#it's the little things that just amounted to one massive distaster

[unsoundnovel]

THE IRON BULL: BG3 VERSE.

MARQUESS HISSRAD of AVERNUS. son of DUKE ARIQUN, under ARCHDUCHESS ZARIEL

known formally and informally as: THE IRON BULL.

like if interested in interacting in this verse, u know the drill!

CAMBION. the son of a TYMORA tiefling priestess turned ZARIEL worshipper, and DUKE ARIQUN, who came to her when her Goddess seemed to abandon her.

THE IRON BULL performs many tasks. He’s a General in The Blood War, who happens to have enough charm to form alliances between warlords. He’s hand of his Father—who is hand himself to ZARIEL, though he constantly schemes against her. But The Iron Bull is known far and wide throughout the Hells for two things besides the massive amounts of demons he’s slain. His time spent in Abriymoch—the legendary Pleasure City of Plegythos—where his performance and gambling habits were just as legendary—and his fabulous grift on the surface.

His Mother, leader of a band of Zariel cultists—go around from Temple to temple, pillaging, fighting, in search of new adventures and the spoils of them they were never given by Tymora. In comes her special, big little boy in the guise of a tiefling—to whisper you sweet nothings and sweet promises to the desperate and the needy. Your God couldn’t help you. But I can, my Father can, Zariel can.

The warlocks under The Bull’s charge are called, well, THE CHARGERS. Between you and him, his Father has a distaste for how lenient Bull is with the mortals. He mourns when they die, he helps them live well beyond their means, and he treats them well. Some even think of him as a friend, a lover, or a Father.

The Krem of the crop help their friends make more contracts with Bull.

They know what happens, when they die. They’re willing to serve under him in Hell, too.

Bull doesn’t know at what point that started to mean something to him.

For this reason, he prefers the selfish, evil bastards like himself.

There are a few potential ways to recruit him. The easiest way is, of course, getting into contact with the mercenary band, THE CHARGERS, who are currently tasked with shuffling the Tieflings from Elturel to Baldur’s Gate. The fact that they’re connected to a devil is secret—but after Wyll is transformed, and Raphael has revealed himself, The Chargers will offer up their secret—the secret they think will help you defeat The Goblins. Dad Bull will help you, for no price—as long as The Chargers are with you, and he can “get one over on that prick Raphael.” The fact that he’s really here to keep an eye on you, Wyll, Raphael, his investment in his lovable gang, and this whole Elder brain situation…. well, that’s just a bonus.

The second way is for an evil-aligned or evil-aligned party, where you either kill The Chargers along with the grove, or they are all killed some other way, and you meet The Iron Bull in an abandoned house of Tymora in the Shadowlands. He pretends to be praying. And maybe he sincerely is grieving. But he’s mostly there to charm you and seduce you, at very low cost to himself. He offers to join your party—this time, in place of Wyll, as Mizora/Zariel was using Wyll to spy on the party. You can make a pact with him—or you can not, but he’s here to see this adventure through, to the end.

Also, he likes to dress as a priest, because Hot Priest! He lives for the Drama.

#::tibby cw #::da cw #::bg3 cw

[monster--boyfriend]

@anthonypanics tagged me in this and then I promptly drafted it and forgot. But what's more tumblr than that? Also these things are just fun and feel like classic old school tumblr

were you named/named yourself after anyone?

I did in fact name myself and yes all three names were after someone or something. The first, Jasper, was after the Steven Universe character and no I don't regret that. She was and still is massively important to me as a character. My middle name, Aspen, I chose as well. I really wanted some kind of tree and after looking at a lot of symbolism behind various trees, the Aspen stuck with me. Of it's many different historical meanings, strength through diversity stuck with me the most. My last name, which I also changed, I took from my grandmother. It was her maiden name. I always admired it, always liked how it felt so much closer to what little culture I have, and so I took it. And as an extra little treat just for me, my initials spell Jam. Which I want so bad to be my nickname but no one has ever picked up on it.

when was the last time you cried?

I can't even remember? I think maybe it was last year? It happens so rarely now it's hard to remember. Medication is a magical thing

do you have kids?

No and I don't think I'll ever be able to parent any on my own. I would like to but I just don't think that I could possibly afford to care for any kid by myself. I'd need a partner who wanted to parent as well.

do you use sarcasm a lot?

I had to think about this because I actually think I'm slightly less sarcastic than I used to be. Like I'm still very sarcastic but I don't always default to it

what's the first thing you notice about people?

If we're not talking about like, visual aspects, then the first thing I almost always figure is if someone is some level of geek or nerd or the likes. I stand out enough visually that I will have people comment on my outfit very often in public. The way they comment tells me a lot about them in most cases. People who are some kind of nerd or even sort of in some kind of fandom, will likely recognize something on me and comment on it Or sometimes they will comment on something else and it can tell me that while they might not be fannish folk, they have similar political ideas as me. Or even inversely just the look I get from others tells me they find something if not everything about me distasteful.

what's your eye colour?

I'm sorry, I'm a blue eye haver

any special talents?

I have a fairly good sense of direction and learn the layout of places very quickly. I'm generally really good at not getting lost or if I do get lost, figuring out how to get unlost pretty easily.

scary movies or happy endings?

If I could only pic ONE I'd probably end up taking the scary movie. A lot of my favourite have been in the realm of horror lately so

where were you born?

Vancouver, BC. Lived here my whole life. Probably gonna die here too unless I somehow acquire a large amount of money. In which case I'll just move to Vancouver Island.

what are your hobbies?

I do be enjoying drawing again recently. But I also like sewing and I'm learning to embroider. I also love gardening and foraging. Cycling as well.

have any pets?

what sport do you play/have you played?

When I was in 4th grade? I think it was 4th, I played soccer at recess but that's about it. I wasn't in any organized sports. I was however briefly in gymnastics, dance, modelling, swimming, and I took piano lessons.

how tall are you?

I don't know, I think 5'5"? I'm not actually sure anymore.

dream job?

I don't even know. I don't think my body could do the kind of work I would find actually fulfilling and enjoyable now. But also some of that factory work on How It's Made looks good.

I'll tag @queerrbyrd @nebelung-dragon @umberisk @avoidingdestiny @cosmichorrorcocoa @mind-altering-bugs @minecraftgender @eispeon aaand that's all the mutuals I can remember off the top of my head but feel free to anyone do it and say I tagged you I'm tagging you in my mind

[heartisamusclethesizeofyourfist]

tell me the ana mardoll discourse 👀

Oh, that really sucked. Lengthy rant incoming, because this is one of those discourses that sucks up about six different issues and tangles them all up, and it continues to nag away at me in all sorts of ways. I've been trying to find a way to write about it here for a while, and it's been rattling around unproductively in my head, so I appreciate you providing me the spur to finally do it... maybe this will be the thing that finally lets me stop worrying at it. I suspect the tone's going to be all over the place.

*

So, about a month or so back, Ana Mardoll, a prominent social justice commentator on Twitter, turns out to be working for Lockheed Martin. Cue an absolute screaming flood of people delighted to see him knocked off his supposed moral high ground (like, huge amounts of glee, that don't quite feel in keeping with their supposed concern about the victims of Lockheed Martin weaponry)...

Because here's the thing; Mardoll gets people's backs up in the way people who talk about social justice stuff often do, but also for reasons that include ableism and transphobia and just sheer aesthetic distaste for how he expresses himself about his identities (idk, that was cited weirdly often in the celebrations of his downfall; it's bad enough to work for arms makers, but if you work for arms makers and you're a bit twee then God help you).

It also wasn't independent of the increasing backlash against neurodivergent people and the confidence we've gained as a community in talking about our stuff publicly. I'd noticed for ages that a lot of people moaned about him in terms that suggested his Twitter presence caused them significant ongoing rage, yet somehow they couldn't bring themselves to use the mute or block tools to free themselves from the sight of him. There was a lot of hate reading going on, is what I'm thinking.

But most of all, the people enjoying his reputation getting tanked tended to skate over the (well known and constantly referenced) fact that his job only came out when he got doxxed by a noted hate site as part of a lengthy saga of transphobic harassment (they'd gone after his family, even) - i.e. the people currently chasing keffals around the world, and who spend their time targeting autistic and trans people for harassment and - sometimes successfully - baiting them into suicide.

Normally left wing people are against doxxing, and against this website full of TERFs, Nazis and generally dodgy people, but re: Mardoll they were falling over themselves to ignore their principles, which was ironic because they were mad at him for ignoring his own principles. And of course that must've been a huge win for the hate site, as it showed them that if they picked a hated enough target, they'd get very little blowback, at least from cis people .

Moreover, the rush to cancel Mardoll on Twitter employed a great deal of ableist rhetoric which felt horribly familiar from the past decade-plus of UK media/Tory discourse on disability, work and benefits.

Basically, the Twitterati instantly assumed everything Mardoll was saying about his limited capacity for work, struggles finding suitable work, general income and financial stability was fake, and in the light of that assumption, they also tore to shreds things about him that were contextually unsurprising for a part-time working, disabled, self-published writer, i.e. his having a few income streams such as a Ko-fi, publishing stuff, and indeed crowdfunding for mortgage payments. There was a general assumption that he must be loaded, with self-publishing used to claim both that he was a failure and that he was raking in the cash.

They also made up daft strings of illogic, like "he says 'boy' in his profile; a boy is under 20 and therefore he is doing a massive con where he's posing as a nineteen-year-old" - which was a trip to read as an older Millennial who remembers Mardoll being a prominent early-2010s feminist blogger (and not being six years old at the time). That's easily verified with Google, but people were too perversely hungry for the situation to be somehow worse than "social justice guy works for an arms maker" to bother doing so.

And maybe everyone's worst suspicions about Mardoll are right; maybe I'm being desperately naive here. But I do know that people have been conditioned to think that disabled people are lying about work/money stuff, and they had no interest in considering how that default atmosphere of suspicion and condemnation around disabled people and work as a subject might well have made it harder for him to reach out to his online networks about seeking less morally compromising work . Or in the fact that the way the conversation was playing out was making a ton of other disabled people feel it was unsafe for us to speak about our own work or financial situations.

And c) surprise surprise, leftist Twitter then turns on disabled people when we point out that it's already bad enough the guy works for LM, but as he's highlighted that family connections were the only way he'd been able to get part-time, work-from-home gig that paid enough, then maybe there needs to be a bit of nuance in how we talk about this, and could they please bring this level of energy to actually improving material conditions of disabled people?

Don't get me wrong; I don't want to absolve Mardoll of working for flipping Lockheed Martin for fifteen entire years. I think there's definite questions a lot of us need to ask ourselves about what we're prepared to compromise on morally for our livelihoods, and for how long, and whether we're really as completely stuck as we think we are, or there might be chinks of light and possibility and it's only that the traumas of surviving an ableist world have beaten out of us the capacity to trust in them. (I know, like a lot of disabled people, a thing or two about feeling stuck.)

I found it disingenuous how people were ignoring that these questions of ethics in the job market bite disabled people a hell of a lot harder and more quickly than they do abled people, and it was so clear to me that the way it exploded on Twitter was incredibly counterproductive and 75% about the lulz/snark for a lot of people.

Treating Mardoll as the Absolute Worst also doesn't sit right to me when so many people on both sides of the Atlantic are government workers: how do you decide how much better working for a government with policies that do harm at home and abroad is than licensing software for an arms manufacturer, as Mardoll has been doing? Is it ever morally acceptable to work in HR for the DWP, given their persecution of disabled people? What about being an admin assistant at an asylum seeker detention centre? Are your hands clean if you profit from providing goods or services to the Tory MPs who devote their lives to policies that are killing people? Might a lot of people in fact need this stuff to be discussable?

And people really didn't want to know when we pointed out that, while fifteen years of being unable to get anything else does raise questions, ableist recruitment practices are incredibly common, many workplaces fail to offer disability accommodations, and it costs more to be disabled to start with.

Having watched at close range as disabled loved ones stuck for many years with employers that treated them like shit, because chucking the job in felt too risky, I don't find Mardoll's decision to sit tight all that surprising. Of course there are disabled people who courageously cling to their principles no matter what the personal cost, but the cost the bear will be a damn sight steeper than it would be for a non-disabled person, and that doesn't make them extra principled, it just makes this ableist world extra shit.

And the refusal to explore those questions when Twitter had recently spent months discussing recent US labour relations upheavals (for perspective, someone recently was said to have been digging for dirt on whoever runs the Jorts account), the politicisation of work-from-home arrangements, the risks to disabled people forced back into workplaces/universities/schools in person, trans healthcare being under threat, the more general healthcare costs/access mess in the US, the medical risks for women and AFAB people of living/working in certain states after the fall of Roe...

On my timeline, there was also a lot of Extremely Sudden Concern About Weaponry and Colonialism from British lefties who I had never once seen give a flying fuck about colonialism's equally real outworkings right here on their doorstep, i.e. Boris Johnson's ongoing efforts to absolve the British army of their Troubles atrocities, the disproportionate harm being done to Northern Ireland by Brexit, or the fact we literally don't have a functioning Executive right now: indeed, that's a common enough problem in Northern Ireland that this website exists:

https://HowLongHasNorthernIrelandNotHadAgovernment.com/

It was revealing to watch Twitter lefties well-actuallying disabled people about all the deaths and disabilities Lockheed Martin weapons have caused like that was some sort of gotcha; like nobody with a Twitter account could possibly have grown up in a conflict zone, or been disabled in a bombing, or live in a place where bombings and shootings still happen.

Like none of us lives in a place with a complicated peace, with the UK's highest rates of physical disabilities/chronic illnesses and mental health problems, of unemployed disabled people, and with suicides among kids who don't even remember the conflict, all problems you can't untangle from the fact this is a post-conflict society where social progress was stunted for so long. A place where the writer of that last piece was herself murdered a few years ago, because it still fucking happens in peacetime. Because the violence hasn't really gone away, not entirely. And nor has the violence of the state.

Anyway, that's why I can't get the Ana Mardoll discourse out of my head.

#a saga #tw: ableism #tw: transphobia #tw: suicide #replies to asks #the discourse

[ask-buddy-lewek]

[More of the Bill and Buddy Lifeswap AU ideas!]

•Buddy discovering that he has an immense distaste for Alcoholic beverages (they’re gross and taste more like chemicals then something you’d drink because you enjoy it), but having to swallow his opinions (quite literally) and just kinda get used to being offered drinks at Bill’s father’s parties, he usually dumps them into a bush or something if no one’s looking because he isn’t going to drink it if he can avoid doing so. (He probably did attend some event once where he couldn’t do that and ended up getting a bit tipsy, probably the first and only time he’d ever allowed that to happen)

•Bill learning very quickly just how loud and noisy the city can be at night, finding it hard to fall asleep the first night or two because the street lights are in his eye or the sound of the people outside are too noisy, but not wanting to be rude and offend anyone, especially Bud’s Family, he probably just silently puts up with it, maybe eventually he finds comfort in it toward the end of their swap

•Adversely, Bud isn’t used to it being so dark and quite at night, or even during the day, he also isn’t used to having so much space all to himself (I’d imagine Bill’s room is rather luxurious)

•Bill having to get used to the smells and claustrophobia of living in a place like the Lower East Side, taking public transportation with random strangers (maybe not an entirely massive shock to Bill, but I can’t imagine he’d take a subway very often to get from point A to Point B back in Atlantic City)

•meanwhile If Bud explained that he could “just hail a cab or walk” to wherever he was going, he’d probably get the oddest glances from the house staff, but somehow the idea of being driven places personally makes him a bit uneasy and anxious… (especially if it were a place within a reasonable walking distance or something)

•Bud not used to being served a fancy full multiple course meal for breakfast, Lunch, or Dinner and actually getting extremely intimidated by the idea that there’s this whole process and order to what people eat, which things they eat first, and when they eat one thing verses another, he’d probably feel bad for not finishing something and offer to finish it later for the next meal only for the staff to look at him so confused like “it’s not a problem, really…” but Bud having grown up in a place where wasting food was not an option, doesn’t want to do the same, at the very least he doesn’t want to seem rude to whoever made the food by not finishing it, but being assured “if you don’t like it we can make something else”, which only blows his mind a bit further (“I can’t waste your food because I didn’t like it, that would be rude”)

•Where as Bill only being shocked and sort of heartbroken once he realizes how little the Leweks can spend on things like basic groceries, but just absolutely making a point to thank Irena for whatever food she made him. Even if he wasn’t fond of what she made he makes sure to eat every bite because the idea of not wasting food like that becomes very clear to him very quickly. (Also he absolutely respects the amount of culture and hard work goes into making these dishes and he just loves how even if it’s simple, it’s somehow just as filling as any meal he’d eat at home)

•Buddy being absolutely beyond mind blown just how much energy it takes to be able to actually just get through a regular day in such a fancy lifestyle. The constant upkeep of appearances and constantly having to look his best or act in a way that feels so beyond fake to him. The amount of energy it is to just stand around a party and pretend like he doesn’t want to be anywhere else, and wondering if Bill ever had any trouble with keeping up such an exhausting act nearly 24/7.

•Bill having to actually really downplay where he’s from, maybe certain mannerisms or habits that he’d subconsciously developed growing up and being taught that you have to put on a show for everyone, only to see just how down to earth and absolutely humble and genuine the people in Bud’s apartment complex are. They aren’t afraid to be real with you about their struggles or share stories about things they’d experienced before coming to the US, maybe Bill learning that not everything in life has to be this grand act for people, and while I imagine he’s always felt this way, being around people that aren’t entirely fake about their lives to impress others, I’d imagine he’d find it so humbling and eye opening…

•The kids in Bud’s neighborhood teaching Bill how to play Stickball and Bill having the time of his life learning this new game (I’d imagine he’d actually be somewhat good at it, maybe not a natural but he enjoys it so much)

[if any more ideas come to be, I’ll be sure to share em!]

#bendy and the ink machine #adrienne kress #batim dreams come to life #batim: dctl #buddy lewek #batim the lost ones #batim: the lost ones #bill chambers BATIM #bendy novels

[the-time-bandit]

It is that time of the year again...in memory of everyone that was lost when the RMS Titanic sank.

#i'll never not be sad about the Titanic #so much could have been done to avoid it #it's the little things that just amounted to one massive distaster #and it makes me sad #so much loss of life because of several little mistakes

[stickynotestoletters]

Izuku x Male Reader Smut

I'm a dirty slut, so .... yeah

Women DNI please :3

Warnings: you push friend boundaries in the fic but Izuku likes it so it's fine, bottom reader, top izuku, buff tan izuku, big tiddy izuku, God kink apparently, degradation, he calls you puppy, a bit of simp Izuku, breeding kink

Izuku wasn't a simp, okay? He was kind, he was courteous and pleasant to be around! But he always had boundaries with his friends and loved ones. Well....until he met you.

You see, Izuku had a not-so-obvious crush on you (shut it Bakugou). Ever since he met you at UA he kind of let you push any and all boundaries that he had put in place with his friends.

Now don't get the wrong idea! At first, when you both met in your first year at UA it was just little stuff! Like, using his clothes or borrowing a pillow. I mean that's what friends are for right? At least that’s what you told him.

He thought maybe he just needed to chill out and let loose his rules a bit. So you were a little friendlier about how you acted around him as opposed to your other friends, so what?

He could make an exception this once and that would be it!

But then you started getting even more comfortable.

And it was good! He was happy you were comfortable around him! It made his heart fly!

You were being a little touchier with him and it was just friendly stuff. Laying your head on his shoulder and in his lap or even just stroking his hair while you cuddle, but that's fine!

He likes it, he always has and always will!

You ask permission the first time you do these things and how could he resist sitting in the arms of a gorgeous man like you?

Then it stays that way for a while a little after UA.

You get a little bold every once in a while after that but it's nothing he can't handle.

He's working out and doing hero work so he has more things to focus on than his not so little crush anymore.

Even if he stays up at night thinking about all those touches. Thinking about your chapped lips and smooth skin beneath his hands. Thinking about your hands and how much he likes them. Likes them in his hair, massaging his shoulders. How much more he would like them if you tangled them in his hair and pull on it as he's fucking you into his mattress. How much he'd then like it for you to yell and scream his name as he absolutely pounds you into his sheets. How much he wants you to cry and scream his name until the neighbors bring noise complaints and you have a sore throat the next day from it.

So yeah. He doesn't have the time.

Until one night you show up to his door. It's late, almost 4 in the morning, about 2 hours after he comes home from his agency, and he just hears these little knocks on the door. He thinks it's the rain at first until he gets a text from you asking him if he's up and if you could come in.

He's almost dressed and ready for bed but for you, he'd sacrifice any amount of sleep to make sure you're okay at any time of the night.

He opens his door to find you drenched from the rain. And he means soaked. You're shivering in these nice little skinny jeans and a white T-shirt. You're sobbing and your hair is spilling water onto his doormat. "Hey Izuku, is it-is it okay if I come in?"

He can hear just how congested you are, it seems like you've been crying for a while. "Yeah, just let me-let me get you a towel, are you okay?" You start sobbing in front of him and he gives you the towel as he comes back."Never mind, that was obviously a stupid question, come on in and go get a shower."

You're nice and warm by the time you come back to the kitchen, he's made you shower and given you some food. So now you two sit down on his couch and he holds you close to him. he's not saying anything and neither are you, but you know he wants you to talk about it."So, I kinda had a breakdown about some relationship stuff right now." You guys laughed at the obviousness of it.

"Did you want to talk about it?" He looks at you laying down on his chest, tangling your legs with his, in his shirt, in his pants. God he wished you would-

"Kinda, I don't have to if you don't want me to." He shook his head to the sides and you sighed deeply," I knew you would say that, okay, it's kinda embarrassing if I'm being honest."

He laughed at you, "Nothing could be more awkward and embarrassing for me to listen to than when you told me, in detail, about your crush on Bakugou." You contorted your face in distaste at him and he just kept laughing.

"Bakugou is hot and I stand by all that I said asshole." You shook your head. "But I was very embarrassing."

It got quiet again and you put your face in the crook of his neck. "So, I figured out that I ....fuck okay so...." You move back to face him and stare at him in the eyes. "Don't laugh but I realized I only want a sexual relationship with someone at the moment. I started crying because I felt like I'd been lying to myself and I've just been under a lot of stress lately." Your blush is not less bright than his at all and he can't do anything but avoid your pretty little face looking at him than to push you into his chest and look up at his wonderfully beautiful ceiling he's never had the time to admire before this.

"You could have said that to me without the weird eye contact but whatever, go on."

You laugh hysterically, a little high on your emotions, "Okay hear me out. I'm a hero right? And using a loved one as leverage is a very classic villain plan. So I thought that was why I didn't want a relationship. Now I figured out it's just the stress! I want something like that eventually but right now? I just want something with someone to destress."

You move your head up to look at him and he moves his hand away from the back of your head, his emotions are going haywire right now. What is he supposed to say to that??? Do you want him to find someone for you to hook up with or???? And then he realizes-"I am not setting you up with Bakugou-"

"-OH MY GOD SHUT UP ABOUT IT ALREADY IT WAS A ONE-TIME THING." You shake your head and laugh incredulously at him. "I'm allowed to be attracted to people who aren't good for me okay? Is it really that bad?" Izuku rolls his eyes at you, "Yes. Yes, it is."

You roll your eyes back at him," Whatever that's not what I wanted to ask anyway." you scooch up onto his chest a bit more and put your hands under your chin as you look into his eye with your best pleading face." Would you do me the honor of being my destresser?"

He could explode right now.

Like seriously what?

".....You want me to what now???"

"Would you rather I phrase it differently?"

"To make sure we're on the same page yes-"

"Fuck the stress out of me buff man."

"Jesus Christ." He practically lifts you off of him like a doll,"If you were going to prank me like this," he sets you onto his couch and walks to his bathroom to go wash the heat off his face, "do it over text next time."

You follow him into the bathroom," It's not a prank! I'm for real okay? Look-" he looks puts his head further near the sink, he doesn't want you to see his red face,"-the way I see it is we're both busy as fuck. We both are mature adults looking for something intimate, which you have not found yet may I add, that could both put someone in danger otherwise." He scrubs his face and takes a deep breath, turning his water off and looking at you calmly.

"Okay, first of all, fuck you. Second of all, why me then?" He knows he shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth but he's not going to do this if it's just for the fun. He wants to actually mean something to you other than someone to fuck. "You could have chosen any one of our other friends. So why me?"

You grab his hands and lift them to your lips,"Izuku, I care about you so much. You're one of my closest and best friends in the entire world and I am so lucky to have you. You have supported me in any way you possibly could, and I hope that I've done the same for you. So I want us to support each other as much as we need in this." You look him in the eyes," Plus you could snap me in half and are one of the only people I could fight that has the stamina to keep going at me."

".....you're so fucking lucky I like you. Fine! Okay fine."

"YES!"

So for the rest of the night(morning?), you two plan out how this is going to work. Rules, boundaries, kinks (by god he's going to need a break), and what times you guy can and can't.

It works well actually. Better than Izuku expected. He's just ecstatic he gets to finally hold you.......until he doesn't.

Now Izuku knows you two discussed boundaries and the fact you can call each other practically any time but for the next week, he seriously couldn't get the mind power to just swallow his fears and call you up. Not to say he wasn't thinking of you, by god he did that every single day even more since then, he just didn't want to bother you.

But then you called him. It was 11 pm and you were very horny. He picked up the phone and immediately just, "Hello?"

"I need you to plow me into my mattress it's been a week, come over as soon as you can, I'll be waiting sir-"

And that was the end of the call. Your house is like 20 minutes away from his but he somehow made it there in 10. He didn't even text you he was coming, so you thought he was busy.

So you were just on your couch, scrolling on your phone until a rushed knock at the door, you opened it, and were immediately kissed on the mouth.

Just a whole ass surprise makeout, he holds you up in his arms and pushes you against the door. You pull away to breathe and just look down to see this large monster of a man pressing his massive chest to yours, heaving so out of breath like he'd just ran a marathon (he practically did). Just staring up at you so desperately, you're not going to lie it was a nice view. You laugh a bit hysterically as he kisses you repeatedly. Then he works his way to your neck, still holding you up with his arms but fondling your chest and ribcage. He nips your neck and sucks so hard you're sure to have some nice little hickies in the morning. You moan as he pulls on your nipples and rubs your pecs in his hands.

Your mind goes fuzzy as you hear him whisper, "Dirty little slut left me with nothing after your little call. Think it was funny?" He kisses your neck again, licking down to your collar bone, "Think it's funny to leave me with nothing? Just the thought of this dirty little pup begging me to come over?"

You moan into a laugh at the fact he seems more desperate for this than you are. "Laughing now are we?" You immediately quiet down, his hands travel to your waist, and grinds his leg into your crotch.

"Oh gods-" He pushes into you again as you moan,"-f-fuck!"

"Damn puppy. Didn't know you had such a dirty little mouth. Why don't you show me how you use that little mouth when I actually get started with you."

He takes you into your bedroom, pressing your hard dick against his own and sucking on your neck even more.

You pant heavily onto his shoulder shaking from anticipation as he brings you into your room.

He pushes you down on the bed into a folded missionary position. You're hazy and in hysterics, as he talks more, "God, look at you! What a fucking slut for me. Come on puppy look me in the eyes and tell me what you want."

You look up and his smile is devious. It's alluring. He's practically ravishing you with his eyes. He’s taking your clothes off and feeling you up, “Your tastey skin, so smooth and soft. Do you know what I’m gonna do to it puppy?” Your head is swimming with full unbridled warmth and lust, you can’t even respond so he takes your face in his hands and makes you look at him,” I’m gonna mark you up so well, give you all the hickies and bites I want to put on you until you’re barely unbruised. How does that sound?”

You yell out, “Yes! YES! Puppy will be good for you please? Want it so bad.” He laughs at your responses, leaving your naked body vibrating on the bed and he moves away to take his own clothes off. His toned muscles flexing without meaning to as he takes his shirt and pants off of himself. Sliding his boxers down his toned calfs.

You stay laying there, letting out hysteric laughs and panting as he stretches you out with his fingers. And he keeps his promise, biting and niping all over your thights and stomach. You fall from your hysterical high as he pulls his mouth away until he takes your dick in his mouth and you’re pushed all the way back up the hill, arching your back and crying out for him as you grab the head board.

God you haven’t been so sensitive since you don’t even remember when. He’s sucking you off and his fingers are reaching just the right spots in you. Sliding onto his fingers down to the knuckle of his pointer and middle finger, flexing and massaging just the right spot, just until he takes a deep breathe. Then he takes all of you into his mouth and presses down on your most sensitive spot,” OH GOD, FUCK! Yes~ IZUKU PLEASE, I’M CUMMING!”

You cream into his mouth so hard. He pulls himself up off the mattress and off your dick once he finished sucking it all out of you. He licks the rest off his lips and hums in delight,” You taste better then I’ve ever imagined.” Ah, you blush so red as he said this. You think to yourself, he was just saying it for dramatic effect. For the moment! It couldn’t possibly be true....

God if only you knew how true that is from him.

He pulls some of the excess cum off your dick and you shiver a bit at his fingers grazing your tip. His magic hands. And he brings them to lube his dick back up,” Gonna fill my puppy with their own cum, how about it, slut?”

His eyes are crazy, this is a whole new side of Izuku you’ve never seen from him. And by the gods above are you excited to see it.

He presses your legs down so they’re almost flat by your arms and climbs up halfway atop your thighs. He slides himself into you and,” f-f-UCK!” He’s fucking huge.

Your partners have been quite average in the past. Nothing to scoff at but not as big as Izuku. You feel lightheaded as he pushes himself all the way in. “Look at you, my pathetic little puppy, breaking on my dick. Not even halfway there pup, but I’ll be nice this time.” He stops and you thank god and curse at him as well. You feel like you’re gonna be ripped apart yet you still crave so much more.

He gives you a second to catch your breathe, then he leans over, presses your legs farther, and starts pounding into your pretty little hole. Absolutely destroying your insides. You’re crying and whimpering and all it does is drive him to go faster and harder. To milk all those pretty little sounds out of your pretty little mouth. You’re crying on his dick and it fuels his ego,” You’re crying already? God look at you, so pretty and stupid on my dick. Such a good useless pup. Never had dick this good. Are you seeing god or something pup?”

His smirk is returned with teary eyes looking up at him, drooling at him,” Ye-ugh fUck-yes God, love your dick so much.” Oh fuck. That’s new.

It was so hot, imagining you praying and worshipping “your God’s” dick. Izuku being rode by you as you cry out for your God.

He laughs hard and leans down to get a better grip on the sheets, stopping for a moment, and then pounding you into the mattress. It felt like he was trying to hammer you down into the mattress to press you hard enough you’d become one with it. “That’s right baby! Ahaha! You feel so good I’m your god? My little puppy’s so dumb on their god’s dick right?”

You cry out to him, repeating over and over,” God! My God! Please god!” And you cum hard, over and over on his dick for the rest of the night. Orgasming and being fucked through your over sensitivity again and again and again until dawn. He finally gives in after getting his fill of filling you up.

God, he was definitely the right one to go to.

And all Izuku could think about you as he cleaned up and got ready to go to sleep with you was how fucking thankful he was you broke all his boundries for him. And accepting the fact that yes, he is the biggest simp for you.

————

-Laika

#Izuku smut #deku smut #x male reader smut #Deku x male reader smut #Izuku x male reader smut #bnha top izuku smut #bnha top deku smut #top izuku smut #top deku smut #bottom male reader smut

[chanluster]

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

oneshot | friends with benefits! au | 18.7k words

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hyunjin.”

Don’t say it, girl! Don’t you dare!

“It’s...it’s not you.”

You put your hand on your heart. 

“It’s me.”

Oh, Jesus.

Your eyes raised to his own, wide and glistening. 

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

Face it, ____. You’re done for.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were almost delighted to let Hwang Hyunjin go.

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

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

It was partly you as well.

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

CHRIS THE PISS :

bitch have you done it?

CHRIS THE PISS :

helloooooo??

CHRIS THE PISS :

hoe answer the phone i’m dying!! 

CHRIS THE PISS :

or prolly hyunjin at this moment lmaooo

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

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

CHRIS THE PISS :

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

CHRIS THE PISS :

unless this is hyunjin and u killed her FUCK

CHRIS THE PISS :

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

YOU :

chan i will kill u :)

CHRIS THE PISS :

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

CHRIS THE PISS :

that was ur girl putting words in my mouth 

YOU:

omfg chan STFUUU i’m coming

CHRIS THE PISS :

PLS HYUNJIN I SWEAR UR SEXC

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

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

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

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

You cursed at the man who welcomed you.

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

“Sad it didn’t kill you off, then.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, we’re getting Indian.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“____?” 

“No, you’re not having any of mine.”

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

“Shoot.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh my God.”

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

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

Your mouth dropped.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Let’s do it, Chan.”

His hand went limp in your hold.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He had all the time in the world for this.

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

You wanted this as much as he did. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Just like your best friend promised.

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

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

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

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

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

“Good girl.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh. My. Fucking. God.

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

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

You blinked. 

Imagine what he could have done with his dick.

“____?”

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

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

Pride washed over his features. “Good.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He read your every plea. 

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

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

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

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

Nodding, it was all the signal he needed.

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

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

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

Your best friend could see right through you anyway. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Goodnight, Hyuck.” 

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

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

YOU WOKE UP WITH CHAN ALREADY GONE.

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

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

“Oh my God.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

CHRIS THE PISS: 

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

CHRIS THE PISS:

cause im sure asf u can’t walk rn 

You rolled your eyes until it hurt. Stupid prick.

YOU:

i haven’t gotten out of bed actually 

CHRIS THE PISS:

oh damn

CHRIS THE PISS:

i PARALYSED u??

CHRIS THE PISS:

why am i so powerful 

“This asshole,” you muttered. 

YOU:

STFUU COCKY MF

CHRIS THE PISS: 

It’s ok you’ll cute in a wheelchair

YOU:

?!?!?!?!!?!

CHRIS THE PISS:

but tell me 

CHRIS THE PISS:

how good was it

This had you pausing. 

CHRIS THE PISS:

outta ten

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

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

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

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

Again, the situation here was different.

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

YOU:

2/10 :)

You waited for his text.

However, you did not receive it.

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

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

“Now I know you’re lying!”

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

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

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

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

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

God, you could almost feel your nose growing.

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

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

“Shut up, Chan.”

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

“Try me, buddy,” you jeered.

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

“A Hyunjin?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

He did change your life.

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

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

Hopefully tonight.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jisung!”

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

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

“Boo!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The joy was not returned. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He narrowed his eyes. “Share.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Permission to punch him in the face?” 

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

“Fuck.”

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

You played with his curls. “How angry?”

He held onto you tighter. “9/10.”

That certainly made you do a double take. 

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

Of course, because you were his closest friend.

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

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

Suddenly, a very pleasing idea came to mind. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Come here, then,” he guttered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The image had you remembering your Lord and Saviour. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

OF COURSE YOU WERE GOING TO THAT PARTY.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why did you even come here? 

You instantly soured at the thought.

Still, you could not help pondering further.

You should have stayed home. With him.

You groaned out loud.

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

Then were you feeling miserable?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lust. Pure lust swirling in his eyes. 

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

“Oh my God!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck,” you cursed out loud this time. 

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

Were you really just friends? 

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

But...to be more?

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

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

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

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

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

There was a reason he rated it 9/10.

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

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

Stop worrying. Chan is your best friend.

You turned the knob.

Your best friend.

Pushed the door open. Stepped inside.

Right?

“Back so soon?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I know Chan practically adores you.

The memory brought chills all over you again. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Because maybe she liked Jisung all along.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I like you!”

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

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

I like you too.

Well, shit. There it was.

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

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

You had finally told him of your feelings. 

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

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

God, you were such a bitch.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Cum for me, baby.”

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

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

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

All for him. All. For him.

Your best friend’s smile was positively wicked.

“I will completely ruin you, ____.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please, Chan. Please.”

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

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

“Donghyuck!”

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

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

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

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

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

Bang Chan, your very best friend. 

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

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

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

“Cum for me, ____.”

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

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

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

You decided to break the silence first. 

“I’m sorry for saying his name.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Chan!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?”

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

“Chan?”

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

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

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

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

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

He parted his mouth. 

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

You blinked. 

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

“Yes.”

Your best friend paused. 

Turned, ever so slowly, towards you. 

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Shoot.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#stray kids smut #bang chan smut #stray kids oneshot #bang chan imagines #bang chan oneshot #bang chan fluff #bang chan x reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids scenarios #stray kids fluff #stray kids imagines #stray kids dark hours #bang chan dark hours #bang chan hard hours #stray kids hard hours

[daily-dose-of-imagines]

ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴀɴɢᴇʀ ᴀɴ ᴀʀᴄʜᴏɴ | ɢᴇɴꜱʜɪɴ ɪᴍᴘᴀᴄᴛ ; ᴢʜᴏɴɢʟɪ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ᴏɴᴇ - ꜱʜᴏᴛ

Ayo ayo!! It’s been a second hasn’t it? I’m so sorry it’s been a second since I’ve last posted and I do apologize about that ;; I’ve been in a massive writer’s block but also a drawing mood lololol I finally had the feeling to write after drawing a jealous / possessive dragon Zhongli, thus spurring on with where I am now. I hope you all enjoy this as much as I did with writing it!

Art: @ko-ffeine​

>> Admin Ko

“What does today’s commission entail for us?”

Soothing and melodic, the former geo archon’s voice swam into her ears as she briefly glanced back at her companion. It was one of those rare moments gifted to her that she was able to complete some commissions for the adventurer’s guild. After all, being a traveling librarian who focused more on knowledge than combat was much more of her strong suit. 

“It should be something simple. Nothing too hard from what I could gather.” 

A gentle smile was given to the tall male as honey amber hues gazed gently upon her form. Respectable and always the gentlemen, Zhongli stood tall and proud beside the adventuring librarian as the pair leisurely explored the plains of Liyue for the commission spot. When he had first met her, the funeral associate couldn’t help but become enamored by her curious filled eyes. The way she always happened to sought him out for knowledge and genuine respectable curiosity for the information he was able to procure for her.

There was no doubt in anyone’s mind, adeptis or not, that the former archon had become extremely fond of the librarian. Some may even compare it to that of a dragon guarding their beloved treasure. 

“Then I believe if we are to finish this in a timely manner, we could finish our discussion about the historical sights you happened to last visit.” 

Upon seeing her (e/c) shimmer with absolute delight brought a sense of peace into Zhongli’s heart as he couldn’t help but fondly pat her head as she flushed at the endearing action. 

Yet the feeling subsided as they neared the commission sight. Immediately her heart plummeted as she felt the color drain from her face at the familiar sight of an unwanted individual. One that she, disappointedly had the honor of meeting whilst adventuring with Xingqui. 

Having sensed her distress, the male stepped forth almost protectively before her as sweet amber hues turned molten with unbridled rage as he kept his stony gaze on the figure before the pair. 

“There seems to be….a tale of strife here. Do tell me what has happened little one…”

“I…It-’s nothing, c’mon. I think Kathryn won’t be mad if we skip this commission.”

“Did they touch you, Little One?”

“Zhongli….”

“Did those disgusting sewer rats touch you?”

She flinched, the sheer anger that enraptured his words had her gulping as she lightly tugged on his sleeve, her voice soft and desperate to not further escalate the situation as she pleaded with the former archon.

“Please…let’s just go…”

“….Very well.”

Sensing the urgency in her voice, the former god conceded as he turned to face her. The anger in his eyes forcibly subsiding as he hurriedly guided her away before the treasure hoarders could notice. Yet unknown to the librarian, Zhongli had made sure to etch the man’s face into his memory. After all, there was information that had to be gathered. 

Upon the return to the colorful and bustling Oceanside city, (y/n) couldn’t help but breath a sigh of relief. Besides the one commission, everything else had ended rather well. With Zhongli’s strong shield and her own combat style, the commissions ended fairly quickly. 

“Thank you again for your help Mr. Zhongli.”

“Nonsense. I take great pleasure in accompanying you wherever you need it, Little One.” 

The pet name brought a sense of fondness to her heart as she hurriedly turned her gaze away from the liquid honey being poured into her very being as she coughed lightly to distract the male from her reddening cheeks. 

“I really appreciate it…well, I’ll be off then.”

“Hm, returning to Mondstat?”

“That’s correct. It’s been a nice couple of weeks out here in Liyue and I’ve definitely learned a lot from everyone here, but I do need to return to my duties as Lisa’s assistant.”

“I see, well I wish you safe travels back. I do hope that you’ll return soon though. Or else I’ll have to visit the land of the free myself. I do have some acquaintances there after all.”

A light laugh escaped her as she playfully nudged the other. A roll of her (e/c) hues showing nothing but an annoyed fondness as she lightly shook her head.

“Goodness, if I wasn’t so busy I’d think that you’re trying everything in your power to stay by my side Mr. Zhongli.”

“And if I was?”

She waited. A building heat in her veins as she awaited for the handsome man to reply with a joke. Instead of that, she was met with an all serious expression— save for the sweet affection dripping from his amber hues as he brought a hand up to lightly ruffle her hair. Immediately stammering out a flurry of words and rushed goodbyes, the librarian hurriedly bowed before scampering off towards one of the teleportation stations. All the whilst ignoring the fond look and deep chuckle that reverberated from Zhongli’s chest as he watched her scurry off.

Once out of sight, the former archon’s expression went from fond to unbridled anger. The atmosphere around Liyue hurriedly reflecting that of the former archon as darkness enveloped the usually bright lands as Zhongli made his way towards the adventurer’s guide. There, Katheryne easily supplied the terrifying male with the information he desired. Already knowing fully well what was to become of the treasure hoarders that dared to touch his treasure. 

»»————-　　————-««

It had been a week since her return to Mondstat, and if (y/n) was being honest with herself the amount of work thrown upon her had her quickly forgetting the distasteful incident she had faced weeks prior to her return. The disgusting feeling of hands and detestable warm puffs of air against her skin. The mere thought of it alone sent shivers down her spine as she shook off the feeling of disgust as she went about her duties. 

“Now…if I’m correct the next thing on the list is to just give reminders to those who borrowed Ms. Lisa’s books…—ow!”

Yet before she could even begin her search for the current occupants of the various tomes of knowledge a familiar figure loomed before her, causing the librarian to bump straight into a firm chest. Before she could even begin her apologies the stench of blood overwhelmed her as she stumbled backwards to meet familiar golden orbs.

“Ah, I do apologize little one, I hadn’t meant to surprise you…”

“…Zhongli?” 

Finally getting a good look at the former archon she couldn’t help but gasp as she surged forward. His usually crisp and clean outfit was marred in blood and tears, yet in her fervent search for nonexistent wounds, she failed to notice the look of adoration that graced his features. Hesitantly, he peeled off his gloves before a large warm hand found it’s way into her hair as he gently petted her unruly locks to hopefully soothe her anxiety riddled form.

“Fret not little one, I merely disposed of some trash on my way to visit you.”

“…t…rash?”

Confused (e/c) orbs met his own as his hand dropped from the top of her head to lovingly cup her cheek.

“Yes. The trash that dared to create discomfort for you when you and Xingqui had stumbled across in your journey.”

The statement itself brought a sense of dread into her heart as she gulped, knowing fully well how insanely powerful the male was, god or not. 

“D…Did you kill him?”

“No. Though I wish I did, remember our contract little one? I will not break it. Though I do admit, an acquaintance of mine is….educating him as we speak. I merely just gave it a stern talking to.”

Heaving a sigh of relief, (y/n) couldn’t help but slump against the blood muddled archon as she lightly swatted at his chest. The horrors of what could’ve become of the treasure hoarder now long gone— though of course that didn’t keep her from hoping that Zhongli’s ‘acquaintance’ would be merciful. 

“….Thank you, but you didn’t have to Zhongli—-”

“I wanted to. No one should ever make you feel uncomfortable, Little one. As long as I am by your side, this will no longer happen. I promise.”

With a small smile, Zhongli shifted his hand down to hold her own as he lightly kissed the back of it.

“Now, will you please show me your favorite places here in the city of freedom?

#genshin impact x reader #zhongli x reader #genshin impact imagines #zhongli imagines #genshin impact scenarios #zhongli scenarios #genshin x reader #genshin impact reader insert #genshin impact #genshin zhongli #zhongli x you #zhongli reader insert #genshin impact morax #morax x reader #rex lapis #rex lapis x reader

[chubbology]

Overindulged

prompt: feeder boyfriend quits his job and balloons as fat as his feedee/feeder girlfriend

He drove his sleek BMW up his driveway and into the middle garage just as dusk settled into night. He’d stayed overtime at work again, and to make it up to his girlfriend, three dozen fresh assorted donuts sat in the passenger seat.

Sure enough, immediately upon opening the back door with his stack of boxes, he heard her voice: “Late.”

“It’s the end of the month,” he said. “What do you expect? Brought you something though, so don’t be mad. Come in here.”

He set the boxes down on the granite island, then waited, sucking in a breath. His pupils dilated as his favorite person in the world waddled through the wide archway leading into the kitchen. After giving him a pout, she pulled the boxes toward her with arms that hung, at their heaviest, over half a foot with fat.

She was a beautiful, enormous woman. He had met her on a plane three years ago on a business trip to Paris. She’d pulled him into conversation like a warm whirlpool, and he’d listened in awe to her life story: miserable wife of a banker to a happily divorced entrepreneur, flying first class on her own dime.

With a smug, knowing smile, she talked about how she used to be skinny for her ex’s sake and now was free. He couldn’t help but let his gaze roam over her blatantly overweight body. Thighs pressing firm on either armrest of the wide seat, bust prominent and heavy, belly button deep and visible through her dress.

Bad news is, she’d concluded, I just settled a messy lawsuit that lost me my career and nearly bankrupted me. But she shrugged, as if such was life. I’m taking my last-hurrah vacation until I have no choice but to eat tiny, unsatisfying meals again.

He decided that couldn’t come to pass, so he spent as much time with her outside his business obligations as he could, taking her to meal after meal, falling in love as she ate to her heart’s content and shamelessly talked about how she’d rather fallen in love with gaining weight. It titillated and empowered her. By the end of their two week stay in Paris, she was twelve pounds bigger and he had invited her to live with him for a while as she looked for a new career path. She accepted.

Three years later, she’d found her calling without having to leave his luxurious, spacious home. Doing what she loved.

She was almost four hundred and fifty pounds now, last he was updated. She always wore leggings that clung to every lump and bulge of cellulite, and she liked to tease him by wearing crop tops, letting her massive belly and side rolls hang out and wobble as they pleased.

He watched with soft eyes as she stuffed herself with four jelly-filled doughnuts. Between bites she said, “These long hours at your soulless job are no good. My fans want to see more of you.” More eating. “The last time you fed me on camera was weeks ago!”

She gave him an imploring look as she ate a fifth doughnut. Boston creme. Her face, once conventionally pretty, now had a sexy overindulged look. She’d lost her jawline to additional chins and neck fat, and her round, fatty cheeks quivered as she chewed. Even before she finished the fifth doughnut, she picked up a sixth. “And don’t think they haven’t noticed that little tummy you have now.”

“What?” He looked down at himself, blushing at how his tie sat out a bit on slightly stretched white buttons.

Before he could say anything, she pushed a chocolate doughnut in his hand. “I know people willing to pay a pretty petty to see you chunk out.” She smirked. “Pop a couple of those buttons.”

He laughed dismissively, but as he ate the doughnut, he contemplated the press of his new chub against his shirt. His pants felt a little tight in the ass, too, now that he thought about it. What if? he thought.

Suddenly, he found himself admitting: “I’ve been thinking of quitting.”

Her eyebrows rose.

“I want to spend more time with you,” he explained. He hadn’t meant to talk about it now, but here he was. Out of nervousness, he pulled one of the boxes toward himself and picked another doughnut, this one caving in under its sprinkles. He took a heavenly bite. “I have plenty of money saved and invested to take care of both of us for a long time. I just don’t see why I…”

She waddled over to his side of the island and took his free hand. “You know I’d support you.” Then she pulled him closer, into a smiling kiss. “I’ll support you real good.”

*

Before his two week notice even ended, he was eight pounds heavier, and he relished how his coworkers’ eyes lingered on his burgeoning waistline. Soon, his tummy was pushing over his pants. His chest felt thicker. He felt his ass spread wider when he sat down. He ate desserts all the time, and his girlfriend lavished him with attention (food) at every opportunity when he was home, encouraging him to eat in amounts he’d never let himself eat before. She started filming - with his consent, as always - the development of his chubbing up. Her fans loved him even more than they already did, compliments coming in faster than he could read them.

One month into being an unemployed man, she stuffed him on camera until one of his shirt buttons popped off. The experience was more of a revelation for him than even becoming officially overweight; that night, after she went to sleep, he got out of bed, squeezed into an old pair of slacks that barely fit him, then gorged himself in the kitchen until he gasped at the relief of his ass seam tearing open, unable to accommodate his butt, which everyone online said was growing gorgeously fat. His heart fluttered just thinking about it, and he hoped his ass kept growing.

It did.

“I admit, I never thought you’d be this much of a pear,” his girlfriend told him, six months into his steady ballooning. They were admiring his progress in the large bathroom mirror. He may have looked small relative to his partner’s morbid obesity, but somehow, they were both more fascinated with his growth at the moment. She outlined his bottom heavy figure with her hands. Fat had indeed stored most eagerly in his ass, thighs, and hips. His belly drooped soft and wide.

“I love it,” she said. “Love everything about you.” But then something else came into her expression. “Except how you’ve stopped picking up after yourself.”

He swallowed, and said honestly, “Sorry. I know I’m getting lazier.”

“We’ll have to hire a maid.” She grinned wickedly. “Or do two pigs deserve to roll in their sty?”

*

A year into living on his passive income and her subscribers, the couple had not yet hired any cleaning services, and his country club house was...well. Not trashed, but messy and disorganized. She blamed the five pounds she’d lost over the past month on having to constantly throw his trash away. She punished him by making him stand while drinking a whole liter of full-sugar soda. Since he’d developed a strong distaste for any physical effort as he sunk deeper into obesity, he grumbled the whole time. When he finally fell back on the couch, she sat too. Together, they took up most of it. But while she looked perfectly composed, he was panting raggedly, slightly sweaty, a food stain on his pants.

“Look.” She reached out and held his chubby wrist. “I can tell that the fatter you get, the more your natural inclination is to be a pig.” She spoke with total matter-of-factness. As if the emergence of his inner pig was unsurprising and inevitable. “It’s not uncommon in men - that urge to oink and eat as a way of life. But we share this space. I help pay off this house. Please throw away your take out containers.”

Then she added, at his long-suffering sigh, “I’ll reward you.”

He met her gaze. “Tonight?”

“Tonight.”

*

This time, there were no cameras. There was just her, sitting on one side of their king bed and him on the other, breathing heavy, taking her reward one bite at a time.

Everywhere in their bed were containers and packages and napkins and soda bottles. He had eaten mexican and noodles and burgers and fries. He’d eaten candy bars and sundaes and milkshakes and chunky cookies. He was so full he could feel the skin of his belly stretching. He could practically feel the skin of his thighs stretching, as if they were filling up heavier with fat right then, as he was determinedly overfed. He swallowed another bite of greasy cheeseburger.

“Keep going. I can tell you're slowing down, but I’ll have none of that yet. I want to see progress from you.”

“I don’t know…”

“Do you want to feel the ecstasy of squeezing through a doorframe or are you going to plateau at being just fat?”

He let out a breathy moan as he ate another bite of the cheeseburger. His girlfriend knew him too well. She knew he liked the new challenges being big was causing him. She knew it turned him on that he sat so much fatter in his own car, belly pressing against everything, ass barely fitting at all. She knew his hands had begun cupping his hips as a half-unconscious habit, admiring his own width.

He liked how his thighs had to push past each other, jiggling every time. He even liked when he accidentally bumped into things, because it was a hot reminder that he wasn’t the same. He was like her now. He was fat. He was a pig. He wanted to eat and get so big he could barely even waddle. He wanted to squeeze through doorways. He wanted to get stuck.

“I want everything,” he said. And she smiled, temporarily pleased.

*

Thank you to the reader who commissioned this work!

I'd love to write more. Check me out <3 etsy.com/shop/Chubbology

#weight gain #fic #female feeder #male gainer

[genesisrose74]

Requested by @blanknamed (aka my bestie fr): hihi i saw the matchup and remembered my irl friend sent me these pictures when describing my aesthetic at one point and was wondering if i can have a matchup with someone from dsmp and dr. stone 🥺congrats on 1k too! so proud of you ❤️ you deserve this milestone!

Arielle get over here and let me give you a virtual kiss on the forehead because you’re just the sweetest person to ever grace this earth 😚forgive me for the long wait but i had to put so much into this one because it’s for you!! thank you for always being such a ray of sunshine and for becoming one of my first ever mutuals so long ago — and as a show of my gratitude, i’ll get right into your first pairing, which is going to be with…

I had a literal conflict over this because I think you could be compatible with more than half of the characters in dr. stone (looking at gen specifically), but UGH you and Senku would be so damn iconic together. As much as he’s not intent on becoming romantically involved with anyone, it just so happened that you both had a chance meeting together at the school library — in the modern times pre-petrification, of course. You were looking for a book on the development of radiation powered technology for a history class, and by coincidence Senku was reading the blurb of that very text when you stopped by. When you asked if he’d read it, your classmate simply shook his head and said he just knew a lot about the subject, and soon enough a conversation blossomed from that point.

Y’all talked for two hours. While standing in the same spot. TWO HOURS. And it didn’t even stop there because he realized the time and asked if you wanted to talk more over a bowl of this really good ramen he knew about close by. Senku barely even realized the implications of his offer until much later, since…

He was way too involved in your conversation to notice

He’s never had any interest like that in someone before, let alone has he ever tried asking a person out in general

Everything about you was so interesting to him that he cannot process anything else going on around him and he doesn’t know why

You just feel so different in comparison to his dynamic with anyone else that it throws him off. He’s curious as to why he straightens up when you walk in a room, why everytime you smile at his stupid dry jokes it makes him more confident, why your intrigued questions about his work give him an extra burst of adrenaline. After he comes home late, having fallen asleep in the library while you studied for a test beside him, Byakuya eventually spells it out for Senku in massive bold letters.

No, seriously, he writes it on a whiteboard with a chunky black marker.

“That’s ridiculously far-fetched,” he asserts quickly, trying to push his old man out of the room. “Since when have I ever been interested in anyone in that way?”

“Senku, you waited for her to finish her work. Without complaint.”

And he’s like: oh shit—

But knowing Senku, he still makes some futile attempts to disprove the concept that he could ever be attracted to someone in a romantic sense. Ya know, all that, “science is my only devotion” shit. It lasted for about two weeks, which was the exact amount of time that he tried avoiding you in hopes of seeing if he could in fact continue his routine without your presence next to him.

The bitch still cannot swallow his pride though, so you have to be the one to make the first move — which is about as simple as perfecting Flight of the Bumblebee on a violin. Every time you try bringing it up, it’s like Senku gets a sixth sense about it and is pulled away from you as soon as possible. At some point you just had to corner him in the school lab, hands smacking against the surface of his work table and mouth blurting it out.

“I think we should go on a date.”

He’s kinda impressed at the sheer willpower you displayed in finally getting the question into the air. And as much as he would hate to admit it, some happy nerves shot through his body when it happened. On the outside, though, he simply failed to fight a grin.

“Wanna get food with me tonight?”

And you did :D and it only went good from there. Dates at cafes with comfy chairs and pretty lighting, test runs of new experiments in the middle of the night that Senku calls you to see together, just enjoying the presence of one another in a secluded corner of the libraries you frequent. Even after the disaster that was petrification you’re both side by side, being sarcastic little shits to each other as soon as Senku frees you from the stone; doing new tests to save the world, going on picnics by the river, and constantly being of service to one another.

And then from the c!dsmp, I thought it was only fitting to match you up with…

^^ artwork by SAD-ist on YouTube

Listen, listen: I was considering a more standard/expected approach to this matchup, like maybe c!Wilbur or c!Niki because they’ve both got some major academia vibes. Especially Niki, because damn she’d probably take you to her flower shop and make handmade bouquets for you each day. However, I just think that it would be so perfectly fitting to have you and c!Sapnap together aesthetically. He’s very emotionally driven, always doing something stupid, and he probably hasn’t read a book since L’manburg claimed to be a sovereign nation. Regardless of that fact, he could sit and watch you read a book for hours, even if you didn’t ask him to. Standard case of grounded scholar + impulsive idiot = natural soulmates.

Within the region of the SMP, I imagine you like confining yourself to the libraries filled with ancient texts on the vast history of your home — although taking a visit to Eret’s self-made museum is always a pleasure as well. Niki gets along with you easily enough that you hang out together all the time, and it’s on one such occasion in the early days of L’manburg that Sapnap encounters you for the first time.

Dream had sent him out for scouting duty (which to Sapnap translates into, ‘be annoying to everyone within the walls’), and he’d taken to the edge of the country’s small borders, lounging up high above the trees so that he could see everything below with ease. To his surprise he found you, scribbling away within a ragged old notebook underneath a tree canopy, and wearing the prettiest smile he’d ever seen exist on a person before. You were waiting for your friend to arrive, it seemed, taking the ideas in your head and putting them to paper whilst you sat patiently. He was enraptured with you right away, and as a result he took to teasingly pestering you every chance he could.

Sapnap showed up at least once a week — and when he could, more than that — to slowly learn more about you. He tried staying under the radar of Wilbur when he did, just to make sure none of his endeavors were interfered with or got back to Dream in any capacity. Initially, his presence appeared a pain in your side, but your apprehension ultimately fell at the hands of his ridiculous humor and genuine inquiries as to your likes and dislikes. You knew who he was from the get-go, but it was hard not to find delight in his visits when he made such vigorous attempts to know you.

Although you’re sure he’d already learned it somehow, you told him your name one fateful afternoon, and he’s thought about that moment every day since, marking it as the first day he truly made progress in winning you over.

“You should come up here one day so we can talk normally,” he called out on a particularly overcast fall morning. “Maybe then I can see your face up close.”

You laughed, gazing up at him from the hillside on which you reclined. “You’re ridiculous. That’s not how this relationship works.”

“Mm, relationship? Sounds like you wanna gimme a kiss more than saying anything, hu—ow!”

A pine cone had clipped him in the shoulder harmlessly, chucked with expert aim by your own hand. Despite his surprise, Sapnap couldn’t help smiling.

“If you’re working that hard to twist the narrative and get me up there, how about you just come down instead?”

Without missing a beat the next day, he scaled to the top of the nation’s wall, made his way inside (with very little consideration for his safety), and took your face in his hands.

“You want me to?”

You already knew the implications. “Yeah.”

And he kissed you, then and there. Nice job, Ari!

Navigating a full blown relationship in the conditions y’all were in was not ideal. Sapnap tried everything he could to make sure you were safe, despite his distaste for your mother country and its leaders. After that cleared, though, it was a whole lot easier to be together and figure things out. Sapnap didn’t mind you staying within the walls as much as he initially thought because it reminded him of the first time you met, and so long as he could spend time with you he loved every second. Literally ask this man to do anything with you and he’s in, no matter what it is.

The sheer spontaneous energy Sapnap has inevitably feeds into your own, so while you’re much more contained than the pyromaniac, you have some very notable moments of crazy that are simply unforgettable. It’s honestly super funny to see that infectious life invade your senses, because otherwise you’re a super logical person and love entertaining yourself with the more simplistic things.

You work a lot with Wilbur on record keeping and cartography, but something that you and Sapnap apparently have in common is archery. That pine cone throw was no fluke, and he found that out when you came to visit, a shimmering bow fastened to a stock-full quiver on your back. It’s become a pastime to both ride out into the forest with your horses and practice archery (oftentimes mounted) as a way to let out frustration. If the weather conditions are too abysmal to go and do something outdoors, though, Sapnap likes to fall asleep watching you do methodical work, most commonly with his head in your lap as a fireplace crackles nearby. He’s a huge sucker for that cozy atmosphere, even though he tries to be all tough and badass at other times.

This became a huge ramble because I just think this pairing for you works so well, but I’m praying you get the picture. Sapnap is a flirty, slightly whiny, very protective, and free spirited person whenever you’re around, and he’d do whatever he could to see that pretty smile like the first day you told him your name. He thinks the world of you, and in his eyes your intelligence goes unparalleled.

#genesisrose 1k event #milestone event #matchup event #aesthetic matchup #senku x reader #c!sapnap x reader #dr stone matchups #dsmp matchup

[ignisnocturnalia]

I think I've figured out how I want to write these (Exposition/mini story, when relationship is established HCs actually start) based on a previous statement I made, also ANOTHER REQUEST! All headcanons are placed at the back of the story part. Let's get this ball rolling!

Crow x Reader

"Now, if he ever flies too far from the nest?" Spider leans forward, "Boom." Your stomach made a flip at the kingpin's explanation, and you've never been more uncomfortable to have your Ghost out in the open. Some part of your mind is saying 'Who cares? That's the man that killed Cayde', but another half is saying 'He has no idea. It isn't fair to judge him for something he can't remember'.

That meeting had happened an hour ago and you couldn't get his dumb gray face out of your head. He looked so.. sad. Regardless, having a Ghost rigged with explosives did not sit right with you at all. Spider wanted you to help him with his Wrathborn problem? Sure, alright. When all of this was over, you knew exactly what you wanted your payment to be.

One large change about the new light that you've found impossible to ignore is diminutive he is. His commentary after successful hunts and small chats after a lure upgrade is administered are curt. Even more surprising is his willingness to present mercy to the corrupted Fallen. He is nothing like Uldren.

Acknowledging this division between his past and present self is when you start to realize that you like working with him. A lot. Probably more than just work, but will you admit it? No. Besides, you tell yourself, he really doesn't look like he's searching for a relationship while figuring himself out.

Petra often asks why you've taken to visiting the Tangled Shore so frequently now, and everytime you scramble to spit out an answer, something stupid like "Spider has a good deal running right now". In some part, it's true, since when you're not hunting Wrathborn you're showing Crow how to do Guardian stuff and explaining Last City life to him. His calm and curious demeanor is extremely cute, and the velvet sound of his voice does not help.

When Spider has both of you run point on a mission you always look to the rafters of the building to try and see him or listen for his steps. He's annoyingly good at stealth. The only time you ever had to be stealthy was in the Gorgon's lair and the Pleasure Gardens. You wish you could speak to him unfiltered; if Spider ever discovered your crush he wouldn't let you hear or see the end of it.

As the months dragged on and you came closer to catching the High Celebrant, you caught yourself anxiously wondering what lie at the end of it all. What if Spider didn't let you take him? And if he did, would Crow stay with you or do his own thing? Greedy little thoughts ran through your head as you thought of all the times you shared together, both of you visibly happy in your eyes.

As much as you'd like to live a runaway life with him and hope he felt the same, you knew it was wrong. He'd get restless, and you'd start fighting. Whatever he chose to do, is what you would let him do. Osiris has taken notice of your feelings, and the knowing glances he gives when no one else is looking sets your face on fire, acting like he doesn't have a thing for Saint always writing those letters when he's on death's doorstep; dramatic is what you say.

Soon enough, all of your close friends can tell you like someone, but they simply can't figure out who. Ironically, the day you work up enough courage to ask him to be your partner is the same day he pins the location of the High Celebrant. The morning is tense, and just getting ready for the big fight is sending energy through your body. Crow, on the other hand, seems much more grim. It makes sense, really; you're the one who's been slaying gods over the years.

You're guard is quickly brought up when Spider summons you for a talk in the main room. You listen to his next words with a fierce intensity.

"Do not let him so close, or spoil him with pretty dreams. Kill the High Celebrant. Break Xivu Arath's hold over my Shore, and you can claim any prise in my lair as your reward. You'll have earned it."

Hiding a smile, you nod and make your way to disembark on your mission; looks like you won't have to ask.

The Dreaming City was as mystical as ever, and you vaguely wondered if Petra had seen you come in. Making quick work of the scarce Hive, you found yourself in Harbinger's Seclude. The massive Cryptolith was impossible to miss, and a full body shiver racked you as you approached it. This was it.

Stabbing the lure into the roots, Crow's voice filled your comm channel.

"Ha! Tagged it! It's bleeding energy and on its way back to you." Your heart jumped at his excited tone. Nobody had any business being that cute. The trademark screech of a Hive portal drowned out all noise, and your next big fight ensued.

The next period of time was spent chasing the Celebrant through realms, until, that is, it sealed the last portal. Osiris had given weak condolences, but you weren't going to give up on Crow. Not today! The blight high above you twinkled teasingly as frustrated tears swam over your eyes as you attempted scrambling up the large Awoken statue, just barely missing the hand and falling back to the ground uselessly.

The silence was becoming overwhelming, deafening, even. Osiris continued to tell you to return to fight another day, but he was too important for you to just leave behind.

"Maybe there's enough Hive magic left in the lure to find another way through!" For once, your Ghost didn't parrot the obvious; you almost wanted to kiss him. Turning around with a new fire, you thrusted your lure into the crystalline floor over the last trace of the High Celebrant's blood. Sure enough, platforms much like those of the Dreadnaught revealed themselves over the edge of the bridge.

You wasted no time, racing over every gap and closing in on the blight. Palpitations overtook your heart when Crow's voice returned to the feed, spewing some kind of death message. Death wouldn't take him. Especially not if you had anything to say about it.

Jumping through the portal, you recognize the bitter feelings of anguish. This is exactly how you felt when Sundance's light washed over the Prison of Elders. Not again.

By the time you see the High Celebrant, all you're seeing is red. Faintly, you remember how Drifter said the Hive in the system were scared of you; good. They should be.

Bullets fly and the ether sings with each corrupted Fallen whose head flies by your gun. If you weren't so pressed for time, you would've strangled the Wizard that had your sought after stolen Light. Standing in the pool of green magic, you turn a furious glare on to the Celebrant and unload your heavy straight into its bony head. Something inside of you lurched in desperation to finish the kill when it summons a portal, trying to make for a retreat and trapping you at the center of the room.

"Crow! The portal!"

"I see it! Now finish it!" Just as he says those words, the trap falls and the portal across the room implodes, sending the High Celebrant to its knees. Your body erupts with power as you descend upon the Hive that killed Sagira and nearly killed Crow, sending it off with your super into the abyss.

Heaving a sigh, your brain finally has a chance to clear with no more present danger. In fact, your chest swells with affection as your Ghost confidently speaks of his trust in Crow followed by his reply.

"It's been an honor, Guardian."

Finally leaving the location, Celebrant head included, you decide to sleep on your short trip back. Your Ghost wakes you up before you land, and when you transmat your eyes immediately fall on Crow, who is safe and sound. Behind your helmet, you smile wearily at the former prince.

The moment you step into the Spider's lair, the air is thick with tension. You can tell the kingpin is pleased to have the Shore cleansed of Hive corruption, but also upset that he has to give up one of his prizes.

"It's done." You say firmly.

"So it is... so it is," he leans forward in his seat with a leer, "All right, Guardian. As promised, you can have a prized bauble from my lair as compensation for your... heroics." The last word rolls off his tongue with a quiet distaste, and you have no problem returning the feeling.

"I want... him." Jerking your head in Crow's direction, you can feel the energy crack through the room.

"Cute. Real funny." Your brows crease in impatience at his dismissive snicker.

"You said anything in the room." You do your best to keep your eyes off of Crow; a distraction now could be bad news. Spider lets out a terrible laugh as his guards step forward, readying their spears.

"Oh... You really want my little bird," he puts an uncomfortable amount of importance on the words "really want", "Fine. You can have him." The large Fallen turns his gaze to Crow, mockingly waving his arm upward.

"Fly away," he looks back down at you, "and get the hell out of my lair."

No further instruction is needed as you and Crow make your leave. As you exit the safehouse, both Glint and your Ghost come out.

"Now what?" Glint looks to Crow for an answer. The reality of the event settles on the Awoken, and he looks at you in a way he hasn't before.

"Why would you do this for us?"

As a formality, you've never taken off your helmet around Crow. He'd never seen, or even had an idea about your face, until... now. The tear streaks from the mission are still on your face, slightly visible in the dim light. Walking over to him, you slowly bring your eyes up to his. He doesn't move away, but you do notice with a flash of hope that a blush is starting to grace his cheeks at your proximity. Clenching your eyes shut, you close the gap between you two and press a kiss to his lips.

He freezes for a moment before placing his hands on your shoulders, and you pull back afraid that you've just made the wrong move.

"I... uh." His eyes dart here and there before settling back on yours. His face straightens out, and then he hesitantly leans forward into your range again. This time, he's the one kissing you.

Both of you leave the Tangled Shore together.

Relationship HCs

He never fails to pick you up during your special brand of greeting, which is running straight at him and jumping into his arms. You even do the little spin around like those movie couples

He's okay with subtle PDA like handholding, but nothing too extreme such as kissing in front of others; he prefers to keep more intimate moments between you and him

Surprisingly eager for cuddles with you at the end of the day

He will let you indulge yourself by doing stupid things every once in a while, like seeing how much whipped cream you can put in his mouth before he can't take anymore

There are times when you just talk about random stuff because he knows you like the sound of his voice

He usually has to calm you down whenever another Guardian stares too long. You see it as a threat, and you're ready to defend your glowing boyfriend with your life

When you're not busy with Vanguard tasks, you're bringing him to the planets that weren't swallowed by the Darkness and showing him the layout, along with whatever endemic life is present

He becomes enamored with Earth's crows, which you had expected

Whenever he has visions of his past, he'll tell you and you do your best to fill in with rudimentary details such as location or time; you hope he never remembers the moment when you had to kill him

You especially love playing with his hair, it's nearly softer than silk and you are intrigued by the white streaks at the front of his cut

Both of you will decide to sit down every once in a while and just touch each other's face; you prefer running your hands along his jawline and cheekbones while he'll brush just under your eyes and along your temples

Dates can range from a quiet, romantic dinner to hunting down large and difficult quarry

Whenever you find a Golden Age waltz piece, you bring it to him and give it a listen; these sessions always end with you two dancing and swaying with each other

Truly, a couple of many talents

NSFW 👁👄👁

The first time you get anywhere close to the act he's so unsure of himself you both stop and instead explore each other at the surface level

No matter how many times he sees you nude his face is a blushing mess everytime

The first few times you take the lead, but once you both get over the fact that you've exchanged pleasantries he's the one who figures out he likes to be dominant in bed

He's vocal to an extent, mostly heavy breathing/moaning and grunts to let you know exactly how good you feel

He's super into bondage (who would've known?) whenever you're the one tying him up

He always prefers the ability to see your face, and whether it's because he can see your face contort in pleasure or because he can lock with you in a heated kiss, you can't tell

His sides are usually ticklish, but they act more like erogenous zones when both of you are deep into it

He starts out rough since he isn't used to this kind of activity at all, but over time he finds a balance between being gentle and absolutely blowing your back out

He's likely to caress your arms and waist the whole time to add another sensitive layer to your already overstimulated body

He also likes draping his body over yours, and with how hot his chest is and the press of his lower body? You're not arguing

Once you finish, he either goes straight to sleep while huddling against you or you convince him to get up so you can shower together

I have 2 asks for Drifter HCs, but I'm implementing a personal/request system so I can keep my monsterfucker train going. The next HCs I'm releasing are for Nokris, then I'll do Drifter HCs, and for now my last personal writing will be for Ghaul

#destiny 2 #relationship headcanon #crow x reader #destiny spider #osiris #saint 14 #cayde6 #uldren sov #destiny crow #petra venj #xivu arath

[shelby-love]

HARGREEVES SIBLINGS

What Brings us Together: Funerals

Requested: yes [x]

Prompts: none

Warning(s): none

Word count: 3.5K

Author’s note: I hope this is what you wanted. You didn't specify what kind of interaction we should have w our siblings so I just went off what was most realistic. Luther is a b of course, that's just how he is at the beginning lol. Don’t think I hate him though! p.s. so is diego we know he wasn’t really nice to vanya in the beginning :(

~

You sighed heavily through your nose, gathering your brows in distaste at the building standing tall in front of you. The Umbrella Academy looks as imposing as ever, making you remember just how much it once scared you when you were a kid.

Time went by and you became an adult. Someone with common sense, living an ordinary life far away from your once bright future that suggested money and luxury. Of course, when you’re informed of your father’s passing through a TV screen, it’s mandatory to show up and pay your respects.

You snorted at the rogue thought. “Bastard.”

Seeing your siblings after so many years of being apart made you feel anxious. Your father and his ashes weren’t the cause of your sweaty hands. It felt weird. Too weird.

But you ignored the feeling and called out your inner adult, placing one foot in front of the other and walking straight through the two-winged doors.  

Your eyes fell on every surface of the academy, sweeping over every object while doing so. The number of memories, good and bad, that this place held was uncountable. But life, alas, is too short.

Your father a true example.

You gazed at the portrait with no emotion, looking at the picture of your father and siblings with a crooked smile of sadness. The tips of your bare fingers flickered with energy, and you fought the urge to curl them into a fist and punch a wall.

But your father's voice rung through your head, what you've been taught all your life bucking into instinctive actions. "You must know self-control Number Eight. You lack of it will be your downfall. Now put your gloves back on!"

You were 4 when those words big words started to leave his mouth, and you never heard the end of it. Not until he died.

You uncurled your fists, took a deep breath and felt the energy cave in.

"Y/N? Is that you?"

The sudden sweetness of a voice that belonged to your sister travelled into your ears, so quietly you almost didn't hear her. Your eyes widened slightly, and when you turned around – for a moment you didn't know what to do. The girl had turned into a celebrity, and you wondered if that had changed her in any way.

"Allison?"

She took a few sharp steps your way and wrapped her arms around you, pulling you in a bone-crushing hug you returned immediately.

"You're not wearing your gloves," she took note, looking tentative to touch you for a second after pulling away.

"I don't need them anymore," you stated proudly.

Your father graced you with leather gloves at the age of 4, telling you to never take them off. That in a way, you and the powers you possessed were a danger to your siblings. The dark leather gloves weren't comfortable, in fact, they felt suffocating every time you wore them. Because that's how silencing your powers feels like. Suffocating. For a second too short, you had wondered what Allison felt like. Not being able to use her voice for what it was made for.

"Well, I'm happy for you," said Allison, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. "You never really liked them."

"No," you agreed with a mumble. "No, I didn't."

The two of you walked out of the hall and into the living area, legs paired with pace.

"Where is everyone?" You asked her quietly, your eyes inspecting an antique you knocked over as a kid more times than you could count.

"Diego is here, somewhere," she mused, and you raised your brows ever so slightly in surprise. "He has this weird hero complex, so he's out saving the world, I guess. Apart from us three, no one’s here yet."

"Do you know when he'll be coming back?" You wondered out loud, watching her give you an odd look a second later. "I haven't seen him in years, Allison. He's my brother."

A part of you wanted to tease her about Luther by saying that not everyone is into what they were, but you withheld it and instead locked your eyes onto your other brother.

Number Five.

"I missed you Y/N."

You smiled at her quiet voice, "Missed you too Ally."

***

"You know if I was murdered, and if one of my sons...adopted sons... happened to be able to commune with the dead, I might think about, I don't know, I don't know...manifesting!"

You attempted to stifle your laughter as you watched Klaus prance around your father's ashes in an attempt to talk to him. He wasn't sober, so you doubted it would work.

But it was pleasantly nice to see him try at least.

"I don't think he wants to talk," you interrupted him mid-vent.

You watched as his pacing stopped, his demeanor switching from crazy to collected in the seconds it took your voice to be heard. Klaus turned around slowly, beaming from one ear to another. "It's you! You're alive!"

His scream of joy brought a wide smile to your lips, and you rushed to his arms. Both of you screamed like little kids, telling how much you missed each other and how tragic life has been without one another. Making jokes on your dead father's account was overly present too.

"And you're high!" You squealed in delight, ruffling his crazy looking hair.

Klaus pulled away at that, swaying in a matter that looked like he was stretching before a run. He pointed his thumb at the ashes, "Dad's too stubborn. He won't talk to me."

"Did you try begging?" You asked amused.

"I-I guess…" He mumbled before groaning. "I'm too sober for this!"

Then his eyes snapped to you and a pout drew on his face. Klaus went to stand in front of you, grabbing your hands in his and placing them on his chest. "Y/N…"

You rolled your eyes but didn't remove them, "Yes, Klaus?"

"I was just wondering if you," He said gingerly. "You know…"

This time you did pull your hands away but placed them on his face. Teasingly you squished his cheeks like you used to when you were kids. "You want me to give you money, so you can go get high because your childhood trauma of being locked in a mausoleum catches up to you every time you're sober? Of course, I will. How much do you need?"

It took him a second to process your words. "Oh my God really?" Klaus whispered, almost as if he didn't believe that was happening.

"I tried it your way when I left -" you explained, pulling out your wallet and glancing at his stunned expression. "- to suppress my powers. It didn't work, and I continued to suffer. If that's what it takes for you to not suffer from them, I'll gladly help."

You handed him a wad of money but when he tried to take them you pulled away, "Just…be careful Klaus."

"Yeah of course I will," he replied absentmindedly before he turned his head to the side. "Shut up."

You furrowed your brows, "Did you say something Klaus?"

"Oh no, no, no, no, no," said Klaus quickly, a little too quickly. "I didn't say anything."

You hummed but swore you had caught him swing his leg at something too.

"Well, if that’s all…" you murmured, "I'll leave you to it then, I gotta go see Mom. Don't say hi to dad from me, okay? Don't you dare Klaus."

The sibling only saluted, turning around to get back to trying to reach your dad, securing the money into a pocket in his skirt.

"Hey! Wait!"

You stopped and turned back around. Klaus waved his hands at the big lone fireplace. "Can you do that thing, please?"

By that thing, he meant to say start the fire. You shrugged and walked back to the fireplace. The amount of time you lit it up for your siblings was infinite. It felt weird to do it now even though you light your fire at home with your powers all the time.

Fire comes out of your hands quickly and with ease in the shape of a golden ball, igniting the lone fireplace within seconds. You watched the inferno you created in a daze, only breaking out of it when Klaus came to stand in front of the fire to warm up.

"Love you Klaus."

"Awww I love you too sis."

You shook your head, turned and left the room.

***

"Heard you came from the moon." You mused, "Thought I'd stop by and see for myself."

When word spread that Luther was on the moon, you didn't quite believe it. Then you found out that he too came back to send your father off to the lands of the dead, and you just had to see him and ask for yourself.

It was no surprise to find him in your dad's office of all places, although at first glance he did look like an intruder. You felt yourself stiffen at the sight of a big man in a coat, looming over your father's desk imposingly. Power surged through your veins, and it took everything in you to stop it from overflowing in fear.

When your brother met your face, you exhaled in relief and a single candle lit in the room as a result.

Luther seized it, looking impressed. "You've gotten better."

"Cut the crap Number One," you snapped suddenly, the tone mainly coming from the fact that your powers activated because of the fear that came from seeing a completely new version of your brother. "First of all, what happened to you? I thought Diego would turn out like that, not you."

He shrugged his massive shoulders.

"Second of all," you began. "What are you doing in dad's office?"

"Nothing," he said quickly.

Luther might look big and dangerous but the creases in his face give you all the answers you need. "You haven't changed a bit," you mused, leaning against the door. A part of you still felt young and that made you respect your father's words a little more by staying put. "Save for the…" You pointed to your torso for reference.

Luther noticed the way you eerily stood at the doorstep, contemplating whether to enter and break his word. "He's dead you know."

You shot him a look, "I know that."

"So, why don't you come in?"

You contemplated to come in, but in all honesty - nothing was of interest. You would much rather like to interrogate Luther and his whims. 

"Is Allison really the only person you care about?" You asked him instead, the bubbled feelings you've been holding inside threatening to spill. It was rather hostile, the way you two met after years of not seeing each other. A big part of you felt angry at him for not calling you when things obviously went wrong somewhere. His body wasn’t a result of something natural, and you knew it. "I mean this as a sibling. Let's ignore the weird thing you two have for each other."

"We don-" he started, your seizing eyes stopping him mid-sentence. "Is it that obvious?"

You sighed, "Look Luther, I'm just trying to say…"

"No, you're accusing me."

"Of what?"

"You left. All of you."

You snorted, "You really want to do this right now?"

"I don't see why not."

"You're looking for something," you said instead, completely ignoring his words. "I won't help you find it nor will I try to lie if you ask me if I have it."

His ears perked, "Dad's monocle."

You chuckled, "That lame thing he always wore?"

Luther nodded.

"Why do you need it?"

"You said you wouldn't lie."

"I'm not lying Luther, I just asked you a question!" You told him. A thought washed over you when his eyes pinned you in, and you could barely even grasp it. "You think I killed him, don't you?"

"I didn't say that." He tried to reason, although he didn't move from around the desk to try and soothe you.

"You didn't have to," you said quietly, feeling tears gather in your eyes. "I see the way you look at me, brother. Ever since I hurt her-"

"Don't talk about her," he stopped you.

"Why the hell not?!" You exclaimed, "She's my sister you know. Our sister. You keep forgetting that."  

Luther stayed silent after your outburst, probably contemplating whether to apologize, but you cut him from speaking before he could even start. "We were 7 Luther. I didn't know what I was doing. You think I wanted to take the air out of her lungs? She was going to rumor me Luther. I was scared."

It didn't really matter how much you repeated it to him, he never understood. His love for her goes beyond siblingship, as weird and disturbing as it was. Whoever hurt Allison became a monster in his eyes. "But anyway. I didn't steal that ugly thing. You can cross me off your list."

You looked around the office, ignoring the way Luther stood silently. The lack of light was obviously making it difficult for him to sniff around. You raised your hands in the air, watching as the tips of your fingers turned into flames. A satisfying sight, but a sight you didn't want to look at currently. With a swipe of your hand, you controlled the small blazes until they broke apart and landed at the candles, lighting up the room, so Luther can see. "Hopefully this helps."

You walked away from the office after that, not daring to look behind yourself in fear of breaking down.

***

You stomped across the academy, anger flowing off you in waves. Having your emotions tied to your feelings was never fun. The chandelier above you swayed under the wind that came from your anger and candles burnt out, the fire that came within them disappearing into your body.

"Y/N?"

Suddenly, the wind stopped, but your lip started to tremble instead. "Vanya?"

When you turned around, she stood awkwardly at the door. With hands in her pockets she glanced between the shaking chandelier and you.

It was obvious that she was uncomfortable, at least until she saw your relieved smile. "Is that really you?"

She smiled, "I-I guess."

You outright laughed, the outcome of Luther and yours argument disappearing from your mind completely when you hugged her. "I missed you so much."

"You did?" She asked surprised.

"Why wouldn't I?" You asked her, confusion crossing your features. "You're my sister. Come here."

You brought her into the hug again, feeling her hug you tighter this time.

"You're not mad at me?"

Remembering what she was talking about had you cringing ever so slightly in discomfort. You scratched the back of your neck, "I mean… I was. But not anymore, Vanya. I'm all passed that now."

"You are?" She asked, hopeful.

"I am," you nodded in confirmation. "We're here to say our goodbyes to Dad. You have every right to be here, no one can tell you otherwise."

Vanya stayed silent, so you quickly added, "And the book was good. Exposing, but good. I like your way with words."

She snorted, "Yeah I thought you would."

Beaming, you slung an arm around her shoulders just like Allison did when you first came. Unfortunately, in your dysfunctional family, no one has peace for long. Diego came striding down the stairs in his black spandex suit, looking as he just came out of an action movie.

Seeing you had his smile growing by a mile, but upon glancing at Vanya the easy smile vanished and was instead replaced by a scowl. "You're still here? I thought I already told you. You don't belong –"

"Diego," your hand raised in the air to halt his mouth. "Now's not the time."

He let out a humorous laugh, walking up to you to give you a kiss on the cheek. You didn't fight it, instead letting him kiss your cheek and squeeze your shoulder as a greeting after not seeing each other for years. "Good to have you back sis."

"Enjoy it while you can," you said. "Because I'm leaving the moment dad's ashes are spread."

"Oh, I bet," he mused. "I'm leaving too. You should go now Vanya, save us the trouble."

"Okay Diego that's enough," you interrupted, standing closer to Vanya this time round, hoping she sees your support through mere change of standing. "Why don't you run along and go save lives? I heard that's your life's call."

He rolled his eyes before glancing at your outfit. "That's an awfully bold color for a funeral."

"That's because I'm not dressed yet," you rolled your eyes. "Now, if you don't have anything nice to say, I suggest you leave before I boil you."

Knowing you don't give out empty threats, Diego nodded grimly and disappeared upstairs, not giving Vanya a glance of acknowledgement. "You know, maybe he's right… I should just go."

You shook your head immediately, "Absolutely not. Look Vanya, your book might've not been the best thing that's happened to us, but it certainly isn't the worst. He's just being snappish. That's Diego's factory setting."

She laughed, this time giving you a smile. Not a fake smile, but a real one.

You felt victorious as you wrapped your arm around her again, leading her into the living area for a catch-up.

***

"Does anyone else see little Number Five, or is that just me?"

You and Klaus held to each other like little kids, not believing what, or who, stood in front of you. The little carbon copy of your long-lost brother swore under his breath, shocking you to the bones with the word ‘shit’. "I'm not high, am I?"

"I-I don't know," said Klaus awkwardly, "Do you feel high?"

"Klaus she's not high," Diego interrupted, standing in front of the group with Luther.

"You never know with her," Klaus tried to explain.

"Five is that really you?" You asked, ignoring the bickering that went all around you.

"Of course, it's me!"

"Oh God Klaus they even sound the same," you whispered, clutching Klaus' hand tighter.

"Look I don't have time to explain this all to you," the boy sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose like an old man.

"The hell you do," Diego mumbled, eyeing him with menace.

Number Five (if that was even him) rolled his eyes and tried to push through and walk right past you. No 30-year-old - despite how shocked and curious they were - tried to stop him.

Save for you of course.

A lone vine flew from the wall under your command, wrapping itself around your brother's wrist in a vice-grip. Five eyed it nonchalantly, as if the sight amused him rather than intimidated him. "You do know I can walk right through that?"

You dared him with your eyes and mocked him with your mouth, "You do know that you've been gone for 17 years? I've evolved little man."

He bunched his brows together, almost as if he didn't believe you. To test his theory out, he urged his body to travel through space. You all watched as he walked straight through the air, coming out on the other end in a different part of the yard, not being able to move due to the vine's grip despite having travelled through literal space.

"Cute!" Five called out, walking back toward you using his power. "Now let me go."

"And why would she do that?" Luther asked, the inner Number One in him surfacing.

"Because I've got work to do."

"Five you're a kid literally," Allison objected, gazing over your brother's tiny body.

"You don't understand…"

"Maybe he needs a nap," Klaus mumbled next to you.

"I don’t-"

By not literal smoke was almost coming out of his little ears, his face reddened from anger, and he looked annoyed beyond understanding. "They're too young… I knew it."

You creased your brows, not understanding why Five was mumbling weird things into his chin. "You alright Five?"

He glared at you, "I will be… Once you get this thing off me."

You shrugged with a sigh, mumbling an okay and hauling the vine away from Five who shook his head in irritation. He wrapped a hand around his sore wrist, massaging it with his thumb to get read of the soreness. "Can't say I missed you and your crazy plants. Although you would've been a great addition to my adventures."

"What adventures?" You asked confused. "You’re 13."

Five sighed, brushing you all off with a sway of his hand.

Klaus was the first one to dash back into the house mumbling something about not being able to handle the weather, Allison following behind him carefully. Luther, who looked like a lost puppy, followed after your sister until it was just Vanya, Diego, Five and you left.

"I'm going to head inside," said Vanya awkwardly, disappearing inside quickly.

Diego gave Five a sideward glance but shook his head and left too.

"Elemental manipulation is exactly what we need to fight it."

You rolled your eyes, not quite believing that he forgot how elemental manipulation isn't your favorite thing. "Fight what Five?"

"The apocalypse."

"I'm glad you're back bro, seriously I mean it," You told him sincerely, "But you're crazy. I'd say get some help but…"

MASTERLIST

~

Here is the link to my tag list masterpost! If you want to be added to one of my existing tag lists (or perhaps new ones) let me know! :) 

✭ GENERAL TAGS (all WIPs): 

@fofisstilinski @short-potato @miranda0102​ @httphiddlestan @caromichaela @xx-missunicorn-xx @jemmakates @theravenclawmarauder @tclaerh @chefdoeuvre @just-arather-veryconfused-being @crazy0lu @thirstykpophoe @abimoon @sofiasamps @princxss-fia @theletterhart 

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#tua #tua imagine #tua fanfiction #tua x reader #the umbrella academy imagine #the umbrella academy #the umbrella academy fanfiction #the umbrella academy x reader #umbrella academy #umbrella academy imagine #umbrella academy fanfiction #umbrella academy x reader #luther hargreeves #luther hargreeves imagine #luther hargreeves fanfiction #luther hargreeves x reader #diego hargreeves #diego hargreeves imagine #diego hargreeves x reader #diego hargreeves fanfiction #allison hargreeves imagine #allison hargreeves #allison hargreeves fanfiction #allison hargreeves x reader #klaus hargreeves #klaus hargreeves imagine #klaus hargreeves fanfiction #klaus hargreeves x reader #number five #number five imagine

[whumpmatsus]

nightwatch. [ Iromatsu ]

In which Karamatsu finds Ichimatsu sick on the bathroom floor and is prepared to spend the whole night there taking care of him.

When Karamatsu wakes to the absence of Ichimatsu’s scary energy next to him, it’s more unsettling than if the energy had been there.

Maybe that’s what woke him up in the first place? The mere non-presence of one of his brothers who’s usually right there? It feels to his mind as if he could sense something, someone, missing from him. Like he and his siblings are incomplete without that dark aura.

Well. Surely no one will miss him while he investigates this.

After all, usually when Ichimatsu is asleep for the night, he’s out until morning. Something could actually be wrong. And if none of the others have woken up to solve it, then it’s up to Karamatsu. The second eldest must take care of his younger brothers!

Quietly he gets out of the futon, making sure to avoid waking any of the others. Even when he heads into the hallway, he doesn’t close the door all the way in case the noise might disturb them.

It’s just as dark in the hall as it is in their bedroom, but… a light further down catches his attention. The door is half-shut, allowing the light to filter out a bit. He supposes it’s possible Ichimatsu just had to pee, though the closer he gets, the less confident he is in that simple theory.

He can hear small groans and sighs. Not the kind someone gives when they’re taking a shit, no, no; the kind someone gives when they’re feeling like shit. Predictably, the voice is definitely Ichimatsu’s.

Privacy be damned, Karamatsu pushes the door open as soon as he’s close enough, and the scene he finds makes his eyes go wide. “Brother!”

The fourth eldest is curled up on the floor, practically hugging the toilet, looking like absolute hell. His hair is messier than usual, there’s a not insignificant patch of still-damp vomit on his pajama shirt, and… quite honestly, he looks just a moment away from hurling. Again, since he’s evidently already done it once.

He somehow finds the piss and vinegar in himself to glare at his older brother. “G-go away, Shittymatsu…! I can’t…” A gag, though not a particularly productive one, interrupts him. Once it passes, he swallows perhaps more harshly than necessary. “I can’t deal with you… right now…”

“… Well… you need to deal with someone! As I’m the only one available, dear brother, it will have to be me.” Karamatsu kneels down to sit on the floor next to Ichimatsu. The fact that his hand isn’t slapped away when he reaches to brush Ichimatsu’s bangs back is an almost worrying sign. He frowns when the other man’s forehead is distinctly warm to the touch.

Something that sounds like a borderline whimper slips from between Ichimatsu’s lips. “Your shitty hand is freezing.”

Karamatsu shakes his head. “No… my hand is normal temperature. I think you’re actually running a fever.”

He shifts his hand down, gently pressing the back of it against his brother’s cheek, then the other cheek, then his neck. “You are definitely hot.”

Ichimatsu scoffs. “If I’m that hot, I can do better than you, so I don’t need the compliment.”

“Che.” He grabs a washcloth from the nearby cabinet, briefly rises to wet it in the sink, and then plops himself back down. Once there, he leans over and begins an attempt to clean the vomit off Ichimatsu’s shirt. “You don’t feel well, do you?”

There’s a moment of hesitation, then Ichimatsu slowly shakes his head. “I feel like crap. I woke up and my stomach was…” He pauses to press a fist to his mouth, his brows twitching in a clear effort not to throw up. It’s accompanied by a sick-sounding gulp that makes Karamatsu wince in sympathy. “… Doing flips… don’t know how I got… got out without waking anyone up…”

The second eldest clicks his tongue, and tosses the now-soiled cloth over the side of the sink. “You should have woken me up, Ichimatsu! What else am I for, but to take care of my dearest younger brothers?”

Ichimatsu scowls, though it’s clear his desire for comfort is starting to win out over his distaste for Karamatsu. “Didn’t want to be taken care of.” A volley of coughs rips itself from his body, muffled into his sleeve. When they subside, it becomes obvious to Karamatsu, sitting this close, that the white of Ichimatsu’s left eye is awfully red.

“Ichimacchan…” he murmurs, scooting forward to pull his little brother into an embrace. It isn’t fought, and in fact Ichimatsu actually presses into the contact like he wants more. “Your eye is bleeding? Should… should I get Mommy or Daddy so they can drive you to the hospital??”

Ichimatsu shakes his head. “No… it’s not serious. It was kind of violent when I first threw up,” he explains. His eyes drift closed, too drained for the effort needed to keep them open. “Burst a blood vessel in my eye from the strain. It’ll go away in a few days.”

“But… doesn’t it hurt?”

“A little.” He curls in on himself, one arm suddenly clenching up against his middle. “Stomach hurts worse. I think I’m…”

In a frenzied panic, he scrambles away from his older brother in favor of the toilet. What comes first is a desperate gag, followed by an undeniably painful belch, and finally a combination of the day’s meals, or what’s left of them, comes back for a second encore.

Karamatsu cringes at the noise, but only because he knows his younger brother is in a massive amount of discomfort right now. He can’t remember the last time he saw Ichimatsu so sick that he was prepared to spend at least part of the night on the bathroom floor. Not to mention, he’s pretty sure Ichimatsu hasn’t been so willing to accept close contact from Karamatsu… since they were kids, probably.

Most of the time, he tries to pretend that Ichimatsu’s disdain toward him doesn’t bother him at all. Sometimes he can even pretend to completely ignore it.

But it does hurt. As dysfunctional as their relationships with each other all are, he always thought that they all still shared the same love they had as children. That Ichimatsu has become so cold toward him is painful; for all his ‘coolness’ and dramatics, he thinks all he really wants is for his brothers, the people he loves more than anything or anyone in the world, to love him back.

It’s perhaps a little sad that the only time Ichimatsu wants that closeness with Karamatsu is when he’s puking his guts out. At the same time, however, that he’s willing to let Karamatsu this close at all is… a good sign.

Maybe it means Ichimatsu doesn’t actually hate him. Or not as much as he wants everyone to think.

He sets a careful hand on his younger brother’s back, rubbing up and down as a reminder that he’s still here. He knows Totty likes to have his back rubbed when he’s throwing up, so maybe it will be a comfort to Ichimatsu too. “There, there, brother.”

It’s probably kind of a useless thing to say, isn’t it? Unfortunately, it’s the only thing Karamatsu can really think to say at the moment.

At last, Ichimatsu’s stomach seems done with torturing him. The retches give way to dry heaves, which fade into coughs, which then taper off into gasps. By the time he pushes himself away from the bowl, still trembling, Karamatsu has a cloth ready to scrub his mouth clean.

“Feel better?” he hums as he pulls Ichimatsu into his lap. The leftover traces of vomit are made short work of, wiped away as if they never even existed.

Surprisingly, Ichimatsu all but collapses in his older brother’s arms. He looks miserable and sleepy, and gives Karamatsu the most irritatedly deadpan expression he’s ever seen. “… Some came out my nose.”

Karamatsu chuckles and tears off another few squares of toilet paper, then clamps them down on Ichimatsu’s nose. “Okay, so blow.”

Likely too tired to argue, Ichimatsu does as he’s told. It’s a weak effort, and there are some more coughs on the tail end of the blow. When he’s done, though, he ends up looking slightly calmer. “Fucking nasty,” he mumbles.

“Hmm, yes, well… not even I could make this look cool were it me in your position, so that’s no shock.” He wraps Ichimatsu in a hug, being cautious as he begins to rub his brother’s stomach.

Things are quiet for a moment before he rests his cheek on top of Ichimatsu’s head. “… I would trade places with you in a heartbeat, however. To suffer so you wouldn’t have to.”

Ichimatsu huffs… then relaxes against Karamatsu’s chest. “I deserve to suffer.”

Whatever response he was hoping for ― silence, or for his brother to say “You sure do” or to be asked why he thought that ― he doesn’t get it. Instead, Karamatsu’s embrace tightens. Like he thinks he can keep Ichimatsu safe from himself. “No. You don’t.”

The world falls still again, with the exception of Karamatsu brushing delicate fingers down his little brother’s hair. Ichimatsu’s labored breathing echoes in the tiny bathroom for a few minutes before he says anything. “Karamatsu-nii-san, I’m tired.”

“Try to sleep, then.” His voice is softer than usual, its typical theatrical notes absent. His face is pressed to the top of Ichimatsu’s head, arms coiled protectively around his younger brother. “I’m here with you.”

Ichimatsu closes his eyes, and when Karamatsu glances down, he’s giving a smirk that almost makes things seem normal.

“You always are. Whether I want you to be or not.” He pauses, and adds at a lower volume, “… Thanks for that.”

#Osomatsu san #Iromatsu #Ichimatsu #Karamatsu #whump #illness #vomiting #fever #platonic #aaaaa I love Iromatsu a lot ok #boys you DO love each other!! #Ichimacchan really does love his big brother he just has a hard time expressing it ;-; #and Karamatsu would literally die for any one of his brothers Ichimatsu included ;w;

[jeontaehui]

taehee’s official unofficial wingman

summary haechan’s one-sided marriage pact with taehee apparently has its perks — “free” food dates she never lets him pay for, an adorable poof of hair she could just tousle up whenever, a loving puppy, and an incredibly observant and witty wingman.

featuring haechan, mentions of mark and jaehyun

words 1.7k

I. MARCH 14, 2021 IN SEOUL, SOUTH KOREA

“noona, you go wait in line,” haechan tells taehee, “i’ll just switch these for another flavor.” he knew she wouldn’t been able to eat the spicy ramen packs he wanted anyways.

meanwhile, taehee remembers the confused look on the younger’s face upon seeing the longer than usual line as they neared the entrance of the store.

taehee shrugged, “it’s white day, see? they’re all lovey-dovey.” she didn’t notice the snicker that bubbled out of haechan at her distasteful tone, opening the door for her as they entered. if he didn’t know any better, he’d say she hated them, but then he really does believe that his noona was quite inexperienced in that department; her first ‘relationship’ wasn’t entirely serious in essence.

“excuse me, are you in line?” taehee looks up from her phone to see a couple, not much older than she is, standing right in front of her. her cheeks grow warm as she stutters, “no, go ahead. please.”

they flash appreciative grins at the girl, both of them taking a synchronized step forward. “were they always in sync?” taehee thought as she eyed their brightly colored matching shoes.

“weren’t you umm,” she jolts in surprise when haechan suddenly appears behind her, now holding mildly flavored packs of ramen to his side with his right arm and a peppero box on his left. he leans closer to her ear, “in line?”

feigning ignorance, taehee furrows her eyebrows at him, “i am in line.”

“about five people already left the store and you’re still in the same spot.”

“you were taking too long,” she brushes off quickly before turning back around, an amused smile growing on the latter’s features at her attitude.

taehee takes another glance at the items in his hands and gently nudges his side with her elbow, “you wanted peppero?”

haechan hums, “yeah. you want to share?” taehee raises a brow at him and a short chuckle escapes her, “oh please. the last time we shared peppero—”

“that was renjun!” he exclaims a little too loudly, and taehee shushes him before disrupting into giggles. “you’re too loud, keep it down,” she lightly scolds him, eyes turning into crescents despite her stern tone. “i was just joking, chill.”

“i don’t even know why you brought that up again,” haechan continues, this time his voice was level, “unless....”

the suggestive turn of his head makes taehee kick his foot, moving forward to the cashier as if nothing had happened. haechan tries to smile but a wince takes over his expression instead, muttering how the small (read: slightly smaller, it’s a 3cm difference) girl had massive amounts of strength. “i got injured there, you know.”

“that was your other leg.”   

the employee quickly scans their items and punches some numbers on the keyboard before giving them the total cost. taehee reaches into her pocket to bring out her wallet to see haechan doing the exact same thing.

“i’m paying,” the boy gapes his mouth at her incredulously, “i’m older.”

“i’m the guy.”

“it’s the 21st century, girls can pay for guys.”

“today is white day,” haechan presses, shifting his weight on his other foot as he raises a brow. to add to that, the annoying tilt of his head makes taehee’s eye twitch internally. did this dude just imply that we were a couple? though their faces were both hidden by their masks, haechan could sense the angry pout that was taking place on taehee’s lips. “we aren’t-“

“he’s right,” the employee cuts taehee off, “it’s white day. the boyfriend,” the girl’s eyes widen comically causing haechan to suppress a laugh, “should treat his girlfriend today.”

baffled, taehee’s hands go limp mid-air as haechan smugly slides a bill to pay their ramen and peppero. once the plastic bag is handed over to him, he wraps an arm around her shoulders and walks them both to the exit.

“i can’t believe you just said that,” taehee mutters, closing her wallet and shoving it inside her jacket. “i can’t believe— how could you say that? what if someone heard you?”

haechan laughs loudly as he leans into her side. “everyone’s just lovey-dovey in there,” he teases, recalling her words from earlier, “it’s just ramen and peppero. you can pay when we get an actual meal. and no, no one can hear me. even if they did, i just said it was white day, i didn’t say i was your boyfriend.”

“i wouldn’t even date you.”

the brown-haired boy stops in his tracks, holding taehee by the wrist and turning her around when she doesn’t. “ouch? why wouldn’t you date me?”

“you’re.....” taehee looks at him up and down, the action causing haechan to scoff in faux annoyance before running his tongue along the inside of his cheek, “you’re you. i can’t date you.”

“you know, i’m actually serious about marrying you if we’re both still single by the time we retire,” an unreadable expression takes place underneath taehee’s mask and haechan lets go of his hold on her arm. “you’re scaring me now. if you’re really serious, then i’d have to plan my rejection speech early. i don’t want to be mean,” taehee replies, turning on her heel as she starts walking.

“and what about me is not ‘dateable’?” haechan argues as he catches up to her, “i’m sexy!” taehee doesn’t even look at him, “okay and? i’m sexy too.”

“then what’s your type?” though he sounded genuinely curious, taehee couldn’t help but want to wipe off the cheeky glint in his eyes. “you sound like every emcee we meet,” she clicks her tongue, “what’s next? who am i going to date out of all of you?”

“as one of your closest friends,” haechan puts a hand on his chest, waving the other in the air dramatically as he speaks, “i am well aware of the fact you hate that question.” 

“good.”

“we already know the answer to that anyways,” he teases under his breath.

taehee whips her head to the side, “what was that?” haechan shrugs, imitating her attitude from when she had kicked him earlier in the store, “nothing.”

when they round the corner, the entrance doors to their apartment complex come into view, but haechan still wanted to know her answer to his question. he pulls taehee to a stop, turning her around and dragging her closer to him. “what are you doing?” taehee’s eyes widen, “people might say stuff.”

haechan rolls his eyes, “you didn’t care about that stuff before.” taehee removes his grip on her arm as she takes a subtle step backwards away from him. sadly, the latter notices. “well, i do now,” he hears her murmur. 

“come on, just hit me,” haechan tells her. “once you go back to your dorms, you’re gonna go to work-mode again and it’s going to send your brain to overdrive,” he brings his hand up to deliver a soft flick to her forehead by the last bits of his sentence, taehee letting out an exaggerated whine at the impact. “i am actually going to hit you,” she breathes out, “shouldn’t you not be hitting people older than you? women?”

“it wasn’t even that hard!”

“it wasn’t even that hard,” taehee mocks childishly, pinching his own ear in retaliation. haechan thought he deserved it though (kind of), but when the girl in front of him moved to turn back around, he lets out a loud yell. “HEY!!”

the older member is quick to cover his mouth with her palm, the latter grabbing her by the arms when she pushes her weight onto him causing him to stumble backwards. taehee lets go when she feels haechan shake with laughter, before tugging at his jacket in a scolding manner. 

“just give me an answer,” he chuckles, “i’ll be your wingman.”

taehee raises her eyebrows in question, her head tilting towards the right. “how do i know you’re not gonna rope them into teasing me too?”

“i’m serious,” this time, haechan walks ahead of her first, already starting to notice the amount of people that were looking at them. once he makes sure taehee was following beside him, he continues, “i don’t want you to end up with someone who makes you unhappy.”

“aww,” taehee coos, “that sounded really sweet. quite weird coming from you, but sweet.” a playful scoff comes from the younger boy as he raises her eyebrows at her, “who else?”

haechan knew of taehee and jaehyun’s secret dates and late night escapades, even helping them on a few occasions by suggesting some places to dine and have lunch or dinner in, but he also saw how they weren’t, by the least bit, in love. well, at least with each other. 

it didn’t even come as a surprise to him when taehee blurted out that they stopped going out on dates, ignoring the shocked stutters coming from mark lee who was also in the room with them. “we weren’t like, serious or anything,” said taehee. “like official?” mark asked. “nope. i guess it was just attraction— i don’t know, dude. but it was fun.”

“how’d you know?”

“there wasn’t going to be anything for us in the future if we just continued doing whatever we were doing,” she clicked her tongue. “that’s what we told each other. we’re just like, meant to be friends, you know? we’re fine with it, you don’t have to worry,” she let out a genuine chuckle by the end of her sentence, quieting down as her eyes moved from mark’s concerned expression to haechan’s unreadable one. “why?” taehee asked softly, directing the question at the youngest in the room, “are you mad at us for doing that?” haechan shook his head, “no.”

“were you happy?” he throwed at her, catching her off-guard for a moment.

she replied after two beats of silence, “we got closer. of course i’m happy.” the two boys with her were at least glad to hear those words. 

still, he hoped his noona would find the right person for her (after all, things like that aren’t supposed to be taken lightly anyways. who knows whose heart could break, right?).

“come on, tell me before the others hear,” haechan pulls back the door handle and lets her walk inside first, him following soon after with that playful grin of his. “just letting you know, no one can be as handsome and cute as me.”

“oh he’s definitely cuter than you.” (“so she does have someone in mind,” haechan thinks, but he doesn’t say anything about it).

“huh,” taehee laughs at the look on haechan’s face as he turns to her, pressing the up button by the elevators, “that sounded way more enthusiastic than it should be.”

#taehee offcam #s.hyuckhee #nct #nct 127 #nct dream #nct u #wayv #nct imagines #nct blurbs #nct scenarios #nct reactions #nct au #nct x reader #nct female addition #nct female member #kpop female addition #kpop female oc #haechan imagines

[boxofbadaddiction]

Careless

Fred Weasley x Reader

This story is inspired from a request of my F.R.I.E.N.D.S Themed Prompt List.

Prompts: 13, 19 & 23

"I'm so happy and not at all jealous."/"We had a deep and meaningful relationship/What was their last name?"/"I thought it mattered what I said or when I said it. Then I realised, all that matters is that you make me happier than I ever thought I could be."

Warnings: Swearing. War Scene - blood & injury. Angsty.

Y/n was trouble with a capital T. She was daring, confident, snarky and a massive Quidditch fan. In other words; she were Fred Weasleys perfect woman.

But it's not what you think, they were just friends. Chaotic, hell raising, perfect-for-each-other friends.

With the Twins and y/n around Hogwarts it were remarkable the Castle were still standing. But not for their lack of trying. After an especially careless prank, which left the Gryffindor Common Room with a new window, it's safe to say the threesome were there for one another through thick and thin.

Pranks however, weren't the only area in which Y/n, and Fred for that matter, were careless.

Both had the tendency to be rather frivolous in romantic relationships. It seemed like every other week the pair had a new partner on their arm. George liked to joke that, of all the people left in their age group, the only people they hadn't 'had a round' with were each other. The rumours, jokes or insults to character never bothered them though. They were young and weren't looking for anything serious - so what's the harm in having a little fun? That was y/ns reasoning anyway. It had been Freds as well...in the beginning. Until he were struck with a rather bracing realisation.

The reason why he rushed so fast into new relationships without a care wasn't so much 'for the fun of it' or genuine interest in the other, but denial. He were running and burying his head in the sand, or rather the bedsheets - as it were, to distract himself from the very chilling reality that he was desperately, hopelessly and unequivocally in love with his best friend. With y/n.

So after that particularly bitter pill to swallow, Fred's relations became a means to an end. A means of getting over her. Of finding someone to replace her.

It never worked, of course, because no other girl was her. No one made him laugh or smile like her. Nor did anyone get his heart racing like she did.

He did everything he could to bury his feelings; under piles of work, copious amounts of alcohol and an abundance of meaningless sex, and it genuinely seemed to be working...until the War came.

That walk into the Great Hall after the initial Battle is one Fred would never forget.

The smell; of death and destruction. The way his body ached and longed to rest.

Slowly limping through the destroyed arched doorway, accompanied by Percy - who's shoulders he'd drapped an arm across seeking support. They were talking with one another, throwing around light-hearted brotherly insults here and there, which helped keep Freds mind off the immense pain surging through his leg at the time, small smiles adorning their faces.

That's when they heard it.

A blood curdling scream. One of pure agony.

Their eyes shot directly to the source, on the far side of the room - where all the Weasleys were gathered around a body. A girls.

Arthur was holding tight onto Molly as she sobbed uncontrollably. Ron stood on the outskirts pale and afraid, while Bill and Charlie had a hold of Ginny in attempt to shield her. Fred's gaze flickered to where he saw George had knelt beside the body.

He was gripping one of her hands as his other tried desperately to keep her still on the floor while she writhed and cried out in pain.

She were covered in blood as Madam Pomfrey worked frantically to mend the severe wounds in her abdomen, where shards of debris protruded from her flesh.

The cry had been caused from the extraction of a particularly large shard, of what Fred didn't know.

George was running a tender hand over y/ns head, gently stroking her hair and the sides of her face as he whispered soothing sounds and comforting words in her ear.

Fred didn't know how long he'd stood there, staring in shock, he'd felt petrified - numb to everything but the fear coursing through his veins. Till suddenly his feet were moving.

A first painful step, which nearly crippled him, was followed by an equally sore but determined second. Then a third, and before he knew it he was running. Sprinting as fast as he could regardless of the pain it inflicted, nothing could stop him from reaching her side.

Barging past friends and family members he collapsed on Georges otherside. Eyes raking the ever paling and blood covered woman laid before him. George was shaking as he looked to his brother with tear-filled eyes but Freds stare was unwavering.

Somehow mustering the strength he spoke the only words playing through his mind, "What can I do?" His eyes never left y/ns wound, above which Pomfreys hands hovered as she worked.

"Fred?" Y/n cried through deep breaths, her head turning to the side in an attempt to see him. "I'm here, Sweetheart." He placed a hand to her knee. Her eyes were screwed tight shut as she threw her head back against the hard, cold floor. Tears parted tracks through the thick dust and muck plastered to her cheeks as she clenched her jaw inhaling sharply as the next piece of debris was removed - a relatively small piece in comparison to the earlier one. George continued to soothe his friend as Pomfrey instructed Fred on what to do.

They wished everything had gotten better from there. That after they successfully removed all the debris and stopped the blood from further pouring from her body that she'd been able to recover simply. But news only seemed to get worse once they reached St Mungo's.

She'd fallen into a coma. Y/n had suffered severe internal injuries and the Healers never held out much hope that she'd survive.

Y/n always was full of surprises.

She'd come out of her coma and began showing signs she could yet make a recovery. No one could have possibly anticipated the day healers would begin talk of rehab. They considered it a miracle she were even breathing.

Naturally the Twins were there every step of the way. Especially Fred. There were whole nights, even before she'd regained consciousness, where he'd spend every minute by her bedside. Nights he'd spend working tirelessly in the shops office to perfect ideas they'd concocted to help ease and enhance y/ns physical therapy. Inventions that worked so well Healers from all over were lining up to get their hands on, after seeing how successful y/ns recovery were as a direct result of their products. Hell, most days you couldn't even tell she'd been through a war - her scars the only physical reminder, to the untrained eye.

There were no doubt left in Freds body after that. He loved her with every part of his soul and that was never going to change, and so his involvement in the dating scene became virtually non-existent.

Y/ns on the other hand...well some things don’t change.

She was given a second chance and wasn't about to waste it worrying about what 'could' have happened. Life were too short for that. She did, however, start keeping an eye out for 'Mr/Mrs Right' during her rendezvous'.

Fred tried his hardest to be supportive. Opting rather to love her from the sidelines than risk hurting their relationship by getting his hands dirty and playing the game. After Y/ns most recent conquest however his happy facade may officially be waning.

It was just past sunset in Diagon Alley and so Weasleys Wizard Wheezes, much like all the other stores, were going through their nightly closing routine.

Fred was working through the registers whilst, much to his dismay, George were left to the Twins least favourite chore - cleaning and restocking the store.

That's when the front door burst open.

"Evening, Boys!" Y/n announced happily as she strode into the store. "Fred! I told you to lock the door, lest the riff-raff barge in!" George called jokingly over the railing of the second floor. Fred couldn't help but smile, not looking up from the task at hand "My mistake!". Y/n scowled up at George as she hopped onto the front desk, "Like that could keep me out." Leaning over the counter top she placed a kiss to Freds cheek, "Heya Freddie". He looked to her, instantly finding himself on cloud nine, and leant casually onto the counter to speak with her. "Hey, Lovely. How was your day?" "Oh, I am so glad you asked!" Y/n said beaming as she clapped her palms against her knees, kicking one leg atop the other. "It was fantastic!" "Do tell." George spoke, decending the stair case, "What's 'fantastic's name?" He goaded.

Y/n glared at him playfully, "Think you have me all worked out do you?" "You know we do." Fred interjects. "Can read you like a book, Darling. You've got not secrets from us"

"Especially after our little incident during rehab, when I had to help you in the shower." George added with a teasing brow, this causing y/n to scrunch her nose. "Okay, George, that's talking about it when we agreed never to talk about it!" The Twins laughed at her embarrassed expression. "Anyway, 'fantastic's name is Mason."

Fred swallowed thickly at the news of, yet another, romantic partner but still he suppressed his distaste as he normally would.

The next 30 minutes or so were spent listening to y/ns retelling of how she met, Mason. About how great they made her feel. Fred couldn't help but envy the way the mere thought of them had y/n biting her lip in attempt to suppress a giddy smile. He'd give anything for her to look that way while thinking about him.

Fred had been quiet through most of the conversation, untrusting of his own voice not to give away his utter disdain at the news. Still he smiled when he should and convincingly feigned interested as she spoke. It wasn't until she began talking about her date, tonight, with them that he finally spared himself the heartache and stopped listening.

Later that evening, Fred was trying hard to keep himself occupied with thoughts on anything but the date the love of his life currently found herself on. As George and he just finished their own meal he'd taken to determinately cleaning the dishes piled within their sink - whilst George dried, a small habit the two fell into thanks to years of Molly putting the pair on dish duty after meals.

Unknowingly to Fred, he'd been uncharacteristically quiet for the whole evening. Something his brother had not failed to notice. "So..." he began breaking the long running silence of the night, "y/n seems pretty bent on this new bloke doesn't she?" "Mmm" "Never know this one may even last" George let out a breathy laugh as he prodded Fred's shoulder with his elbow, watching carefully for his reaction.

George wasn't stupid. He knew exactly how Fred felt, well before the night of the battle.

Fred's eyebrows quirked, lips parting as he clicked his jaw, visibly unsettled by his Twins topic of discussion.

"You okay, Freddie?" "Yeah. No, they sound great. Absolutely perfect. He's bloody 'Mr Fantastic'" His voice was laced with attitude and sarcasm as he spoke.

Finishing washing the final glass Fred throws the dish sponge against the back wall of the sink harder than intended in his frustration. "Easy there mate, get you're not happy but don't take your jealousy out on the poor bloody sponge" George picks it up from where it'd landed, mockingly shielding it from his brother with an overly concerned expression. "What are you on about?" Fred sneered defensively, "I'm so happy and not at all jealous."

"Sure you are" George replied with a look which read 'really?' "Yeah no, I get it. I'd be fine too if the girl I fancied was out on a date with some other bloke." He shrugged nonchalantly as he walked back to the living room, lounging comfortably across their sofa.

Fred looked to his brother as if he'd grown another head. "Don't give me that look. We both know I know." George rolled his eyes. "Well then tell me, oh wise and all-knowing Brother" Fred bowed mockingly, "what would you do in my situation?" He walked over with an expectant brow, perching himself of the sofas opposite arm rest.

"Oh, I dunno...maybe confess to the poor girl." "You say that like it's the simplest thing in the world." "It is, Freddie." "No. No it's not, whatever this is it's not simple." "It won't get any easier if you don't try. Here look I'll help you" George sat up eagerly, leaning against the back of the couch. "You be you, I'll be- don't give me that look. I'll be y/n. Tell me what you'd say to her." "This is stupid" Fred rolled his eyes. "Don't be a prat, just...go. I won't judge." "Right, cause that sounds like you." "Fred-" George warned. "Fiiiine!" He groaned which only caused his brother to smile cockily, satisfied he finally got what he wants.

Fred looked at his brother who flicked his hair and batted his eyelashes dramatically. There's no way he can do this looking at him. Rolling his eyes again he looked away with a scoff, contemplating all the things he'd say to y/n if he had the courage to.

"Well?..." "I don't know. I don't know what'd I'd say to her or where to start, I've never thought about it." "Maybe it's time you start thinking about it Freddie." George clapped him on the leg as he stood from his place on the couch.

He were half way to his bedroom before stopping, having just faintly heard the words whispered after him...

"I love her, Georgie." George smiles sadly to himself, only just turning his head he murmurs a reply. "Tell her that."

---

The store was closed for the day and Fred had choose to have a rather uneventful night in, and so he sat on the end of the sofa reading the paper hoping for product inspiration to strike. George on the other hand were getting ready to go out for the night when came a rhythmic knock on the flat door. No need to ask who it were as they let themselves in, per usual.

"Hello, Boys" y/n bounded into the apartment, flopping casually onto their couch with her head in Freds lap.

He lifted the paper into one hand to better see her smiling face looking cheekily back up at him. His own fond and loving smile shown back. "Hey, Freddie" "Hey, Gorgeous." "HELLO, GEORGE?" She shouted listening intently for his response, "YEAH YEAH, Hello freeloader!" He yells back causing her smile to grow.

"You seem awfully happy, have a good day?" Fred asks as he begins to softly run his hands through y/ns hair out of a developed habit from all their late nights at Hogwarts. "Yeah it was good, just went out with Mason. We had a nice time but I'm just happy to be here with you losers." "Losers? How flattering" George calls from his bedroom. "Oh" at the mention of y/ns partner, Fred puts an end to his hands actions. Turning his attention pointedly back to the paper he'd been reading previously. "And how is 'Mr Fantastic'?" He sneers. "Yeah great...I think. I don't know, he sorta got carried away talking about work. Barely got a word in myself." Y/n chuckles fakely. Sensing her pent up reservations Fred can't help but resume his earlier actions, stroking her hair, but still his eyes stay on the page in front of him. Even if he can't seem to read a single word - too focused on the warmth y/ns body provides pressed against his. Wishing this were how he could spend every night, wrapped up on the couch with her in his arms.

"Alright, children!" George emerges from his bedroom, "I'm off. Don't destroy the place while I'm gone." "Oh that's right!" Y/n sits up excitedly to peer over the back of the sofa. "Tonights the big date" she rests her chin atop her arms as they fold over the backrest looking to George as he collects his wallet and keys. "That's right, Dearest." He ruffles her hair as he strides past to the door, "You're not the only one around here who goes out." He winks before leaving, a quick 'behave!' Called over his shoulder.

Y/n lays back down across Freds lap with a warm smile on her lips. "So...what do you wanna do tonight?"

---

Fred was quietly thankful for George being out of the apartment for the night, the quality time spent with y/n were more than he could possibly ask for. It felt like being back in school, when they'd sneak to the Lake or Astronomy tower past curfew.

They were currently sat on the lounge room floor; a bottle of firewiskey and several stolen sweets from George's stash, scattered in front of them.

"I can't believe you just called me a slag!" Fred shouts as y/n laughed loudly. "W-well it's true." She shrugged, speaking through poorly restrained giggles. "Need I remind you of your time spent with Alice?" "Hey! We had a deep, and meaningful relationship." "Oh yeah?" "Yeah!" "What was her last name?" Freds mouth opened in retort before swiftly closing. Eyes blankly scanning the room in search of the answer before realising he didn't have one. He nodded and shrugged in acknowledgement. "Point taken. Not that you're one to judge" he chuckled, taking a swig from the bottle of whiskey before offering it to her. "Also true." Y/n accepted.

"When was the last time you waited until the third date?" "Honestly?" "No. Lie to me." Y/n rolled her eyes at his question. "Katie Bell." "Noooo...in 6th year?" "Yeah. Go on then, when was the last time you didn't just give it up?" "What, 'Honestly'?" "No. Lie to me." Fred threw an every flavour bean at her for the mockery. "Okay...Mr Fantastic." "Noooo..." "yeah." "I don't believe you." "What!? Why?" "Because you're whipped by the bloke! Surprised he even made it to a first date- OW! Hey, chocolate frogs are NOT for throwing!"

Neither were sure how this odd game of confessions began, perhaps somewhere around the half way mark on their bottle of Whiskey, but the embarrassing dirty little secrets they'd begun to reveal to one another had them both in hysterics as a result.

"So, why not?" "I dunno he just...hasn't got me feeling that way, ya know? Like, he's great, and we have a good time together - I guess. But it's not like this" she guestured between herself and Fred, who was listening intently. "I can't seem to relax and just be myself around him. He doesn't get me laughing till it hurts. Or make me feel safe and comfortable." Fred's lips parted slightly at her words, eyes dancing hopefully back and forth between hers which seemed to hold the same emotion his did in that moment. Was it possible she felt the same way?

"Or ya know, something less sappy." She chuckled, taking a drink from the Whiskey bottle and turning away from him. Whatever moment he'd felt was gone, and reality set in with the familiar bitter pill settling in his mouth which he refused to swallow.

He shook his head, trying to rid himself of the disappointment that began to creep in. Over her comparison, in wanting someone like him, but in the end, not him. Never him. A sharp breath left him before speaking, "Yeah, well, I ah- I have work in the morning so I'd best call it a night." He avoided eye contact as he stood from his spot on the floor, all joints painfully stiff from the lack of movement.

Y/n was shocked by his abrupt change in attitude. He were no longer smiling, and there was an edge to his voice which wasn't there moments ago.

"Woah, wait...what just happened here? I thought we were having a good time." "We were" y/n stood, taking a tentative step towards him "So, what changed?" "Nothing"

"Fred? Come on, sit back down...please?" She grabbed one of his hands holding it close to her chest as she pouted at him. For a second Fred caught himself smiling at her antics. But only for a second. He shook his head, pulling his hand back from hers and stressfully running it through his hair.

"I can't, love." "Can't what?" Her brows furrowed in confusion. "I just can't sit there and listen to you talk about us; me and him." He snapped looking away from her. "Why? What's that have t-"

"Because I'm fucking in love with you!" Fred shouted, turning back to y/n in anger. "I'm in love with you and sitting there listening to you talk about how I make you feel safe - and how you wish it were him - it's ripping my fucking heart out y/n! But I'm stuck. Because I can't move on but I can't have you. So I just sit here like an idiot, watching you jump from one relationship to another, waiting- hoping that you'll care. I keep hanging onto moments - like right there - thinking there may be the slightest chance you might feel the same way. But you don't. And I can't do it anymore...so don't ask me to."

"Fred-" "I think you should go." "No, Fred I-" "Please! Go."

Y/n stood in place, staring in shock as her body seemed reluctant to move. She were petrified - numb to everything, but the fear swimming within her blood. What would happen if she walked out that door. Would he ever let her back in, or was this it? What if she leaves and loses him forever - and he never knew...

She drew a shaking breath that seemed to give a modicum of control back over her body. Her eyes flickered over the expanse of the boys flat. It were always so cheerful and warm - so why did she feel so cold? Her body trembled as her feet began to move, each step more painful than the last.

As she opened the door every nerve screamed for her to turn back around. Her head turned to the side, mouth falling dry and lips parting to speak though no words came. But the tears did. Rolling sadly down her cheeks as the door sealed shut behind her.

She was gone.

Fred fell to the couch. Any strength that were holding him from the ground disappearing as she did. Slouched over his knees, elbows digging into his thighs whilst he ran his hands through his hair.

He let out a heavy breath, a small relief spreading in his chest from the weight that'd been lifted. But mostly all that came was pain and tears from the heartache he'd tried so hard to shield himself from for all these years.

There's no telling how long he sat there, furiously rubbing at his eyes as the tears refused to stop falling. Not till the familiar crack of apparation reached his ears could he fully hold himself high again. George couldn't see him like this, he wouldn't let him.

With the creaking of the front doors hinges Fred stood, clearing his throat and running a final hand across his puffy, tear stained cheeks. "You're back early, what'd happen you strike out?" He joked, turning only to be met with the equally teary eyes of y/n. Although hers held something else as well - anger. Fred felt cold. What was she doing back here?

"Where do you get the nerve?" She snapped. Freds expression screwed between a mixture of insult and confusion. "Don't you dare, for a second, think you know how I feel." "I do." "No. No you don't! Otherwise you would have realised that I fucking love you too!" "W-what?"

"You think you're the only one? That after all these years together; after all those nights in the Astronomy tower. After all those days you spent by my side as I laid dying in that hospital bed. After all your time spent healing me; that I haven't fallen in love with you?"

"Well...well WHY DIDN'T YOU SAY ANYTHING!?" "WHY DIDN'T YOU!?"

Freds mouth was open but no words were coming. He let out a defeated breath, leaning against the back of the sofa as the weight of everything set in.

"...when?" "I don't know when I fell. Only when I realised. Guess that was the only good thing to come from that evil, pink bitch being around." Y/n chuckled sadly.

"THEN!? you knew then?" "After your first detention. I bandaged your hand and we spent the night together in the common room. You fell asleep in my lap, that's...that's when I knew."

This was all so overwhelming. So much for the quiet night in. Fred stared fixedly at a point on the side wall in thought, lightly shaking his head, unsure of exactly how he felt or what to do. This was everything he'd ever wanted to hear and that scared him a little bit.

"Look, I didn't say anything because you mean too much to me to ever risk jeopardising what we had and I- I could never find the words to..." Y/n swallowed thickly as all emotion caught in her throat. Taking his hand tightly in hers she tried to ground herself within the moment. The action turning Freds gaze back to hers.

"I thought it mattered what I said, or when I said it. Then I realised, all that matters is that you make me happier than I ever thought I could be. I never want to lose that and if you’ll let me, I will spend the rest of my life trying to make you feel the same way. All you have to do is just tell me; what do you want?"

Fred watched as the tears welled within y/ns eyes the longer she spoke, he wondered how they ever managed to be so goddamn obliviously stupid, that neither realised.

A soft smile crept across his lips as he tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "All I've ever wanted...is you." Y/ns whole body relaxed at his words, head falling in relief. Looking back into his eyes she bit her lip to suppress a giddy, lovestruck, smile.

"You've always had me."

#fred weasley x reader #harry potter fanfiction #fred weasley #hp imagine #harry potter #fred weasley fanfiction

[fullmarvelheart]

Crossing Lines (1/?)

Pairing: mob!Bucky x fbi!mob!Reader

Word Count: 3,322

Series summary: A sudden and unsettling event rocks the underworld, and Y/N is immediately called in to prepare for what’s to come. What she isn’t prepared for is James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes, also known as the new head of the Brooklyn mafia clan. When these two get shoved into a world of danger and deceit, will they ever learn to trust each other? Or will they be doomed from the start?

Warnings: Blood, gore, violence, little bit of angst, slight swearing, slow burn (more to be added as the series progresses)

A/N: I’m finally able to post this today! I’ve been counting down until I could get this out😂 This is the first story that I have written and posted on my Tumblr account. I’m a bit nervous but very excited. I have not entirely proofread this story. Though, I would like to thank my beta reader, Lauren, for all the help and motivation she gave me. The GIF is not mine, credit to the original creator! And a big thank you to the @the-ss-horniest-book-club​ for hosting Mob!Bucky Appreciation Day and inspiring me to post this story.

Series Masterlist

The sharp clicking noise of my heels, followed by the dull thud of several boots, echo on the wooden stairs leading to the basement of my childhood home. I follow the along the long stretch of the twisting hallways until we reach a door that's muffling the slaps and punches behind it. 

One of the men that had met me in the foyer, and had followed me down, knocks twice on the door as I tuck my hand into the back pocket of the curve-hugging black jeans I wore for the day. Moments later, the steel door swings open with a low whine from the give of the rusted hinges. The scent of blood and sweat is the first thing I notice followed by the image of the room. 

Five men stand beyond the doorway. The man who opened the door stands near the edge of steel, gun hanging loosely at his side. Two bodyguards stand in adjacent corners of the room, making sure it’s possible to guard the others with in. Two others, the two most trusted of the household, including the right hand to the leader of the Manhattan Mafia Empire, stand imposingly in front of a man bound to a chair in the center. By the amount of fresh blood dripping onto the floor, this wasn't just some petty offense against the leader. Which draws my attention to the final man, leaning carelessly on a table filled with painful weapons. Nicholas J. Fury, the leader of this mafia clan, and my adopted father. 

"You summoned me from my apartment, Boss?" I say with a smirk while jutting out my hip. 

Phil Coulson, father's righthand, gives me a smirk in return while Maria Hill, his enforcer, just sends a half-hearted glare my way. However, father's face remains neutral.

"I did." He spares me a one-eyed glance. "Tell me what you see?"

I hum in thought to myself as I stalk my way around to see the captive's face. The top half of his once light-colored shirt is now hanging open from being cut by a knife or something similarly sharp. But it's cut open enough to view a tattoo resting on his right breast. 

A red skull surrounded by a halo of octopus tentacles. 

I grunt in distaste. "HYDRA scum."

The man lifts up his bloodied and beaten head to snarl at me. He twists his mouth before lobbing a spit ball at my feet. The glob of mixed spit and blood lands inches from my black, closed-toe heels. 

I scoff at the action and brush my hand into the waistline of my jeans. When I feel the slim metal hilt, I maneuver the object into my palm. With the push of a small button the knife of the switchblade extends before I quickly drive it into his thigh. He screams out in pain as I keep the blade firmly in place. When his screams turn into tired wails of agony, I turn towards my father. 

"Who is he?" I ask, motioning my head towards the man.

"We believe he's behind the hit on George Barnes. Or at least, is attempting to put the blame on us." He explains in his no-nonsense tone. 

My eyes widen in shock, my lips parting slightly. 

"George Barnes was shot at? Is this why I've been called in?" The prisoner painfully chuckles, quietly enough for only me to hear him. 

"He's dead, sweet cheeks." He whispers with a smirk of victory.

I growl at him before twisting my knife and yanking it out while I stand.

"So, why am I here? I assume it's not to attend the funeral because you know I can't. It was just a risk just to even come here." My father gives me a pointed look.  

"I need you to go with them to the warehouse with the prisoner while your siblings and I attend the funeral that's being held in a couple of hours. After the funeral, George's son and I will discuss some business about our alliance with the Brooklyn clan. I'll call you with the details." I nod at his instructions. 

"You know the FBI is going to have me all over this case once they receive word of Barnes’ death, right?" He nods. 

"I'm counting on it." 

"I'll be waiting by the van." I tell him before wiping my knife on the man’s already dirty shirt and tucking the now closed switchblade into the band of my jeans.  

I'm escorted back up the stairs towards the side of the house where the cars sit waiting in father's massive garage. Though the reason for the escort is now clear. My safety. My personal bodyguards, some of my father's most trusted men, meet back up with me to continue through the house. The sounds of nearing footsteps draw my attention to another hallway. My siblings, the twins, round the corner with their own group of bodyguards. 

Wanda, the youngest, according to her brother, is dressed in all black. Appropriate for a funeral. Her brown hair is in casual waves while her makeup is mostly minimally visible. Her natural eyeshadow pairs well with the red lip tint she chose. Her normal red leather jacket is replaced by a similar black one that's draped over a black dress which is cinched at the waist. Her normal array of colorful and seemingly mismatched jewelry has been changed into a long silver chain necklace and a simple dark color bracelet. And to top off the outfit, she put on a pair of high heeled ankle boots. A surprised gasp leaves her lips when she spots me and soon, she's running to me as fast as she can in those heels. Her brother, Pietro, follows not too far behind her. 

Pietro is dressed in a similar fashion. His silver dyed hair is brushed into gentle waves. A black leather jackets lays over a black dress shirt while matching pants and shoes. He also wears a small silver chain with a blue pendant on it. A gift from his twin.

Wanda pulls me into a tight hug with an excited squeal and I laugh, returning her hug with equal excitement.

"Y/N/N what are you doing here?!" She giggles as she pulls back. I laugh while Pietro pulls me into a similar hug. 

"What? Can't an older sister stop by and see her two favorite siblings?" I gasp in mock offense once I'm released from the hug.

"We're your only siblings." Pietro reminds with a roll of his eyes. 

"Besides, being undercover doesn't really allow time for social visits." Wanda points out. I only sigh. Sometimes she's too perceptive. 

"It has to do with Brooklyn doesn't it?" Pietro asks while crossing his arms. As the only male heir of our father, Pietro is often included or informed of current affairs. Again, I sigh in defeat, though I shouldn’t be surprised he knows.  

"Yeah, father called me in. This is a real shit show and I have a feeling this is just the beginning of it." I mutter distastefully.

They both nod in understanding, but Wanda looks equal parts sad and disappointed. But this is our life, we're used to it by now. Even though it's not always what we wish to have.

I gently smile before pulling them both into a big hug. 

"Promise me you two will be careful out there?" Wanda tightens her grip on me. 

"It's not us," She begins slowly. "Who you should be worried about." I chuckle dryly, knowing she's right, as I squeeze her back before pulling away from both of them.

"I suppose not. Still, I do. Now, I need to be going soon. I will see you both later." Pietro nods in acceptance, but Wanda let's her head droop slightly. I give her hand a tight squeeze before me and my bodyguards resume our way to where the cars are. 

I climb back into the car that I came here in, and wait patiently for the driver and everyone to clamber in. The car is started but we remain idling sitting. As a way to occupy myself, I reach into the side door and feel for what I hid in there before I went in. When my fingers brush over the leather holster, I grab it and attach it, and the gun it holds, to a pocket on the inside of my leather jacket. When it's secure, I fold the jacket back over my chest, concealing the firearm in the process. 

A muffled struggle echoes through the once silent garage.

"You want me to take care of that?" I ask the men who sit with me in the car, my fingers brushing over the spot in my jacket where my gun rests. 

"Nah, I'll go check it out." One of my bodyguards, Mackenzie, or Mack as he's called, replies from the passenger seat. 

"Of bloody course you'd be the first one of us lot to check it out." The driver, a Brit, by the name of Hunter scoffs.  

Mack just shakes his head before he opens the door and leaves. When there's a few moments of silence after the car door is shut, that’s when Hunter speaks again. 

"What are the odds of him bringing up something about needing that shotgun-axe again once he gets back in here?"

I chuckle and I see the shoulders of the person next to me move slightly. 

"High." May, the bodyguard next to me and the one that I trust with mostly everything, responds with a slight edge of humor in her voice. Then she turns to me. "Boss, I was going to wait until we cleared the property,-"

"A good idea, May. I don't know much as of now, I can tell you that, but I'll tell the rest once we’re on the move."

She nods and the front passenger door opens at the same time. 

"You'd think the men would know how to handle prisoners, like that one, by now." He grumbles as he settles into his seat. "I swear, one look at a shotgun-axe would scare the life out of those boys. Maybe they'd actually listen to simple instructions at that point."

We all the chuckle as the caravan of cars begins its trip out of the garage and to the warehouse. As we pull down the driveway, I reach into the pocket behind the passenger seat and pull out the object I stashed there and clip it inside my jacket, not too far from my gun. The gold of the badge reflects the light onto the side door while I begin to put on the mask that's essential for my survival out there in this scary world. The letters of F, B, and I revolve in my mind as I stare out the window at my former home. My life is a dangerous one and every aspect has a devastating risk with it.

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

The warehouse is a dark place. Even if there is daylight present, streaming through the dirty frosted windows, a dark and dangerous feeling surrounds the place. It clings to it like the smell of a cigarette on clothes. For newcomers, like the prisoner that followed us in another van just a few behind our own, it's daunting. It's certain death. To me and my bodyguards, only our hairs stand on end in anticipation of what is to come.

I informed my guards of what I knew about the situation on the way here. A reverent silence filled the air at the mention of the late George Barnes' death. He treated his men well, was honest and loyal to his allies, and was a good man. Brooklyn and all of New York will miss him.

I stand in the empty warehouse floor, several paces in front of the unconscious prisoner, who's slumped against his restraints. Turns out the men are really in an impatient mood today. I cross my arms while I zone out observing him. Why did HYDRA do this? What did they gain? What's the bigger picture that I'm missing?  

The faint sound of gravel crunching under tires drags me from my head and has me turning towards the opened garage-looking doors. Three black vans drive in and come to a stop not too far from the entrance. Father and Coulson are the first to step out from the center van. My siblings then file out from the one on the right. The rest of the men who were in the cars climb out and seem to form a barrier between the front entrance and the four people headed straight for me.

"I thought I would be receiving a phone call first." I give father a weary glance, noticing his seriousness about something.

"Change of plans." He answers swiftly, and rather seriously. I begin to grow uncomfortable.

The sound of more approaching vehicles has my eyes widening as I turn my curious and nervous expression on my father who gives me a reassuring nod. 

"Fury." I hiss under my breath, not liking the idea of going into a situation blindly. He simply ignores me.

My focus is drawn back to the entrance as car doors closing harshly sound in my ears, though my gaze never wavers from my father's profile. A cadence of footsteps march across the unpaved driveway and into the warehouse, only pausing in front of the line of father's men. It's only when the footsteps draw nearer that I finally look at the party joining us.

My eyes widen, ever so slightly, at the sight of three imposing men nearing closer to where I stand. The man on my left is tall and broad-chested. His shiny blond hair reflects the dim light of the warehouse. His jawline is clean and sharp like a knife, adding to the dangerous air around him. The man in the center is just slightly shorter than the one on his left. A few strands of his long brown hair frame his face while, I assume, the rest is pulled back. However, the stubble on his face and those piercing blue eyes that I can see, even in the dim warehouse lighting, gives me an idea of who I’m dealing with. James “Bucky” Barnes. A man whose reputation for being a cold-blooded killer and a ladies’ man is very well known. However, any idea of seriousness is completely forgotten when I notice the man on my right, James’ left, who’s giving me a hard scowl. The familiar sight of the deep chocolate brown skin, hard eyes, and black hair puts me at ease. I could almost laugh at the situation.

“Samuel T. Wilson.” I chuckle when I see his eye twitch at the sound of his full name.

The trio stops not too far away from my father’s group and me. The sight of those two chocolate brown eyes, that look like they want to murder me, have me smirking.

“Special Agent Y/L/N of the FBI.” He growls, and I feel the tension in the room immediately spike. “I thought I saw the last of ya when I was let go.”

“You’re welcome for that, by the way.” Wilson scoffs and folds his arms across his chest. I also notice Barnes shifting in my periphery and sigh to myself as I think of how to reword things. “If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t have been let go so easily. There wasn’t any substantial evidence against you, but the other agents were going to keep you locked up to send a message. I let it slip to our boss, and he had a big problem with what they were doing. You were let free not too long after. So quit looking like you want to kill me, and maybe offer a ‘thank you’ instead.”

He goes to speak, but that’s when father decides to step in.

“Gentlemen, we came here to discuss a business transaction, not hash out the past. If you three would, follow me. Agent, you too. Son, keep the rest of our guests some company.” There are a series of soft grumbles and complaints, but ultimately, everyone listens.

When the three Brooklyn boys pass the now awake prisoner, his face turns a scary shade of white. And that’s considering the fact that he was already pale due to blood loss. I feel a shiver begin to creep down my spine, but I suppress it. I tell myself it’s because of the type of fear these men can instill, but deep down, I know that it was a low growl I heard somewhere over my shoulder.

Father takes us to one of the few offices in the warehouse and has me shut the door. Barnes sits in the chair across from Fury with both his men flanking either side of him. The only person at my father’s side is Coulson on the right, until I walk up to the vacant spot on my father’s left.

“I think proper introductions should be made before we begin talks.”

“I agree.” Barnes cuts in. “I didn’t realize this meeting would include a dirty Fed.”

I scoff but am interrupted before I can make any smart remark.

“This, gentlemen, is my eldest child. Y/N was the first I adopted and raised in this life. The only reason she is in the FBI is to help us deal with HYDRA.”

“HYDRA is everywhere.” I start explaining. “Like cockroaches in an old building. The only way to make sure every loose end has been tied up is to have all the information. There’s no better way to do it.”

“Hold up. I thought your last name was ‘Y/L/N’.” This time, Wilson interrupts.

“A cover, obviously. If the FBI learned of my ties to the Underworld or to my father, it would be worse than if they thought I was just corrupt.”

“The point is that Y/N will be passing on any information she learns about HYDRA and their plot.”

“I’ll also be keeping a very close eye on anything that may have to do with what happened to your father.” At the mention of him, I see James’ lips twitch slightly while the furrow of his brow deepens. “I am sorry for what happened to him. Your father was a great and very well-respected man.”

The only sign of acknowledgement I get from the new leader of the Brooklyn clan is a slight nod of his head, and I begin to grow uncomfortable in the silence that follows. Luckily, a phone ringing stops the awkwardness from becoming worse. However, it’s not just any phone. It’s my phone. I quickly snatch it from one of the pockets of my leather jacket and glance at the screen.

“It’s my boss.” I inform before answering. “This is Y/L/N. Yes, sir. I’ll be there as quickly as I can.” He hangs up. “I’m being called in. Send me the rest of the details later.” My father nods as he motions for me to leave. Before I do, I look over the three new faces and say in the most professional tone I can gather, “It was nice to properly meet you, gentlemen. I look forward to working with you.”

Without waiting for a reply from one of my father’s, hopefully, new allies to say anything, I hurry around the desk and out of the office. Once Hunter receives the word to get the car ready, I tuck my phone away again.

As I leave the warehouse, goosebumps prickle my skin. Not because it’s cold, or because I’m scared, but because of the pressure that’s suddenly fallen around my shoulders. This attack, this changes everything. HYDRA has always threatened the clans, carried out small or petty attacks, but they have never directly attacked the families. The death of George Barnes is only the catalyst. 

A war is coming, and blood will be spilled. But how prepared am I for what I expect to come?

Part 2

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