#<- not that there are no questionable scenes or something

[rimatsu]

setting pessimism aside to daydream about my ideal bucktommy makeup scenario and i just... keep oscillating between buck extending an olive branch and tommy reaching out first. there's merit in both. yes i'd love for buck to discard passivity and fight for this salvageable relationship — for buck to look tommy straight in the eyes and tell him that his sharp edges and his vulnerable insides don't make him any less deserving of love. that he's not blinded by the excitement of novelty or misguided admiration — even without the full picture, buck has seen enough pieces of the puzzle that makes up tommy's whole to know that he loves the entirety of him, unspoken faults and past sins included. that buck can't guarantee forever but he sure as hell can try to build the sturdy foundation of a shared life based on the hope for more. that sometimes you just luck out on the first draw and there's nothing wrong with good fortune.

but it would also be extremely healing if tommy knocked on buck's door to chase after his own second chance. to say "i want you more than i'm scared of hurting" when buck asks him what's changed in 4 months — because tommy would rather live with scars than be haunted by regrets and what-ifs. because buck is worth the risk of never recovering from having loved him

[fangel]

always, attic angel — jake [ 심재윤 ]

synopsis : jake’s hidden secret isn’t so secret anymore, but he’ll go to great lengths to keep it. he reaches his breaking point when faced with betrayal. he relinquishes any remaining sense of sanctity, surrendering to everything he's spent his life trying to suppress. ⇀ read part 1 here ⸝⸝ updated playlist

pairing : jake sim x fem. reader featuring : heeseung genre : psychological thriller, smut, yandere word count : 7.7k content advisory : dark content ⚠︎ sexually explicit content, obsessive!jake, possessive!jake, jake in general, corrupt!reader, choking, dubcon, somnophilia, spanking, unprotected sex, stockholm syndrome, religious themes and concepts, violence, blood, mentions of homicide/death, open ending - mostly proofread

“can you keep a secret?”

jake wasn’t only asking heeseung the literal question, but he was questioning himself. how long could he realistically hide you away? were you, his sacred secret, something that he could actually keep? he’s thought about it a lot. often losing hours in a day just going over the agonizing idea of not.

heeseung at a loss for words, just watches jake’s body language. jake is like nothing he’s ever seen before. jay and sunghoon have brought up jake’s odd behavior with concern, but he always brushed it off. now heeseung is here to witness it himself, stunned with his brows furrowed and a mouth opening and closing, looking for words he can’t find. he looks back up to the top of staircase, the room that he knows is occupied with someone. hundreds of questions flood his mind but he doesn’t know where to begin. 

“jake,” he says quietly, eyes darting from the door up the stairs and to the boys huddled in the living room. “what did you do? who is here?” even if jake did have a girlfriend, or just someone he’s been seeing, why would he need to act this way? with the way the air feels around them, heeseung is sure that there’s much more going on. and whatever it could be, was far from good. 

jake still can’t look at heeseung. he just stares to the floor with a death grip on heeseung. his breathing picks up in slow, deep heaves. he holds onto his hyung like a lifeline. heeseung feels genuine dread. the chill he feels run through his body makes every hair stand up. he wants to pull away from jake, to go investigate before the others get nosy or cause a scene. but he can’t. his instincts are telling him that if he moves too quickly that jake will break.  

“jake… if i go up there—” he begins to say slowly, quietly. and that’s when jake looks up at heeseung. his eyes look wild, almost like they’re threatening him. heeseung swallows hard, sensing that maybe he is silently threatening him. 

heeseung tries to step back but jake only digs his nails into the flesh of heeseung’s arm. he hisses at the sting and attempts to tug his arm away from the hold. jake’s strength is something heeseung never knew he had; he thinks that jake might just fucking break his arm at the elbow right here and now. 

through clenched teeth, jake seethes under his breath, “i’ll explain, but get them all out of my house first. and i swear to god if you tell another soul you’ll be buried out back too.” 

what the fuck, is all heeseung can think. his eyes wide from the venomous threat. he complies with jake out of fear. these were treacherous waters and he wasn’t going to test it out by diving in. especially with the tension growing too thick and too fast for heeseung to waste any time. 

jake follows heeseung to the living, standing behind him, watching and listening. he doesn’t say a word as his older friend handles the situation. he just shifts on his feet while staring into the back of heeseung’s head.

heeseung stumbles over his words, nervously attempting a lie to get the rest of the boys to leave. the words catching in his throat that he masks with a cough whenever one of them makes a questioning expression. 

although disoriented and perturbed, they all listen to heeseung. heeseung being obviously troubled with something serious made them gather their things with haste. they were rushing out to the car in minutes with no questions asked. there were many to be had, but they assumed they would find out eventually. 

jake and heeseung watch as they drive away, from the front door. neither of them say a word even when the vehicle is out of sight. the taillights fading into the snowscape treeline of gravel road is all to be heard and seen. 

there’s a pregnant pause before jake closes the door and locks it, all 5 different locks. heeseung raises a brow, stepping back slowly. his eyes watching as jake stuffs the ring of keys into his front hoodie pocket. he makes note of it. 

jake, still yet to utter a word, just walks into the living room area to clean up the leftover mess. heeseung, unsure of what to do, just helps in stillness. the tv remains a static screen displaying no signal: (1) check the cable connections and settings of your source device. the kitchen oven light flickers every so often. and the darkness of the night bleeds into the house. it’s eerily quiet between them. 

after some time, there’s a slow creak of a door to be heard. both of the boys heads shoot upward and down the hallway. layla trots away from them and sits at the end of staircase. her head tilted, ears raised, and mouth open in what would be interpreted as a smile. 

slow footsteps make their way down. the space between each creaking step of the wooden floorboards shows how apprehensive and timorous you are. once halfway down, there’s a pause. you’re standing there, waiting for a noise or response from jake. you saw the group of his friends leave, but there was still another car parked outside. and after waiting for so long, listening to silence, you had to see why jake hadn’t come up to see you, to tell you it’s safe to come out. 

jake stands from his crouched position, dropping the wet wipe he was just using to clean the low coffee table. he throws off his jacket to the edge of the couch. there’s a clink of the cluttered keys, but only heeseung hears it. jake’s already in tunnel vision. he gives heeseung a daring glare before walking away to meet you halfway. heeseung sits down on the couch, his hands folded over his lap while his leg picks up an anxious bounce. he looks at the pocket of the abandoned material. a glimmer of metals peak through the opening. 

jake walks up the stairs that you stand in the middle of, layla hot on his trail. he gives you a small smile as he places his hands on your shoulders to turn your body back around. “i didn’t tell you when to come out, did i?” he whispers with small anger, trying to keep his tone light but what’s deeper surfaces regardless. 

you very rarely made jake angry. a feeling of disappointment envelops you like instinct. as if you had to feel bad for going against him. 

“i’m sorry i made a noise,” you mumble, “i got excited when i heard them mention me.” it’s an honest admission. you turn your head back to jake and your guilt drops to something empty. the color fades from your face when you see him. he looks disgusted. “i-i’m sorry, i-” your mouth open and mind trying to find the right thing so say. 

he grabs the back of your neck and begins to walk forward, forcing your body back up to the bedroom. you stumble over your feet, nearly falling. his footsteps stomp against the wooden stairs. his hold on you is squeezing with fingers pressing into the sides of your throat. you want to cough away the feeling but decide on struggling to remain quiet instead. someone is still here. i promised to behave. 

when back in the room, he shoves you forward with the release of his grip. the door slams behind him. you lose balance but catch your own feet, your ankle shooting in a great affliction that you’ve become accustomed to ignore. your hands reach for your throat to massage the ache. you whimper at the touch. 

“it was a perilous decision, making you my attic angel.” his heavy footsteps march forward. he picks you up from under your arms and tosses you onto the bed. you bounce slightly before gathering yourself. you push yourself back into the corner of the bed, hugging your knees to tuck into your body, like you’re protecting yourself. you watch as he places his knee onto the bed, his hands too, leaning towards you. “i am trying so hard, so why isn’t it enough?” his head shakes in disbelief. “i’m just not enough for you? you want everyone to see you, to know you. why? as if they would need or love you as much as i do.” the last sentence is a scoff, spat with hate. he just stares at you with a tilt to his head. you feel that he’s mocking you in some way with his ridiculous words. 

tears brim your eyes, your hands forming small fists that tremble in a rage you’ve always felt within you. “i never asked you to.” your words are firm, a tight lip frown wears your face. you want to argue that this isn’t love and he’s just a sick man, but you don’t want to spill more tears over him. you’ve been drained enough.

jake’s face flashes with an array of emotions. his fingers curl into the blankets so tight his knuckles turn white. he looks irated and dejected, but mostly broken.

“you didn’t have to.” his face is a scowl, glaring at you for the first time. how could his attitude change so quickly? “you wanted me, and now you have me. let it be enough.” he pushes himself off the bed and picks up the metal cuff chain from the floor with one hand. you instantly try to scramble up off the bed but he’s faster; he takes your bruised, weakened ankle in his free hand to drag you into him. you yelp with agony, trying to kick your leg around in a struggle that would hopefully prevent the entrapment. but he secures it onto you with a low growl, warning you that your actions have been enough. 

with a burning gaze, he pushes you back down onto the bed before making strides to the door. he’s never been so blatantly mean towards you. it hurts far more than you could’ve ever expected. you slide yourself off the bed with urgency, tripping up behind him. you want to cry so badly, but you also want to show you’re stronger than he allows you to be. your hands reach for him to grab at the back of his shirt, a try of pulling him back from the door. “take it off! take it off now!” you stomp your metal clad foot, the chain rattles against the floor. 

layla begins to bark loudly from the other side of the door. her paws scratch at the closed white wood. 

jake spins around with your raised voice and slaps his hand over your mouth, “shut the fuck up!” he whispers with heated aggression. his other hand grabbing the back of your head, fingers tangled in your hair and craning your neck back to look at him. crazed eyes stare into yours like they want to rip you apart. you can no longer help it now, tears escape and wash down to meet his hand. your entire body is now shaking in fear. “angel, i thought i taught you better than this… haven’t you made yourself known enough tonight?” he softens in tone, but his expression and hands don’t match. they’re strong, keeping you still. 

you shake your head frantically under his hold. his large hand taking up half your face, making it hard to breathe. your mouth and nose only taking in larger breaths of air that just isn’t sufficient. fat tears run down your face as you continue to shout muffled pleas into his palm. 

“take it off!” 

“let me go!” 

“stop, stop!” 

“help me!” it’s a deadened attempt of a shrill scream.

it’s all lost against his skin. you try to slap his hand and arms off of you but it’s to no avail. you’re simply too feeble to put up the fight you want to. you’ll always be overpowered by man. 

his hold doesn’t let up. he just watches you struggle in blazing silence. your lungs losing oxygen make you see bright white stars scatter your vision. the burning tears only make it all the more hazy. your body feels weak, like it’s about to collapse in on itself. is this what it’s like to lose consciousness? weird, it feels kind of good. you use all your strength to keep your eyes open, but they blink slowly to a close. 

“please.” is the final beg to be said against his palm.

“i love you.” is the final words he promises before it all goes black. 

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 　when jake finally comes downstairs, he looks like he’s seen a ghost. 

heeseung—who was in the kitchen—heard jake’s descent with the settling creaks of the house’s floors, returns to the couch. he nervously watches jake, who was yet to look over at him, as he stuffs something back into the hoodie that jake left behind before going up to that room. 

jake just stands at the bottom of the staircase with a dead stare, eyes unblinking and unfocused. he looks pale, stuck in a state that heeseung is not ready to approach or question. heeseung heard nearly everything from upstairs. it was jarring, and enough evidence to understand that the house is dangerous for everyone in it. 

to think that he’s been here before without a clue of what was happening behind closed doors makes his skin crawl. he never could have imagined that his own friend, or himself, would get wrapped up in a scenario like this. was it all merely a matter of time? 

heeseung slowly stands up. due to the silence, even the slight sound of movement has jake’s heard turn in a split second to his friend's direction. 

unknowing of what to do, heeseung just stays still like a deer in headlights. frightful in nature as if he was the one to be caught in the wrong place. he’s frozen under the cold, black eyes that bore into him. 

jake stalks over to heeseung slowly. the unbreaking eye contact and lack of words sends chills through the older male. the kitchen oven light hums in the background, and it’s all to be heard. jake places himself on the other couch in the living room. the light flickers off and on again when heeseung follows jake’s actions, sitting once more. 

“i’ve never hurt her before,” his tone hostile, as if to defend himself from whatever he was imagining that heeseung was thinking, “not physically at least, i don’t think.” 

heeseung feels a cold sweat take over. his palms sweaty, squeezing his own thighs for a sense of stability. this can’t be real. he couldn’t process any of this. how could this be what jake is? he sucks his bottom lip between his teeth and gnaws with anxiety. eyes trained on the intense presence before him. 

jake speaks up again, his voice breaking like he’s about to cry, “she looked at me so.. she looked terrified of me, seung. and i made her cry again.” jake has his elbows resting on his knees, his head hung low with hands fisted in his hair. he pulls on his dark locks in distress. 

heeseung glances from jake to the front door. then back to jake. and then the staircase. and then the front door again before going back to jake. he feels like his lungs are going to burst, his breathing something he now has to force himself to manually maintain. 

“but fuck, man!” jake hits himself in the head once, twice, three times. his smack echoing through the room, sending shivers of panic through heeseung each time. “i-i can’t think! what the hell am i supposed to do!?” there’s a pause. “i want to be good for her. she’s supposed to help me but i’m getting worse everyday.” his hands drag down over his face, covering it. 

“jake, i don’t know—”, heeseung’s voice didn’t reach. 

“i went to church. i prayed. i couldn’t confess though. i was too cowardly to say what ill thoughts consumed me.” jake looks up to heeseung with tears in his eyes, “too cowardly to admit to what i’ve done. i want to be clean, man. but i am full of greed, lust, and wrath. i can wash my hands over and over, but i still remember the feeling. a damned confession wouldn’t take the weight of that away.” he laughs lowly, shaking his head. a hand lazily wiping his tears from his face. “and i see it every night. the stains that painted me, that should’ve made me feel dirty. it didn’t.” 

heeseung needs to get the fuck of here now. he can’t keep up with jake’s insane behavior or confession. this has gone far beyond his expectations; his flight or fight instincts are screaming that this is unsafe territory. 

“but when i have her, it’s not so bad. i can’t--i can’t have you getting in the way, or anything, anyone else, for that matter.” jake is hanging on by a thread, it’s clear. he was going to snap soon. “do you understand that?”

heeseung nods his head but can’t bring himself to say a word. 

“well say it, damn it! say ‘jake, i won’t get in the way.’” his voice loud, demanding. 

“jake,” he stands on shaking legs, “i won’t get in your way. i w-won’t say a thing. this has nothing to do with me, man.” his hands up in a defending position as he makes brave steps that lead to the front of the house. “you can trust me…” 

“i hope so, or you’ll end up like her parents… somewhere in the back of those woods to feed the maggots.” 

heeseung nods again then darts for the door and out to his car. he wastes no time in getting far away from that nightmare. as he starts the car, he looks up to the window at the highest point of the house. the light is off and there is no face peaking through with hope. heeseung exhales deeply. he recalls the smile jake wore with his leaving statement. closing his eyes, he knows that he is no hero, and certainly won’t be made a victim. 

but, he also isn’t someone to do nothing. so, he’ll leave for now. 

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 　jake’s mind is in a whirlwind. he needs to release the weight of everything that’s suffocating him from the inside. he feels as if all his organs have corroded and are crawling up his esophagus, like hundreds of little centipede feet, only to get stuck in his throat. 

he doesn’t even recognize how he got back to the bedroom since heeseung’s escape; unable to realize that some has passed. 

he stands in the middle of room, blinking his eyes back to a state of awareness. he was watching you sleep in the bed he placed you in. or perhaps he was just looking through you. he made you pass out in and from his own hands. he despised himself for it, and how it gave him a sense of god-like power. 

jake moves towards the bed and creeps in next to you. his hands find a place on your hips to pull you on top of him. the subtle movement of your chest and small breaths assure him of your liveness. he hugs you close like that for a minute.

his fingers trail up and down your body, squeezing and caressing his favorite parts of you. they stop at your ass, full in his hands he begins to move your body back and forth. his growing cock pressing up into your pussy, grinding with the maneuver. the back of his throat releases a soft, guttural sound. 

his large hands slip up your night dress and pull your underwear to the side. he runs a finger along your folds, feeling every detail of your womanhood. the callosed tips rub over your core until a layer of wetness leaks through.   

you shift on top of him, not awake, but subconsciously sensing an uncomfortable intrusion. a small noise leaves your lips, something of a whine. 

“i know you’re not all there. you’re too compliant with all i’ve done. you listen too well.” he’s whispering against the side of your face. his free hand working to take off his pants and boxer briefs. “you’re like me.” he licks a strip up your face, wet saliva leaving a trail. you stir again, face scrunching before rubbing onto jake’s shirt. 

he grins at you, thinking you’re cute all out of it and on top of him. his eyes find the teeth marks on your shoulder. the thin spaghetti strap of your dress falling from it, revealing full sight to the scarring mark of his possession. “i can sink my teeth into you and you will do nothing but watch me lick it clean. and you would still let me hold you. kiss you. and,” he’s rubbing his leaking cock against your pussy, humping up into you so the head dips in and out. “fuckkk.” he moans, feeling himself being teased with the enveloping of your creamy, warm hole. 

you make another tired, bothered sound with eyes squeezed shut. 

“possibly i have let you think of me as tender, but i will prove to you i am everything but.” he thrusts his hips upwards, his cock pushing into your tight core. he moans at the feeling of you wrapped around him, hugging him with wet heat. “i’ve always had these tainted thoughts with me. i could never admit to anyone, or myself, what i longed for.” his arms are wrapped around you, holding you close. his legs propped up, knees bent and feet pressed down to the bed, as he begins a brutal pace to pound himself in and out of you. 

your eyes open along with your mouth, a sound in between a moan and gasp leaves your lips. you look up to the man who is fucking you, confused and disoriented. you feel a deep pain between your legs and in the bottom of your stomach. you try to pull yourself back, to sit up, but jake grounds you to his chest. 

“i prayed for all the disturbed thinking to come to an end. my mind became more grotesque, morbid.” he looks at you and all you see is misery. his eyes are so empty yet he forces a smile. “i am haunted like a sick man.” i know, you think. your head rests tucked by his chin and neck. you just watch him, letting your body make little moans and chases to his touch like it’s trained to. “i always wanted more. i didn’t want to just think it, i wanted to do it all.” 

“mhmm.” your eyes blink slowly, watching the faces of pleasure he makes through your eyelashes. maybe this is all a dream, you imagine wishfully. 

“i stopped praying a long time ago, yet kept stepping into god’s house. i knew something, someone, would come for me.” he grunts, squeezing the skin on your back to bruises. his trusts become messy as squelching sounds of your pussy. skin slaps and fragmented noises come from the both of you. “in the bible; tell me, angel, who did god send to fulfill all his obligations?” he nibbles on your ear. sometimes licking and leaving his spit coating it. 

him pistoning his cock at his assaulting speed and force, elicits a loud mewl from you. you wish he would fuck you even harder. violent enough that it rattles your brain and body senseless. you don’t want to think at all, just want to see those stars again. 

jake is pissed when you ignore his question. one of his hands slides up your back while the other moves down to slap your ass. you whine at the sting. he grabs the back of your neck like he did earlier and you can’t help but grin a little. he yanks your head back and your body sits up on top of him. he feels so deep inside of you. you hum at the feeling, not even realizing your hand drops down to rub over your lower stomach. 

you still wear the faint grin on your lips as you look down at him. “hm?” 

“who carried out his judgements, served punishments, and set examples?” he fucks into you slower, focusing on your body. noticing how your hips move in small swivels and bounces on his cock. how your nipples peek through in needy points of the thin material. 

he gives your ass another slap and your head tips back with a moan, “ngh, the angels.” 

he squeezes your neck from behind at your response. your eyes rolls back as you continue to fuck yourself down onto him in severity. a slutty sound leaving you with every kiss of his dick to your cervix. 

“yes,” he pulls you back down to his face. his hand is still tight around your neck, borderline suffocating in pressure. “and he sent one to me too.” he feels your pussy pulse around him, signaling you’re close to cumming. “he sent you to me. but instead of learning a lesson i became obsessed just as my thoughts.” jake always had a dangerous personality, hiding inside of him. his obsessions becoming an illness was nothing he should be shocked by. or maybe it’s the other way around and he was always sick so he became it. “i so badly wanted you to be my savior… to tell me lies of purity and goodness.” he feels his cock throb, aching to release. he chases the feeling of pure want, pounding relentlessly into you. 

“open your mouth,” he demands with a low growl. you listen without a second thought and he spits into it. his saliva meeting your tongue only to be swallowed down. 

he pressed a kiss to your lips while you cry out in a mix of pain and pleasure as you cum. your body collapses on top of his like an act of defeat. your breathing so ragged and lungs suffering; jake releases his hold on your neck only to use both hands on your hips to bounce your body on him. 

while your body makes small quivers in overstimulation, jake groans loudly as he cums inside of you. as you feel the deep warmth coat your insides, a sense of drowsiness takes over you. 

“i feel like a besotted rot has taken over me, and it’s been growing evermore since i met you.” he whispers, relaxing his body flat against the bed. with you still on top of him and his cock still buried in you with his seed, he hugs you. “it’s killing me from the inside out. you’re going to kill me. i can feel it.” 

the quiet and gentle honesty of his fearful ending confession lulls you to sleep. 

he continues to fuck you until he’s too tired to not. 

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 　when you wake up the next morning, you feel your entire body is in pain. there’s a throbbing pain in your head, a dull strain in your neck, and a heavy ache in between your legs. 

you sigh as you sit your body up, hands place slightly behind you at your sides. you make slow circles of your head to stretch your neck muscles. there’s a pang of sharp pain for a split second but you relax once reversing the movements around. 

with lazy eyes, you scan the surroundings of the bedroom. the sun shines bright through the thin lace, white curtains. the clock reads that it is half past 10 in the morning. on the white, wooden night stand beside the bed is a note, a cup of water, and a plate of cut up fruit that has probably been out longer than intended. the door is slightly cracked open and the cold, heavy weight is missing from around your ankle. 

you stretch your arms and back before leaning over to chug down the glass of water. you think of eating the fruit presented for you, but decide on not. it's hard to have an appetite these days. 

you move yourself to sit at the end of the bed, legs and feet dangling off the mattress. you realize how quiet the house is. normally, jake is always with you when he’s home. if he’s working from home then he is next to you, or at least at the desk with his work laptop. but it’s saturday, so why would he be working? 

“jake!” you call out his name, but there is no response. your voice doesn’t sound like normal, it’s rough. you call for him again and still there is nothing. only layla comes up the stairs to push past the door. she too looks confused. 

you look outside the large window next to the bed and realize that his car isn’t there either. 

you look back to the nightstand, remembering there was a note left for you. you pick it up and read: had to run out. i will be back soon. rest and eat well, angel. 

with the note in your hand, you squeeze your hand into a fist, crushing and crinkling the paper in your palm. you stare at the destroyed paper, enclasped in your hand, before releasing your fist and letting it fall to the floor. 

the sound of a car driving makes you turn around. you don’t know if it’s annoyance or ease that washes over you. but once your eyes see the car, you know that it’s neither. because it’s not jake’s car that you see outside. you can recognize it’s one from the other night though. 

you’re quick to stand up and make your way over to the side of the clear glass. you peek over the side of the window, suddenly not comfortable to be seen. is it because you know jake isn’t here? your heart rate picks up rather quick, along with a feeling of anxiety. who is here? why? 

a tall man with dark, brownish.. no reddish hair, steps out of the now parked vehicle. he glances around before jogging over to the side of the house. you furrow your brows in confusion, wondering what he could be doing. you bite at your lip, trying to look around the house as much as the window allows.

then you walk over to the bedroom door and close it quietly, leaving you and layla inside. you lean your back to the door and slide down to the floor. your ear presses against the wood, listening to anything that you can. there isn’t much to be heard for a minute or so. and then there is. there’s a landing thud from somewhere downstairs. a clashing of objects hit the floor with it. something like a glass bowl or cup, if you had to assume. you can tell it’s coming from the kitchen based on the direction alone. 

your heart beats harder now and you don’t even realize how your hands hold a small tremble. you’re frozen in place; you don’t know what to do. jake always tells you what to do. he tells how to handle situations, how to react, how to respond. 

the footsteps of the intruder are rushed. quick feet move through the house and up to the stairs, only to stop right outside the door that you’re in front of. you feel a dangerous panic coarse through you, and unknown to you, you’re holding your breath as if it could give you away. 

seconds feel like minutes followed by a knock at the door. it’s slow and just as scared as you are. 

you place your hands over your mouth, silencing yourself from uttering a sound or a word. meanwhile layla lets out a guarded growl. you shake your head as you look at her, as if she could understand the notion. 

“i know you’re in there. i’m here… i’m here to help you.” the voice is sweet, familiar. it’s a friend of jake that’s been here before. he must have been the one who stayed longer than he should’ve last night. 

for some reason, you still remain silent. why would he come back? 

“i don’t know what exactly is going on between you two, but i know when something isn’t right. and jake isn’t…” his voice goes soft. he’s worried and nervous. 

“he isn’t what?” heeseung hears your melodic voice, weak yet defensive. 

“can you open the door? i don’t know how much time we have.” the door knob turns but doesn’t push open. it’s not locked. you both know it, but neither of you bring yourself to break the barrier. 

you stand from the door, your legs uneasy as if a baby fawn learning to walk. you grab the door handle with a timid hand. you turn it slowly and pull back the door just a crack. you look up with wide eyes. you’re face to face with someone other than jake for the first time in what feels like forever. someone is finally seeing you, talking to you, acknowledging your existence. why isn’t it as exciting as you anticipated? 

heeseung gapes at your disheveled appearance. his eyes quick to find the many bruises that litter your body, from your neck to your arms and legs. then to the scarred bite mark that’s discolored and horrid along your shoulder. and lastly over your face: dry, bitten lips and dark circles around your sad eyes. “i’m sorry.” is all heeseung can say. you think his voice sounds disappointed. 

“why? it’s not like you did anything.” you pull the door open a little more, unintentionally though. it furthered the exposure of the room when your hand pulled back to wrap around yourself. your eyes scan over his face, taking in the up close new appearance. you think he’s very cute for a second before a dread of guilt becomes you. you wrap your arms tighter around your midriff, as if to conceal what you’ve begged to be seen. you avert your eyes from his, suddenly embarrassed. 

heeseung steps into the room, and you step back. your eyes watch his feet. it feels like you weren’t given the permission to look at him; like you’ve already overstepped jake’s boundaries and broken his rules by seeing and speaking what you already have. yet your heart races with adrenaline. 

“that’s the problem. i didn’t do anything the minute i knew something was wrong.” 

it’s nice to hear something rational for once.  

“i tried to come up with some sort of plan as soon as i could. he left and i found his keys,” you immediately look up at heeseung when he mentions the object you fantasize about. keys. unlocked cage. freedom. “i figured the kitchen window would be the less susceptible.” he attempts a laugh but it’s clearly full of nerves. his eyes dart from you to the outside window. it reminds you of yourself. that feeling of waiting for jake, always mixed with too many emotions to really decipher. 

“but for real, you need to get a jacket and shoes on. we have to leave right now.” heeseung deadpans. his eyes watching yours that refuse to look back. you just stand still in the room, shaking like a leaf in the wind. your focus trained to the floor, spacing out from the scenario. 

“is this real?” your voice is quiet, unsure. “did jake put you up to this to test me? i don’t want to cause more trouble with him. i don’t like when he’s…”

heeseung begins to frantically search the room. he goes to the closet and shifts through the hanging clothes for the thickest jacket he can find. he grabs a big one with faux fur lining and heavy material, “put this on. where are your socks?” he hands it to you but you just hold it low in your hands, letting it hit the floor. he opens drawers of the dresser nearby, finding a pair of socks. 

still spacing out, feeling dreamlike, you sit down at the edge of the bed. the large winter coat still hands in your fingers, half over your lap and exposed legs. 

heeseung crouches down in front of you with socks in hand and a pair of boots by his side. he looks up at you with despairing eyes, but you just watch the floor below him. i should sweep the floors. there’s dog hair and dust everywhere. 

trepidatious, large and unknown hands pick up your foot. the cold fingers brush over your abused ankle. a sick feeling of flutters fills your stomach, you jerk your leg back from his touch. this isn’t right. something like a stray cat who doesn’t let strangers touch. 

“what happened to this?” he lightly taps the bone, “you need to see a doctor.” he tries again but faster this time. gentle hands pulling the sock over your foot and then the other. next he reaches for the boots to put your feet into. “come on, get the jacket on.” he says as he stands, a hand reaching out to you. you stand from the bed and ignore the offered gesture. 

you take a few steps forward and stop. heeseung takes notice of the slight limp in your walk. his eyes follow the floor from your feet and that's when he sees it. the long silver chain that’s attached to the bedpost, mounted to the floorboards. 

“jesus fucking christ…” he exhales, taking the coat from your hands to put it on you himself. 

“i used to try and break that whenever i had the chance, but i ended up hurting myself in the process.” you laugh a little. he sees your blank stare and lost smile. “he would ice my ankle for me though. and he wrapped it up, changing the bandages everyday when it was worse.” 

“i’m gonna get you somewhere safe.” heeseung promises, taking your hand in his own to lead you to the door. “you won’t have to live like this anymore, okay? do you have more family somewhere, someone we could call?” heeseung is doing his best to remain calm, but inside he senses immense uneasiness. you can feel how his palms are sweaty and holding too tight of you. you don’t like it. 

“my parents…” it’s a whisper. he helps you down the stairs and to the kitchen. your heart feels like it's a ticking time bomb set to explode. each beat a warning that screams louder and louder.

“well, how about anyone else.” there’s consternation. 

you stop in your tracks, heeseung tries to pull you forward. his eyes begging to leave through the window he left open for you two. “why anyone else?” you question. you feel heavy again, a boil builds in your body, your heart racing faster than you know it was capable. your breathing becomes quick and panicked. heaves and wheezes now leaving your body. “what? w-what do you m-mean?!” 

“they… jake, he…” heeseung stammers, his head moving side to side in a slow display of sorrow. he reaches out to you, to pull you into a hug of comfort. 

but you just stand there, unbelieving of what the man is trying to imply to you. “no, no… he wouldn’t—” your bottom lip quivers and eyes sting. 

from the corner of your eyes, you see a dark shadow approaching heeseung from behind. a large object hangs high in the air with the shadow. you let out a blood curdling scream, eyes looking past heeseung. the tall man turns his head around before the held object comes crashing down into the back of his head. heeseung drops to the floor in an instant, his hand slipping out of yours. 

it all happened so fast. 

you’re in a fit of panicked sobs now. your eyes can’t look away from the man who tried to help you; the man you didn’t try to believe in. there’s an open gash in his head, bleeding and matting into the hair. you feel sick. 

your attention is removed from the man when a familiar hard grip pulls on your hair. “where the hell did you think you were going!?” jake’s voice is terribly sad, loud and croaking. he’s dragging you back down the hall and up the stairs to your room. 

“i wasn’t going anywhere!” you squirm around trying to look back at him, “i was never going to leave! i swear!” 

jake sits you down at the chair by the desk, his hands place on your shoulders. he looks down at you with disquiet heartache, “you promise?” he’s fixing to cry. you hate when jake cries. 

you nod your head quickly, still having a panic attack, still frightful and overwhelmed. 

jake swallows hard, staring into your eyes. he’s trying to trust your word, and ultimately he just does. he places a long kiss to your forehead. you feel a drop of wetness land against your skin. and you just sit there, watching him leave the room with hands of shaking fists. 

you hear a lot happening downstairs while you’re glued to the chair. there’s loud commotion and aggressive words being passed between the two. heeseung is still alive. they’re fighting. 

unknowing of what to do, you squeeze your eyes shut. you curl your body inwards and cover your ears, gently rocking yourself back and forth to ease your mind of the chaos. this isn’t real. it’s all a bad dream. it’s another bad story you conjured up. 

and then someone yells. a painful, agonizing noise that you can’t disassociate from. it sends shivers through you. you can’t open your eyes, you can’t leave the room. if you don’t see it then it’s not happening, right? 

the clashing of aggression comes to a halt. and the usual eerily silence of the house stands still. 

a few minutes go by. 

you lift your head and open your eyes when you sense the door being weakly pushed open. 

you gasp and stand up, quickly moving over to jake to help him stand up straight instead of leaning on the door. 

“j-jake…” you’re crying, “hey, wha-what happened?” you’re trying to support his weight but it’s too much. you both somehow manage to make it to the bed. did he do it? did he kill heeseung? 

jake is covered in blood and he’s crying too. he simply shakes his head and presses wet kisses your cheek, pulling you down to lay next to him. he can’t say anything. 

confused and scared, you ask him again, but he doesn’t speak yet. he just holds onto you as tight as his body allows. the blood begins to stain your clothes, the bed sheets and blankets.

he breathes a ragged sigh, looking at you with wet, thick lashes, “i thought god hated me. ya know, for making me the way i am and expecting me to follow him.” he coughs, turning his head away from you, hiding. “but why would he hate me and still give you to me?” he laughs with a small cough, he feels his mouth tinge with metallic iron. 

you watch from the side of his face, crying quietly. then you feel it. the warm, seeping of thick liquid spilling onto you. your eyes track down your body and his, landing on the gash of his shirt. an open wound punctured in his side. a wrecked sound slips past your lips with your cries. 

“even if it was a punishment, you’ll always just be an angel to me.” his head turns back to face you, his mouth painted red with slips of blood passing the corners of his smile. 

you push yourself from his hug, crazed to find some material to wrap around jake and stop the bleeding. but he pulls you back to him, his eyes closing. “h-hey, hey. stop, it’s okay. just hold me close a little longer.” and you do. through all your whimpers, hiccups, and tears. you wrap your entire body into him, legs entangled and arms wrapped never this tight around him before. 

eve was made from adam’s rib. so is it really your fault for wanting to crawl inside the man you’re closest to? 

jake’s breathing is starting to become dangerously slow, along with the pulse of his heartbeat. 

heeseung, who managed to crawl his way up the stairs, waits outside the door. blood is dripping down his face and neck from his head. he coughs, grabbing your attention. 

you sit up just enough to not let go of jake, swollen eyes watching heeseung sit at the edge of the stairs. his body is struggling to stay upward, he wobbles and sways. his eyes not able to stay open. he asks you if you could drive them to the hospital, in hopes that there is still time to save them. 

you don’t take the risk of losing the only family you have left, so you do what he asks.  

 　time passes by in a blur. you end up back at house a day later to take care of layla. jake and heeseung are still in the hospital. you don’t know who will recover or die first.

when you return to the house, you do all the things that jake would normally do. you take layla outside for a walk around the house. you make sure she has food and water. you make yourself a meal that will be left untouched. 

and then you trudge up to your room and you crawl into the blood stained bed. you attach the metal cuff to your ankle, and lay there in silence. you think of praying but end up crying yourself to sleep instead. 

the first man you knew to really sin, not just true nor venially but mortally sin, you can’t help but want to wait for the return of. to be damned with him may be his punishment and your fate, but whatever happens is in gods hands now. maybe it doesn’t really matter anyways because you’ll be his attic angel, always.

© fangel ┊ do not copy, repost, modify or translate my content ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ — feedback and reblogs are appreciated 🗝️ !

꒰ tags & those who asked for part 2 ⸝⸝ if you want removed lmk ꔛ @nshmrarki @enhalxvr @jaengwon @taeminsboogers @beomsdoll @immelissaaa @pshfan0812 @supershy3 @hauntsoul @jenniferecand @randomanothercreature @numnomn @en-heedeungie @hwasangel @thatonedaragirltho @hooneverse @maliakealoha @kon-ss @laybensu @whateveridontcaresheesh @strawberrynull ꒱

[aliceoseman]

s3 dealt with some more mature themes than s1&2 did, did you struggle with that in any way or did it feel like a natural development for the characters? especially since heartstopper has been praised specifically for being a "wholesome" show basically from the start, did you find it in any way daunting to write (more) sex and alcohol into the show?

(Upon reading this back, I have only talked about sex, not alcohol, very sorry!! Also this gets really off topic but this was the only question I received about sex in the show and I have a lot to say that I just didn't get asked about at all in any promo interviews, so... Here I shall word vomit!!)

Short answer: Yes, I struggled, but not with the writing of the story - just with the general discourse about sex/no sex in Heartstopper, since the beginning of the show.

Long answer:

It wasn't something I struggled with when writing the comic. I always knew that Heartstopper would get to that point - that it would grow up alongside the characters - but the general cultural view of the show as 'wholesome' vs. the criticism of it for being 'puritanical' and 'sexless' has definitely made me feel quite anxious about how these maturer elements would be interpreted by people in the show.

I never saw Heartstopper as 'wholesome' when I started creating the comic. The first chapter of the comic leads to a scene featuring assault, and the story deals heavily with mental health and bullying. The comic has swearing throughout. Whether the story was 'wholesome' was simply not a topic of discourse before the TV show released - I knew it was uplifting and optimistic, of course, but only in the same way that most YA romance stories are. So the public declaration of the Heartstopper show as 'wholesome' - as its defining characteristic and unique selling point - did take me by surprise. I'd had to remove the swearing from the story, but aside from that, I couldn't really understand what was different with the show compared to the comic, and why this was its defining feature. And then of course some of the conversation shifted to the fact that in S1 and S2, there's no sex.

This too confused me. I always felt the sexual attraction between N&C was obvious from the start, and sex itself was introduced into the story at the time I felt was right for the characters, with no real thought as to whether the audience would agree with me. People hardly ever pointed out the lack of sex in the comic - it's very, very normal for YA fiction romances to not feature sex, and in fact, it's actually pretty common for teen movies and shows to not feature sex, certainly when they skew towards younger teens as Heartstopper did in S1 and S2. But for some reason, when the Heartstopper show came around, people really, really noticed the lack of sex, and I was very surprised by that reaction. I wonder if it was because people weren't accustomed to that in queer TV, or if it was because people liked N&C so much as a couple and desperately wanted to see them take that step, or just because people felt it was broadly unrealistic for a teen couple to wait a little while before feeling ready to have sex. Perhaps it was all. But whatever it was, it caused some... outcry!

(I could go into arguments as to whether it is morally correct or generally realistic for N&C to wait before having sex in the story, but ultimately I think people's opinion on that varies heavily depending on their worldview and personal experience, and there's no right answer - people can like it or not like it and that's completely fine, not every tv show is for everyone - but the one thing I would say is that I think it shows young readers/viewers that it's OKAY to not be ready, and how to have that conversation with your partner, and I think that's a really, really good and helpful thing for young people)

Fortunately for those who were distressed by the lack of sex in the show, and for me who was anxious about all of that criticism, I'd been planning for the story to reach that stage pretty soon anyway. It honestly made me relieved that it was going to be introduced, if only to reassure people that I wasn't pretending sex doesn't exist or that I, as an asexual, was spreading some sort of anti-sex agenda (seemed to be a common refrain among those who find it particularly annoying that I'm ace). But mainly - I'd always known this would be a really important step in N&C's journey, and I wanted to do it justice, and I felt I had done so in the comic, but with the TV show came all of those opinions and discourse, so I was much more nervous about it and spent a lot of time during the writing process trying to figure out how people would feel about it. An impossible task, and before S3 released, I had no idea what the reaction would be.

In the end it was pretty anti-climactic - it got hyped up a bit too much in the early promo for S3, and then the general consensus was that the sex in the show was shown with a very light touch, and some people thought that was a good thing and others did not. And people still call the show sexless and puritanical, so it didn't really solve that issue. (I'm just not sure what those people really expected to happen - obviously they are not going to suddenly start fucking on screen in a show that's been previously marketed for the 12-16 age bracket, guys, let's use our brains here) Personally, I'm really proud of how that element of the story turned out. I think the scenes are really beautiful and feel totally right for the tone of the story, and have let the show mature without suddenly becoming an entirely different show.

This has been a long answer but I think what I'm trying to say is this: the 'mature' vs 'wholesome' scale of Heartstopper is something that has never been a topic of discourse for the comic. But it has been front and centre for the show, and certainly is something that has caught me off guard and caused me some anxiety, because I do see the criticism and it does hurt, and at times feels incredibly personal. But at the end of the day, I'm just telling a story, and the things that happen will happen at the time I feel is right for the characters. I just want to tell the story that I've set out to tell, and I intend to keep doing so until it is done.

If we get a S4, and indeed now that I am working on Vol 6, I am thinking much less about how the audience might react to the sex in the story, and am simply just writing/drawing what feels emotionally and dramatically right for the story and characters. And that feels much more creatively freeing!

[yourmcu]

oh you get it. you totally get it. i have not been able to put into words how much i love the detective scenes. but this is it

"She immediately slow down when she saw how Agatha got nervous after her question where Agatha already has been. She stopped Agatha overthinking it and asks her again about the "case" so she could focus on something else"

oh you GET IT

It's the way she looked at Agatha in that scene.

She doesn't care about the delulu shit Agatha's head made up, she just sits there and listens and enjoys the time because this is the first time in centuries where she's able to look at her without Agatha showing her how much she hates her. No fighting, no spells, no throwing something at eachother. They're just sitting there eating pizza and drink beer while Rio has the chance to admiring her.

Because this is literally what she does. Like

She never looked away, not even when she takes a sip of her beer. Never.

And the fact she didn't wanted to push Agatha too far after that. She immediately slow down when she saw how Agatha got nervous after her question where Agatha already has been. She stopped Agatha overthinking it and asks her again about the "case" so she could focus on something else. She could've just pushs it as far as she wanted but she didn't. Instead she was just sitting there and making sure Agatha felt as comfortable as possible while she's just admiring her.

[annabelle--cane]

there's an unspoken subtext that colors all of jon and georgie's interactions, and it's how exactly their relationship played out when they were last in contact. jon thinks they left off on a sour note and speaks about her like they don't know each other, but georgie apparently only has nice things to tell melanie, a fact which surprises jon. they're immediately comfortable in each others' company when they meet up again and banter about mutual friends and georgie's weird tinder matches. she's the first person he thinks of when he needs somewhere to crash, and she is remarkably trusting about letting him turn up with just the clothes on his back to stay in her house unattended all day with no questions asked, but their trust in each other has hard limits.

if he's just chilling at her place, georgie is fine to let him explain in his own time, she dgaf, she'll lie to the police for him and barely think anything of it, but if he's compulsively obsessed with whatever thing landed him there then she is not having that at all. she assumes it's fully possible for him to leave it alone and that he's just not making the right choices about it. she says he was a good person but she's not so sure about the present. and even though georgie works in the paranormal scene and therefore presumably already believes in the supernatural, jon is steadfastly convinced that she'll think he's delusional if he tries to explain himself, and therefore keeps offering to just up and leave and get out of her hair every time she asks him to help her understand.

however their last relationship ended, it left georgie with plenty of affection for jon that he's perfectly willing to return when given the opportunity, but it also left him with the feeling that her compassion for him doesn't extend very far. it left georgie thinking that jon is fine and trustworthy as a person, but that he's given to acting irrationally and making choices that endanger himself and those around him. from how comfortable they are together, I don't think it was a case of slow relationship rot where they started to find each other unbearable, I think it was something fairly quick and discrete where they just pulled the plug and more-or-less stopped speaking. hmm.

[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

That Special Type

Rich!Subby!Wanda Maximoff x Dom!Fem!Reader

(1)Eight-figure

Summary: When you meet Wanda, one of the top CEOs in the business scene, you see her for what she is immediately. She's exactly your type.

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: Set up chapter, hints towards dom/sub dynamics

Wanda Maximoff was a force to be reckoned with. She wasn’t just one of the top CEOs in the business world—she was the CEO everyone wanted to emulate. Known for her sharp tongue and colder-than-steel demeanor, she ruled her empire with a level of precision and control that left no room for mistakes. People feared her, respected her, even admired her, but no one got close to her. Not personally, at least.

So when she walked into your university lecture hall, flanked by her assistant and a couple of professors, her presence was electric. Every student sat a little straighter, their pens ready to scribble down any wisdom she was about to impart.

You, however, weren’t like the rest.

You sat back, your pen poised but not moving, studying her instead of taking notes. Her heels clicked sharply against the floor as she made her way to the podium, her tailored suit hugging her in ways that screamed power and money. Her chestnut hair was perfectly styled, and her icy green eyes scanned the room, taking stock of her audience.

Then her gaze landed on you.

It was a fleeting moment, but you saw it—the faint crack in her mask. Her jaw tightened, her eyes widened just a touch, and her lips parted before she quickly composed herself. But it was enough. You smirked, leaning back in your chair as if you already owned the room. She looked away, but you caught her sneaking another glance before she began her lecture.

Throughout her presentation, she kept glancing at you. Your smirk only grew as you pretended not to notice, your pen now gliding across your notebook. You took notes, but it was more for show than anything else. The real prize wasn’t her words—it was her attention.

When the lecture ended, the other students swarmed her, eager to ask questions, get advice, or maybe just be noticed by someone of her stature. You didn’t move. You stayed in your seat, letting the others do their thing. You knew your moment would come.

Eventually, the crowd thinned out, and the professor excused themselves, muttering something about a meeting. That left just you and Wanda in the lecture hall.

She didn’t leave. Instead, she hovered near the podium, her eyes darting in your direction as if she were waiting for something. You stayed seated, your pen spinning idly between your fingers.

Finally, you leaned forward, resting your elbows on your desk. “So, Miss Maximoff,” you called, your voice cutting through the quiet like a knife. “Are you always this…in control? Or is it just a professional thing?”

Her head snapped in your direction, her composed mask slipping for just a second. She hesitated, her perfectly polished demeanor cracking under the weight of your gaze. “I… I don’t know what you mean,” she said, her voice steadier than you expected, but her hands betrayed her. She clenched them at her sides, as if to stop them from fidgeting.

You tilted your head, your smirk deepening. “Oh, I think you do. You walk in here, commanding the room, acting like you’ve got it all together. But I wonder…” You stood, closing the distance between you and her, your steps slow and deliberate. “Is it the same when no one’s watching? When it’s just you and someone who…sees you?”

She inhaled sharply, her cheeks flushing. She didn’t back away, but her eyes flicked to the door as if considering an escape.

You leaned on the desk beside her, your eyes locking onto hers. “Relax, Miss Maximoff. I’m not going to bite.” A pause. “Unless you ask nicely.”

Her lips parted, but no words came out. She was squirming now, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. You took a small step closer, invading her space just enough to make her breath hitch.

“I think you like being in control,” you murmured, your voice dropping to a teasing lilt. “But I also think you’d love to let someone else take over. Just for a little while.”

Her green eyes met yours, wide and uncertain. For a moment, you thought she might bolt. Instead, she whispered, “You’re…bold for a student.”

You grinned. “And you’re far too fun to intimidate.”

The tension hung in the air, electric and thick. Wanda swallowed hard, and for the first time in her life, she didn’t know what to do.

You stood back up, taking a slow, deliberate step backward, your smirk widening as you straightened your posture. The confidence radiating off you was almost tangible, a stark contrast to the way Wanda seemed to shrink under your gaze. Her perfectly manicured fingers fidgeted with the hem of her blazer, a telltale sign that you were getting to her.

“I can see why you’re so successful,” you mused, your tone casual but laced with intent. “Commanding, driven, completely untouchable. At least, that’s what you want people to think.”

Her lips parted as if to respond, but no words came out. You raised a brow, waiting, watching. When she remained silent, you chuckled softly, crossing your arms as you leaned back slightly.

“It’s cute, really,” you continued, letting your gaze sweep over her, drinking in the way her breath quickened. “The ice queen act. But you’re not as untouchable as you think, are you?”

Her cheeks flushed a deeper red, and she stiffened, trying to pull herself back together. “I don’t know what you’re implying,” she said, her voice tighter now, betraying the composure she was trying so hard to maintain.

You took a step closer again, the weight of your boots echoing in the empty lecture hall. “Oh, I think you do.” You tilted your head, your eyes narrowing slightly. “You can play the part for everyone else. But not for me. I see you, Wanda.”

The way her name rolled off your tongue sent a visible shiver down her spine. She glanced away, her hands clasping tightly in front of her as if she were trying to physically hold herself together.

“You’re…” she started, her voice faltering as she looked back at you. She could deny it all she wanted, but her pupils were dilated just from this interaction. “You’re very forward.”

You grinned, letting her words settle in the air for a moment. “And you love it,” you replied, your voice low and teasing. “Don’t you?”

Her silence was enough of an answer. She wasn’t denying it. She couldn’t. You could see it in the way her gaze lingered on you, in the way her breath hitched every time you spoke. She was unraveling, and she didn’t know how to stop it.

You reached out, brushing a nonexistent speck of dust off her blazer, your touch light but deliberate. “If you ever get tired of pretending,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper, “you know where to find me.”

With that, you turned on your heel, leaving her standing there, flushed and flustered. You didn’t look back as you walked out of the lecture hall, but you didn’t need to. You could feel her eyes on you. You could almost hear the way her mind was racing.

And you knew, without a doubt, that this was far from over.

[idcbabyialreadylostmymind]

•Making Amends

MelJay x reader

Synopsis: You and Jayce just can’t seem to get along and Mel can’t have that.

CW- Jayce&Reader and Mel’s lovers, lowk cringe, alcohol, Mostly Jayce but does have Mel :), hella ooc Jayce, voyeur Mel, a small lil strip scene, sex, multiple positions, edging, masterbation, size kink? (Idk) mentioned like once, feels rushed to me but it was getting to long 😭

A/N- started ts last month and I know this gonna flop 😭

Jayce walked through the tall golden doors that lead to Mel’s room. He held a small prototype he and Viktor had been working on for a while and he wanted to be the first to show it to her. But to his surprise when he walks in there you are in front of Mel sitting pretty on her piano and even more Mel already had the prototype praising you for bringing it to her.

“Well hello Jayce,” Mel gets up patting your thigh before she moves to Jayce giving him a small peck on the cheek. “She was just showing me something you and Viktor have been working on.” She quirks a brow and smirks as she sees you watching them. “Yes, how did you get this?” Jayce asked you, eyeing you up and down as you smiled leaning back giving him a better view of your dress that showed more of your body than cover. “I have my ways.” He should have known Viktor has always had a soft spot for you. He sniffs as he shoves his prototype in his back pocket. “Of course.” He scoffs just before you can bite back at him Mel raises a hand silencing both of you. She walked to the steps that led to her bedroom sitting on them before addressing you two.

“Why is it you two must always bicker when I’m around or even when I’m not.”

Jayce and you both got choked up, glancing at each other before looking back at Mel. “Is it that you two don't like each other? Because we can’t have that”

Jayce raises his eyebrows in surprise, getting ready to answer before you just had to come in and save the day. “Oh no my lady,” you crouch to the ground, grabbing her hand gently. “Don’t you strain yourself with worry, me and Jayce just have a few disagreements he can’t seem to work on.” You clenched your words at the last bit, making Mel wonder. Jayce was infuriated, “You’re just going to act like you don’t start half of the arguments that come about.” Jayce began hounding in on you as you; however you glared at him envy was all that was found in your eyes and maybe a little something else. “How you always try to one up me in front of Mel—“

“That’s quite enough.” Mel put a pause on the explosive argument ahead.

Mel was quite shocked she didn’t even realize the tension that grew between her and her lovers as she was too busy being well, loved.

But when she looked up at both of you it was quite a shock, both of you looked at her in a way she never realized as if she were the sun and moon. And then she realized all those times Jayce presented something before you just for you to present something ten times greater; and so on and so on. Then it clicked that you two were in a competition; for her approval. Her cheeks heated up, she had never felt so wanted in her entire life, her body felt tingling seeing you two stand up in front of her waiting at her beck and call, seeming to do anything she says. “I think I found the best way to solve these disagreements you two have.”

╰─────╯

“You want us to do what?” Jayce was surprised at Mel’s request. “I want you two to make love in front of me. It’s the only thing that will settle this tension. For you to feel each other so intimately it would be out of this world. And also I just want to watch.” She was listing all the facts on why you and Jayce should have sex she looked over to you, quiet as a mouse.

She could practically feel the warmth your body gives off, how your thighs clench whenever she even mentions Jayce fucking you. It seems Jayce hadn’t noticed though, oblivious as always. “What do you think, y/n.” Mel cuts Jayces insistent questions off and all the attention goes to you. Your throat was so dry you didn’t even know if you could speak the syllables all caught up in your mouth, your tongue felt like jelly and an unwelcome heat burned between your thighs.

“Would it make you happy?” Out of everything that has happened today that was what shocked Jayce the most. Mel didn’t even answer you, only standing up and wasting up the steps waiting at the top for her two lovers.

╰─────╯

She held both of your hands as she led you through the candle lit room, following her like Eurydice followed Orpheus but she did not look back leaving her two lovers in an anxious condition. Jayce looked over towards you and saw a woman he’d never seen before. You looked so malleable, so obedient. He looked you up and down wetting his bottom lip before looking in front of him, at Mel.

You had made it to her room. You’d both been in it before just not with each other. You were nervous, stressed and worse of all horny.

You couldn’t believe you were going to let Jayce motherfucking Talis fuck you, the man of progress was about to fuck you. You began to breathe heavily, you concealed your nerves before looking at the other two who sat on a small white couch, Jayce sat up like a prude, legs together back straight, hands in his lap. It would have been funny if it weren’t for the predicament.

Mel handed the male a glass of wine but none for you. You puff at that, putting your arms across your chest. “Y/n doesn’t know how not to be a brat, but” Mel begins glancing at Jayce before looking at you before you could say anything she continues, “She makes up for it, in other ways.” Any words or retaliation you had dissipated as soon as those words left Mel’s mouth.

“Like how she looks when she undresses, Y/N give us a demonstration.” It wasn't you to look at her with wide eyes, it was Jayce. She took another sip looking down at Jayce’s untouched glass. “Drink up Jayce you're gonna need it with this one. She really has no sense of respect.” She laughs seeing you slip the all too tight dress off of your body that Jayce never did appreciate. Your breasts were shown first, nipples already hardened from the cold air and Jayce felt like he’d been sent to heaven, had you always had those?

“Doesn’t she look so pretty?” Mel asked, of course you did, you were more than pretty but saying that would give you an even bigger head so Jayce just sat back, spreading his legs with the top of his button shirt undid he took a sip of his wine only lifting the side of his mouth as his answer. Mel couldn’t help but smile at the little game you had still happened moments before you have intercourse. To connect in such an intimate manner well Mel just couldn’t wait.

You slide it down all the way showing off your bare skin, no underwear. Jayce’s grip got impossibly tight on the glass; he was surprised it didn’t break before he gulped all of its contents. You would wait as long as Mel wanted but you were starting to get bored. “So are we getting started this century. Or does the man of progress need time to y’know progress.” You pointed down before laughing. Mel couldn’t keep a little giggle and Jayce just smiles before getting up leaving his glass on the floor. “You’re right Mel, she really doesn’t have any respect.” Jayce laughed grabbing you by the side of your neck pulling you closer his eyebrows creased upward with a smile, “She’ll get some though.”

╰─────╯

Jayce fucked you hard, your eyes rolled to the back of your head in annoyance and pleasure, he bullied your sweet spot bruising it with such force. A sheer gleam of sweat shines on your skin in the humid room. He squeezes your waist as he drags you back, your smooth skin recoiling with every thrust he delivers. Jayce flicks his tongue, his abs flexing as he holds your back down making your arch higher with one hand and pushing your head down with the other.

Mel watched from across the room a devious smirk on her face as she watched the mean strokes Jayce gives you. How your bodies mold together as he fucks you, your hips rolling back every so often; you can peak up through the mattress looking up through wet lashes at the watching woman. She couldn’t lie and say this is the wettest she’s ever been her two lovers fucking as she gawks at them in the most intimate ways.

You reach out for Mel, crying out for her. “Mel, M–Mel,” you squeak with every thrust delivered to your pussy. The Medarda looked in wonder as you cried out for her whimpering and whining like a puppy that had just been kicked, how that made Jayce go even faster as if he was punishing you for even speaking. She’d never seen this version of either of you. Jayce always touched her as if she were delicate, soft just how she liked it with him. And you well you were like a hound dog when you got her in bed. Never had she seen you in such a mess, palming the bedsheets, clenching your jaws to keep the screams of ecstasy at bay in the back of your throat. Tears drenched your face, lips quivering as you still cried out for her. Your cries and whines were only drowned out by Jayce’s degrading words. “Always acting like a fucking bitch, your my bitch now aren’t you?”

She gets up from her seat setting her wine glass down the glass clicking against the table just as her heels clink against the floor as she drags her feet to be in front of you. She lifts your face, cradling your cheeks, wiping your drenched cheeks. “Why are you crying for me dear?” She asked in faux concern Jayce fucking you with so much force you swished back and forth. “I’m not the one fucking you.” She said watching you slip into a chaotic storm of ecstasy. Your eyes rolled to the back of your skull, you couldn’t hold the screams in anymore as desperate pleas for him to stop, go, harder, slower. You didn’t even know what you wanted.

Jayce slowed squishing you into the mattress with his body mass, calloused hands finding their way between your legs immediately latching to the little bud. Your legs buckle trying to move your hips but Jayce is too big. He could squish you to death and you both knew it which was what made it so much more hot. His breath fanned the back of your neck, worked up sweat dripped from both of your sticky skin stuck together as he played with your cunt. “Make up your mind, y/n” he spoke in a harsh tone as if he was scolding you. It made your pussy flex.

He stopped playing with you for a second, his pupils dilated, and got impossibly hard. You liked being told what to do, you like him telling you what to do. Getting up you gasped in full gasps of air just for them to be knocked out by Jayce’s full force thrust. You cried out in pleasure looking up at Mel who had watched the whole thing face flustered and legs intertwined. You smile as Jayce pulls you up on his cock, changing the angle of his cock in you it was so heavenly. He held you in place with his arm across your throat making sure you could breath before fucking you without remorse.

“Don’t cum until he tells you.” Mel whispers trying not to lose composure. You listen to her trying to hold the crashing waves of pleasure back as hard as you can. But it’s not easy with Jayce fucking you harder than anyone has every, and you love it. You looked over at Mel. She was disheveled as if she needed just a little push over the edge. You hold onto Jayce’s forearm as he bounces you on his cock his tip hitting your cervix every single time. “Mel,” you whined, the woman’s eyes caught yours full of lust, “Please touch yourself for us.” You say grabbing Jayce’s hand from your hip. “Please, Mel.” Jayce spoke softly looking through puppy dog eyes as if he wasn’t fucking you no mercy.

Mel couldn’t take it anymore she grabbed her dress , shoving it up just enough for her to touch her bare cunny. Her legs spread wide when she touched herself circling her clit in the same manner Jayce did yours. Simultaneously you both arch your back when she slips her fingers in pumping them in and out in and out just as Jayce fucks you. Taking the arms from around your knock Jayce grabs both of your hands pulling you closer to him. “Cum with her.” He whispers and you only nod fucking your hips back against his.

Mel quickened her movement. She was close you could tell by the way her legs contorted and she squirmed. You couldn’t hold it in much longer, you didn’t just want her to cum you needed her to. “Please Mel, please cum.” You spoke in a small voice. You sounded so desperate, so needy, she couldn’t help herself as she came around her fingers white cream surrounded her fingers as she rode her high out on her fingers drenching them in her essence. As soon as Mel came it was like a dam broke within you.

It all came crashing down on you like acid rain your skin burned when you came, wet hot liquid squirting out of you wetting yours and Jayce’s thighs. Jayce came with you as your pussy walls contracted against him, milking him for all his worth. He couldn’t keep the whimpers he held back during sex in while he came and it made you feel something you couldn’t expect.

Jayce fell on his back shocked at what had just transversed. “He didn’t think I would only last one round did he?” You asked Mel who only giggled caressing your cheeks. “Oh I don’t think he knows what he’s gotten himself into.” Mel says as she begins to strip down to her undergarments; her house colors. Jayce only now looks up as he watches you both crawl towards him like lions hunting their prey.

“Gods help me.”

[little-jana]

"She Said No"

Pairing: Spencer Reid x f!reader

Genre: fluff

Warnings: jealous Spencer, a guy flirting with reader, kissing

Words: 1.5k

Summary: After a case, a guy starts flirting with the reader. Spencer doesn't like that at all.

The bar was crowded, buzzing with music and voices overlapping in a chaotic harmony. The team had chosen this place to unwind after a long case, and though it wasn’t my scene, I didn’t want to be the only one to say no. I figured a couple of hours with a fruity drink and good company couldn’t hurt.

I stuck close to the bar while the others scattered—Garcia dragged Morgan to the dance floor, JJ and Will found a quieter corner to chat, and Emily and Rossi were already laughing over glasses of whiskey. Spencer was somewhere, probably lost in thought or nursing a single beer, but I couldn’t spot him right away.

I was halfway through my drink when a man slid into the seat beside me. I didn’t notice him at first, too busy scanning the room, but his voice broke through the noise.

“Looks like you’re flying solo tonight.”

I glanced at him, startled by his sudden proximity. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and wore an expensive suit that clashed with the casual vibe of the bar. His confidence was palpable, his smile overly polished.

“Not exactly,” I replied politely, lifting my drink. “I’m here with friends.”

“Friends?” he asked, leaning closer. “So, not a boyfriend?”

I frowned, my grip tightening around my glass. “No, just friends.”

“Good,” he said with a grin. “That makes this easier.”

I blinked, caught off guard. “Excuse me?”

He gestured to the bartender to get me another drink, ignoring the confused look on my face. “You looked like you needed some company. A guy like me can’t let a girl like you sit here all alone.”

My polite smile faltered. “I’m fine, really. But thanks.”

“Come on,” he said, undeterred. “It’s just a drink.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but before I could, a familiar voice cut through the tension.

“She said no.”

I turned, surprised to find Spencer standing just behind me. His hands were shoved into his pockets, but the tightness in his jaw and the sharpness in his eyes told a different story.

The man raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “And who are you?”

“I’m her friend,” Spencer replied evenly. His voice wasn’t loud, but it carried a weight that made the man pause. “And she’s not interested.”

“Friend, huh?” the man said, smirking. “Doesn’t seem like you’re her type.”

Spencer didn’t react to the jab, his expression calm but unyielding. “She already gave you her answer. I suggest you walk away.”

The man chuckled, shaking his head. “Whatever, man. Good luck.”

He turned and disappeared into the crowd, leaving me standing there, my heart racing.

“You didn’t have to do that,” I said, glancing up at Spencer.

“Yes, I did,” he said, his gaze still fixed on where the man had walked off. “He wasn’t listening to you.”

“I had it under control,” I insisted, though my voice lacked conviction.

Spencer turned to me then, his hazel eyes softening. “I know you did. But he had no right to put you in that position.”

There was something in his tone that made my breath catch. It wasn’t just protective—it was possessive in a way I’d never seen from Spencer before.

“Why does it bother you so much?” I asked, my voice quieter now.

He hesitated, his eyes darting away. “It doesn’t.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Really? Because it seemed like it did.”

His jaw tightened, and he let out a quiet sigh. “I didn’t like the way he was looking at you,” he admitted. “Like you were… something to win.”

My heart fluttered, and I took a step closer to him without thinking. “And how do you look at me?”

He blinked, caught off guard by the question. For a moment, he didn’t say anything. Then, finally, he sighed.

“Like someone I don’t deserve,” he said softly.

My breath caught, and I felt my cheeks flush. “Spencer…”

“You don’t have to say anything,” he said quickly, shaking his head. “I just… I couldn’t stand there and watch him treat you like that. I couldn’t.”

The words hung between us, heavy and charged. I didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to process the warmth spreading through my chest.

Before I could respond, Morgan’s voice broke the silence. “Hey, Pretty Boy, you good?”

We turned to find the rest of the team watching us, their curiosity evident. Morgan raised an eyebrow, clearly picking up on the tension.

“Yeah,” Spencer said quickly, stepping back. “We’re fine.”

Morgan didn’t look convinced, but he let it go, turning back to the others.

When we were alone again, I turned to Spencer, my heart still racing. “Thank you,” I said softly.

“You don’t have to thank me,” he replied, his voice quiet.

“I know,” I said, smiling. “But I want to.”

He smiled back, that shy, boyish smile that always made my heart ache.

“Can I walk you out?” he asked.

I nodded, and as we stepped out into the cool night air, I couldn’t help but feel like something had shifted between us—something I wasn’t ready to let go of.

As Spencer and I stepped into the crisp night air, the hum of the bar faded behind us, replaced by the distant sounds of the city. The cool breeze brushed against my skin, sending a slight shiver through me, but it wasn’t just the cold that made my chest feel tight. Spencer walked beside me, his hands tucked into his pockets, his head slightly bowed. There was a quiet tension between us, a palpable shift that neither of us had dared to fully acknowledge.

“Spencer,” I said softly, breaking the silence.

He glanced at me, his hazel eyes warm but uncertain. “Yeah?”

“I meant what I said earlier. Thank you.” I stopped walking, turning to face him. “Not just for stepping in tonight, but… for always looking out for me.”

He stopped too, his gaze locking with mine. “You don’t have to thank me for that,” he said, his voice low. “I’d do it a hundred times over.”

The sincerity in his words sent a wave of warmth through me, and for a moment, I forgot about the chill in the air. “You mean that?”

“Of course I do.” His voice was steady, but his expression softened, as if he were letting a part of himself show that he usually kept hidden. “You mean… so much to me.”

My breath caught in my throat. He’d always been careful with his words, always measured. But there was nothing calculated about the way he was looking at me now, like he was on the edge of saying something that could change everything.

“You mean a lot to me too, Spencer,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

He smiled, that shy, vulnerable smile that made my heart ache. “You know, I’m not… the best at expressing how I feel. But tonight, when that guy wouldn’t leave you alone…” He paused, running a hand through his hair, clearly searching for the right words. “It made me realize I can’t keep pretending I don’t feel this way about you. I can’t keep pretending I don’t—”

“Spencer,” I interrupted gently, stepping closer to him.

He froze, his eyes searching mine. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to make this awkward or ruin anything, but I—”

“You’re not ruining anything,” I said, cutting him off again. “I promise.”

He blinked, his mouth opening and closing as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words.

So, I took the leap for both of us. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted you to say something like this?” I asked, my cheeks warming as I admitted it out loud.

His eyes widened slightly. “You have?”

I nodded, a soft laugh escaping me. “You’re kind of oblivious, you know that?”

A small, embarrassed smile tugged at his lips. “I’ve been told that before.”

I stepped even closer, so close that I could feel the warmth radiating from him. “You don’t have to be afraid, Spencer. I feel the same way.”

The tension between us seemed to shift then, no longer heavy with uncertainty but something lighter, warmer, filled with hope. He let out a breath he must have been holding, and his shoulders relaxed slightly.

“Can I—” He hesitated, his voice trailing off.

“Yes,” I said softly, not needing him to finish the question.

He didn’t move right away, his eyes scanning my face as if committing every detail to memory. Then, slowly, he reached out, his hand brushing against my cheek. His touch was gentle, almost hesitant, but it sent a shiver down my spine.

And then he kissed me.

It was soft at first, tentative, like he was still afraid of crossing a line. But as I leaned into him, threading my fingers through his hair, the kiss deepened. There was something intoxicating about the way he kissed—equal parts tender and desperate, like he’d been waiting for this moment just as long as I had.

When we finally pulled apart, we were both breathless, our foreheads resting against each other. His hand was still on my cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against my skin.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

I smiled, my heart swelling at the vulnerability in his words. “You don’t have to do anything, Spencer. You’re enough just as you are.”

His eyes searched mine, and for the first time, I saw something in them I’d never noticed before—hope.

“I don’t want this to change anything,” he said quietly. “I don’t want to lose what we have.”

“You’re not going to lose me,” I promised, my voice steady. “This just makes what we have even better.”

He smiled then, a genuine, unguarded smile that made my chest feel warm. “I don’t know how I got so lucky.”

I laughed softly, brushing a strand of hair out of his face. “I think I’m the lucky one.”

We stood there for a while, wrapped in the quiet of the night and the warmth of each other. The world around us seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of us in this perfect, fragile moment.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, I wasn’t afraid of what came next.

[nyxs2]

Ma Meilleure Ennemie (pt 6/?)

Choosing your poison is easy; it's living with the consequences that truly haunts you. Silco's venom is intoxicating, and deep down, you know it will be the death of you, yet you find yourself craving every drop.

Silco x fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+, MDNI)

Word Count: 7,6K

Warnings: smut, resolved sexual tension, light bondage, unprotected sex, creampie, praise kink, biting, possessive behavior, you are a prostitute, slight hints of reader's past, sex and restrained freedom being terms of a agreement, Silco (and Sevika) POV

Set before the events of Act 2 of the first season of Arcane.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

━━ Sevika's Pov ━━

Sevika had two absolute certainties in life. The first was never to hesitate, because in the undercity, one second too long could cost you your life. The second, even more important, was never to meddle in Silco's personal affairs unless he directly ordered it. These seemingly simple rules had ensured her survival and her position alongside the most powerful man in Zaun. So why, in the name of everything sacred—or profane, in this case—was she standing there, hand halfway to the door of his office, reconsidering what seemed to be a trivial task?

The noise on the other side made her hesitate. Wood creaking, muffled but rhythmic. It didn't take a genius to figure out what was going on in there. Sevika raised an eyebrow, already feeling a mix of embarrassment and exasperation bubbling up. Seriously, boss?

She huffed as she debated internally whether it was worth interrupting or if it would be better to just come back later. She opted for the latter. It was safer—for both of them.

Turning back down the hallway, she spotted two guards posted near the stairs. "Hey!" she called, her deep voice cutting through the silence. "Don't let anyone upstairs, especially that blue-haired brat."

The two nodded without question, though one of them looked briefly confused before returning to his watch. Sevika didn't explain. It wasn't necessary, and she didn't have the patience to deal with stupid questions.

Back at the bar, she plopped herself down on one of the stools, resting her right forearm on the counter as she observed the nearly empty room. The night was already wearing thin, with only a few stubborn, lonely drunks still clinging to their bottles and cigarettes. She allowed a tired smile to slip, one that quickly turned into a low, ironic laugh.

If someone had told me Silco would ditch his paperwork to fuck, I'd have laughed in their face.

It was surreal. The man was the very definition of a workaholic, always with his head buried in conspiracies and strategies to keep Zaun under control. But two months ago, everything changed. Out of nowhere, Silco approached her asking about a decent brothel in the city. She didn't question it, because, after all, who was she to judge? Everyone needs a little relief now and then.

But things had taken an unexpected turn. She knew the girl—maybe too well. Those big, deceptively innocent eyes always hiding something. Sevika had always known there was more behind that angelic façade. Maybe that's exactly what had drawn Silco in. And, frankly, she even agreed: good taste couldn't be denied.

The sound of a glass sliding across the counter pulled her from her thoughts. The bartender was looking at her, wearing the expression of someone who already knew what she wanted. Sevika grabbed the glass and downed the amber liquid in one go.

"Another." she ordered curtly, pushing the glass back toward him.

As she waited, Sevika let her eyes wander around the room, though her mind was still stuck on the scene. Silco, so methodical, so controlled... and now? Succumbing to his own desires. He wasn't even completely sure that it was the same woman from years ago, and yet he orchestrated all of this to have her around. She wasn't sure whether to find it amusing or concerning. 

Whatever he's scheming, it better be worth the effort.

When the next glass arrived, she held it between her fingers, swirling the liquid before taking another long sip. At least tonight, she'd allow herself a few moments of peace.

"Tough night?" the bartender asked, his tone casual, as if he already knew the answer.

Sevika grunted, not even bothering to look up. Small talk was far from her priority. She emptied the glass in one gulp, feeling the warmth of the whiskey burn its way down her throat, momentarily easing the irritation brewing inside her.

"Is it true Silco's keeping a girl up there?" the bartender let slip, leaning over the counter with barely concealed curiosity. His voice was low, but the words carried too much weight for Sevika's liking.

She paused, spinning the empty glass between her fingers before glaring at him over the rim with evident impatience.

"Who told you that?"

"One of the morning shift guards." the man shrugged like it was no big deal. "Said they were ordered to let a woman in but not out. Thought kidnapped folks stayed at the warehouse, not here."

Sevika scoffed, rolling her eyes as she poured herself another drink. It was always the same with people like that: gossips who didn't know when to keep their mouths shut.

"She's different."

The bartender simply nodded, wiping the counter with a rag that, to Sevika, seemed more dirty than useful. Finally, silence returned, and she silently thanked the universe for the reprieve. Or at least for a few seconds. Because, of course, he couldn't keep his mouth shut for long.

"Wait! That woman, is she THAT... prostitute?" he asked, his voice laden with a curiosity that bordered on offensive.

Before Sevika could deliver a cutting response, a high-pitched voice sliced through the room like a knife.

"What's a prostitute?"

Sevika turned her head toward the voice, as did the bartender, and both found Jinx standing at the damned bar counter, hands on her hips and her eyes sparkling with curiosity, as if she were genuinely interested in the answer.

"How the hell did you get here at this hour?" Sevika asked, slamming her glass onto the table with force. Her patience, already worn thin, was nearly gone. "Shouldn't you be in your room or, I don't know, in your cage?"

Jinx made a face, an attempt at intimidation that wouldn't have scared a mouse.

"I don't live in a cage, you one-armed brute."

Sevika rolled her eyes. "Great. Just what I needed." without another word, she slid off the stool, grabbed the girl without any care, and slung her over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

"Hey! Put me down, you savage!" Jinx started thrashing, kicking the air and grumbling like a feral cat.

Sevika kept walking, unbothered. She was used to the brat's dramatics, but her patience wasn't infinite, especially after the night she'd already endured.

"Keep squirming like that, and I'll let you fall flat on your face." Sevika muttered, an empty threat she'd never dare follow through on, considering how much Silco doted on the girl. "You're not going upstairs."

Sevika thought about how the situation had spiraled into something even more ridiculous than she'd anticipated. Not that she really cared about Jinx—"Babysitter? Not a chance in hell."—but the last thing she wanted was to deal with the trauma of a kid discovering what her "dad" did behind closed doors. Even Zaun had its limits to chaos.

Jinx ignored the threat entirely, her fists pounding against Sevika's back with as much force as her skinny arms could muster. "Why not? Is it because of that prostitute? I don't even know what that is!"

"If you stop squirming, I'll tell you on the way."

To Sevika's surprise, Jinx actually went quiet.

Silco's Pov ━━━━━━━༺༻━━━━━━━

Silco looked at her body, her hair spread over the table as he thrust into her from behind. He loved how her skin felt against his, and the way she moaned softly whenever he touched her. Her body was so soft and warm, and he couldn't get enough of it. He held her wrists tightly behind her back as he pounded into her, his hips slapping against her ass with each thrust. Silco could feel his own pleasure building up inside him, but he held back, wanting to make this last as long as possible. He wanted to savor every moment of having she beneath him, submitting to his every desire.

Silco's thoughts were a jumbled mess of lust and desire. He loved how responsive she was to his touch, how she seemed to melt under him as he claimed her body. He knew he was being rough with her, but he couldn't help himself. The rough, animalistic nature of their coupling was a stark contrast to the refined elegance of his office, and he reveled in the delicious contradiction.

As he fucked her harder and faster, Silco leaned down and bit her shoulder, leaving a mark on her skin, which made her whine even more. He loved the idea of claiming her, of making sure everyone knew that she belonged to him now. She was his, and his alone, and he would make sure she never forgot it.

"My lovely dove." he growled into her ear, his breath hot against her skin. "All mine."

Silco felt her body trembling beneath him as he continued to thrust into her, his grip on her wrists loosening slightly. He could feel her pushing back against him, her hips meeting his with each stroke. He released her wrists completely and pulled her back against his chest, wrapping one arm around her waist and the other snaking up to grip her throat lightly. He didn't squeeze, just held her in place as he slowed his pace, savoring the feel of her tight heat surrounding him.

Silco's mind drifted to thoughts of the future, he would keep her by his side for a long time, that was for sure. He had no intention of losing her and even though his thoughts darkened, imagining every single thing he would do to her, Silco found himself becoming increasingly tender with her. He wanted to worship her body, to show her the depths of his desire even though she was angry with him and technically just doing her part of the deal. But for now, he contented himself with the feel of her in his arms, her body pressed against his as he continued to thrust into her.

"That's it..." his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered to her. "You're doing so well for me."

He wondered if she knew what she was getting herself into, if she understood the depths of having made that deal. She herself had said that accepting something from him was not so different from agreeing with the devil, which ironically she had done. But then again, he didn't really care. All that mattered was that she was his now. The thought sent a shiver of excitement down his spine, and he thrust harder, deeper, claiming her body as his own.

Silco's hand slid down from her hip to between her legs, his fingers finding her clit. He rubbed slow, firm circles, matching the rhythm of his thrusts. He could feel her tensing beneath him, her breath coming faster and harder. He knew she was close.

He leaned down and nuzzled her neck, his lips brushing against her skin as he whispered to her. "You're so beautiful like this." he murmured, his voice low and husky with desire. "It's okay... Let go. I've got you."

Silco continued to rub her clit, his fingers slick with her arousal. He could feel her tensing beneath him, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. And then, with a final thrust of his hips, he felt her coming undone. Her walls clenched around him, her body shaking with the force of her orgasm. He held her close, his arm wrapped tightly around her waist as he continued to thrust, drawing out her pleasure for as long as possible.

Only then, when he knew she had finished, did he allow himself to let go. With a harsh groan, he buried himself deep inside her, his own release pulsing through him. He collapsed against her back, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath.

Silco pulled out of her slowly, savoring the feeling of her walls fluttering around him as he withdrew. He stood for a moment, watching as she collapsed onto the table, her body spent and limp. He couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction, of pride, at having brought her to such heights of pleasure.

He moved to his chair and sat down, his gauze never leaving her as he fixed his pants. She looked so small, so fragile like this. It was a stark contrast to the strong, defiant woman he knew

He leaned forward and grabbed her by the waist, pulling her off the table and onto his lap. He didn't care about the mess, about the fluids smearing across his pants. All he cared about was having her close, feeling her warmth against his skin.He wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight against his chest. He could feel her heartbeat, slow and steady, matching his own. He knew he should let her go, let her clean up and rest. But he couldn't bring himself to do it. He wanted to keep her here, in his arms, for as long as possible.

Even though the weight of exhaustion clawed at his every muscle, Silco refused to relinquish her. His arms remained locked around her, firm yet careful, as if afraid she might slip away the moment he loosened his grip. The embrace was neither casual nor fleeting—it lingered, speaking volumes in the silence. It was an act that could mean many things: dominance, possession, a fleeting moment of vulnerability. But most disturbingly, in a way so distorted it almost felt like sin—affection.

Her head rested against his shoulder, her breathing still uneven, the faint tremor in her body betraying just how far she'd been pushed. He rested his chin on top of her head, breathing in the scent of her hair.

She was undone. Raw. Stripped of the mask she so often wore—the provocative, infuriating facade that seemed designed solely to challenge him at every turn. Here, in his arms, she was something closer to her truest self, a woman laid bare by the weight of her own humanity.

And God help him, he enjoyed both versions.

The stubborn, sharp-tongued temptress who dared to stand toe-to-toe with him, who infuriated and intrigued him in equal measure—that version of her was a spark, a fire he couldn't help but want to stoke. But this? This quieter, unguarded moment? This was something else entirely. A glimpse of the woman beneath the armor.

His hand moved almost unconsciously, fingers brushing against the damp strands of her hair before trailing down to rest at the nape of her neck. His touch was uncharacteristically gentle, a rare softness that would have shocked anyone who knew him. And though he told himself it was a fleeting act of charity, of magnanimity, the truth was far more selfish. He simply liked holding her this way.

"You'll ruin me."

Her voice was barely a whisper, so faint it might have been lost in the stillness of the room if not for the fact that Silco was holding her so close. It was raw, unguarded, and it hung in the air between them like the blade of a guillotine, poised to fall.

He didn't respond. He didn't need to. Her words weren't a question, nor did they require an answer. They were a truth, a bitter acknowledgment of the tangled web they'd both willingly stepped into. And it wasn't as if he could deny it, anyway. Ruin was inevitable, and it was something she had said herself during their earlier clash. This was simply the echo of her own warning, now laden with the weight of their proximity.

Silco tightened his grip around her in lieu of words, pulling her just a fraction closer, as if to say, Yes, I will. And you'll let me.

"Rest." he commanded, his voice softer now, though still tinged with that unyielding authority that brooked no argument. His hand splayed firmly across her back, anchoring her against him. "For once, don't argue. Just rest."

Without resistance, she surrendered to sleep in his arms, her breathing evening out as her body grew heavy with exhaustion. Silco stayed there, unmoving, his eyes half-lidded as he stared out into the dim haze of Zaun's morning light filtering faintly through the industrial gloom. The sounds of the city, muted and distant, echoed faintly through the room: the hiss of steam pipes, the clatter of machinery, and the occasional murmur of voices far below. It was a sound he'd grown so accustomed to that it often faded into the background, yet in this moment, it seemed louder, more insistent.

His eyes drifted to the ceiling, tracing the familiar cracks and shadows that had once provided solace in the solitude of his nights. But this morning, they seemed to mock him. Unbidden, the memory crept in — that bridge, the suffocating smoke, the acrid sting of betrayal. He could almost hear the anguished screams and the crackle of fire, smell the blood and oil mingling in the air. That day had been a reckoning, one where every choice he made seemed to collapse beneath the weight of inevitability.

The bridge where Felicia died.

The bridge where Vander betrayed him.

Silco's jaw tightened, and he exhaled sharply through his nose, as if expelling the memory itself. He would not dwell on it. What was done could not be undone, and revisiting the past served no purpose. Regret was for the weak, and Silco had no patience for weakness — not in others, and certainly not in himself.

Still, the ghost of that day lingered at the edges of his mind, a specter of all that had gone wrong. Choices that had seemed so clear, so righteous at the time, had led only to ruin. The kind of ruin that left scars too deep to heal, both on the body and on the soul.

His fingers twitched slightly, tightening their hold on her for just a moment before loosening again. She stirred faintly in her sleep but didn't wake, her face soft and unguarded in a way that tugged at something deep within him.

Ruins were where he had been forged. And if ruin was where he would return, he would do so on his own terms.

━━━━━━━༺༻━━━━━━━

You felt your body sinking. The underwater currents were relentless, tossing you back and forth like a lifeless ragdoll as the darkness closed in around you. You realized the faint shimmer of the surface was growing farther and farther away. But, strangely, there was no panic. There was no desperation to fight, no frantic hands trying to reach for that light. Something inside you decided that here, in the depths, would be your final resting place.

The silence of the water, the relentless cold, the sense of abandonment. It all made a morbid kind of sense. You let your arms float beside you, surrendering to the darkness that clouded your vision.

But then, something changed.

You felt a tug at the collar of your shirt—rough and unexpected. There was no gentleness in the motion, only urgency. You tried to open your eyes, but the water burned your retinas, leaving everything blurred. Still, you could tell you were rising—fast. The muffled sound of the water became a chaotic mix of bubbles and currents. Something—or someone—was determined to save you.

"Stay with me, little one. Hold on."

Then you finally managed to open your eyes. The cracked ceiling, marked by softly dancing shadows, was the first thing you saw as you returned to reality. There was no longer the sensation of being submerged, nor the voice that had seemed so close just moments before. Vander's voice had felt so real, but now it was just a distant echo, as unreachable as the rest of your memories. A deep emptiness settled over you. It had been so long since you'd felt something like this. Maybe since... Well, better not to think about it.

Sitting up slowly, you took a better look at the room around you. It was comfortable, simple, functional. It had everything a room needed but lacked any personal touch, giving it a cold, almost impersonal feel. The lighting was far too dim for your taste, with shadows pooling in the corners.

That's when you noticed: your clothes were arranged neatly, as was your lower body, with no trace of what you had done hours earlier on that damned table. Silco had likely cleaned and adjusted everything. He'd even ensured you rested without wrecking your back, unlike before on the couch—ironic, coming from someone like him. On the nightstand, a pitcher of water and a glass waited for you, without notes, without explanations.

You poured yourself a glass, feeling the cool liquid soothe the dryness in your throat as you leaned back against the headboard. The weight of the situation finally hit you. You were screwed, weren't you?

For someone who prided themselves on being immune to Silco's games, who claimed—proudly—that they'd never be manipulated, here you were: completely caught in his web. And worse, you were here willingly.

But it had to be worth it. It had to be.

Your mind spun, piecing together the fragments of information you had gathered so far. Silco and his supposed "daughter." Jinx. It was impossible to ignore the gaping hole this story left in your reasoning. Silco had no wife, and absolutely nothing about the man suggested he could have maintained a relationship close enough to father a child. In fact, you might be the closest thing to that.

So why had Finn hinted that Jinx was a scandal?

You pieced the fragments together hesitantly, almost afraid of what it might mean. What if Jinx was... Powder?

The thought was absurd. Or, perhaps, not so much. After the night of the massacre, the only bodies reportedly found were those of Vander, Mylo, and Claggor. There was no trace of Violet or Powder. It was unlikely that both had survived, but unlikely didn't mean impossible.

What if Powder was alive? What if Silco had found her in the chaos and taken her in? The idea was horrifying, yet it made a disturbing amount of sense. Could that be the origin of the scandal? That Silco had taken Powder, turning her into the weapon he now called Jinx?

You closed your eyes for a moment, trying to organize your thoughts. It was all speculation. You had no proof, just disconnected hints. But it didn't matter. You would find out who Jinx was, no matter the cost. And if there was even the slightest chance of finding Violet or Powder, you wouldn't waste it. You had made a promise to Vander on his deathbed. You would find and protect his daughters, and Silco might just be the key to achieving that.

If the hunt for Jinx led nowhere, you could still use Silco's resources covertly to track down anything about them. Even if it was just their bones so you could finally have some closure.

You didn't know how long you sat there lost in thought until your own body protested from staying in the same position for too long.

Rising from the bed with your resolve renewed, you stretched slightly, your muscles still complaining from the strain. You crossed the room toward the door, but before you could touch it, it was abruptly opened. Standing before you was that same tattooed man from the previous morning, his face carrying the same expression of near-permanent indifference. He tilted his chin up in a simple gesture before saying:

"Silco wants to see you."

Without even waiting for your response, he turned and began walking down the corridor. You hesitated for a moment but eventually followed. As you walked, you noticed how the Last Drop was surprisingly busy for that time of morning. Men and women were engaged in various tasks, carrying crates, adjusting equipment, and speaking in hushed tones. It was a completely different scene from the almost ghostly atmosphere of the day before when you had arrived.

Not that you were surprised by this change, not after everything Silco had been pulling.

You arrived at the infamous door to Silco's office. The tattooed man knocked twice, firmly, before announcing: "Sir, I've brought her."

The response came almost instantly, and the door opened, revealing a familiar figure.

Ah, yes. Her.

The woman was there, her imposing presence intact, though her eyes carried a weary air, as if she hadn't slept in weeks. There was something both unsettling and captivating about her posture—her shoulders squared, her chin slightly tilted upward, as if daring the world to knock her down. For a brief moment, your eyes met. You held her gaze, tilting your head slightly, until a memory flashed in your mind like lightning.

Oh...

Now you remembered where you knew her from.

She seemed to notice your realization, but said nothing. She simply stepped aside, creating space for you to enter the office.

You crossed the room with the confidence of someone who felt at home—even if you weren't. Your steps echoed lightly in the space as you stopped in front of Silco's desk. He held some papers in his hands, apparently reports, his eyes scanning the text with calm precision. He didn't bother to look at you, as if your presence was expected but not significant enough to interrupt his focus.

You stopped in front of him, crossing your arms and shifting your weight slightly to one side. "Should I assume I've been summoned for something important, or did you just want my company this morning?"

He merely gestured with his hand, dismissing the two people still in the office. Yet, even as the door closed, he remained in that position for a few more seconds, calmly finishing whatever was written on the papers before setting them aside. Only then did he lean back in his chair.

"Well, keeping me company is part of your new job, isn't it?" His voice was low and velvety, carrying a familiarity that bothered you as much as it intrigued you. With a lazy gesture, he indicated the chair in front of him. "Sit. We have matters to discuss."

Without wasting time, you settled into the chair, crossing your legs in a deliberate motion, assuming the posture of someone ready to play at the same level. If Silco wanted to turn this into a performance of business negotiations, you wouldn't fall behind.

"I've been thinking." his voice smooth as silk. "Perhaps our agreement needs a few... adjustments. Some additional clauses, so to speak."

Silco leaned back slightly, his fingers interlaced beneath his chin, the posture of someone entirely in control of the situation. "But before we get to that, I think it's wise to review the main terms of our current arrangement. Just to ensure we're aligned."

You shrugged with feigned indifference, though irritation pulsed beneath the surface. Of course, you knew every line of that damned agreement. How could you forget something that had been presented more as an ultimatum than a real negotiation? When Silco proposed the deal, you barely had a chance to voice your opinion. Not that your opinion would have mattered much—the power in that room belonged exclusively to him.

If he wanted to, he could have simply imprisoned you, tied you to a bed, keeping you captive by force. In fact, considering Silco's style, perhaps he still might—but in a twisted way, involving power games and sex.

When he presented the contract the night before, the scene was almost comical. You weren't even remotely surprised to see that he already had the document prepared, flawlessly drafted, waiting only for you to sign your name. However, what truly surprised you was that he agreed to some of your conditions, though they were few.

"Go ahead."

Silco then pulled the paper from the drawer, placing the document on the table with the two signature spaces clearly visible: one with his name, marked by that precise and meticulous handwriting, and the other with your name, marked by the nervous haste of your rushed signature.

"You agreed to spend three weeks of each month at my service." he began to read, his voice low and laden with an authority that sent shivers down your spine. "You will serve me in whatever way I deem necessary. This includes physically, of course. In return, I will provide you with everything you need, as well as ensuring your safety and comfort."

He paused, his eyes following the text with the precision of someone who had recited these words countless times. His expression was one of absolute delight behind the indifferent façade; you could tell he was savoring every syllable he uttered. Every detail seemed carefully crafted to trap you.

"And during the fourth and final week of that same month, you will have your freedom. I will not touch you, nor demand anything from you. You will be free to do as you please, within reasonable limits."

Silco pushed the folder toward you, the gesture as casual as it was threatening. "Naturally, you will have an escort at all times. To ensure your safety and to prevent you from deciding to run. After all, I wouldn't want to lose my new toy so soon."

You took the contract, your eyes scanning the words you already knew. But before you could even pretend to conduct a detailed review, Silco's voice cut through the air again, laced with something almost playful.

"Now, dove." his soft tone masked the venom behind his words. "Please, say out loud what the consequences are for breaking your part of the agreement."

Your gaze shot up from the paper to him. Your superficial reading stopped at that sentence, your fingers clutching the document tightly enough to crease it slightly. Of course, he was going to demand this. It was Silco's arrogance at its peak, forcing you to admit the terms you despised aloud. His smile widened as he noticed your hesitation. He was savoring the moment—every second of your reluctance was a small victory for him.

"If I break the agreement, all the freedom granted to me will be revoked. I will be under your constant supervision, without any autonomy." you wanted to kick him under the table, but you forced yourself to continue without resorting to violence. "And I will be subject to whatever punishments you deem appropriate, with no right to question or refuse them."

You hated the way he looked at you in that moment. That intense, cruel gaze that made every hair on your body stand on end. It wasn't just the intensity—it was what lay beneath it. There was something deeply wrong about the satisfaction Silco displayed, the twisted pleasure in reminding you, silently, of the reach of his power in Zaun—and now, over every aspect of your life.

He tilted his head slightly, the treacherous smile playing on his lips. "And?" he pressed, his voice low, its softness nothing more than a façade. "Don't keep me waiting. Say the rest."

You swallowed hard, choking down the rising urge to unleash a string of curses at him. Instead, you responded with a coldness you didn't truly feel.

"You would burn the brothel."

The words were difficult to say, but you forced them out, trying to mask the vulnerability they carried. In Zaun, few things could really hurt you. With no family and no significant ties left, you believed you were beyond the reach of emotional threats. But then, there was the brothel. And Silco knew it.

Not that you particularly liked the work of being a prostitute. As you had told Silco the day you first met, it wasn't as though you had much of a choice. It was a job that didn't attract attention, and that was exactly what you needed.

But the brothel wasn't just a workplace. The people there, even if they weren't your closest friends, were something you could call your community. Co-workers, confidants on hard nights, people who had shared the same roof with you since Babette took you in. She gave you a chance when no one else would—a place to stay, a job to support yourself, a sense of stability in a world that seemed to crumble around you. And now, because of you, the brothel was in danger. Just like Kate had been... and you knew how that ended.

He leaned back in his chair with the confidence of a king on his throne, intertwining his fingers beneath his chin. "Ah, yes. The brothel. Such a charming establishment, isn't it? It would be such a shame if something were to happen to it."

"Just say what you want to add, Silco."

The words came out steady, but you knew they weren't enough to fool him. Silco always caught the nuances—the smallest cracks in your façade, the ones you tried so hard to hide. And there he was, with that almost imperceptible smile, carved perfectly to provoke you. It was the kind of expression that made you feel as though, somehow, he was always in control.

"Always so direct." he murmured in that slow, deliberate voice, reaching for a cigar from the drawer. The way he handled it was almost theatrical, every movement carefully calculated to stretch out your anxiety. "Well, the proposal is more of a suggestion. I believe it would be far more convenient if you moved into one of the rooms at the Last Drop. During the weeks you're serving me, you would stay there."

You blinked. Once, twice. His words echoed in your head as you tried to absorb the weight of what he was saying. When you agreed to the arrangement, there had at least been one small consolation: the idea that, at the end of each day, you could return to the place you called home. Your little space. Your bubble of freedom. A place where you could continue your investigation far from Silco's watchful eyes and maybe remind yourself that you were still a person, not just his "property."

But now, even that illusion was being taken from you.

"This is your way of keeping me under custody?"

Silco laughed. A low, rough, and dangerously amused sound that sent a shiver down your spine. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk as he watched you with an unwavering gaze. The intensity of his orange irises, like burning embers, held you captive even when you wanted to look away.

"Keeping you under my custody?" he repeated, with a mock indignation so convincing it was infuriating. "Dove, you've wounded me deeply with such a heinous accusation. I thought we had something special here."

He lit the cigar with a silver lighter, the metallic click echoing in the heavy silence of the room. The scent of tobacco began to fill the air, mingling with the almost tangible tension. Silco took a deep drag, exhaling the smoke with a sigh that seemed laden with satisfaction.

"But, if you insist on putting it that way..." he let the sentence linger, releasing another slow puff of smoke before continuing, as though savoring the moment for as long as he could. Dragging it out too much for your taste. "Yes, I suppose that's exactly what I'm doing."

You couldn't stop yourself from rolling your eyes—a gesture meant to be full of disdain but softening into an ironic smile you couldn't quite suppress. There was something about Silco—that poisonous mix of brutal honesty and blatant manipulation—that left you unsure whether you should hate him or just play the game alongside him.

Somehow, his cruel transparency made it impossible to be as angry as you should have been. Deep down, what you really wanted was to cross the desk and punch him, but instead, you just raised an eyebrow, defiant.

"You're unbelievable, you know that?"

You stood up from the chair calmly, your eyes locked onto Silco's as you made your way around the desk. He, of course, followed every step with that sharp, almost predatory gaze. As you rounded the desk, you noticed the subtle way he adjusted in his chair, shifting slightly to track your movements as though he anticipated exactly what was coming next.

Without hesitation, you climbed onto his lap, sitting as if it were the most natural, casual thing in the world. Ironically, it was. Silco had, in an unexpected way, become your favorite "seat" and you were sure he was well aware of it.

"So." your tone deliberately provocative as your hands came to rest on his shoulders, "I don't think I have any other choice but to accept this clause. Although, I do have a few conditions."

Interest flickered in his eyes, but it was in the blue one that you noticed something new. His pupil dilated slightly—a reaction you'd never observed before. A small detail, but one that, in that moment, felt like a silent triumph. Silco leaned back in the chair, his body relaxing as though he'd already won the argument. He brought the cigar to his lips, taking a long drag before exhaling the smoke to the side, away from you. It was an unexpectedly considerate gesture—almost... sweet, if you had the nerve to admit it out loud.

His free hand, however, didn't waste any time. His fingers began to wander over your body, gliding along the curve of your waist, lingering at the line of your hip, before settling firmly on your thigh. The touch was possessive, demanding, as if he wanted to remind both you—and himself—that, in this moment, you were his.

"And what might these conditions be?"

You didn't answer immediately. Instead, you reached out and, without a hint of shame or hesitation, took the cigar from his hand. Silco's eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn't protest. You brought the cigar to your lips, inhaling with the ease of someone who had done it a hundred times before—even though it was your first.

The bitter taste filled your mouth, and the smoke wrapped around your senses. You exhaled slowly, letting the smoke escape deliberately as you kept your gaze fixed on his. There was something intensely intimate in the exchange, a sexual charge you hadn't planned but now felt inevitable.

"I want permission to roam freely around here." you said at last, your voice calm but carrying an undeniable tone of firmness. "After all, when you don't need me, I'll need some way to entertain myself, don't you think?"

You smiled—that mischievous smile that had gotten you into trouble more times than you could count. It was the same smile that, in a way, had landed you in this situation with Silco in the first place. "A fair request, in my opinion."

Silco remained silent for a moment, his eyes locked on yours. He seemed to be considering your words, but you could tell it was more than that. He was savoring the scene—every detail about you. The way you held the cigar, your posture on his lap, the interplay of smoke curling around your face... He seemed entranced.

"Permission to wander freely, hm?" Silco finally broke the silence, his voice heavy with provocation as his fingers on your thigh tightened their grip slightly. "I suppose that's reasonable, but don't think for a second that I won't be watching you."

You maintained your composure, letting the cigar's smoke fill your lungs before leaning slightly closer to him. As you exhaled, you released the smoke near his lips, watching as his blue eye darted momentarily to your mouth while the orange one stayed fixed on you. It carried a silent threat, a void of unspoken challenge that seemed to dare you to keep testing his limits.

"That's more than enough for me."

Boldly, you let your lips brush against his in a touch so fleeting it was almost ghostly, before pressing a gentle kiss—light, without any intent to deepen it. But as you began to pull away, you didn't get far. Almost instantly, Silco's hand gripped a fistful of your hair, firm but not harsh, pulling you back to him.

And it was he who deepened the kiss.

Silco's lips crashed against yours with a demanding, possessive force. There was nothing gentle or hesitant about it; he was taking what he wanted, and you knew in that moment, it was you. His tongue invaded your mouth with unrelenting confidence, exploring and claiming every inch. The taste of smoke lingered on his tongue, the bitterness of tobacco blending with an unexpected hint of sweetness—a contrast as singular as Silco himself.

There was something more in that kiss, something that sent shivers racing through your body as he held you captive within it. The last time the two of you had kissed, it had been different: rage had clouded your mind, turning the contact into a fierce clash. But now... now it was something else entirely. There was still roughness—Silco wasn't a man who did anything softly—but the hatred, the defiance, was absent.

If someone asked why you had kissed him, you could lie. You could claim it was a calculated move to ensure he wouldn't rescind his agreement to your request. A strategic play, nothing more. But deep down, you knew that would only be half the truth. The reality was, something within you had driven you to do it, to seek out that connection again, even if you didn't want to admit it.

You provoked him because you knew Silco would take the lead. It had always been that way. No matter how much you wanted to, it was never going to be you who initiated. Not with him. The power always had to appear to be on his side, even when you managed to twist it to your advantage.

The cigar slipped from your fingers, hitting the ground with a muffled thud. You registered the faint sound, your mind distantly aware of the minimal chance the ember might start a fire. Yet you didn't move to pick it up. Instead, your hands rested against Silco's chest, attempting to support your weight and keep your body from fully collapsing against his. Though, by the way he pulled you closer, it was clear that idea didn't bother him in the slightest.

A rough sound escaped Silco's lips—a low, restrained groan that you almost thought you'd imagined. Almost. His grip on your hair tightened, angling your head perfectly so he could deepen the kiss even further. His other hand wasn't idle; it moved slowly along the length of your thigh, his fingers pressing into your flesh with enough force to leave a mark.

When Silco finally broke the kiss, his lips began to trace a path along your jaw to your neck, his breath hot against your skin. You couldn't stop yourself—your body arched toward his, as if responding to an unspoken command.

"Don't provoke me, dove," he growled against your skin. "You know very well what happens when you do."

You laughed, but the sound came out short, almost breathless. It was hard to concentrate when Silco kept trailing kisses down your neck, occasionally interrupted by sharp nips that left your skin throbbing with sensitivity. One particular bite was harder, enough to draw a small gasp from you. Your body reacted instinctively, jolting slightly in his lap—and that was enough to elicit a sharp intake of breath from Silco.

From the way his eyes glinted and his grip on your thigh tightened, you knew he was just as affected as you were.

"Why not?" you murmured, a mischievous smile playing on your lips as you tried to catch your breath. "We're already in position, after all."

Silco pulled back slightly, just enough for you to see his expression. The gleam in his eyes, especially the blue one, was a dangerous mix of amusement and something darker, more intense. It was as if your words had sparked a new idea in his mind, one he was clearly considering with.

"Why not, indeed?" his hands slid to your hips, gripping them firmly as he pulled you even closer, as if it were possible to get any nearer. "Especially when you seem to enjoy this position so much."

Your fingers traced the contours of his face, exploring the unique texture of the scarred skin. When you reached the rougher, uneven area, you noticed something you hadn't before: a slight layer of powder there, likely applied to soften the appearance of the scar. You frowned slightly, intrigued. A question hovered on the tip of your tongue, but you decided to save it for another moment. After all, provoking Silco was always more interesting.

The prolonged touch seemed to captivate him, his gaze locked on yours as you explored his face with your fingertips. A charged tension lingered between you, and you realized that, in that moment, he was completely at your mercy—even if he hadn't noticed it himself.

"Well..." your voice carrying a faintly teasing tone, "You're the one above everyone in Zaun, so it's only fair someone gets to be above you, isn't it?"

With a mischievous smile, you shifted your hips slightly, emphasizing your words with the movement. The effect was immediate. Silco drew in a sharp breath, his own hips moving almost instinctively to match your motion.

"Someone has to keep things balanced around here." your tone suggesting the idea amused you. "Besides, you don't seem the least bit bothered by it."

His hands gripped your hips more tightly, his fingers digging into your flesh in a possessive gesture that nearly knocked the air out of your lungs. He stared at you now with an intensity that made your heart race. There was nothing innocent about that look. On the contrary, the gleam in his eyes seemed almost profane, as if he were contemplating something both sinful and indulgent.

He leaned forward, his lips brushing against your ear. The closeness sent a shiver through your skin, and his voice, low and gravelly, seemed designed to ignite something inside you.

"Bothered?" he murmured, each word weighted with a gravity that made your stomach flip. "Not in the slightest, dove. In fact, I'd say I'm enjoying the view from here. The way you look at me from above, with those eyes..." he paused, his warm breath fanning over your skin. "It's enough to bring a man to his knees."

You couldn't help the smile that curved your lips, a hint of amusement and even satisfaction at having him in this position. But the smile lasted only a second. Before you could even respond, you felt his fingers gripping your chin, firm, almost possessive, tilting your face so he could look directly at you.

The tone of his voice shifted. The soft murmur now carried a raw authority, irresistible, as though he'd decided exactly what would happen next.

"But I prefer you in this position."

The intensity of his words made something in your chest tighten—not with fear, but with anticipation. In that moment, you knew exactly where this was going. He tilted his head slightly, as if savoring your expression before continuing.

"Now, be a good girl and get on your knees."

Part 7

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Please read. I said I'd be back and I'm going to give you a spoiler: the next chapter it will be completely in Silco's POV and with a dose more smut than it normally would have. So suggest kinks that you'd like to see written in this series (I already have what I want to write in mind, but if I see an interesting idea that fits I'll add it, remember I can always use your idea in another chapter) And yes, in this story we fuck with Sevika! Remember when Babette tells VI that she's a regular customer at the brothel? I took this canon very seriously, but don't worry, there won't be a love triangle. Btw did you like Jinx's quick appearance in the chapter? (and yes, technically she would know what a prostitute is, but in my canon I can imagine VI punching Mylo at the exact moment he opens his mouth to explain. Our VI would protect our little and innocent Powder) I'll probably be back next year so HAPPY NEW YEAR! See you again in 2025.

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@pollomoon

@celi-xxmoon

@starryhiraeth

@spntiel

@vxllys

@hotchners-wifey

@unadulteratedcoffeetastemaker

@ultrahoney

@mysteriouszer0

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@prettyrose189

@coffeesefied

@sarynnah

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@lynnieluvsu

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@hayleynott

@malkentaj

@twililty

@fandomsinthegalaxies

@mikuley

@anthy-j-ander

@angelsdemonsmonsters

@buggnuggies

@fudosl

[mizgnomer]

Behind the Scenes of The Giggle - Part Thirteen

Excerpt from Doctor Who Magazine #589 - Paul Kirkley’s interview with the directors of the three 60th Anniversary specials:

DWM: Chanya, David Tennant was your first Doctor, wasn't he? Chanya Button [director of The Giggle]: Yes, I was very much a fan of David's first tenure. I remember being so captivated by him, and Billie Piper as Rose. DWM: Did you tell him that on set - that you loved him as a teenager? Or would that not have been terribly professional? Chanya: I don't think I put it quite that way, but I did demonstrate a pretty encyclopedic knowledge of his episodes. He knew I was going back and rewatching a lot of them while we were working together. Which I think he was quite amused by - me coming back in the next morning with a question about the Ood or the Adipose or something. He was like, "Are you just going home and watching Doctor Who?" Which I was. It was fun to revisit something I really remember loving at such a formative time of my life.

For other posts in this set, please see the #whoBtsGiggle tag. The full episode list is [ here ]

[flowersforthemachines]

Ranking everyone's Hero of the Veilguard armours (because I have nothing better to do)

I realised I needed to gather my thought's on everyone's drip so here are my humble opinions (with numbers and pictures)

Disclaimer: I took this very seriously, but you probably shouldn't. This is based on my personal opinion, which, while undoubtedly correct, may now align with your own. And that's okay.

14 - Titan's Vengeance (Harding)

That is definitely an armour. One of the armours ever, perhaps!

While I understand that it's meant to evoke the image of the dwarves as we see them in DAVG, I simply do not vibe with this outfit. Like, at all. It got an honest chuckle out of me when I saw it in the game, but I would never put Harding through the torture of wearing it. Which is too bad because I'd pick her embracing the Titan's anger over its compassion any day. A pity the fashion doesn't keep up.

13 - Rivain's Legacy (Taash)

Putting my opinions on certain aspects of their questline aside ("yes, you can be non-binary, but we draw the line at being multicultural"), this outfit doesn't even seem to be based on Taash's model. Anyone who has seen their romance scene (I have <3) should be able to tell these are not their legs. Their gorgeous calves wouldn't fit into those metal things. Bioware should be ashamed.

12 - The Qun's Honour (Taash)

That outfit doesn't make a lot of sense to me personally. I can live with the fact that most companion outfits are reused assets, but why is the Lords of Fortune armour of all things meant to represent Taash pursuing Qunari culture? Did no one at the office stop to think how weird that was? Like for real.

11 - Grey Benefactor (Davrin)

This outfit belongs in the "He Would Not Fucking Wear That" category. It also commits the cardinal sin of making Davrin look smaller (in my eyes), which not even the essence of Mythal could help to find redemption for. A shame after a shame.

10 - Crow's Tenacity (Lucanis)

This outfit is... a lot. Why is there so much metal, aren't assassins supposed to be silent 'n sneaky n' stuff? What are those patterns? Is that a FUR COLLAR??? I fell in love with a man with a horrible fashion sense

9 - Crow's Poise (Lucanis)

Marginally better than its counterpart, this outfit still leaves me with a lot of questions. I won't ask what is up with the feathers (I get it. they are crows) but I still find feather pauldrons to be a crime of fashion.

If Harding's Titan armour brought me a chuckle, this caused a groan because it took me 70h~ to reach the end of Lucanis's questline on my first playthrough and my reward was THIS?

(why did I have to fall for that guy of all people)

8 - Archivist's Mail (Bellara)

This simply does not scream Bellara to me. Even her glove and the scarf aren't enough to make that armour look like something of her own. It's definitely missing the flair (bits and baubles!!!) from her other armours, which may not be a fashion crime, but is still deeply regrettable.

7 - Wild Benefactor (Davrin)

This is like. It's a bit better than his other one, okay. It even started growing on me over time, in a way I can't comprehend yet also can't deny. Maybe he would fucking wear that, I don't know.

6 - Investigator's Robes (Neve)

I was originally tempted to rank it higher because I liked its description mentioning that Neve wearing robes (which she normally doesn't do) is a statement. It's cool thematically.

But I shall not let Bioware gaslight me into forgetting that it's just a Shadow Dragons robe conveniently recoloured to suit that narrative. Try harder next time.

5 - Graven Vestments

It's nice (especially compared to some other armours), but not Emmrich-y enough in my opinion. It lacks the personality present in his starting outfit. Peepaw deserves something more special for overcoming the greatest fear of his life, wouldn't you think?

4 - Threader's Plates (Neve)

This armour gets bonus points because it actually took me a while to recognise it was a recoloured Defiant Plate. Neve really makes it her own!

Other than that, it looks good, but is it *great*? It is *meaningful*? Not really. It would also look cooler if Neve's hair was down (the same applies to any other hatless outfit).

3 - Lich's Vestige (Emmrich)

That outfit is just so fucking cool. The exposed ribcage? The high collar? Black and gold? Now that is Emmrich Volkarin. And I do have a special appreciation for companion armours being, you know, *unique* models.

However, while undoubtedly stylish, the armour leaves behind a question: was it worth it?...

2 - Inquisition Spotter (Harding)

I may be an Inquisition hater deep down (sorry), but this armour still prompted a lonely tear to run down my cheek when I first saw it. It's such a nice callback to the past in a game that's so different from all previous DAs that it melted my cold, cold heart.

I was especially touched by the embroidery representing the members of the Inquisition. Harding carries her memories of them wherever she goes!!! :)

1 - Reborn Leathers (Bellara)

Is this biased? Yes, of course, this is biased. Bellara is my favourite girl, everyone else stood no chance. Like, she literally has a crown on her head - who else deserved the first place, if not her?

Jokes aside, this outfit is everything I would expect from a reward for completing a companion's storyline - a completely new outfit that retains the spirit of the original design while bringing new elements to it.

Sometimes what you need to make a good experience better is to see your fave in a cool outfit. For this one, Bioware has my sincere thanks.

[wisterialwhymsy]

as much or as little

part 1 of a friends to lovers bang chan fic thats inspired by rosy from @rosylix!! this is largely self-indulgent, but i hope that someone out there might relate or feel comforted by this <3

bang chan x gn! reader wc: 1162 warnings: lots of mentions of past s/a related trauma, implied past s/a, hurt/comfort, in depth descriptions of trauma-related anxiety, touch adverse reader, talks of boundaries, bangchan refered to as Chris, he's such a sweetheart

"So what, you've just, never done anything since then?"  Chris asks, your best friend.

“I mean, I’ve tried. It’s just…” You groan, hesitating. 

“Hey.” He says, as he places a hand on your arm, prompting you to look up at him. “You don’t have to tell me anything, but if you want to. I am here to listen.”

Somehow, the eye contact makes you slightly more nervous and you can feel your heart beating rapidly in your throat at the feeling of his skin touching yours.

“I- it’s okay.” You clear your throat, looking down at your hands as they fiddle with the sleeve of your shirt. 

“There was one other person. That I told and gave consent to. But…” You pause, taking a deep breath.  “They sort of abused that power.” You look up, suddenly insecure as you notice Chris’s unreadable expression. “If that makes sense.” You ramble, trying to avoid eye contact as the air shifts with a new-found tension.

Chris inhales sharply. “It makes sense.” He leans forward, taking your hands in his.

“I am so sorry you went through that. And that someone took advantage of your pain like that.” You look into his eyes, and you swear you can see tears dusting his waterline.

“You don’t deserve that.” His voice breaks slightly.

You avert your eyes. “It’s fine-” “No it’s not.” Chris cuts you off and you internally flinch at the anger radiating through his tone.

“Sorry. Sorry.” He pauses as he notices your anxiety. “I am just so angry right now.”

“Seriously. It was ages ago. I’m over it now.” You lie, trying to stand, or move away, anything to get out of this conversation.

“No. You’re not.” You freeze, surprised at his sudden honesty. 

You look up at him, and you notice tears falling down his face. 

“Why are you crying?” You mumble, instinctively reaching out to wipe away his tears.

He rests his hand on yours, looking into your eyes with a sorrowful expression.

“I can tell.” He pauses, his voice thick with emotion. “That you’re not over it.”

Tears begin to pool in your eyes as you process the forlorn look on his face.

“I see it, in the way you flinch slightly whenever I touch you. The way you spiral over trying to initiate any kind of touch. The way you look away during kissing scenes in shows. I see it. I see you.” Tears begin to stream down your face and you feel yourself struggling to breathe.

He pulls you close, tucking you securely against his chest. He wraps his arms around you, his hand tracing reassuring circles on your back.

The second you rest your head on his shoulder, you start sobbing uncontrollably. The years of repressed emotions and unprocessed trauma pouring out of you and into the awaiting arms of your dutiful best friend.

You don’t know how much time has passed as your sobs turn into hiccups, Chris whispering soft nothings in your ear as he rubbed gentle circles on your back.

“Thank you. I’m sorry.” You murmur, leaning back to wipe at the dampness on your face.

“It’s okay. Don’t apologise. Do you want to talk about it?” There's a softness to his question, a genuine desire to be there for you and help you, rather than a sense of obligation.

You pause, pondering. “Yes actually.”

He hums in response and you settle back onto the couch, still leaning into him slightly.

You look down at your lap, hands fiddling with the buttons on your sleeve as you take a deep breath. 

Chris silently rests his hands on yours, something he’s always done for you whenever he notices you fiddling.

“Remember, you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.” He affirms as you fidget with his hand resting in your lap.

“I want to tell you. Tell… Someone. But it just feels weird. It’s uh… weird stuff.” You mumble as he hums again. “I promise I won’t judge you.” He murmurs. “No matter how weird it is.” 

You smile in response.

“I’m just… scared. Like I know that I’ve… done stuff. Before. But I don’t remember it well.” You trail off, trying to ignore the rapid beating of your heart.

“I’m so scared that I'd like start something and then start panicking and embarrassing myself.” You pause. “Like, what if I mess up? Or have a panic attack? Like I don’t even know what I'm supposed to do during that stuff, let alone know how I’ll react.” You lean forward, resting your elbows on your thighs as Chris retracts his hand.

“And everyone says that my body will take over. And that I’ll know what to do.” You pause, fresh tears blurring your vision. “But I don’t think I would. I think I’d just panic and shut down.”

“But even with platonic stuff. No matter how hard I try, or how much I crave it. It just feels so tainted.” Tears spiral down your cheeks and you feel your chest somehow growing both lighter and heavier as you open your heart to him. “I feel so broken. I feel like I need someone to fix me. Or at least teach me how to do stuff again. How to hold, how to touch… How to love, both romantically and platonically.”

“How to do all of that without it feeling… corrupt. Without me… feeling corrupt.” The air is heavy with emotion and the two of you fall into an uneasy silence as the weight of your confession settles.

“I’ll teach you.” Chris murmurs, breaking the quiet.

“Teach me which one.” You try to laugh, to ease the tension and awkwardness, but it comes out forced and catches in your throat.

“Whichever you need.” His whisper was quiet, almost silent, but his tone was sincere.

You inhale sharply, turning your head to look at him, barely noticing his tears in your shock. “What?”

“I’ll teach you.” He says, clearing his throat. “For starters, I don’t think you’re broken, or that you need fixing. But I’ll teach you.”

“All of it. As much or as little as you want.” He reiterates as you try to process his suggestion in stunned silence.

“I-” You pause, unsure as to what on earth was happening. “I don’t want you to feel pressured… or compelled to help me.” 

“I don’t. I want to help you, I’d be honoured to even. But we don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.” He reassures you, gently taking your hand.

“Are you sure?” You ask, searching his eyes for any hesitation and only finding sincerity.

“Yes. I promise.” He affirms.

“And I swear. I will never-” He pauses as his voice shakes, “Never abuse any trust or consent you give me. I will always do my absolute best to make you feel safe and secure.”

“Thank you.” You smile, hugging him.

“Of course.” He says, pulling you closer. “It’s what friends are for.”

This is a work of fiction, based entirely on my personal perception of him, and does not reflect his actual character or actions.

[scruckels]

HOW STEB COMMUNICATES!

And... that's kinda it. A deep dive into how Steb communicates but I fight to stay on topic the longer you read.

NOTE: I gave this whole post a hazy and blurry zonked glance while muttering to myself before pressing post. There may be some spelling mistakes / incorrect wording.

Question by this person, but I was too lazy to make a separate post since I already had a draft similar to this question saved. I LOVE YOU CORACOOKIECRUMBLE!!! 😁😁😁😁⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️🗣🗣🗣🗣🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥💯💯💯

There aren't many scenes of Steb trying to communicate with someone, so it's difficult to say for sure how he communicates, but I think I have a pretty decent idea.

IN THE VIDEO BELOW

You see Steb with Maddie. This is the only scene really showing how they talk to one another, and the situtiain is tense, so it's hard to say how he communicates in more relaxed situations. In this scene, Steb communicates with her that he's ready by grunting, to which she understands.

IN THE GIF BELOW

Once again, in a tense situation, Steb makes some noise to communicate. This time, he speaks. Not only does he speak, but he also motions for everyone to follow him. With that being said, this proves that Steb CAN talk. He just doesn't want to.

This is not the only time Steb uses body language to communicate.

IN THE GIF BELOW

Steb cocks his head to the side, signaling to Maddie that they should go, as well as walking away with her once they're called.

IN THE TWO GIFS BELOW

Steb uses some hand and arm motions to signal to others. In the first one, he signals to Caitlyn to fall back, being that he had planted the bomb. In the second GIF, he signals for the enforces to turn off the beacons, since there didn't appear to be anyone coming to help fight.

IN THESE TWO GIFS BELOW

Steb grabs Mel to help her up, and in the second GIF, he grabs up the other guy to detain him. (I don't know if he has a name, and im too tired to look for one.)

Steb doesn't say anything prior to touching them, but the situations are also something to consider. Steb has his hands out to both of them, catching their attention just before actually putting his hands on them. Whether or not it's intentionally meant to be a signal, it's still something he does.

With these situations, it's hard to say EXACTLY how he is when using physical contact to communicate, but it'd say it isn't something he does often. He grabs Mel because it's an emergency, and he needs to make sure she's alright and out of there as soon as possible. He grabs the guy to detain him, following Caitlyn's orders and arresting him. Every time he touches someone (on screen), it's not really to communicate, and more so to assist / do his job.

CONCLUSION AND ANSWERS:

Is Steb mute?

No.

Is he selectively mute?

It seems most likely........? (Considering the information we have, at least.)

That being said, if he IS selectively mute, he may be open to speaking more frequently with someone close to him. Maybe even if it's just a little bit. (Short sentences, short answers, quiet speaking voice, murmuring, ect.) I can speak more on this at the end of this post for the people who wanna read about it.

Do I think he uses sign language? No. I really doubt it. He communicates both intentionally and unintentionally with small gestures, body language, and expression. He might use some type of hand signs occasionally? Not sign language itself, but just hand gestures that give you a vague idea of what he wants. For example, maybe you'll ask him why he's out somewhere, and he'll tug on the fabric of his enforcer uniform, signaling he's there for work. You'll ask why he's looking at you, and he'll point to his face as reference to your own, signaling that you have something on you and showing where it is.

Again, there's isn't enough Information to be 100% certain, but I feel like my conclusion is relatively sound.

Extra yap you were previously warned about:

I can talk more about selective mutism in another post for the people interested. Keep in mind, I'm NOT a professional. I'm autstic and I'm just nerdy about this. I don't wanna dump a whole bunch of information that is not at least 87% Steb related in this post, so I'm gonna say this next part like I'm one of those youtubers who has an audience of 5 year olds and makes those 3 am challenge videos cause it's funny.

GUYS, IF WE CAN GET AT LEAST FIVE PEOPLE TO COMMENT THAT THEY WANNA HEAR ABOUT SELECTIVE MUTISM IN ANOTHER POST, ILL MAKE A POST ABOUT SELECTIVE MUTISM AND HOW STEB WOULD MOST LIKELY BEHAVE OFF SCREEN IF HE HAS IT!! DONT FORGET TO SMASH THAT LIKE BUTTON, SUBSCRIBE, AND TURN ON THE NOTIFICATIONS BELL!!

I LOVE YOU STEB NATION!!! 🗣🗣🗣🔥🔥💯💯💯💯💯❗️❗️❗️❗️⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️🙏🙏🙏🙏

[storiesandthoughtsf1]

It’s complicated pt. 2

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x fIreader

Summary: You and Lewis are best friends and roommates. Okay maybe you're also a bit into each other, but you have a boyfriend, even though he's not exactly the nicest person.Everything was fine, but what will happen after you and Lewis let into your desires one night? And how will you deal with the morning after…?

Warnings: cheating technically, toxic boyfriend, mention of, age gap, both reader and lewis are a bit questionable, the boyfriend is outright toxic, some angst i guess, message me if I messed up anything, read at your own risk!

Word count: 3,9K

Author's note: sorry this took so long to finish! And yes Lewis or reader aren’t entirely innocent still. this is an emotional mess! Also please note english isn't my first language!

In the morning you slowly woke up, dreams fading away, and opened your heavy eyelids. As you took in the scene, you realised that you weren’t in your own room. So you took up a hand to rub your eyes, feeling something wrap tighter around you at your movement. That was when you realised what had happened last night. All the memories flooding back, hitting you like a truck. The hurt from Connor standing you up, Lewis comforting you, the weird feeling you had felt as you stared into his eyes, almost like butterflies. But the thing that mattered the most. The pleasure. You had had sex with your best friend. And you had a boyfriend.

As you slowly realised the situation that you found yourself in, you had moved around a bit, which had seemed to wake the Brit beside you up. A small groan came from his way, which made your stomach do flips, though you mentally punched yourself for having that reaction. You were staring up at the ceiling when he opened his eyes, hands holding the duvet up to cover yourself. Lewis was about to place a kiss to your cheek, but that was when he noticed your facial expression. You looked lost, conflicted, which scared him in a way, as thoughts began circling his mind. Were you regretting last night? Had he just ruined his friendship with you?

He remembered Connor’s words yesterday that had annoyed him to no end. ‘Who in their late thirties would want to be best friends with a 26 year old and not want to bone her?’ He had said. A bit controversial yes, but being in the position that you found yourselves in now, Lewis felt like sinking into a hole. He wanted to be better than what Connor thought of him, actually he knew he was. But he knew how it seemed right now, as much as it wasn’t true.

Because the situation you found yourselves in now wasn’t due to Lewis wanting to blow off stream, no it was because he genuinely had feelings for you.

“You okay?” Lewis ended up asking, regretting his choice of words the second they spilled from his mouth, gently biting onto his lower lip to make sure he didn’t say anything stupid. Your eyes kept to the ceiling as you took a deep breath. “Yeah, I’m okay,” for the first time you turned your head towards the Brit, immediately catching onto his concerned state. To you he was an open book, and his emotions were easy to read. The constant wall he put up, something he had learned to do after many years of being a racing driver, may fool everyone else but it didn’t fool you. You saw right through it. At least you thought you saw it all.

“Do you want breakfast?” Lewis asked as he didn’t know what to say, and sighed in relief when you nodded with a smile. Almost falling off the bed and stumbling through the room, Lewis picked up a pair of sweatpants and threw them on before making his way out of the room. You chuckled a little at his awkward state, returning your eyes to the ceiling when he was out of sight. A gentle smile came to your lips as you reminisced the night before, biting onto your lip.

Sex had never felt as good, as it had with Lewis. Normally all Connor wanted was his own pleasure, which ended up in quickies where you didn’t even orgasm. It had been so long since you had felt this good, Lewis using every possible second to explore your body and focusing on your pleasure. You couldn’t lie, being with Lewis like that had felt so natural, so right. It made you forget about all your worries, the only thing that mattered had been being with him.

Slowly you got up from the bed, and looked across the room to find clothes to put on. Your jeans from yesterday were discarded in a corner along with your panties, while your shirt was nowhere to be seen. You didn’t really want to put some tight jeans on, so you went to Lewis’ closet, opening it up and looked inside. He had so much clothes, so you knew he wouldn’t mind if you borrowed some of it. After having looked through the closet for a while, letting your fingers brush over the endless amount of soft material, your eyes landed on a specific t-shirt. It was a shirt that you knew he loved, so you instantly grabbed it, and took a pair of his loose boxers along with you and pulled it on. Catching yourself in the mirror, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself, feeling weirdly comfortable in your best friend’s clothes. The scent of him filled the pieces of clothing, a scent you found calming.

Slowly you made your way downstairs, where you found the person who was circling your mind standing in the kitchen flipping an omelette. All types of fruits and berries were laid out on two separate places, and two glasses of orange juice as well. You couldn’t help but smile at the gesture, leaning against the doorframe to the kitchen. Roscoe barked at your arrival, which made Lewis look up and noticed you smiling at him from across the room.

“Since when do you make such a fancy breakfast?” You chuckled a little, seeing the Brit shake his head with a giggle.

Seeing him stand shirtless in the kitchen, cooking both of you breakfast made you feel a way you couldn’t quite describe. Your stomach turned in a thrilling feeling, heart pumping faster. Yet the new and strong feeling didn’t scare you, it actually lured you in even more. It was like you were seeing the man before you for the first time. In a completely different light. He was almost shining, the sweet smile on his lips making your heart twist. “Since now I guess,” Lewis’ words brought you back from your thoughts, making your smile grow wider as you walked around the kitchen island to stand beside him.

Lewis felt his heart pick up its speed at the feeling of you suddenly being so close to him, curiously looking at what he was making. But he tried to suppress the feelings that erupted him, focusing on the vegan omelette before him. Cheekily you grabbed a couple of blueberries from one of the plates and ate them before Lewis could say anything.

“Wow, can’t you wait two minutes?” He tried to keep an annoyed tone, but in reality he just felt like kissing you. Yesterday had really screwed with his mind, and at this point he didn’t know where you were standing as a pair. Were you just friends? Were you more? Only god knew how much Lewis would give to be more than friends, but he knew better than to ruin your relationship with your boyfriend. Or at least he thought he did, because finding himself in the situation he was in right now, he realised he had ended up messing with some things he probably shouldn’t have.

It didn’t take long before the two of you were sat at the table eating your breakfast together. It had been silent for a while, both of you just focusing on your food, when Lewis felt the need to break the silence.

“Can I ask you a question?” He asked rather shyly, which caught you off guard, connecting your eyes to his. “Yes of course,” you assured him, putting your fork down to show him, he had your attention. Lewis took a deep breath, mind wandering a hundred miles per second as he tried to figure out what to say and how. He knew how he felt, but he didn’t know how to start the conversation he wanted to have.

“About yesterday-“ Lewis just got to mumble out before there was a firm knock on the front door. Lewis felt his confidence crumble down, words disappearing from his vocabulary as his mind shut down. “I’m sorry, I’ll go check who it is,” you assured him, thinking that if he was left to himself for awhile, then he would figure out what to say, as you found it quite obvious he didn’t know how to explain himself. You of course knew what he wanted to talk about, and to be honest you understood why he found it hard having that conversation. You wanted to have it too, but you didn’t know what to say.

You didn’t know what to feel.

Soon you opened the door, and your heart skipped a beat as you saw your boyfriend stand in front of you, a weak smile on his lips. His hands were in his pockets, a thing he only did when he wanted to apologise to you for something, which happened more often than you would like to admit.

“Hey,” he smiled at you affectionately, his cheeks seeming to have a reddish colour, but you didn’t know if it was the cold weather or something else that had caused it.

“Hi,” you responded as you felt your heart speed up, the need for air suddenly getting bigger. Sweat was beginning to form in your palms, at the same time as tears came to your eyes. It was obvious you were panicking, or at least to you, and Connor could see something was wrong as well.

“Look, I’m sorry about yesterday, I shouldn’t have been such an asshole,” he apologised rather genuinely, which made your heart drop. Here he was apologising to you, and you had cheated on him. Not just a kiss, not a make out, no you had had sex with another man. And it had felt good. You suddenly became very aware of the fact that you were in Lewis’ clothes, and you dragged the t-shirt further down to cover up the obvious fact that you did not own male boxers.

“I know you’re very close with Lewis and you share clothes for whatever reason,” Connor pointed to you, which made you stop dragging down the shirt, realising that he had seen. “But I trust you, and I love you, so when you say he’s just your best friend, well then I believe you. I’m sorry for acting the way I did, it was irresponsible of me.”

A tear escaped your eye before you could do anything about it, and Connor watched as you fought not to break down in front of him. But he must have thought that you cried for a different reason than you did, because he pulled you in for a hug, letting his hand rub up and down your back. You moved your head around, trying to breathe properly, as being in his arms didn’t feel like it should. Though you convinced yourself you were overreacting, and that you loved him back. When Connor pulled away, he placed a tender kiss on your lips, but again you felt like something was missing. Something about the way he kissed you was off, there was something wrong in the way you felt.

“Can I come inside?” You couldn’t do anything but nod at his question in pure fright of him realising something was up.

Lewis couldn’t hear the conversation that was held out at the front of the house, and to be honest he used his time alone to figure out what to say to you. So when he suddenly heard footsteps coming back inside, he was almost ready to ingulf you in a hug as soon as you walked through the door, but when he looked up, he saw none other than Connor following you into the room. To Lewis’ surprise the younger man waved at him with a friendly smile, his arm around your waist. Though your expression was different to your boyfriend’s. You looked lost, at the same time as looking like you were on the edge of having a panic attack. Couldn’t Connor see that?

“Hey Lewis, I just wanted to say something to you quick,” Connor sat down in the seat beside Lewis, for some reason not caring about the fact that Lewis was without shirt, or surely looked like someone who was about to pass out. “I’m sorry for being such a dick towards you, I’ve just had trouble with the fact that you, a Formula 1 star live with my girlfriend,” he explained himself in such a calm way, that made Lewis feel guilty. This was a new side of Connor for sure, but he seemed genuine. He seemed to care about what he was saying. “I guess I’ve been jealous, but that’s over now, I promise.”

At that sentence, your and Lewis’ eyes locked together, silent panic seen in both, as you knew you were screwed.

Connor stayed for longer than you would have wanted, just talking to the two of you as you ate breakfast. Lewis had offered to make an omelette for Connor, as he wanted to get away from the situation, but the younger man had told him that he had already ate breakfast, which left Lewis trapped in the room. You looked even more uncomfortable than himself, which made Lewis feel bad, as he thought it was his own fault that this was going on. If he had just controlled himself, you wouldn’t be in this uncomfortable situation. You would be happy to be with your boyfriend. But now he had ruined it, he had ruined your relationship with your boyfriend in what he thought was a purely selfish manner.

But it was soon time for Connor to leave again, so you walked with him towards the entrance of the house.

“It means a lot to me that you’ve forgiven me,” Connor breaks the silence as the first one, giving you a smile. But that comment made you furrow your brows. Had you actually forgiven him? The pain from last evening was still heavy in your heart. It was one piece of many, from all the times he had lashed out at you, or straight up ignored you to prove a point. You didn’t want to do that anymore. “Connor, look, I haven’t forgiven you yet, but I do really appreciate the apology. Just please give me some time.” You gave him a sympathetic smile, hoping that this new and improved man before you would understand. Actually, you were convinced he would, because after his little speech earlier it sounded exactly like what he was planning to do.

“What, why?” He seemed confused his wall of defence high as he spoke loudly, and it made you take a step back. Your heart beating quicker. You thought of the best way to phrase yourself, taking a deep breath. “It’s not just last night Connor, so I’m gonna need some time. But if you really do change, then we’ll be good.” You still spoke in a soft tone, really trying to do your best to seem bearing and sincere.

Connor scoffed loudly at your response. “Oh come on, are you seriously bringing up the past now? I thought we were moving forward! I apologised, didn’t I?” His voice was filled with anger now, and it made you feel small. This was the Connor you couldn’t love anymore, the guy you wanted to be done with. The guy he swore he had changed away from.

“Yes you apologised for that one thing, but if you can’t see there’s more to this than yesterday then I seriously don’t know how to explain it to you.” You snapped back at him, but your voice was still not that loud. In your mind you wanted to shout, to scream at him actually. But you couldn’t bring yourself to do it, and it wasn’t out of love you realised. It was out of fear. Of what he could do then.

“Oh so this is just a guilt trip huh?” He almost mocked you, taking a step closer to you. You felt yourself take another step away without even thinking of it, trying to gather your thoughts. But he spoke up before you could muster out a reply. “Typical. You’re acting like I’m the worst guy ever just because I messed up once.”

You couldn’t stand there and take it anymore, because what he was saying was truly insane to you. It was as if you had been living separate lives, experienced separate situations. “It’s not just once Connor. And the fact you think it is… that’s the problem.” You finally got out, not even looking at him anymore, but instead just straight ahead. It was like you realised it yourself now.

There was nothing left about this relationship to save.

There hadn’t been anything to save in a long time, but you had kept making excuses. Making excuses for him. Allowed him to walk all over you, mistreat you. But you didn’t want that anymore. No, you weren’t gonna allow him to be that way. You were done.

“Oh I get it now. This is about him.” Connor suddenly spoke, bringing you back to reality. You were speechless, but you knew your confused look told him everything he needed to know. “Lewis. It’s always about Lewis, isn’t it? You fucking live with the guy, you probably run to him every time we fight. Don’t you dare tell me he hasn’t been in your ear about how much of a ‘toxic asshole’ I am.” He spoke with venom, pointing a finger at you as if it would make his point clearer.

That was it for you. The glass had fully shattered, and any feelings whatsoever you had ever had for him were gone. The person who stood before you was a fucking bully, and you needed him out of your house.

“The fact you go back to that shows you aren’t gonna change. This has never been about Lewis, it’s been about you and me, Connor.” You were clearly annoyed now as well, but you didn’t let your emotions get the best of you. You tried your very best to stay calm, to keep the upper hand.

Connor laughed. “Right. Because it’s totally normal for your best friend to be a guy who’s practically your boyfriend without the title. You think I don’t notice how he looks at you? Or how you always talk about how ‘great’ he is?” The sarcasm spilled from his lips as he spoke. He apparently thought he was hilarious for that comment, but you kept standing still, your face unreadable.

“You’ve told me all I need to know. I can’t keep picking this fight, and I won’t be doing it either. Cause we’re done.” You spoke clearly, crossing your arms as you gave him a stern look. Watching how calm you kept under this argument only made him more furious.

“So what, you’re just giving up on us? After everything?” He asked mockingly, but it wasn’t like he was surprised it was over. It more seemed like he was mad you were the one to say it. “No I’m finally choosing myself.” You clarified, taking a few steps towards him, which made him back out of the door. “Goodbye.” You said, and just like that you smacked the door in his face.

Walking back into the house you saw Lewis in the exact same place you had left him, the dining room table. His look on his face told you everything you needed to know. “Hey… you okay?” He spoke up finally as you just stood there in the room, looking a bit lost. You sighed heavily, forcing yourself to nod. No that break up hadn’t been a pretty sight, but it was finally over. And that meant you actually were alright. Or at least you would be.

“I broke up with him.” You said, finally looking over at Lewis properly, catching his gaze on you. He nodded at your words. “Yeah, I heard.” He admitted, but it wasn’t like it was a surprise to you. Of course he had heard. You knew that. You just let out a small chuckle, as did he, and you took a few steps towards him, but didn’t sit down at the table. You felt like you still had to take what just had happened in.

Suddenly Lewis got up from his seat, and walked towards you. Without even thinking of it, he took your hands in his, and looked you deep in your eyes. Just for a second you watched your hands in his, before looking up to meet his eyes. Those big brown eyes. “You did the right thing. You deserve someone who treats you the way you deserve to be treated.” He admitted, his voice full of love.

You took a moment before you answered. “Yeah? And what do I deserve?” Right now you felt a bit lost, so you genuinely couldn’t tell what you exactly deserved.

Lewis took a deep breath before he spoke again. “You deserve someone who really sees you. Someone who listens to you, supports you, and makes you feel like you’re enough every single day. You deserve someone who…” he trailed off, his voice suddenly shakier than before. It made you furrow your brows ever so slightly, because Lewis never got nervous like that. Yet you still couldn’t help but smile, his words so kind and gentle they made you want to hug him as tightly as you could. Lewis took a deep breath before he spoke up again “Someone who loves you. The way I do.”

You felt your heart skip a beat at his confession. All you could do was blink at him, not knowing how to respond.

“Lewis,” you spoke softly. His confession was huge. It made you feel magical. You could barely contain yourself, it felt like, your heart beating so fast it could leap out of your chest.

“I know it’s a lot. And I don’t want to make this harder for you. I just… I couldn’t not say it. Not after last night. Not after how I heard him speak to you just now.” His words rolled off his tongue quickly, almost like in an endless stream of mumbling. You had never seen Lewis this nervous before. You desperately wanted to respond, you really did, but you felt taken aback by his confession. Your mind was screaming at you to tell him you felt the same way, but nothing came out.

It seemed like Lewis had somehow read your mind, because he spoke up again. “You don’t have to respond. I just wanted you to know.”

But that made you find your voice again. “Lewis, I love you too.” You said, the feeling that bubbled in your chest as you said it just felt right. So right you knew this is exactly what you had been searching for your entire life.

“Yeah?” A big smile slowly appeared on Lewis’ face at your confession. You nodded eagerly. “Yeah.”

You couldn’t even tell who leaned in first. Maybe you didn’t even care. What mattered was that your lips met, in a soft and gentle motion. But that quickly turned more passionate, Lewis hands wrapping around your waist and yours around his neck. You needed each other as close as you possibly could, desperate to taste the other. You couldn’t get yourselves to break away from the kiss, but eventually you needed air. With his forehead resting against yours, Lewis whispered: “I’m never letting you go.”

[twinkletfout]

I thought about the given scene with Nanami and I'm crying (given reference)

Nanami confessed that he used to be in a serious relationship with his ex and that he is struggling to move on. But he said that he genuinely likes you. And you believed him.

Laying down on your bed with Nanami. It was already past midnight, you noticed he was not sleeping at all, staring at the clock ticking as he thought about something, his brows frowning at whatever he was thinking. The room was so silent that the ticking of the clock could be heard aloud. “Cant sleep?” you asked, he quickly snapped out of the daze and looked over at you, “oh, no, why are you not asleep?” he directed a question back to you. You didn't feel like answering. “What are you thinking?” You asked, not taking your eyes off of his. He raised his eyebrows at your next question as he looked away to that clock again. “that clock.. she has the same clock at her place” your eyes widened at what he said, hugging him the next second. “I don't know much about your past but.. please dont look like you’re about to cry when you are with me.” In that moment you realised he was slipping away, that he could never move on. It was you who needed to step back.

[sanctuaryandshopkeeper]

So I drew in stars and time for the first time and I decided to draw a role swap au. Seriously though idk which one is my favorite roleswap group.

Either The worst/best Housemaiden ever Siffrin, Mirabrawl, Researcher Isabeau, Gorden Ramsey Odile, and Rabid Traveler Bonnie because vibes and craziness or Researcher Siffrin, Our Chef Godess Mira, Traveler Isabeau, Housemaiden Odile, and Fighter Bonnie for the drama.

Like Housemaiden Siffrin got the protagonist backstory and a lot of lore. The irony that the king and Siffrin come from the same country and the DRAMA. If a cat was a human you get Siffrin. Mirabelle knowing Siffrin earlier and being besties is amazing. Even without that she’s one hell of a fighter and I want to know more about her. Researcher Isabeau also used to be a defender like what made him change paths? Cook Odile used to be fighter but was forced into retirement but then getting dragged out of retirement to fight the king is kind of funny ngl. Question though what got Odile into cooking? Bonnie just running away from home and being a traveler makes me think Bonnie thought they were burdening their sister and that’s why they ran away. To let their sister live her life and to not be weighed down by them anymore (Bonnies’s thoughts not mine). Also Team chaos is fun.

@anxiousapplepie

Then for Team Drama well. Researcher Siffrin researching about the island North of Vaugarde and the remaining culture is really fascinating to me. Especially with the King in the corner freezing the country due to the trauma of amnesia. More interesting to me is that they know the language. Know the universe, know the stars, but does he know what the island is called? Also the drama in act 5 is fascinating for me. Also if they ran ahead of everyone when would Siffrin get the time to learn timecraft? Also how much was Researcher Siffrin’s life spent in isolation? Also does Researcher Siffrin have a diary because with how forgetful he is, they should just have one. I’ve been rambling about researcher Siffrin so Cook Mira. I love that she can just fight any day of the week just because’s a cook doesn’t mean she can’t kick the king’s butt. I want to know more about her like I know she went on a pilgrimage or something but LOREEEEE. I just want Mira backstory and cool scenes. This is what I have an Apple Pencil for I guess. Traveler Isabeau what was your life like before you got to this point to be as emotionally constipated as OG Siffrin concerns me. Also the show off that would stand off between the two. The DRAMA. Housemaiden Odile just being friends with Eurpharsie and just wanting to yell at her is kind of funny to me. I’d like to imagine as soon as they finish defeating the king Odile runs ahead to just lecture Euphrasie on why HER! Also Bonnie being a mercenary fighter being paid with snacks is amazing! Best kid in the playground.

@anxiousapplepie