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moonchild9350 · 30 days ago

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The Manor

Summary: both you and your boyfriend Chan love haunted houses so you both decide to check out the one in town, but you both find out soon you may get more than you bargained for.

Pairing: Chan x fab!reader, OT8 x reader throughout

Genre: horror, mystery, smut- 18+ MDNI

Word Count: 10.7k

Warnings: presence of spirits/ghosts, attempted drowning, knife play, description of blood, use of blindfolds, violence, description of bruising/assault, poison use, unprotected sex (don’t), creampie, fingering, fear induced arousal, use of guns, attempted strangling, voyerism, mention of stabbing, element of dubcon (one scene), Chan's kind of a dick

Notes: This is it! The last fic for spooktober. I appreciated every kind comment, reblog, etc. throughout this month. Happy Halloween!

Let's see if you can decipher who is who as you read through! Let me know your guesses in the comments or my inbox!

If you enjoyed, please consider a like, reblog, comment as it keeps me motivated ♡

Please do not copy, translate, modify, use, or repost this work elsewhere without my permission. ©moonchild9350 (2024)

“Vengeance is in my heart, death in my hand, blood and revenge are hammering in my head.” -Willam Shakespeare

“The Edge Manor, established in 1876. Prime of its time. A well respected family in the community until tragedy struck in 1896 when Clara Edge was murdered by her lover, within the very rooms of the manor. It is rumored her ghost haunts the manor and has been spotted by many guests who come to seek out the horrors that lie within its walls.”

“Babe, this seems like an adventure! Can we go? Please? Please?” You begged your boyfriend Chan, giving him the best puppy dog eyes you could muster.

You dragged your leg up his, teasing the hairs there as you looked up into his face. You and Chan were avid lovers of anything horror, and that included haunted houses. You both made it a point to visit and see for yourselves if these places were truly disturbed with the dead as reported.

You found out about Edge Manor through a website, others raving about the manor, claiming to have seen many ghosts within its walls. You were a little skeptical however, knowing that whenever people claimed multiple sightings within one house, there was bound to be a lie somewhere.

Nonetheless, you were more than ready to find out if there was truth in the rumors, leading you to the present, pleading with Chan to come with you.

“Of course baby, let’s go,” Chan said, a smirk on his face. “Maybe we’ll see all these ghosts they claim are there,” he said sarcastically, poking you in the side.

You chuckled, holding him close. You were ready for another adventure, the last one being a bust. You both decided to visit the next weekend, since you both were off from work, that way you could stay overnight and thoroughly explore the manor during the day and night.

You were excited, almost giddy, and hoped the weekend after next would come soon.

Your bags were packed and you were making your way down the winding roads, twists and turns at every corner. The lanes were empty, no one being out this far in the middle of practically nowhere.

It was a cloudy day, the sun deciding to hide within the clouds, the threat of a storm in the horizon. There was already a mist descending from the sky, the droplets covering your windshield. Trees littered both sides of the road, the leaves drifting downward and landing softly like a feather.

You were on your way to Edge Manor to meet Chan, as he had left earlier than you. You hummed the song on the radio, tapping your fingers on the steering wheel to the beat, as you focused on the road. You were almost there according to your GPS, your excitement bubbling at the prospect of a thrill of a weekend.

It didn’t take long until the manor loomed in the distance, the large structure betraying its age. The gray stones did not seem welcoming, almost as if it were an omen to anyone that approached to stay away. The shutters covering the windows were falling apart, yet hanging on, adding to the charm of the menacing manor.

You pulled into the long, gravel drive, slowly making your way to the front of the house. Your mouth hung open in awe as you came to the front door, elegant as much as it was rickety.

You put your car in park and opened the door, your foot touching the gravel below with a crunch. You slowly walked up the steps and to the door, your hand grasping the centuries old knob. Opening the door, you were met with a grand foyer, dim lighting illuminating the room.

Your eyes wandered the room, until you noticed a desk in the center, a man standing behind it, his hands placed precariously on the wood. You walked towards him, a smile steadily growing on his face as you approached.

He had long blond hair that framed his almost angelic face. His large brown eyes gazed at you, radiating with a welcoming kindness. His face was littered with freckles, the spots moving as his smile grew bigger, meeting his eyes.

“Welcome to Edge Manor. My name is Felix, the caretaker of the grounds. Will you be staying with us?”

His voice was deep, with a hint of an accent, the syllables echoing off the ornate walls.

“Yes, I’m uhh...I’m meeting someone here, he’s already checked in. Chan is his name.”

“Ah yes, he checked in a little earlier.”

You watched as he rummaged under the desk, muttering under his breath as he searched for something. Finally, he straightened up with an old fashioned key in his hand, the red label reading 325. Felix smiled and handed you the key, his cold fingers softly brushing against yours before he quickly withdrew his hand once the key was safely in yours.

“I do hope you’ll enjoy your stay. If you are in need of any assistance, please do not hesitate to let me know. The stairs to my left will take you to your room.”

You thanked Felix and grabbed your bag, heading to the stairs he mentioned. You made your way up the plush stairs, your feet feeling almost buoyant on the carpeted stairs. Your eyes wandered, looking at the paintings that lined the wall. Each frame showed a different person, each in period clothing.

Stopping at a particular frame, you took note of a young girl in a beautiful lilac dress holding lily of the valley flowers in her arms. She was beautiful with a gentle face, her eyes an illustrious green. As beautiful as she was, there was a hint of melancholy etched into her eyes, her smile not quite reaching the green orbs.

‘This must be the famous Clara Edge,’ you thought.

With one last glance at the girl, you continued down the hall, looking for your room. It didn’t take long, the room being in the center of the hall. Inserting the key, you unlocked the door, and walked inside.

The room was charming yet simple, a little bit of old charm mixed with new. You placed your bag on the dresser, noticing Chan’s bag was there as well. So he was here. You pulled out your phone to contact him, but noticed there was no service.

“Shit,” you muttered, wondering how you were going to get in contact with him. Surely he wouldn’t have started to explore the manor without you.

You decided to freshen up, while waiting for him to return, as you were feeling a little sweaty after the journey. Unzipping your bag, you pulled out your shower supplies and made your way to the in-suite bathroom. Flicking on the light, you took in the room, a simple claw tub in the corner followed by a sink and a toilet.

The bare minimum, but it would do. You turned the water on, humming a song, waiting for the water to warm up. It surprisingly didn’t take long, so you were able to fill the tub, and quickly get in, as there was a slight chill in the air.

Sinking down in the warm water, you let out a sigh, the tension slowly leaving your body. You leaned back against the tub and closed your eyes, listening to the house settle around you, the creaks of the floor boards and groans of the pipes being your background noise. You hoped Chan would come back soon, wanting to be near him in this strange house.

You were thinking of Chan still when you felt odd, like someone was watching you. The room turned colder, the edge of the tub frosting over. You shivered at the sudden change, opening your eyes in confusion at the sudden change.

You tried to get out of the tub so you could get into some warm clothes. You had your hands on either side of the tub, grasping the icy rim when you felt a hand on both of your shoulders, the fingers colder than the air around you. With force, the hands pushed you back into the water, causing some water to spill up and over the edge of the tub.

You almost slipped on your way back down, stopping your head from going completely under the tepid water. Your heart was beating rapidly within your chest, as you almost had gone under.

“Chan? Very funny babe,” you nervously chuckled.

This would be a funny idea of a joke to Chan, trying to sneak up and scare you in a vulnerable moment.

However, when you turned around to look toward the bathroom door, there was no one there, just you alone within the tub. You were confused, more than sure that someone had touched you just now. You almost went under because of it. Shaking your head, thinking it was a fluke, you tried to get up once more.

Suddenly, you were pushed down again, this time your body slipping completely below the water, your head submerged, your hair floating gently in the water like Ophelia. You were shocked, your mouth agape, water flooding your mouth as you scrambled to get out of the water. However, the more you struggled, the harder you were pushed down by the mysterious hands, your head touching the bottom of the tub.

You kicked your feet, thrashed around, trying anything you could do to get your head above water, but to no avail. You screamed, bubbles floating around you as your voice pierced the water, the sound coming out muffled.

What you saw peering down at you from the surface caused you to scream even louder. The hands pushing you down were connected to a body, a man at that.

He had dark hair that layered his head haphazardly, his fox like brown eyes wide and bloodshot. His lips were pale and shriveled, as if he held them under water for a while. His mouth was twisted in anger, his focus trained on keeping you under.

You brought your hands to his, scratching the flesh, fighting to loosen his grip on you. It was becoming harder to breathe as you had swallowed quite a lot of water, the liquid rapidly filling your lungs while fighting off your assailant.

Your vision became fuzzy, the image of the man blurring around the edges. You were about to succumb to your fate, when strong, sturdy hands grabbed you pulling you out the water.

You gasped, taking a deep breath before coughing, spewing water that was trapped within your throat onto the bathroom floor. You looked up to see Chan, who was now cradling you to his side, brushing back your soaking hair from your face.

“What the hell, y/n! What happened?” He exclaimed, a mixture of confusion and fear mixed on his face.

“I...I’m not sure,” you stuttered. “I was taking a bath when I felt a pair of hands push me down under the water. I couldn’t get back up!” You cried, as you clutched onto Chan tighter.

“Sh, sh,” Chan said as he wrapped a towel around you tight. “Let's dry you off and get you into some warm clothes.”

You nodded your head in agreement and held on tight as Chan carried you to the bedroom. He set you down gently on the bed while he rummaged through your bag for some clothes.

He tossed you your panties, some leggings and a shirt, and helped you get dressed. Once done, you both reclined against the bed, sitting in silence.

What was that? What happened? Who was that? Your mind was all over the place, shock at your run in with...with what? Was that one of the famed ghosts of the manor? The man did seem to have a glow to his frame.

You broke the silence, explaining to Chan what you saw and then explaining your theory. He looked at you skeptically, not sure if he wanted to believe it was a ghost, but what other explanation was there?

You felt adrenaline running through your veins, the feeling of fear not quite dissipating yet. Instead, you felt aroused, the brush with death stirring up feelings deep in your core. You squeezed your thighs together, seeking friction to ease the ache. Chan noticed and smirked. “Are you turned on right now?” You smiled slyly as you looked into his eyes. You scooted closer, wrapping your arms around him before kissing him, your tongue forcing its way into his mouth. You were dripping, never having felt this type of arousal before, the balance between fear and adrenaline teetering like the scale of judgment.

You quickly pushed Chan down, his back hitting the pillows, a “mmhft” leaving his mouth at the impact. You shimmied out of your leggings, tossing them to the side and scrambled to reach into his sweats, your hands wrapping around his hardening cock.

Chan let out a groan as you stroked the tip, pushing your panties to the side, before lifting your hips and dragging his cock through your folds. You both let out a moan as you slid down onto his cock, taking him to the hilt.

There was no time for soft and sweet, but only passion, at the experience you both just went through. You braced yourself, placing your hands on his chest, as you began to bounce on his cock, the sound of skin hitting skin reverberating through the room, as you rode Chan hard and fast.

Strangled cries fell from Chan’s lips as he grabbed your hips, the pleasure quickly building within his belly. He was not going to last long. He quickly brought a finger to your clit, the digits rubbing the bud in gentle, but quick circles, bringing you closer to the edge as you fervently swiveled your hips.

You were close, Chan’s cock hitting your spot just right and his fingers toying with your clit. You braced yourself as you tipped over the edge, giving into the sweet pleasure spreading throughout your body, your release coating Chan’s cock. The spasming of your walls triggered his own release, as he loudly groaned, thrusting his hips into yours as spurts of cum coated your walls.

You sat there, your breath heavy as you came down, staring down at your boyfriend who was in no better shape.

“That was insane babe,” Chan said, a smile on his face.

You laughed agreeing and slipped off his cock, his cum dripping down your thighs as you laid down. Chan walked back to the bathroom, grabbing a towel to wipe you down with.

Once he was done, he slid next to you, cradling you to his body. You could feel the adrenaline finally subsiding, your mind returning back to normal. That was definitely a paranormal entity you had experienced, no doubt about it. But who was it?

Your mind couldn’t keep up with your constant thoughts as your eyes drifted close, sleep taking over your exhaustion body.

You awoke, your belly growling signaling to you that you were hungry. It was midday, the room dark as the sun did not shine on this side of the manor, the shadows dancing across the walls as the wind blew the trees outside.

You were still wrapped up in Chan, his arms around you, holding you close. Your mind went to what happened earlier, your body shivering at the memory of your head under water, the look of the unforgiving eyes of the man that held you under. But, your mind also wandered to after, the way Chan felt under you, the way your senses were heightened ten-fold as the adrenaline spread throughout your body. You had never felt that fear before, but then again, you had never been in this type of situation.

Your stomach growled once more, interrupting your thoughts. Carefully, you untangled your limbs from Chan and got up, deciding to find the kitchen to grab a snack.

You walked the halls, rubbing your eyes, making your way down the grand staircase. You passed by the front desk, Felix standing behind it waiting.

“How’s your stay?” Felix asked suddenly, the ever present smile on his face. “Ok,” you replied, stopping in your tracks. “That’s good to hear! If you are of need of anything, please don’t hesitate to let me know.” You didn’t notice this before, but now that you were settling in, you noticed how Felix spoke, as if he was programmed to say what he was saying. You decided not to think too much of it as your belly continued to growl, reminding you of your hunger.

“Felix, where is the kitchen? I’m a little hungry and would love a snack.”

Felix flashed his smile before saying, “Right down the hall here to my right. Fourth door. Take the stairs down into the kitchen.”

“Great, thank you,” you replied, making your way down the hall as directed.

The hall was dim, the flicker of light from the lamps on the walls not providing adequate lighting. There were more pictures on the wall, depicting the previous occupants of the house.

“One, two, three....and four,” you whispered, coming to the door Felix mentioned.

You opened the door to find a stone staircase, leading to beneath the house, the stairs lit with the soft glow of the lamps. There was a draft, the chilly air causing you to shiver where you stood.

Taking a breath, you began to make your descent, the promise of food spurring you on. Once at the bottom, you stepped into a simple kitchen. There was a wood stove next to the refrigerator, the wide sink basin not too far off. It seemed like the original appliances were still in use.

You padded over to a door, assuming the pantry would be located behind it. You were right as it was piled high with various types of chips, boxes of pasta, desserts, and other types of foods that must be used to cook for the guests.

You decided on a bag of chips, grabbing the bag and walking over to a stool. You opened the bag and dug in, the salty snack hitting the spot. It wasn’t very late, dinner time not yet approaching, so you didn’t have to worry about ruining your dinner.

After eating your fill, you got up to put the bag away and then made your way to the sink to wash your hands. While you ran your hands under the warm water, you heard a clink, the sound echoing off the stone walls surrounding you. You quickly turned around, your soaped up hands held in front of you, looking for the source of the sound.

Seeing no one, you went back to washing the suds off. You were almost done when you felt something press at your throat, feeling cold and solid against your skin. You attempted to turn your head, but stopped in your tracks when the solid object dug deeper into your skin.

You could feel a trickle of blood seep from the area, causing you to gasp, realizing there was a knife at your throat. Your breath became shaky, trying not to make any sudden movements and injury yourself further.

“Who’s there?” You asked, your voice trembling with each word.

You could feel your heart beating rapidly, the sound echoing in your ears. No one responded to your question as there was only silence and the occasional ‘plink plink plink’ of the water dripping from the faucet.

You knew someone was behind you however, as you could feel their breath on your neck, not hot as you would expect, but cold. Whoever it was still had the knife pressed to your throat before you heard a haunting whisper. “Turn around slowly,” the voice said.

The knife was lowered and you let out a breath before slowly turning around. You noticed another man in front of you, this one different than the one you encounter during your bath.

He had black hair like the man before, however, his eyes were almost cat like, the orbs piercing into your skull. He gripped the knife in his hand, occasionally twirling the blade.

“Aren’t you a cutie, kitten,” the man said, his eyes roaming your figure before landing back on your eyes, holding your gaze.

You were trembling in your spot in fear, not sure who the man was. The adrenaline was coursing through your system once more, your body posed to flee once the timing seemed right. You kept eyeing the knife, making sure it stayed far away from you. You must have gazed at it too long, as the man noticed, a smirk forming on his face.

“Wanna see my little friend up close?” He questioned, walking closer to you.

He didn’t stop until he was right in front of your face. You continued to stare into his brown orbs as he lightly dragged the knife up your arms, the little hairs on your arms sticking up. He continued his assault across your chest, down the valley of your breasts before coming back up to your chest.

He eyed your throat, his tongue darting out to lick his lips, almost as if he was savoring you in his head. With a quick motion, the knife was back at your throat, the blade pressing in harder than before.

You were terrified, as you felt the metal dig deeper and deeper, a more steady flow of blood seeping from the wound. With each drop of blood, you couldn't help the arousal that seeped into your panties, the material feeling damp against your core.

With each press of the knife, your pussy clenched around nothing, your body desperately seeking for some type of relief. You shouldn’t be feeling this way, but here you were with a knife at your throat, ready to slice you open and you were turned on.

You needed to get away from this man, before anymore damage could be done. You decided to run across the room and up the stairs and into the hallway, locking the man in this infernal place.

Taking a breath, you counted to three before shoving the man hard, your hands meeting the hard surface of his chest. As he stumbled backwards, you made a run for it, making it to the steps in no time. You took them two at a time, not stopping until you were in the hallway, the door closed tightly behind you.

You quickly made your way back to the foyer, your neck still dripping blood from where the knife was held against your skin. Once in the grand hall, you turned to see Felix looking at you in concern.

“Why y/n, you are bleeding! What happened?” Felix exclaimed, walking over to you with a tissue.

You gratefully accepted the cloth, holding it against the wound on your neck. “Come, this way. Let’s go the sitting room.” Felix guided you toward a room to the left of his desk, swinging open the ornate doors. He waited until you stepped in, before following behind you. “Please sit,” Felix murmured. “I will get a first aid kit to clean up your wound. You can tell me what happened then too.” You watched as Felix scurried out the room, shutting the doors behind him. Now that he was gone, you took in your surroundings, not yet having come across this room. It was large, but cozy, various arm chairs and couches strategically placed throughout. You could hear the tick tock tick tock of a clock somewhere in the room, but other than that, it was silent.

There was a large bay window at the other end of the room. You got up and walked toward it, wanting to see where it overlooked. There was a massive yard, the grass green despite the time of year. It was neatly manicured, keeping up with the prestige of the house.

You were lost in thought, your mind not yet recovered from what just occurred. You weren’t sure what was happening in this house, but you wanted nothing more than to be with your boyfriend, his warm, muscular arms wrapped around you.

As you daydreamed, your head off in the clouds, you did not notice the shift in the air, how the temperature dropped a degree or two, or how there was a presence behind you, gazing at you.

You continued to stare out the window until you felt something cover your eyes, the material soft and delicate, obscuring your eye sight.

“Chan?” You asked, your voice quivering slightly.

“Shhh, behave,” the voice responded, deep and sultry just like Chan’s can be in the bedroom.

You giggled, slightly relaxing at the fact that your boyfriend found you, and not some other person. You started to turn around when a hand stopped you, before turning you back to face what you assumed was the window.

You felt hands glide from your shoulders down your arms, causing shivers to run down your spine. It occurred again and again and again before they made their way to your belly, the digits softly splaying across your soft flesh.

The hands reached lower, reaching your thighs, caressing the supple flesh, as you let out a low moan. Your panties became even more wet, your slick soaking the material as you felt the hands continue to touch you softly, gently, slowly, building anticipation as to what was to come.

You felt a body behind you, the muscular frame pressed against your back so similar to Chan’s, hands continuing to touch you, locking you in.

“Please,” you whimpered, more than ready for him to touch you where you needed it most, to relieve the ache that had never quite gone away, as it steadily built up through your encounter with the man with the knife and now with your boyfriend’s hands touching you, teasing you.

You let out a sigh as the hand finally slipped into your leggings, pass your panties to cup your core. You tried to hold back your moans as you felt a thick finger dip through your folds, teasing your entrance before traveling up to your clit.

The slightest pressure was applied to the nub, causing you to jerk your hips into his hands. You leaned back onto the muscular frame behind you, completely surrendering yourself to the pleasure, as gentle yet firm circles were applied to your clit, bringing you closer to that high you desperately needed.

You felt your knees begin to buckle, needing to move to brace yourself against your high that was ready to explode at any moment. However you couldn't move as his muscular arm was wrapped around you, holding you up, making sure your body was flush with his.

You teetered on the edge of ecstasy, your breath shaky, your toes curling in your shoes, as your hips rocking against the finger that was pressed to your bundle of nerves. Despite the blindfold, you saw colors, the spots swirling this way and that as you tipped over the edge, your hands coming up to grab the two that were wrapped around your body.

You dug your fingernails into the flesh, riding out your high before taking a shaky breath and slowly letting go. The hand move up and out of your leggings, the other arm dropping from your body. The presence of the body behind you was gone in an instant, leaving you alone and out of breath.

You removed your blindfold, ready to turn around and wrap your arms around your boyfriend. However, when you did turn around, there was no one there, only the lingering chill was present in the air. Your eyes scanned the room confused, knowing you would have heard or caught Chan before he left the room.

That was Chan right? It sounded like him, felt like him, but now you’re not so sure. He wouldn’t leave you like this. You looked down at the blindfold that was covering your eyes a moment ago and fingered the material, soft and silky against your touch.

It seemed to be a scarf, one that was not yours. Your started to panic, wondering who you just let touch you in such an intimate way. You didn’t have much longer to fret as the door opened, Felix entering the room with a bag in his hands.

He closed the door and walked towards you, his ever present smile on his face. “Found the first aid kit y/n. Please sit down and I can clean your wound.” You listened to what the blond said, sitting down on the closest couch, surprised that you forgot all about your wound. The blood seemed to have since stopped, the red caked onto your clammy skin.

You watched as Felix opened the kit, pulling out antiseptic, gauze, cream, and a bandage. It was almost calming watching him work, determination in his eyes as he began to clean your wound.

You couldn’t help but stare at his face, taking in his beautiful eyes, soft and gentle, focused on the task at hand. Your eyes wandered his face, taking in the hundreds of freckles that littered the area, enhancing his beauty.

You watched his lips open, as he asked, “So what happened?”

You blinked once, twice before answering, “I was attacked in the kitchens. I was cleaning up after my snack when a man with cat like eyes attacked me, holding a knife to my throat.”

Felix stopped what he was doing, taking a moment to look at you more closely.

“A man with cat eyes?” He asked skeptically.

You looked into Felix’s eyes, trying to read his expression, as it went from shock to almost a knowing look, and then back to shock as if he was trying to cover up something. You may be mistaken but it seemed as if he knew of the man that you described.

“Yes,” you responded. “Is this anyone else staying here besides Chan and I?”

“No, you two are the only ones here at the moment. No one else is supposed to be here until Monday.”

You pondered Felix’s answer as he continued to dress your wound. He was placing the bandage when the door opened again, this time Chan stepping through. When he spotted you sitting on the couch and Felix placing a bandage on, he rushed over, concern on his face.

“Baby, what happened?” He asked, sitting by your side.

You explained everything, as Felix cleaned up the wrappers and dirty linens, silently listening to your tale once more. Once you were done, you didn’t dare look at Chan. You left out what recently happened, your mind wanting to believe that it was indeed Chan who you let touch you.

“Are you sure that’s what happened?” Chan asked, uncertainty in his eyes. You nodded your head. “Yes, I am completely sure.” This was the second time he's questioned your story. Did it really sound that crazy? Who are you kidding, of course it does, you can't blame him really for not believing you. Chan looked at Felix who looked down at his hands, his fingers fiddling with the fabric of his pants. Chan didn’t know what to believe if he was being honest. First the drowning situation and now this? He didn’t want to say anything to upset you, especially in front of Felix.

“Maybe you need fresh air baby, may do you some good.”

You looked at your boyfriend, searching his face for what he was thinking. A walk to clear your head honestly sounded appealing. Maybe fresh air truly is what you needed as this manor was starting to get to you.

Felix cleared his throat, trying to get both of your attention. “There’s a garden out behind the manor. There’s a little flower garden, a mini maze, and some chaise to lounge in. You two go ahead, I’ll prepare snacks and some tea.”

You both nodded and stood up. Chan grabbed your hand, holding it tight in his. You felt comforted and reassured, squeezing his hand for good measure. Chan smiled at you before guiding you out of the sitting room, leaving Felix behind.

Felix watched both of you exit the room. He was at a loss, not sure what to do. The events were occurring again, as he thought they would with a perfectly happy couple staying at the manor. He just hoped things wouldn’t get out of hand the way they did last time.

The fresh air was exactly what you needed. It was nearing dusk, so the air was crisp, filling your lungs with each breath you took. You walked with Chan hand and hand, exploring the backyard, neither one of you in a hurry.

The birds were chittering, as they prepared for night, making last minute runs for food and flying to their homes. You both came across the garden first, taking in the hundreds of flowers resting peacefully in their home. The vibrant colors spilled over onto the walkway, their scent mixing with the cool air.

“They’re so beautiful!” You exclaimed, taking in each flower as you walked past.

Chan hummed agreeing with you, taking in the flowers as well. “This place is beautiful,” he said, “It’s old and filled with history. The manor itself feels...”

Chan paused for a moment, causing you to look up at him. “It feels alive almost,” he finished.

You couldn’t agree more. The manor did feel alive, unsettled almost. You were sure there were spirits present, given that you may have already encountered three of them. You pushed that thought from your mind however, and continued your walk.

You neared some green shrubbery, the neat hedges forming walls on either side of a dirt walkway. This must be the maze Felix mentioned.

“Wanna go in?” Chan asked, looking at you before looking back at the entrance.

“Sure,” you responded.

You thought for a moment, an idea coming to the forefront of your mind. It was probably not the best idea given everything that has occurred, but at least Chan would be in the same vicinity as you.

“Wanna split up and whoever makes it out first gets to buy ice cream when we get back home?”

Chan grinned at your suggestion, “You’re on baby.”

You smiled and then untangled your hand from his. You walked to another entrance that was a few feet away. Giving your boyfriend one last glance, you stepped into the maze, the green walls closing you in.

You walked down the path, carefully making decision after decision as to which direction you wanted to go. You thought you were doing pretty well and hopefully close to the end when you came across a small clearing in your path. In front of you was yet another man, sitting on a stool in front of a canvas, a paintbrush in his hands.

He was just staring at the canvas, the bristles not quite touching the white expanse before him. You tried to be quiet as you turned to go back the way you came, that is until your foot came down on a branch, the brown stick snapping in two.

The man looked up and turned your way, his mouth agape at the interruption. “Ah! A new muse!” He exclaimed, excitement in his eyes as he gazed at you. “Come, come! I must paint you.” He gestured for you to sit on another stool that was definitely not there a moment ago. You cautiously walked over, sitting on the stool, as you looked at the man anxiously.

He had long dark hair, the waves framing his face perfectly. His eyes seemed gentle enough as they darted from you to the canvas. He was wearing simple clothes, his shirt haphazardly hanging off of his shoulders, smattered with various colors.

You listened as he began to mutter, his plush lips opening and closing, forming syllables you couldn’t quite make out.

After mixing some colors he began to paint, the brush lightly dancing across the canvas. You sat in fear, your eyes widened, hands clasped tightly in your lap. You didn’t dare move, not sure what this man was capable of. Time passed, the sky getting darker, the stars starting to peak out in the night sky. You were growing stiff after sitting for so long. You really ought to find Chan, sure he would be worried about you.

“I’m going to...” But before you could finish your sentence, the man sprang from his seat, rushing over to you quickly.

“No, no! You must not leave. The painting is not yet finished my muse!”

You stared into the man’s eyes, now wide and crazed, a sort of desperation in them. You couldn’t help the tingling feeling that began to form in your core, the adrenaline once again coursing through you as you gazed upon his beautiful face. You should be terrified, as this man did not seem stable, however you found that the terror was mixed with desire and lust.

“Here my muse, hold these. They will complete the painting perfectly.” You opened your arms as the man produced a bouquet of flowers. They were dainty and delicate, the white petals enticing to the eye. You were not sure what type of flowers they were and as you opened your mouth to ask, you noticed the man had begun to wildly paint, the brush covering the canvas in more hurried strokes.

“What kind of flowers are these?” You asked, your eyes never leaving his back.

He smirked and continued to paint, his docile face turning over to a more crazed and sinister look. “Hemlock my muse, the perfect flower for the perfect girl on this perfect night. It will complete the painting perfectly.”

Hemlock...hemlock, you repeated in your mind. You had actually heard of the flowers, somewhere at some point in time. But...wait a minute...weren’t hemlocks poisonous, one of the deadliest flowers in the world? You quickly dropped the bouquet, fear etched on your face at what you just touched.

The man looked up, anger in his eyes. He rushed at you and gripped your shoulders, the crazed look in his eye intensified.

“Why did you drop them my muse? Why! Now the painting is ruined, ruined once more!” He screamed into your face.

He was shaking you roughly, your head bobbing back and forth like a rag doll. You had tears in your eyes, as you struggled to get away. However, every time you were able to get loose from his grip, he’d hold onto you tighter, shaking you harder. You were hysterical, clawing, thrashing, and even tried to bite the man, trying to get away so you could run.

The man suddenly stopped shaking you but still gripped your arms. He grinned, an evil look in his eyes, his tongue darting out to lick his plush lips.

“I know how I can finish my painting with my muse!”

In his hand, he produced a flower, the same ones that you were holding moments before. You shrieked as he began to try to shove the flower past your lips, trying to get you to ingest the poisonous beauty.

You kept your lips shut tight, twisting your head left and right, trying to avoid ingesting the flower. Each time you rejected his advances, the angrier and more forceful he became.

You feared for your life, worried this would be the end. Where was Chan? Can he hear your screams, your cries for help?

Just when you were about to give up, you heard a voice and multiple footsteps pound on the gravel, getting closer to you by the second.

As soon as the frenzy began, it stopped, the man and easel with the canvas gone. It was just you, standing in the middle of the path, tears streaming down your face, your hair a mess, and angry bruises beginning to form on your arms from where the man grabbed you.

“Y/n!” Chan yelled, relief in his voice as he made eye contact with you, running to your side and engulfing you with a hug.

Felix made an appearance a moment later, his eyes widened at the scene. You were shaking, hysterical as Chan tried to calm you down, holding you close as you clung onto him.

Night had now fallen, the moon shining bright in the sky, making the maze seem less friendly. You were not sure how long you had stayed on that pathway, being comforted by Chan.

Eventually, the tears stopped and you took a deep breath. You were ready to go back to the manor, the once cheery and harmless garden to you, now filled with darkness and evil lurking around every corner.

“Can we go back?” You hiccuped, looking from Chan to Felix.

Both men nodded and quickly led you away from the maze, the green shrubbery now appearing menacing in the darkness of the night. It didn’t take long for you to make it back to the manor, Felix ushering you both inside before closing the doors and locking them.

“You can both take dinner in the sitting room if you’d like.” Felix said.

Chan guided you to the large room, gently sitting you down on the couch. He sat down next to you, pulling you into his arms, cradling you. You felt much calmer, the threat of the maze gone. You were once more moments from death, which did not sit well with you.

Chan seemed none the wiser, seeming to enjoy his stay at the manor. No crazy events occurred to him. You were confused, wondering why everything was happening to you and not him. What did this place have against you?

Felix brought in dinner consisting of sandwiches and chips, topping it off with tea which you had no problems with and gratefully accepted. You nibbled on the meat and bread, your stomach still uneasy after what just occurred. Nonetheless, you finished your meal and afterwards, settled in next to Chan. “Ready for bed baby?” Chan asked with gentleness in his eyes. You nodded yes and got up, Chan grabbing your hand as you both walked back to your room. You thanked Felix for the food and his help, a smile gracing his face at the praise. He bid both of you goodnight as you started to ascend the staircase.

Once in the safety of your room, you quickly changed clothes and crawled into bed, as you were exhausted. Chan slid in next to you and pulled you close, his hand reaching up to brush your hair from your face.

“Wanna talk about what happened today? I’m worried baby,” Chan said, his eyes searching yours.

“No, I...I just want to sleep,” you whispered, lowering your eyes so he couldn’t see the pain there.

It didn’t take you long to drift off to sleep, the thoughts of men with knives pressed to your throat, unknown hands caressing you gently such as your boyfriend does, and crazed men in front of a canvas swirling around in your head. You were shocked you could sleep at all.

You hoped you could sleep through the night, hoping to maybe bring up with Chan that you both go home tomorrow, away from this place, from this cursed manor.

The next morning you arose, your eyes still heavy with sleep. You did not sleep as well as you wanted, cuddling up to Chan as close as possible each time you awoke. Chan was sitting up, on his phone, his arm draped around you as in to provide protection.

“Good morning baby,” Chan said a smile on his face.

“Morning,” you replied, your voice thick with sleep.

You sat up, stretching your arms before laying your head on Chan’s shoulders. You laid there, watching him read his book on his phone, feeling safe and warm within the comfort of his arms. You were so warm that you could drift off any moment, your eyes threatening to close.

“Wanna go downstairs to get something to eat and maybe explore a little more?” Chan eventually asked, exiting the book he was reading.

You wanted nothing more than to pack up and leave, but maybe you could bring that up after a belly full with food; therefore, you agreed, getting up to get ready. It didn’t take you long, as you threw on a t-shirt and leggings and put your hair up, not caring what you looked like.

You did take a look in the mirror, noticing the bruises on your arm, now a dark red with purple splotches littering your skin. You took in the bandage on your neck, a reminder that you were held at knife point. Your eyes looked tired, dark circles forming beneath them. You looked a wreck, like you had been through hell and back. Shaking your head, you made your way over to Chan, giving him a small smile letting him know you were ready.

Chan grabbed your hand and led you out of your room and down the stairs, making your way to the dining room. You noticed upon the table was a spread of pastries, fruit, bagels, carafes of coffee and jars of water. You picked out a pastry and poured you a cup of coffee before sitting down next to Chan who had chosen a bagel and was scarfing it down.

You ate in silence, slowly picking away at your food. You decided to bring up the topic of going home, as it was as good a time as ever.

“Chan?” You asked with uncertainty. Chan looked up at you expectedly giving you his full attention. “Can we uh...go home? I kinda have had enough of this manor,” you continued, your voice trailing off towards the end. Chan regarded you for a moment. You knew the wheels were turning in his head.

His eyes studied yours, then traveled to the bandage on your neck, to the bruises on your arm.

“We have one more night baby,” Chan replied. He didn’t really want to leave, not quite yet, as you both still had so much to explore.

You stared at Chan in disbelief, your fingers frozen as you were picking apart the last of your pastry. You really didn’t want to stay another night, not wanting to encounter anymore surprises. However, Chan looked hopeful, his eyes never wavering from yours. You’d have to suck it up and endure one more night...for him.

“Fine...” you said in disdain, quickly looking away. Chan reached out to grab your hand in his, his thumb gliding over your knuckles. “One more night baby and then we’ll be home.” One more night.

Sure, you can do this...right?

After breakfast, Chan explained he needed to run back to your room to grab his phone since he left it on the bedside table. He kissed the top of your hand, ensuring you he would be right back.

You watched as he ascended the stairs, taking two at a time. You turned away, seeing Felix standing behind the front desk.

He offered you a smile before going back to his book. You were going to wait for Chan, until you heard a soft melody playing off in one of the rooms. You looked to Felix to see if he heard the music, but he was engrossed in his book, not even looking up.

Taking a deep breath, you decided to investigate the music, following the melancholic notes to a door near the door that led to the kitchen. Twisting the knob, it silently opened, giving way to a beautiful, yet empty room. There were stained glassed windows, the beautiful depictions of cherubs, gods, and goddesses causing a glow in the room.

Your eyes wandered to the center of the room, where there was a white Baby Grande Piano, a man sitting on the bench. His fingers were dancing gracefully amongst the keys, the resulting music sounding hauntingly beautiful. You stood in the doorway as if in a trance, the notes flowing into one ear and out the other.

Whoever it was played beautifully, as they told a story through their fingertips. You carefully walked toward the man, putting one foot in front of the other. You were getting closer and closer, noticing that he had curly brown hair. You wanted to get a look at his face, so you continued to walk, as he continued to play.

You were almost upon him when he suddenly stopped playing and before you knew it, swiveled around on the bench, his arm outstretched with a pistol in his hand. You froze on the spot, your eyes wide, as your brain tried to register that a gun was pointed at you, straight at your heart.

The man didn’t speak but stared at you, his gaze never wavering. He didn’t even blink. He had on glasses, the sun’s rays radiating off the rims. His cheeks were round, with heart shaped lips in between.

Time passed, as you stayed frozen, not daring to move, the man staring you down, his arm never lowering. Your heart was beating rapidly in your chest, the sound so loud that surely it could be heard from where the man was standing. You needed to get out of here before something bad happens.

Trying to be careful, you took a step back, your toe touching the ground first followed by the ball of your foot and then your heel. Your eyes never left the mans, hoping he wouldn’t notice your movement.

However, you knew you had made a mistake when you heard him cock the pistol, the sound ringing out loudly in the near empty room, his arm steady throughout the whole process. Were you really going to die here? You had no way out, not knowing if you could make it out before he fired the gun.

“Please!” You pleaded, tears starting to form in your eyes, “Please let me go!”

Your pleas fell on deaf ears however, as the man simply smiled and pulled the trigger, a gunshot reverberating in the empty room. You stumbled backwards as you let out a scream. You looked up and saw smoke raising from the barrel, obscuring the sneer on the man’s face.

He was preparing to fire at you again, the ‘click’ echoing loud and clear in your ears. You took your chances and made a run for it, running as fast as you could to the door. It didn’t take long, but right as you exited the room, pulling the doors shut, another shot rang out, causing you to duck.

You whimpered as you saw a bullet size hole in the door, right where you were standing only moments before. Standing up, you made a run for it, running towards a door across the hall.

Once safely inside, you sank to the floor, hugging your knees as you tried to regulate your breathing. You almost died, the phrase repeating over and over in your brain. There was a gun pointed to your head, the trigger pulled.

But what’s new? Right? You were so busy in your thoughts, you didn’t notice you had taken refuge in a library. There were book shelves lining the walls, the shelves stacking all the way to the ceiling. Each shelf was filled with books, the smell only books can give off permeating the room.

You got up, and started to look around, your current predicament forgotten. It didn’t seem as if the man was going to follow you. You were safe. You browsed shelf after shelf, noticing various themes of books, the topics catching your interests.

However, the book that caught your interest the most was a large green book, laying on a large wooden desk in the center of the room. You gently brushed your fingers over the cover, taking in the delicate details that were drawn on. There was no title to the book.

You looked at the door to ensure no one was coming in and then opened the book to see what was inside.

Victims of Edge Manor

Read the title on the first page. You thought this strange, but continued to read on, noticing there was a list of names.

Lee Felix Yang Jeongin Lee Minho Seo Changbin Hwang Hyunjin Kim Seungmin Han Jisung

What did these names mean? What did it mean by victims? There was no other information besides the names, leaving you quite confused. You continued to flip through the book, searching for any other information that you may have missed.

“You won’t find anything in there,” a voice said, startling you.

You looked up to see yet another man, with a docile face, his hair short. He reminded you of a golden retriever, which was odd. Yet again, you did not hear him come in.

“What do you mean?” You asked, as you carefully closed the book.

You were on edge, not sure who this person was and why they decided to sneak up on you. You eyed him closely as he slowly walked toward you, his hands behind his back.

“There’s nothing in there but names,” the man calmly said. “But why? Who are they?” He didn’t answer but continued to walk towards you. “You’ll know soon enough,” he cooed, a smirk appearing on his face. He was close to you now, just on the other side of the desk. Your warning bells were going off, telling you to proceed with caution, especially since you didn’t know what was behind his back.

“It’ll soon be over y/n, don’t worry.”

How did he know your name? Did Felix tell him? Was he a new guest? You did not know and frankly you didn’t want to find out.

“Ok...” You said, making your way towards the door. “I’m going to leave now.”

The man eyed you, the smile still plastered on his face. You backed away, never turning your back towards him. You felt you were almost there until you bumped into something, the item brushing against your head.

With a moment’s notice, the man was next to you, grabbing the item that bumped against you. You barely had time to react while he attempted to force a rope around your neck. However, you made it just in time, keeping your hand up at the level of your eye.

The man struggled against you, as he sneered, attempting to lower your head so he could tighten the rope. You tried to scratch at his eyes, the adrenaline coursing through your veins, your brain telling you to survive.

One of your swipes made contact, your nails digging into the skin of his face. He yelled in pain, his hands dropping the rope to instead protect his eyes. You used this opportunity to run the rest of the way to the door, flinging it open and running down the hall, away from the man, away from the library, away from the rope that would have made it’s home around your neck if you hadn’t gotten away.

You weren’t paying attention to where you were going bumping into something... or someone. You yelped and stopped in your tracks, looking up to see Chan, his hands holding you up. Felix looked on in shock, his eyes wide and mouth hanging open.

“Baby, what happened? Why are you running?” Chan exclaimed.

“There were two men! One in some sort of music room, the other in the library... they both tried to kill me!” You yelled.

You noticed Felix’s face blanche at your outburst, the color draining from his face. He knew something, you just knew it, and you were going to demand he tell you what he knew.

“You know something!” You said, pointing your finger at Felix accusingly.

Felix stuttered at your accusation, not knowing what to say. Eventually, he gave up and hung his head.

“Very well, I shall tell you everything I know.”

Felix walked around the desk and gestured towards the sitting room. “Let’s talk in here.”

You and Chan followed him, sitting down on a couch while Felix sat in a chair across from you. You looked expectedly at Felix, waiting for him to speak.

Felix cleared his throat before beginning.

“You all know that the Edge’s lived in this manor, the most prestigious family of its time. Clara Edge was the mistress of the house and the heir. She needed to marry quickly so the deed could go to her husband, as women were not able to own the manor back in that time period.”

Felix looked at you and Chan, making sure you were both still listening. You nodded at him, signaling he had both of your undivided attention. Felix nodded and continued.

“Clara did indeed find her true love, one she could marry and pass on the family’s good name. The date was set for them to marry, everything was in order. It was a happy time for the household. That is...until Clara found out her husband to be was being unfaithful, catching him with a girl from town.”

“She was heartbroken, her spirit crushed. The wedding was canceled, as she could not be with an adulterer. She was sad, but also angry, her fury getting the best of her whenever he appeared at the manor or when she saw him in town. She’d badger him, ask him again and again ‘why, why, why.’ He never did answer her, just brushed her away, taking the new girl’s hand in his.”

You listened intently. You could feel you were close to the answer, you just needed to listen a little more. You looked at Chan who squeezed your hand in response. You both turned to look at Felix once more, as he continued the tale.

“One day, Clara invited him to the manor, under the pretext that she wanted to make amends. He came right away, happy to put everything behind him so he could move on with his new lover. No one really knows what was said between the two, but before you know it, he walks out of her room, holding a bloody knife, his face grief-stricken. They found Clara on the floor, riddled with fifteen stab wounds. She died instantly, one of the wounds puncturing her lungs. As time went on, those who visited the house and stayed here, report spirits of men and sometimes Clara herself. It seems she goes after couples, her heart full of malice, still distraught that her relationship didn’t work out.”

“We speculate that if she couldn’t be happy, then why should other couples be happy. There have been other deaths within these walls since then, all at the hands of Clara’s ghost. It started with the women and then progressed to the men. Now she enlists the spirits of the men who passed within these walls to target the guests, having them kill in the manner in which they were murdered.”

Felix stopped, taking a breath and looking at both of you. You were in shock, your brain trying to catch up with this information.

“So, all of the men I’ve encountered...” you didn’t finish the sentence, willing to hear it confirmed by Felix. It all made sense…the violent mannerisms you’ve experienced at the hands of the men, all except for one; but, you willed yourself not to think of him, how you gave yourself up so willingly to a stranger.

“Yes, all are victims of Clara and the manor, enlisted to carry out her revenge.” Felix responded.

You watched as he fiddled his thumbs, not looking at you. Something seemed off with him, but you weren’t sure what.

“I saw names in a book, were those the name of those that died here?” You asked, scooting to the edge of your seat.

Felix meerly nodded, still not looking at you and Chan.

“Thank you Felix, I think we will take our leave now. I don’t think we’ll be staying the extra night after all,” you said.

Chan looked at you in shock, but said nothing. You pulled him along, past Felix, through the doors and up the stairs. Once behind the doors of your room, you began to pack, throwing everything in your bag, not caring about folding anything.

You were scurrying around the room when Chan stopped you, his hand on your wrist.

“Y/n, stop!” He said, pulling you to him. “Will you wait, let’s talk about this.”

“What is there to talk about?” You asked in a frenzy. “We’re being targeted, we need to leave. Now.”

Chan regarded you for a moment, his eyes looking deeply into yours. He rubbed soothing circles on your hips, attempting to calm you down. You hated when he did this, knowing the effect it has on you.

You were starting to calm down, your breathing slowing, your mind clearing of the horrors you just learned, but you also felt something else build within. You felt the heat within your core slowly spread throughout your body.

Chan pulled you closer until your lips met, the kiss gentle at first before turning more frenzied. You mewled as you felt Chan pull your leggings and panties down hurriedly, pushing you onto the bed. You watched in anticipation as he pulled his sweats down enough to free his cock.

You spread your legs, your slick leaking out, coating your folds causing them to glisten. You realized it never really stopped since you arrived at this retched place. He grinned at how wet you were, dragging his cock from your clit to your entrance, pushing his cock into your little hole, the slide easy with how wet you were, taking him to the hilt.

You both groaned in unison, as he began to pummel into you, as he dragged his lips along your neck, placing uncoordinated kisses on your skin. You gripped the edges of his hair, holding his head to you as he continued to thrust quickly, his cock brushing against your spongy spot, taking you higher and higher.

You were lost in Chan, your mind forgetting about what you just heard, everything you’ve learned. You were wrapped up in Chan, letting yourself go as Chan’s cock bullied itself within your walls. You felt close, and you knew Chan was too as his thrusts became more sporadic as he tried to get you both over the edge.

You were so close to your release until you opened your eyes and noticed a figure above you.

A beautiful woman in period clothing, the gown stained in a dark maroon, holes scattered throughout the fabric. Her brown hair hung down her face in ringlets, causing her face to appear pale in comparison. She had a glow around her frame, giving her a ghoulish appearance. There was malice in her eyes as she stared down at you, as Chan continued to pump his cock into you, none the wiser to who stood behind him.

You screamed and pushed Chan off of you, watching as he stumbled, his eyes in disbelief. You scrambled to get your clothes back on as Chan stuttered, wondeing what was wrong.

“Let’s go!” You said, rushing to grab your bag even though you weren’t done packing.

Chan couldn’t get a word in, but pulled his sweats up and followed after you, running to catch up with you. You both made it down the stairs, pass the desk, pass Felix who watched you both in shock. You flung open the front doors and continued to run, not stopping until you got to your car.

“I guess I’ll follow you home,” Chan said, confusion still on his face.

You nodded as you got into your car, throwing your bag into the back seat. You started your car and pulled away, exhaling with relief as the manor grew smaller behind you.

As you got closer to the entrance, you gasped as you looked through the rearview mirror at the manor. What you saw made the color drain from your face.

Not only was Felix standing on the stairs, but also the other victims, Jeongin, Minho, Changbin, Jisung, Seungmin, and Clara. They all watched you drive away, not happy their victims got away.

Of course Felix was there, as you just realized he was a victim too. Your mind briefly wondered how he became a victim, but you stopped yourself immediately, not really caring.

You shook your head and faced forward, driving away from the weekend from hell, never to look back again.

Taglist: @jehhskz @jeonginsleftcheek @simpforleeknaur @armystay89 @palindrome969 @slut4hee @ivydoesit23 @amarecerasus @kaysungshine @fun-fanfics @baby-stay92 @seungfl0wer @velvetmoonlght

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octuscle · 1 month ago

Text

Halloween Party - Warrior through cultural appropriation

Shit, Jeff thought, Halloween used to be just fun. Now it was first of all a huge effort to find the perfect costume, to shape your body to match the costume. And then you look so good that you would like to fuck yourself, then there are a couple of killjoys outside on the street in front of the Frat House, berating you because your costume is a cultural appropriation and a sign of digital imperialism. Shit, who even comes up with such bullshit terms? Today was about getting drunk, having fun. And at the end of the evening, to end up in bed with a hot guy. Halloween was not a lecture in sociology or ethnology or whatever the shit was called.

After he had removed the traces of the eggs that had been thrown at him, Jeff was ready for his appearance. He knew he was damn hot. He had an awesome body. His tattoos looked almost real. And in his shorts with the Hawaiian pattern, his cock was in joyful anticipation of the highlight of the party. Only in his head did he feel somehow… cloudy… One of the activists in front of the Frat House had sprayed a gas in his face. Jeff had thought it was pepper spray. But it was something completely different. It made him feel good. Like he had smoked pot. It was weird. But it was Halloween. No showing weakness now! He practically had a duty to party tonight. A guy asked him if he wanted a drink. Did Jeff know the guy… Seemed somehow familiar. But the guy was obviously a local. He replied that he didn't have a coconut milk. The guy laughed out loud and punched Heff in his impressive pecs. “Hey, costume of the day definitely goes to this guy. Coconut milk! I'm cracking up! And the guy even has the accent down pat.” At least that was what Jeff understood. English was not his mother tongue. Was it not? Or was it? Shit! And what was so funny about coconut milk? He loved coconut milk. Here everyone drank beer or some kind of mixed drinks. The stuff came from the white devils and was pure poison! Hoff collected a few glasses and took them to the kitchen.

“Ia ora na! What would you like to drink?” Honf didn't feel like partying anymore. Somehow he felt more comfortable at the bar. And here it was also easier for him to flirt with the hot guys from the fraternity. True, the guys asked him what he meant every other sentence. But that might not have been because of his French Polynesian accent. The guys were just drunk. And the music was loud. But the work was fun. And more than one guy had made it quite clear to him that they could meet later somewhere in a sheltered place. Poor white devils, he thought to himself. If only they had a rough idea of what kind of beast was hiding in his pants. They would probably have to throw up when they sucked on it. His cock twitched and became semi-erect in his pants.

His name is “Hone.” “Hone” means “warrior.” It's a good name. A buddy of his, whom he had met during his semester abroad at UCSB, was called “Jeff.” He had googled that. “Jeff” meant “God's peace.” A name for weaklings. Hone was no weakling. In Santa Barbara it was the middle of the night, here on Bora Bora the sun had not even set. The white devils were already drinking alcohol. Another sign of weakness. Hone made great cocktails. But he never drank anything himself except protein shakes and coconut milk. Not even on Halloween.

#male tf #muscle tf #reality change #inked man #tank top #race change #ai image #forced tf #jock tf #halloween tf

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totally-not-here-for-the-smut · 11 months ago

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@fox-daddies here 🦊🦊

Could I get Hc for the M6 walking into their room to find Mc laying completely naked in bed because their way too hot to do anything.

For a moment I thought by hot you meant "Too sexy to do anything", but I realized you meant it's a hot day, or at least I hope so? ANYWAY

Vesuvia's summers can be hard to tolerate by the ones who aren't used to it. Today the wind seems too tired to blow, and the sun is so bright that the sea is as blinding as the sun. You took a refreshing bath, but couldn't force yourself into your clothes again, so you just threw youself on your bed, directly under the open window, hoping for the faintest breeze to slip into your room when...

[Spicy♧•••♧ahead!]

... Muriel enters the hut. He's drenched in sweat too, and first thing first, he gets out of his clothes and tosses them aside before slumping on the bed next to you, eyes closed. You hear his heart pounding in his chest, tired by the heatwave just like him, as his hands reaches yours, brushing it with the tip of his fingers. You stay like this for hours, until the merciless sun finally gives in to the sunset.

Then his hand reaches for your waist, pulling you on top of him.

... the door slightly opens, and Portia's witty face peaks trough the crack. Her smile widens as she sees you, and after a quick glance behind her she slips inside closing the door behind her back. "I guess milady's flowers can wait..." she whispers as her lips brushes your hand. "Or maybe she'll come looking for me. But would you be sorry if she were to find us like this?", she winks.

... Lucio enters the room, looks at you from behind his sweat drenched hair covering his forhead, and announces: "great idea". In a matter of seconds he joins you, his cold metal hand sending the best kind of chills up your spine. He looks at the sky-colored canopy over the bed, looks at you with that familiar child-like light in his eyes and whispers "Make it cloudy". Points up. "The canopy. Make it cloudy! Make it rain! Can you???".

You wonder how this man can be so silly and so genius. With a snap of your fingers, a single drop falls on the bed. Then another, and another, and another one. Lucio starts giggling, then laughing, taking you into his arms and kissing you through his laugh. "Oooh, you're the best!"

... Julian comes back home. "What a day!" he huffs, before starting to ramble about what happened at the clinic. You smile silently. Keeping the bed on the right of the door has its perks with Julian. "... and then a kid reached for the leeches -why do they do that, do leeches looks like candies?- and almost knoched it over when..." he abruptly stops.

"Oh dear" -his tone changes- "it looks like you got hit by a heatstroke... yes, the temperature of your skin shows it, and your lips too". You feel his dramatic sigh on your neck. "I must proceed with a deeper check..."

... Asra climbs the stairs of the bedroom. He smiles. "Here you are! What a weather today, uh? I really can't think of a way to refresh myself". You don't think he's messing with you: Asra and you are so used to such level of intimacy. He sits on the bed. A mischievous smile crosses his lips. "Unless..."

You let out a scream in surprise as you feel the bed dissolving into cool water under your back, before the water covers your mouth. You hear Asra laughing from the other side of the surface, right before diving in next to you.

... Nadia enters your bedchamber. She is followed by a couple of servants and has a big list of things to do into her hands, and she's instructing her helpers about the heatstrokes prevention program. They stop in front of the bed. "O... Oh. I, hem, I thought you were at the shop...", she mutters, before realizing there are people there with her. She turns towards them, and manages to put together a crumble of dignity. "You're dismissed. I'll send for you when I'll be done with some... ehm... urgent matters".

The servants bow and run out, embarassed. Nadia turns "Oh I'm sorry, so sorry my dear, I didn't mean to embarass you...". Her flushed face is so funny that washes away any embarrassment from you. "I will make up for it", she continues, "Just ask, may I go to get you something to... I don't know, to eat? Another bath, or maybe you want to go on vacation somewhere? A poem! I can apologize with that, for sure, or sing...?" She stops when she notice the look into your eyes. There's no need for clarvoyance to understand what kind of apology you'd like right now!

#love this prompt!#also so happy to reply to my good fox appreciator #the arcana game #the arcana #the arcana muriel #muriel of the khokuri smut #muriel of the khokuri fluff #the arcana fluff #asra the arcana #asra alnazar fluff #nadia satrinava #nadia satrinava fluff #julian devorak #julian devorak smut #lucio morgasson #count lucio #portia devorak #portia devorak smut

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its-dari · 1 year ago

Text

The Loving Hands of God

Creator AU - Where the reader is treated like a diety by the characters of Genshin Impact

Pairing(s): None || PLATONIC: Son! Wanderer & Parental! Gender Neutral! Creator! Reader Summary: He is reminded everyday that you chose him. But some days are harder than others; and he's grateful to have you sweep the cloudy skies away.

A/N: I don't really play Genshin but here we are, I'm just getting out my ideas - don't mind me.

This Wanderer is named "Kaito(神愛)", with the characters written for "god" and "love". I thought it could be cute to kind of give a call back to his origin but something also to remind him of how far he's come. He also calls the reader "Oya", which is the best thing I could get to a gender neutral Japanese term for mother or father.

I won't be taking requests! This is most likely a one time thing. This is also inspired by "this lovely piece" by @dropletpetals

(Extra Miscellaneous HCs: "The Son of Graces")

Warning(s): Wanderer backstory spoilers! Some revenge. This was written on my phone so forgive any errors.

Over grassy, rolling knolls - filled to the brim with blooming flowers in his favorite colors and breeds. Even under the loving warmth of sun on his cheeks and clouds turning themselves into the childish shapes of his desire. Even as the song on the winds speak his new name into his ears, the bonfires below burning it up so it reached the heavens. to the voices of acolytes proclaiming it so...

He was worried.

Worried and waiting for the other shoe to drop.

He was unwanted everywhere else.

By his mother, who made him a puppet - who left him with no identity or name

By the Fatui, who deemed him unworthy.

So when it came to be; the Creator's return to the mortal plane...

When he'd come to demand answers, angry about simply existing.

Your voice so gentle and warm, apologizing that you were not there to help him when he called to your name in begs and prayers. When the world you made and hurt him so much and how sorry you were that it treated him so cruelly... He felt the sincerity pouring through every pore, it washed over him - like a blanket.

You understood his pain.

He found that you had long since been asleep, since the dawn of the Archonic creation. Even the small bit of divinity used to create each drained your body, already tired from forming Teyvat with your hands. So you could not know of the acts being committed in your name, what those of your own blood were doing.

"If I had known one of mine created their own, I would have cherished them like I did them." You said with a softness only rivaled by your hands.

He had fallen to his knees, unable to stand after the crushing weight of pain fell upon him. You were not completely blameless...

But you did not lie to him.

Did not abandon him.

You stayed until the tears dried up, stroking his sore eyes.

"So now that I know she did not love you like you deserve... You are mine now." He nearly fell again, but your embrace held him up. "You will be my son... And I will give you everything."

How it was so warm and loving, arms cradling him as if he were nothing more than a babe. His hands white-knuckling at your divine robes as he just sniveled into your chest, no doubt covering them in his snot and tears... But you didn't care, cooing sweetly to the boy about how he's already made you proud. How you already loved him.

He nearly cried again when you gave him his name.

"You will be my son, so your name will have our title."

You pondered about it for a while before having a servant fetched ink and parchment. It was a bit unusual, seeing you hold the calligraphy brush. Seeing the ink touching the edges if your sleeves and staining them, but you just smile so brightly when it is finished.

「神愛」

He longed for a place to belong, for an identity... For someone or something to give him worth.

You have given him all these things.

He was uncomfortable at first having it, as it was blatantly a reminder of his lineage. of the woman who abandoned him... Of beelzebul.

But you only smiled.

"It is to remind everyone where you started," your hands come to guide him "and how far you've come."

"The character for god, so you always remember me and so I am always with you." You hummed a lullby as the strokes appeared across the parchment. "And the character for love so you know how much I have for you."

He smudges ink on his robes too, unable to stop smiling as his whispered his name to himself.

Kaito was the name on the tongues of the acolytes once his adoption was raised outside your walls domain. Call of festivals was announced to welcome him into the fold, into the public, as the beloved son of Teyvat's dear Creator soon to be celebrated as well.

For if he was worthy in the eyes of the Creator; he should also be worshipped.

He laughed at Beelzebul's frantic correspondence sent to you; of which descended into begging for at least a letter to be sent... You had found yourself simply unable to deal with her after finding out what she'd done to him, decidedly icing her out on his behalf.

It was a wonderful feeling being loved, as sweet as it would be showing her what had become of her puppet.

He allowed an invitation to his coronation be sent to her, despite your worries about his mental health.

"Are you sure you want to see her, dear? it'd be so dreadful if she ruined your special day." You asked him gently, your concern making his cold heart swell.

"I will be fine," he insisted as you settle another crown to test on his head, amused "it will show her what she missed and how much it cost her."

You laughed at the cruelty but don't otherwise protest.

You didn't find a crown suited to him that day, though you thanked the providers. The items were returned and shop-keeps were able to keep them as they were considered beautiful pieces by the creator.

The day came and he still did not have a crown.

But he trusted you to find one, as you insisted it would be only appropriate as he was your son.

The day had come quicker than he would have liked, how he was primped and cleansed - donning the celestial robes of the creator.

Of you, his darling guardian.

They were deep violet, small pearlescent spots likes stars crawling up the gold trimmed edges. His under clothes blacker than the abyss, the servants in awe of his beauty. Leaving him bashfully flushing and modestly brushing off their assorted compliments. He dripped in opulence, gold pieces to accent his looks as the crackle of blessing came from the Gnosis you made personally for him.

As he finally was ready, he wondered if he was worthy.

Your eyes sparkled like gems when you saw him, taking him in your open arms and bursting in joy. Happy to see him looking so handsome and playfully crooning about his future partner in a manner that made him absolutely red in embarrassment.

You only laughed and softly spoke, "Come baby, there is a whole world to show that you are worthy of worship."

His hand was clasped in your's, the walk slow and almost agonizing. The chattering of people growing less distant with the passing moments, his hands shake and he needed a second as you stepped onto the balcony first.

The cheers of Teyvat boomed like a sonic roar, your hymns and prayers called to the wind as the ground and skies bellowed your name. He is terrified....

But he is ready.

You lifted your hands for silence, still smiling as bright and as warm as the sun. The hush that came was nearly instant, eager faces peering up in utter reverence. Archons on high waiting to hear your lovely voice.

"My dear creations, Teyvat.... As you have heard, I have found a son." The cheers from below just made you smile wider "It is much more than just finding someone worthy to hold my place and succeed me, it is because I love this boy... Love him so dearly that I wanted him as my own, he deserves your worship. Deserves to be loved as much as I. He'd gone through much pain and it broke my heart to know that this world that I made treats its kind people with such cruelty."

Your eyes watered when the people join together, holding hands and each other.

"If I could take all the suffering, I would... But feeling and understanding pain is what shows we are alive, that we are stronger for persevering." your voice shook, "And my poor boy had been through so much."

Your hands wipe your eyes and they watch, captivated at your grace and beauty - even in your sorrow. But then you give them a smile again and step aside, calling to the masses in pride that is so reminiscent of a parent.

"I, the All-Creator, Jewel of Celestia, have the greatest pleasure to present to you; your prince and my son..." The curtains pull back and he walked onto the balcony, beams of light shining off his hair and deep eyes. "Young lord Kaito of Teyvat!!!"

The screams would be deafening if you both weren't so high up, the chants of his new name louder than he can even think. The shouts of praise nearly make him shrink, but he stood tall. Especially as your hand touched his back, as your smiling face came into his peripheral. With his head up, he looked at them dead on and waved.

He smiled.

Especially as his sharp eyes caught Beelzebul's pale, shocked face. but the fuzzy warmth in his chest only grew as your fingers touched the top of his head.

From your touch, your grace washed over him. The weight of a diadem formed on his head. The Gnosis on his chest buzzed to life and his body rolled in a brightness rivaled only by the stars, from his skin to his blood - it was if he was charged with energy. A power that was unlike anything else he'd ever had.

"Divinity suits you, Kaito." You hummed, taking his hand.

Kaito smiled shyly and just squeezed your hand and whispered, "Only because I take after you, Oya."

At your side, he finally has a place.

He finally has his rightful godly status.

As he looked to see pride in your glittering tears and smile nearly blinding... A peace like no other settled within him.

He belongs.

He is worthy.

#genshin sagau wanderer #genshin sagau #genshin creator au #gender neutral reader #platonic #genshin cult au #sagau x reader #genshin impact sagau #sagau #genshin x reader #x reader insert #reader insert #x reader #dari writes #platonic x reader

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scorpioriesling · 3 months ago

Note

Heyy, I just saw your Prompt Request Masterlist. As I scrolled down there I haven't seen one with Cassian yet.

I wondered if you'd like to write a Cassian X reader with 35 + 37 + 41 ? Pretty please?💕💕

Thank you so much for all the lovely content, can't wait to read more from you✨

Sing To Me

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Pairing: Cassian x Siren!Reader

Warning(s): mentions of blood / war

Summary: Your escape turns out to be more than you ever could've imagined. Leaving behind your old habitat didn't necissarily mean leaving old habits; what will happen when you put them to the test in order to save a gorgeous bat-in-need?

SR's Note: I'm so excited for this ask -- and you have to follow my tangent here, alright. I know this concept is a little funky maybe, but I hope you enjoy it and how it ends! I had a blast writing it for you. This uses prompts #35, #37, and #41 from my masterlist! xoxo Tags: @cynthiesjmxazrielslover

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Love was never easy. You knew that, in your long life of 478 years. You'd come to accept that over time, you may never fully experience life the way you'd dreamed you would -- you were destined, doomed to the worst fate in Prythian. A fate not many would ever understand.

Until you'd met him.

Another bitterly cold day under the water in the bog, the near pitch-blackness of it impossible to see through to the naked fae eye.

Good thing you weren't fae.

The other sirens swam about, but the heat of their bodies didn't provide any comfort as chatter of the looming war chilled your blood to the core. The others spoke as though this was a mere form of entertainment -- but not you. You found it hard to relate to others of your kind, ever longing to look like the beautiful mermaids and water wraiths that dwelled in the glittering waters of the courts. But, you were bound to this bottomless, dirty, dark pit for eternity.

When the war had finally begun, you knew it was a chance to escape. This, you decided, would be your way out.

You'd followed the stream, tail whipping violently through the murky waters for what felt like days on end. You didn't stop, even if it meant taking a slower pace at times. You left your belongings, only sparing the necessary healing items you may need.

If you were swimming into battle, you'd surely find those in handy.

After ages upon ages, the water began to thin, the dark, muddiness of it fading away as chrystalline waters beckoned for promise ahead. Even halfway between the dank water and the clear blue of the ocean, you'd found it hard to adjust your eyes to the blinding light from above. You were more adapted to the cloudy skies of the bog whenever you felt corageous enough to break the surface of your home lagoon, but this... this was so clear and vast that it took effort to adjust to the change.

When all of the filth had subsided, you noticed a few dark tendrils floating alongside you. They shone beautifully in the light, the sun reflecting upon them, framing each hilight and contour. Your hair. It was beautiful, the muck washing away with each movement of your head.

Gods, it'd been ages since you'd seen a mirror. The broken glass you'd kept didn't work too well in those murky waters.

Looking down, you decided you were quite alluring. The black pearls that stretched over your shoulders, covering most of your breasts only accentuated your moon-white skin. The feathery, ink-black tail that powerfully bobbed behind you... you understood now, why sirens were the ones that could call to any male and get an answer, not mermaids.

The water was glinting with sunlight, but as you kept swimming, you noticed odd shapes floating within. First, a trunk floated by. Then, a few red fruits bobbed along as you continued on your way, gripping your black fishnet bag tightly.

You finally understood the reasoning for the odd objects as you continued your trek.

Pieces of splintered wood cascaded around you, one piece pricking your finger when you reached out to grasp it. Ouch. But more than that, the water was rather... disturbed, ahead. Splashing from the surface indicated as much, and with every stride closer, you could hear roaring, voices, screams-

Splash!

All of a sudden, an anchor was being lowered just in front of you. The heavy iron had your eyes wide as it sank to the ocean floor, and peering up at the surface, you saw more than just the sunlight casting glow after glow throughout the water.

More items began breaking the surface, sinking heavily all around you. First, a bed. Then, random broken bits of china that looked as sharp as the wood. No touching.

A body.

Two.

Blood everywhere.

Your pupils dilated, the scent of blood filling your nose as male after male drifted along, blood pouring from them in delicious crimson waves. The sight was mouth-watering, the lurch in your stomach almost too much as you realize you hadn't feasted in days-

No. That wasn't why you'd come. You came to help, to change your ways -- eating those you'd hoped would accept you wouldn't do you any good. Though they were already dead...

You violently shook your head, longing to clear your mind from the insatiable, hungry, ravenous plaguing thoughts. Loud echoing sounded from above, almost lous enough to hurt your ears. You winced, drawing closer and closer to the surface.

Sploosh!

You rear back, your hands flailing wildly to avoid the sinking ship before you. The flags pulled in water with their wake, threatening to tangle you up and drown you had you not swam away. The wood of the ship's architecture cracked, sinking under it's own weight slowly. You would make out the gold lettering on the side as it fell.

ES.

Hmm.

You swam above it, watching as the Nesta fell slowly, the large explosions above the water pinching your eardrums. You closed your eyes hard, bracing for the shock, waiting to break the surface-

Your eyes flew wide as you gasped for air, your lungs filling with smoke. The scent, the air, all of it; you choked, couching and wheezing as you treaded to keep upright. When you finally cleared your lungs, you looked around, really looked. So many ships, so many warriors on them, so many-

Bang!

Another explosion sent a ship up in flames, and you crossed your arms before your face to sheild from the blinding light. Screams all around, so much pain...

"Cassian!"

You heard the screaming before you saw him. A bird, a bat -- he fell from the sky, large wings crumpling and broken as he headed for the water. You knew this was it. You had to go, you had to go now.

You couldn't swim fast enough and watched as his body cascaded into the water before you. Too far. He was too far. You swam faster, coming to the surface to look for him. Surely, he'd fallen near here? You couldn't miss an enormous pair of wings, but... no matter where you looked, you only saw broken bodies and shattered wood. No him, anywhere.

You dorve underneath the surface once more to continue swimming, but that's when you spotted it -- those mangled, shredded wings drifting delicately in the water. You frantically swam to him, reaching to grab him, help him, but he fell out of reach.

He was sinking.

There was no way you'd get him back to his ship, you couldn't even leave the water; and he was too heavy.

You wrapped your arms beneath his shoulders, wrapping tight before kicking your tail with all your might in an attempt to bring you both back to the surface. It worked, a little. You slowly made your way up, his wings as fragile as a jellyfish tentacles. You made sure not to touch them.

When you finally broke the surface once more, you gasped, hauling him over a flat piece of wood and turning his face to yours. Gods, he was glorious. Your hand searched for his heart, a pulse to reassure you he wasn't dead -- you found nothing.

Panic set in, and you racked your brain for what to do in a situation like this one. You weren't used to healing or helping the fae -- usually, you would simply lure them in and have them for dinner.

Healing. That's what you needed to do.

A tidal wave almost pushed him off the wood, but you clung to him in an attempt to keep him grounded upon it. Thinking quickly, you shoved the mass, steady enough to keep him afloat but quickly to avoid being seen, avoid any more destruction. Land, you'd thought. He needed a stable place to rest, for you to work -- the shoreline.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

"Cauldron damned, you better be worth saving."

You grumbled as you hauled him ashore, as far out of the water that you could reach without completely exiting it. It took massive, exhausting effort to get him here, but the deserted coast would be perfect for your attempt to revive him.

You slung your bag off your shoulder, the action slashing wet sand onto his cheek. You grimaced, reaching out to brush the wet sediment off. Your fingers lingered only for a moment as you stared, his handsomely carved features stunning you.

Heal him.

Right.

As you began digging in your bag, a strangled cough sounded beside you. Your eyes fixated on him as his chest heaved, a more sound cough echoing in his throat. He kept going, coughing, gasping, reaching for air-

Then he slowly opened his eyes. The milky chocolate brown orbs roamed wildly, first taking in the sky, then double-taking when he saw you.

"H....Holy SHIT!" He shouted, frantically pushing up onto his elbows and staggering backward. You flinched, a little afraid something like this would happen. His chest heaved wildly, his wings attempting to flare but only resulting in a pained groan and a hand on his ribs.

"It... it isn't good to move around in your condition," You offer, gently placing a hand on his shoulder. His eyes tracked the movement, growing wider and wider at the touch.

"What are you... who are you?" He asks, his hand still bracing his side.

"I'm... here to help you," you say, and his face contorts in pain.

"What?"

"Lie back down." You say, pushing lightly on his shoulder. To your surprise, he doesn't argue, but simply lies on his back, groaning with the movement. You move close again, leaning over him to get a good look.

"I... I think I can help, with your wings," you say. His nostrils flare as pain crashes through him again and again.

"Why." He asks lowly. Your brows knit.

"Why... why what?" You ask, reaching for the seaweed salve you'd brought. You extemd a hand to apply it, and he jerks backward, his steely glare holding yours.

"Why are you helping me." He grits out. "Why are you?"

"Y/N, is my name." You say, and he looks you up and down, at the tail curling into the water behind you.

"And you're... a, what? Healer? Mermaid?" He quizzes.

You sigh heavily. "Something like that."

He sits straighter, his gaze softening only slightly. "How do I know you're not working for Hybern?"

You knit your brows again. "High Who?"

He reads your expression, the corner of his lips tilting upwards. "Nevermind," he says, scootching closer. "You said, you have something to make it," he winces in pain again. "Better?"

You nod, showing him your balm. "Yes I do," you say. He sighs, contemplating his choice. Finally, shaking his head, he extends his wing to you slightly.

You press your fingers to his wing, near the tip of it and run them along the spine gently. Turns out, his wings are not feathery -- they're quite leathery. Strong.

He groans in pain again, and you gulp as you scoot closer, your hip touching his in the sand.

"What is your name?" You ask politely. He glances to you, and you suck in a breath. Gorgeous.

"Cassian," he answers, and you trail your fingers lower, brushing the weeds closer to the base of his wings. He continues to flinch in pain, and you try your best to distract him.

"From?"

"The Night Court." You nod solemnly.

"I've heard of it. The Cursebreaker; the High Lady, she dwells there." He nods, chuckling a bit.

"She sure does."

It's quiet for only a moment as you reach for the wing on the other side, not quite finding it with your fingers.

"And you?" He asks. His eyes meet yours, and you realize how close you'd become to his lips. So... decadent, practically begging to be chewed-

"Where do you dwell?" He asks. You shake your head lightly, repositioning to sit on his leg to better reach the other wing.

"I'm from... a few places." You settle on, and he shakes his head slowly.

"So mysterious. A pretty, dark-tailed lady comes to my rescue, and won't even tell me where she's from?" You blush, his kind words to foreign to your ears. He thought you were pretty.

"Well.. uh, why thank you." You blubber. He chuckles, his straight white teeth gleaming in the setting sun. Your pupils begin to dilate.

"What would help you relax?" You ask, adjusting your position but only slipping right onto his lap. His large hands grasp your exposed waist, steadying you but not your racing heart. And... mind.

"Well, my best friend's mother used to sing to me when I was young and in need of comfort," he suggests. "Always calmed me down."

Sing. Gods, this was going horribly.

"I... can't sing." You lied. His hands held firm as you continued to work the balm across his wing, and you couldn't help but feel flustered.

"Oh, neither could Rhys' mom," he huffed a laugh. "I promise I won't judge, even if it really is bad," he shrugs, his deep eyes peering into yours.

You gulped. Maybe, if you sang with no ill-intent, you wouldn't seduce him? He wouldn't fall into your gift-given trap, as all the other males did?

"Well, singing you shall have then, Cassian." You cleared your throat, and he looked up at you with a small smile. You began your song, singing with more love and affection than hunger and desire. You could only hope he would respond well.

You hadn't realized your eyes drifted closed until the end of your tune, and you opened them slowly to look to your new companion.

"That. Was. Beautiful." His arms wrapped around your waist, his hands pulling you closer to him. You squeaked, gripping his shoulder for stability.

"No, I-"

"Y/N," he said, his voice more gravelly and low than before. "You absolutely can sing. You're a good singer." He smiled lazily. Great. Your attempt to give him the benefit of the doubt didn't work.

"Thank you," you responded, scooping the last of the salve from the tin to spread over his wings. When you went to rub it on, he moved it out of reach. Your brows knit, and you looked at him to see a playful smirk on his face.

You reached again, only for him to move back at the last second. You scowled softly, turning your attention to his face once more.

"Cassian." You warned, and he chuckled brightly at you.

"You gotta... be quicker... than me," he drawled, his hands rubbing up and down the exposed skin on your waist. You lunged for his wing, almost getting it before he reared back again.

"Cassian!" You reprimanded. "Do you want me to heal you or not?" You said sternly. He only howled, laughing and smiling happily while looking up at you.

"Ahh, Y/N," he sighed. "You're cute when you're angry."

You rolled your eyes, but the blush in your cheeks told a different story. His fingers trailed up, brushing against the skin of your shoulders as he looked longingly, lustfully at you.

"You know... actually, we would make a really cute couple," he chuckled again, and you shook your head at his nonsense as you attempted to move from his lap. His rather... hardening, lap.

This was not good.

"Cassian, come on, let's get you into the shade so you can sleep this off, okay?" You said kindly. His fingers traced along your jawline, brushing a piece of damp hair behind your ear.

"I will... if you admit you're a good singer." He smiles cheekily.

You groan. "Ughhh, Cassian, please, will you just shut up and-"

"Kiss me already." He whispers, his gaze fully entranced on you. His pulse was prevalent, his neck vein throbbing as he leaned closer. He looked so damn delicious, you could almost take a bite-

You gently caress his face, pressing his lips to yours. Your insides knot, the hungry feeling rising as he moves his lips against yours. You almost break when his tongue slides against your bottom lip, but keep it together enough to pull away. His pupils are almost as blown wide as yours.

"Y/N-" he groans.

"We need to get you to the shade," you insist.

"I wanna kiss you again," he whines. A small smile plays on your lips at his words.

"Soon," you say, kissing his temple.

As soon as you sleep this spell off, anyway.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

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bluecapsicum · 1 year ago

Text

Summer skies illustrations for my daily meteorological fiction project, Reports From Unknown Places About Undescribable Events (Twitter, Instagram, Mastodon).

Keep reading for the companion texts.

June 27th - We report: very hot today, so that at this late hour, the ground radiates heat though the sun is already low. Our expert, too, radiates heat, and we wonder when their skin got darker (today? No, over the course of this month, little by little every day). The sky is so big.

July 10th - We report about watching clouds go by and their shadows running across the fields; about stepping in and out of those shadows as they move, following them, sometimes walking ahead of them. On top of a hill, we are surprised to notice that the clouds are still not within reach.

July 26th - We report: the warm notes of the sun are remaining suspended in the air tonight. It is late, and the sunset is well underway; the streets are quiet, so it feels a little bit solemn, to witness the day going out like this. Counting down the last few moments of light.

August 1st - We report many months when we looked forward to the full moon, but missed it by a few days each time. This time, we found it by chance, felt a pang in our chest when it showed up through the clouds; suddenly emotional about it still being here, even though so much was changing.

August 4th - We report about the sunshine coming through the leaves like stained glass, creating shades of green within the spectrum of light that we did not realise existed. The afternoon is coming to an end at a very slow pace, watching the sun come around the forest in between branches.

August 7th - We report about the clouds that look the most solid in the sky - for how fragile and ever-changing clouds are, that is. There is a landscape there, one that nobody can ever walk, but it exists in this specific time and place. Sometimes, we wish we could freeze them like that.

August 9th - We report that we slept through the storm, but our expert told us all about it in the morning, how it caught the sky and did not let go until long after even thunder had ceased. How the lightning lasted for less than a second when it struck, but it touched every shadow each time.

August 10th - We report: we have lived hard and well every day and night since we were born, and we try hard to remember this in the pit of our heart every morning. That the planet spins, that we live there, that the sky is new every day, and that we have a lot more to do under that sky.

August 13th - We report about specks of dust suspended in smoke, or snowflakes caught in car headlights, or maybe stars in a cloudy sky. The scale is slightly different for all of these options, but in the end, they all look alike. We slowly make our way across the constellations. Goodnight.

September 5th - We report: the clouds are collapsing, over and over again. This kind of rain falls regardless of the seasons, it does not care about summer or autumn nearly as much as we do, about the days crossed out on our calendar. The afternoon goes on, soaked to the bone.

#drawing #illustration #digital art #digital #artists on tumblr #clouds #sky #night #weather #stars #thunderstorm #lightning #rain #nature #image description in alt text #reports #weather report

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chantiepie · 6 months ago

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MOTEL ROOM🩸/ MYG

Intro.

VampireYoongi X Reader

When I met you in that hotel room I could tell that you were so bad news

Sinopse: Your client for tonight awaits you in the room of a motel.

Genre: Horror/Darkromance.

Warnings: Unprotected sex, masturbation,blood, intimate conversations.

ko-fi ☕

18+

Words: 5k.

The elevator music was boring and repetitive as the floors passed by and the screen above your head indicated the current floor. It was your first time at that hotel, and despite its expensive and rustic appearance, it also felt strange, sober... A red light seemed to hover everywhere, and people looked at you with curiosity.

The conversation with the receptionist had been uncomfortable. The cold, almost mocking look was not the kind of friendly reception you were used to in commercial places. It was as if you were the joke, something only you didn't know about.

The cloudy weather had persisted for days, and it was so strange that you couldn't even remember the last time you felt the sun on your small balcony. What surprised you was the sound of your phone notifying you of your 'manager' informing you of the time and place where you should be.

Just these details, no photos of the client were necessary. He would be there, paying and evaluating who he wanted. The reality was clear: this would be your first and last time being paid for sex. When you entered this life of being an escort, it was literally to accompany, for dinners and events. However, as this got into your veins, the inevitable greed led to things like striptease. When they touched you, it made you want to vomit, it was exhausting. Some guys always wanted to force something or put their hands in intimate places. This didn't mean you were a bad person, you just wanted the most money possible to get away from all the poverty and need that surrounded you during your childhood and adolescence. Being alone in the world brought more traumas than it seemed.

About a year ago, the decision was made: you would start saving money, get out of this, and open your own business. For that, you agreed to this last encounter. When you were informed a week ago that they were closing a deal related to a possible sexual encounter, your refusal remained firm until you saw the amount of 2 thousand dollars drop into your account just for considering the matter.

You felt bad for selling yourself for so 'little'. It was inevitable, the feeling of deviating from your ethical and life values. Realizing that corruption was not as distant as you believed. Upon accepting, you were only informed that at some point you would receive the information, so you needed to stay alert. Unsurprisingly, the day arrived and not knowing with whom you would meet for the first time left you with an empty stomach, a slight feeling of discomfort.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the elevator's ding, indicating your arrival on the seventh floor. The doors opened, and unsurprisingly, the red of the corridor walls screamed once again.

Before leaving the elevator, you checked yourself in the large mirror at the back, as there was no other in the hotel. Your long black dress flowed lightly with the slit running up to mid-thigh. The matching black heels with silver details added a discreet touch in contrast to your long, full hair with gentle waves that went past your waist. The light makeup highlighted your lashes and lips, which only had a gloss with a slight pinkish tint. You looked perfect for the nearly haunted place.

Your gaze lifted, capturing the camera, and lingered for a few seconds before you moved through the vast corridor. The hotel was not surrounded by cameras, which was unusual considering it seemed like an expensive place where its patrons should have substantial financial clout. Ignoring that, you checked again the real-time location you had sent to one of your colleagues. It was a habit to keep each other informed to avoid any mishap and maintain a sense of security.

The cold wind was coming from the balcony, sweeping through the entire room, sending a chill due to the thin fabric of your dress. There was no sign of anyone in the room, where the only illumination came from the moonlight and a lamp on a nightstand beside the bed. The nervousness returned, and the urge to turn back and go home prevailed.

You might not even consummate the act, you had heard from some prostitutes that a minority of them simply liked the company of a young woman to boost their ego, compliment them, complain about work with them... Who are you kidding? In a situation like this, with 10 thousand dollars at stake, it was almost impossible.

The loud noise coming from the balcony startled you, as if something had suddenly been thrown against the glass. Impulsively, your body stepped back, your hands flying to your chest to check the accelerated rhythm of your heart, which only increased when your back collided with a body, rather, someone's chest. Automatically, you froze, your breath trapped in your lungs, feeling like you were going to collapse, your brain trying to escape that condition.

You felt the unknown person slowly bend their head, the strands of hair starting to tickle the base of your neck, tracing a line up to your ear along with the cold sensation of the tip of their nose.

"You really smell very good." The voice was hoarse and low, as if it had been trapped in the throat for a long time, ready to come out. Despite the panic at that moment, you couldn't help but notice how that sound was at least attractive. The smell of whiskey quickly invaded your senses, mingling with something that seemed like mint, fresh.

He pulled away brutally, without further explanation, leaving you still and unresponsive. He walked past you without explanation and sprawled on the armchair on the left side that led to the balcony. You finally noticed the half-empty bottle on the coffee table, along with a used glass.

Your gaze met the owner of your near heart attack again, but not for long, as it seemed like he could see right through you during the two-second exchange of looks. It was too intimidating, and his physique only added to it. He was undeniably handsome. No, not handsome—gorgeous. In the short time you had, you noticed his moon-pale skin, his almost shoulder-length black hair perfectly framing his face.

Your eyes landed on his hand, noticing the thick silver rings and the beginning of a tattoo, thick black lines that remained hidden by his long-sleeved shirt. His entirely black, casual attire didn't make him look simple; on him, it appeared elegant. In two minutes, you already understood that this wasn't someone you would see in everyday life—he truly seemed like a person from another reality.

"Please, sit." He said nonchalantly.

He realized he was being analyzed, even if briefly, and seemed unbothered. He was used to people staring at him.

Immediately, you adopted the demeanor you were accustomed to when accompanying old men to their events. You didn't fake a personality or anything; after all, there was no room to show your true self, but you acted more open and friendly, trying, even minimally, to be as close as possible to how you were with people in your everyday life. It was hard to work pretending to be someone else. You admired the girls who could easily adapt to their clients. Your luck was that you were always good at being receptive.

You walked to the edge of the bed, as close to him as possible, and settled there on the soft mattress covered with black sheets that seemed of great quality. It was the closest spot to where the man was. So this was Mr. Min. What did you know about him? According to the brief conversation, you only got the information that it was the first time he had contacted any of the services, with no history even of hiring someone just for company.

He remained quiet and unashamedly stared at you. It was his turn to analyze. Unlike you, he had that right. Everything happened so quickly that you almost missed his gaze sweeping over you from head to toe.

"I must say you look even more beautiful in person... Honey Bunny." The nickname made you shudder; it wasn't a normal reaction from your body to feel attracted. In fact, some guys repulsed you. From his mouth, it sounded sweet and domestic.

Why was a guy like him seeking such a service? He could easily have any woman at his feet.

That thought lingered in your mind as you thanked him with a smile. "You look very handsome too."

Finally, with the courage to look at him, you saw his mouth curl into a slight side-smile. He already knew this, but hearing it from the girl who mesmerized him amidst the catalog of so many others satisfied him. "Do you like the place?"

"Well... It's very elegant. I feel a bit like I'm in a horror movie like 'The Shining'." A bit surprised that he was actually starting a conversation and how he changed his behavior in less than a minute. "Your entrance didn't help with the less eerie atmosphere."

Min exhaled through his nose, almost like a chuckle. "I must admit you're not wrong. It's an old place with over 200 years of history. Very exclusive, in fact. Many don't even know exactly what it is, since it has a fixed clientele." Now you understood why you had never heard of it. "Interesting reference. Are such movies your favorites?"

He leaned towards the center table to grab another glass of whiskey. When you noticed, you made a move to get up to do it for him, but stopped when he raised his hand politely for you to halt.

"My favorite genre is definitely slasher. It doesn't truly scare me. I find it a bit amusing, actually—teenagers in an isolated place being chased by a killer with an iconic mask, usually out for senseless revenge. That same old stereotype."

Min settled back in, taking a sip of his drink, and extended the glass a little towards you. You accepted. The man, almost gallantly, took a clean glass and poured the liquid carefully, then handed it to you. Your fingers touched at that moment. Again, the cold skin sent shivers down your spine, making you wonder if it might be better to close the window or turn off the air conditioning, even if it was a hot night. But you didn't want to be intrusive now.

You savored the drink carefully, not wanting to be startled by the taste, as just the smell emanating from the glass made the alcohol level apparent.

"Good taste, but I must admit I'm a little disappointed." He tilted his head and placed his hand on his chin, making you focus again and notice the large veins and the contrast between his hands and the almost delicate face. "I thought it would be more related to monsters, werewolves, zombies, vampires."

"I guess things more related to reality captivate me more than fantasy." Leaning back and resting your back on the mattress, you took a large sip of the drink, keeping your eyes on him. You felt the slight warmth rising to your cheeks, given his intense gaze, eyes darker than his hair.

"The world is too mysterious to be so sure, Bunny." The suggestion didn't have a joking tone, but entering that topic was a tension relief. You knew you had misjudged him due to the scary reception, but since that moment, he seemed, in his own way, to want to make you feel comfortable. "Anyway, what made you change your mind?"

Of course, he knew he had been rejected, but it wasn't something you wanted to delve into deeply, explaining that it would be your last night in this job or even why you started in it. However, precisely because he was your last client and the first you would have physical contact with, you ended up revealing just that information.

He wasn't surprised.

Min was a more reserved person, which showed in his clothes, gestures, and even the type of meeting.

"I don't know if I feel sad or honored to be closing this chapter." He put his hand on his face theatrically, pretending to think seriously about the matter. "I'll choose the latter; it's an honor to have you here with me."

Unable to suppress a small laugh, you covered your mouth to muffle the sound.

"Come on, I feel like you want to ask me something. It's okay. I want to ask you things too."

Your lips parted hesitantly to continue speaking. He had caught you off guard. Your reaction was quicker than planned. Were you really that desperate? Even you were surprised by that.

Still hesitant, you decided to take advantage. Most likely, in a short time, he would be seeing you naked, so there was no reason to worry about a bit of intimacy now. "I don't want to be rude, but why am I here, Mr. Min?" You took a deep breath to continue the line of dialogue. "I mean, you're an attractive man."

"It's something I'm questioning myself too. I don't like seeing something I want and can't have." What surprised you was the simplicity. Min really didn't seem like a guy used to this. "I'm a bit selfish with my desires." His eyes gleamed, and that depth returned, remaining fixed on yours as he said this casually, showing no remorse in saying something like that.

You felt the sticky liquid in your panties, pressing your thighs together and adjusting uncomfortably on the bed. The domination he displayed oozed from his pores. It wasn't about trying to be attractive; it was about being attractive. From the beginning, the man wasn't faking a personality to play a game; he was the game. He liked to play cat and mouse, or in this case, Bunny and hunter. Tease and soothe. While he was rational, his actions carried an impulsive streak. Min was truly obsessed with mind games, corrupting people satisfied him more than a full meal. Seeing you with a lost look, even if for a few moments, left him ecstatic.

He wasn't paying for sex; he paid to have you and to be able to conquer you. We're not talking about romance, far from it... It's about power. Even though his interest in you was instant, Min refused to have a woman beneath him who didn't want to be there willingly.

You felt the air grow denser around you, and the ensuing silence seemed almost palpable. Min was an enigmatic man, and his raw honesty left you unsettled, yet strangely drawn. Unsure of how to respond, you chose to maintain eye contact, challenging him to continue.

"Sometimes," he continued, "people cling to conventions, social rules, expectations... I prefer to follow my own instincts." Min took another sip of his drink, his posture remaining relaxed, but his eyes never leaving yours, as if he were analyzing you deeply.

You pondered his words, feeling a mix of curiosity and apprehension. "And what are those instincts?" you asked, trying to sound casual, but your voice came out softer than you expected.

Min smiled slightly, a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Instincts to possess, to control, to deeply understand. It's more about the journey than the final destination. Each interaction, each moment, gives me a new perspective, a new emotion."

He leaned a little closer, sending shivers down your spine once again. "And you, Bunny? What brings you here, aside from it being your last night? What is your deepest instinct?"

You took a deep breath, feeling the intensity of the moment. Whether it was the whiskey or his proximity, your barriers were crumbling. "I think I seek freedom," you admitted, almost in a whisper.

Min nodded slowly, as if understanding perfectly. "Freedom is an interesting concept," he said, more to himself than to you. "Sometimes, we think we have it, but in reality, we're trapped by our own limitations."

He stood up, slowly pacing around the room, his gaze now distant and contemplative. "I'll be honest with you, Bunny. It's not just about control or power for me. It's about connection, even if brief, that can change everything."

You settled on the bed, feeling more exposed than ever, but also strangely excited. "And what do you intend to do with this connection?" you asked, your voice filled with anticipation.

Min stopped pacing, turning to look directly at you as he extended his hand to help you up. As he did so, he carefully took the glass from your hand and placed it on the same table he had left his own earlier. "That depends on you," he replied, his voice low and intense. "The night is ours, and what we make of it depends on how you want this story to unfold."

The atmosphere in the room was charged with tension, and you knew you were on the brink of something unusual, something that could change your perspective on many things. As scary as it was, it was also incredibly exciting.

"Bunny... Do you call all your girls like that? Or give nicknames to everyone?" It came out more innocent than planned, almost coquettish.

"Only the special ones get nicknames..." He said almost choked out while one hand detached to your face and the other slid from the top of your waist down to your hips delicately, remaining in that position. You felt the gentle pressure of his large hands slowly squeezing you. "No worries, Bunny, I haven't had anyone special in a long time," he said with a playful tone, as if putting on a little show for the two of you.

Even in a vulnerable situation, you couldn't help but release a sarcastic giggle, understanding his game. It didn't make you less apprehensive about the current situation unfolding.

Contrary to your thoughts, he didn't proceed to seek more physical contact. Instead, he began to sway you gently from side to side, as if in a dance together. It was then that you became more aware of the world around you and noticed a low melody playing in the room, most likely since the moment you entered and went unnoticed.

The hand that was on your face guided one of your arms to his shoulders, to serve as an example of what you should do with the other, and so it was done. The hands on your hips carefully, without pressure, guiding you in a comfortable dance.

He leaned down slowly, brushing away a few strands of hair that fell into your eyes and tucking them behind your ear. He then returned to the initial position, resting his head on his chest. Your heart was racing from all the contact with such an attractive man. You tried not to let yourself be carried away by that feeling and remember that you were there for a role, the prostitute.

You would be just one of his girls tonight, but it didn't matter. For those hours, you would let yourself be carried away, feel coveted by someone you also wanted. It would only be that moon that you would have each other, and after that, everything would be over. You just needed to fulfill this.

Several thoughts roamed your mind with him so close. What was stored in the back of your head was how you hadn't realized how broad his shoulders were even with a thin body and delicate appearance. He seemed to have strength.

But what was really a bit disturbing was that you couldn't hear his heartbeat, even though you were literally leaning against his chest. It could be the interference of the music or just that he could relax in that strange situation. Your head was slightly bowed down, so automatically your gaze dropped again to his hand, more precisely the long and thick fingers that carried the rings that caught your attention at first sight. On all of them, there were small signs, it was hard to understand what they were since it was nothing like you had ever seen. Clearly, they were expensive and heavy, but they were not from any known brand, they were probably made especially for him, since they fit perfectly.

The feet, which you were only wearing socks, soon lost their attention to what was under them, the rug. The brightness was too low to really be able to focus on the details. They seemed like small drawings scattered as far as you could see without moving too much, and he noticed.

Hypnotized by the sensation and the symbols, his inclination of the head towards your right ear went unnoticed. "Just focus on us," he whispered huskily, planting small wet kisses near your sensitive spot, sending an electric current coursing through your body. Your lips parted, releasing a faint trace of voice, a soft moan.

You leaned back slightly, bringing your face close to his, locking eyes, closer than ever. Something had changed; the glint in Min's eyes had a slight reddish tint of promiscuity. Nothing else was in the room, better, there was no room, no motel, no last night, and no payment, just the two of you.

You had never been hypnotized in your life, but you were sure it was the same sensation being near him.

Min's gaze gradually descended to observe your lips, your breath low and panting, nervous. It was a cardinal rule that many men followed: when with a prostitute, kisses were forbidden. But neither you nor he seemed to care as the approach happened.

Impulsively, he felt your excitement as your head leaned back slightly, conflict evident in your expressions. Min moved one of the hands that were positioned at your side to the back of your head, firmly. He wanted it, he physically and psychologically desired to roam your mind.

A cold breeze hit your face, and the lips met. Soon he requested entry with his tongue, nibbling on your lip gently, eliciting a whiny complaint from you, and consequently, still with his tongue entwined with yours, he let out another chuckle.

Still in the kiss, the pale-skinned man gently pulled down the strap of your dress, which, being light, slid down your body, leaving you only in white lingerie. You were like an angel in the nest of snakes in his view, the silky skin, the ample breasts, the figure he wanted when he saw you on his friend's phone, who was looking for a girl to play with.

His thumb invaded your mouth and began to play with your tongue, letting it moisten. "Suck, Bunny," he said, as the grip on your waist returned, his eyes shining toward you. He noticed the confusion and struggle you were facing between continuing or running away. Min wouldn't allow that; your body craved him, to be satisfied.

His thumb left your mouth, and you gasped for lack of it. Soon it was replaced by a real and loud moan when he released the bra with just one hand and grabbed one of your breasts. "They're perfect," he began to play with your nipple, squeezing a little too hard. You were very sensitive in that area, and he liked that.

"Min..." you placed your hand on his chest and felt the warm skin under the palm of your hand. He looked at you, "Yoongi is my name. I need you to know what you'll be screaming."

Your legs trembled at the mention of the name. The high heels that remained didn't facilitate stability, and quickly you got rid of them, becoming aware of the height difference. Yoongi was even taller than he seemed.

He guided you to the bed, getting on top of you, without kissing you again, he was teasing. Friction between the bodies began to occur, and a squeaky moan escaped your throat. Your mind didn't focus on anything else; before you could notice, you felt a wet trail through the fabric of your lace panties. "I repeat what I said, Bunny. You smell very good." Impulsively, your legs threatened to close around his head, quickly interrupted by his hands on your knee.

He transferred a slap to the accessible part of your ass. "Never do that again." It wasn't a request, it was an order, as he pulled your hips up, getting rid of the only piece that kept you covered.

"Yoongi, you don't have to do this. It's not your obligation." Your gaze remained on the ceiling, more precisely on the chandelier, too embarrassed to look down.

He didn't bother to respond, just began to lick and suck your little button, covering your entire pussy. Every inch of your body was struggling to maintain a minimum of decency and not be scandalous.

You were clutching the sheets and looked down. He was staring back at you with only his tongue playing with your pussy. It didn't take long, and your trembling thighs began to close around Yoongi's head. Incoherent murmurs escaped your mouth. Your moans stimulated him. "Don't stop." And a small scream signaled the end. You clenched your jaw when you finally came.

Yoongi kept his eyes on yours as he pulled down his pants and removed his shirt. Wow, he had a thin body, but, as you imagined, he definitely worked out. Everything seemed better because of the tattoos; there were many, covering from his hands to his chest. It wasn't certain yet, but they seemed to extend to his back. A sudden movement awakened you; Min was holding the condom between his teeth, tearing it with fury.

You tried to stop him, claiming it was your turn to satisfy him, since besides really wanting to, that's what you were there for, but you weren't heard.

"We have eternity for that," he said, unrolling the condom over his pink head and aligning his hips with yours.

"Necessarily for the rest of the night," you joked with a chuckle, trying not to think about how his member would fit, even though you were already prepared. It really was above average.

Yoongi smiled, brushing his lips against yours. Gripping your left thigh, he pulled it, making your knee touch your chest. It seemed he had noticed that he needed as much openness as possible before inserting himself into you. He left your other leg stretched out on the mattress. He sat on his legs while grabbing his cock with his free hand, lightly masturbating with the sight. Until he started pressing it through your fold, touching your still sensitive clit, which made your body recoil closer to the headboard, being prevented by his strength.

"Easy, you're dripping on me, Y/N. You'll only feel pain if I want you to," he said, lowering himself to push the tip past your entrance. Another slap on your butt and you choked in shock again. His eyes were fixed on the circumference sliding through your hole, feeling your walls, slowly, squeezing him.

"Damn, you're needier than I thought." He slapped again, but harder and rougher, holding your raised leg to ensure you didn't fall. All words escaped you; he was deep inside you, and your only reaction was your groans, which were a cute symphony to Yoongi.

"Oh my God, Yoo-nngi!"

As his hips began to pound into you, he remained fixed on the movement of his penis against your body. His hips pounding into you as he fucked you against the mattress.

Tears began to flow from your eyes as you struggled to remain minimally rational. But at that point, it seemed he was there to serve you and not the other way around.

His name was all that came out of your mouth, repeatedly, in a whiny manner.

Yoongi abruptly stopped his thrusts, remaining inside you. He leaned near your mouth. "Ass up," he instructed as he rolled his hips one last time.

As soon as you did as instructed, Yoongi parted your buttocks with his soft hands, squeezing them with as much force and giving a slap, which would turn purple later. He grabbed your hips and pulled your butt up, smacking your other cheek, making you complain loudly. "Damn..." Yoongi groaned.

With his hands squeezing your butt, you suddenly felt him entering again. If your body weren't fully supported on the mattress, it would have been a nasty fall. Your face was sinking into the pillow, not allowing you to see anything around, just the sensations.

Your heart was racing in your chest. "So fucking good..." Yoongi grunted, fucking you in a rough and desperate rhythm.

There was no escaping the pain you were feeling all over your body, the sound of the headboard banging against the wall was an indication of his strength. He leaned over your back, and his lips found the curve of your neck after he grabbed your hair between his fingers and lifted your head to have access. Your eyes rolled back; he was too close, and so were you.

"You like this, don't you?" he murmured, not interrupting the movements. "Tell me, Bunny, how much do you like being fucked like this?"

You could barely form words, but you mumbled something between moans, "So much, Yoongi, I like it so much..."

A few more thrusts, and the warm and familiar sensation began to grow in the pit of your stomach.

"I'm... I..." The words got lost in your throat.

Yoongi kept his mouth on your neck, and during the release, you felt a bite on the spot, like needles. It was sore, but the mixture of everything, the deplorable situation you found yourself in, left you inert.

"Mmmm..." You heard Min grunt like an animal in your ear as he let go.

Yoongi didn't slow down as they both climaxed. Your whole body was trembling with pleasure and pain, mixed in an overwhelming way. He continued to move inside you, prolonging your orgasm until you could no longer distinguish where the pain ended and the pleasure began.

Finally, when Yoongi slowed down and pulled out of you, both of you were covered in sweat and panting. He lay down beside you, pulling you close.

A overpowering drowsiness accompanied you afterwards, and you couldn't even get up to clean yourself, just turned over on your back. The last thing you remember before falling asleep are Yoongi's red eyes comforting you as he said, "You can rest, Bunny. You did a great job."

Hello, long time no see… I've been a bit absent because I've been job hunting (unsuccessfully) and busy with college stuff… Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy my next story and feel free to comment on what I can improve or praise. Don't forget that I'm always open to answering questions. xoxo.

#bts au #yoongi #yoongi fanfic #yoongi x reader #min yoongi #suga #bts suga #fanfic #bts #bts junkook #jung hoseok #jimin #jin #rm #taehyung #jeon junkook #yoongi smut

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mikedfaist · 6 months ago

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I’ve come to the conclusion that the day I stop connecting Taylor Swift songs to Mike Faist is the day I’m dead. I know you said you don’t listen to her but walk with me here:

In her song Sweet Nothing, there’s a line: “and the voices that implore you should be doing more, to you I can admit that I’m just too soft for all of it.”

And it’s giving famous!reader being absolutely picked apart by the media/public for no reason at all, absolutely needing a soft place to land, and he is definitely that for her ❤️ (I’m in my sad girl era idk I need comfort)

Thank you for listening 😭

A big reason as to why Mike is reluctant to expand his celebrity stature more than it is now, is because he sees what she goes through daily, and quite frankly, he wants nothing to do with it. It looks like hell. If it’s not the harassment – online, or in person – it’s the stalking, the complete and utter disrespect for her safety. What do you mean she can’t go to the store by herself out of fear she will be followed home? In the early years of their relationship, she hid out at his apartment for a week because paparazzi were camping out in front of her apartment after a scandal broke.

For her, Mike is her safety net. He is her safe haven. She carries the weight of the world on her shoulders, but when she is with him, she feels it dissipate. He is the sun breaking through on a cloudy day.

I think it’s a big reason why he seems very closed off when attending public events, like premieres or the MET. The people who are begging to talk to him, to get his picture, to know who he is wearing, are the same people scrutinizing and picking apart every single fucking thing his girl does, all while she is just trying to breathe. She handles it well, but he doesn’t.

Once they are back in the hotel room, she can finally take a deep breath. He sees that invisible blanket dispel, and finally, his girl has returned.

He holds her tighter after these kinds of nights; they’re exhausting, and far too consuming. She lies between his legs, her head resting on his lower stomach, as he runs his fingers through her hair, feeling her drifting to sleep. It comforts him in these moments because nothing hurts her here, and for this little time, she is safe.

#mike faist #mike faist x reader #mike faist imagine #mike faist talk

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bloodismymedium · 22 days ago

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Ur urbanspook headcannons? brava. Spectacular give me 15 more of these

Your wish is my command anon🫀🫀🫀

🦷 Mona’s favorite holiday, predictably enough is Halloween and she loves the autumn season in general. Bill meanwhile, as a stark contrast, REALLY gets into Christmas.

🦷 Mona is touch starved and she doesn’t know it. She completely melts when Bill runs his fingers through her hair or touches her for any reason but she tries to hide these reactions since she doesn‘t want to come off as “weak”.

🦷 Nathan Cole was Bill’s partner and the more level-headed of the duo, being the one who had to reel Bill in whenever he got “overzealous” during police work. Nathan’s a legit good cop and generally nice guy while Bill was an asshole who was the epitome of police brutality.

🦷 The Gimp seen in HELL was Mark, as in “Mark The Machine” who was a blogger/YouTube personality who covered real crime and serial killers and was documenting Mona and Bill’s murders for years, which piqued Mona’s interest in him as she believed he genuinely appreciated her “art”, resulting in her stalking him for a while until finally kidnapping him and turning him into a pet, which is the full extent of her showing any actual affection towards someone. The title of Mark’s “portrait” is a reference to his background as an Internet personality and how Mona has managed to break him down to essentially just a machine, a toy for her to use as she pleases.

🦷 As mentioned before, Mona has an extreme allergy towards sunlight and photosensitivity that makes direct contact with sunlight very painful for her. As a result, Mona only goes out late at night or very early in the morning when the sun isn’t up. On cloudy days she’ll wear a “disguise” composed of a sun dress, opera gloves, stockings, a sun hat, a tattered parasol and a pair of sunglasses, allowing her to comfortably be outside during the day while also protecting herself from any potential rays that may be peaking out.

🦷 Mona is double jointed and is extremely flexible as a result. Her flexibility and ability to contort herself comes in handy in her murders as she is an expert in hiding and breaking in and out of places and she can squeeze herself into tight spaces quite easily as well. This talent of her’s comes in handy on nights when she and Bill get naughty 😏

🦷 Mona does not care for personal hygiene, she likes being a decrepit, stinky girl. However, if there is one form of self care she actually likes it’s brushing her hair because she finds it soothing and she likes her hair in general. Bill is tasked with brushing her hair and has a tendency to smell it while he does.

🦷 Mona has a bit of a hoarding problem as she is an avid collector of many things ranging from knives and human bones/skulls to dolls/stuffed animals and many of her hideouts boasts some impressive collections she has amassed over the years.

🦷 Mona also has an interest in entomology and mycology and boasts some fairly impressive knowledge on the subjects as a result. She’s got some nice bug and mushroom collections as well but she keeps them hidden because Bill keeps trying to eat them.

🦷 Bill loves coffee while Mona is more of a tea gal. Bill prefers iced coffee over hot and Mona prefers hot tea over iced. Also, Mona can take or leave coffee, Bill meanwhile HATES tea.

🦷 Bill loved breakfast foods, eggs & bacon, pancakes, waffles, donuts, you name it, he was also a fan of eggs in general and isn’t too keen on sweets most of the time. Mona is a MEAT girl, any kind of meat will do but human meat/organs is her favorite.

🦷 Mona dislikes guns because she finds them to be an incredibly boring and “impersonal” way of killing someone that doesn’t inspire her much, preferring a more “hands on” approach to murder. Bill meanwhile doesn’t just like guns, he practically worshipped them and was a typical second amendment, NRA type before meeting Mona.

🦷 Mona’s favorite genres of music are Industrial, Alternative Rock, Grunge, Horror Punk, Goth Rock and Dark Cabaret, her favorite artist is either Voltaire or Tom Waits. Bill’s favorite genres are Hard Rock, Thrash Metal, Death Metal, Nu Metal, Groove Metal and Psychedelic, his favorite artist is either Rob Zombie or Disturbed.

🦷 By far, the worst thing Mona has ever done was when she blew up a daycare on Christmas Eve, collected the charred remains of the infants, stitched them back together as macabre flesh dolls and sent them to their parents in gift boxes on Christmas day. Even Bill was kinda shocked when she did this and genuinely didn’t think she could get anymore depraved until she did it… which only made him love her even more in the end.

🦷 Mona’s choice for a final meal would be brown sugar glazed pork chops with colcannon and roasted asparagus, filet mignon with lobster tail, black pudding, a slice of spiced apple cake with french vanilla ice cream and a cup of earl grey. Also if given the choice, Mona would choose to be executed by firing squad. Bill’s final meal would be two pounds of fried chicken with a pound of fried shrimp, scrambled eggs, roasted potatoes, a pound of strawberries and a bottle of fireball whiskey. Bill wouldn’t care how he’s executed, just as long Mona is there to see him off.

#urbanspook #urbanspook the painter #the painter #headcanons #mona lanius #bill collins #nathan cole

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andorology · 6 days ago

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Sanguinity: Chapter 5 a rebelcaptain regency au

An unexpected arrival of an equally unexpected letter. With no intention to prolong the curiosity it had stirred in her, Jyn hurried to pluck the wax seal and unfold the paper.

Whatever she felt just moments ago, it seemed to now have doubled, if not tripled.

______

Jyn receives a letter from out of the blue, and her relationship with the Andors is about to take a turn. Will it be for better or for worse?

Read Chapter 5 of Sanguinity below the cut, or check it out on ao3! Rating T.

When the day of Jyn’s first expedition around the estates with Kerri came, the heavens, to her delight, endowed its favor for their endeavor; the sun filtered through the cloudy canopy like tendrils of warmth, animating everything it touched with vigored life. From her window Jyn witnessed the daisies’ and cowslips’ slow bloom, the cool air moving through their quietude in whispers of the gentlest kind. The birds sang, and along with it Jyn’s spirits; she was ready for the day.

She was to expect Kerri’s arrival to Vallt Park by mid-morning. During the wait she spent some time writing about her new interest—a short history of Spanish hardwood species, for which she had made considerable progress, and in such a state of concentration that she hadn’t noticed how much it had eaten away at the hours before the anticipated activity.

She found, however, even as the clock had already struck the awaited hour, that her companion still had not arrived. She decided to give her some more time, and wait by milling about the gardens.

She let the petals of various flowers brush past her hand as she passed by them, their pleasant smells tickling her nose in a harmony of scents. When she reached a corner in the path, she knelt by a trimmed rose bush to examine one of its flowers being crushed under the weight of heavy, entangled brambles.

As she began to gently pull on its stem, a movement towards the house caught her eye.

There, through the foliage, she saw one of her household’s footmen walk towards the staff’s door, the day’s letters stuffed in a satchel that hung around his body. He was unassuming in stature; Jyn paid him no mind—she did not currently expect correspondence from anybody. When she returned to her attempt to break the rose free, she had even already forgotten about him.

At that point the sun now radiated warmer, and Jyn’s doubt for Kerri’s arrival, which still did not happen, had now also grown more certain. She looked at the horizon and hoped to see her friend’s figure emerge somewhere along it. It didn’t.

Just then, the very same footman from a while ago appeared out of the door yet again. Jyn watched him head towards her direction, a tray in his hand, a lone piece of paper on its surface.

“Miss Erso,” he called out as he descended the stone steps towards where she was on the pebbled path. “A letter.”

“For me?” asked Jyn. With hesitation she received the folded and sealed parchment from its vessel. Flipped over, it bore a delicate penmanship that spelled out her name and nothing more. Confused, she looked at the footman. “Where is it from?”

“Lah’mu Hall, Miss.”

Jyn frowned. “The Andors?”

“Yes, Miss.”

Sweat began forming on Jyn’s palms, for a reason she did not really know. “I see,” she said. “Thank you.”

An unexpected arrival of an equally unexpected letter. With no intention to prolong the curiosity it had stirred in her, Jyn hurried to pluck the wax seal and unfold the paper.

Whatever she felt just moments ago, it seemed to now have doubled, if not tripled.

It was a letter from Kerri herself, and it read:

Dear Ms. Jyn Erso,

I am sorry to write to you that I cannot come today and join you in your walk. I know that we have entered, with utmost excitement, into this undertaking of ours—you keeping a record of every plant species you could possibly find, and I sketching them for your journals—which must make this news disappointing for you to read, as much as it has been for me to write it.

But, as things would have it, I feel even more regret to impart something that I am now to do, and which, I am afraid, you may not forgive me for.

From this point on, I am withdrawing myself entirely, not only from our activities, but from your company now as well. I am truly sorry to say this, Ms. Erso, but we can no longer be friends.

I know—some questions must go through your head at this moment; I understand the suddenness, and even the shock, with which this information has reached you, and for this, I at least owe you an explanation:

Ever since our calling upon you and your family a couple of days ago, my brother Cassian has been in a state of quiet unrest. He had already been somewhat sullen prior, ever since our attendance at Mr. Rook’s ball, but it seems to be our visit at Vallt Park which has finally aggravated it to the degree which I now speak of.

The most notable attribute of this unrest was his near-constant questioning of how I have been treated by you; in times more than I would normally expect him to, he asked about your character, Ms. Erso, and if you are a worthy friend. It struck me as odd. When I finally assured him of your goodwill towards me, however, he told me that he was not convinced, and nor should I be.

I had nothing but endless questions. Here he finally expressed to me the nature of his feelings, which in turn, informed his strange disposition for the past fortnight. And I found out, to my extreme surprise, that you, Ms. Erso, have been their source and object!

I asked him to clarify; obligingly and unhesitatingly, he listed out, to the most emphatic degree, the reasons why you seem to bother him. I have debated whether I should even mention what these specific reasons are to you, but I find that I must if I am to fully explain myself, so now I will:

Cassian thinks you arrogant, spoiled, and, in his own words, “possess a spirit of the most feeble and vacillating nature.” I have expressed my indignation when he first conveyed these to me, and still to this moment I think these accusations to be baseless and untrue—you have witnessed how much I have enjoyed our friendship so far, have you not, Ms. Erso? So imagine how much it came to me as a surprise to hear them come out from my brother’s mouth, which I had hoped, from the first, would only speak well of you!

I have stated my reasons against this belief of his; but he is forthright and insistent in promoting them to me, upon the accounts of the encounters we both have had with you. He has argued against my disinclinations with the strongest conviction; he is so sure of it, Ms. Erso, and has appealed for my acquiescence to his reason.

This has become a point of disagreement for the both of us within the last few days. Though I cannot fully grasp the sense with which he has put forth his argument, I have begun, nonetheless, to feel compelled to see it. For it struck me with such shock to see him so earnestly desperate, and so desperately earnest in his manner. He has shown a kind of acute temperament which, if I may say so, he has so rarely shown to me; I have only witnessed it so few times in my life.

Whenever it occurred, I would know in an instant that he was absolutely serious about it. And so I have grown to believe that his reasons for whatever he feels now—they are motivated by true concern and no hidden malice.

Here I must now appeal to you , Ms. Erso. I hope you do not see this decision of mine as a result of me just blindly agreeing to my brother, nor do I hope, upon my taking his side, that you view this as my neglect of the kindness I have so far received from you. I acknowledge all of it, and am grateful you have chosen to make a friend out of me—truly.

But I implore you to know that I make this choice because my brother and I have been through thick and thin our entire lives—just him and me. He trusts me as much as I trust him, and where I know he would, on the first chance, seek my advice and heed it, I know that I can also do the same to his.

I only truly regret what it is at the expense of.

Please accept my deepest apologies, and I wish you well.

Yours kindly, Kerri Andor

The feelings that entered Jyn’s heart as she read through the contents of this letter budded to a strong anger, and she felt her grip slowly tighten on the paper—a thing she did not realize she was doing until the edges had finally crumpled into her fist.

It was true, the pain of this letter’s injury seemed to come from Kerri’s choice to forsake her, but she realized, as she later reflected on it in the privacy of her bedchamber, that she ultimately did not find too much fault in her. Kerri had been nothing but kind, first for extending the courtesy of letting her know of the termination of their acquaintance, and, more notably, for even making excuses on behalf of her brother’s antagonistic behaviors.

So no, the anger Jyn felt now was not in any way directed towards Kerri, but towards the influence under which she felt compelled to make the decision. The nerve of her brother—the absolute nerve! Jyn had no other way of putting it; she truly disliked Cassian Andor now. First for reproaching her character, which on its own, was already a grievous offense, and now for reproaching it again more injuriously in front of her friend, his sister!

He was absolutely and irredeemably contemptible.

These thoughts and feelings cycled themselves anew at every possible moment, and yet Jyn’s turmoil, she realized, was not so fully fixed on her adversary; Jyn felt its intensity to be even greater whenever she thought of the most unfortunate consequence of their hostilities: the loss of a potential friend.

In lieu of this adverse turn of events, her current spirits for her studies were now effectively extinguished. All around her too, the scene had turned sour; the breeze felt too cold, the sun too hot, the birdsong too loud. None of it tempted her to inquiry and exploration; instead, she spent the rest of the day in her bedchamber, lying limp on her bed.

But even doing nothing would soon not help her restlessness, either. So by the time the afternoon approached twilight, Jyn put on her riding gown, strapped on her muddied boots, and hurried to the stables to ride out on her horse.

For a while the movement did her spirits good. She momentarily let her mare run off to its own will, allowing the freedom to thrill her to a state of elation.

She did not notice, however, that during all this, her horse had led her to the crest of the low hill that separated Vallt Park and Lah’mu’s lands. She only realized it until her childhood home came into distant view, at which she yanked the reins in a sudden panic, forcefully putting her horse to a halt.

Once still, she sighed in relief. As she gathered her breath in a quick repose, she found herself looking at the house again, standing tall yet lonely across the empty grassy field. A timid melancholy gripped her soul as she beheld its sight.

A movement from its side caught her attention, and she found, after squinting, that it was undoubtedly the figure of Cassian Andor himself, walking along the side path towards the courtyard out front.

Jyn again felt her anger rise; and yet, she found herself staring.

That was when Cassian seemed to have noticed Jyn herself, for he stopped in his tracks and faced himself towards her direction.

It was a strange moment—for a while it would seem that they were both just staring at each other.

But a wind blew past Jyn, effectively stirring her out of it. In an instant, she urged her horse back into motion again.

From where he stood in front of Lah’mu Hall, Cassian looked at her still. He did not stop, even after she had already descended to the cover of the hills.

A couple of days passed since, during which Jyn had begun to do her best to continue the life she had lived before the Andors came into it. It was not much different, she realized, for she still did the same things—read, write, and explore.

Writing, however, was something she had begun doing more—she continued to work on her piece on her history of hardwoods.

Today Mr. and Mrs. Erso had to leave to make some arrangements to one of their farms, up in the north of the country. This left Vallt Park entirely to Jyn’s whim, though she did not do anything much to do this advantage; she was too engrossed in her writing to do anything else.

By the waiting room window where she usually sat, she had been scribbling in solitude, her back and neck hunched over a stack of papers, when suddenly a footman (coincidentally, the same one who had delivered her the letter a few days ago) entered to inform her of the quick, unplanned arrival of a visitor.

Soon the visitor in question appeared through the doorway, the sight of whom made Jyn’s skin crawl.

“Mr. Cassian Andor, Miss,” announced the footman, before leaving them alone.

Cassian scanned the place, his eyes widening at the sight of only Jyn being there.

Jyn gave her unwelcome visitor a glare. She put her papers aside and stood up. “What are you doing here?” she demanded.

Cassian kept a straight face. “I was expecting to see your father, but I shall come back when he is here. Good day, Miss Erso.”

He was already turning on his heel when Jyn said, “I see your family’s quest for avoiding me is still very well in place.”

Cassian stared at her silently for a few seconds too long. “I do not know what you are talking about.”

Jyn scoffed. “Spare yourself this charade—I already know what you did. Your sister told me—she sent me a letter. Or did you not know?”

Cassian did not respond.

A dry chuckle escaped Jyn’s mouth. “Miss Andor. I truly feel bad for her. It is clear to me that she really values your opinion, and here you’ve gone and disused it against me.”

Cassian looked at her questioningly, his gaze sharp as a dagger. “Is that how you really see it, Miss Erso?”

The provocation compelled Jyn to step around the table and towards the middle of the room. Her voice raised, she answered, “Yes, Mr. Andor. You have deprived me of friendship—deprived her of friendship. And for what?”

“It is not so much deprivation,” replied Cassian, “as it is an escape from her doomed affections for you.”

A quiet gasp left Jyn’s mouth. “You astound me. You know, I would have been able to live with your animosity, but what you’ve done—involving your sister into it—it signifies your cowardice. And for that I do not think I can forgive you.”

Cassian’s face formed into a sharp grimace.

“If you truly hate me,” said Jyn, her eyes piercing his, “do it yourself.”

Taking long, swift strides, Cassian met her in the middle of the room. “I merely told her what she ought to know,” he said in a quiet but intense manner, “and done as she ought with that knowledge she did.”

“That I am arrogant, spoiled, and spineless? What fantasies you must have concocted in your own head to truly believe those things about me, Mr. Andor. And you’ve discerned that from what, our quick introduction and our subsequent meeting? From that you have gravely misjudged my character, and it baffles me so that you are so assured of its truth, when you do not even know me!”

Cassian scoffed. “I know you well enough, all right. The things you said to my sister during our visit in this very same room were enough, notwithstanding the rest. Yes,” he added when he noticed the stunned look on Jyn’s face, “I heard all of it, and not with any effort of trying, for you were not being as discreet as you thought you were.”

Jyn put her chin up in defiance. “That is a useless charge, for I did not say anything wrong.”

“Really?” challenged Cassian. ��What about the fact that you wish to marry Mr. Krennic merely for the advantage of his wealth?” He laughed dryly. “I suppose I should not be surprised that you are indifferent to the folly of it, for you are just like every other person of your station.”

“My station?” It took Jyn a few seconds to truly register the accusation being made against her. She blinked rapidly. “Am I right in hearing that you are reproaching me for entering a marriage for what it commonly is among women like me, an economic proposition? Why should I be exempt from this? This is preposterous—you’re a solicitor, you should know better!”

“Oh I couldn't care less that you would marry for that reason, Miss Erso!” Cassian matched her volume. “But you have done so in abandon of a long-held principle.”

Jyn frowned. “What—”

“For someone who wishes to staunchly excuse herself from the institution for her education and freedom, you certainly resigned yourself to Mr. Krennic willingly the moment it promised monetary benefit for you.”

Jyn tried to speak again—

“Your inconstancy to your principles suggests to me that you have never truly adhered to them in the first place. I can never witness my sister, or anybody I care for really, to maintain friendships with the sort of people.”

Jyn’s mouth hung open, feeling the censure hit her harder than she would have liked it to. She heard it echo all the way through the back of her head, traveling down to the hollows of her gut, making her squeamish. She felt her pulse quicken.

She clenched her body to discipline, fighting the urge to show any sign of her current emotion.

“You do not know me,” she said. “You do not know why I do not want to get married, or why I do . Frankly, it is none of your business. What do you know of my situation to quickly deduce the issue as a matter of my inconstancy, of my poor character? Here is my question to you, Mr. Andor: do you think we all have the privilege to do as we wish to?”

Cassian shook his head disapprovingly. “Do not speak to me of privilege, Miss Erso.”

“Oh I will,” said Jyn, “for it is the very thing that gives you leave to speak over me as you now do. Did it never occur to you that I have no other choice but to marry for wealth?”

Cassian’s expression did not change.

“Is this what it is?” Jyn proceeded. “You scorn me for choosing to not die a destitute? Must I suffer through life to prove myself worthy of your regard? This is incredibly high levels of self-importance, Mr. Andor. I do not need your esteem.”

Cassian’s face contorted in disgust. “Nor I am not trying to give it. And do not attempt to garner my pity because you feel like you do not have a choice but to marry a powerful Krennic, Miss Erso, a baron to be with 12,000 pounds a year.”

“And I am not trying to! It would take the last person on earth to perish before I would even begin to seek yours .” Jyn shook her head. “And what is your issue with Mr. Krennic? Why does it matter to you that it is him whom I choose to marry?”

She searched Cassian’s face; his expression did not falter under her scrutiny. It only seemed to glower more intensely upon her asking the question—a question which he did not respond to.

“You can’t answer me, can you?” said Jyn. “For you have no good reason—for any of it.”

Cassian took a step closer towards her. “Why, Miss Erso?” he challenged. “Will it even matter to you if I did?”

A shaky breath suddenly escaped Jyn’s mouth. She blinked.

Then she shook her head and attempted to walk away in her frustration, but soon found herself facing him back. “I had supposed you could stand to reason, Mr. Andor. Of all things, I at least hoped your hostility would grant me that grace. But it is clear to me now that you are averse to it, not because you do not have the ability, but because you do , and yet you refuse to. That is all the worse to me! And you say I’m just like every other person of my class? Have you looked at yourself? You’re practically the same—you are just like every other genteel person that has ever been, especially the ones you detest.”

Cassian stepped even closer. “Am I, Miss Erso?”

“You are,” Jyn replied. “You may not have not been born into your status and wealth, but that does not make much of a difference now to me.” She cocked her head in mock inquisitiveness. “Is that not why you bought a part of my father’s estate, and are now even considering retiring from your occupation—to become a part of all of this?”

Cassian’s expression took on a look of indignance.

“For all I know, Mr. Andor,” Jyn said, finding satisfaction in it, “you already are. You are now a part of the same brood which you criticize me for. You are just like everyone else—just like me. Gentlemen and ladies who play and scheme and make alliances to build their own wealth.”

Cassian’s expression hardened, his sharp gaze boring into Jyn’s eyes. She steeled herself.

“Clearly, Miss Erso,” he said quietly, “the books you read haven’t done you justice. Such a shame—all that reading, and yet no amount of knowledge has yet to cure your narrow view of the world. You attempt to insult me, that much is clear, but you do not even know what you are saying.”

Jyn relented with a lethargic shrug. “I suppose that makes both of us, when you first insulted me.”

The lines of Cassian’s scowl deepened. Jyn’s heart raced. They both watched each other silently, unable to get a read of what went in each other’s minds.

After a few moments, she finally said, “Is there anything else you would like to tell me about my character, Mr. Andor, in my own home?”

She stepped closer to look up at Cassian’s face. His expression slightly faltered at this move, but in only such a brief moment in time. After a few seconds of their stewing in this heated silence, the solicitor finally stepped back.

“Good day, madam.”

Jyn did not reply to this and only averted her gaze. Cassian began to walk away.

When he disappeared out of the door, Jyn finally let out the guttural and shaky sigh that had been building up in her chest since he’d arrived.

As she shut her eyes in the middle of the room, she felt her heart sink to depths she hadn’t known existed before. Her soul wore heavy upon her body, and yet the fiery tongues of her anger burned it so hot she felt it surface to her face.

Gathering her wits, she finally walked back to the window where she had left her papers. Soon enough, through the glass pane, she saw Cassian emerge from the house below, his steps quick and light as he hurried back to his carriage.

Jyn did not watch him leave this time; before the carriage door even closed on him, she had already twisted on her heel and walked to her bedchamber.

#rebelcaptain #jyn x cassian #rebelcaptain fic #rebelcaptain fanfiction #therebelcaptainnetwork #dailyrebelcaptain #my fic

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