#but rather something dealing with his mind

[dyingswanpavlova]

Treasure

Pairing: Hwang In-ho/The Frontman × Reader

Warnings: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Smut, Age Gap (Reader is 25, In-ho is 54), Usage of Daddy, Mentions of Emotional Abuse in the Past, Low Self-Esteem, Sex as a Business Deal, Edging, Spanking, Overstimulation, Face Slapping, Oral Sex (Both receiving), Gagging, Degradation Kink, Praise Kink, Minors do not interact!

Author's note: It's mostly bad experiences and smut. Anyone who knows me, knows I can't do wholesome...But, you guys, I'm trying!

It has been quite a while since his wife died and he hasn't gotten over it. But now he found someone who brings out a softer side of him...or makes him feel anything at all. Even if it's just the fact that he doesn't have to dine and sleep alone.

The day of her death was always the worst.

Of course he was always cold. One might even muster up the courage to call it cruel.

He was a complicated man in any sense of the word. While he was as cunning as he was handsome, he was also cool and composed. He didn’t ever lose that tight composure, until he allowed himself to. There were only few situations that allowed him to let loose and unleash the beast that lived within him.

It was rather obvious that there was more to him. The way he carried himself made it seem like he was no more than the stoic business man, but sometimes, sometimes you caught a soft glimpse of whatever was underneath. The way his eyes shone in a certain light.

 His brother was enough.

His wife, of course.

 But you were clever. And your sense of self-preservation forbade you to pry. All you had to do was do your job. And what was your job?

You found yourself applying a drop of perfume to your neck and your wrists, staring at your form in the mirror. The black lace covered most of your intimate parts, but it was just enough to leave him yearning for more. He liked that especially – when he had to use his imagination.

But sometimes, on rare occasions like that night, he needed more. He needed a little, naughty dream, to distract him from the turmoil that raged within him.

He was never cruel to you. He was just cold.

It wasn’t like you minded. So far, you had heard all kinds of things from a few friends of yours. Men could be vile creatures, who performed the most heinous crimes, whenever they felt like it. You were sure you could call yourself lucky, when it came to that.

He was older, that was out of question. But that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. Not for you anyway.

You couldn’t tell when that started or what the exact reason was.

Your father had been a fairly good man. He never abused you and never hurt you out of the ordinary. The occasional session of spanking was something that stopped once you got older. Of course a child that steps out of line will get punished. It’s not that dramatic and you were sure, you took no damage after that.

He had been a kind man. Good-hearted. He loved you, your sister and your mother very much.

Until he got drunk.

Of course, he loved you then as well. And he never hit you then, either. Not you.

Your mother, sure. The poor, sweet woman she was. Her broken spirit cracked through the light in which her soul was covered, because she was strong like that. Gentle, but strong.

He wasn’t gentle when he drank. No, all you had to do was say the wrong thing at the wrong time and suddenly he’d explode. The way he yelled out of nowhere was the worst thing. The way he gritted his teeth like a wild animal.

You had flinched more than once during the course of your life, simply because he got so angry.

But after a while, he always calmed down, didn’t he? He came down from his demonic horror trip and suddenly, he was good again.

Of course he was proud. Too proud for anyone’s good. His pride often kept him from apologizing. In most cases, he’d just try and act like nothing changed, like nothing happened, like he didn’t just made the walls crumble with his anger.

But sometimes, when he went really overboard, he managed to swallow his pride and then he would apologize. A hug, a kiss, and everything was back to normal.

You forgave him. Why wouldn’t you? He was your father. He loved you.

But daddy issues? No. He was there, after all. He didn’t abuse you. Didn’t hit you.

You had no issues. Why would you?

Right?

You finished applying the perfume and decided to put on some lip balm. It held the faintest hint of rose-color. He didn’t like too much make-up. He didn’t like anything that felt like you were playing dress-up. The silk on your body, it only made sense if it highlighted your character in a way. Not change it.

The gloss on your lips, the blush on your cheeks. No eyeshadow allowed, unless it were natural colors. Mascara was alright, but no fake lashes.

Blush was okay, contour was not.

Lace was okay, leather was not.

J’adore was okay, Chanel Number 5 was not.

You released a slow breath and took a moment longer to check your appearance.

You were pretty, you knew that. Probably not in the way that made you get voted prom queen. More in the way that made weird men ogle you.

That was a talent of yours you had figured out at some point. Your eyes were expressive. And people loved to eye-fuck you.

Sometimes, you’d indulge. It depended on the man and the situation. It depended on the way his eyes on you made you feel.

Not any man would do. Some were perverts, some were disgusting, some desperate. You didn’t look back, when a man walked beside his oblivious wife and looked at you like he was ready to devour you. You also didn’t look back, when a man stared at you with wide eyes and licked his lip in a way that was too lecherous at once.

A subtle glance.

Not even a smile.

Just a look.

You’d look away and after a while, you’d check again. The feeling that spread in your chest was often the same. One of recognition, of attention. It made you feel pretty and desired. Someone wanted you. They were subtle about it, but not subtle enough to refrain themselves from staring.

In most cases, it didn’t lead to anything.

Sure, you had that messed-up phase, after you turned nineteen. Looking back, you really wished your father had been stricter with you. You were always allowed to do whatever you wanted. Meet who you want, do what you want, unless, of course, it got dark outside. No walking alone in the dark.

But he never checked who you were with, if you were truly where you said you were. Your parents trusted you. Back in the day, when you told them you had already finished your homework, they trusted you. Your bad grades weren’t their fault. They had trusted you to do better.

Back when you were nineteen, when you told them you were at the cinema with a few friends, they trusted you. They didn’t check, if maybe you were getting pounded away by some forty-seven year old man, who came on your face and left you feeling used and humiliated.

Never during. Always after.

You had no idea why you felt like you needed this so badly. Attention of men. Approval of men.

Men.

They were never good to you. They used you in most cases and then they’d just up and leave.

First, you were naïve. You pictured all kinds of things. Your mother’s Italian friend, who’d take you to Rome and buy you gelato. You’d walk some coast and he’d show you the lovely way Italians lived. He’d love you, you were sure.

It didn’t matter than he had a daughter your age or maybe even a few years older.

He’d love you.

But of course, he didn’t. Silly you, you really believed that, didn’t you? And he didn’t even say he would. You just made up that version of him in your head.

Some sweet guy from Oregon, who sang Arctic Monkeys song for you with his guitar. You only spoke online, but why care? You’d go and live the American dream with him. Of course you would. He had those soft, brown eyes and the voice of an angel.

You’d give him as many babies as he wanted.

So, of course you agreed, when he asked you to take your top off. Suck on your fingers, look up at the camera with doe eyes, while you did. You slipped two fingers inside yourself, moaning and gasping. Of course you were pretending. Who got off on this? Not you. All he did was stare at you. You didn’t see his face, while he pulled his pants down. It was either his face or the rest of him. But you were looking at him, while you touched yourself for him. It didn’t take him long to cum. But that was alright. You’d get married, after all. In some cases, long distance worked. This was one of them of course.

Blocked.

You spent months trying to find him again. But no way. He was gone, deleted, lost in the depths of the internet. A lost memory. A shameful one.

Sometimes you asked yourself, why your sister turned out normal. She had a job, a family, a husband who loved her. Or did he?

He did get angry, at times. And those few times when he called her a slut, when they argued. It wasn’t that bad, right?

That one time he left her standing at the sidewalk in the middle of the night, in a foreign city. It wasn’t that bad, right? She had angered him after all.

You felt nauseous, just thinking about it. Your sister was the epitome of life and liveliness. She was so spirited, that sometimes her anger scared you. Her confidence did for sure. She was your father’s daughter after all.

But the bastard she married broke that spirit.

And she didn’t even realize it. She just let it happen. You didn’t understand it.

But what you did understand was that she wasn’t as perfect as you always thought. Things were a little more complicated than you initially thought. But you were still far behind her.

You tried to push the thoughts of your messed-up existence and upbringing aside and focus on the task at hand.

Him.

Mr. Important.

You knew his real name and he knew yours, but names didn’t really matter. All you normally called him was daddy.

But luckily, you weren’t babygirl or little girl. That felt odd, even to you. It wasn’t that he was after that – someone who was remarkably younger than him. You just happened to be.

He was fifty-four, going fifty-five. You were twenty-five, going twenty-six.

Thirty years more or less, who cared about that?

And he didn’t really look his age. You found, he looked a good forty-six, maybe.

But aside from that, he was different. The were two kind of men in the world.

The real ones and the made up ones.

The ones who ogled you, while they were walking beside their wives and the ones who never got over their wife’s death and were looking for a way to distract themselves.

You had seen a picture of her. He didn’t make a secret of it. No, he was proud to having loved her. The thought filled you with something bittersweet. A part of you was jealous. Jealous, that someone got loved so intensely, that she’d never be forgotten, ever.

After all, she died young and pregnant. It made you nauseous.

And another part of you, the far bigger part, the less selfish part, it admired him.

He loved her. He loved her so dearly, that she took a great part of his soul with him, when she left.

God, you wished to be loved like that. To be loved at all.

You remembered the way you first met him. The subtle eye-contact. No smile.

But you didn’t feel like you normally did. Something about him was different. He wasn’t lecherous. He was calm. Almost like he was…lonely.

And he understood your loneliness.

The arrangement came quick and without any fuss. He did pay you, but not with money per say. He paid for your studies, he bought you gifts, sometimes he took you out to places you had never been before.

The theatre. The ballet. The opera, even.

That was what you loved the most. He didn’t just use you and left you feeling empty. He didn’t even fuck you every time you saw him. Sometimes you’d just go out. Have dinner. Talk.

You talked a lot and about everything. Sometimes you felt like you were an old soul, sometimes you felt like you knew nothing at all. He knew things. He looked at you. He listened to you.

Sometimes he could be really funny. On other nights he was rather quiet.

You didn’t care if he absentmindedly played with your hand or hair or if he stared straight ahead. Whatever he did, it always made your heart race.

You understood that you were treading on very thin ice.

Feelings were not a part of the arrangement.

He would never love you. You would never be more to him than treasure.

But when you lay there, your head on his chest and still breathless after you just spent hours doing the most wicked things to each other, you couldn’t help yourself. You craved his warmth. His arms around you and how protected he made you feel.

You couldn’t make a mistake. Nothing you did ever made him yell at you.

And that was rather dangerous.

Because you could picture it so easily. Being his wife. His everything. Having his children. Cooking his dinner. Doing all the things loving people did.

All the things loved people did.

You pushed the thought aside with intense fervor, when you heard his raspy voice call out for you.

“Treasure? Are you alright?”

You nearly gasped when you realized how long you had been in there. With a soft shake of your head and a slow exhale, you pushed down the door handle and stepped out of the bathroom. He stood in front of the fireplace and stared down at the flames, lost in thought. When he heard the door open, he looked up and met your gaze. Something in him stiffened for a moment and his gaze ran down your body slowly. You swallowed thickly and tried to push your nervousness aside.

You wanted to be perfect for him. But you were so far from perfect. Each and every time you feared he would look at you, scoff and shake his head.

“I don’t remember that much skin.”

“You looked younger last time.”

“Where’d that wrinkle come from?”

But of course he never said anything like that. Simply your insecurities, giving you a hard time.

He hummed softly and shifted so that he was fully facing you.

“You look beautiful.” He murmured. “Come here.”

You approached him with slow steps, the sound of your tiptoes the only sound beside the crackling of the fireplace.

You came to a halt before him and he tipped your chin up in a gentle way, slowly tilting your head up and making you look at him. He brushed his lips over yours in the softest way, making you shiver in response.

His hand slowly ran down the side of your neck, until his fingers brushed over the lace that covered your collarbone. His eyes followed the movement and he released a soft sigh.

“You get more and more beautiful every day.”

How did he expect you not to fall in love with him, when he was being like this?

“Thank you.” You whispered in return and swallowed a bit of your nervousness.

His eyes crinkled in a smile that hardly reached his eyes and his hands slowly came down to grip your hips.

“You know what day today is?”

You nodded.

“Good.” He whispered and dropped his hands to his sides. “Then be a good girl for daddy and distract him.”

You licked your lips and slowly pushed him back. He was letting you. Until you reached the armchair and he slowly sat down on it. You stood before him and tipped his chin up, making him look up at you now. The look in his eyes was nothing short of admiration. His breath against your skin sent a pleasant tingle down your spine.

You slowly straddled his lap and rested your knees on the armrests, pressing yourself against him and feeling the hardness in his pants press into you already. But not yet, you thought. Why not tease him a little?

You leaned in as if to kiss him, but the second before your lips met, you slowly pulled your head back, a mischievous glint in your eyes.

A low growl grumbled in his chest. “Stop being a brat.” He murmured.

You bit your lip and leaned back with a grin. “Me? A brat?”

“You’re just asking to be punished.”

That made you chuckle. “Well…”

“Oh, I see.” He tangled a hand in your hair and tugged on it, tilting your head back and making you look up at him. “That’s how you want to play?” He murmured and his hot breath fanned over your lips and neck. “Alright, then. I invented this game, little dove.”

He released his grip on your hair and grabbed you by the hips, standing up and holding you against him. He picked you up like you weighed nothing and strode off to the bed, practically throwing you down onto it. The sudden intensity left you breathless and you looked up at him with wide eyes. He reached for his tie and slowly undid it.

“I thought you were daddy’s good girl. Looks like I was wrong.”

He sounded as calm as ever, not a hint of anger as usual. He was just being himself.

“I am your good girl.”

“I’d prefer you to be bad right now. Because I feel like punishing you.”

You swallowed thickly and bit your lip, like you did every so often when he got you cornered like this.

“How?” You whispered.

He smirked in that delicious way, which lit his whole face up without even trying. Then he slowly pulled the tie off and ran his fingers along the soft material.

“Turn around.”

Within seconds, you were on your knees and facing away from him. His hands were gentle as he reached for your wrists and brought them behind your back to tie them together. You took a slow breath and closed your eyes, while your body surrendered. It wasn’t hard for you. You trusted him. He knew your boundaries.

For whatever reason, with him you had boundaries.

Never in your life before had you ever told anyone to stop or not do something. Was it fear of being rejected? Simply fear? Something else? Whatever it was, it kept you from setting healthy rules to keep your body and mind safe. You were free to use. Anyone just did whatever they wanted.

Sometimes you did protest, but they wouldn’t stop and eventually you gave in.

But not so him.

He had asked not once, not twice, but countless times. Until eventually you had been forced to be honest and tell him what it was that threw you off. And to your surprise, he didn’t get angry, didn’t even move a muscle. He just nodded and accepted it.

There were a few freaky things you were into and you were obviously allowing him to do. But if there was something that you didn’t want, he didn’t do it. Just like that.

How hard it was not to fall for him. Impossible even.

He tied your wrists together fairly tight and made a point of pulling on the tie to make sure it was good enough. You felt his gaze roam along your back silently. He then ran his fingertips up your back, over your shoulder blades and eventually the back of your neck.

“You’re my little brat, aren’t you?” He purred.

When you didn’t respond at first, he made a point of gently tugging on your hair.

“Yes.” You whispered.

“Yes what?”

“Yes, daddy.”

“And you’ve been bad, haven’t you?”

When you nodded, he tugged again, slightly harder this time. You gasped and immediately added: “Yes. Yes, I’ve been bad.”

“So, you deserve to be punished. How should I punish you?”

There was only one right answer to that.

“However you wish.”

You heard the way he smirked. “Good girl. You’re learning.”

He hummed and slowly circled you like a predator. Of course you felt rather exposed, kneeling on the bed like that, wearing nothing but that thin piece of lace and nothing to cover the dampness between your legs.

“Look at you.” He murmured. “So open and ready for me. Let’s see how ready, shall we?”

He didn’t hesitate to slide his hand between your legs and run a finger over your wetness. You couldn’t help but inhale sharply. Your body was aching for his touch.

Surprisingly, he knew how to make you cum. Pretty good even. No other man had ever accomplished that. You’d normally count only on yourself for that, but Mr. Important? Fuck, he was skilled.

He circled your clit in the same skilled way, causing you to squirm and gasp under his touch. He began to work his fingers on you more and more quickly, keeping his gaze firmly on your face. Your brows furrowed in a mixture of pleasure and embarrassment, but you didn’t care. You were so close. So close. So-

You whimpered when he sharply withdrew his hand, leaving you aching.

“Please-“ You whined.

“Not yet.” He said calmly. “Open your mouth.”

You obeyed wordlessly, allowing him to slide his slick fingers into your mouth and making you taste yourself on him. The bulge in his pants became more and more obvious and it did things to you. The way he looked at you, while he made you suck on his fingers was enough to make you go dripping wet. After a beat, he slowly pulled his fingers back and dried them against his shirt. You let out a shuddering gasp.

“You still ought to be punished, if I recall correctly.”

“Wasn’t this punishment enough?” You whispered.

He smirked. “Not even close.”

He sat down on the edge of the bed and gently draped you over his lap, stomach down and your rear up in the air. Your cheek was pressed against the sheets and you closed your eyes.

“Ten. You know the rules.” He murmured and you nodded.

His flat hand cracked against your skin, sending a sharp pain through your body. He wasn’t gentle about that. Not at all.

You cried out in pain and tried not to squirm too much. “One. Thank you, daddy.” You gasped out.

He hummed approvingly, before his hand came down a second time, causing you to wince and cry out again. Somehow, every strike seemed to get more and more rough. Your skin felt raw and sensitive, more and more with every hit, but you forced yourself to stay still and count, like a good girl. By the time you reached the seventh hit, the pain was nearly unbearable. But you knew better than to beg and plead. It only turned him on more and he was ready and eager to start anew.

“Nine. Thank you, daddy.”

“One more. Just one more, treasure. You’re almost done.”

He deliberately waited for a few seconds, causing you to go rigid and tense in his grip. The uncertainty of when the next hit would follow was nearly killing you. Just when you expected it and you winced forcefully, he instead ran his palm along your red skin gently. You took a deep breath.

And then it came.

The most painful of them all and you immediately felt tears sting your eyes. Your voice cracked as you cried out: “T-ten. Ten. Thank you. Thank you, daddy.”

He made a soft sound, filled with approval and a hint of pride. “That’s my good girl. You did so well. I’m proud of you.”

His words made you feel warm and fuzzy and suddenly you felt like crying even more. Your feelings for him were more complicated than you thought.

“Thank you.” You whispered, still trying to catch your breath.

“I think you deserve a reward.” He murmured.

You tried to swallow, with your mouth dry and whispered: “I do?”

He ran a gentle hand over your hair and hummed again.

“You do. Let’s see what we can do for you.” He shifted you gently so you lay on the mattress instead, staring up at him with red-rimmed eyes. He ran his knuckles over your cheek and smiled slowly.

“Was it too much?”

You shook your head.

He took a slow breath and nodded. “Good.” He shifted so he was on top of you now and pressed a leg between your own. His knee slowly pressed against your core and you felt your eyes fall shut. You didn’t try to hide your pathetic whimper.

He smirked against your ear and gently nipped at it. “Look at that. Have you been this wet all the time?”

Your face flushed painfully and you swallowed your embarrassment. “Yes.”

He hummed approvingly and ran his lips along your cheek, before they finally met your own. You had no time to understand what was going on, when his tongue already parted your lips and delved into your mouth. He wasn’t sweet about it, instead your tongues met in a messy battle, ready to prod at and devour each other.

“What are you?” He groaned against your lips.

“Your cumslut.” You whispered back.

He groaned again and bit down on your lower lip. “Fuck, yes, my dirty little cumslut. You want daddy’s cum, don’t you?”

“Yes, daddy.” You moaned out.

“Where do you want it, treasure? Dripping down your chin or deep inside you?”

Your eyes nearly rolled back. “Wherever you want.”

He pulled back just enough to kiss your neck. His kisses made you squirm and shudder, but it only ever got more and more intense. You felt so exposed and helpless, but also cared for.

He slowly moved his lips along your collarbone, before they brushed over the material that covered your breasts. He bit down on it and tore at until you felt the cold air hit your now exposed chest. He growled in response and didn’t hesitate to kiss and suck at the skin of your breast. Your hips involuntarily arched against his knee, which was still working on your core. You gasped breathlessly and rubbed yourself against him, desperate for more friction.

“Please-“

“Patience.”

He licked a wet path down your stomach, causing you to writhe and moan.

He wasn’t one for half things. When his lips reached your core, he wasn’t gentle or careful. No, his mouth enveloped your most sensitive spot and he began to work his tongue on you almost furiously. He sucked and licked, slid his tongue inside you and over your wet folds with an intensity that made you cry out. He then sucked on your clit in a way that was almost too much, but just right to make you cum so good that you felt like everything around you faded into nothingness. You felt warm and good, better than you had ever before. He took his time and made the moment last, riding out your release so intensely that you nearly had to pull away from him when it became to much. He smirked up at you and slowly came back up to face you. He was fighting for air, as were you.

“Oh God, that was-“

He pushed his tongue back inside your mouth, nearly fucking it. At the same time he slipped two fingers inside you, curling them torturously and pumping them against you in a way that brought you close yet again.

“P-Please, I- Ah!” Your release rolled over you again, hard and soft at the same time, with an intensity that was near painful. Your hips arched off the bed and you nearly screamed by the way you couldn’t find it in you to shut your mouth.

You gasped for air and expected him to finally pull back, but he didn’t. He kept curling his fingers against your sweet spot and the feeling quickly became too much. Your body was so sensitive and every new touch he added felt almost painful.

“Stop- Please- St-“ You cried out and pressed your hips against his hand involuntarily. Your release came crashing yet again, this time it was a feeling between heaven and hell. It still felt good, but it felt far too much.

“Please.” You gasped, before the feeling even was gone. “Please. I can’t take any more…”

He smirked against your lips and gently bit down on the lower one, before he slowly withdrew his hand.

“Good girl.”

You were still panting and gasping for air, when he gave your cheek a light slap. “Time for you to get to work.”

You moaned, and with some effort, fought your way to get up. Your hands were still tied, so you carefully slid down to your knees, kneeling in between his legs. He was still in his pants, so you looked up at him with innocent eyes and whispered: “Can you help me?”

He smirked again and gently cupped your cheek in his hand. “So obedient.”

He freed himself from his remaining clothes and you found yourself staring at him. Despite his age, he was so well-built and you were always desperate for every glimpse, every touch and every taste.

“Can I?” You breathed out.

He hummed and nodded. “Get to it.”

Your gaze wandered down, but he quickly caught your chin. “Keep your eyes on me.”

Your insides tingled with newfound desire. You forced yourself to keep looking at him, while your tongue slowly slid down his stomach. You saw the shift in demeanor. He was still dominant and calm, but his breathing sped up and something changed in his eyes.

“No teasing today.” He all but growled. “Let me feel that pretty mouth.”

You didn’t hesitate to obey. You parted your lips and ran your tongue over his tip. His head fell and back and he groaned. He then tangled his hand in your hair and guided your movements. He didn’t give you time to catch your breath, he just pushed you down and forced you to take him in. You were caught off-guard for a moment and felt yourself gag. He loosened his grip the tiniest bit and you began to move in the rhythm and pace that he set for you. He quickly went from calm and collected to a beast which rammed his thick cock into you and began to use your throat to his pleasure.

You felt yourself grow wet yet again as you moaned against his skin. Whenever he seemed to hit the back of your throat, he couldn’t control the low moans and groans that left his lips. Your movements became more and more frantic, determined to make him feel just as good as he had you.

Of course you wanted him to fuck you and he probably would in an hour or two. And again and again and again…But right then, you wanted nothing more than for him to shoot his hot load into your mouth and down your throat.

You sucked and flicked your tongue against him in a way that made his grip tighten more and more until he-

He went still, except for his cock, which was throbbing furiously inside you. He came with a low growl and he filled your mouth with his seed. He held your head in place, until he rode out his release. When he finally caught his breath back, he released a soft sigh and his grip on your hair became gentle again.

“Oh God, that was…” He sighed again. “Fuck.”

You slowly swallowed every drop of his cum, all the while never taking your eyes off him. His eyes instantly darkened again and he ran his thumb over your tongue.

“My good girl. My treasure.” He breathed out. “I’m so proud of you.”

You closed your eyes and leaned into his touch. It became increasingly gentle and he slowly cupped your cheek in his hand.

“That was incredible.” He murmured. “I’m not done with you yet.”

He reached behind you and carefully freed your from his tie. Then he slowly rubbed his thumbs over your sore wrists.

“Does it hurt?” He murmured. You shook your head.

He pulled you up onto the bed again and gently laid you down beside him. He stared down at you for a long moment, before he finally rested his forehead against yours and closed his eyes.

“I don’t know about you, but I could use a full-course meal right now.”

You chuckled and wrapped your arms around him, slowly running your hands down his back. “Isn’t that what you just gave me?”

He smirked and slowly opened his eyes. “You and that wicked mouth of yours.” He murmured.

Your smile softened when he pressed a lingering kiss against your forehead.

“Can I stay for the night?”

He would most likely let you. He never sent you away feeling used or unsatisfied or, God forbid, unwanted. But there was a part of you that needed to be reassured so badly. And he seemed to know.

He raised a brow and his own expression softened.

“Did you expect anything else?”

His coldness melted away whenever you were like this, entangled and breathless.

No matter how many times he said that it didn’t mean anything.

His eyes told a different story.

“No.” You whispered softly and rested your head on his chest. “No, of course not.”

[vanillebunny]

Heyyy I saw you’re taking request so here’s a fun one! Can I request a hurt/comfort Thanos x reader post games fic? A soft reunión if you will! Obviously an AU where either the X votes win OR where Thanos actually survives his supposed death and gets out. I’m thinking he and the reader got super close during the games but completed lost track of each other afterwards. And one day they just do happen to reunite ☺️

a/n: hi anon!! thank u so much for requesting!! i keep rewatching squid game js for thanos i have a problem

warnings: light drug use, mentions of addiction, i think thats it but please tell me if i missed something!

you don't know how you got into this mess, how you managed to get into a deal so bad that it put you in deep debt. which brought you here, with all these people. in green tracksuits, all of them reduced to a number rather than a name

'it's okay, i'll play a few games, get my money and finally get back to my life' you think to yourself, fiddling with the sleeves of your jacket as you look around nervously. you don't know what this was, some form of pyramid scheme--gambling den? whatever it was, it didn't exactly bring ease to your mind

you're startled by the sudden sound of someone behind you, tapping your shoulder. you look back and see a man with purple hair, smiling like an idiot. you furrow your eyebrows, who the hell was this guy?

"seniorita excuse me" he says and smirks, "couldn't help but see you over here, all nervous--please, i know i'm too hot to handle but im sure.." he trails off and looks over you once, twice, before looking back at your face, "you can handle it" he says and you raise your eyebrows, repulsed by his actions. you back away

"who the hell are you?" you say, grossed out by this clearly overly confident guy

"im a legend!" he says and makes a little pose with his hands, "thanos." he says and wiggles his fingers, showing off the different colors of each nails

"thanos?" you scoff, "as in...that guy from the movies?" you say and he nods, wiggling his fingers even more to really emphasize the so called infinity stone colored nails

"don't worry seniorita! i have all the power in the world to protect you from these demons!" he says and surrounds you, looking at the people around you exaggeratedly, all of whom don't even spare him a second glance, clearly busy with their own problems

"uh...yeah thanks. im okay" you say and begin to walk away, to the crowd where everyone was listening to the instructions and such.

soon, you were all in the large sandy field, spreading out to begin the game. red light, green light they said. all of this just seemed...too easy. there has to be some catch, there's no way you play some child's game and walk out with billions of won

when you go around and take your place, you can hear running, and you look behind you to see none other than that same purple haired freak that was desperately trying to reach you. you roll your eyes and turn away but he was quick to get beside you

"phew! thought i wasn't gonna get to you in time" he says, as if it you two planned to be playing together or something, "don't worry, we'll play these games together--then you, me, billions of won in our hands. you think our kids would be proud of their appa for protecting their eomma and making sure she wins too?" he says and you just raise a brow, huh?

"who said we're playing together?" you say and begin to move away but to your luck, the game begins, and you have no choice but to stay frozen in place. where, thanos was right beside you, smiling triumphantly at the fact that you were still here

as the game begins, the players all seem to be moving calmly, nobody had lost till now. and it was all very relaxed, huh, maybe this wasn't as bad as you thought

but your relaxation went as quickly as it had come. a woman, not too far ahead of you, had a bee fly on her neck. a man beside her informed her about it and she--like any other person, panicked and moved, making her the first loser.

like in any other game, if someone lost they leave the game. so everyone expected her to just walk out, but as soon as she moved, a loud shot was heard. and you froze, the sight of her, falling to the ground--bullet to her head with blood already beginning to pool, you panicked.

what the hell was this? you knew this wasn't right! you knew there was a catch--but this? your heart raced, barely able to hear anyone with you. you watched helplessly as people began running and screaming, each one who moves an inch dies instantly by the shots firing from the sky.

you ran with every inch of strength you had, and just as the giant robotic doll stopped singing, you stopped. a tear streaming down your cheek, but you were too slow to realize--you were about to fall right when she turns her head.

you closed your eyes, accepting your fate. but somehow, you feel yourself still. you open your eyes, your chest heaving, you look down, seeing a pair of feet right beside you, probably the person holding you up

"don't move...okay? i got you" you hear the person say and you instantly know who it is, the same purple haired weirdo that had been trying to flirt with you earlier. his voice is...different though. it's not as cocky as it was before, you could hear a slight tremor, he's probably just as scared as you are

"th...thank you" you whisper out with tears streaming down your cheeks, the two of you continued on. holding on to each other as the game kept going, as soon as you finally reached the finish line, you hugged him tightly.

"thank you...thank you so much" you cry softly, so grateful. you thought he was just another guy that would probably let you die if it meant he wins, but to your surprise he wasnt.

he was a bit taken back by the sudden hug, but hugged you back. "i told you ill make sure you win too didn't i?" he says and you two pull away, and you smile half heartedly. annoyed by the reminder of his remark earlier, but still grateful. "i think it would be...kind of a bad story if i tell our kids i let their eomma die" he says and you shake your head, annoyed

soon, everyone was sitting in the room silently. not a single person was speaking, everyone was quiet. processing what they had just been through. you could see everyone had splashes of blood on them, probably from the people that have been shot around them. you sat alone, till you see thanos come and sit beside you

he's definitely not as scared as he was before, more hyper and aware of things. you could see him unable to sit still, sitting beside you while singing something to himself. he looks at you and grins, "im a kind man! ill share" he says and opens his cross necklace, which was fully supplied with candy. clearly not just any candy and probably the thing making him so hyper

you raise a brow and shake your head, you've been on that road before, it's what got you here. you'd rather not. "thank you...no. not again..." you mutter the last part to yourself, and he slows down his movements, noticing the distant look on your face.

"you try?" he says and you just nod, more to yourself than him.

"you don't wanna get too hopped up on that stuff...it's..not pretty" you say and he instantly closes his necklace, and kind of...just looks ahead, thinking.

soon, the guards come and everyone panics, some people crying and begging for them to spare their life. but the guards just stand there, trying to explain that that's not what's happening. one of the players, 456, suggests the idea that there should be a vote. you look at thanos for a moment

"are you...staying?" you say and he just nods, "i need to! im a legend yknow, this stuff is easy! can't go without my money" he says and you just look down. but he quiets down, "uh...are you?"

you quickly shake your head, "no--no i just...i want to go home." you say and get up to get in line for the vote, and he just follows you.

you vote for x, and go with the group, people cheering for you. thanos was right after you, and you can see him hesitate for a moment. his friend, can be heard telling him to keep playing. but he glances at you, just for a second, and presses x.

why would he do that? but he was in debt, he needs it way more than you do

after that, you woke up in the street. it was all a quick blur, as soon as the votes were counted up. the x votes more than the o. everything fades and you were alone in the street, tied up loosely with your clothes in a pile beside you. you managed to knaw the rope loose, and untied your legs, getting dressed.

the days went by quickly. you don't know what you were doing, but something just felt...wrong. not the games of course, never that. you'd rather die than play them again...but you die in the games too so its not really a good analogy. but anyway, it was just something. you were back on your own, without anyone, as it always was.

and you never did mind. you were used to it, so why was it...so strange now? so wrong?

you roamed the streets of korea, just lost in a daze, not really wondering where you're going. till you reach the arcade that was in the alley, you walk in and bump into someone

"hey! don't you--" the person's voice quickly came to a halt when they looked at you, you looked at them. it was none other than thanos. thanos! you don't know why, or how--but that feeling you've been going through ever since you managed to get out of the games, it was completely gone now.

the two of you looked at each other for a long time, before he smiles. "seniorita! i thought i'd never see you again!" he smiles and jumps around like an idiot. you should be weirded out, leaving and saying you don't want to see this freak again. but you don't. you stay and actually smile back

"this is great! now i have a partner to play with, les gooo!" he says and drags you along with him into the arcade without even giving you a chance to respond. the two of you had spent that time together, playing games and it was actually fun. for the first time you were...enjoying yourself

soon, you were both some convenience store nearby, eating ramen and laughing about how you both suck so bad at playing.

after a while it had grown quiet, and you wanted to just ask.

"...why did you vote x...when we were in the games?" you say and he just kind of looks away for a moment before looking back at you

"well!" he begins, trying to sound cocky, but you can tell he's just putting up a facade, "can't have the future eomma of my kids get hurt now, can i? to not be able...to go home" he says and just looks down, mixing in his ramen

you just look at him for a moment, its all so quiet. he was a freak, a weirdo when you met him. you said to yourself that this guy was clearly another junkie, some asshole thinking hes a big flirt. but right now...all you saw was just...thanos. hes just thanos.

"thank you thanos..." you say, just looking at him, and he stops mixing and looks at you, his cocky expression fading.

"choi su bong...my name...is choi su bong. thanos is just for...the ones i keep at a distance" he mutters and looks down, his hands--as if trying to reach for his cross necklace again, but you can hear him sigh when he realizes its not there

"did you lose it?" you ask and he shakes his head

"no...im not on that stuff anymore. well im trying at least." he says and you're surprised, you're pretty sure just a few days ago he was offering you a full stock.

"why's that?' you ask and he just looks back at you

"it's not pretty" he says, repeating your exact words. "well..still a long way to go but im starting" he says and nods to himself and you just smile

"you can do it...i know you can" you say and--mentally facepalm at what you're about to do, but you don't care that much. you hold up your hands and make the exact same pose he made to you when you were at the games, "you're a legend, thanos! this is easy" you say and he just chuckles at your attempt to imitate him

"yeah well i got you with me seniorita" he says softly, but quickly returns to his cocky expression, "im unstoppable now!"

you don't know what this was exactly. but whatever it is...you were happy with it

[cloversnstrawberries]

oc intro post ! ! parental!platonic yandere!supervillian

! requests open !

warnings; vague depictions of violence, implied violence against children/youth (reader), slight mentions of gore, body horror(?), and medical horror, yandere behavior, kidnapping, and there may be more i'm forgetting :( if so, please let me know!!

additional notes; hello everynyan, here is my first OC, Malpractice!! very creative name, i know, but i thought it fit (and also it's funny to me) :D i'm not quite sure what format to do for these introductions, but i'm sure as I make more i'll get better at them :) please leave suggestions for any parts/additions you'd like for these intros!!

! ! introduction blurb & moodboard below the cut ! !

Malpractice is known as one of the most destructive and hard-to-deal with villain in all of history, having appeared around the 1930s and refusing to go away since. Malpractices comes and he goes, but he always seems to return eventually, whether that be in three months, or 20 years. He is like an illness that never truly goes away. Remission is possible, but the possibility for it to resurface at any moment is a very real, impending threat.

With abilities ranging from mind control, disease manipulation, pseudo-necromancy, and enhanced senses, speed, and strength; no one hero could ever hope to face Malpractice head on alone. Not even a group of them could ever hope to entirely defeat Malpractice,

Malpractice was a charismatic, slippery asshole-- he'd never really been caught before, but he's sure as hell caught others before. While he isn't known for doing this often, if he wants something bad enough, he'll take his time to set a well thought out trap to catch whatever-- or whoever-- it was he sought.

And when he saw you, so young but so very battered-- left to deal with an (albeit low level, but still dangerous in its own right) threat because your mentor/partner, prioritized a personal goings-on instead of staying by your side.

He'd seen as the so called hero went off the side, leaving you to fight the threat alone-- as you desperately called for their help, only to realize that they'd left without a word; beckoned by the person on the phone.

And it must've been so strange, to feel a little tug on his heart as he witnessed your reaction. Not quite angry, but rather... disappointed, but accepting. Like this was a regular, expected occurrence. Like you were blaming yourself for holding your mentor to a higher standard than this.

By then, Malpractice had decided that you deserved better. He could provide you with that-- besides, in his eyes, even if you were just on the cusp of adulthood-- you were still a child.

My, the industry sure had gone downhill from his time, hadn't it? When he'd been a doctor helping the superpowered individuals, working under the agency, though in it's infancy at the time, had taught him that children were to be nowhere near the career.

Sidekicks were not children, they were simply other superpowered individuals who along, did not do very well; but fit well with a more powerful hero, creating a dynamic duo.

You and your mentor couldn't couldn't be more different, both personality and ability wise. Really, what was he supposed to do, not spring a 'surprise adoption' on you?

Obviously, you're only fighting it because you don't feel worthy of love. That's the only reason, not that you're afraid of him or anything!

[zuzu-tries-to-write]

Falling for the Act

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Pairing: Bakugo Katsuki x Reader

Genre: Enemies to Lovers, Fake Dating, Slow Burn, Romance

(Guys I just started writing this fake dating enemies to lovers trope and I honestly think it’s pretty nice)

Part 1: The Deal

“I’d rather die than date you.”

Bakugo’s voice was sharp, his vermillion eyes burning into yours with pure irritation. You crossed your arms, mirroring his glare.

“Yeah? Well, same here, Dynamite,” you shot back. “But unless you have a better idea, this is our only option.”

It had started out as a simple problem. You were sick and tired of your nosy classmates always prying into your love life—or, rather, your lack of one. Somehow, a rumor had started that you had a massive crush on Todoroki, which was completely false, but no one seemed to believe you. Mina, Uraraka, and even Kaminari wouldn’t shut up about how “cute” you two would be together. And then, just when you thought things couldn’t get worse, Endeavor himself had invited you to dinner, clearly taking an interest in the alleged relationship.

You needed an out. A distraction. A reason for everyone to drop this ridiculous idea.

And unfortunately, the only person you could think of who would definitely kill any rumors of you liking Todoroki was Bakugo.

You weren’t friends. Hell, you could barely stand each other. But that was exactly why this would work. No one in their right mind would believe you had feelings for the most insufferable, hot-headed, loud-mouthed person in Class 1-A. And if you were dating him, no one would push the Todoroki agenda anymore.

“Let me get this straight,” Bakugo said, rubbing his temples as if this entire conversation was giving him a migraine. “You want me to pretend to be your boyfriend just so these extras shut the hell up?”

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Yes, exactly. And in return, I’ll do whatever you want.”

That got his attention. Bakugo leaned back against the desk, arms crossed, considering your words. “Anything?”

“Within reason,” you clarified, narrowing your eyes. “I’m not committing murder for you, psycho.”

“Tch.” He scoffed, but the corners of his lips twitched, almost like he was amused.

For a moment, silence stretched between you. You could almost hear the gears turning in his head.

Finally, Bakugo exhaled sharply through his nose, looking more annoyed than anything. “Fine. But I’m not half-assing this, got it? If we’re doing this, we’re doing it right. That means dates, PDA, the whole damn thing.”

You swallowed. The thought of having to actually act like you were in love with Bakugo made your skin heat up. This was supposed to be easy—fake some smiles, hold hands in front of people, and call it a day. But the way he was looking at you now, all serious and intense, made you realize that you may have just gotten yourself into something way more complicated.

“Yeah,” you muttered. “Got it.”

Little did you know, this was the beginning of something neither of you could control.

To be continued…

[sfotiegiuls]

Rafe Cameron

- chapter two -

summary: Rafe Cameron is your best friendor rather he was. He was until you started hanging out with his sister, Sarah and her friends, pogues. Now it’s been some time since you’ve been with him and those rare times you meet him, when you’re with Sarah, he ignores you.

warnings: nothing !

words count: 1.5 k

Rafe cameron X ex- best friend fem!reader

It had been nearly two weeks since the party at the Cameron house, and Rafe hadn’t spoken to you since.

Not that you were surprised.

That night had changed something—shifted the ground beneath your feet in a way you couldn’t quite put into words—but you weren’t sure if it had been for better or worse. It felt like standing on the edge of something uncertain, something dangerous, something you couldn’t turn away from even if you wanted to.

You could still hear his voice, low and rough, a challenge wrapped in something that felt almost like a plea. Prove it.

You could still feel the weight of his stare, burning through you like fire, like he was searching for something in you that he wasn’t sure he’d find. And then there was the way his fingers had brushed against your wrist, hesitant and unsure, like he was caught between pulling you closer and letting you slip away. In the end, he had chosen the latter.

And now?

Now, it was back to silence.

It was like the night had never happened. Like he had never whispered those words to you, never looked at you like he was seeing something he wasn’t supposed to, something he didn’t know how to deal with.

If you saw him around Figure Eight, he barely looked your way. If your paths crossed at a party, he ignored you completely. His eyes would skim past you like you were a stranger, like you hadn’t stood in front of him two weeks ago with your heart on the line, waiting—hoping—for him to meet you halfway.

It was almost worse than before.

Because before, you could convince yourself he didn’t care. Before, you could tell yourself that whatever you felt, whatever this was, it was one-sided.

But now?

Now, you knew.

You had seen it in his eyes, in the way his jaw clenched when you got too close, in the way his hands curled into fists like he was physically restraining himself from reaching for you. You had felt it in the way he had hesitated that night, the way his touch had lingered longer than it should have, like he had been fighting some invisible battle with himself.

And still, he pushed you away.

So, you did the same.

You threw yourself into other things—anything to keep your mind from circling back to him. You spent more time with Sarah, with JJ, John B, and Kie. You let yourself laugh at JJ’s stupid jokes, let Sarah pull you into plans you normally would have said no to. You went out on the boat more, let the salty air tangle your hair, let the sun warm your skin until you felt like you could breathe again.

And for a while, it worked.

For a while, you could convince yourself that you were fine, that you didn’t miss him, that the space he had carved out inside of you wasn’t still aching with the absence of him.

But then there were moments—quiet ones—where your mind betrayed you.

Like now.

You sat on the dock behind Sarah’s house, your legs dangling over the edge as the water lapped gently against the wooden posts. The sun was beginning to set, casting shades of gold and pink across the horizon. The air was warm, thick with the scent of salt and summer, the kind of night that made everything feel a little softer, a little slower.

It should have been peaceful.

But your mind was anywhere but here.

It was back at the Cameron house, back to that night, to the way Rafe had looked at you, the way his voice had wrapped around you like a dare. Prove it.

You had wanted to.

God, you had wanted to.

But he had walked away before you even had the chance.

“Hey, you okay?”

Sarah’s voice pulled you from your thoughts, her concern laced in the soft lilt of her words.

You blinked, dragging yourself back to the present, back to the dock and the water and the fading sun. Turning your head, you found her watching you, her brows knit together, worry shining in her eyes.

You forced a small smile. “Yeah. Just thinking.”

Sarah didn’t buy it. You could tell by the way she tilted her head, studying you like she was picking apart every unspoken thought you didn’t want to say out loud.

“About Rafe?”

You hesitated, but there was no point in lying.

“…Yeah.”

She sighed, shifting beside you so that her shoulder bumped against yours. “I know my brother, and I know he’s an asshole. But I also know he doesn’t just… let people go. Not if they mean something to him.”

Your chest tightened. “Then why does it feel like he already has?”

Sarah was quiet for a beat, staring out at the horizon like the answer might be hidden somewhere in the rolling waves.

“Maybe he’s waiting for you to prove him wrong,” she said finally, her voice softer now.

You let out a short, humorless laugh. “That’s what he said to me that night.”

Sarah’s eyes snapped back to you. “Seriously?”

You nodded, tugging at a loose thread on your shorts, anything to keep your hands busy, to keep yourself grounded in the conversation and not in the past. “Yeah. He told me to prove it. Like I needed to prove to him that he still mattered.” You shook your head, frustration curling in your stomach. “But it’s not that simple. He wants me to choose, Sarah. And I can’t.”

Sarah was silent for a long moment, mulling over your words like she was trying to piece something together.

Then, she said, “You don’t have to.”

You frowned. “It doesn’t feel that way.”

She nudged you again, gentler this time. “Then maybe it’s time to show him.”

You exhaled, long and slow, your gaze drifting back toward the water.

Because maybe she was right. Maybe it wasn’t about choosing. Maybe it wasn’t about proving anything. Maybe it was about reminding Rafe that he had never really lost you in the first place.

But that meant stepping into the storm of who he was, into the chaos that came with loving him. It meant risking your own heart, trusting that he wouldn’t shatter it in the palm of his hands.

The question was… did he even want to be found?

And if he did—would he finally let you stay?

—

You weren’t planning on looking for him. Not really.

But later that night, when the air cooled and the sky deepened to a dark shade of navy, you found yourself walking.

Your feet carried you without thinking, moving through Figure Eight like they had a purpose, like they already knew where they needed to go. Past the quiet streets lined with towering houses, past the beach where the sound of laughter and crashing waves still hummed in the distance, past the edges of where you should have stopped.

And then, you saw him.

Rafe was sitting on the hood of his truck, parked just off the road near the marsh, a half-empty bottle in his hand. The glow of a streetlight flickered above him, casting sharp shadows across his face. His head was tilted back slightly, his gaze fixed on the sky, like he was searching for something in the stars.

You hesitated.

Turn around, a voice in your head whispered. Leave before he sees you.

But it was too late.

His head lowered, and his eyes locked onto yours in the dim light.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

Then, he exhaled, slow and controlled, like he wasn’t sure what to do with the sight of you standing there.

“What are you doing here?”

You swallowed, your pulse thrumming in your ears. “I don’t know.”

Rafe huffed out a quiet laugh, but there was no humor in it. He set the bottle down on the truck’s hood, leaning forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees. “You always do that.”

“Do what?”

He shook his head, gaze flicking over you like he was trying to figure you out. “Show up when I’m trying to forget you.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

He ran a hand through his hair, looking away for a second before muttering, “Not that it ever works.”

Silence stretched between you, heavy and charged.

You could walk away. Let him keep pretending. Let yourself do the same.

Or…

You took a slow step forward, your heart slamming against your ribs. “Then stop trying.”

Rafe’s jaw tensed. His fingers curled into fists on his knees.

You took another step, and this time, he didn’t look away.

And when you finally stopped in front of him, close enough that you could smell the whiskey on his breath, feel the heat radiating off of him, you realized something.

Maybe this wasn’t about proving anything. Maybe it wasn’t about choosing.

Maybe it was just about not running anymore.

And for the first time in two weeks, neither of you did.

———

taglist: @sublimepenguinpeach-blog

[shizuturnspages]

You could make a reader who is dead and has a fraternal twin brother who is a boy, what would the Yandere do when they meet the twin? Genshin impact, it can be any character, I don't know what to say thank you. It could be diluc, dainsleif

The Shadow You Left Behind

Synopsis: Your twin isn’t you. But to these men, that doesn’t matter. Because as long as a fragment of you still exists in this world—whether it’s in their mind, their grief, or the blood that runs through your brother’s veins, you will never truly be gone. Pairings: [Separate] Yandere Diluc, Dainsleif, Zhongli, and Alhaitham x Reader’s Twin

Diluc- The Ghost in Your Eyes

The moment Diluc sees your twin, the world stops.

It’s like looking at a ghost.

His breath hitches, his grip on his glass tightens until it cracks, and for a moment, he forgets that you’re gone.

But no—your twin isn’t you. He doesn’t move like you, doesn’t speak like you, doesn’t look at him the way you did. But those features, that familiarity—it’s enough to send a cold wave of nausea through him.

He swallows it down, schooling his expression into something neutral.

"You…" His voice is quieter than usual, strained. "You remind me of someone."

Your brother stiffens. He knows. He knows about Diluc, about the way you spoke of him, about the quiet longing in your letters—maybe even about how possessive Diluc was of you.

"You knew them," your twin says, guarded. It’s not a question.

Diluc sets his glass down, watching your twin like a lion cornering prey. "I did." A pause. "And you—you're all that's left of them."

It’s then that your brother realizes he’s in danger.

Because Diluc may have lost you, but your shadow still remains.

And he won’t let that slip away, too.

Dainsleif- A Lingering Curse

Dainsleif doesn’t react at first.

Not when he sees your twin. Not when those familiar features hit him like a knife to the ribs. He merely stares.

But in those cold, weary eyes, something fractures.

"You…" He inhales sharply, as if trying to steady himself. "You shouldn’t exist."

Your brother tenses. "Excuse me?"

Dainsleif steps closer, studying every detail, every difference. No—it isn’t you. But that face, that resemblance—it's an echo of something he lost, something that should have never been taken from him.

He exhales. "Where is their grave?"

Your twin hesitates. "Why do you care?"

Dainsleif’s gaze darkens. "Because if I cannot have them… then perhaps their ghost will do."

Your twin realizes too late—Dainsleif wasn’t asking.

Zhongli- An Unfinished Story

Zhongli is still when he sees your twin.

For a long moment, he simply observes. No flicker of shock, no shift in his composed expression—but there is something in his eyes, something deep and old and aching.

"You carry a heavy burden," he finally says.

Your twin clenches his fists. "I know who you are."

A faint, wistful smile. "Then you must know what they meant to me."

Your brother glares. "And I know what you meant to them."

Zhongli nods, slowly. "Then you understand why I cannot let you walk away so easily."

Your twin stiffens.

Because Zhongli’s gaze isn’t on him.

It’s on the ghost he refuses to let go of.

And if keeping your twin close is the only way to preserve your memory—then so be it.

Alhaitham – The Unfinished Chapter

Alhaitham doesn’t flinch when he sees your twin.

Doesn’t even blink.

He simply tilts his head, watching with cool, unreadable eyes.

"Fascinating," he murmurs.

Your brother scowls. "Is that all you have to say?"

Alhaitham exhales. "I’d rather deal in logic than sentimentality. And logically, you shouldn’t exist."

Your twin clenches his jaw. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Alhaitham closes his book with a soft thud. "It means you’re an anomaly."

A pause. Then, a cruel smirk.

"But an anomaly I can use."

Your twin realizes, with growing horror, that Alhaitham isn’t interested in him.

He’s interested in what remains of you within him.

And he won’t stop until he’s taken everything.

[midnight-mourning]

The Thought That Counts

💘💘Midnight's DCA Valentine's Day 10💘💘

This one was super interesting for me as someone who's ace to sit and think about, shout out to the aroaces, this one is for you, little hurt/comfort just because that's what i was feeling

Prompt: Sun and Moon discussing with an Aroace yn why they dislike romance? Or maybe just watching some really bad romcoms on a horrible day

Word Count: 1753

Read here if you prefer ao3!

💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌

The sound of happy love songs has started to grate on you recently, you're not going to lie. You get maybe like, a couple days worth, but all week long feels a bit, excessive. Not to mention the barrage of lovey dovey advertisements, decorations, and so on you've seen everywhere you've went.

Sure, it all wasn't intentionally done to annoy or make you uncomfortable, but sometimes it certainly felt like it. 

As you walk into the Daycare for work, you do your best to ignore it as per usual. Today would hopefully be the last day—since it was Valentine's, after all—and then you could go back to living in peace. 

Again, it wasn't necessarily a hate for the holiday, rather it was just a general discomfort. Not typically feeling, if ever at all, attraction for other people just made you feel like you were getting pressured into a game everyone else was playing. Except for you that is. 

It just wasn't your holiday, and that was fine, you just simply wished others would see it that way too. Instead of having to constantly be on edge if you said the wrong thing about not wanting the persistent reminder that you don't fit inside the box everyone else puts you in. 

It was a bummer, and it hurt quite a bit. Losing friendships and the likes in certain cases. Just because of the fact you didn't experience the world the way they did. 

But, you'd deal with it. Just like you've always done. 

If you could, that is. 

Unfortunately, your favorite coworker(s) had made it a bit difficult to keep your head down and avoid like you typically did. 

Valentine's was their favorite holiday—though, you think they said that with every holiday—and thus they had to go all out for it. 

Every inch of the Daycare was covered head to toe with decorations, streamers and paper hearts covering every surface. Instead of the Daycare theme, age appropriate love songs played through the speakers up above softly, adding to the overly love-filled atmosphere. 

For them, you were sure it was great, exactly the vision they had in mind. For you, it was just, too much. 

But the decorations and the music weren't the problem. Unfortunately, it was Sun and Moon themselves causing the 'issues' you were dealing with. 

All week long they'd been leaving little things for you to find throughout the play area. Little handmade cards with endearing notes. Paper roses folded neatly by your belongings. 

It tore you up inside, mainly because you knew what this all was leading up to, and you were almost dreading having to tell them. It wasn't that you didn't care for them. You really, truly did. A lot. So much. 

But not like that. Not at this point, that is. Sure, maybe it was possible, but at the current moment, the idea of such just made you feel, off. 

So when Sun came up to you near the middle of your shift, something hiding behind his back, you already had a guess as to what it was. 

Before he said anything, he seemed to pause, almost deflating upon getting closer to you. 

You speak first, trying to keep your tone light. "Everything alright, Sunny?"

"Of course, Sunbeam!" Still, he keeps his hands behind his back. "But, is everything alright with you?"

You nod with a smile. "Of course. I'm just a little tired is all."

"Oh... are you sure? You've seemed a bit, upset all week long. Would you... like to talk about it?"

Your brows raise, both in surprise and in fear that you'd been found out. "I, no, that's okay! It's not um, something I really want to talk about right now."

"Right. Of course." He steps back, then another, then turns around but manages to keep whatever he was holding hidden from you. "Well, enjoy your break, friend!" 

He walks off then, before you can stop him, and your heart sinks a bit. 

The rest of the day proves to be, incredibly stressful. The party for the kids goes great, but it leaves you with a terrible disaster to clean up. It sours your mood more than you expected, especially after finding the mess of glitter glue hiding underneath one of the tables, you spend nearly thirty minutes scrubbing on your hands and knees to get it cleaned up. And when you emerge you remember all the rest of the clean up you still have to do, stressing you out even further.

With a sigh and a stretch to crack your back, you trudge over to where the trash is and deposit the used paper towels into it. You turn around to get back to work, but are shocked to find Sun standing there, looking a bit cheered up compared to your last 'official' conversation earlier. 

"Hello Sunshine!" 

You smile, tired. "Hi, Sun. Need something?"

"It's not what I need, but rather, what you need, friend." He pokes your chest once, rays spinning. "I have a little surprise for you. If you'll accept." 

Your brow furrows. This seems a bit different than earlier, so you're curious. "Oh?"

"Yup! Now come on!" He takes both your hands and starts pulling you out of the Daycare, heading in the direction of the theater, you in tow. 

You don't protest physically, too tired and stressed—as you quickly realize—but do speak up about it. "Woah! What about cleanup?"

"Clean up can wait! You obviously don't feel well, and we need to fix that immediately!" Sun pushes open the theater doors with his back, leading you inside. "And Moon and I have just the thing for it."

After your eyes adjust to the lighting, you're surprised to see there's a film pulled up on the large screen, with a couple of beanbags and blankets piled near the middle of the room. There's a smell of popcorn in the air that makes your mouth water. 

Sun finally stops once you're over by the beanbags, pushing you to sit down in one, covering you with a blanket once you comply. He sets a bag of popcorn and a couple boxes of candies in your lap. When he's done he pats your head and sits down in a bean bag not too far from you. But you do note it's not his usual spot beside you, but you let it go as he claps his hands. 

His rays spin. "Ready to get started? This is just for you, but we went ahead and took the liberty of picking the first film."

"I, yeah, I guess so. Thank you guys, I uh, needed a break." You take a bite of popcorn and turn to look at the screen. "More than I expected—Is this 'Valentine's Day'?!" You almost choke from your laughter. 

"Of course! It seemed fitting, and the reviews we read were very passionate!"

You shake your head, settling in. "Passionate is the key word there, I think."

The film passes by quicker than you'd expect, chatting with Sun every so often to explain why the story makes you laugh so much, explaining what exactly a romcom is, and just in general decompressing from the day. 

They let you pick the next one—with Moon getting to be out to watch this time instead—and you choose another classic bad movie, 'Bride Wars' to keep the theme up. 

Again with Moon though, he keeps his distance from you, settling in a respectable few feet away. Which, you did appreciate in the beginning, after being overwhelmed with the amount of in your face love-dovey stuff the past several weeks. But now, you're feeling, lonely. 

About a quarter of the way into this movie, you decide to speak up, turning to your lunar companion. 

"Hey. What's going on with you guys today?" You ask, reaching a hand over to rest on his. 

Moon flinches, not making eye contact with you. "We're just, we thought, it doesn't matter. We don't want you to be uncomfortable with us, Star."

"Uncomfortable? With you?" You shake your head. "Never. I mean, yeah I was a little worried when—" You stop, realizing it's not helping as he shrinks in on himself. "I, let me explain, I guess."

Moon nods, and you sigh. 

"Romance, just, isn't my thing. Not usually, if ever. I just, I don't really get those feelings for other people. And when it gets constantly shoved down your throat, you start to realize how uncomfortable with it you actually are. Really uncomfortable. I just wanna be me and not feel like I have to be something I'm not, that I can't be." You shake your head again. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I can still feel attraction and the likes, and I, I care about you two a lot. Especially you two. But it's just, not like that? I want to be close with you, be around you all the time, I like your jokes, your teasing, talking to you, but the idea of romance, in general, just, gives me a bit of an ick sometimes, does that all make sense?" You lay back, running a hand through your hair. "I mean, I—I think I'm in love with you both, but not in the way that I have romantic feelings for you? Sorry this is a word vomit of an explanation I'm sorry—"

You feel arms wrap around you, pulling you up into a hug. 

Moon's voice is soft, just a murmur. "We're sorry."

"Moon, it's not on you—"

You can feel him shake his head against you. "Not that. We mean we're sorry you have to deal with that. It's not fair."

"Oh, yeah. I guess so."

He pulls back, hand resting on your cheek as he looks down at you. "We care about you too, a lot. It, doesn't have to be anything more than that. It's enough just to be able to say it. Does that make sense?"

"Y-yeah. It does. More than you know." You feel your face heat up, either from embarrassment or excitement at understanding. You bury your head against his chest. "And as for like, the gifts and stuff, that's still okay. They're still sweet, and they mean a lot. I promise."

Moon snickers. "Sounds like you just enjoy getting things."

"Not true! I really do like it! It's the thought that counts." You protest, now fully embarrassed. 

Moon hugs you a little tighter, humming. "I suppose it is."

💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌

Thank you for the request @starspindle! It was interesting to tackle in that through writing I learned a bit about myself and my own indentity, plus i just enjoy writing hurt/comfort hehe ^^

My writing Masterpost

DCA Valentine's Masterpost

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[marsdql]

through rose-coloured glasses [P.SH] v.2

synopsis: In a naive and trusting relationship with Sunghoon, you continue to give him all your love and attention, never seeing how he slowly pulls away, leaving you unaware of the way he’s using you until it’s too late.

toxic!sunghoon x naive!reader | wc: 1.3k | cw: emotional manipulation, gaslighting, toxic relationships, possessiveness, abuse of power in a relationship, self-doubt , insecurity, mild violence (psychological), themes of control and dependency, angst

Want to see other versions of this drabble? Click here!

The room felt suffocating, thick with a silence that screamed louder than any argument ever could. You sat on the bed, hands trembling in your lap, eyes cast downward. His presence, once a comfort, now felt like a weight pressing on your chest.

Sunghoon stood at the door, his gaze cold and unreadable. He wasn’t looking at you the way he used to. No softness in his eyes, no warmth. Just that sharp, almost bored look that had begun to replace every glance he ever gave you.

“Sunghoon,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper, fighting the lump in your throat. “Have I done something wrong?”

You knew the answer before he even spoke. You could already feel it—the distance, the indifference that had crept in like a disease. But you were desperate for him to say something, anything that would make sense of the emptiness growing between you two.

His lips twisted into something that almost resembled a smirk, but it lacked any real emotion. “You’re acting weird,” he said flatly, his voice holding a dismissive edge. “Nothing’s wrong. Stop overthinking.”

Your chest tightened as he spoke, the words sinking deeper than they should. Acting weird? Was this really where you had ended up? After everything, this was how he saw you now? As someone who was just “acting weird,” as if your feelings didn’t matter. As if you didn’t matter.

“I just feel like you’ve been pulling away,” you said quietly, your heart aching in the silence that followed. “Like… you don’t want to be around me anymore.”

His eyes flickered, but it was more irritation than concern. He sighed, his gaze flicking to the floor as if you were the last thing on his mind. “You’re so dramatic,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck like he was somehow annoyed with your very existence. “You think I’m pulling away? I’m just tired. Stop making it into a bigger deal.”

You flinched, the words cutting deeper than you wanted to admit. You had always tried to please him, to make him happy. But here he was, dismissing your feelings like they were nothing. Like you were nothing.

“I miss you,” you whispered, the words barely escaping your lips as your throat tightened. “I miss the way we used to talk… the way you used to look at me.”

He tilted his head, his gaze icy, as if the sentiment you shared meant nothing to him anymore. “You’re acting needy,” he said bluntly, his voice almost harsh. “I told you, I’ve been busy. Stop acting like I’m supposed to drop everything for you every time you get upset.”

The sting of his words was almost unbearable. You had hoped he would soften, that he would at least show you a sliver of the affection he used to have for you. But all you saw was a cold stranger wearing the face of the person you once loved.

“I’m not trying to be needy,” you whispered, swallowing back the pain. “I just… I just want you to talk to me. I want you to be here.”

Sunghoon didn’t answer right away. Instead, he moved closer, but his touch was different now. It was colder, more distant. His fingers brushed against your arm in a way that felt almost like an obligation rather than affection. You felt the shift in the air, the absence of the warmth you once relied on.

“You’re too soft,” he said, voice barely above a murmur. “Too sensitive. I don’t need this right now.”

The words stung, but you had been hearing them more and more. You were too much. Too clingy. Too emotional. You were everything that Sunghoon didn’t want anymore, even though you had never changed. You hadn’t stopped loving him. You hadn’t stopped caring. But he had.

“I just want you to love me the way you used to,” you whispered, a tear escaping before you could stop it. “I just want to feel like I matter.”

His eyes flickered for a moment, but it was only for a fraction of a second. It was like he was bored with you now, like you were just a part of his past he was no longer interested in holding onto.

“Stop acting like I owe you something,” he snapped, his voice sharper now, harder. “You’re not the center of my universe, angel. You’re not the only thing that matters.”

The words hit you like a slap. You were nothing to him. Just a person he used to care about, a person he had no use for anymore. It wasn’t love. It was never love. It was just him feeding off your trust, your affection, and now he had drained you dry.

You stood up, your legs shaky, your heart breaking in ways you didn’t think were possible. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, the words feeling like a lie. You weren’t sorry. You weren’t sorry for loving him. You weren’t sorry for wanting him. You were only sorry that you had given him everything, and he had thrown it all away.

Sunghoon didn’t even look at you. He didn’t care. He had already turned away, already walking toward the door, not sparing you a second glance.

“I’m going out,” he said, his voice cold, almost robotic. “Don’t wait up.”

[notebooks-and-laptops]

Okay so. It seems I'm in the minority about not liking the Spike-With-A-Soul plot. I've not really interacted with the Buffy fandom before this so its wild to me this is how people view it. Because the thing is...

Buffy is at its best, always, when it rejects the concept of ontological evil Vs good and of all the shows from that era (charmed is a big one that comes to mind) I think Buffy when it got a few seasons under its belt was one of the best shows at rejecting the ontological evil Vs ontological good mindset despite the fact that it's a monster of the week show. Oz, Buffy, Faith, Spike, Buffy, Willow, Harmony, Xander, Riley, Anya, Warren, Jonathan, Andrew - all of these characters are continuously used to show moral complexity, particularly that goodness is a choice and what does it mean to be a harm to others?

And spike epitomises that. He is the monster who suddenly had to deal with not being allowed to kill people; which led him to form bonds (particularly with Buffy and Dawn, but I'd argue he makes bonds with the rest of the Scoobies bar maybe Xander too) which led him into empathy and trying to do good even when it came at his own expense. There is this lingering question by season 6 with spike; if you removed his chip would he go back to how he was in season 2? Would he kill and maime and torture, or would he make the choice to be good just like the rest of the Scoobies have to do daily even when giving in would be easier.

And I think spike would have a wobble sure, very Anya esque in that regard, but I think he'd ultimately just like Anya NOT find it easy to go back to being 'evil' after having his chip removed even without a soul. And the lore implications to that are FACINATING and way cooler to explore than like. Soul = good, not soul = bad.

And also...I know people are like 'he was irredmiable after seeing red so it had to happen so we could like him again' but uhhhh that's actually one of the reasons I DONT like spike getting a soul. It really feels like the writers wanted a cop out, a way for us to go on shipping and engaging with Spuffy and absolve Spike. See he did a terrible thing but he can still be your pathetic little favourite wet man because we gave him a get out of jail free card! And that's just...kinda nothing to me? I mean sure he worked for that soul, did the trials, but it's not the same as actively having to deal with doing a terrible, unforgivable thing and where you go from there. It's just. It feels so cheap. Like they wanted the 'edgy, brutal' scene but they didn't ACTUALLY want the consequences so oops he's got a soul now don't worry about it he can still be your fav little guy. (And yeah, I mean. I do think the writers would have struggled with spike after seeing red if they didn't do something drastic - but if they weren't willing to grapple with it they shouldn't have done it, otherwise it just feels even more ick to me ya know.)

Idk I like season 7 for what it is but I think ultimately it was a backslide from so many interesting things set up in season 6, even willow kinda goes back to having good Vs bad sides rather than just being a complex individual with capacity for both. And spike is the Biggie for me because I'd have MUCH rather had the plot of 'buffy removes spikes chip and trusts that he's become a better person and doesn't need it anymore' than 'spike has a soul now so he's chill'. Also I think it would have made his plot with the first and potential killing waaaaay more engaging if they hadn't been able to write it off with 'but he has a SOUL now'.

(I think a really interesting plot would have been everyone THINKS spike has a soul even spike but it turns out he DOESNT and what the fuck does THAT mean?)

[k0k0-library]

MDNI: I lost my Love. Can I have yours, Comrade?

Pairing: Tartaglia x F! Reader

Fandom: Genshin Impact

Rating: 18+

Warnings: menntions of soft sex, cuteness overload from our good red fox, cunnilingus or however the fuck you write it as, slight breeding king, but not really, harbinger on the loose being a simp, mention of y/n because I was never over my ao3 erra, minor character death

You are the traveller in this one, you're a womam, deal with it

It was a sunny summer morning in Lyiue. You woke up from a restless slumber, as Paimon was already complaining about the heat. "Paimon didn't remember the Harbour being this steamy last time we were here." You giggled slightly, putting on your skirt over your undergarments; the little fae was right. Liyue really did get more hot than the last time you were here for your adventure with the Carp Adeptus. But that is a story for another time, my dear. The sun was shining brighter than usually, the incoming warmth, or rather heat, was making itself felt from morning. This was going to be a long day, wasn’t it, traveler?

The two of you went outside, still groggy after a not-so-good night's sleep and made your way to Wangming Restaurant to see if you could buy something for 200 mora. In the weird economy of the land of the geo archon, you could never know what 200 mora might get you: a fried egg or an entire old-style house. Stay tuned to find out! The economy in this nation was horrible, truly. Imagine not knowing how much something will cost the next day or how much inflation and deflation will last; horror, pure and utter horror.

As Paimon's mouth salivated over the fresh fruit salad and cremmy tea puffs, your stomach was crying and your wallet was embarrassed to even show face to other people. "300 mora for a fish cutlet?! This is obscene!" You hear some cummon passerby say intrigued. Obscene indeed. Paimon was tugging at your hand like a child begging you to get something good to eat. You didn't had the heart to tell her the both of you were broker than Zhongli. Ah, how much you wanted to go back to those simpler times, when people didn’t knew you and you and Paimon would sleep under the stars, eating sunsetias and skewers, and didn’t had so many things on your mind, didn’t know the dark secrets of Teyvat.

You heard an all too well known whistle, you didn't even had to turn aroud to confirm your suspicions on who it was. "Oh? What do my favourite ladies want to eat this morning?" Tartaglia, Childe, Ajax, 11th of the Fatui Harbingers (regardless of the free spots in the mafia), and all time pretty boy was back in Lyiue. Sometimes, you felt like he was following you around, but you couldn't really say he followed you in Natalan from what you know. And he wasn’t in Monstadt… but Liyue, Inazuma, Fontaine were on his checklist, and you could only guess that he also was spying on you in Sumeru through Dottore’s eyes.

"Childe!" Paimon chanted in a sing-song voice, excited to be telling him all about your travels since you parted ways in Fontain's Court Room. He gave you his wallet and gave you the heads up to order whatever you wanted as he took your companion to one of the tables. After ordering and grabbing the plates, you went to them.

You nodded slowly and sat down. You still had his vision, who was stupid enough to ever lose, missplace or sell a vision. Not you, not ever. You told him you left it at your room at the Harbour with your blade and Paimons plushie. "A plushie-" "Mavuika gifted her a plushie to make the parting better." He sighed deeply, it was clear that the whole shabam with Natalan was not a good thing for him. After all, his idol, his master and maybe friend has lost his life to the Kingdom of Night, forever condemned to forever guard the Throne of Flames.

"So? What brings you back here?"

"I could ask you the same thing, girlie. Still got my vision on you by any chance?"

While you and Paimon ate confused he told you everything that he knew. Aparently, the God of Love was growing more weary of the harbingers and was afraid that if she allowed the strong ones to continue on, they will riot against her. So she was sending them off to suicide missions like she did with La Signora, drove them to insanity like she did with the Wondered (you thought), and now cursed Capitano and forced his soul into the Night Knigdom to guide the lost souls. But souls will forever get lost there. It was like the problem imposed by Oroboros, an all powerful snake. Childe didn’t knew more than he already told you.

"So, you met Capitano... I believe you were surprised of what happened?"

"Why?"

"Because the Tsaritsa wanted him dead for a long while"

The God of Love and Compassion loosing herself to doubt and hunger for power was something inimaginable at first, but you remembered Venti’s and Zhongli’s words, as well as Mona’s. The ones that love the most will one day turn as cold as ice and will start to hurt not only others but themselves also… In other words, the Tsaritsa was destined to go mad with fear and hate. Her people, her believers… were they going to be ok?

"So, you see... since the Tsaritsa sees me as powerful, I have to hide back in Lyiue again. Here, the Fatui can't reach me easily since the area was cleared long ago by you." He slowly sipped from his tea cup. He tried not to show it, but he was scared that death was waiting at his doorstep at home. Or maybe he would die with honour, but he could never make his family mourn or suffer from the loss of his life. Yes, this seemed more like it, the ginger man was always thinking of his family before anything else.

"So this means that you are now stuck here? For eternity?" Paimon inquiered with her mouth stuffed with sweet red bean paste buns. Childe nodded. "Well, not really eternity. I'm still just a man, you know? I'll live maybe to 60 or 70 years considering how many wounds I have had all these years... One of my hands already started to get too stiff, you know?" He emphasised his words by trying to flex his left fist, but his hand moved hardly, his palm convulsing for a second before allowing him to close his fist.

You wanted to reach out and hold his hand, to reassure him to comfort him in a way. To loose something as simple as free mobility in a hand from this age was hurtful to watch, let alone actually experiencing it. Tartaglia was a strong man, hiding his emotions and feelings from everyone around him. Yeah… definitely he didn’t want to put pressure or concern his family. You wondered what lie he told his parents and his little siblings for them to not even question his sudden return to the land of the Geo Archon.

___________

After you ate and talked some more, Paimon decided to go back to the room you two had near the harbour and take a small nap. She was teribly tired after the long walk from Natalan to Lyiue; and to be entirely honest, you were as well. But of course, you chose to spend some time with the redhair instead, not knowing when exactly you'd see him next. He was like a wild fox, fast and cunning, always hiding himself in the shadows until he'll strike again and capture the mouse or hen he wishes to eat. But was he going to be able to hunt again like the predator he was raised as? Was Tartaglia going to be ok laying low under the radar?

Was the Tsaritsa really this heartless? To kill her most precious soldiers?

It seemed horrible. Absolutely horibble! But it was the cruel truth: from the predator, Childe became the pray in a matter of days, weeks, heck even months! But, the archon did seem insane enough to have considered this form the beginning, planing the intricate deaths of all her dear harbingers. Why else would she let them fail almost all missions… and, in first instances, Signora and Childe were the only ones who retrieved the gnosises without too much trouble. You were the trouble, in a way, but much more weaker and inexperienced than now. Were you the reason why everything was happening? Why people died?

The sun was shining brightly, and it was humid outside, the heat even more unbearable as you walked with the harbinger near the Quingxu Pool. He invited you to take a stroll around the Lisha, but found yourselves walking for a couple of hours now. "Y/N, I... I was going to ask you if you're any closer to finding your brother? I know how much family means to you. " Ah, he read you like an open book. "Well, to be honest, we did meed a couple of times and we talked. I even have a picture with him but i don't remember ever taking it..."

That was curious really. Not remembering a fond memory with your lost twin, yet remembering everything you and Childe did together. It seemed like you were a traitor. He didn't judge you though. He held your hand and lead you to the pool, trying to pull you in. He climbed up the trees and got fresh sunsetias for you. He even collected some nice and shiny pebbles from the deeper ends of the Pool just so he could give them to you. "The lake isn't even that deep, girlie. You just have to get in! It's more fun-" He tried to reason with you, but you still refused him, vehemently. Not after seeing Ferminet almost loose himself in the Primordial waters.

And so you followed him. The water almost instantly got colder, giving you goosebumps as soon as it hit your skin. You shivered slightly, feeling the sand slip loose from under your feet, you had to rely now simply on yourself to stay afloat. Now, when did Childe get soo good at swimming? You didn't remember him being so good? Or maybe his little predicament with the All Devouring Narwhal changed him more than you thought. The water was like an ice bucket, the complete opposite of the weather outside. If you were going to get sick from this, you’d kill him.

"A traveller afraid of a little challange?"

"Wll, you didn't challange me, Mr.~"

"Fine, then I challange you to swim with me in the deeper ends" Now, a traveller not accepting a challenge was like a watch not telling you the time… And so,…

You finally were almost next to him, the redhead inviting you to dive in with a smile. You took in a large breath and dove underwater. Your head, dried and overheated by the sun, met with the cold, refreshing gust of waters that got in between your locks. You wanted to shriek from the sudden change in temperature, but you couldn’t, not right now anyways. You felt a hand gently wrapping around your upper arm, and tugging at it, like telling you to follow it. Childe, the ever-so-gentleman that he was, allowed you to hook around him as the two of you dove deeper and further into the water. At this rate you were going to drown! You needed air at some point and you were anxious about getting out in time for it! You squirmed in protest, as you saw he wasn’t even thinking about the obvious like you did. He held you closer to himself, your head pressed to his chest allowing you to feel the steady and slow rhythm of his heartbeat to calm down. You felt the water pressure getting lighter and lighter.

You realised he brought you to the surface only when the sun mercilessly burned the top of your head and you opened your eyes reluctantly. You laid on top of the ginger harbinger as he floated, smiling up at the sky. “Scared ya? Don’t worry, milyy. I’d never let you drown, get pierced my a hilichurl’s arrow or shredded by the claws of a saurus.” You really didn’t want him to notice the blush dusted darkly on your face, but you were sure he did notice it. Even someone as oblivious to love as paimon would. His words were more than a comfort told to cool the waters (pun intended); he actually meant everything he told you, which warmed your heart more than the heatwave was already doing it.

“You’re staring, girlie…”

“And are you complaining, Mr. Tortellini?”

Not even 2 seconds after you called him that, he twisted his body to the side, making you fall in the water unexpectedly as he laughed like a hiena at your futile attempt to bring him down with you. You both held each other in a kind of far embrace and laughed at the absurdity of it all, life being so hard, yet the two of you playing in the water like two kids that did not yet learned about the cruelty of the world and how vile some people could be. You were two kids playing, two kids having fun and two kids falling in love with one another… Falling in love, in this economy?! (Sorry I had to make the joke), but no really, falling in love in this situation, with him of all people could lead to only pain. Will it be more painful to never tell him, or to live with loving him only for him to die so easily so suddenly…

You were conflicted, deep down, your mind not fully allowing you to feel happy about this moment with Childe. How about a brain factory reset, traveler? Only 2 trillion mora, only for you. Buy one get one for free-

“Y/N, you look so pretty with your hair all wet like that, you know? The prettiest girl ever, my milyy” The harbinger suddenly said as he places a butterfly kiss on your cheek, his hands slowly going further up your arms, now grasping your shoulders lightly. You knew that part of this gentleness of his was due to the join pain he felt… You felt bad for him, feeling the need to hold him even tighter and tell him you loved him more than anything. But will you? Risking everything, your friendship and your memories with him only because you were selfish and you wanted him to offer more of his heart than he already had? It was a horrible thing to do: confessing to another human. Horrible, but more than that horrifying. What if he didn’t just said no, but felt so disgusted and used by you that he would tell you to go fuck your self, stay away from him for 100, no 1000 years in this and the next lives that will come.

“Aren’t you going to tell me anything, girlie? You’ve been staring at that poor calla lily for the past 10 minutes…” And answer, he wanted an answer from you. But to what question.

“I don’t think I can tell you.

“Then I’ll wait for that answer: 100, no…. One thousand years I’ll wait for your answer in this and the next lives to come.” His grasp on your shoulders was more powerful and meaningful, he wanted you -- he needed you to answer him and to tell him you felt the same, didn’t he?

You just smiled and sighed with a slight shake of your head. This man will be the death of you, that was for sure. Either from his cuteness, from his devotion to you or from a brutal future spar. Though, you did help the later doesn't happen ever again. You still had bad dreams about what happened at the Golden House.

All this time, all this mother fucking time that you two had spent together in an awkward-ish way that mutual pining people do; he belived you two were a couple. Genuinely belived you were a thing?! Sir how dare you not be more obvious for this sweet little traveler. A big part of you was reliefed he felt the same, but there was a tiny part that was confused. You never gave him signals that you even liked him romantically, yet he believed you two were together. The 11th Fatui Harbinger was a very stange man, a cold and unforgiving person, yet he protects his family and loves them all with his very being. And now you learn he loves you; maybe just as much.

"I think I am in love with you, Childe..."

"Of course you are, we're together-"

"What?"

Childe gently cupped your cheeks in his hands and slowly pulled you in for a kiss. You didn't fight it, not one bit as you let yourself go soft in his arms. Not a thought between your eyes as his rough, yet warm lips glide against yours in a slow dragged out way. It felt good, having him here like this with you in the water. "You cannot believe how much I've wanted to kiss you, milah, but you always act so cold.."

You didn't know how and you didn't know when; but the red haired man brought you both back to the lake shore. You were still drunken by the kiss, as the lack of cold water around you made you instantly warm up to un uncomfortable level. You gently pushed him away to take a deep breath in and calm your senses. Or rather tried to come back to your senses, but you were drunk. You were so drunken by this man.

Well, how can anyone not let a cute fox like him take a bite when he asks so politely?

"Childe-"

"Please let me love you, Y/N~"

______________

When you've gone back to your place by the harbour it was already late at night and you found Paimon waiting for you by the porch, with a cup of chilled tea and a few sweets. She looked like she waited for you for quite a bit. The still partially wet hair, dusted cheeks and crampled damp clothes were signs that something did happen between you and the Harbinger. But Paimon was never one to ask you something like this, and definitely she wasn't judging; she was just worried you came home late.

"I promise I'll come back before sundown next time-" You half-appologised like a pre-teen girl caught out with her boyfriend. And what a boyfriend you now had: one that knows how to make your mind foggy with pleasure as he laps at your folds, one that gently kisses you as he puts it in the first time and caresses your cheek as you let out soft sobs or when he spils deeply into you.

Tartaglia was a rough man that used to fight tooth to tooth with anyone who dared to even look at him the wrong way. He was never the type of man to show affection to anyone, his family members were the only ones he used to care about and protect. But now he has you, now that changed forever. Or at least... you hoped that it will last forever.

[eldritch-spouse]

Ok idk if I'm onto something or if this is something that's already been explored but imagine this:

You are a spy. A rather good one. You're well known and sought after both for your abilities, but also your ability at blending in and being "overlooked." You're so meek and underwhelming looking that most people don't tend to look twice at you.

And it works out perfectly, because then no one ever sees you coming.

No one, not even your clients, have ever seen your face, so you have anonymity on your side, and an uncanny ability to sneak into places and "blend in," whether you disguise yourself as a staff member, or as a bumbling bystander. No one sees you. No one knows you. To everyone, you're a ghost.

Anyway, you are hired to gather intel and plant some evidence on some high ranking pride demon. Ok, whatever. No big deal. You've done this before plenty of times, and you've had plenty of experience hiding both your scent and your expertise so that not even a high ranking demon will be suspicious of you.

You infiltrate one of the galas that they're hosting at their mansion (an event so posh and full of people with sticks up their asses that you almost feel out of place. Almost). Disguised as one of the caterers, you work the event, waiting for an opportunity. Your opportunity.

You slip away at the right time, make your way through the hallways in the massive structure, eyes already scanning for possible escape routes in case things went south.

Little did you know, while you were working, you somehow caught someone's eye. You, who have always been known as plain and simple looking, easy to overlook and ignore, caught the eye of a certain pride demon contracted as security to guard both the event and the high-ranker.

He notices you. Keeps noticing you, and almost neglects his own duties to hover in your general radius, feeling an indescribable pull and fixation on you.

It gets stronger when you notice him hovering, and you smile at him. Offer him first dibs of the untouched hors d'oeuvres platter you're carrying. You only speak a few words to him, asking if there was anything you could bring or help him with. That you hope he has a nice night.

He can't explain it. Something about you is intriguing, even if you are just a lowly food service worker. He could mold you into someone worthy of him, though. Turn you into the very essence of grace and elegance. Or, he could just keep you at his apartment, happy and waiting for him to return so he could...

Wait.

He realizes that you're slinking away, face carefully neutral but eyes sharp. Focused.

No one even seems to notice you're gone. He didn't even realize you were leaving until you were halfway down the back hall.

Without catching unneeded (and frankly, unwanted) attention from his client and his entourage, Mervin follows. He trails a healthy distance away, ensuring you can't see him, hear him, notice him.

You're probably just going to the bathroom, and he's probably being a bit of a creep right? That thought sticks in his mind. But I mean, he's got a job to do, so he might as well make sure you won't stick your nose where it doesn't belong. And, even if you're going to the bathroom what's the harm in waiting for you outside? You should be grateful he's even giving you the time of day.

Mervin's already planning what he'll say, how he'll attempt to garner your attention and awe, how he'll justify following a girl to the restroom (and preserve his pride) when he realizes you just walked past the restroom.

Huh. He doesn't even want to think about the possibility that maybe you are the reason he was hired in the first place. That you are the person he's supposed to annihilate.

Soft, pretty, unsuspecting you.

Well, either way, maybe he could put a positive spin on this.

As you find the room you've been looking for, a locked and secure office that you easily bypass (so quickly and efficiently that even Mervin is caught off guard), Mervin thinks to himself, smirking as he readies his sai.

He could beat you in a fight. Most definitely. And after that, you couldn't stop him from doing (and taking) what he wanted. After all, you're not even supposed to be here, and he really is the lesser evil in this scenario.

Perhaps you'll even thank him.

No, I don't think we've ever had a scenario like that, mostly because up until now, the dynamic with Mervin has relied on reader not having much insight regarding the world of calculated assassinations and spying.

This is an interesting concept because it definitely sparks a competitive side in Mervin. Your cards would have to be played very right however, because even if you display skill, he'll still want to keep you safe and sound somewhere regardless. You'll wrestle with feelings of frustration and he'll attempt to instill a sense of inferiority in you to keep you right in his palm.

You can definitely try to prove him wrong and keep escaping. You're a spy, after all, can Mervin truly keep you locked away?

[babybearnation]

Hey bear I would like to submit an official event request for headcanons for Pato, Jack, Liam, Marcus, Callum and Christian Mansell with a gn partner with anxiety or autism please

Also the day I became 🥔 anon I had potatoes for dinner so that was fun ❤️

🥔 anon

dude, i'm irish, i fucking love potatoes. please keep in mind that i am not autistic, therefore i am basing the autism section off of a few friends/family members, as well as my own sensitivities with textures & foods, etc. also i know i said only one idea per ask but i liked both options so much that i'm doing both :D

this got long, so everything is under the cut!

gn!reader with anxiety:

pato o'ward:

an actual sweetheart who will never make you feel bad

if you need some time alone, he'll reluctantly give you it, but if there's any way he can stay with you whilst you're going through an anxious spell or an anxiety attack, you best bet he's staying there

he'll hide you from the camera crews and try and make it seem like he's just loving on you, rather than shielding you from the world

if you have any anxious habits that upset you like biting your nails or scratching at yourself, pato will spend ages googling and working on ways to prevent you from making yourself feel worse

genuinely such a sweetheart who will drop everything for you if you start having an anxiety attack

jack doohan:

jack probably knows what its like to have anxiety considering his family and the legacy he has to somewhat live up to

therefore, he's gonna be really sweet and patient with you and your struggles

he may not understand what triggers your anxiety attacks, but you best bet he'll figure out every single way he can calm you down

he refuses to let you feel bad for your anxiety and he will not let you apologise to him for any anxiety attacks you may have

definitely tries to create a safe space for you in alpine's hospitality because he totally understands the desire to hide away and if he can offer you a safe version of that, he will

liam lawson:

aint nobody fucking with his baby when you have an anxiety attack

have you seen this man's glare? he's not letting anyone get close to you and make things worse for you, no fucking way

much like pato, he'd probably be reluctant to leave you alone but if you're in his driver's room, he's a bit less reluctant because he knows that's a safer space for you to hide that just a random side path in the paddock

if you need something of his to help calm down, he will eagerly hand it over. his hoodie? here you go. his shirt? he will walk halfway across the paddock shirtless to go get another one if he needs to. his phone? you'll let him know if anyone important calls.

biggest defender and protector of you and your privacy and safety

marcus armstrong:

must be a kiwi thing because i just KNOW this man be glaring at any camera crews or reporters who try and interrupt him whilst he's with you mid-panic attack

he will literally employ his friends (callum, robert, his teammates at MSR, etc.) to help protect you

it might be obsessive but he always checks that you're okay 5+ times before he gets in the car because he doesn't want you to go into an anxiety attack without him or his friends there to help you

if he needs to, he will educate everyone in MSR or hell, even the entire indycar paddock, on how to deal with anxiety attacks and what to do if you have one

he is SERIOUS about his job as your boyfriend and ain't no one hurtin' his BABY

callum ilott:

callum will be so fucking gentle and delicate with you

the last thing he'd wanna do is exacerbate the problem so when you're mid anxiety attack, he'll whisper soothing words to you, his touch is soft and gentle, and he never treads too far or too fast, afraid to startle and upset you

like marcus, callum will make sure prema knows how to take care of you before the season starts just in case an anxiety attack comes when he's busy doing media or off racing

he's also not afraid to sprint halfway across the paddock to get you anything you need. water? he's finding the nearest fresh source. his hoodie? already retrieved it from his driver's room just for you

he will go above and beyond to make sure you are safe and happy and you're not struggling - that's the very last thing he wants :(

chistian mansell:

he's already fully prepared to help you way before he even met you because he just seems like the kind of guy who'd want to help anyone out any way he can, even if he doesn't know them

he's very ready and willing to drop everything for you - he'd probably even refuse to get in the car if you were mid-anxiety attack or something which makes you stress out even more bcuz PLEASE get in the fucking car, this is your JOB christian

after that, i think he'll work hard to make sure something like that doesn't happen again - he'll help you develop coping mechanisms or he'll ensure that there are staff members who can help you

if anyone has the SLIGHTEST negative piece to say about your anxiety, he will not hesitate to call them out. fuck outta here with that bs

is not afraid to employ the help of pepe marti and have the two of them make massive fools of themselves if it means you'll laugh and smile and calm down - he'll do it, don't test him!

autistic!gn!reader:

pato o'ward:

once again, pato is a sweetheart, let that be known, hear ye hear ye

this man has about 8 bajillion copies of your comfort items. stim toys, chew toys, headphones, hoodies, plushies - whatever you need, he's got 14 variants in his driver's room alone.

if you find the paddock too overwhelming, pato will never force you to go and he will get the best laptop with the best streaming service for his races so that way you can watch at your own comfort level, even though you're literally in the hotel near the track

pato can be quite loud and chaotic, but he's always so careful with you and he will not be afraid to tell people to shut the fuck up if they are being too much

is so down for your weighted blanket, i just know he finds it really relaxing and grounding after a tough race

jack doohan:

jack is so down to just yap at you if you want that when you go non or semiverbal, im not even joking

even though he's clearly not that important in the eyes of alpine, he'll try and get pierre to get alpine to make a nicer material for his team kit that way the texture doesn't upset you

if you find that touching or playing or fiddling with the hair, clothes or accessories of another person calms you down, he's willing to let you fiddle away (he'll apologise a BILLION times over for shaving his hair if you liked playing with it)

jack is pretty friendly and nice, but he will quickly become vicious if anyone upsets or mocks you. he will straight up not tolerate that shit at all

willing to do whatever it takes to make you comfortable when coming to the race track but he knows how loud it is so he won't ever, at all, force you to go with him if you're not comfortable doing so

liam lawson:

gets obsessed with your special interests/hyperfixations because he loves listening to you talk about them and he'll end up sharing any relevant fun facts you teach him with his fellow drivers/his team

he knows unfamiliar touch can be scary to you so he'll warn literally EVERYONE that they have to be careful around you - he refuses to potentially put you in a situation where you get overwhelmed or have a meltdown because that is the last thing he wants

speaking of meltdowns, he's really good at helping you calm down from them - he knows all the right things to say or not say, he knows which comfort items help you calm down quickest and he's even willing to let you scratch at him if that's something that helps calm you down

ll30 merch will be the comfiest, most friendly-to-you merch ever because he wants to see you rocking his fit and he refuses to let you be uncomfortable when you do

if anyone is weirded out by your stim toys, he'll start fucking using them himself to normalise it. he's not letting you be judged just for how you deal with the world

marcus armstrong:

this man will change his whole life to suit both yours and his needs because he loves you so much and he's not gonna let you suffer

he gives off chews on plastic vibes so if he catches you chewing random bits of plastic or chew toys/jewellery, he's chill - that's cool to him. as long as you're safe, of course

he never hugs you whilst he's wearing his race suit. those things are uncomfortable as hell for him, therefore he can't imagine what it would feel like for you and he refuses to find out without your explicit consent

will shit talk fellow drivers or even the reporters if any of them are rude about you. he does not care at all and he never will

if you're a biter, you can bite him. he likes it. he won't make it sexual if you don't but if you do, he's not complaining at all.

callum ilott:

always carries your headphones in a special case that way, should you need them, they'll be a) easily identifiable and b) kept safe and secure, usually in the bottom of his bag

always willing to change clothes if they make you uncomfortable. in fact, he might even go so far as to throw them out and replace them because what's the point in wearing certain clothes if his baby can't hug him whilst he's in them?

will prep all his friends and staff members on how to make sure you don't get overwhelmed and what to do if you are and he isn't there to comfort you

your meltdowns scare him because you seem so upset and so hurt and he hates that. he hates you being hurt and so meltdowns are really difficult for him (obviously, he knows they are more difficult for you, but he can't help how he feels)

every race weekend he attends without you will end up with him coming home with a handful of gifts that he knows you'll like - plushies if you like em, sweets & candies & treats that he knows are your comfort foods, etcetc.

christian mansell:

well prepared KING - he's got everything you need the second you tell him you need it

he doesn't really have a huge say in how his team kit is designed so if it's an uncomfortable texture for you, he'll try and stay out of it for as long as possible to avoid upsetting you

if there's certain foods you cannot stand to be in the same room as, he'll make sure that everyone knows not to bring it near him or his driver's room - if he has to lie and say you're allergic for people to take it seriously, then so be it

if you go nonverbal and just make little noises instead of speaking, he will very quickly pick up on your nonverbal language system and be able to decipher it damn near flawlessly

christian is another driver who is not afraid to yell at other drivers or, if he's comforting you, he'll get pepe to go and do it for him instead - he's not letting anyone disrespect you

© all rights to babybearnation 2025.

[lux-scriptum]

I had to go DIGGING for this, but here, have Cadoc's introduction to the infamous, beloved, adored, dead Dante. This is set some time?? in the 80's? my timeline is. Wonky.

~~~

“Hey!”

Cadoc hunched his shoulders and moved to the side to get out of the person’s way. No one should be that energetic at... he glanced at his watch. One in the afternoon. Still indecent, he decided.

“Hey. Wait.” Someone grabbed his wrist. He flicked a glance down at the hand. Cadoc was pale enough that the man’s brown skin probably looked a few shades darker than it was. He lifted his gaze up to meet the strangers dark gaze.

“What?” 

“Jeeze you’re cold.” The short man was puffing a little. “And fast. You must be half leg at least.” The smile that was offered was blinding. 

“Your point?” Cadoc didn’t have time for this. He pulled his hand from the stranger's grip, finding surprisingly little resistance. 

The young man stared for a moment, before blurting out, “Can I paint you?” Some of Cadoc’s annoyance must have shown, because the stranger was quick to add, “Please? It’s for an art class. I need... I need to do studies of strangers, and... please?”

The guy was cute. Cadoc had to give him that. And he knew how to widen those eyes just right. Combined with the adorable mop of dark curls and soft face, it would have been an effective look on anyone else. 

“No.” Cadoc walked away.

“But!” 

Cadoc kept walking, lengthening his stride rather than deal with the stranger. Any other day and he might have considered it. Aalis took precedence.

Not five minutes later and he felt it again. The feeling of a hand wrapping around his wrist, and the softest of pulls. He snapped his attention to the owner of the hand, resisting the urge to flash his fangs at the human. It was tempting, to see if the young man would jump, perhaps even fall over in his fright, and leave Cadoc free to go on his way unhindered. No doubt it would leave the ridiculous fake mustache the boy was wearing even more skewed than it was now.

“Let go of me,” Cadoc ordered, much more calmly than he felt. The human did, to his surprise, holding his hands up un defeat.

“Please, if you would-”

“No.” Cadoc walked away. He didn't have time for this, no matter how pretty the man’s face was. His reprieve this time was longer, but when the young man showed up this time, it was from the front. He was panting, as if he'd run to pull ahead. He’d tried a mustache, drawn on this time, with a hat pulled down low over his eyes. Less likely to fall off, Cadoc mused, but just as ridiculous as before.

The stranger opened his mouth, but Cadoc beat him to it. “I said no, and no amount of begging or silly costumes will change my mind. Now get out of my way. I have places to be.”

“Please.” The kid took the hat off. “It doesn’t have to be today. You can pick the time.”

Cadoc stared down at the pleading face and bit back a sigh. Did this kid know how devastating those brown eyes were, or was he oblivious to how effective that expression was? “If I say yes, will you let me on my way?”

“If you’d like me to.” A dazzling grin and the slightest of head tilts that sent his dark curls flopping carelessly into the young man’s face were just as effective. Cadoc almost missed the pleased little thank you that followed questioningly.

“Cadoc,” he supplied, stifling another sigh. Perhaps he gave in too easily, but he could only resist a pretty face for so long. 

“Dante,” the young man offered with yet another smile that, at any other time, might have earned him one back. Today, Cadoc merely leveled him a cool look.

“I’ll find you.” Cadoc’s attention was caught by the hellhound heading back in their direction, ears pricked. It’d found something. “Have a good day, Dante.”

Share an excerpt that involves flirting, romance, or attraction.

Maybe it's an established couple, maybe it's a first kiss, maybe it's two characters who hate each other's guts but love each other's butts. This week, let's share some love 💖

(Smooch-free WIP? Here's last week's writers' chat prompt)

Writeblr Engagement Prompts Overview

[zylphiacrowley]

Origenics

<previous - next>

[dykedvonte]

Jimmy killing himself because he knows he is incapable of living an life without Curly and knows that in the miracle chance they were found and saved they would not let him have contact with Curly and he hates the idea he'd actually have to take responsibility.

Even if he lied, its only a matter of time before Curly is capable of showing or telling what a monster he really is, no matter what delusions tell Jimmy Curly would never do that to him.

He understands that he was the monster in everyone's worse moments but refused to accept that at the end. So he made sure that he died without the possibility of it being actualized as he's the only one that saw death as an escape rather than a release. Jimmy truly didn't believe Curly had anything to escape from even after everything and let him have what he perceived as glory as the sole survivor and thus Captain of the Tulpar.

[amelikos]

Exchange between Lucius and Gibeon in the most recent trailer.