#Please tell me I'm not the only one that had this idea

[gojoswhitebabydolllashes]

Please do a jayvik x reader where reader is their assistant and constantly glances at the both or them while they're working and either Viktor or jayce catches her in the act

YES OF COURSE! I think this idea is so good!

A/N: This is a little bit suggestive but very minor. Mostly just jayvik teasing reader.

---

You've been assisting Jayce and Viktor for many months now. You've learnt many things about them, like how jayce enjoys a cup of milk late at night and when viktor is tired he'll hum to himself. You've brought them Drinks and food and helped them out with their blueprints and stacks of paper. You were their doting and loyal assistant always happy to lend a hand.

But you thought you were subtle in your actions, how you always snuck glances at jayce when he was flexing his tanned muscles while hammering something, or how you always gazed perhaps too long on viktor's nimble fingers working on small cogs.

Late one night in the lab as you sorted through a stack of diagrams as per viktor's request, You snuck a small glance at the two males at the desk working and conversing. Jayce's arms sat flexed and heavy against the table, his white button-up shirt rolled up his arms. Beside him, viktor was giving much darker vibes, his lips are close together in a line and he's got a slight arch in his brow. His red tie is loose and his sweater vest is undone by one button.

Safe to say you were pretty entranced by them.

Both are illuminated by a dim Amber light coming from the evening sky outside, and it only adds to their beauty.

"Is there something on my face?" Jayce knocks you out of your trance, his face decorated with a boyish smirk.

You scoffed and looked away. "You're really funny talis," you said sarcastically, your eyes rolling back in the process.

"I think you're pretty funny too." Two large hands sat on your desk.

You looked up to see Jayce. His dark eyes are boring holes into you as his square jaw clenches slightly. You see and feel something in his gaze that makes you feel on fire.

"I think it's funny that you think we don't see how you look at us"

Jayce's face grins when he sees the beet red tint blanket your face, your jaw hangs low as the two of them begin to laugh.

"I didn't mean to make you both uncomfortable I jus-"

"You're scaring her, jayce. Relax, love, it's okay. " viktor held up his bony hand with a small smile. "Were not interrogating you, ignore him"

You took a deep breath and stood up to find a new pencil. You could feel the two scientists' eyes still on you. One like honey one like midnight, but both equally as enthralling.

"If I've done something wrong, please tell me"

"You haven't done anything wrong, love. Why didn't you mention you had a crush on us? Were not that scary, are we?" Jayce finishes his sentence with a deep chuckle.

"No, of course not, but your both-", you fixed your glasses. ",well your both quite attractive and a bit out of my league, so I just decided to stay quiet,"

Both jayce and viktor stepped closer to you, the two of them putting a hand on either shoulder for some kind of comfort. You first looked at viktors honey golden eyes. They were gentle and encircled by dark tint.

"You weren't very quiet with your eyes movements, dear. Infact I'm surprised you didn't notice either of us also looking at you, we've caught you staring many times"

"What?" Your mouth fell agape.

Jayce laughed. "Of course we noticed. You were staring when viktor was fixing his tie earlier last night before we left for the meeting"

Viktor interrupted. "And at that very same meeting, I caught you drooling over jayce when he was giving his speech"

By now, you were bright red and hiding behind your hands. You could've died right then and there of pure embarrassment. You couldn't believe that your secret endeavours of glancing upon your superiors had finally been noticed.

"Oh my gosh I had no idea!" You exclaimed.

Trying to help with your blushing but failing deeply, and really only making it worse, jayce put his hand in yours. It was rough and calloused and warm and felt like home. You were at home with them and you hoped that they would be understanding about this all.

"How would you like to upgrade from assistant to partner? It's a full-time position,"

Viktor grinned and ran his free hand through his hair, the other holding his cane.

"Are you... serious?" You looked at the both of them. Eyes darting back and forth.

They both nodded eagerly. "You've been deeply loyal and loving to us for many months now, and you've become more to us than just an assistant," jayce spoke as he held your hand tightly.

Quickly, almost embarrassingly so, you said yes. Viktor planted soft kisses to your cheek.

"Come with us dear"

[bananayuyu]

all tied up {part 2}

Pairing: Yunho x f reader

Genre: angst, eventual smut

Word count: 11.9k

Summary: You never thought you'd have such an awful rivalry with a coworker. How is he so mean, so petty, so under your skin...?

Warnings: smut, MDNI, mentions of reader wanting to die and past traumas, dub con/non con, reader is physically bound against her will, mean yunho, nipple play, fingering, unprotected penetration, after care of sorts

A/n: I hope you all enjoy the depravity! (and again please read the warnings and don't read this if you aren't in the right headspace <3)

Read part 1 here

Read it on ao3

That toe box.  That stupid fucking toe box… 

"YUNHO, LET ME GO!!" you scream, punching a hand into his side and making him sag ever so slightly.

"Fucking hell, give me a second," he replies, finally slinging you back over his shoulder to your feet.

"WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU!" you scream, shoving him as hard as you can, and he rocks back onto his other foot, destabilized only for a second.

"Calm down, Jesus Christ," he snaps, and you move to dart around him, towards the front door you were just dragged through. He's too quick though and grabs you by the arm, your shoulder crashing into the wall as he awkwardly halts your movements. "Y/n, seriously, calm the fuck down." His tone is harsh, low and demanding, and the turn of events has so shocked you, you feel like you might puke.

"You just kidnapped me, and you're telling me to calm down??" you spit, your shoulder stinging from the impact of the wall.

"I saved you from that horrible weather, actually. Not safe for a girl like you to be out there right now," he replies, a chilling smirk on his lips.

"Oh fuck off, you fucking creep," you mutter, desperately trying to free your arm from his grasp.

"Listen I know it's a bit extreme, but you kept ignoring me, and I want to talk. So I did what I had to do, to make that happen," he replies, his voice uncomfortably smooth.

"Yunji is right, you're a fucking sociopath," you respond, eyeing him sharply.

"Yunji?" he asks, his eyebrows cocked.

"Yunji, my best friend, my roommate, who will be very concerned if I don't return home soon. So you'd better fucking let me go, if you don't want the police called," you say, words fiery and sharp as they exit your mouth.

"Why don't you text her and let you know you got caught in the storm, and a kind neighbor let you into their place for protection," he smiles, shaking his head at you like you're dumb.

"Fuck you, fuck offf," you mutter as you knee him hard in the side, managing to pull your arm free for a moment and stumbling towards his front door once again. But again somehow he's faster than you, despite the wind being slightly knocked out of him, and he puts himself between you and the door with a loud slam, your body smashing into his, hard. His right hand moves behind him to slide closed the deadbolt, his broad frame guarding the door, creating a barrier you certainly won't be able to break through.

"You're making this very difficult, y/n," he scolds, shaking his head again.

"ME?? I'M MAKING THIS DIFFICULT??" you scream, falling to the floor in desperation, your mind running out of ideas. The only one that's left is his backdoor, which you know is likely to be locked; but you realize it's truly your last hope, your only remaining option. With a sharp inhale you steady yourself, launching down a hallway you see that leads in that general direction, turning the corner abruptly when you hit a wall, seeing another hallway branching off with more doors leading to other rooms. You continue down this hallway too, even though it's running towards the side of the house, because you really don't have another choice and have no idea where any of these doors might lead you. You're running hard, as hard as you can, bumping into walls and nearly stumbling over a slight blip in the old hardwood floor, catching yourself in time to keep running. You round another corner into what looks like a den, and then you spot it, sliding glass doors that lead to his backyard. You're almost there, your legs only propelled by your adrenaline, and you know he's hot on your trail, his hard footsteps echoing ominously behind you. Sliding the door will open will be awkward, you know that, but you have to try-

You're grabbed again, this time tackled to the ground, a hand coming around your ankle and holding it tight as you flail your other leg, making contact with some part of Yunho's body. Your huge winter coat is making it hard to move around on the floor, your body limited by the layers of clothing and the crumpled position you're currently pinned in.

"Yunho, please, just fucking let me go," you beg, your throat hoarse from your screaming earlier, your lungs lacking capacity from your running. "I promise, I'll talk to you tomorrow, I promise, just please, let me go, please, please." You sound so pathetic, so scared, because you are. You've never felt like this, scared for your life and unsure you'll make it through the rest of the day alive.

"Don't make promises you can't fucking keep," Yunho grumbles, moving on top of you to pin you even tighter, both of your legs awkwardly bent under his and your upper body held down by his arms. His face is only inches from yours now, closer than it's ever been, and you squeeze your eyes shut, not wanting to see what you know is a horrifying look in his eyes.

"No I'm serious, I will talk to you, I promise, I-"

"No you won't. I know you fucking won't," he spits, adjusting his grip on your arms as if he's trying to remind you how trapped you are. "You'd make your mind up, hadn't you? You'd decided you'd much rather we both lose our jobs than you having to speak to me again. You were gonna give up. You weren't going to talk to me tomorrow, or the next day, or ever. If I let you go now, that wouldn't fucking change. Don't lie to me, y/n. I'm not stupid."

Your snarky reply gets lost in your throat, because the way he's read you so easily is utterly disturbing.

"What, are you shocked that I'm right? You're not that hard to read, doll," he continues, chuckling deeply.  But I am, to everyone else, you think. You've always been able to hide your intentions easily. Your side is starting to throb, his elbow digging into your ribs, and his words have lit another fire in you, one that comes from the visceral fear that's consuming you.

You snap your head up and bite hard on his shoulder, the only part of him other than his face that you can reach. You're more forceful than even you expect, immediately tasting blood, and it makes you bite even harder, Yunho letting out a sudden cry of pain.

"Fuck, you fucking bi-"

You cut him off with a knee to the groin, the pain from your bite having loosened his nerve enough for you to do so. It weakens him even more, and you're able to move your hips out from under him, painfully wrenching yourself free from his grasp and doing anything you can to inflict pain on his perfect body. You can feel it now that he's on top of you, the curves and lines and hints of lean muscle, and it pisses you off all over again. You're clawing at him, scratching and biting and kicking every which way. His breath is knocked out of him so you both are just breathing heavily, his body grunting with every painful blow, your own voice erupting in a growl when you finally free yourself from him and manage to miraculously make it to your feet.

You're running back the way you came now, back towards the front door which you know how to unlock, a cramp forming sharp in your side from the exertion. You hear his footsteps behind you again, and you know it's a last-ditch effort, but you try with all your might to run as fast as you possibly can. Suddenly you feel your left arm tugged back, your body jolting awkwardly as he makes contact with you, but he's only able to get a good hold on the sleeve of your coat, which now is painfully snaking down your arm and falling off your shoulder. You wrench your arm free from it, spinning to free your other arm too, feeling unburdened now without your coat and able to sprint fast again. As you round the corner you see the front door, the dark stained wood ominous, a warning against entering. Or leaving, you suppose. The whole house is dark, little light coming in from the windows because of the now raging storm, and for the first moment since you've entered Yunho's house you notice a bright flash that must be lightning, followed by a loud rumble of thunder. You know it should be louder, it sounded mere moments after the flash meaning the strike was somewhere nearby, but the snow is just that thick right now, even the deafening sound got lost in it. You wonder if you'll even be able to open the door against the winds and what must be harsh rain, and tears start coming fast down your cheeks as your fears reach new heights. Even if you make it out of here you've got the elements to deal with, and suddenly storming out that door doesn't sound so good. For a brief moment it's almost like you're begging for it, begging for him to grab you again so you don't have to face the reality outside.

Even if it'd only been a passing thought, Yunho answers your sadistic prayer, finally making contact with you again when you're only five feet from the door, his hand crushing as it grips down on your upper arm. You shriek, your shoulder screaming so severely in pain you're worried he's dislocated it. You both awkwardly crash towards the ground again, Yunho coming to his knees as he tries to prevent the fall, your legs sweeping out from under you as you lose your balance. You're still fighting fiercely, and you feel ridiculous for wishing for this now. You'd give anything to be in that fierce, terrifying storm right now, instead of being dragged by your arm and your hair down his hallway, making dents in the walls with your feet as you struggle against his firm grip.

"You're making this really fucking difficult, y/n," he growls, breathing hard from carrying the weight of an entire human down his short hallway. "I don't think you realize how true that is." You're still screaming in pain, tears streaming down your face in waves now as the follicles of your hair are nearly ripped out. "We could have done this another way, but you just had to fucking fight me, as always. I should have known you'd pull some shit like this," he spits, his voice low. You have no idea where you're going, your vision clouded with your tears. Eventually you year a door knob turned, Yunho yanking you hard and turning you around, your legs catching painfully underneath you.

"Ah!" you scream in pain, using your free hand to wipe the tears and snot from your face and finally try to get a good look around you.

"Shut up, this is your fault," he responds, his tone cold in that way that it so often is. It feels so weird to be with him outside of work, the feeling hitting you suddenly as you're finally able to get a glimpse of him; turning your head you see a desk, a dresser, a closet door...

You can only see a glimpse of his bed when you turn to the side, but it's enough to confirm you're in his bedroom. It adds to the fear in you, that you're both in the place he feels most comfortable, that he's confident enough to show you his place of rest. Is he going to kill you? You really wouldn't have pegged him as the type, even if he was an asshole at work; your jokes with Yunji about him being sociopathic were hyperbole, at the time, at least.

"Are you going to kill me?" you ask, finding a strength within yourself that surprises you. 

"No," he grunts, his body pinning you down as he reaches under his bed, the position twisting his torso and making his breathing uneven.

"Then what the hell are you doing?" you ask, trying to even out your breathing yourself. Your lungs feel exhausted from screaming, but at least now he isn't dragging you by your hair, so your scalp is getting a break from the severe pain. He doesn't answer you, shoving his arm further under, and then in a flash you see what he's pulled out, in moments feeling it against the skin of your left wrist.

The black rope is even and soft, clearly made for use in the bedroom. It would make you laugh, cause you to poke fun at him, normally, but in this instance your blood runs cold as you feel him forcefully anchor the wrist in place, tying it to something behind you in a way that makes it totally immovable. You struggle against him as he reaches for your other arm, but with the way he has you pinned there's only one outcome to this, and soon your other wrist is being tied down too, right next to your first one. You're well and truly trapped now, not able to move your arms at all, and with them tied behind your back it's hard to move the rest of your upper body.

With another grunt Yunho finishes securing his knots, your arms tied to one of his bed posts, your legs awkwardly folded under you. You look so pathetic and vulnerable in this state, and it makes him feel things he knows he shouldn’t, something that makes his pants feel tighter than they should. Your whole face is a mess from crying, your hair disheveled and tangly; he's never seen you in such a state, so messed up and powerless and ragged.

"Well, here we are," he says, standing up and walking back to the entrance of his room, putting several feet between you as he stares you down, arms crossed.

"What do you want?" you snap, frustrated and disgusted that you can't wipe the small trail of snot that's currently leaving your nose.

"I just want to talk, y/n. I'm not planning on killing you, I'm not that kind of person. I can't believe you'd even ask that," he responds, looking at you sternly.

"YOU FUCKING TIED ME UP, WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO THINK?!!" you scream, your body lurching forward with the force of your words. The binding on your wrists squeezes painfully when you do so, and your face scrunches up in agony for a moment, as you set yourself back in place in a slightly more comfortable position.

"May I remind you again, this is all your own fault. You wouldn't talk to me, and like I said, I'm not giving up on this job easily. So tell me, why do you hate me so much?" he asks you, narrowing his eyes and crossing one foot in front of the other in a casual, confident stance.

"Cause you're an asshole??" you say, narrowing your eyes back at him, cocking your head to the side.

"And you're not?" he asks, smirking.

"You know I'm not," you growl, eyebrows furrowed together deeply. "You fucking know I'm not, I'm a fucking angel, actually, and everyone in that damn office loves me, and I never start shit with anyone. You know damn well that you started this, you did, you like messing with me and seeing me suffer, it must be entertaining to you cause your life is so fucking stuffy and perfect and boring. I mean those fucking suits you wear, to our simple little government-funded office. Where do you get off dressing like that??"

"I could ask you the same thing," he quips, raising his eyebrows momentarily. You eye him sharply, the question in your gaze obvious. "Your clothes, y/n, I can't believe Mr. Kangsoo lets you wear skirts that short in the office. Or tight shirts with no bra."

"He's probably never even thought about it, because he's never sexualized me like a fucking creep," you respond, face flushed from the idea that Yunho was looking at you like that for all of these months. It's mortifying, horrifying, and makes you feel suddenly so sick in your body, like you wish you could jump out of it. But you also can't deny that you've looked at him that way too, that the suits do it for you in a way that's almost embarrassing.

"I'm not a creep, I've just never had a boss who allows that," he says, sighing. "I can't deny that it's distracting." The words shutter through you, adding to the sick feeling growing in your low gut. It makes tears form in your eyes again too, from how humiliated you feel by his admission, that every day in the office when he was tormenting you, he was also gawking over your body in this way.

"You're so fucking gross," you mutter, looking at the ground in front of you, adjusting yourself again as your legs begin to ache from the position you're sitting in.

"What else do you think of me?" he prompts, loving to watch you squirm around in clear discomfort on the floor.

"I'm- this is so fucking disturbing Yunho, you're- I'm gonna-" you stop yourself from saying 'report this to the police,' because that visceral fear that he might kill you is still there. Even if he isn't planning on doing it, you don't want to say or do anything that might motivate him to, so you let the words die on your tongue, awkwardly huffing out the breath you'd just taken. Your gaze jumps around, but finds his face again fast, your mind working hard to try to understand what the hell is happening. Does he really just want to talk? Everything he's done seems too severe to be justified by just that, but you've found him hard to read since you met him. As you gaze at his face you see a smile on his lips, a smile that's revealed a small dimple on his left cheek and almost looks sweet. "Why the hell are you smiling?" you snap, your look severe and threatening.

"I'm just glad we're finally talking," he sighs, crossing his feet in the opposite direction. You just fix with him with a look of disgust, not wanting to speak anymore if that's truly what's bringing him joy in this moment. He knows saying that will shut you up for a bit, but he's okay with that, having things of his own that he needs to get off his chest. Now that the two of you are finally alone, away from the office, he can say the things that he's wondered for months.

"Y/n, can I ask you a question?" he starts, but he doesn't wait for an answer before barreling on. "Did you get into our field because you yourself deal with mental health issues, or have some big trauma from your past? I only ask, because, well, everyone at my last office fit that description, and I'm pretty sure everyone at our's does too, even Jongho. Everyone had to go to therapy as a kid, or in college cause of severe anxiety, and that's what led them to wanting to work in this field. Am I right, that that's true for you too?"

Your eyes remain fixed on him but you don't move your head for a second, not nodding or shaking it in an answer. The glassiness that forms in your eyes, though, is impossible to cover up, and Yunho can see from the tears starting to form that he's entirely, absolutely correct.

"You're very neurotic, do you know that?" he continues, and his question almost sounds genuine. "I mean, me hiding your favorite mug has you angry enough to slam the dishwasher closed? That mug isn't even yours, it's a part of the set that Dr. Acharya got the office two years ago as a Christmas present, meaning it belongs to everyone at the office. At least, that's what you told me my first day.  Sure, everyone has their favorite mugs, but no one is as obsessively possessive about it as you are. The littlest things set you off, stuff that shouldn't even affect you. What does it matter that I hid the mug? Who the fuck cares what mug you use? You dropped Jongho's favorite mug two months ago and it smashed everywhere, and he didn't freak out about it. He just started using a different one. Did you even know that was his favorite one? No, because he didn't insist on using it every day. Do you realize how ridiculous all of your little routines and patterns are? It's like if everything doesn't go exactly how you want it to, you'll die."

"No, that's you," you sob, his words pulling emotions out of you that you can't even describe.  He's the rich spoiled boy, he's the one who's never been told no in his life. He's the one who can't take disturbance to his needs, not you, not you, not me...

Your gut roils at his insult, and you realize in an instant that he's absolutely right, and that probably everyone at the office has thought that about you for years, but tolerated it anyway. Tears flow down your cheeks fast, and god you wish you could somehow wriggle your arms free, and punch that pretty face of his to make him shut up. 

"That's not me, actually. I do just fine dealing with whatever comes up at the office each day. I can even handle our arguments just fine, and don’t walk around with a scowl on my face all day. You know everyone is fucking scared to talk to you when you do that, right?"

"Shut up, shut up!!" you scream, the pain in your head growing the more you think about all your failings, all the ways you've fucked up in the last six months. That awful feeling of shame you were so scared to face earlier is hitting you now, and just like you thought, the pain is so bad that you don't think you're going to come out the other side of it alive.

"Don't tell me to shut up just cause I'm right, y/n. Fucking listen and take accountability for once," he snaps, his face more like anger now that you're yelling at him again, instead of just talking. "I don't think you understand how easy it's been for me to read you, since the moment I started at that job. Am I wrong for liking it when something I do pisses you off? Maybe, I can't help that it's fun. I could see this whole conflict unfolding from the first day you turned cold with me, and I knew that there wasn't a fucking thing I could do to stop that. So I thought I'd just let it happen, and try my best to enjoy the ride. I can't change the fact that you're so caught up in your own head that you ca-"

"AAHHHHHHHH!!!!" you scream, just to drown out the noise, just to make the pain in your head stop. The scream is guttural, loud and painful as it exits your throat, but you keep screaming until your lungs are empty because the relief it's providing you is at least something. When you run out of air you take another ragged breath in and then you scream again, this time the sound harsher, your throat struggling to handle it. Tears are forming and streaming down your face faster than they ever have, and your body jerks against the ropes on your wrists, as you try to muster all your strength and somehow finally break free. Unable to do so, you scream again, eyes closed as you heave from the pain, your skin no doubt damaged from rope burn.

"Y/n, y/n, calm down," you hear, Yunho's voice soft and close to you. A hand comes to brush the tears from your cheek, but you jerk away violently, your wrists snagging painfully on the rope at a different angle this time.

"GET AWAY FROM ME!" you cry, but it comes out softer than intended because your throat is already so worn, and you cough hard on your next inhale.

"Y/n, seriously, take a deep breath, stop," Yunho says, backing up slightly and not touching you again, but still sitting himself close enough to you that you can feel his presence, feel the warmth radiating off his body. The shock of it makes you realize just how cold you are, only a thin long sleeve shirt on now that your coat has been discarded somewhere in the hall.

"SHUT UP, GET THE FUCK AWAY!!" you cry again, wincing hard from the pain in our throat, your breaths ragged as you try to recover from the pain and ready yourself to scream again.

"Y/n..." he warns, but you just scream again, so entirely afraid of the feelings inside that you can't think to do anything else. "I SAID, STOP!" he finally yells, and the force of it is so strong that it nearly knocks you back, all the breath in your lungs leaving immediately.

You stare at him wide eyed, seeing now that he's crouched down on the floor, about five feet from you. The fear is evident in your gaze, and so is the fact that you're holding your breath and you have absolutely no idea.

"You should breathe, you know," he says, his voice suddenly back to the neutral tone of earlier. You snap back into your body for a moment, shakily taking in the breath your lungs were crying for, and you notice you're shaking, aches and pains searing through almost every part of you. "You don't know what's good for you, do you?" he continues, coming to sit cross legged in front of you, his arms resting on his legs and his hands clasped together. You wriggle in front of him, wincing as you try to move your aching leg to a more comfortable position. You struggle to find it, getting stuck in a spot that's even worse, and you sigh in frustration. "Just sit cross-legged, it'll be more comfortable," he sighs, moving forward towards you, with his hands outstretched. You lurch away from his touch again, and he sits back down, sighing harder. "I was going to help you change your sitting position, cause I know it's hard to do with your arms bound," he says, and you don't have time to wonder why he knows that. You stare back with a hardened gaze, eyes piercing daggers into him. "Will you let me help you?" he asks, and it's the first time all conversation that his tone has changed in that way; it's softer, warmer, and for a moment makes your chest flutter. You don't answer him again, you just stare and stare and try to make sense of his words, but somehow he can tell you won't fight him now, and he moves forward to help you, holding your body up just enough so you can swing your legs under you in this different way.

Once you're sitting you do feel relief, your knees thanking you now that they aren't bearing the majority of your weight, your ankles thankful that they're resting at a much more natural angle.

"You need to stop fighting me, and fighting those ropes, or you're just gonna keep hurting yourself," he says, voice calm.

"I didn't fucking agree to this!" you snap, your changing feelings giving you whiplash. "You've tied me up against my will, Yunho, or did you somehow forget? This isn't some cute little scene I agreed to, you forced this on me!" you yell, trying hard to be forceful without hurting your throat again.

"And it's going to be good for you in the long run, if you'd just relax and stop fighting me. Have you considered that maybe I know what's best?" He quirks a brow, eyeing you now from only two feet away, that heat still radiating off of him. Noticing it again you begin to shiver, your body shaking involuntarily. Your muscles feel tight and painful from the restriction, and the cold isn't helping one bit.

"How the fuck is tying me up against my will good for me?" you spit, leaning forward every so slightly now that you can.

"I know you don't want to lose that job," he says, eyeing you intensely, his gaze boring into you. "I know that job means everything to you. And I know that if I didn't intervene, you would have lost it. You were too scared to come talk to me. You were never going to admit to your part in our arguments, to your fault. You clearly have too much pride to admit any wrongdoing, almost ever."

It really is sick how right he is about everything, and you begin to wonder if he somehow can read minds.

"Listen, I will let you go later, you have my word. I'm not gonna kill you. But I'm pretty sure this is the only way I could ever get you to apologize to me, and without doing that, we would never be able to resolve this." His eyes still haven't left yours, and this close you can see the details of his iris, the stubble on his cheeks and chin, and the small birth mark on the side of his jaw. It makes you sick, he makes you sick, every little perfect thing about him.

"Look, I'll start. I'm sorry for hiding your mug, I'm sorry for leaving you little notes, which were really just jokes but I know you took them offensively, I'm sorry for being hard on you in the admin meetings. I'm sorry for pissing you off and finding it funny. None of that was cool."

"That wasn't a very good apology," you retort, rolling your eyes.

"Still better than no apology at all," he replies, and you can't help but roll them again. "Did you hear what I said earlier, when you were screaming?" he asks, and you shake your head. "I was saying, I think you were so caught up in your head and convinced that I was out to get you, that you didn't realize in all those little notes I was trying to let you know that I like you."

"You have a funny way of showing it," you say, huffing in anger.

"Was it not obvious?" he asks.

"Was what not obvious?"

"That I like you."

"You insulted me in every single one!"

"I called you pretty in every single one."

"Yeah, in an insulting, 'you're pretty and stupid and don't know shit' kind of way."

"I never meant it like that. That was your interpr-"

"Sure." You roll your eyes hard again, sighing in exasperation.

"Don't interrupt me," he retorts, eyes hard.

"I'll do what I fucking want," you reply, exhausted by the conversation now, losing control of yourself.

"I think you're forgetting how vulnerable you are right now," he responds, scooting forward enough so that he can reach behind you and tug on the ropes, both checking that they're still secured and reminding you just how trapped you are.

I don't care anymore, you think, dropping your head, and it almost feels like your body has given in now. It's not that the fight is gone, but something about the change in position has your body relaxed, now that no part of you is actively getting hurt by your sitting position.

"What was that?" Yunho asks, his voice soft.

"Huh?" you snap your head up, eye him with confusion.

"Did you just say you don't care anymore?" Your eyes go slightly wide, realizing you'd said that aloud and not just in your head to yourself. You nod in response, eyes stuck on him, on the black hair that's fallen in his face, on the way his hand frantically pushes it away. "What do you mean?"

"I don't care, hurt me, do whatever, I don't care," you say, body relaxing in defeat.

"No, no we're not doing that," he says, and you squint at him in frustration. "You always just give up when things are hard, or when you think you'll fail. It's fucking pathetic."

Tears are back in your eyes, and you look at the floor in front of you, the small expanse of wood separating the two of you.

"I know, I FUCKING KNOW I'M PATHETIC, IS THAT WHAT YOU WANT ME TO SAY?!" you scream, frustration boiling up again.

"Yes, it is," he says with a satisfied smile.

"You want me to just tear myself down in front of you, is that it??"

"Finally you're understanding," he sighs, looking you over with what almost could be pride.

"Fuck you," you mutter, trying to bring yourself down from yet another surge in adrenaline.

"Fucking apologize. Tell me what you did wrong. I'm tired of waiting," he snaps, and the words feel like they lance through you. It makes you notice your body again, notice the way you're shaking hard from the cold.

"I'm fucking freezing Yunho," you say, tone begging him to take mercy on you.

"I know, I can see you shivering. Apologize to me and I'll get you a blanket," he spits.

"No," you whine, your body pleading with you, desperately wanting relief from the cold.

"Your nipples are so hard I can see them through your shirt." He's smirking, staring unabashedly at your chest, and it makes you scream again, writhing around with that unbridled anger, making your body hurt again. 

"Y/n, y/n, fucking hell," Yunho lurches forward to grab onto you, physically forcing you to stop moving, stop hurting yourself even more. His arms are wrapped around you, your head pulled into his chest, and you can smell him now, the faint musk coming from under his arms, the slight sour edge making your head feel funny.

"You lied to boss," you rasp out, voice muffled against his chest.

"What?" he asks, settling down to now hold you in place.

"You said you weren't attracted to me.  In the meeting." He just grunts in response, so ambiguously that you can't tell if he's agreeing or not. "Is that not what you meant by, 'I like you'?

"It is," he replies, sighing.

"Then why did you lie?" you ask, surprised he would do that in front of your boss, even given the nature of the question.

"Cause you did first," he responds, matter of factly.

"I didn't lie," you mutter, holding your eyes closed, your head still feeling funny as you try to shake free whatever feelings are enveloping you.

"You either lied to him, or to yourself," he says, finally pulling back, seeming to trust that you won't flail around again. But the slightest muscle twitch of your arm has his grip back on you in seconds, and you just sit there staring up at him, his hands gripping your arms tight to keep you from pulling on the ropes. "Which was it?"

"Stop," you whisper, harshly, your spit spraying in his face. He wipes it away with the back of his hand, eyeing you harshly, something clicking into place behind his eyes.

"You're really gonna make me fucking do this, aren't you," he grumbles, almost like it's just to himself. He shakes his head, sighing sharply, and you eye him with worry. He looks half disappointed, but half amused, and once he picks his hand up and flicks your already-hard nipple, the look becomes pure amusement just from your reaction.

"Ahh," you involuntarily moan, mortified at the sounds that just left your lips.

"You're sensitive," he chuckles, pinching the other harshly, making your whole body jolt in reaction.

"Yunho, stop, please, please," you beg, the pathetic, pleading look in your eye making his whole body react.

"If you'd just do what I ask, you could avoid these things," he chuckles, roughly pinching both of them now. Your back arches, and you fight to keep your breathing steady and not make any more embarrassing noises. But the pain and pleasure he's causing you is making it hard, and small gasps and whines leave your throat. "I think some part of you wanted this, though," he chuckles.

When he pulls back he's eyeing your arms, and the look of resolve and certainty in his eyes has you panicking, your brain struggling to make sense of it in any way.

"Please Yunho, please no," you whine again.

"Doll, you've left me no choice," he responds, sighing deeply as if he's thinking hard, not bothering to look you in the eye. Suddenly he's down to the side of you, and you feel his hands working fast behind you, the ropes pushed and pulled in various directions, making the sore skin of your wrists ache with every change of pressure. You're out of words now, utterly confused and helpless, and you lack the ability to fight him anymore, your body succumbing to exhaustion and not wanting to be bruised any further.

Suddenly you feel one of your wrists is free, the muscles in your shoulder relieved at finally being able to move, your body shuttering as it tries to work out the knots that have formed. You're partially free now, you realize for a moment, but just as fast you feel a final tug that loosens your other wrist from the bedpost, and then Yunho is yanking your wrists around to tie them in front of you instead. In a flash he's lifted you up, setting you down on the side of his bed, on your side. You're facing him, where he's now sat on the floor, as he grabs your legs and bends them up towards your arms, beginning to secure all of your limbs together in multiple knots. You lay in an almost catatonic state, staring at the wall of his room, the closet door partially cracked. You can see some of the suits and a few other random jackets you don't think you've ever seen before. You're so zoned out on the wall, so out of your body and out of your mind, that you don't even notice your pants and panties being pulled down to your thighs. It isn't until you feel the skin to skin contact, Yunho's hand gripping your thigh where it meets your hips, that you notice.

"What the fuck!" you squeal, head snapping back to him again, and the look on his face is cocky and self-satisfied, like he's proud of the reaction he's just pulled out of you.

"Yunho, please, no no no, please," you start babbling, repeating the words over and over until they feel almost meaningless. You can tell exactly where his hands are headed, where this whole thing is headed, but you don't have the physical strength in you to fight anymore. Or, more accurately, fighting with your body seems like the worst thing you can do right now, something that will only hurt you more and probably rile him up, too. He can see the gears turning in your head, and he's pressing, waiting for you to break, because it didn't take him long today to realize that he has a better read on you than you've ever had on yourself. You continue to babble your displeasure as he moves his hand up higher, higher, just brushing past your core and making you wince, but he doesn't reply to your words with words of his own, because he knows now that there's no point. He moves his hand up to your ass slowly, a trail of your wetness following his fingers, and even he's shocked by how much was there between your legs. He's sure you have no idea, that you're totally oblivious to the way your body has reacted to his words, his actions, to being bound and unable to move. 

He's sure that for months now you had no idea that so much of the frustration you felt while being around him was the frustration of being teased, your body wanting certain touches that he was never giving you. He was certain you weren't taking care of it enough yourself, because he saw your thighs clench all the time when you stared at him, and sometimes he could even swear he smelled the arousal pooling in your panties, your short skirts leaving too little of a barrier.

Now, finally he was touching you, and it didn't surprise him that that soft wet part between your legs had reacted so quickly. It also wasn't a shock that your brain still hadn't caught up, that you still didn't see what was so obvious to him. He knew it would take more than a gentle brush of your clit for you to finally realize it, so moving his hand back down towards your center, he quickly found your entrance, firmly brushing the pad of his middle finger up your slit until he rubbed right over your sensitive bud again.

"Fuck! Okay, fuck, stop it, I'll apologize," you cry, the soft pad of his finger sending sparks through you as soon as it made contact with your clit. The feeling made your body shake again, but suddenly a warmth was filling your lower gut and you couldn't be more shocked by the feeling, and by how inviting, even comforting, it felt. It was another moment where you were ricocheted back into your body, into the present moment, and the strange nature of everything that was happening was too much to make sense of. All you knew is you needed your confusion to stop, because now more than any other feeling it was your inner conflict that scared you, the fact that you had earlier wished for him to grab you, the fact that now your body seemed so content to just stay in these ropes forever, as long as your position was comfortable enough.

All you could think to do now was to give him what he wanted, and what that was exactly you couldn't remember, other than that he wanted you to say something.

"I'm-I'm sorry, okay, I'm really sorry, I don't know how everything got as fucked up as- as it got, oh god, I'm sorry- I- I promise you I mean it," you babble, eyes closed as you try to control your breathing enough to speak.

"What are you sorry for?" he asks you, his face close enough that you feel his hot breath, his voice gentle but steady.

"I'm- I- I don't know, I- I-" You're distracted by his hand, but the way it's steadily making small circles over your clit and sending more of that heat into you, your mind less and less able to focus on your attempt at an apology.

"You don't know?" he asks, and it's patronizing, you both know it, but it doesn't even hurt you now. You just nod, sniffling as you whisper 'I'm sorry,' your eyes getting wet and heavy with how overwhelmed you feel. "You can't think straight now, can you?" he asks you, his finger working you steadily, his nose picking up on that scent he's become so familiar with. You shake your head, your breathing picking up gently from the pleasure enveloping you like a warm blanket. "Good, you think too much anyway," he chuckles, watching your face intently, his pride surging at the way he's picking you apart so perfectly.

"I think I know why you're sorry," he says, making you whine in response, nervous for what he's about to say. "I'm gonna guess, I think I'm right," he smiles, but you don't even see it with your eyes glued shut. He's happy though, seeing you like that, because he knows that finally you're in your body completely, and you're accepting what he's known you need. "You're sorry cause you know you fucked up, don't you? You know you took things too personally, you overreacted, you couldn't let my jokes or my pranks just be that, you had to make it more. And once you reacted that way once, you felt entitled to react that way every time, didn't you? You're sorry that you didn't stop that snowball in its tracks, before it became this huge thing, right?"

You groan in response to him, pissed as can be, but you can't tell him he's wrong because you're physically incapable now of lying. Something in the way he's making you feel, the way he's touching you, has melted a layer of your mental shield away, and you see now every word he's said is reflected inside you. The thoughts had been there for months, but you'd managed to avoid them almost completely, the occasional blip causing guilt and worry to cloud you for a day or two. But this was the first time you saw it truly for all that it was, how deep the guilt cut into you, how you spoke about him so nastily to other people because you really wanted to say those things to yourself.

"You'd never be able to forgive yourself if you admitted those things, huh?" he continues, making your breath hitch. "You don't want to admit them because you're scared you'll never feel the same about yourself ever again, right? Cause you're this perfect little angel, and you've been that for so many years, the perfect baby of the office, the perfect student in school, I'm sure, and admitting to yourself that you can be cruel, that would ruin the entire image you've created for yourself, wouldn't it?" Tears are streaming down your face now as you involuntarily nod, your whole body somehow enveloped in the warmth his touch is providing, despite how cold it is. Now that you're in your body, really truly in your body, you can notice the little things about your environment; you even notice the wind howling outside, not the loudest you could imagine, but enough that you know the storm is still blustering on. You try to blink open your eyes to look at him, but everything is blurred with your tears, and you vigorously shake your head back and forth, trying in vain to clear your vision. As if he can read your mind, Yunho's free hand comes up to wipe them away, and for some reason now it doesn't feel so bad, his hand touching your face gently, even if it still feels so new and strange. Once he's wiped away the tears you can get a good look at him, your faces only a few inches apart now.

"Am I right?" he asks, genuine, you know it's genuine, and you can't fucking believe it looking at him. He feels like one massive contradiction right now, and all you can do is whisper 'yeah' in response. Your answer clearly pleases him, and you suddenly feel his hand's movement slow, falter, and then he's moving his fingers down towards your entrance, pressing into you gently, only one finger at first.

"Yunho," you groan while shutting your eyes again, the feel of it so foreign, because if you were honest with yourself you hadn't had someone touch you in this way in years, and you weren't really one to put things inside of yourself if it was just you taking care of your needs. 

"I know you need this," he responds, gently starting to pump in and out, the muscles of your cunt getting used to the feelings of pressure and release that they'd missed for so long. 

"You have to forgive yourself," he starts up again, as he gradually starts upping his pace, working slowly and methodically. "You have to let yourself go of being that perfect angel. It's not realistic. You're a human, you're going to fuck up sometimes. And sometimes you have such a big crush on your handsome coworker that, well, you start acting out. And even you don't realize what you're doing, cause you're so caught up in your own head." You groan and roll your eyes when he calls himself handsome, and you still don't think you fully believe the rest of what he's said, but the first part, the part about forgiving yourself and freeing yourself of that perfect image, is calling to a part of you. "You're very sensitive, and I know you don't want to be, but you are. You can't ignore that, or it's gonna catch up with you time and time again."

He adds another finger, curling them up inside you in a perfect way, and you almost stop listening to what he's saying because at this point the pleasure is taking over your senses completely. He adds his thumb to your clit now, the feelings increasing exponentially, your clit feeling hot and fiery under his touch. It all still feels so foreign, so new, and something within you, particularly within the place he's touching you, still feels the need to hold back, to worry, to be tense. He can feel it too, and he guessed himself that you hadn't been touched in a while, from everything he'd observed about you. He figured you were someone who might have written off relationships and sex entirely, someone too focused on what their duty to the world was, to maintaining the image of good morals, that you weren't partaking in those things people consider selfish, or self-indulgent. He even wondered for a bit if you'd never been touched, but that seemed unlikely from some of the random comments he'd overheard in your conversations with Tally.

"You know, you can't come if you're so tense down there," he says, and again it's kind of patronizing, but you don't really care. "You have to let go."

"I- I've never come from, inside, st- stimulation," you stutter, looking at him directly, hoping to convey that despite your state you're being completely sincere.

"Really?" 

"I- I can't," you say, shaking your head, thinking of all of your sexual exploits, the list of which can fit on one hand.

"I'm gonna try," he chuckles, his focus zeroing in on your body's reactions to his movements. "I really do need you to relax those muscles for me, relax your hips too. They're too tense, do you even feel that?" he asks, tapping the side of your thigh where the muscle is taught. You shake your head, frowning and burying your face into the duvet cover you're laying on. "No, don't shy away from me. Don't go back into your head. I know that's why you haven't come in the past, cause you were too in your head. You can't do that. Come on, just focus on my touch, think about how it feels, nothing else."

You try with all you have to follow his instructions, keeping your eyes on his face as you watch him furrow his brow in concentration, the muscles in his jaw flexing for a moment when he changes the angle of his hand ever so slightly. The new spot he was hitting inside felt so perfect, so shockingly deep, and finally your body started to cave into the feelings, your breathy moans coming out as you lost yourself in it, not thinking anymore about where you were or why you were there.

"You know you're not perfect, deep down you know that, and you need to accept that. You're not a robot, you're like all the rest of us, fucked up in so many ways, wanting selfishly for life to always go your way, wanting everyone to like you, praise you, cherish you. And that's okay, it doesn't make you some horrible person. You're neurotic, sensitive, intense, so what? You'll never not be those things, and that's okay. Just fucking let yourself be a human, so you don't get so fucking hung up on every little thing wrong with me." He punctuates the last word, reminding you why you're here. His hand is working you perfectly, and mixed with all that he's saying it's all encompassing, the overwhelming intensity you're feeling. Suddenly you feel something building deep within you, a coil about to snap, and you feel your legs begin to shake before it's even washing over you. The most intense orgasm of your life erupts within you, snaking out from your core down to your feet and back up again, surging to your head and making everything go gray and fuzzy, your mind blinded with a pleasure you've never known. You hear distant, warbled words coming from Yunho's mouth still, but you can't make them out as your orgasm builds in waves, lasting longer than you expect and completely knocking the wind from your lungs. As you come down you’re breathing ragged, so ragged, and you don't even realize that you've clamped down so hard on Yunho's hand that he can't move it anymore. You stare up at him, pupils blown and your face flushed, and in a moment he leans down to place a soft peck on your cheek, taking you by surprise.

"Why are you kissing me?" you ask, eyeing him with confusion and contempt, the action seeming absurd in the current circumstances.

"I'm proud of you. You finally gave into me, you're finally doing what I wanted you to," he replies. It's fucked, you know the sentiment is creepy and strange and so genuinely absurd, but you can't help feeling flattered by it. A small smile sneaks onto your lips, and Yunho sees how you're feeling too. "God you're a sucker for praise," he laughs, slowly removing his hand now that you've relaxed enough. "All you want to hear is that you're good, you're perfect. Can't bear anything else, can you?" You shake your head, as he stands up from where he's been sitting, unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants, pulling his cock out swiftly, eyeing you up and down. Your face is one of shock, mostly at seeing the size of him; you're not sure where this is headed exactly, but you just hope he'll be gentle with you, whatever he does.

"What, you thought I wasn't going to do this?" he asks, starting to move onto the bed beside you.

"No, it's just..." you sigh, shaking your head, not even sure what to fucking say, still in the haze of your orgasm.

"Oh, you didn't think I'd be this big," he laughs.

"You're so fucking full of yourself," you mutter, rolling your eyes. "Just make it quick, please," you say, almost under your breath, regretting it the moment it's left your lips.

"I'll take as much time as I fucking want with you," he responds, lining himself up with your still soaking entrance, rubbing the head around to gather up some of your wetness. He's fucking into you sideways, his body over yours as you remain on your side, bound and unable to move at all. He enters you slowly, feeling the stretch himself, seeing your eyebrows furrow in what must be pain.

"How long has it been?" he asks, leaning over you as he finally bottoms out, staying put as he lets your body adjust to the size of him. You look confused, so he clarifies, "since you've been fucked?"

You groan, the majority of your brainpower taken up in dealing with the strange mix of pain and pleasure happening between your legs. You don't have it in you to fight with him now, and you don't really want to; you're almost enjoying it now, just letting him talk and belittle and say whatever he pleases.

Once he feels your body relax just that little bit he needs, he moves his hips back, gently pushing himself back in again, but quickly setting a pace that feels good for him. He's holding one arm around your back and anchoring that hand on the back of your neck; the other arm is bent at the elbow, supporting him and holding onto your bound legs and arms, anchoring him to you. The thrusts feel intense, sharp, and biting at first, but soon all you can feel is the way he's repeatedly hitting your cervix, his cock so deep inside you that you feel like you might explode. You can't help the pathetic mewls you're making, eyes closed as you hear his steady grunts and heavy breathing so close to your ear.

"I know you've rejected tons of men, if it's been as long as I think," he says, and you feel his breath brushing across your cheek and neck, making you shiver. "Not just men, I should say. You're so fucking oblivious to everything. Do you even realize that Tally has a huge crush on you? I'm sure she'd love to fuck your brains out," he chuckles, making you groan in annoyance again, not believing him for a second. "I'm sorry, I know, forgive me. I can't help myself, I just love telling you all the things I know you don't realize." His pace hasn't let up, if anything it's increased, and his grip on you is tightening, his torso now flush with yours and his face only inches from your own. "Fuck, I'm not gonna last much longer, shit you're tight," he sighs, a groan rumbling from somewhere deep in his chest. He knows his pace will leave you sore tomorrow, but it feels too good for him to stop, and it seems just the right thing to finally get your mind off all of the superfluous, stressful stuff you usually obsessively think about. It's not just that either; he can feel your body slowly coming undone again, and though it's built differently than the last time, the tell tale signs are there in the way your hips start moving against him, your breathing changing just like it did before. You come hard again, the feeling erupting from even higher inside your core this time, and it feels even more intense the second time around, your whole body shaking intensely this time.

"See, your body needed this," he whispers in your ear, his hard thrusts continuing through your aftershocks, soon becoming painful and hard to bear. Your face has turned sour as he chases his own climax, and even as bad as it feels, part of you is so content to just sit here and take it. The feeling of having no other option, of being held here and used for another's pleasure, it makes some of your internal confusion go away. You liked this part at least; maybe everything that came before was not to your liking, but this part definitely was.

He finishes with a final hard thrust, groaning out a 'fuck', before pressing his hips flush with yours and keeping them there. You feel his warm cum filling you, his warm body wrapping around you, and finally you do truly feel warm, from the inside out. This was a feeling you could get used to, your head fuzzy and soft and lacking the usual worries you have, your body relaxed, spent, and warm.

It isn't long that you're in that position, Yunho pulling out of you quickly, walking over to his bathroom to grab a towel and start wiping you and his comforter clean of the mess he'd made. The absence of him left you feeling cold again, your body stiffening up faster than you thought it would, and your shivers returning as soon as he took the damp towel to your most sensitive area. Eyes closed you're still holding onto the remnants of that blissful feeling, especially the way your brain feels so wonderfully empty. You're surprised when you feel Yunho messing with your ropes, assuming he'd just leave you there for a little while, or maybe for a long while, it was hard to say. But quickly he's undone the entirety of the knots, and he tosses the rope onto the floor, manually moving your limbs to help your body stretch out and begin returning blood flow to the places that lost it.

It hurts when he does this, though it feels good too, but you whine and complain the whole time, even as he assures you it's best and it's needed. He then slowly takes off your clothes entirely, leaving you naked and exposed, and the cold is almost overbearing now, making your body ache all the way into your bones.

"It's fucking cold, you asshole," you groan, tucking yourself back up into that fetal position you were just in for so long, despite the fact that the ropes are gone now.

"Just give me a minute, I know," he sighs, somewhere behind you, over in the direction of his bathroom. You hear what must be the bathtub faucet turn on, the strong current of water sounding clearly through the quiet house. Then he's coming over to you, wrapping you up in his arms and carrying you that way, setting you gently into his huge tub before it's even finished filling. The hot water feels like it's sizzling your skin upon first contact, but soon your body relaxes in the warmth, especially your back once the water reaches all the way up to your neck. His tub is nice; there are spots designed specifically to rest your arms on, the slope of the side a comfortable angle for relaxing down onto.

"Give me your arms," he says, and you look up at him begrudgingly, holding your arms out of the water like it's the hardest thing in the world.

"Little brat," he mutters, taking the first into his hands and slowly applying some lotion to your rope burns, wrapping it loosely in a thin bandage. He does the same to the other, setting them both on the sides of the tub, out of the water. "Keep them there, I'm going to get some ice. We need to ice those burns so they don't bruise too badly," he says, and you just stare through him, not nodding or saying anything. He doesn't need that kind of confirmation though, he knows you'll follow his commands. He returns a few minutes later, two ice packs and more bandages in hand, and somehow balanced between it all, your phone.

"It looks like you have some missed calls," he says, showing you your phone screen. You see three missed calls from Yunji, and a slew of texts, and your heart jumps back up in speed momentarily, even in your relaxed and numb state.

"I gotta call her now," you say, your words rushed, reaching out your bandaged wrist to grab at your phone. Yunho holds it just out of reach though, and then sets it down on the counter by the sink, turning back to you with a knowing look.

"I need to ice your wrists first. Then we'll call her," he says.

"Yunho, seriously, she's gonna call the fucking police, I know her," you respond, eyeing him sharply with disapproval.

"And you, seriously, need to wait a moment," he snaps, and you really don't like this control now, because it's affecting someone else, not just you.

"I fucking hate you," you mutter, pushing yourself up despite your weak and painful muscles, moving yourself out of his bathtub without a care in the world for all of the water you're spilling everywhere.

"Okay, okay, fine," he concedes, holding onto your shoulders while your one foot is still in the tub, not letting you move any further. "I'm putting it on speaker on the side of the tub, so that I can ice your wrists." Your faces are inches apart, the look in his eye is intense, almost like he's compelling you to agree with him.

"Fine," you sigh, sitting yourself back down, your body basking in being back in the water. Then, as he said, he's set your phone on the side of the tub, somehow guessing your passcode and opening it with ease, calling Yunji immediately. As the call begins to ring he sets to work on your wrists again, gently wrapping the ice packs around the smaller bandages already on your sensitive skin.

"Girl, oh my god, where are you??" Yunji answers, her panic obvious.

"I'm- I'm at Yunho's, I'm fine though, I swear-" you start, knowing she'll be horrified by just his name alone.

"Oh my god what???" she cuts you off, gasping. "Are you okay? What happened?"

"Yes I'm okay, Yun, I promise. I just- I ran into him on my way back from the store, and well, I got sort of, tied up, talking with him, and then the storm came so- so now I'm stuck here." Yunho's face breaks into a smirk, knowing just how literal two of the words you just said are.

"Oh god, you poor thing, are you sure you're okay? That man is insane," she sighs. Yunho eyes you, a playful look on his face, almost like he's trying to avoid laughing.

"Seriously, I'm okay, I promise. It was actually really good, I guess, talking about things. We were more, uh, honest I guess? I- I don't know, there's a lot to process. It was weird. But I'm okay, I- I swear," you sigh, wishing you weren't stuttering so much over your words.

"Are you sure you're okay?" she asks again.

"I know I sound like a mess, I'm sorry. The storm is kind of freaking me out," you reply.

"It's okay hun, don't apologize. I can't believe you're stuck there with him. God, I don't think you'll be able to come home tonight. Is there somewhere you can sleep there?" Yunho nods at her question, eyeing you as he does.

"Uh, yeah, he has a guest room here. He said I could stay in there. At least it's separate, my own space," you answer her.

"God, I'm so sorry you're there. I shouldn't have let you go to the store, I should have stopped you..." she trials off, and you can bet her hand is slapped over her face in frustration.

"No, don't apologize Yun, I think it was good that this happened. I mean, I don't know, at least something has changed between me and him. And you had no idea that the storm would return so quickly like it did. It was my own stupidity, if anything, I just-" you cut yourself off, shaking your head side to side against the hard porcelain of the tub. "Thank you for checking up on me, I'm sorry I missed your calls. I was just talking with him, I got distracted. I hate that I worried you so much." It feels a little weird lying to her, but above all you want her to know you appreciate how much she looks out for you.

"It's okay, I'm just glad you're safe and okay. And hopefully tomorrow it'll clear up enough that you can come back here where you belong."

Her last word brings tears to your eyes, thinking of your perfect little apartment and just how much of a home you two have made of it.

"I love you so much," you sigh, looking over at your phone, wishing you were seeing her face instead.

"I love you too, I wish you were here," she replies.

"I know, me too," you say.

"We can keep talking if you want."

"I- I should probably go, I'm starving so I guess I need to go ask Yunho about dinner. But I'll call later, if that's okay? I'm sure I'll be bored as shit," you chuckle, and she does too, the tension finally breaking.

"Sounds good, call me whenever. I hope he has something decent for you to eat. I doubt he can cook or anything, if he's such a spoiled rich boy." You both laugh in sync, Yunho rolling his eyes as he places the final bandage on your second wrist, securing the ice packs in place.

"Okay, talk to you soon," you say, smirking up at him.

"Bye bye," she replies, hanging up the call.

"You two are so mean," he sighs, shaking his head and walking out of the room, and you relax into the silence of the room, your wrists starting to feel the cold of the ice packs, the relief palpable. Your body is wrecked, you can feel it intensely, but the warm bath relaxing your muscles and ice on your wrists is making it bearable, your body already on the path towards healing. Yunho returns about ten minutes later, when you've almost nodded off, and takes a small washcloth into the warm water, using it to wipe the snot and tears that have stained your cheeks. Then he's feeding you a warm cup of tea, holding it as your arms lay unusable at your sides; he does the same with the small bowl of stew he's heated for you, the tastes rich and fresh in a way that make it obvious it's homemade. The attentiveness doesn't feel overly sweet, but the calm that's settled in the air between you isn't something you've experienced with him at all, the entire time you've known one another. You're both silent, comfortable, and the warm stew is just so delicious, the meat tender and soft and perfectly seasoned. Your senses are overwhelmed in solace, your breaths deep and stable. Your nerves have returned to you, so you're no longer numb. But instead of the high strung alertness that usually accompanies you, your body is present but calm.

When you finally finish the stew and tea, thirty minutes have passed in total silence, Yunho taking his time with feeding you, letting your body relax in the hot water. He places the empty bowl and mug on the counter, moving back to start unwrapping the ice packs, and then beckoning you to stand, bringing a huge fluffy towel to wrap around your shoulders. The towel dwarfs you, keeping the cold away, and you gently step out of the tub, following Yunho wherever he leads you.

"Can you walk?" he asks, and you nod your head, following him over towards the counter. He pulls out a brush from one of the drawers, gently taking it to the knots that had formed in your hair, the ends damp from the tub. After he finishes he leads you out of his room, down the hall two doors down, and you enter to another room with a large bed, a TV on the opposite wall, the whole room immaculately decorated. He leads you to the bed, placing your phone on the bedside table and grabbing a charger out of the drawer. He also grabs the remote inside, placing it next to your phone, and a bottle of water, holding it out to you.

"I'll be in my room, if you need anything else," he says, standing up to make his way out.

"I'm sorry I kept ignoring your texts, and calls," you say, your voice quiet, the words escaping you without much thought.

He just eyes you for a minute, turning to face you, his face unreadably neutral. "I'm not," he finally says, smiling, that cocky grin back on his perfect face. You roll your eyes at him, settling into the bed, pulling the comforter up and over you.

He makes to leave the room again, but stops himself at the door, turning back to face you one final time

"We're going back to the office Monday, right?" he asks.

You don't respond, you don't say a word. But he doesn't need you to. He knows the answer, just like he knows you, with a certainty maybe he shouldn't have.

taglist: @lalalasexyguyshehehehe @hoe4rkpop @rienzz @bloomyroses

thank you sm for reading my loves <3333

[ir-abelas-vhenan]

Something Something Yeah It's Still Solavellan Hours (Mythal is kind of here, too)

I've seen a few very beautifully articulated posts talking about the conflicted responses players are finding themselves having in regards to the decision by writers* to have Solas' atonement route possible because of his conversation with one of the remaining fragments of Mythal.

(*honestly I hesitate to put the weight of bigger game events on their shoulders because of how much I know bigger players in the company were involved, so when you read 'writers' know I just mean whoever had final say on plot)

I love reading where people are at on this, and having now breathed, re-played the scene, cried, read some more theories, and then played the scene again enough times I think I'm now able to figure out where I'm at.

TLDR: in my humble opinion, the conversation Solas has with Mythal doesn't bring him any actual closure at all. It is only the version of the atonement ending that has Lavellan in which he is actually set upon a road to redemption.

This, like everything else where I lose my mind, will be long. I tried to restrain myself and here we are, unhinged as ever.

I was unhappy at first that Mythal's incredibly brief conversation with Solas where she releases him from her service seemed to be what finally allowed him to make a decision based on his wants and not hers. My concern stemmed mostly from the fact that a lot of us are trying to be active participants in a society that recognizes patterns of abuse and seeks to establish channels through which individuals can pursue healing without the approval, consent, or demise of their abuser.

But the more I look at the scene, the more I wonder what would have happened in a world where Veilguard got just a little more time in development. Could we have gotten a scene that more elegantly conveys the theme that we cannot heal every part of our loved ones, much as we might like to?

In an imperfect world it isn't always up to us how someone finds closure, which really sucks when you'd like to ensure a loved one finds it in a way that preserves their dignity and limits exposure to the individuals who have harmed them.

And while it could be left there, I'd like to actually push back on the idea that Mythal is in any way responsible for "healing" Solas in this moment.

I went on a different tirade a few days ago about how at the end of Inquisition, Mythal says words to Solas that on their surface seem well-intentioned or placating, but they actually just serve to further bind him in guilt and a position of servitude. In Veilguard's finale, she still does not take accountability for exactly how much of a role she played in the pain that Solas, a man others have revered and feared as a god, has gone through as he cowers, actually cowers before her.

Mythal's interaction with Solas conveys exactly two things to him as far as I am concerned (I'm going to botch these quotes but my laptop is dying so please accept some paraphrase as I rush to finish this before I go cry about this analysis to my uncaring dog):

"The terrible things we did, we did together." You are forever tied to me.

"I release you from my service." But what am I releasing you to?

Because up until Lavellan joins the fray here, all I take away from the physical and unwilling emotional cues Solas gives in this scene (he is a master in trickery, for goodness' sake, the thought of so many witnesses seeing him unable to hide behind a mask has to leave him feeling anguished on top of everything else) is that Mythal has once again reminded him of everything he did in her name and telling him that all that's left for him is to go back to the fade prison and, as he as always done, endure the crushing weight of his failures alone.

To me, in my interpretation, the Solas that hears this from Mythal with no Lavellan intervention may choose to willingly step down from his original plan (and yeah, that's gonna do some damage) but he is certainly not free of his past. He's going to be reminded of it every time he turns a corner and finds more blight to try and soothe, and even the moments that he rests will be filled with more manifestations of his regret. He says it himself: where he's going? It's terrible.

Enter Lavellan. Yeah, he couldn't bring himself to listen to her at her first plea (but like damn how many times are we going to have to watch her give a heartfelt speech only for him to be like 'something something beautiful elven rejection'). But I know that you know that our clever icon knows better than to take what Solas says at face value. She tells Rook plainly that he's absolute dogshit at lies of the heart, and she says it with her whole chest.

Lavellan sees the way his shoulders slump (in resignation yes, but you can't convince me there's not a little bit of relief there, too), she hears the agony in the "vhenan" that escapes his lips (which, don't even get me started on the fact that it's been like nine years and he has no hesitation at all calling her his heart, it just spills out of him). It is not the sound of a man delighting in the steps he's about to take. They're certainly not steps he does not dislike that lead to a destination he enjoys.

And then she watches Mythal (who I can't imagine she feels any sort of fondness or respect for) pull some weird nonsense on her love one final time, and she knows it's her moment to shine.

Mythal, I would argue, pushes Solas down one more time, shames him into seeking atonement, into once again being alone.

It is the romanced Lavellan that kneels so that he cannot fail to meet her eyes. It is she who invokes their connection, not to remind him of his failures but to reaffirm his greatest strength: their love and their love alone is inevitable. Not the consequences of his past, not the regret he thinks will consume him as he seeks to mend what has been broken. It has only ever been them.

"There is no fate but the love we share". We are forever tied together.

"There is no fate but the love we share." *I* am releasing you from everything else save for this love.

Put colloquially: get absolutely fucking wrecked, Mythal.

Body language comparison to chase up the dialogue one, anyone? The way Solas shrinks before Mythal as opposed to him walking off into the fade with Lavellan at his side and standing tall, and he does not flinch when she lifts a hand to his shoulder?

Ultimately, Mythal is a part of the atonement endings no matter what. But it is only Lavellan that refuses to let him walk alone. It is only Lavellan that guarantees that his dinan'shiral ends not in a prison of regret, but a place of promise.

Mythal bends Solas until he breaks one last time. Lavellan takes each piece, claims it as hers, and uses them to build the beginnings of a future.

[sixerstanley]

Sealed With a Kiss - Teen Stancest ficlet

Hey all! I'm here with a bit of an appetizer, if you will, for a fic I've been thinking about for a while. The stans are 16/17 in this. Hope you enjoy! Please let me know what you think as I still have to work on the entire fic.

After Carla criticizes Stan's kissing, Ford offers to help him practice.

~~~~~~

“Ya sure ya still wanna do this, Sixer?”

Truthfully, Ford feels like he’s about to pass out—either that or puke. He isn’t used to this, isn’t used to sitting so close to Stan, not like this—not with him on Stan’s bottom bunk sitting cross-legged and Stan inches apart, their feet touching, and Moses, Ford can feel Stan’s breaths as he glances at his lips—

“Ford?”

He drags his gaze from Stan’s lips, back up to his eyes. They’re blown wide with…something, but Ford can’t exactly tell what.

“Uh…s-sorry,” he stumbles out, trying to shake himself out of it. “We can—we can still—”

A hand touches him gently, stopping the words from coming out of his mouth. Ford looks down at Stan’s hand intertwining with his own.

They fit perfectly, like they always did.

“Hey,” Stan says, voice quiet and serious, which is a bit odd to hear from him. “If you’re having second thoughts—”

“No,” Ford blurts out immediately. Stan's eyes grow a bit wider and he realizes his mistake, feeling his face burn up. 

“Uh…I just mean…” he trails off before taking a deep breath. He looks directly back at Stan with a newfound determination. 

“It’ll be a good thing for both of us. We can practice with each other and get ready for the real thing.”

Stan stares at him for a moment, Ford watching his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows.

It’s hypnotizing.

Then Stan is nodding. “Yeah. Sure, yeah. That makes a lotta sense.” He glances down at Ford’s lips for a split second, and Ford is really starting to question if he’s going to be able to do this without blowing his cover. “But to be fair, it’s not like I ain’t got the experience,” Stan says lowly, a teasing tilt to it.

Ford rolls his eyes. “Sure, but Carla still complained about it.”

“Hey. Watch it. At least I don’t need a robot.”

“You said you weren’t going to bring that up.”

“I say a lot of things.”

“Hey,” Ford starts, a significant weight to his words. “Are you sure you still want to do this? We don’t have to.”

Stan swallows again glancing down at Ford’s lips briefly. He tries not to stare at his throat again.

He fails.

“Nah,” Stan eventually drawls, although there’s an unusual bit of shakiness to it. “Like ya said, this will only make us better at it, y’know? It was a good idea of yours.”

An idea I had with no ulterior motives whatsoever, a small voice inside Ford’s head says. He internally tells it to shut up.

There’s a moment of silence before Stan leans in closer to Ford’s space. He feels his heartbeat start to increase like crazy, and he attempts to steady his breath. 

Stan places both of his hands on either side of Ford on the bed, crowding him. 

This is how I die. A heart attack from kissing my own twin brother.

“C’mon, Poindexter,” Stan murmurs, his voice soft and barely louder than a whisper. It sends shivers down Ford’s spine. “Show me what ya got.”

Now it’s Ford’s turn to swallow. 

He inhales deeply before he moves his shaky hands towards Stan’s face, cradling his jaw with his fingers at the back of his head.

He tries not to think about how good this feels so far even though they haven’t even started, tries not to think about how right it feels to be touching Stan like this, but it’s wrong, he shouldn’t feel like this, he shouldn’t feel this way about his own brother, he’s nothing but a disgusting little freak—

“Hey,” Stan’s voice interrupts the foggy cloud of thoughts in his head. It’s soothing, and calming in a comforting, familiar way. 

“Hey, hey,” Stan says again, moving one of his hands to Ford’s side, holding him. Ford tries not to jump at the sudden touch. “Relax,” Stan croons, lifting his other hand to Ford’s cheek.

And it really should be bad how grounding that is. How, at this moment, it truly feels like it’s just the two of them in the entire world.

“Relax,” Stan whispers this time, stroking Ford’s cheek with his thumb, and what can he possibly do other than positively melt under his touch?

He gazes directly into Stan’s dark eyes, and immediately, Ford knows this is it. This is the last moment he has to back out, to say no to this, and call it off without any permanent damage. 

This is the last moment he has before he finds out how Stanley kisses.

Every rational part of his mind is screaming at him, telling him to turn back now, but he realizes this could be his only chance to kiss the person he’s been in love with his entire life.

Any last bit of his resolve absolutely crumbles when Stan licks his lips, making them shiny and wet, and Ford leans in, finally pressing his lips to Stan’s.

He’s hesitant at first, not too sure what to do, but then Stan’s arms fully wrap around him, around his body, and his lips part a little bit and oh.

Ford can’t even bring it within himself to feel embarrassed about the small little whine that escapes him when Stan’s tongue swipes over his bottom lip, he needs more, he needs more, he needs Stan—

Their bodies draw closer together than ever, and Stan starts to press his weight against Ford as he lays down on the bed and just lets himself be kissed by his brother. 

This is wrong. We shouldn’t be doing this, a small voice in Ford’s head says.

But he doesn’t care. He doesn’t fucking care—he’s laying down with Stan’s sturdy body on top of him, and Ford does not care about right or wrong at this moment.

All he cares about is making sure that this never ends.

Ford opens up more for Stan, deciding to mimic the move he made earlier, a giddy feeling rising within him when he hears Stan groan in return. He wants to keep doing that, keep drawing noises out of Stan that he’d only been able to fantasize about before this.

Now that he has the real thing, he’ll never want to let go.

And that’s the real danger of it all, isn’t it? That this is supposed to be nothing but practice. Something to help the both of them when it comes to other people.

It would be selfish of him to keep these pseudo-lessons going. Stan is with Carla, and even if they break up, Stan is going to find someone else, because he always does, he’s Stan.

It would be wrong to continue this purely because of his own desires. 

Stan pulls apart from him, both of them breathing heavily. He looks down at Ford, hovering over him, and wow having Stan on top of him is going to fuel his dreams for decades to come.

“Was that…was that okay?” Stan asks, gently petting Ford’s hair with one hand, looking down at his lips again.

He should say something. He should stop this.

He needs to stop this.

But looking up at Stan like this, with his eyes blown wide open with what he can pretend is desire…Ford thinks he can be a little selfish. 

At least for a little while.

He’ll let himself have this for a bit, let himself know how Stan feels against him, how he tastes, how he sounds when he’s overwhelmed by pleasure.

Ford will memorize it if he has to. He knows he will. 

After all, Stan is going to end up with someone else. Someone who isn’t him.

Shouldn’t he be able to enjoy himself while it lasts?

“Sixer?”

Ford raises a hand to Stan’s face, cusping it gently. 

“I think we need a bit more practice.”

[emberunderscore]

guys im going crazy with the edits over here (im sure this has been done with this song before but idc i wanted to)

also guys im going to include the rambling in the actual edit post this time because i actually cannot contain myself . (i went on and on for this one i had a lot of thoughts )

OK BIG ONE COOL ONE WHEN IT SAYS "I'm a worthless human being" there is an overlay during the word "worthless" of the prison scene and the word worthless is layed over sherbert's forehead, think of it like the word worthless and failure going hand in hand because icarus doesn't belive they are worth anything if they are not useful and they cannot be useful if theyre a failure which they wholeheartedly believe they are THATS IT THATS MY FAVORITE PART OF THIS EDIT (not really but shshshshs)

ok back to being in order

"I had left you" and "I forgave you" being right next to each other is SO PERFECT because that part is referencing the cave obviously and immediately after centross dies icarus is like 'get the fuck away from me why did you do that, holy shit you were gonna kill me' and then he tells them he can bring centross back and they immediately forgive him (and its not rlly great editing wise cause obviously theres not much contrast between the clips but the sacrifices we make are very small)

"I forgot you" this line is kinda hard to understand how ive coded it cause centross is on the screen so it kinda makes it seems like im saying they forgot centross but NO! they forgot about fable, they were so focused on bringing centross back that they completely lost sight of fable and his actions and how that hurt everyone around them

then the "said you loved me" I LOVE PUTTING VOICELINES IN EDITS CHAT. I LOVE IT SO MUCH AHHHH. i love when the words and they go together and theyre similar and i go crazy . im knawing at the bars of my enclosure

(i was going to put a voicline of fable's 'you will not survive' from cathedral of war in this part, but only chose not too cause it made the audio too chaotic but its still the clip from when he said that so just KNOW) i really love the "said you'd kill me" part. it just looks really cool to me, please appreciate my work thank you goodnight <3

THE WHOLE NEXT PART. THE BEAT DROP IF YOU WILL.

the text is all shaky, the way ive always imagined this part of the song in my brain is like full mental breakdown, hands pulling at hair hitting at your head . theres something inside of you and you want it OUT and you will hurt yourself to makes that happen . so thats kind of the vibe i wanted to portray, however . im not that skilled and capcut only has so many free text effects so . we make do. i also couldn't put that effect on all the text because for it to look right i couldn't use an 'in' animation for the text so having all of it just appear looked kind of weird so i had to comprimise a little

also the font is called "honest" which . if you know me i love putting subliminal messaging in my font usage when i can which i managed to do a couple times in this edit actually. the font is very jagged which fits for the idea of someone who's reaching their breaking point and all the rotation and bold and italics are all just thrown around there. making em all look interesting . for *flavour*

the other font that's got a cool title and this one i actually only picked because of the title and that's "innocent" its used in a lot of frames like "you possessed me", "you controlled me" and "or he'll hurt me" all times, the word 'me' uses the innocent font, because with the song it sounds like icarus is trying to remove any of the blame from themself, it was fable's fault because he manipulated me i didn't do anything wrong. so they see themself as 'innocent' which is also why that text is yellow cause its about icarus. i wouldn't have used that font if not for the title icl. but it also makes the times when that font isn't used all the more interesting, this can be seen most notably in "said you'd kill me", and both of the times in the "he's still speaking, speaking for me" parts , and i will let you cook on that cause not everything needs to be explained in great detail as much as id like to do that

most of the fonts at this one were just me throwing shit at a wall and seeing what fit the vibe ill be so fr, i knew i wanted a lot of variation cause its a chaotic sounding song and the colours also have very little thought when it comes to the difference between white/yellow/red for the most part . green is for fable and purple is just whatever the fuck i felt like .

final thing i'm going to say when it goes "i'm a [worthless human being" there is no text on that part and i just want it to be known on the record that it wasn't an accident and it was an aethetic choice and i can't come up with a bullshit important reason for why there's no text on the screen for that SINGLE PART and honestly it just looked so shit with text there but it also looks so out of place with it being the only part but im sure many of you didn't even notice there wasnt text there before i pointed it out so . i can also point out all the slightly off timings for you if you wanna see my creation through my critical self-loathing eyes /silly

[silverynight]

Tempting

Viktor gets startled when he hears rushed footsteps in the hallway, he doesn't even have the opportunity to turn around before someone runs inside and puts his broad arms around him. There's only one person who likes to do that, so Viktor relaxes immediately.

"I thought you were going to be back next month."

"I missed you, Viktor," Jayce whispers in his ear, instead of answering the question.

He tries to turn around on his seat to face him, but his partner refuses to let go of him.

"Jayce, let me see you." Viktor has learned that he responds better to words. Even thought he's not used to tell or ask people what he wants from them, this is the only thing that seems to work with his friend.

Jayce finally steps back, albeit reluctantly, so Viktor can turn around and see him. It looks like he came straight to the lab as soon as the ship arrived because he's tired, hungry, hasn't rested properly in days and it's written all over his face.

But there's something different about him. Before he can think about what he's going to do, Viktor's hands cup Jayce's face; he starts stroking the other man's beard with his thumbs. He's not sure why, but he finds the sensation pleasant and soothing.

It doesn't occur to him that what he's doing might be weird until he notices that Jayce is slightly bent towards him, but completely still. He looks like he's in shock.

"You're touching me," he blurts out, still surprised.

"I am," Viktor says back, realizing just then that he had never initiated physical contact with Jayce, in fact, he has never touched him on his own before. "I'm sorry."

Before he can take his hands off his friend's face, the other man grabs them and presses them a bit harder against his cheeks.

"No, it's fine!" Jayce assures him, looking a bit desperate for a moment. "You can touch me as much as you want."

"Thank you, but we can't stay like this all day."

"Why not?"

Viktor chuckles at that, noticing that he's in a good mood now; he was feeling down last week and he's beginning to think it was because Jayce wasn't at his side.

"I have a lot of things I need to show you," he says instead, trying not to smile when he notices Jayce's pout.

"So you like it?"

"What?"

"The beard."

"Yes, I think you look good with it," he says absentmindedly, turning around to check his notes again.

It never occurs to him, even as a few days pass, that Jayce's choice of keeping the beard might have something to do with him.

Because it doesn't make sense.

But he does notice that he touches Jayce often now, especially when he leans over Viktor's shoulder to comment on something they're working on, and his face is right next to his. It's really easy to lift his hand and place it on his cheek and stroke his chin just to feel the facial hair there so Viktor does that; it quickly turns into a habit that he does without thinking.

Jayce doesn't seem to mind, in fact, he looks a lot pleased with himself now. Viktor is not sure why he's so smug about something like that.

However, after a while, Jayce starts getting strange ideas.

"You should kiss me."

Viktor drops the screwdriver in his hand before turning around to face his friend.

"What?"

"To feel this against your face," Jayce says, pointing at his beard. "Aren't you curious?"

"I wasn't..." But now he is, unfortunately. "I don't see why kissing you would be the best way to try that."

"It is, trust me," Jayce assures him, leaning dangerously close to him.

Even though the mere thought of his partner being attracted to him is ridiculous, the excuse he just used is so stupid that Viktor has no other choice but to consider the first option.

It's a difficult choice; this will probably change everything between them, and they have to keep working together.

But Viktor's rational inner voice is not that loud that particular night; the temptation to feel Jayce's face against his is stronger than anything else.

Without a warning, Viktor gives him a quick kiss on the lips, the rough sensation of the beard against his smooth skin makes him giggle.

"Well, that was–"

"Not enough," Jayce cuts him off before pulling him into his arms to give him a proper kiss.

The idea of Jayce liking him makes so much sense now that Viktor can feel his partner's hungry lips moving against his.

But he's not going to complain about that.

At some point, they have to breathe, but Jayce decides to press more kisses against his jaw and neck. The beard rubbing on his skin sends shivers down his spine each time.

"Let's go to my room," he almost growls, desperate. "Come on, Viktor."

"Wait... we should think about this first. We have a project together."

"It's okay, Viktor," Jayce cups his face before pressing their foreheads together. "We can be life partners too. We'll make it work. Trust me."

Viktor does. He has always trusted him.

"Alright. Let's give this life partnership a try."

[holy3cake]

WIP Wednesday!

Another week, another tag game! Please share your last sentence; or, if you don’t have one, share a plot bunny or idea! (OR sketch for your artwork!)

Thank you for the tag my lovely @lancedoncrimsonwings!!

Okay so we're still on Chapter 15 of In his Father's footsteps, my TLK Aethelbert TLK fic! I'm getting there, about 2000 words in so I need to keep going lol! Here's Eadgyth stirring the pot again:

“I came to fetch my horse. I’m leaving.” Eadgyth sniffled, shuffling to the stall opposite him. Osbert’s frown deepened, and he detached from his mare. Dróttning trotted moodily, but Osbert was not deterred by her warning stamp. Instead, he walked over to the stall and watched Eadgyth groom her horse. It was a beautiful Halflinger, and Osbert was surprised that he hadn’t noticed the creature yet. Its elegant mane had been styled perfectly, the golden strands reminding him of Bebbanburg beach. The horse nuzzled against Eadgyth, gentle temperament calming her frayed nerves. Even though it couldn’t quite smile, the horse was radiating a joyful aura, and Osbert was shocked that someone else seemed to have such an intimate relationship with their loyal friend. Perhaps it was that connection that allowed him to reach out, to stop her from leaving in such haste.  “You’re leaving? Why?” Osbert asked, leaning against the stall.  “It’s clear that Aethelstan doesn’t want me here! I have brought him misery.” Eadgyth’s sadness evaporated, her previous solemn mood replaced by anger.  “I am sure that is not true. Did he tell you that?” Osbert felt the divot in his eyebrows continue to grow. Why would Aethelstan be so cruel to his own sister?  “No. But he dismissed me! He is acting cold with me. I do not know what I have done wrong.” Eadgyth stroked her horse, leaning against him. Osbert opened the wooden gate, joining her side as she eyed him curiously.  “Perhaps he is in shock to see you. It has been a long time, Eadgyth.” Osbert reminded her.  “I know. But…I thought he would be happy. I missed him dearly…” She looked up at Osbert, the pain and despair clear in her eyes. It was her sullen expression that struck Osbert’s heart, and he had a brief recollection of something Hild had once told him. He was hopeless when it came to sad people, like a hunter to a hog. Despite only knowing Eadgyth for about ten minutes, he wrapped his arms around her and gave her a friendly hug. Her tiny hands reciprocated immediately, and he smiled softly against her back.  “Give him time. I will speak to him, he is not an unreasonable man.” Osbert spoke against her cape, feeling her hands bunch in his shirt.  “You know him well then?” Eadgyth murmured back, sounding hopeful and curious.  “W-Well. Yes, I suppose.” Osbert almost choked, forgetting himself for a moment. Did he know the King well? Did it count if he knew what Aethelstan tasted like when he came? Or what glorious moans he made in the throes of passion? Osbert was alarmed for a moment, suddenly struck with a realisation.  Am I just a lover to the King? Does Aethelstan favour me for my body, but not my mind?

I also did a moodboard for my OC Turketyl, he is mentioned a few chapters prior! My little murder priest ehehehe. In case you ever wondered, this is what Turketyl looks like:

No pressure tags: @grinningkatz @lord-aldhelm @paula-in-dreamland @book-and-music-lover @synintheraven

@errruvande @persephones-journey @waterfallsilverberrywrites @thenameswinter99 @bilbotargaryen

@whitedarkmoonflower @thelettersfromnoone

[annaphoenix1994]

Everlasting Lover

Previous Chapter - Masterlist - Next Chapter

»»-------¤-------««

The drive back to Kiera's house was quiet. Lawson was the only one sober enough to get us back safely. If it were up to me, I would've driven, but I wasn't confident in getting everyone back in one piece as I truly had no idea where the fuck I'd be going. 

Roughly a half-hour later, the truck began rumbling as it transitioned onto the gravel driveway leading to the ranch, the lights from the main lodge catching my attention. I still yet waited to meet her parents, but that was a terrifying thought to me because by what Kiera had told me, her father was a hard man to please. 

Lawson parked the truck outside Kiera's house, tossing the keys to me as we helped Kiera get out of the passenger seat. She slung her purse over her shoulder as it was clear she was tipsy, but still aware of her surroundings. "Thanks, kid," she said to Lawson, taking the keys from me and putting them in her purse. "I may need to head out somewhere." She said to him, referring to making a sudden trip. 

"Not tonight, you're not." 

"Sun-fucker!" 

"What?" 

"You heard what I said." 

"You're right, I heard what you said, but I don't understand what the fuck that means." 

"Fun-sucker," She corrected, removing her vape pen from her Carhartt shirt pocket, taking a long drag. "That's what I meant to say." 

I shook my head with a smirk at her slurring speech, "Fucking hell, let's get you inside." 

"I know where I'm going." She said, nearly stumbling on one of the larger gravels in her driveway. 

"You sure about that?" I chuckled. "You're about to fall over, love." 

"Nope. Got two feet under me." 

"Two left feet." 

Both Lawson and Frankie began laughing, "Well, just make sure she doesn't kill herself. We're gonna head back down to the bunkhouse." 

"I can hear you, asshat." Kiera scoffed at her cousin, taking another long drag from the vape pen, embracing the feeling of an incoming nicotine high. It wasn't a good combination: liquor, beer, an empty stomach, and nicotine with an ounce of adrenaline. "I'm sorry, Simon. I just have a headache. I drank too much." 

"You're not telling me anything new," I smirked. "I'm sure it took the edge off. Now you can sleep it off." 

"Aye, Captain." 

"Lieutenant." 

"Right, sorry. I guess you're still in military mode." 

"I never come out of it, Officer." I replied, knowing she didn't like to be acknowledged as an officer unless she was on duty, just like I didn't like to be called anything other than Lieutenant when it came to titles. 

She rolled her eyes playfully, pulling out her keys from her purse to unlock the front door, snickering as she felt along the wall for the light switch as the faint blue light from her vape pen engaging with another puff gave her enough light to see where she was putting her hand. "Okay, I'm going to bed." 

"I was hoping you would," I shook my head. "Do you need anything?" 

"A million fuckin' bucks and another vape." 

"Give me that," I said, watching her take another drag from it. "That's the fifth time in two minutes you've taken a drag off of that bloody thing. Give it a rest." 

"You referred to it as a pacifier," She scoffed, frowning as I took it from her grasp. "I need it."

"What you need is to go to bed. Sleep off all that liquor that you clearly can't take." I poked, loving her reaction, especially when she arched her brows at me as if I offended her. Fuck, she was so cute. 

"I beg your damn pardon?" 

"You heard that, didn't you?" 

"Loud and fucking clear, Lieutenant. I can handle my liquor." 

"Yeah, it shows." 

"I can't with you." 

"No, you can't, that's why you're going to bed." 

"Oh, I can, I'll go get more right now if it means proving a point." 

"I'll pour it out." 

"You wouldn't dare." 

I raised his brows at her. In truth, I didn't know where she kept the whiskey, but I knew I could easily toy with her in this state, and I was taking advantage of it. I liked winding her up. It was a release for me as I couldn't recall thinking about anything military-wise while poking at her. "You clearly don't know me, then." 

"And you clearly don't know me." 

"You're right, I don't, but what I do know is that you can't handle your liquor. What happened to Adderall when I asked you back at the base why you could drink a lot and not seem drunk?"

She scoffed, "Such a jackass. And I'm out." 

"You're going to take the biscuit, love." 

"Who the fuck started talking about biscuits?" She furrowed her brows and opened her arms. 

"It means you're starting to push your luck, darling." 

"Well, now I'm hungry for biscuits." 

"Go to bed," I breathed a laugh. "I'll go get you a water." 

"Aren't you a gentleman." 

"Don't get used to it." I poked, although I was lying. I wanted her to get used to me taking care of her, because I could see myself tending to her for the rest of my life. I wanted this, yet I felt stupid because I was thinking about these things way too early. 

How does that saying go? When you know, you know? Or something like that?

I watched her walk towards her bedroom, leaving the door open as she set down her purse before turning the corner that led to her bathroom. I then searched the kitchen for a bottle of water, finding one in the fridge before hearing gagging sounds. Bloody fucking hell. 

I walked into her bedroom, which was definitely uncharted territory for me, but I didn't care. She sat on the wood floor of her bathroom, hunched over the toilet as the night's activities took their toll on her. "Least you waited until you got home." I commented, daring to step in and take a seat on the side of her bathtub. 

"Yeah, I'm just trained to throw up on command." She scoffed, and I could see that she was fighting the urge to throw up again. The smell was sour and mostly liquid - looking more like stomach bile. 

"Rough combination, love, but I'll have to give it to you - you took it like a bloke."

"Simon, speak fucking English." She sighed. 

I chuckled, shaking my head, "Sorry, let me translate for you: you took it like a champ. That better?" I asked, standing up to then get a cloth from the closet before dampening it in the sink and offering it to her.

"No, because I hate feeling like this." 

"Then don't try to have a drink-off with some stranger at a bar with whiskey after you've already had four glasses and a cocktail. It'll fuck you up every time." 

"If anyone took it like a champ, it's you. You haven't shown one sign of being drunk." 

"Because I know when to stop myself." I replied, making the move to pull her hair behind her shoulders, holding it for her before she regurgitated again, seeing it coming far before she even felt it.

"You don't have to be here at my whim. It's my fault. I don't want you to see me like this-"

"Let it all out. You'll feel better." I said, ignoring her statement. 

I wanted to be there. 

She relaxed after the next round of unmerciful bile, sitting down completely on the floor as she reached up to flush the empty remains of her stomach. I moved to sit on the edge of the bathtub, watching her skin flush to white. I then handed her another cloth, watching her press it against her forehead. "Thanks." 

"Don't mention it. Here," I added, picking up the water bottle from the floor. "Don't drink it too fast or you'll be here all night." 

"Thanks for the tip." 

I breathed a chuckle, keeping my gaze on her as she looked to be searching for something. "What're you looking for?" 

"My nic-stick." 

"What in the bloody hell is that?" 

"You'd call it a Ciggie." She retorted, using my British slang against me by mocking a British accent.

I then patted the pocket of my jeans, "I don't think so. You're cut off." 

She scoffed, "It's mine. I paid for it." 

"You sure are paying the price for it right now, huh?" 

"God, I can't stand you." 

"You can't. That's why you're sitting." 

"Simon, I swear to God, if you don't shut up, I'll hit you right where it hurts." She warned, shaking her head as she noticed that I was sitting with my knees apart as it was a comfortable position for me. Manspreading, is the common term for it, but it was just comfortable. 

"Big words," I mocked, standing to my feet and offering my hand to her. She hesitated before grabbing it. "Let's go to bed." 

She tilted her head, "Wait, are-are you insinuating on going to bed with...me?" 

"I meant it as in getting you to bed."  

"Oh, well, I mean, if you wanted to, I got a nice King-sized bed in there..." She trailed off in a goofy tone, looking around playfully as if she were asking, but not asking directly. 

"I'll keep you up." I replied, not giving her a direct answer, hoping my warning of keeping her awake was enough. I wanted nothing more than to wrap my body around hers, to hold her throughout the night while I was her primary source of warmth while resting my nose against her head. God, I wanted that so bad. 

"I doubt that. I sleep like a rock." 

"Rocks don't sleep?" 

"It's a metaphor, Simon. Christ." 

"You still didn't answer my question." She cocked her head at me. 

"I don't know. I- you'll be awake all night." 

"Yes or no, Simon. Thought you were simpler than that." 

Take your fucking shot, Simon. Take it. Embrace her and protect her from her dreams. All you'll be doing is sleeping. There's no harm in that.

"Are you sure that's what you want?" 

A brief pause. 

"Yes." 

"I'll meet you there." I said, ensuring she made it back into the bedroom before I did, watching her sit on the bed as I walked by, sure that the smell of my cologne lingering in the room. 

When I returned in a change of clothes, she played on her phone, the TikTok app being her kryptonite as it distracted her from her brief sickness. She giggled at one of the many funny videos, watching me walk around the bed and sit on the edge. "Now you're hyper." I commented. 

"No. I feel better, though, but my head hurts. Now's the time to hand me back my nic-stick."

"Not a chance. You're cut off."

She rolled her eyes playfully before setting her phone aside and turning off the lamp, leaving us in complete darkness. "Good-damn-night." 

The bed rumbled from the chuckle that was stuck in my throat. I hoped that she was seeing that I was beginning to open up to her, and I hoped that she saw that I was only poking and prodding at her just to get a reaction, not to piss her off. 

I lay as stiff as a board on the bed, one arm draped over my stomach and the other folded behind my bed, my body laying over the comforter, listening to her steady breathing as she was slowly falling asleep. I knew I wouldn't fall asleep any time soon, and I was glad that I managed to bring her iPod along with me to drown out the silence. I looked over at her, reassuring myself that she was comfortable and breathing before sifting through her playlists. Living on the Sand by Colter Wall playing through the headphones I had found in the drawer of my loaned room. I then looked up at the ceiling, listening to each lyric as I imagined the song was about me. 

♪Keep that gun locked away, locked away, boy; Well, you know you're an angry young man; Going in town with six rounds you're sure to be Hell-bound; That house you've got is built on the sand...♪

I then began to wonder where Kiera's mind would go when she listened to this type of music, wondering how her energy matched with the genre. Perhaps it was the heavy strums of Colter's guitar, or Tyler Childers' raspy Appalachian voice, or Whiskey Myers' guttural lyrics - I liked it all, but it all held a darkness to it that held a lot of meaning and emotion. 

As the song ended, I kept his gaze on the rotating ceiling fan as a soft strum of a guitar played on the next song - Everlasting Lover by 49 Winchester began playing. I haven't heard the song before, but I certainly was going to listen to it. 

It enticed me as much as she did. 

♪Everlasting lover; Oh, how I owe you my gratitude; You were the first to make me feel like I ain't just some dude; Everlasting lover, baby, you've got the kindest eyes; And when mine are red and I look half dead you can't even realize; When I get stoned and feel rejected; weary from the road and half beaten down; you come off of your throne and I feel protected; Oh, and even from the bottom of the bottle I know you won't let me drown...♪

[countrymusiclover]

5 - Finding my way back

Part 6

Detective Stabler’s Daughter

Hi y'all here's a long awaited update for this story. I'm not sure what should happen next so I am urging you my readers to send in story ideas

Tag list - send an ask to be added @person-005 @kmc1989 @littlestarsfw @kittycatcait219 @hiireadstuff

The next time I blinked my eyes opened I saw that I was in a dark bedroom. There was no windows in the room from what I could tell when I looked around trying to find a way out of here.  I attempted to sit up on whatever mattress I was laying on but my arms gets yanked backwards. "Gah!" I winced looking over my shoulder as much as I was able to seeing that my wrists were restrained by thick ropes.

I heard footsteps coming closer to the locked door that was in the corner of this room I was apparently trapped inside. "Good, you're awake. I was beginning to worry I had hit you too hard before we can have any fun."

"Who the hell are you. I have nothing against you and I haven't ever done something to make you want me to cause harm to me." I asked the stranger squinting in an attempt to see who my ubdupter was.

The stranger flipped on a lamp switch showing me a woman who had tan skin and long black hair.  "My name is Angela Wheatley.  My husband was Richard Wheatley."

"I don't know who that is.  I don't even know who you are, lady."

She grabbed me by my chin with one of her hands. "I helped your father buy food for your youngest brother El.  I know you have five other siblings but you're the only one who's interested in the field your father works in."

"You took me to get to my father?"

She nodded, releasing her grip. "Your mother isn't right for him.  He deserves to suffer for what he did to my son.  He killed my son."

"So you think taking me will make him fall for you.  That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard."

She climbed on the bed, slapping me across the face.  Bending my head down I noticed a key in her other hand while she was hovering over my body. "You better watch what you say to me."

"You won't keep me trapped here." I paused briefly before kicking her in between her legs where she collapsed onto the ground in agonizing pain.  She spit out the key and I was somehow able to catch it in my mouth.  Shifting my body around as much as I was physically allowed where I could put the key inside the handcuff lock until one of them fell off.  Undoing the other one cuff I held my aching wrist hearing her groan starting to get up from the floor.

I snatched the handgun that she had laid on the table beside me. Frantically looking around the room I saw a set of stairs where I began running up them. Yet when I almost got away she grabbed me by the back of my hair, yanking me down to the ground. "I have been nothing but nice to you and this is how you treat me!" The woman held the knife to my throat.  She moved one hand around my throat, choking me a little.

"My father will never be with someone like you" I grunted trying to kick her again but she cut me across the stomach with the blade. I winced when she held the blade against my throat again.

She removed the blade off of my throat giving me the chance to breathe. She turned her back to me so I snatched the gun hitting her in the leg when I slowly pulled the trigger making me jump at the sound. "You little bitch!" She held her bleeding leg stumbling toward me where we got in a fight on the floor trying to either hold onto or grab the weapon. She got close to getting it from me but I kicked her in the rib and hit her over the head with the gun. Scrambling to my feet I gulped gripping the gun and pushing my way through the door.

Getting outside I saw the truck in the driveway, scrambling into the driver seat with the door unlocked.  I grunted seeing blood on my forehead in the mirror. Finding the keys in the engine I grunted driving off, not sure where I was heading. Touching the screen in the car I typed into maps the nearest hospital. "Please...please stay awake." I struggled to keep my eyes open driving as fast as possible but when I got on the interstate ramp my eyes fell heavily and I turned the car towards the wall and stopped blacking out.

I could hear a monitor blinking in the background by the time I had begun to wake up.  I slowly opened my eyes but shut them when there was a bright light in my eyes. "Ugh.....Where am I?" I whispered to myself feeling very tired but had very little pain at the moment meaning I must be at the hospital and receiving pain meds.

"Y/n!" I winced hearing someone cheer my name and whoever it was flung their arms around my neck hugging me tightly.

I froze for a second before I could register that it was my sister Kathleen. "K-Kathleen." Wrapping my arms around her neck she sniffed into my hair.

"I can't believe you're here. I knew something was wrong when you were avoiding my messages." She chuckled through happy tears.

Shifting my body weight up higher on the pillow I winced while holding my head and it had to be after I hit my head on the steering wheel of the truck. "Yeah I'd never leave you unread. Hey uh...could you get me some ice for my head?"

"Yeah of course." She scrambled off the bed and quickly left the room.

Shutting my eyes I sighed, laying my head back further against the pillows. Dropping my hands down into my lap I felt someone watching me from the doorway. "Whoever is staring at me I'd suggest you say something before I start crying for help because there's a stranger in my room."

"Uh sorry, Y/n. I just..." Turning my head in the direction of the voice a smile graced my face seeing Spencer standing in the doorway. His curly hair was a tousled mess and his clothes were slightly messy. I also could see some bags underneath his eyes meaning the search for me had taken a hit on him. "For the first time in my life I think I'm at a loss for words."

Sniffing through happy tears I wanted nothing more than to jump into his arms. "Spencer....ah!" I winced trying to get out of the bed but I felt a pain in my thigh making me remain there.

"Y/n..." He crossed the room so quickly I didn't have the chance to blink. He gently but firmly wrapped his arms around my waist bringing me against his chest.

Moving my fingers up his chest I threaded my fingers through the fabric of his shirt. Feeling tears piling down my face I buried my face into his chest sobbing heavily. "Spence..."

"I should have stayed with you that night." He mumbled through some tears of his own.

Shaking my head no, I knew he would start blaming himself for what happened to me. "Don't do that, Spence."

"But if I had just stayed." He attempted again.

Breaking the hug slightly I held onto his shoulders staring into his brown eyes. "Spencer, this is not your fault. You couldn't have predicted someone would come looking for me."

"I just wish it didn't happen to you.." He admitted lowering his gaze from mine briefly.

Running one hand through his I sent him a half smile. "You found me, you'll always find me.  Just like Prince Charming finds Snow White. That's all that matters."

"I did, didn't I? Even though I don't entirely understand the reference." Spencer says back to me before I flung my arms around his neck, he wrapped his arms around my waist kissing my forehead until someone else's voice entered the room.

"Y/n!"

"Daddy!" Barely pulling my head away from his chest with heavy tears I saw my father standing in the doorway, relieved but terrified that the woman who took me might try a second time.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

[disgruntledkittenface]

Hi Maggie! I have a question (or few lol) on your personal opinion/experience, if you're willing to share. I have been reading fic for...a very long time lol but I have never read any abo. Based on some self-reflection I think it's that I just don't know how it works so I think I won't understand the fic or will miss important nuances. But I just read the description of your accidental courting fic and it sounds super cute! And I'm reminded of all the times I've read a fic description and was interested, then realized it was abo so I didn't read it (which feels so embarrassing to say!). I know my apprehension is likely keeping me from experiencing something I might really enjoy. And so my question is, what about abo fics do you think you cannot find in other fics? Or put another way, what do you like about abo fics in general? Also how did you get into writing them?

hiii anon! First, thank you for saying that the accidental courting au sounds cute! (I think it is, but I wrote it lol) And it's fun to get an opportunity to talk about this trope, which I'm going to refer to as omegaverse, I'm glad you asked <3

I'm going to link a primer that @allwaswell16 wrote because it covers the basics really well and includes links for further reading. That said, the trope can get very subjective and there are still things I don't understand fully. Like it gets a little hazy when I think about scenting glands, and I hope @crinkle-eyed-boo won't mind me saying so, but neither of can actually visually a nest. So I get your apprehension, but I don't think you need to know all the details to enjoy the trope.

The thing about omegaverse is that sometimes it can feel like a way to make a gay couple straight. When I get that vibe from a fic, I just close the tab. But I was talking about this with @lululawrence years ago, and she was explaining that there are writers who use omegaverse to explore dynamics similar to men/women because that lets them do it at a little bit of a distance. And I understand that – as a writer, sometimes I want to explore something with a female character because I identify as female, and sometimes I don't. Sometimes I want that distance.

I think what appeals to me about omegaverse is that it's kind of primal. Sometimes I'm in the mood for instincts to just take over! It's kind of like a soulmate au in that way, almost like an external force guiding two characters if that makes sense.

I hope this isn't obnoxious but since we're talking, I decided to just go through each omegaverse fic I've written (only 6!)

For a long time, I didn't plan on writing omegaverse. But then I saw a few prompts for a fest that were clearly submitted by the same person, and it was just so sweet because they all ended with "please." The one I picked said "A soft Narry where Harry is alpha and Niall is omega, please." so I got to anything I wanted with it. I thought about doing something with Niall modeling Omega watches because I thought that was hilarious, but there was something at the back of my head telling me this Harry would be ace. So I decided to explore that a bit and I centered it around touch deprivation because sometimes I feel a little touch deprived. a little tenderness

Then for some reason, I got really into the idea of an alpha building a nest for their omega. And I had this little snippet of a scene in my head with one partner saying "you've been so sad lately" and the other one not wanting to admit why, but they already know. So those two ideas kind of morphed, and then I wrote a couple of other scenes that just like INTRIGUED me so I could get them out of my head. with love on the line

I saw a prompt about accidental courting, and then decided to actually try writing it after a friend encouraged me. I struggled to get going because originally I wanted Harry not to realize he even had a crush on Louis, and the characters simply would not cooperate. So he could only be oblivious about the courting rituals, not the crush. I want to say this is the most, like, stereotypical omegaverse that I've written? But it still starts with alpha Harry baking. baby, you're the end of june

I do not remember why, but at some point I got really interested in how girl direction omegaverse would work. I went looking on tumblr and online, and found a couple of references. So originally I wanted to explore the mechanics. But it became really, really personal while I was writing! I did not mean for that to happen! But I love how this one turned out. enough to make a girl blush

THEN I was like... but what about two female alphas? I don't know if the scents in this one quite work, they did in my head. But after this one, I felt like I kind of got f/f omegaverse out of my head because I had figured it out. when we're finished saying nothing

Although then I decided to do a cute followup on a side pairing from enough to make a girl blush for a fest. count me in

WAIT OKAY I'M SEEING A PATTERN. TWO PATTERNS.

CARETAKING – I think that I like seeing one partner taking care of the other in omegaverse (although I probably like that in all tropes)

And honestly, I just like trying new things.

So for me, I do like the unique aspect of the instincts and primal nature in omegaverse, but it's also just kind of a fun playground because you can do so many things.

I hope this wasn't too long! And listen, I know people who love omegaverse and people who won't read or write it, so there's no wrong way to fandom <3

[umbracirrus]

WIP Wednesday-!!💛

It's Wednesday again! I swear it was only just Wednesday... But anyway! This is a two part WIP, both a sketch and some writing. The writing can be described with a single sentence - Elyse is in Denial™️. The drawing is an attempt at designing a new outfit for Balgruuf - one that seems fancy and formal but isn't as difficult to draw as his usual clothes.

I've been tagged by @hircines-hunter and @skyrim-forever and I will be tagging @thequeenofthewinter and anyone who wants to share a wip (I'd tag more people but I'm absolutely exhausted and not many names are coming to me right now... But if anyone wants me to tag them let me know-!! ;u;)

So first of all, the drawing! It's a partially coloured drawing of an outfit I've started designing for Balgruuf... I wanted to have him wearing something other than his usual outfit, but still has some similarities (it's such a hassle to draw what he wears on his torso aside from the fur over his shoulders!). You get some of my little notes too :) I've not settled on the remaining colours aside from there being a yellow accent somewhere, hence why only part is coloured. I think it's going to be what I'll have him wear in The Perfect Storm when he marries Elyse ;3

And now, the writing-!!! >:3

------

“Is that all of them?”

“I... I think so?” Elyse let out a quiet sigh as she leaned down and placed her hands on her knees as she attempted to catch her breath. “By the Eight, I’m more out of shape than I thought I was.”

“You still did well though, even if you have spent most of winter hibernating in Dragonsreach.”

Her eyes darted up as she glared at her friend, who was now quietly laughing at her reaction. “I swear, that is what – the third time you’ve brought that up today?” Elyse stood up straight and folded her arms over as she raised an eyebrow. “Why do you keep trying to tease me about staying there, Lyd?

Lydia walked over to her and placed her hands on her shoulders. “Please don’t tell me that you’re blind to it. Please.”

“Blind to what?”

“The Jarl has eyes for you!”

Elyse frowned at that statement, before tutting and shaking her head. She then broke free from her grasp. “He’d do the same for any other Thane if they were in a situation like mine.”

“But those Thanes aren’t the Dragonborn. Those Thanes aren’t you,” Lydia grinned, which just made Elyse scoff and turn on her heel. “Come on, you can’t be that naive-“

“I love you Lydia, you’re like a sister to me, but by the Divines, you are annoying when you get these sorts of ideas in your head.”

“Jarls wouldn’t just get expensive jewellery for the birthday of any old Thane, you know. Nor would they shut themselves away when they upset any old Thane either. Invite them to join them at a festival. Or throw everything down when they hear that they’ve ended up under the care of the Temple of Kynareth! Divines, Elyse, he’s trying to court you!”

Elyse momentarily tensed as her face heated up, then shook her head. “No... That- He isn’t-“ She clenched her fists. “He isn’t... Couldn’t. Not me...” She then began to walk away. She didn’t want to handle any of this, not right now.

“I served Jarl Balgruuf for a few years before he assigned me to be your Housecarl... And trust me when I say that he acts different around you, in a way that he does nobody else.”

Pursing her lips together as she continued walking away, she tried her best not to dwell on what Lydia was saying. They were friends, of course she liked to tease her – though it was normally over her abysmal cooking skills, or how easily she got drunk... Not this.

But at the same time, did she have a point? She couldn’t possibly count the number of times he had sat with her to have tea, held her close, or wiped away her tears-

“Elyse!” The sudden yell from behind her made her flinch, before she quickly turned around and gasped.

[atreefullofstars]

So like, in my case, it's because I haven't been on board with the narrative's framing of the moral landscape since like episode... three?

This narrative is just PLAGUED with rules for thee but not for me. Is it wrong to assassinate the enemy kingdom's ruler who has blood on his hands? Depends on who does it. To send an assassin after the innocent young prince? Depends on who's doing it. To BE a magical assassin? Dunno, are you aesthetically pleasing while doing it? Is it wrong to kill bugs? Depends on who's doing it. Is it wrong to want power? Ditto. Is it wrong to use slurs and do unflattering impersonations of another species? Shocking and unforgivable if you're human, hilarious if you're an elf. Almost point for point, everything the "evil" characters have done that was bad, the "good" characters have also done and never been held to account for it by the other characters or by the narrative. And the "bad guys" have done a lot of GOOD stuff that the narrative refuses to acknowledge.

One of THE villains of the series is a man who worked tirelessly and sacrificed his physical health to not only defend his people from natural disasters and from incursions from invading forces, but ALSO defends the actual lives of said people from a king who would blithely throw thousands of them away for a feel-good moment with the queens of a foreign kingdom. Harrow FAILED as a king right there, it would have been DISASTROUS to his rule if they'd actually carried our that edict, Viren snatched that situation right out of the fire, and he's VILIFIED for it! And the reasoning is that they had to kill a big, possibly sentient, possibly unique creature to save thousands of (ordinary, common, boring) lives... ... but THEN when it's RAYLA AND CALLUM setting out with the intent to kill a big, possibly sentient, possibly unique creature -- not even to save lives, but to restore a cultural practice and claim the reward for it -- THAT'S FINE. Yes, they found a way not to kill it, warm fuzzies all around, but the narrative completely fails to grapple with the fact that they were GOING to and it NEVER treats that as wrong the way it does with the magma titan. (Caveat: I'm not saying Viren did nothing else wrong, but I take issue with the way sins were heaped upon him by the writers in later seasons because frankly they're just trying to retroactively justify the vilification that was already present in season 1.)

And the BIGGEST injustice at the heart of all these injustices is this idea that humans have no right to want magic, even when they're dying for lack of it, even when the people who have it are abusing them instead of helping them, humans have no right to call anybody out or take anything they aren't given or even wish for it to be different. Every human who ever did dark magic for any reason was wrong, every human who ever fought back against an elf or dragon was wrong, humans are supposed to accept their place at the bottom of the pecking order and in the reservations they've been force-marched to and they're supposed to be the ones to absorb any lingering anger from the conflict and set down their weapons first even when being actively invaded --

-- and then we get told the story of the FIRST time this happened, when a sweet innocent child motivated by love was the only one who wanted to help humans, and she was KILLED for it in the name of the natural order --

-- I'm on Team Aaravos here, not because I think he's righteous (he's not) or because this is nobler than vengeance (it's not) but because I'm disgusted with the so-called morality of everyone the show is telling me to root for. EVERYONE in this show has sought revenge for something at some point, which makes Aaravos no worse than any of them in terms of motives. Everybody's got blood on their hands, and the numbers just depend on who you think 'counts' as a person. He's manipulative in a way that obviously creeps some people out, but this show has failed to give me any character whose behavior I'm happy with, so pick your poison.

Aaravos is railing against the entire moral order of this little fictional universe and so am I. He wants to take that world apart with his teeth and I'm going to be over here with my popcorn. Fucking get 'em, babygirl.

Obviously he's going to lose, and we'll get some speech about how it was because of the desire for peace and unity or something, and it'll be super super gross, and the show will never actually address the fate it consigns the human race to, and everything will all work out because the writers said so, forever and ever, amen. Whatever. I'm here for the food at this point.

Someone explain to me why there are so many posts along the lines of: "Aaravos can do whatever he wants now that we know he lost his beloved daughter and has trauma"

My brother in Satan that's someone else's daughter he's going after and exploiting now.

I know the answer is He's Hot So He Can Do Whatever He Wants which- yeah like I'm here for the fandom's poor-little-meow-meowfication of him, too. Fandom gotta fandom, I guess. but still- I don't fully get that on a logical or emotional level.

The whole Leola thing did humanise him, yes, but that added complexity didn't change my mind about him being kind of a dick.

There is this song in Sweeney Todd, Johanna (Quartet). Sweeney grieves the loss of his daughter but that's still secondary to how focused he is on using that grief to fuel his desire for a revenge- Revenge that's destroying countless lives of innocent bystanders who mean nothing to him. The story he tells himself about his innocent daughter's faith is the justification for his actions. That's my perception of Aaravos. And that's ultimately more interesting to me than him being a perfect lil' victim of this all.

[tatsunokoori-blog]

Randumb thought

What if the "Second Coming" Metatron wanted was fucked over by Aziraphale miracling himself into having a kid instead of whatever target Met and God wanted? Like, completely split second decision on his part.

[lazylittledragon]

ok i swear i'm not going to talk about my breakup forever but the thing that just keeps bothering me:

i know that not getting what you need in a relationship is a COMPLETELY valid reason to end it but also. i feel like having a very vulnerable moment where i opened up about my struggles with intimacy and being relieved that i didn't have to keep doing things i wasn't comfortable with, then being dumped a YEAR later because of my lack of intimacy. is something i should be allowed to be very hurt by???

[nikolas-ghostbusters-fixation]

Something I've been thinking a lot about lately is how everyone thought Egon had gone insane. What Happened that made them think that. They've fought a gigantic Stay Puft Marshmellow Man TWICE (counting the 2009 video game because iirc it's canon? Correct me if I'm wrong), fought an interdimensional god, fought a blood thirsty ruler that killed thousands and was hated by all that was trapped in a painting (and managed to get in to beat him by making THE STATUE OF LIBERTY start walking down the street with slime that reacted purely based on vibes), found an underground abandoned transit system full of the moodslime, had a bathtub try to eat Dana and her baby, fought a giant murderous black widow lady, fought the fisherman ghost who turned an entire hotel floor into the bottom of a ocean, and that's not even mentioning them getting trapped on an island that randomly raised up from underwater that had been abandoned for decades created by Ivor Shandor who worshipped Gozer. So what did he do or say that made everyone else think he'd gone insane?? All I can think is maybe he was acting strange / eratic before, but he's always been like that to some degree.

I don't know. It's something that I've been thinking about. The correct answer is 'it's not that deep and they needed a reason that the others weren't together anymore and weren't aware of Egons death or know what was going on,' but also. What Was He Saying that prompted everyone, including Ray, to think he lost his mind when he'd been right almost every time before that.

I'm genuinely so curious as to what he was up to before this. What was he doing. What insane idea was working on prior to this or was he even working on anything at all??

Also want to clarify this post isn't negative 😭 I really love the newer movies and their lore / the newer storyline / characters, I just like thinking about small stupid things like this. Gives me something to think about / speculate about / figure out an answer to.

[nightlark100]

Consequences (Pt 7)

Peter wasn't exactly sure what sequence of events had led him here. Here being the Chasity's kitchen, where Karen Chasity had served then milk and cookies. He vaguely remembered them discussing telling Grace's parents about her situation, especially since Grace had gone nearly catatonic following their encounter with the Lords in Black. Even now she was hunched in her seat, twitching at any sudden sound or movement.

Grace had killed someone. That thought was hard to deal with. Yes, she'd been involved with Max's death but that had been an accident. And yes, her eagerness and knowledge when disposing of the body was unsettling but this was something else. Peter wondered how many of his classmates had died because of her. Was it just Jason? She hadn't mentioned anyone else... but then again she hadn't really been talking much.

"It is so nice to meet some of Grace's school friends. She's told us so much about you, Stephanie," Karen said with a bright smile. It faltered a little when she looked at Peter, he wasn't sure if that was because Grace hadn't said anything about him, had said something bad or just because she didn't like the idea of her daughter having a male friend.

Stephanie gave her an uncertain smile, obviously wondering exactly what had been said, but was spared from replying by the sound of the front door.

"I'm home!"

"We're in the kitchen Mark! We have guests!"

Mark Chasity entered, greeting his wife with a kiss on the cheek before pausing to look over the teens at his table.

"And who might you be?"

"This is Stephanie and Peter. They're some of Grace's friends."

"Stephanie Lauter?"

"That's me."

"It is so wonderful to finally meet our little Grace's best friend"

"Umm..."

"And... Peter? Is that right?"

"Yes sir. Peter Spankoffski"

Mark's eyes widened slightly.

"You're Theodore's little brother?"

"You know Ted?" Oh dear. That could be very bad.

"We went to camp together when we were younger. I must say, I hope you're less of a deviant than he is."

"I... erm, I try to be? I'm more focused on my studies than anything... deviant-ish." Mark made a thoughtful noise and Peter gave Steph a 'help me' look across the table. She cleared her throat, drawing the attention back to her. If the Lords in Black wanted her to be their prophet and use her experience watching her father play politics, she might as well start now.

"We actually wanted to talk to you both about something rather important. Isn't that right Grace?"

Grace's head jerked up from where she'd been in deep contemplation of a cookie she was steadily reducing to crumbs between her fingers.

"Yes... Momma, Daddy, can you sit down for a minute?"

The Chasitys took a seat, Karen's expression concerned while Mark's was more closed off.

Under the table Stephanie reached over and took Grace's hand, squeezing it gently.

"A few months ago, when all the murders were happening... umm... things got really strange and scary for me. And I found myself being tested... there were forces that used that fear to test my faith... and I... I failed."

"What happened sweetheart?" Karen asked.

"I sinned. I gave into my unclean thoughts. I let myself be defiled."

"Grace, please tell me you didn't..."

"I had sex. With a man. And... I'm pregnant..."

Karen let out a wail and clapped a hand to her mouth, tears shining in her eyes. Mark got to his feet and rounded on Peter.

"Did you do this?! I should have known, your family are all alike! Filthy deviants! Corrupting the innocent with your lustful ways!"

"I'm not the father!" Peter squeaked out. "No matter what you think of Ted, believe me I know what he's like and I'm sure it's justified, I am not like him. I'm Grace's friend. Only her friend! And I'm a virgin!"

"Then who is it? Do you know? Or have you sunk so low into sin there are multiple options?" He demanded of Grace, who had wrapped her arms around herself and was visibly fighting tears.

"No daddy. There was just one. Just one time. It was Max Jaegerman. I'm sorry, I know it was wrong!"

"I knew book carrying would lead to nothing good..." Karen said softly. "I should have spoken up... I'm a terrible mother..."

"Mom, no..." Grace reached over to touch her mom's arm but Karen pulled away.

"What do we do Mark?"

"Don't worry Mother, I can handle this. Grace will go to stay with her aunt and uncle, where she can repent for her sins."

"Mark, isn't there any other way?" Both Karen and Grace were crying now. Stephanie was gnawing at her bottom lip anxiously, while Peter's hands were balled into fists beneath the table. He felt a strange unfamiliar fury surging through him.

"We can't let people know about this, imagine what our church circle would say. It's what's best, Mother."

"Best for who?" Peter snapped, unable to keep quiet any longer. Mark blinked, taken aback.

"Excuse me?"

"Best for who, Mr Chasity? Cause it certainly doesn't seem like you're thinking about what's best for Grace"

"I beg your pardon! You have no right to speak to me that way! This is a private family matter, I would like you to leave!"

Peter got to his feet. He suddenly seemed taller than usual and Stephanie could have sworn there was a faint green sheen to his eyes.

"Grace asked us to come because she was scared. She hates herself for what happened because you've made her believe that any kind of mistake makes her worthless. She reached out to you because you are her parents and you're supposed to love and support her, no matter what! Instead you berate her and all you can think about is how it reflects on you. I may not be part of your church but I was raised Christian and I know that God is supposed to be about love and forgiveness. Honestly, I think he would be ashamed of you right now Mr Chasity." Mark spluttered in rage, his face turning an unpleasant shade of puce. "But it doesn't matter what you think. If you won't support her, we will."

"I am her father!"

"And she's eighteen and a legal adult. You have no authority to send her anywhere," Steph cut in, moving to stand beside Peter so the two of them were bracketing Grace. "Maybe you should try asking her what she wants to do. What she needs."

"I don't want to leave..." Grace said quietly. "I'm happy in Hatchetfield."

"You live under my roof-" Mark began but was cut off by Steph.

"She can stay with me. Come on Grace, lets go get your things."

Wiping her eyes, Grace got to her feet and followed Stephanie upstairs. Peter moved to stand at the foot of the stairs, wary that Mark might try something. Neither of the parents followed, but he could hear Karen Chasity sobbing in the kitchen.

It only took a few minutes for the two girls to return with a gym bag stuffed with clothes. Peter guided them towards the front door. As he opened it, Mark and Karen emerged from the kitchen.

"Grace stop this foolishness right now!" Mark demanded. Steph wrapped her arm around Grace's shoulder more firmly.

"Grace, please..." Karen begged softly. Grace paused, meeting her mother's eye.

"I'm sorry Momma."

Consequences (pt1)

In which the Lords in Black aren't fully satisfied with Grace's sacrifice (or, the pitfalls of an abstinence only sex education)

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

She hadn't wanted to kill them, Grace thought numbly as she stared down at her dirt streaked hands, unable to shake the image of her latest victims from her mind. Yes, she believed that the behaviour she'd witnessed from the young couple, drunk and making out in the park, was dirty and perverse but she didn't want to kill them. And yet when she had gotten near, it was as though she was seized by a terrible hunger and she just couldn't stop herself.

She slipped to the ground, resting her head against the side of her bed and felt tears burning her eyes. It had been a few months since everything with Max... since she had given in to the primal temptations and sacrificed her chastity to send him to hell. She should feel... something. Relief? But her insides felt like they were rotting. She'd done so many terrible things and she didn't even have her unwavering faith to fall back on anymore, not after what she'd seen in the school gym. She didn't know if the colourful figures had been demons or if they truly were gods but it felt like jagged claws had slashed apart the fabric of her soul, leaving jagged doubts behind. Doubts and hunger.

At first she'd been able to ignore it but it had gotten stronger. It would rise in waves, crescendoing down onto her when they peaked and leaving her scrabbling for purchase as her mind crumbled.

Even the brief moments of peace she usually got between the waves had been lost to her now as she found herself battling daily with nausea, sometimes barely making it from her bed to the bathroom in time. She had tried to hide it as best she could but she knew her parents were concerned, had heard them whispering while she lingered in doorways. If it continued much longer they'd want to take her to the doctor, but she knew medicine couldn't help her. Her soul was sick, that was the cause. She would just have to pray harder. Maybe she could ask Stephie and Petey for help? Surely her friends would agree to pray with her when they saw how bad things had gotten.

Struggling to her feet, feeling her stomach twist painfully as she did so, she retrieved her phone from her bedside and sent Steph a text asking to meet up.

Her friends would help. They had to.