to his size. Her head falls onto his shoulder her mouth agape when small whimpers leaving her wet lips.

Jake takes a step forward to be nearer to his both partners, his painfully hard cock in one of his hands.

“Bradley, more. Please more.” She instructs between moans and whimpers. She wants to feel him completely inside her, like she felt Jake days ago. Rooster tightens his grip on her hips once more as he lets himself sink deeper into the woman in front of him. His eyes squeeze shut unable to hold the whine that leaves his throat. Warm water runs down his muscular back but all he can feel is the sensation of y/n clenching around his member. She feels so warm and tight and her small moans are driving him wild. He starts to thrust in a slow and steady rhythm, feeling Jake beside him stroking his back. Y/n’s legs tighten around him as he finds the right angle to thrust into her.

“You’re so big. Oh my God, please Bradley right there.” Y/n sputters as the brunette aviator hits the sensitive spot inside her. The cold tiles on her back with the warm water coming out of the shower head and the strong thrusts from Bradley are creating a mixture of explosive feelings. Her body starts to shudder and she gently bites into Bradley’s shoulder.

Jake sneaks one hand between both his partners and starts to fondle with y/n’s breasts, pinching and rolling her nipples with his fingers. His other hand furiously fisting his cock.

“Fuck y/n. You’re taking me so good. Oh Jesus…” Bradley picks up the pace, the sight of the young woman so aroused and nearly able to speak and his partner beside him stroking his cock and playing with the young woman’s sensitive nipples makes him feral.

“You look so sexy, y/n. I want so see you come, I want to see both of you come. Come for me.” Jake moans as his hand release y/n’s nipples, just to wander further down to touch her sensitive clit.

Her moans growing louder and she tries to bounce faster on Bradley’s cock. Over and over he hits her sweet spot, chasing his own orgasm relentlessly, but restrains himself a bit more. He wants to come with her, feeling her clenching on his cock, milking him while she shatters from her orgasm.

“Don’t stop, please don’t stop Bradley.” Y/n shouts as she feels her own orgasm not too far away. Her back arches away from the cold tiles when she starts to shudder. Her hips buck at the sensation of Bradley’s huge member inside of her and Jake’s hand circling her clit. She feels so full and stimulated. Bradley feels her clenching on him more, biting his shoulder so hard he’s sure it will leave a mark. But he doesn’t care, the only thing he wants is to make their girl feel good.

Y/n sees stars she feels the tight knot in her stomach exploding. Her vision grows white when the earth shattering orgasm hits her. She feels Bradley pumping into her, feeling his member switch his whole body shuddering but never loosen his grip on her hips. Jake comes with them, hitting Bradley’s thigh with his hot cum. He stops the gente circling around y/n’s clit as to not overstimulate her further.

Bradley nearly can’t catch his breath as he slowly comes down from his high. His heart is beating so fast in his chest like if he had run a marathon.  He feels the body of the woman in his arms go limp and with the help of Jake he sets her down on her feet. Her knees buckle and he cradles her small shaking body in his arms, kissing the top of her head.

Jake turns off the water which is already cold by now and hurries out of the shower to get towels for him and his partners but especially for y/n who seems to be out of it once more.

When he comes back, having a big fluffy towel in store, he sees his partner still cradling and holding up the limp body of the smaller woman.

“Let’s wrap her up in the towel and lay her down in your bed.” Bradley suggests a bit concerned that she once again is not really responsive.

---

Y/n’s eyes slowly flutter open as she feels herself being carried out of the bathroom. “Roo-y?”

“Hey, princess. You’re okay. Let’s rest a bit in Jakey’s bed okay? You fainted on us again.”

Bradley gently places her body on the soft mattress of the blonde pilot’s bed. When she feels the mattress dips beside her she instantly snuggles into the man laying down next to her.

“That’s so embarrassing. I’m sorry…” She hides her face in Bradley’s chest.

“Hey, look at me.” He tilts her head to look her in the eyes. “That’s not embarrassing. We’re just concerned when you pass out on us. Maybe we’re too eager, too intense or rough with you, I don’t know…”

“No, please… It was so earth shattering, so good like the first time. You two make me feel so good. Please never stop to make feel this way…” Y/n kisses the brunette pilot to make sure he knows how good she feels after having sex with them.

@djs8891

@megalony

@darksparklesficrecs

[sorceresssundries]

Gale sketches by @orangekittyenergy <3

CHAPTER 2 (of 2)

Link to chapter 1 here

Pairing: Gale x Fem Tav

Summary: Set post-game where Tav did not feature in Gale's troubles in Baldur's Gate. A whip-cracking, fedora wearing, Indiana Jones inspired mini-adventure - where Professor Dekarios is tempted out of the classroom, and on yet another perilous quest.

Warnings: THIS IS NSFW! *blares smut horn* Plot with smut. But, you have been warned.

Word Count: 3.9k

A/N: Just a bit of a fun based on the Gale as Indiana comparisons. Also, he looks like a young Harrison Ford, how could I not? This is not the stuff I'm used to writing! But it's been enjoyable and nice to try something new.

Elltavia’s senses were prickling again, whatever was buried in the remains of this temple was beating like a rotted heart, pulsing decay and corruption outwards through the forest. They were close to the cause, she could feel it. She just hoped whatever was the cause of the infection didn’t get to her before she could save her home.

Along the far wall of the room were four murals that stood out in a line. The once clean, carved scenes were eroded and time-beaten, but just about decipherable. 

The four images depicted monks in various states of torment. The first monk strained under the weight of a massive rock, muscles taut with effort as it pressed down upon him. The second monk, blood dripping from his hand and ears, was feverishly inscribing words upon a scroll, clearly in agony. In the third panel, a monk appeared submerged and drowning beneath a cascade of shimmering gold, his features twisted and bloated. 

The final tableau showed two figures, stripped bare, entwined in an act that should have been pleasurable. However, their expressions were ambiguous, dancing somewhere between ecstasy and agony. The knife suspended ominously above their heads left little doubt about their fate.

Underneath each carving was a word in an ancient language, which Gale was able to translate. 

STRENGTH. KNOWLEDGE. WEALTH. LUST

Hovering above the scenes of suffering was a much larger image of a monk in resplendent robes, his hands covering his eyes as he sat before a closed book as if to shield himself from an unbearable truth. The book sat on a carved pedestal, and shimmered with golden light. The lines of the monk’s robes flowed gracefully, dancing in a breeze that no longer existed. The expression of the hidden face was left to the imagination, but Gale’s imagination didn’t have to work very hard. The monk was shielding himself from whatever was written in that book. 

Gale‘s chest suddenly went tight, as though the orb that had once branded his skin and burned an aching, insatiable hunger within him was back. The ghost of a pain which would never truly leave him.  He couldn’t help but see himself in the image, as though it was a mocking interpretation of his great folly. 

Unlike this monk, when he was tempted, he had not been strong enough to cover his eyes. He had suffered the same torment as the other tortured souls. It wouldn't have seemed out of place to see a carving of a wizard with a dark orb branded upon his chest, bent over and crippled by unending pain and sharp regret. His hand once again absentmindedly moved to his chest.

“What is in that book, do you think?” Elltavia was started to get concerned by the faraway look in Gale’s eyes. She had not known him long, but she knew it was unlike him to be this quiet. Whether in a classroom, or on an adventure - he was a born teacher. He had the engaging, adaptable, patient, rare soul of someone who had collected knowledge like precious treasure, and all he seemed to ever want to do is share it. He was not made to be silent, and it worried her.

"Fortune and glory, Kidd." Gale continued to read the fragile inscriptions—warnings, death sentences, holy scriptures, and gold-tinted promises of doom for the unworthy. Yet, for those with the resolve to grasp it, an ultimate blessing. "Fortune and glory."

After more studying, Gale pressed his hand against an indent in the wall, and a rumbling echoed around them.

"I think we've found where the ritual would take place," he murmured.

The carved, ancient pedestal holding the book shown in the mural rose from the ground in the room’s centre, a half-decayed corpse resting against it, its mouldering hand still holding the book open, as if in a final, desperate grasp for whatever it contained. 

"That book should not be open." Gale could feel the power emanating from it, warping and stretching the weave of magic around it. This was no ordinary spellcraft; it was far beyond his capabilities. Once, he would have been desperate to grasp it, to drink the forbidden magic until it drowned him. A long time ago, It almost had.

The source of the blight was finally clear. The book had to be closed, or the rot would continue to spread, cursing the forest and luring as many as it could to this place. The book was a lure, a power to draw people here to be tested, indifferent to the fate it bestowed upon them. The burning ache of the sussur, which had been simmering under his skin, began to flare and bubble. His magic tingled in his bones, demanding to be used, to cast protection over him. His mind was flooded with the weave, and the agony of not being able to use it was overwhelming.

“Close the book!” He hissed through clenched teeth, doubled over in pain. 

Elltavia approached the book tentatively, with ranger’s care. The closer she got, the more Gale’s words became a far-away song, trailing distantly away from the fluttering pages. Each turn caused a soft rustle; leaves whispering secrets in a forest grove. It was the sound of her home, and it was calling to her. The book cast a gentle glow, soft as yellow moonlight. And with every intake of breath, she could swear the scent of pine mingled with the earthy perfume of petrichor sank deep, holding and soothing her. 

Surely within its pages lay the answers they were looking for. It called out to her with a sweetness that stirred her soul, a siren's song promising sanctuary. The glowing page was right there in front of her, she just had to read the inscription…

I am the lure in darkest gloom, A whispered hope, a flick'ring bloom. In greed-drenched shade, I bide my time, Thy greatest urge will feed my shrine.

What am I? A tempter, sly, In every soul, doth ever lie. Resist the call for but one hour, Prevail, and gain the worthy’s power

“Elltavia, NO!” 

And she burned.

It felt as though tendrils of flame were invading her through her nose, her mouth, sinking through her skin, licking the very bones of her. It was tugging at her, calling to her, scalding all the way through her. She was a woman aflame, and there was only one way to extinguish the fire. She needed Gale, and she needed him now. 

He rushed over, and managed to close the book - but not before catching a glimpse of the inscription within. As soon as he had read the words, the book and pedestal began to descend ominously back into the ground.

“Gale..” Elltavia’s voice was suddenly breathy and skin clammy as Gale grabbed hold of her and started to check her over. 

“It’s the test, Kidd.” He appraised her pupils to see that they were blown wide, her breathing heavy. The spell was undeniably affecting her, not just emotionally but physically too. Her skin glimmered with a light sheen of sweat. Were her lips fuller, even more inviting than before? Surely it was a trick of the light? The urge to press his own against them, to run his tongue along her bottom lip, was all-consuming.

He pulled away abruptly, almost harshly, startled by the intensity of his desire. He had anticipated challenges to his resolve, but not in this way. He had mentally prepared himself for his ambition, his hubris, his self-worth to be cut out and dissected in front of him, to once again have to pull himself back from the brink of his unending desperation to prove himself. It was his tragic flaw, it always would be. He had not prepared himself for this.

The atmosphere crackled with a potent mix of heat and something deeper, something elemental. Lust. It hung thick in the air, dense and suffocating. It wrapped around him like a lover’s embrace, seeping into the marrow of his bones. He was suddenly starving, and she was ripe and ready to be savoured. He remembered when she had bitten the apple from his desk. How her eyes had met his as she bit down, how the juice had trailed down from the side of her lips to her chin…

“It sai..said.” Elltavia had her arms wrapped around herself, as though trying to hold herself back, and Gale desperately wanted to unfurl them and spread her out on the ground like a map. There was priceless treasure to be discovered. He ached from not touching her.

“It said something about lure.. Temptation..” Her breathing was heavy and lust-soaked. “Resist for an hour.. And we’ll pass the test.”

An hour of this, he thought bleakly, he did not know how he would stop himself from devouring her.

“I have rope” she panted “In my pack. You should tie me up.”

His response to that was a low, feral groan which seemed to rumble from deep within his chest. “I don’t think bondage will help me out here, Kidd.”

Struggling against this overwhelming desire was futile; he was a weary child resisting the pull of the receding tide, or a final leaf clinging to its branch before the onslaught of autumn's chill. He was no match for her; he was a raft-bound castaway - and she was the oncoming tempest. 

Together they melted into a pool of tongue and hands, rushed and heavy. There was no softness or words of delicacy, no declarations or promises of what would come after. There was only urgency. There was only her and him and now. At the meet of their lips and the ripping of her shirt underneath his strong, tanned hands there was a rumbling noise which ripped around them and caused loose stone and dust to fall from the ceiling. The shock of it managed to distract them long enough to prise themselves away from each other. The second they pulled apart, the noise stopped. 

“An earthquake?” He questioned through rough panting, speaking out loud rather than to her in particular. He quickly moved to one of the far walls and ran his hands over it, feeling for any structural damage and waiting silently for an aftershock.

As soon as his fingers stroked the grooves in the stone, Elltavia was behind him. She pushed him against the wall, and pressed herself against his back, standing on her tiptoes to lick and bite at the nape of his neck. 

“Who cares?” She whined. Her hands made their way up the back of his shirt and she dragged her nails down his skin. The sound he made was sinful, and as soon as her tongue licked at the sweat trailing down his spine, the rumbling started again. This time they were both knocked backwards by the wall Gale was pressed against, as it started to straighten out and move towards them. 

“Fuck.” He groaned, on his back. He could barely think straight, all his focus and all his blood was currently gathered in hard desperation between his legs. Urging to be sank into the ranger panting on the floor next to him. 

She swung her leg round to mount herself on top of him, pinning him to the ground under her hips.

“Wait” he hissed through gritted teeth. She managed to stop herself from sucking on his bottom lip long enough to hear what he wanted to say, she desperately hoped it would be something filthy. Her restraint in her longing for his mouth didn’t stop her grinding her hips down against him. She gasped at how hard he was underneath her. To her shock, he grabbed her upper arms and managed, with difficulty, to push her off him and he sprang up and backed away from her with his arms out. 

“Listen, Kidd, when we give into our temptation, to our urge, it sets off the trap.” 

She tried to take in what he was saying, and she used her sharp, predator’s focus to survey the room. She had not previously noticed the heavy layer of dust which had settled on the holy ground. Bonedust. The bleak realisation sank in. This was all that was left of others who had been tested. The book was an incendiary, designed to spark simmering desire into a roaring flame. Resist it, or be crushed.

“I am your temptation?” She rasped. “Gale, of all the fucking things to desire?!” 

“You’re one to talk!” He snapped. The cord that felt wrapped around him was tightening in frustration. This woman was literally going to be the death of him. This stubborn, infuriating, smart-ass was how he was going to die. He wanted to take his whip out and coil the leather around her… 

“Fuck!” He said, turning around so he could no longer see her pouring out of her sweaty, ripped shirt. 

“The temptation is each other… right?” She breathed.

“Obviously.” 

“Then… then we can still.. Touch ourselves, can’t we?”

It was like pouring oil on a bonfire, the thought of her unbound and lost in her own touch, bringing herself to the brink of pleasure and plunging over a cliff of her own making was unbearable. He wanted to palm himself right there in front of her just from the thought of it. 

She didn’t wait for him to answer, her hand quickly found its way into her underwear and to where she needed it most. She was a writhing mess on the floor - but the walls did not move. 

He sank and crawled to her, and positioned himself over her, resting his forearms on the ground next to her shoulders, clenching his fists in frustration and caging her beneath him, but not touching her. He allowed one of his knees to push her thigh upwards, splaying her further apart. But he did not give her any further contact. He just held himself over her as she moaned and bucked her hips into her own hand. His gaze was as desperate and intense as any touch could be. Beads of sweat traced paths down his temple, falling onto her skin like liquid fire. Every inch of her felt alive, every nerve alight with anticipation. As he lowered his head, his breath danced against her neck, tantalisingly close yet never touching. His lips hovered, a mere whisper away, and she teetered on the edge of combustion.

“I’ve wanted you since you flashed your thigh at my desk.” His voice was almost unrecognisable, dark as sin itself. The lilt of his words caressing her skin. “I wanted to be that fruit on your tongue. The flesh on your lips.”  She gasped, but could not respond. Her eyes fluttered shut as she imagined how he would taste as he spilled herself down her throat in ecstasy. 

“Don’t you dare stop looking at me.” He growled.

Her eyes flashed open again to meet his, and his command would have sent her spiralling, but something was wrong. 

“I can’t.. It won’t…” She removed her hand in desperation, and it took every ounce of resilience he had not to grab hold of her wrist and drag her lust-soaked fingers between his teeth and roll his tongue against them. “It just makes it worse.” 

The walls were still at each end of the room, they had barely moved. The two of them were safe, maybe there was time to…

“Fuck it.” He said, and he lifted her robe and tore her underwear off her. Gods, the scent of her. He wanted to spend a whole day with his nose buried at the source of her divine, needy musk.

 He did not have a whole day, he had minutes at most. 

“Is this what you want?” He asked, shaking with the resolve it took to show her the decency she deserved.

“No” She responded, but before he could even attempt to pull himself away from her, she wrapped her powerful warrior's thighs around him and flipped them so he was beneath her. 

“This is what I want.” 

She turned round above him so her cunt was hovering over his face, just out of reach. This position gave her the chance to unbuckle his belt and finally get her hands where she wanted them. There was no time to undress him, to peel him out of his tight trousers the way she wanted to. This would have to do. He moaned beneath her as she finally freed him from his confinement, and without grace or hesitation - took the whole of him into her mouth. 

In response, he grabbed hold of her hips and pulled her down against his lips. Locking her tight against him, he groaned and pushed his tongue into her. The taste of her was technicolour.  He worked as quickly as he could to relieve the tight, coiling need which was squeezing the life out of them, but not quickly enough. 

The walls had pushed towards them quicker than he anticipated, and it wasn’t long until he felt the hard force of it suddenly pressing against his feet. 

Elltavia must have become aware at the same time he did, because her mouth was suddenly off him and she rolled away, completely disentangling them and stopping the movement of the walls. 

They were both slick with sweat, and with each other. 

“Get over to the far end. Now.” He snapped at her. The narrowing of the walls had now turned the large, circular room into a slim corridor. It would only take a couple more metres of movement and they would be crushed to dust. 

“Do not bark orders at me!” She retorted with a hiss. “That is really not helping the situation!” She retreated as far away as him as possible, pressed her thighs together, and put her hands over her ears so she couldn’t hear his heavy, laboured breathing.

The hour may as well have been a day. They faced away from each other, breaths heavy and skin slick with sweat. They had both tried to cover themselves back up with what little material had not been ripped. At this moment the threat of being crushed by the weight of an ancient temple wall seemed inconsequential compared to the overwhelming intensity of this moment. Gale thought that If this were to be his end, he would welcome it with open arms. At one point in his life, he had resigned himself to the fact he would die alone at the order of a pitiless Goddess. What a privilege it would be then, to die in the arms of a merciful one. In the arms of Elltavia Kidd’Alka. 

He thought of her as he faced the wall. He thought of her in every way except the one which had pushed its way to the front of his mind and coursed its way through his blood. He thought of her fierce loyalty to her home, how she had travelled far and risked her life. How she was blunt and forthcoming and how she refused to dull any of her bladed wit. He thought of the shimmering seasons of her eyes, of how long it must take her to braid her hair, how she has the wisdom of an elder and the bright laugh of a child. He thought of how much he wanted her to live, and how much he wanted to see her again. And suddenly, the urge simmered - it was there, but it no longer suffocated him. He could breathe. His lust had been mixed with something else, and the sweet combination had strengthened his resolve. He could do this. 

Elltavia thought of the forest. Of her home. Of the children who fell out of trees and laughed in the dirt that caught them. Of the people who had spent their lives telling stories and weaving tradition through play and prayer. Of the mothers who had fletched arrows with babes at their breast. She remembered the first time she summoned an animal, and how the swift spring bird had flitted between branches and sunbeams to settle upon her shoulder. She remembered the poor autumn fox which she had found dead from the spreading curse. She would beat this. She would return home, and she would show Gale the place they had saved together. Her blood cooled, her resolve steeled. She could do this. 

An hour passed in silence. The two of them focused and determined. Two people who ached enough to not touch each other. And it worked.

Suddenly, it was as though they had emerged from holding their breath in ice water. The walls rumbled and slowly retreated back to their stations. 

“Is it over?” Elltavia spoke quietly, too nervous to turn round or remove her hands from her ears. Her answer came when a strong, comforting hand placed itself on her shoulder and she didn’t burn from the touch. She let Gale turn her, and take the hands from her ears to kiss them. 

“Not for me'' He said gently, stroking her cheek and tucking a braid behind her ear.  Before he could kiss her properly, without magical kindling feeding his flame for her, the book reappeared. It fluttered once more, and settled on its final page.

“Is it safe?”

“I think so” He said, more calmly than he felt. “We passed the test.”

He made his way to where the soft glow welcomed him to read, and spoke the book’s final inscription aloud…

Behold, two souls of spirit true Live long - old magic rests in you. 

“If this is some bullshit about how the power was inside us all along, I'm going to be really annoyed.” Elltavia was still breathless, but relieved.

“Maybe…” He said thoughtfully, but from the book and the murals and tenacity of the ancient magic, Gale didn’t believe that was the case. There must be the mentioned ‘reward’ somewhere… But, he was not interested. Godly gifts he could live without. There were other things more worthy of his attention now. Other desires to fulfill. 

“What do we do about the book?” she asked, closing it and running her finger over the cover. “Will you take it to the Academy?”

“No. This belongs here. It’s as much a part of the forest as you are.” He turned to look at her, her bright eyes fierce, “You know what lies here now, you can tell your community - you can spread the story and let them become guardians of magic and knowledge. And this can stay here… closed.”

He bent down and kissed her, soft but purposeful. Full of the promise of things to come.

“You know, Kidd. Before you dropped by my lecture I was reading about this amulet…”

She entwined her fingers with his as they made their way back into the lush greenery of her vibrant forest home. “Sounds interesting professor, I take it the next adventure would also require you to bring along your whip?” 

“Oh, most definitely. I could give you another demonstration now if you’d like?”

Her bright laugh echoed through the trees as they walked into the distance, unaware of the ancient gift bestowed upon them by the temple in the forest. Perhaps one day, Gale would notice his hair wasn't greying as quickly, or that the furrows between his eyes no longer deepened despite the endless days of laughter shared with Elltavia. Maybe then, they would realise they had been chosen as timeless protectors: the wizard destined to safeguard the magic he once sought to consume, and the ranger courageous enough to save her homeland.

[itsnotamatterofif]

Hi anon!!! Thank you so much for this, I went with the opportunity to write some Belle/Slick - they’re actually adorable, tsundere/tsundere couple that hate each other in the streets and are so loving and cosy in the sheets. This is just a short little thing, and Belle isn’t massively sick, but I hope you enjoy the sleepy cuddles!

“So, uh, what did you want me to do?”

Belle is curled up in her lap, looking smaller than ever, and Slick has never felt quite so out of her depth.

It was a bit unexpected, the affection of the sleeping car, especially in the days following the final and the unveiling of Slick and Greaseball’s schemes, but she’s not exactly ungrateful. After all, she was more than happy to oblige Belle’s shy gifts, flirt and chase after her when those enticing walls went up, and provide chaste kisses when the rest of the yard isn’t looking. Teasing and flattering is second nature - she’s had three older brothers to learn from, after all, only one of whom has ever been successful - but actually walking the walk has been… challenging.

Belle is not communicative at the best of times, too fatigued or slumbering to properly phrase what she wants, and although Tassita and Dinah have learned her tells by heart, they’re not so clear to Slick. That was how she knew this wasn’t just another brief fling to keep her trucking along; she was more mad at herself for expecting Belle to show up for a date during an unexpected nap time than she was at Belle for having an unexpected nap, which, by her books, was a first.

So now, she’s here, sat leaning against the wall of her bay in the freight shed with a somewhat pale looking Belle in her lap, curled up like a cat with her face occasionally scrunching up in discomfort. Struggling through her heavier than usual fatigue, she had explained that she just had to be deep cleaned from a sick passenger, and cleaning always made her feel vertigo; the coach shed was too quiet, the yard was too loud, and although she could think of other places, the smell of the freight shed was apparently dingy enough to distract her, and Slick wasn’t exactly going to say no.

In the warm yellow light of her bay, Belle looks even worse. She shifts slightly in rest, face falling into shadow as she rolls over away from the LED strips that Slick has rigged into the crannies of the walls, and Slick can’t help but hate the part of her that is genuinely concerned for Belle. She knows she’ll be fine, this is just typical passenger car dramatics, but the sickly lilac flush that has spread from Belle’s face down to where her skin meets frame definitely does not look good. Unfortunately, the other part of her, the part that isn’t actively hating herself for experiencing feelings, desperately wants to provide comfort, but neither part has absolutely any idea how to do that.

“Just stay still,” Belle mutters, muffled from where her face is pressed into the crook of Slick’s neck, “the more you move, the closer I get to my wiring snapping.”

As if on cue, something fizzles and groans from Belle’s chassis, and Slick feels eyebrows furrow against her neck.

“Alright,” Slick huffs, trying to make sure at least a little bit of performative annoyance bleed through, “I guess I’ll just sit here then.”

If Porter or Lumber walk in now, she’s toast. At least she can blackmail Hydra.

Seconds stretch into minutes into hours, Belle shifting once or twice again so she’s fully in Slick’s lap, and Slick kind of wants to chuck her off and call the whole thing a sham. It’s downright unfair how cute Belle is all cuddled in, ragged breaths becoming even and heavy eyelids finally fluttering shut. By her sides, her arms feel restless, useless, and every now and then she holds her hands up to stretch out her fingers. Really, she wants to wrap her arms around Belle, hold her tightly until the pain and the nausea passes, but then her hands hover above Belle’s middle for a second before she lets them fall limply to her sides again. Maybe Belle doesn’t watch to be touched - Slick knows how sensitive she is, and the last thing she wants to do is make her jump-

“You can hold me, you know,” Belle suddenly grumbles, almost as if she’s annoyed Slick hasn’t yet, and Slick can’t help the heat that prickles along her cheeks like needlepoint, “I would like that.”

“Well excuse me for not assuming,” Slick hisses, rolling her eyes as she wraps her arms around the coach; she’s soft from the velvet of her frame, warm and pliant in Slick’s arms as she scoots in to let Slick loosely hold her close. Belle is a comforting weight against her chest, and the feeling of her breath on Slick’s jaw is almost electric.

“I guess I’m grateful,” Belle mumbles, somehow sounding even more drowsy than a second ago, “when it’s just us, you- you don’t have to ask to hold me, got it? Just-“ she’s cut off by a yawn, and Slick can’t help but feel one of her own beginning to form- “everything you still need to ask for, but I guess I like it when you hold me.”

Slick is extraordinarily thankful Belle cannot see the heat in her cheeks.

“I think I’m going to sleep,” she continues, and Slick can’t help but squeeze her tightly, “wake me up before sunset, otherwise the others will ask where I’ve been.”

“You know I’m not your personal alarm clock, right?” Slick argues, but she can’t will up any of her usual bite, and Belle seems to take no notice as, within seconds, the sound of her faint snoring fills the bay. It’s quiet, almost adorably so, and absolutely addictive in its rhythm as Slick fights against her own eyes closing.

At least there’s no one around to see the small kiss she places on the crown of Belle’s head, and there’s definitely no one around to call her out if she rests her eyes for a second.

Who’s going to know?

[qu1cks1lversb1tch]

Memories | Lucien Vanserra

Summary: The memories were painful, but now they were all he had left, and it was tearing him apart.

Word Count: 1.4K

Warnings: Angst, slight suggestive theme, just general sadness guys — I'm sorry. Next Luci piece will be happy, I promise

Lucien inhaled and a scent he knew all too well invaded his senses — vanilla and spice. He remembered a time where things had been much simpler.

A week of secret glances and stolen kisses in the shadows had led to this. Her hushed laughter as Lucien hovered above her in her bed, planting kisses all over her face. His lips touched every inch of the face of the woman he loved, with a gentle warmth only she could pull from within.

With every soft touch, he admired how she looked bathed in the moonlight that spilled through the cottage window, with her legs wrapped around him.

“Luci.” She breathed his name, staring up at him with those wide eyes he fell in love with. He would never get used to the gentleness that filled them, the adoration at which she stared at him with. 

Every breath he took, her familiar scent consumed him — heart and mind. 

His lips claimed hers — soft and warm, spilling all of his feelings for her into the one notion, a silent declaration of love. And she returned it, one hand cupping his cheek while the other tangled itself in his long fire-red hair. 

Lucien's hands wandered, like every other hormonal teenage male's hands did. . . It wasn't rushed, however, nor inexperienced — it was gentle, calculating, as if mapping out every dip and curve that would keep him sated until he could sneak in through her bedroom window the next time. 

Oh, to be fifteen and in love. 

The sound of her parents walking up the stone path caused both to freeze, sharing a wide eyed look before Lucien pulled away, scrambling off of her bed as their voices drew closer. 

She watched in mild amusement and slight horror as he located his pants halfway across her bedroom along with the thin, white cotton of her underwear that had been hastily shed within minutes of him entering through the window. 

The garment was hastily tossed over to her and she stood from the bed, putting them back on while he made quick work of lacing his pants up and slipping his boots back on. 

He then got to the window before pausing, turning to look at her. Low on time, he sauntered over, bending to her level to place a gentle kiss on her lips.

“I love you.” Lucien murmured, gently stroking the smooth skin of her cheek with the pad of his thumb. 

She leaned into his touch. “And I love you.” She whispered in return.

He reluctantly pulled away, the voices of her parents drawing closer, nearly to the front door of the cottage — merely a room away. 

And no sooner than his boots landed in the soft, damp earth just outside her window, the front door opened and her father's booming voice could be heard, uncaring of the late hour. 

She barely had enough time to close the window and slip beneath the covers before there were two sharp knocks on her door and it opened, yet she pretended she'd been asleep for a while and he had woken her up. 

Lucien couldn't help but grin at how she always managed to fool her parents on nights he came over. It was thrilling — being in love and sneaking around. 

He shook his head slightly, the scent no longer there. It was never there. It was his imagination. A figment of the past, toying with his heartstrings the same way a cat played with a ball of yarn. 

Tamlin spared him a glance behind the golden mask embedded with emeralds, cut elegantly to look like leaves. 

Lucien's hands clenched into fists and he took a deep breath, fighting the emotions that clawed at his throat. How a simple smell — or even the imagination of a smell — could bring back memories long repressed for his own sake. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair.

It had been thirteen years. Thirteen years since he lost the one he truly loved. All because she — you — had been selfless, courageous, brave, and completely and utterly stupid.

“I have to go.” She whispered, standing there in her fighting leathers — the harvest gold emblem of the Autumn Court connecting the fur pelts to the armor that replaced the fine dresses he'd grown accustomed to in the more recent years. 

The emblem that controlled her life. A simple maple leaf with an embossed ‘A’ on a rounded badge. She carried it like the weight of the world was on her shoulders. 

Her hands, clad in leather fingerless gloves, traced from the expanse of his sharp jawline to the fire-red hair she loved so much. She stared at him with such love in her eyes, a twinge of sorrow in the depths of her irises. Committing him to memory. That's what she was doing.

“They shouldn't be allowed to call for you. . . You left. . . You came with me.” He murmured, his remaining russet eye showing his true emotions. He didn't want her to leave. He wanted her to stay there, safe with him. Happy. Loved. 

Lucien wanted to remove that sorrow from her gaze. He wanted to see that light he knew was within. The light he knew burned for him, and only him.

“I know. . . But I didn't renounce my position, like you did. I should've, but I never thought they'd need me again.” 

His eyes traced her features and drifted to the swords crossed at her back. He knew there were daggers strapped to her body — ones he could see and ones couldn't, but knew they were there, because he knew her. 

“If something, anything, goes wrong, you get yourself out of there, do you understand me?” His voice was pleading. 

She nodded in an instant, throwing her arms around him, burying her face in his chest. “When I come home, I'll renounce my position in the force and they'll never bother us again.” She muttered softly, pulling back to look at him. 

Him. Her Lucien. Her love. 

He couldn't help himself, leaning down to press a kiss to her lips, the soft and warm flesh consuming him as she reciprocated without hesitation. 

“I love you.” She whispered once they pulled away. 

“I love you too. . . Come home to me.” 

She could only smile softly and step out of his embrace entirely, the soft chime of the clock welcoming the new hour alerting her to the fact that she had to go. It was time.

“Close your eyes.” She hummed, mentally preparing herself for what she had to do. 

Lucien listened after a moment, his eyes closing. She observed him for a good moment. And when he opened his eyes, she was gone.

He grew angry with himself once again. He should've begged you to stay. Tied you down so you couldn't have left that day, regardless of whether or not it made you hate him. 

He could live with you being mad at him. Cursing his name, throwing paint brushes and slippers at him because he stopped you from defending your village, your family, the only home you knew before you moved into his heart. 

He could've lived with that.

But leaving, dying in such a tragic way for a court that didn't even remember your name. A court that didn't offer the funeral you deserved. . . Just another name, another prayer, another blessing for your soul to rest peacefully in the great beyond. 

He couldn't live with that. It was a struggle every single day, but he continued on because you would've wanted him to. Every time he was about to slip into a rut of not eating and avoiding his work, he could practically hear your soft, melodic voice in the back of his head, telling him that you were okay. That he could have his moments, but that you didn't want him to cause himself more pain — more anguish. 

Some days were better, some days were worse. The good days were becoming more frequent, but the bad days hit him hard. 

They brought memories. Memories he couldn't shake away. He both loved them and hated them. 

They were memories, yes, but you should've been there beside him, making more. It shouldn't have been a constant loop of the good and bad, with a wild imagination of what could've been if the world and fates hadn't been cruel. 

He missed you, and the memories only made it worse.

He couldn't love you for centuries and then just stop one day, not when everything reminded him of you. Your smile. Your laugh. Your scent. The way your face would scrunch up when you were concentrating hard on something. . . Not when he was haunted by the ghost of you. 

[lucagray813]

Shadow - Chapter 3

Title: Alive & Living

Rating: T

Word Count: ~10,000

Characters: Wukong, Macaque

Relationships: Macaque/Wukong

Summary: Wukong just wants to help but he's slowly coming to realise it's not that straightforward. Macaque is just doing his best (and effortlessly wooing Wukong while he's at it).

Additional Tags: Developing Relationship, Acquired Disability, Slice of Life, DBK is called Niú, PIF is called Gōngzhǔ

CW: Brief mentions of: self-harm, disfiguring scars, alcohol

Link to AO3 Version

Chapter Navigation: First | Prev | Next

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Wukong was almost impressed at the lengths Macaque was going to to not pick up the artefact on the table in front of him. He'd managed to distract Wukong more than once with idle chatter and very embarrassingly had even got him with a "What's that over there?" before legging it.

He'd had to physically drag him back to the vault and now he stood beside him, arms crossed as he watched Macaque just stare at the artefact as if it was going to lunge for him at any moment. Which it wasn't going to - he'd even demonstrated what it did before trying to hand it to Macaque before this whole song and dance had kicked off.

The artefact was simply a small cylindrical chunk of metal that extended into a staff at the wielder's discretion. He'd deliberately chosen it because it didn't rely on the user's magic or do anything to the wielder and if Macaque would just pick it up he would see there was nothing to worry about.

He was perhaps being a little insensitive to Macaque's fear but they'd been at this for nearly an hour and his patience was running thin. He was sure Macaque's attempts to escape this exercise had only given him more time to get worked up about it.

He sighed in exasperation, "Macaque, you're overthinking this. It's like ripping off a plaster - don't think, just do it!"

Macaque snapped at him, "Because that's always worked out so well for you!" He continued to grumble under his breath some unflattering words about hypocrisy and general insults directed at him.

Wukong tried to find his patience. He understood this was easier said than done. The Lady Bone Demon had instilled a fear of magical artefacts so powerful it persisted even after her demise. Macaque had attempted to use a number of them to escape his debt to her and so much as touching one caused the magic she had weaved into his to cause him excruciating pain.

But she was gone and so was her magic, the only thing stopping Macaque was himself and Wukong maybe wouldn't be pushing so hard if there weren't so many artefacts here that he could use to help him with his muted senses but he had to get over this fear first.

He placed a hand on Macaque's shoulder, "C'mon, you can do this. I know you can do this. Here."

He moved his hand to pick up Macaque's, intent on guiding it to the artefact but he was met with trembling resistance once his hand hovered above it. He was however physically much stronger than Macaque but he only managed to force his hand down half an inch before it landed on a small dome of shadows.

"Wha...? Macaque!"

Macaque pulled his hand back and cradled it to his chest, "Look, there's no need for me to do this. I can just go for the rest of eternity without using another artefact that I didn't create - no big deal."

Wukong threw his hands up, "Yes, big deal! Even if we didn't have a small mountain of artefacts you might find helpful right now you still might need to use one in the future." He started to pace, "Just picture it - it's the end of the world and me and MK are pinned down by the big bad but you're able to slink away to the artefact needed to stop them! But instead of saving the day you're stood there paralyzed with fear!"

He turned to face Macaque sternly, "Are you seriously going to let the world end? Are you going to let me and MK bite it?" He pointed to the artefact on the table, "You can save us - you just have to reach out and grab it."

Macaque did not reach out and grab the artefact, instead he buried his face in his hands, "Wukong, shut up. This isn't helping."

He could tell Macaque was just as frustrated with all this as he was - probably even more so as he got the joint delight of being frustrated with himself and Wukong - but he was just winding himself up the longer this went on.

All of a sudden Wukong was hit with a brainwave and an absolutely genius idea came to him. He walked away from Macaque until he found another innocuous artefact a short distance away - this one an orb that he knew just repeated back anything you said to it. Without giving it any more thought he turned and with a, "Hey! Think fast!" he threw it straight at Macaque.

In hindsight, he perhaps threw it a little too hard but he needed to throw it fast enough that Macaque couldn't stop him. Unfortunately, all Macaque had time to do was raise his head just to be struck straight between the eyes.

He had the good grace to wince at the audible sound of it cracking against his skull before it knocked him and the chair backwards and on to the floor. For a moment it felt like everything had gone still and then Macaque let out a truly terrifying growl as he jumped back to his feet. His face was a picture of fury, his tail lashing angrily behind him, the artefact he had thrown had magically appeared in his hand and he was winding it back clearly planning to get Wukong as good as he'd got him, spitting vitriol all the while.

He waved his hands wildly, "Wait! Wait, Macaque! Look! Look! You're doing it! You're holding the artefact!"

Macaque paused in confusion, before his head whipped around as if to look at what had hit him. He immediately dropped it and backed away and Wukong wailed as he made his way forward to pick it up, "No! You had it! You held it and everything was ok! Here, try it!"

He stood in front of Macaque and held out the artefact in the palm of his hand. Macaque swallowed thickly but with only a slightly shaking hand he slowly placed it on top of the orb. Wukong's elated grin was wiped off his face before it could even form by Macaque's fist cracking him straight across the jaw.

He reared back and brought a hand to his throbbing mouth, "Ow! What the hell!?"

"That's for throwing this stupid thing at my head!" He shook said artefact and Wukong belatedly realised he had let go of it once he'd been hit.

Indignantly he responded, "As if you even felt it!"

"Oh trust me, I felt you throw a rock a hundred miles per hour straight at my head! I can still feel it, you bastard! Surprised the damn thing didn't shatter on impact."

Ah. Well, y'know, maybe the punch in the face really wasn't that uncalled for because now he was looking at it - it did look like he'd actually done some proper damage. Hmm, they should probably get that looked at once they were done here.

"Alright, so now we're even! But the important thing is my plan worked! You just had to stop thinking so much! And look, now you're holding it no problem! You're welcome!"

Macaque, as ever, did not join in on his enthusiasm, "It's not even on, Wukong. It probably doesn't even work after being used to cause blunt force trauma."

Wukong bounded over to him, "Well then let's try it then! It just repeats back things it hears - nice and easy!"

He saw the reluctance on Macaque's face but he was determined not to give him any time to freak out. He gently placed a hand over the artefact and took Macaque's other hand in his, "We'll do it together. On three?"

Macaque looked very wary but he closed his eyes and nodded and as Wukong counted them in Macaque's grip on his hand became bruising but it was completely worth it to see the orb glow faintly in their hands and Macaque only had time to let out a shaky sigh of relief before Wukong had grabbed him and started swinging them in circles, "You did it! You did it!" He laughed joyously, "I knew you could!"

When he finally stopped spinning them he just couldn't resist the urge to place a firm kiss against Macaque's cheek, and then another, and he just couldn't stop until Macaque finally pushed him away with a laugh, "Calm down, jeez. It wasn't that big a deal!"

"It totally was! You conquered your fear!"

Macaque huffed, "I faced my fear. I didn't conquer it."

"Same difference! You sourpuss! C'mon, you should be proud of yourself!" He could already tell whatever Macaque was going to say next was going to be an attempt to downplay what he'd done so he shook him, "Nope! I don't want to hear it! I'll just be proud enough for both of us!"

Despite being huffy about it Wukong was certain Macaque was loving all this praise and while Wukong hadn't forgotten that they needed to look at Macaque's head, he didn't want to let the momentum slow. So he let go in order to grab the original artefact and pushed into Macaque's hands, "Do it again!"

In the blink of an eye there was a staff in Macaque's hands and Wukong cheered as he went and grabbed some more items to which Macaque dutifully activated. It was only when he brought over an artefact that should improve his sight that Macaque faltered, "Er, maybe that's enough for one day? I really should go stick an ice pack or something on this." He pointed at his forehead for emphasis.

He pulled out the puppy dog eyes, "Please? Just this last one and then we can be done for the day - promise!"

Macaque very reluctantly took the enchanted glasses from him and Wukong couldn't help but hold his breath as he waited for them to put them on. As soon as they were, he asked excitedly, "Do they work? Can you see me?"

He nodded but Wukong's elation was cut short by Macaque taking them off, "Wait! What are you doing? Do they hurt or something? Don't worry, we've got loads more to try if they do!"

Macaque didn't look reassured as he looked down and away, his response was quiet, "Can we be done for today?"

Very thrown by the sudden change in mood, he acquiesced, "Uh, yeah, sure. Are you ok?"

His nod did nothing to comfort him, especially when he turned his back to him, "Yeah. I... I need a minute. I'll get you back at the house for dinner?"

Wukong reached out to him, "Macaque...?"

"It's fine. I'm fine. Just need a minute." He looked over his shoulder, "Please."

He dropped his hand and brought it to hold his arm, "Yeah, okay. I'll see you at dinner?"

He nodded once more before sinking into the shadows.

---

Wukong berated himself as he prepared dinner. He couldn't have just left it. No, he just had to keep pushing! Fuck. Everything had been going so well and now Macaque was upset and he didn't even know why.

If his hands weren't busy they were anxiously tapping as he waited for Macaque to reappear. He kept looking over his shoulder hoping to see him come in. It was as he was serving up that he heard the sound of Macaque clearing his throat behind him.

He swung around quickly, but anything he might have said caught in his throat as he took in Macaque, standing there a little awkwardly wearing those same glasses from earlier. He could only stand there stunned as Macaque coughed, "Er, dinner looks good?"

Wukong felt his eyes get a little wet, "You can see it?"

"Uh, yeah. Tofu and noodles, right?"

Something wasn't right. This should be a happy moment but Macaque looked tense and was trying to pretend he wasn't, "Macaque...?"

Instead of answering, he walked up to him, eyes trained on his face. He stopped in front of him and brought a hand up to tentatively rest on his cheek, his voice wavered slightly, "You're face is as dumb as I remember it."

Wukong let out a surprised laugh and brought a hand up to cover Macaque's, leaning his forehead to rest against his, "You're the actual worst, you know that?"

He felt Macaque's nod, "Yeah, I know." He leaned back, "C'mon, let's go have dinner. Let's rewatch that movie from yesterday so I can actually see these special effects you were raving on about."

Throughout dinner, Wukong let himself pretend that everything had worked out. So what if he thought this would be a much more momentous occasion? Maybe Macaque just didn't want to make a big deal about it. And so what if Macaque didn't put any of his sauce on his dinner? That was okay, he did that every once in a while, the same thing every day could make you sick of it after all.

But once there was no food to distract them he watched Macaque from the side of his eye.

He was tense. Like, really tense - his tail was wrapped tightly around his own waist, his arms wrapped around his knees with claws digging into his thighs and he seemed to tremble minutely occasionally. The most damning piece of evidence though was the way he kept closing his eyes tightly for minutes at a time before forcing himself to open them and watch the TV.

Wukong felt his heart sink, "Macaque...?"

They were both startled by the sharp, "What!" that followed. Macaque immediately tried to backtrack, "I- I didn't mean that. Sorry. I... Just was really caught up watching the show. Sorry."

"Macaque... Take the glasses off."

He just hunched in on himself and resolutely stared at the TV, "It's fine."

Wukong was aggrieved, "Why do we always have to do this? Why can't you just talk to me? What's going on?"

"Nothing's going on. It's fine."

Wukong grabbed the remote and pointedly turned off the TV, "You either take them off by choice or I'll take them off myself. What's it going to be?"

He was prepared to use force if need be and he more or less assumed he would have to but he was pleasantly surprised, and slightly wary, when Macaque willingly took them off his face. He played with them in his hands and Wukong waited him out.

He was absolutely not prepared for the quiet sniffle before Macaque brought up a hand to wipe at his eyes, he moved closer intending to lay a hand on him to try and comfort him but he flinched before his hand got anywhere near him. Concerned he quietly questioned, "Macaque...?"

There was a terrible shameful look on his face as he responded, "It's too much."

He didn't need to ask for clarification but he paused before he answered and considered Macaque - the tension in his body, the stress in his tone earlier, the need to block out what was happening, it was all actually much more familiar than he had realised.

He scooted back to the other side of the couch to give him space, "Do you remember way back when I found that cursed bell artefact? And we couldn't get it off me and we couldn't get it to stop ringing?"

Macaque looked a little unsure, "Er, maybe?"

Wukong nodded, "Well, I remember it and not just because it was super annoying but because you were totally losing your shit over it. I can't remember why you didn't just portal away but I had to try and physically stop you from ripping your ears off."

In hindsight it was actually super stressful, seeing Macaque so distressed and not knowing how to help, but at the time he really couldn't understand why Macaque was being so dramatic about it, even got annoyed that he was having to try and calm him down when he was the one with the curse.

But that wasn't the only time Macaque's hearing seemed to cause him trouble and the result was usually the same - one very overstimulated Macaque who couldn't stand to be around anyone until he felt better. It happened a lot less frequently as time went on, generally only happening when he was really tired or low on magic but he remembered always being really put out whenever it did happen because anything he did to try and help only seemed to make it worse.

He liked to think he would do a better job at helping with something like that now. His younger self liked to strong arm solutions, rarely accepting that backing off was the correct course of action. Obviously, he should have just removed any triggers, let Macaque be and made sure everyone else did the same. Maybe checking in occasionally and making sure he had everything he needed. He could definitely do that now.

"Is it like that?"

Macaque sighed tiredly before leaning forward to deposit the glasses on the table, when he sat back he had a defeated look on his face, "It's a close enough comparison."

"Why did you wear them for so long then? Did you think if you just grinned and bore it you would magically stop feeling bad?"

Macaque wouldn't look at him, "No..."

"Then why do it? Why put yourself through this?"

Macaque just held himself tightly and said nothing and Wukong wondered if being able to see after so long had just been worth the discomfort. He could possibly see the world clearly for the first time in god knows how long and he just hadn't wanted to give that up. Sure he used regular glasses on occasion to read for short bursts but Wukong was willing to bet they couldn't compare to what an enchanted pair could do.

So he conceded, "Sorry. I know it must be hard not having your senses work properly. I just... There's got to be a better way, right? We can work on it together - try another artefact or modify one?"

For whatever reason, his words just seemed to make Macaque feel even worse but he nodded regardless and Wukong felt at a total loss. Maybe this conversation would go better tomorrow once Macaque had had a chance to recover from being overstimulated. He desperately wanted to hold him and reassure him but he knew that wouldn't help.

Still he tried to put as much sincerity into his voice as possible as he promised, "We'll figure this out. Together."

----

Predictably, they slept in their own beds that night and Wukong felt in no way sad or pathetic as he tossed and turned without Macaque beside him. It's not like they slept together every night but it was definitely more often than not and he slept better when he was here with him.

After a few hours of restless sleep he eventually got up and decided he would start looking into the solution for Macaque's problem. He made his way to the library and started brainstorming and jotting down ideas.

Obviously, there were more artefacts to try. It was possible that one just hadn't agreed with Macaque but Wukong had a feeling this was going to be a problem regardless of the artefact - after all even normal, non-enchanted glasses could make Macaque feel nauseous after a little while.

He wondered if the solution might be in the seals they had put together to limit the range of Macaque's hearing. Being able to tweak his senses to be more or less sensitive as required might be an option. Maybe having twenty-twenty vision all the time was a bit too intense but surely any improvement on what he could currently see was better than nothing?

So modifying the enchantments was one option but he also pondered if redoing the enchantments using Macaque's magic would help things as well. It would definitely take a while to figure it out but Macaque's magic had always been a bit funny when interacting with another's - maybe that was a factor in this.

He had started playing around with the enchanted glasses and trying to figure out how they worked when Macaque made his appearance and despite how exhausted he seemed he had a grim determination on his face.

But before he could voice any concerns, Macaque had asked him to fetch the other artefacts he had found so he could try them on and he couldn't help but hesitate, "I could go get them... But honestly you're looking a little rough there. Maybe we should wait a bit before trying the next one? There's no rush, right?"

He was sure if he was in Macaque's position he would've torn the vault apart to find the answer to his affliction so he could understand being keen to crack on but this could honestly take a while and it was probably going to take a bit of a toll on Macaque while they figured it out. Short attempts followed by long breaks to recover sounded sensible. He supposed it really wasn't his call to make but he really didn't want to see him suffer needlessly.

If nothing else he'd possibly be without his sleeping companion for even longer, if he was stressed out from trying artefacts, and while it was hardly the end of the world the thought of it made him want to sulk.

With a lot less of a fight than he would have expected Macaque relented, sitting heavily in the chair beside him and instead asking him what he was working on. That led to some good back and forth discussing ways forward and Wukong found he was actually kind of excited to work on a project like this with Macaque.

Not just because of the end goal, although obviously that was a huge motivator, but it was nice to have a challenge like this, to have something that really put his brain to work and between the two of them they would leave no stone unturned.

As the weeks went on however it became clear that Macaque did not share his enthusiasm and he just seemed to get more and more miserable the more they worked on it. He was clearly trying not to seem as unhappy as he was but Wukong knew him well enough to see this whole thing was really getting to him.

He supposed he couldn't blame him - it could be frustrating, tedious work with no pay off and attempts often left Macaque feeling terrible and overstimulated. But, of course, Macaque was resisting all attempts to properly discuss how all this was affecting him.

So slowly but surely Wukong had tried to disengage them from the project a little. It wasn't outright abandoned but it eventually became a once a week sort of effort, with Wukong messing around with things privately when he had some time alone, and it was telling how little Macaque fought him on his not so subtle suggestions they take longer breaks.

His mood massively improved as well and Wukong had his suspicions that Macaque wasn't nearly as bothered by his muted senses as he had assumed. He guessed it didn't really seem to be detrimental to Macaque's day to day and any specific issues he came up against he either found a work around for or he could just ask Wukong for help with it.

But then why had he been so determined to see this through?

He wasn't given too much time to dwell on it because in an effort to distract Macaque from the fact he was deliberately slowing down progress of their joint project he had started suggesting they have days out and date nights.

Macaque had been, perhaps justifiable, a little skeptical of the idea at first and to be fair their respective ideas of what qualified as fun could differ greatly but seeing as he was trying to distract Macaque he tried to suggest things he thought he would like and encouraged him to tell him what he would like to do.

Wukong had played it safe so far. His first suggestion had been to check out the jungle that MK had visited a couple weeks back to help out with a strange curse that had taken over a large chunk of it. MK had saved the day, obviously, but he hadn't been able to find a way to undo all the damage which apparently included some mutated animals and plants - which Wukong thought might be cool to check out.

Once they had gotten there, he had doubted the wisdom of this plan. They were more or less here to sightsee but that was pretty difficult to do when you couldn't actually see. He had decided he would just have to be Macaque's eyes! And so, he had described everything he came across in as much detail as he could.

With his ears and his shadows however Macaque was way better at pinpointing odd shaped or sounding flora and fauna that Wukong would have missed and they soon settled into working together to discover everything they could.

He found that he didn't really need to describe every little thing. If he just pointed out things he thought were interesting then that seemed enough for Macaque. He could after all figure out the shape of something from the shadows and he could see some of their colourings. Wukong could just add a little detail like pointing out that mutant lemur that had a funky multi coloured star shape on its forehead and that would be enough to spark a conversation about whether that was purely a result of the mutation or not.

Wukong in no way underestimated Macaque but he could admit to himself he had worried about how enjoyable he could find things without most of his senses. This trip had done a lot to reassure him that while Macaque might be missing out in some regards, he was still able to participate and enjoy himself. All their focus on finding ways to help him had sort of made him lose sight of that.

It had been a successful trip - they'd taken in the sights, bickering had been kept to a reasonable amount, and they'd challenged each other to races, fights and scavenger hunts. It had been fun! And they both near enough collapsed straight into bed together once they got back.

And so it continued - there were loads of places that they wanted to experience or that they already had and wanted to share with the other. It was like going on a zero stakes mini adventure! But beyond discovering the world Wukong really wanted to do things he knew Macaque would enjoy and to that end they were going to see a show.

He had dithered over whether to keep it a surprise or not. Going to see a show was like proper date night material, right? He could have made a whole thing about it. But as he sat on his tablet scrolling through the sheer number of options he felt increasingly unconfident he could pick what Macaque would like the most.

So he decided just to ask, "You want to go see a show this week?"

Macaque paused whatever he was listening to on the other side of the couch and responded, "What kind of show?"

"I have no idea. I've been going through what's on in the city but there's too many options!"

Macaque shrugged, "Just pick one. We can always leave if it's shit."

Yeah right, if he picked a bad show he was never going to hear the end of it, "Just help me decide. Here listen, these are the most popular ones at the moment."

They went back and forth for a while deciding what to go see. Neither of them were concerned with the when or how - Macaque could easily sneak them in. Although, maybe they should check the place out before hand to find the best seats? Ah, they'd figure it out later.

And they did - one handy invisibility spell combined and a slightly modified nimbus so it had a backrest and they were sitting dead centre above the audience with the best seat in the house. They'd settled on an upbeat musical number to Wukong's surprise.

He had tried to offer the much more serious looking period piece but Macaque had just scoffed at him, "If I wanted to sit and listen to you complain for two hours I would just put on Monkey King Reimagined again."

To Macaque's regret, Wukong hadn't been able to resist ranting about how much he hated that movie. He'd gone on for so long that eventually he'd just portaled away and Wukong never even got round to defending his ability to watch classical theatre.

Ah, well. They could go another time - it's not like there was anything stopping them watching as many shows as they pleased. Admittedly, given the choice he would rather watch something that wasn't too depressing or thought provoking.

It was just as the show was about to start that he realised what they were missing, "Ah! Macaque! We need snacks!"

"You mean, you want snacks."

"No! We need them! Snacks are an integral part of watching a show!"

Macaque just rolled his eyes, "You're thinking of movies. Snacks and theatre aren't the done thing. Just make yourself some with your fur."

He whined as he shook Macaque's arm, "You know that's not the same! They have the taste and texture but they don't actually fill you up! C'mon, just open a shadow portal for me!"

Macaque was clearly gearing up to argue with him but as the lights dimmed he just sighed and opened a portal large enough for Wukong to stick a hand through and drag through a couple bags of peach chips, he whisper shouted, "Wait, I need-"

He was cut off by the bottle of juice that was thrust into his face as Macaque shushed him, "Shut up and don't say anything else until the intermission."

A tough ask for sure - Wukong was the kind of guy that liked to do a running commentary as he watched anything and to be fair Macaque was pretty tolerant of it most of the time but he supposed it wouldn't kill him to keep his mouth shut for an hour.

He wasn't quite a hundred percent successful - unable to resist the urge to quietly gush about something on stage. It was the all out kind of spectacle that Wukong loved - bright colours, energetic movements, some well placed jokes and quips.

He would glance over occasionally to Macaque to see him smiling or laughing but oddly at some point he had closed his eyes and Wukong wondered if they should have looked to see if there was an audio description service the theatre offered but he supposed it didn't matter when Macaque was clearly enjoying himself.

But during the break as he described the costume changes to Macaque he thought maybe he should suggest they go grab a pair of glasses they'd been working on so he could actually see them. Back in the day, Macaque had loved every element of theatre - including the outfits, makeup, background sets, props - all of it and it sort of bummed him out that he was missing out on a lot of the finer details.

Especially when he couldn't seem to adequately describe something but something told him not to say anything. All of this, was at least in part, to get away from the stress of trying to restore his senses. They were having a good time, he didn't need to get hung up on how Macaque could be having an even better time.

It had been a good night out and they happily discussed it all once they got back - arguing over the best part and comparing their favourite songs - but there was a strange feeling bubbling up in Wukong's chest and as the conversation naturally lulled, he couldn't stop himself from asking, "You think you'll ever get into doing shows like that again?"

Macaque hummed, "Never say never but I think my theatre days are behind me for the most part."

He tried not to keep his tone light, "Really? Because I heard someone had been putting on shows at the youth centre."

Macaque laughed, "Well, I did say for the most part but a little shadow play for a crowd of kids is hardly what I'd call a show. Do you remember some of the plays we put on back in the day? Some of them took literal years of planning and prepping. Ugh, just thinking about it makes me tired."

"Aw, c'mon, don't be such an old man! You could totally join a theatre troupe and just perform - leave all the behind the scenes work to the kids!"

Macaque was bemused, "You really think I'm capable of just performing?"

He thought about it for half a second before he scoffed, "Yeah, you're right. You're way too much of a control freak for that."

"I believe the word you're looking for is perfectionist. As if I'd let any show I'm part of be anything short of spectacular."

Control freak. How could he have forgotten how obsessive Macaque used to get over every single detail? He was sure he must have micromanaged people to the point of insanity but credit where it was due, he always put on a good show.

Still he teased, "Surely if you're a good enough actor then you can carry the show no matter what."

"Well obviously but if someone is coming to watch a show - they're there to see a show not just one damn good actor."

His smug face allowed no room for doubt who that "damn good actor" was. With a little less levity he asked, "Don't you miss it though? Being up on stage?"

Macaque shrugged, "Nah. Not really. I get plenty of opportunities elsewhere to flex my dramatic flair." He then laughed, "I drive Red Son nuts with it every time I visit."

He smiled briefly at the thought but he pushed, "It's not the same though. You're really sure you don't miss it? Like not even a little bit?"

Macaque appraised him for a minute before an infuriating grin spread across his face, "I'm really sure but I'm getting the feeling that you, on the other hand, really want to see me back on stage."

For some unknown reason, he felt his face heat up and petulantly he crossed his arms and turned away, "What? No! I just don't want you to be missing out because you think you're too good to play nice with others."

He could hear the amusement in Macaque's voice, "Oh? And here I was thinking my biggest fan might appreciate a private show."

He was not proud of the way his mind immediately fell into the gutters but he yanked it back out with both hands and shook it for good measure. He hoped the rosy glow of his cheeks was mistaken for general embarrassment over being sappy or sentimental.

The truth was though, he realised, that he actually did want to see Macaque up on stage - to see him in his element and loving every moment of it. How long had it been since he'd seen him perform? To see him glow with joy and pride as he took a bow as the crowd went wild? How long since he'd heard him sing?

Swallowing his pride, he admitted, "Well, I guess, I... I mean, it would be nice to hear you sing again. Sometime. Maybe. If you wanted to."

Macaque was clearly eating this up, "Aww. You want me to sing just for you?Want me to serenade you, hm? What were you thinking? Yuèliang dàibiǎo wǒ de xīn? Xuǎnzé? Or are those a bit too modern for your tastes? Oh, maybe you'd prefer I write you an original piece?"

God, he hated this guy. Almost as much as he hated the way his treacherous heart sped up at the thought of Macaque genuinely singing him something romantic.

Macaque, of course, could hear it and he leaned into his space as he cooed, "Aw, who would've guessed that the big, bad Monkey King wanted to be courted? And so sweetly too?"

He absolutely did not want to be courted! Romance was for losers! He had never, ever even entertained such a ridiculous notion! But no matter what he said he was never going to live this down - denying it or storming off would only add more fuel to the fire. There was only one way he could possibly recover from this in the long term.

He sat up tall, "I want an original piece. And I want live music and a fancy get up to go with it."

Macaque chuckled, "Of course, you do." He leaned up and placed a brief, chaste kiss on his lips, "As you wish."

Wukong wasn't sure if he was relieved or not when he retreated back to the other side of the couch. He definitely didn't love how satisfied he looked with himself but he was distracted by Macaque mentioning off-handedly, "I'll need some help making outfits and such. You up for that?"

He coughed and tried to compose himself, "Uh, yeah, sure. I can do that."

Macaque continued smoothly, "I hope you don't mind waiting for a little while - been some time since I picked up an instrument, let alone composed something."

Wukong leapt on the chance to change the subject somewhat, "I've basically learnt how to play pretty much every instrument there is since I retired! We could play together!"

Macaque grinned, "Oh? Your skill extends beyond hitting the gong at the end of the song?"

He couldn't believe that with everything that had been going on at the time Macaque had still managed to pick up on that little tidbit. He crossed his arms huffily, "My musical talents would have been wasted on that crowd."

"That's because any talent, musical or otherwise, that you might have disappears as soon as you step foot on a stage."

Wukong was on the back foot for the rest of the evening. He just could not get the upper hand and bring Macaque down a peg. He was going to have to find some way tomorrow to get even.

Despite his pouting however he did deign to let Macaque share his bed with him. Even more benevolently he allowed Macaque to rest his head on his chest while Wukong idly ran his hand through his hair, quietly he asked, "You really think your theatre days are behind you?"

Macaque hummed, "On a grand scale? More or less. The lights for one thing are way too much to deal with but it's just a lot of high energy and emotion that I don't think the shadows love either."

He frowned as he buried his face in Macaque's hair, who gently pointed out, "This is bothering you a lot more than it's bothering me."

He explained, "I know. I just... You used to really love all that stuff and I don't want you to be forced to give it up."

Macaque huffed, "You're so dramatic, you know that? If I want to put on a show I still can - it just wouldn't be a big production to a crowd of thousands. And honestly, I think that's for the better. Sure, the actual performance was always great but the amount of stress that went into making it happen? I'm too old and tired for it. Just like you're too old and tired to wreak havoc anymore."

He couldn't stop his knee jerk reaction, "I'm not old!"

Macaque just scoffed. He was right though - he was old and he was so unbelievably tired. These little adventures they'd been going on recently had been just the right amount of excitement for him. Gone were the days he forever chased after new heights.

Maybe the physical changes Macaque had experienced added to his disinterest in putting on showstopping performances but just being old and tired was likely enough on it's own. Both of them lived at a slower pace these days.

He kissed Macaque's head, "Yeah, I get it. I get front row seats if you're in any sort of show though, right?"

"You'd have to fight the kids at the youth centre for it and I don't like your odds."

"Ah, kids love me! If anything I'll just end up stealing the show!"

The lighthearted bantering persisted until sleep claimed him.

----

Overall, time off the island was well spent and they were at no risk of running out of things to do or see anytime soon. On the list of potential date ideas he hadn't suggested yet however included going on a double date with Niú and Gōngzhǔ but he just hadn't quite worked up the nerve to ask

He thought it could be a lot of fun - Niú was an absolute riot after he'd had a couple casks of wine - but while he was definitely on better terms with them these days, there was no denying who their favourite monkey was and honestly he was a little worried he'd go and all three of them would give him a hard time.

Macaque's friendship with them was something that had developed while he was locked away beneath Five Phase Mountain but he'd never actually asked him how it had come about. It had always struck him as a little bizarre though because Macaque and Niú had barely even tolerated each other during the Brotherhood days.

But his relationship with Niú was as genuine as it was with Gōngzhǔ - he spent as much time with them individually as he did with them together. Though Wukong strongly suspected that it was Gōngzhǔ's influence on Niú that had changed him for the better in Macaque's eyes.

Maybe that was the best way to ease into the idea - get Macaque to share with him what he'd missed and what they got up to when they hung out. He wondered if they knew about Macaque's physical changes or if they even suspected anything was amiss.

If they did surely they would be looking into it too? Maybe they had even roped Red Son into looking for a technological solution. Wukong doubted that's where the answer lay but every avenue was worth exploring.

Although he was somewhat horrified by the image of a half cyborg Macaque. He had a feeling that he'd never go for that though - it didn't fit his image at all. He supposed he could just cover it with a glamour but still being half robot was-

His musings were cut short by the back of Macaque's hand none to gently smacking him on the nose, "Wukong, I can hear you thinking and I'm trying to snooze here so would you kindly knock it off?"

He laughed slightly as he snuggled against Macaque's back, "Sorry, my thoughts went way off on a tangent... Hey, you would never think about becoming, like, half-robot, would you?"

He was promptly ignored.

----

In preparation for whatever romantic event he'd signed himself up for he had started practicing his sewing again. Sure, he could magic up whatever he or Macaque wanted or he could just buy it but those were such boring options. Besides, he had a real knack for seamstressing and he hadn't had an opportunity to really work at it for centuries.

If it gave him an excuse to take Macaque's measurements and feel him up for tailoring then that was just a bonus. A bonus that Macaque was exceedingly tolerant of.

There were a lot of things he enjoyed that he realised he'd let fall by the wayside. Picking up various instruments again had also been a lot of fun - the monkeys liked to join in too with that one. Whether it be dancing, "singing", or trying to make their own music to go with it - it was a chaotic ear sore but everybody had a good time.

Well, bar Macaque, who tended to disappear when the monkeys really got going. Although, sometimes he would just sit close to him and reduce the range on his hearing to block out most of the riffraff.

Macaque was away for the day however and he found himself reclined on a branch of his peach tree, idly strumming on a pípá he'd unearthed from the palace, as he let his thoughts wander.

Wukong was not a particularly romantic person by nature but as he considered this song that Macaque was working on he couldn't help but picture how it would go. The most likely outcome was that Macaque used it as an opportunity to trash talk him in a new, creative way but he also wouldn't put it past him to make a legitimate, sappy love song just to embarrass him.

He wasn't sure he actually hated the idea of a genuine expression of how Macaque felt. Sometimes, it was like pulling teeth trying to get either of them to even say a nice thing about the other. He knew deep down they both loved each other a truly disgusting amount but saying as much was handing the other the chance to make fun of them on a silver platter.

Their actions generally betrayed how they really felt but as embarrassing as it felt to admit it - he did sort of like the idea that they could have a moment where they just let themselves speak about how they felt about each other without being little shits about it.

And the more he thought about this scenario, the more he realised there was something else he wanted too. If they were going to be open and honest, then they should go for broke and take off their glamours - no hiding what they really looked like.

If he was being truthful, it was something that had been playing in the back of his mind for a while, but how did he go about making it happen? Because he had to face it, he had a lot less on the line than Macaque by revealing himself.

For one, Macaque wouldn't really be able to see the difference. He would probably be able to sense that his glamours were off and he would perhaps appreciate the gesture but his shadows wouldn't necessarily reveal his scars to him, and he wouldn't be able to feel them as he ran a hand over them. Maybe he would notice how his eyes had changed colour? But that would probably be it, Wukong would have to describe what was different.

Secondly, the body he was hiding behind his glamours really wasn't that different from the one Macaque knew. Sure, there were a couple notable changes but overall the only thing truly dramatic about them was how he personally felt about them. And even then he'd come to terms with a lot of it, he really just hid them because he had an image to maintain.

Macaque, on the other hand...

Wukong didn't know how he had changed - he knew about his ruined eye, of course, had seen glimpses of it even, but he didn't know what else Macaque was hiding or how Macaque felt about how he looked now. If Macaque didn't feel comfortable letting him see then he wouldn't push it but admittedly the thought that he didn't trust him with the truth did sting.

He knew it was much more complicated than that but some small part of him refused to listen to reason. It was stupid. How they chose to appear to the world didn't make a difference to what they meant to each other and yet, he desperately wanted to see Macaque for who he truly was and for him to be seen in return.

Well, there was really only one thing that he could control about the situation. He took a breath in and as he let it out, he felt his glamours melt away - from his position all he could see was the scarring across his knuckles as his hands moved over the pípá.

There was some curious chirping from the monkeys currently lazing around him but inevitably it was a change met with very little fanfare. He'd just have to wait for Macaque to get back to see if there was any reaction to be had.

He had been sat watching TV when Macaque returned and the slight pause as he looked at him oddly was the only indication that he'd even noticed. Immediately falling back into routine as if nothing was different.

That was... Fine. Great even. It shouldn't be a big deal. This should be a totally normal thing for either of them to do. No need to make a fuss about it.

He managed maybe half an hour before he couldn't take it any more, "You're really not going to say anything?"

Macaque regarded him coolly, "What is it exactly you want me to say?"

He threw his arms up, "Something! Anything instead of just ignoring it!"

"No, you did this because you wanted something from me and I don't know what that is. Anything I say or do now is going to be wrong."

"I don't want anything from you! I did it because I-" He cut himself off, and took a breath, "No, ok, look, I've wanted to do this for a while but I just... didn't know how to bring it up, alright?"

"You're still expecting me to respond in some way though."

"Well, yeah, but not in a specific way. I just don't want you to ignore it. It's sort of a big deal, y'know?"

"Is it?"

He'd convinced himself that it wasn't but now that he was here he was realising that it absolutely was. He hadn't taken them off since he'd completed the Journey and it mattered to him. It really mattered to him because he wanted Macaque to see him, the real him.

But, of course, Macaque couldn't see him, not really, and that wasn't his fault.

How had even been expecting Macaque to react after springing this on him with no warning? Tenderly look at his red eyes and scarred face before dropping his own glamours and admitting he'd wanted to do this for just as long? In what universe was that ever going to happen?

"No... No, it's not. Sorry, I was being dumb. Got worked up over nothing."

Macaque said nothing for a long moment before he asked, "Were you expecting me to drop my glamours in response?"

He hunched in on himself, feeling guilty, "No. I mean, I... I hope one day you might want to but I just... Forget it, it was dumb. I'm sorry."

Macaque sighed before he moved to sit beside him, tail curling around his, "Tell me about what your glamours were hiding. I can vaguely see red on your face where there isn't normally any but that's about it. Tell me."

And he did and it was unbelievably cathartic to talk about the things he'd hidden and why. He'd never spoken to anyone about the furnace before, or the fear the circlet had instilled in him even long after it was removed, or the number of times he'd bitten off his tongue while trapped under the mountain - anything a welcome distraction from the nothingness that awaited him every waking hour.

Just seeing his various scars wouldn't have revealed the real him to Macaque. Not like knowing the stories behind them and how they made him feel did. He felt rung out by the time he was done, tiredly leaning against Macaque's shoulder as he admitted, "I think I needed that a lot more than I realised."

Macaque kissed the top of his head, "I could tell."

A little contritely, he offered, "Sorry for dumping all that on you. I... Well, if you ever want to return the favour... Not that I'm saying you have to. I just... Y'know..."

Macaque sighed, "You want to see me without my glamours."

It wasn't a question but he responded anyway, "I won't lie and say I don't but I don't want you to take them off just because of me. If you don't feel ready for me to see or talk to me about everything... I get it."

"Wukong..." He seemed to fight with himself for a moment, "My scars aren't like yours. They're not just a mark with a story. They're... I don't even need my eyes or to be able to feel to know they've disfigured me. Trust me, the glamours are best staying in place."

If he didn't need his eyes or touch then his scars must have changed the shape of his body. His shadows would be able to pick up any physical change in shape - like, pockmarks or gouges or a missing appendage.

With a depressing amount of certainty, he asked, "You're not just talking about your eye, are you?"

He felt Macaque shake his head, "No. The Lady Bone Demon really did a number on me." He laughed without humour, "Put it this way - I'm not winning any beauty contests any time soon."

Quietly he asked, "What did she do?"

Eventually, Macaque responded, "Close your eyes and give me your hand."

He did and Macaque guided him to his right arm. At first he thought Macaque had forgotten to roll up his sleeve or something but when he realised that wasn't the case he forced his eyes shut tighter in an effort to stop himself from looking.

There was no fur on his arm, and the skin wasn't smooth, it felt almost... warped. Macaque explained unprompted, "Remember, when she "lent" me some of her power? Back during the whole Samadhi Fire fiasco? Well anywhere her ice touched is like this. My arm, my side, my head... my face..."

He took a breath and slowly moved his hand up, giving Macaque a chance to stop him. It came to rest on his cheek and Wukong could feel the damage. He followed it round to the side of his head and his breath caught when he reached his ears. All three of them, "burnt" by the Lady Bone Demon's magic.

He used the last of his restraint to say, "Macaque. If you don't want me to see, put your glamours back up now." He paused for five seconds to give him the chance to do so and then he sat up and swung a leg over Macaque's so he straddled his lap. He was a terrible mix of disappointed and relieved that Macaque had taken him up on his offer to restore his glamours but still he brought his hands to either side of his face, unconsciously gentler on the right.

His chest roiled with fury, injustice and agony but spitting vitriol at the Lady Bone Demon would achieve nothing. He would wait until he was alone, somewhere where it didn't matter what crumbled under his hands, to work through those emotions. He chose to focus on who was in front of him, that was what was important right now.

But what could he say? That he wished that he could undo all the damage? That he would give anything for none of this to have happened in the first place? That he hated how much he had suffered because of events that he had put in motion? It may have all been true but what good would saying as much do? He couldn't change what had happened, neither of them could.

He felt Macaque tentatively lay his hands on his thighs and of all the feelings that he invoked in him, one was almost overwhelming in it's intensity.

It was almost punched out of him, "I love you." He felt Macaque's grip tighten at the gentle declaration, "And I..." He took a breath, "If this is how you want me to see you then... That's ok. But I need you to know that how you look doesn't make a difference to how I feel about you. You don't have to hide any part of yourself, not out of fear that it would make me love you any less, at least."

Macaque looked down, an almost guilty expression on his face, "Wukong... I... I want to believe you but..."

It hurt but he could understand. His words meant little, he'd proven that to Macaque time and time again when they were younger.

He placed a soft kiss over Macaque's ruined eye, "I know. Actions speak louder than words. So I'll prove it to you. Every day from now until the end of eternity. I won't run, I won't falter, we're in this together. No matter what."

Macaque wrapped his arms around him and buried his face against his chest, and Wukong didn't hesitate to hold him back just as tightly, a little wetly he heard Macaque whisper, "You don't know how badly I want that to be true..."

He swore to himself he was going to prove to Macaque it was. He was going to make good on his promise of forever. No matter what.

--Chapter End--

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