#my one fic that deserves more attention: whisper of the forgotten

[renytherat]

i saw ursa's post and thought thisd be fun.

three bingos wow.

[casuallyawkardd]

In His Vice

Pairing: Dark!Miguel O'Hara x Wife!Reader

Summary: Something seems different this time when Miguel comes home late

Warnings: non-con in terms of pretending to be someone else, lowkey gaslighting, me attempting to write suspense, not fluent in Spanish so correct me if I mess up

A/N: I made the executive decision to write this fic in a first person perspective because I feel like that adds to the horror aspect so don't come for me. If you enjoy, be sure to join the taglist! Dividers by cafekitsune

I could hear the wind outside, whistling as it shook the trees and bushes. When the weather woman had said there would be a storm tonight, I hadn't expected it to be this bad. Lightning could be seen in the distance, the sound of thunder following after. It took a second more this time, hopefully meaning the storm was going to pass quickly. The television had become background noise, my attention focused on the window as I watched the rain streak down the glass.

Today had been one of those days, the kind where I couldn't wait for it to be over. I had woken up on the wrong side of the bed, a recurring nightmare waking me at three in the morning; its contents making it difficult to fall back asleep, so I inevitably decided to start the day early. Coffee and an aspirin did little to help the headache I'd been developing over the last few days, deadlines at work materializing the throbbing just behind my eyes.

Miguel had seemed to take notice of my struggles, taking over breakfast duty and getting Gabriela ready for school. The feeling of his kiss still lingered on my temple, my fingers now massaging the spot absentmindedly.

"I'm gonna be a little late tonight," he told me, gently prying the emptied mug from my hands and taking it to the sink with the other dishes.

"But what about Gaby's soccer game?" I asked, the look of remorse on his face telling me he had forgotten. "Honey, this is the one that determines if they qualify for the championship. It's a big deal for her."

"I know, mi corazón," he soothed, but I pulled away from his touch. Quiet fell over the kitchen then, Gaby's happy giggles heard from the room over. "Y/N, look at me," he said and I reluctantly turned. Soft brown eyes looked back at me, the hand rubbing my back reassuring. "You know work's been hell lately, my boss really wants me to finish this project. After that, I promise I'll make it up to you and Gaby." That's what he always said. "I know things have been.. tense between us lately, but-"

"Let's not talk about this right now," I interrupted him, hiding the pang in my chest when a look of defeat crossed his features. I had every right to be mad at him. This wasn't the first time he had forgotten. It wasn't just about this soccer game, it was about every forgotten soccer game, birthday party and date night before. Was I happy my husband had gotten the promotion he rightly deserved? Of course, but had I known just how much his job would take away from our family, I would have suggested he negotiate terms.

Which was why I held my tongue as he and Gaby left the house. In hindsight, I could've been kinder to Miguel. Could have turned my head as he leaned in for a kiss, said 'I love you' when he whispered the same phrase in my ear. With no way to turn back time, I figured I could redeem myself tomorrow. He was always quick to forgive.

The rest of the day was as mundane as any, the stress from the deadline had seeped into my very being, becoming familiar as I submitted my final drafts. Then I was left with nothing, returning to the start of the vicious cycle that came with the job. At least I got to clock out early, meaning I had time to spend with Gaby.

She was a bundle of excitement, squealing when she saw I had come to pick her up early from preschool. Relatives always told me she'd grow up fast; I found that to be true. Expected to start kindergarten next year and she was already being mistaken for a second grader. Her father's doing most likely, maybe she'd end up being as tall as him someday. Sharp as a whip too, but that trait I always said came from me.

We decided on a mommy-daughter date at a nearby cafe, one I knew Gaby would like. The owner's cat loved to brush against her legs, mewling until I told her it was alright to give him a dollop of whipped cream. Keep her happy until she saw her papi wasn't at her game. She was disappointed, the bounce in her step fading when she came up to me afterwards, frowning in confusion.

"Papi?"

"Not today, sweetheart," I offered her a sympathetic smile, "work needed his help very badly. You understand, yeah?"

Gaby nodded, but I knew my daughter well enough to know she was still bothered, "I wanted to show Papi that I used the move he showed me."

"Well you can show him after dinner, right?" The idea seemed to help perk her up, the two of us walking hand in hand back to the car to head home.

Only Miguel didn't make it home for dinner. Odd but not uncommon, unfortunately. It wasn't until it neared Gabriela's bedtime that I felt something was wrong. He's always home in time to put her to bed. A nagging feeling started in the back of my mind. He wasn't answering his cell either, going to voicemail instantly. After promising Gaby that I'd send him in to kiss her goodnight later, she finally settled and I took my post on the couch. Which is where I've been up until now.

A quick glance at my phone told me it was nearing one in the morning, that nagging feeling became something more. Something that dug into my gut and constricted my chest. The amount of missed calls he had was probably bordering on the edge of warranted worry and psychotic spouse. The thought of calling the police made my fingers itch, but I abstained. Miguel's a big guy, he can take care of himself...right? I winced as my teeth bit into the skin around my fingernails, pulling my hand away to assess the damage. It was a nervous habit I couldn't seem to shake, the cuticles an ugly red from irritation.

Then came the sound of a click, followed by the ominous crash of thunder. It was quiet, I almost didn't notice, but it was a new sound compared to the rain, thunder and static of the TV. My heart lurched forward, taking me with it as I rushed to the entry hallway. In the dark, I could make out a figure. Large and imposing, it hunched in front of the main door of the house, grunting as it shifted about in the black of the hall. I had become so paranoid that the sight left me momentarily speechless, throat suddenly dried when I tried speaking.

"Miguel?" was what I managed to get out.

The movements stopped, tension rising around me as the figure stood to its full height. I almost back pedaled as it approached, step by agonizing step coming closer and closer to me. The air around me felt thick, hard to breathe until the glow of the TV revealed this intruder.

"It's you," Miguel's voice rattled my eardrum, reminding me to breathe. "Why are you still up?"

"Where have you been?" I demanded, forcing my voice to remain at a reasonable volume. "Do you know how late it is?"

Miguel's expression hardened, not answering me right away and keeping me on the edge of my seat. I searched every inch of his face for a reason, a tell to let me know what had kept him, and yet I saw nothing. Why did I still feel so uneasy? "There were some complications at work," he explained, "It took some time to fix. I figured you'd be asleep by now, so I grabbed something to eat after everything was sorted."

"And that took you until one in the fucking morning?"

"Didn't know I had a curfew." He said it so bluntly, almost accusatory. The eyes that looked into mine were unyielding, wanting no question or fuss to his response. Not to push that which was unmovable. It wasn't an expression I was familiar with, at least from him, the glint of affection that lingered no matter how mad he got at me now snuffed.

"I..." I trailed off, unsure what to say next. The whirlwind of thoughts and emotions collected within me had me feeling unhinged. Was I being crazy? "I'm sorry, I was just worried about you," I settled on, swallowing thickly so my throat had lubrication.

"Where's Gaby?"

The question gave me pause, his evident impatience spouting words from my mouth. "Oh! Um... she's in bed," Miguel didn't seem impressed by my answer, "u-upstairs," I pointed in the direction mentioned.

"Mmm," was all he responded with, leaving me to shuffle out of the way as he beelined to the staircase. Then I was left alone once again, the suddenness of it making me wonder if I had just dreamed everything. The heavy footsteps above my head confirmed that our interaction was all too real, another crack of thunder giving my body the jumpstart it needed. All was well now right? That's what I told myself as I folded the blanket I had been using, shutting off the TV and making my way up to the second floor.

Miguel's home now, Gaby's in bed, everyone is safe and sound. I thought as I passed by my daughter's room, catching a glimpse of her father sitting beside her bed. I repeated it as I got myself ready for bed, brushing my teeth and washing my face of any leftover makeup. My pajamas were one of Miguel's t-shirts and I tucked my nose under the collar as I lay down, letting the smell of him ease my lingering nerves. There was nothing more to worry about, everything would go back to normal tomorrow.

The sun woke me up, bright rays peeking through the curtains. Blinking away the haze of sleep, I still felt restless. The nightmares again, most likely. A nuisance that was bold enough to show itself in the night, but cowardice in that I'd forget them in the morning. As I wiped my eyes, the clock on my nightstand became readable.

7:30 AM

Overslept. It was what I needed to get me out of bed, rushing as I did the bare minimum to look presentable. Cold water to wash my face, teeth brushed, hair pulled back and managed, some sweatpants and slip-ons for good measure. Thank God I worked from home.

Gaby was next on my radar, moving quickly down the hall and rapping on her door with my knuckles. Opening my mouth to tell say it was time to get up, the words left me when I saw she wasn't in bed. Come to think of it, Miguel hadn't been in bed either. Did he even come into the room last night? Shaking my head to clear the thought, the sound of dishes clattering drew me to the kitchen. As I descended, the smell of pancakes was clear, the sound of quiet chatter and little giggles following after.

"Papi, quiero voltear el siguiente." Papi, I want to flip the next one.

The baritone of Miguel's laugh followed after, "Lo sé chiquita, pero debes tener cuidado." I know little one, but you have to be careful.

The sight of my husband and daughter making a mess of the kitchen was touching, last night's events feeling like a distant memory. Almost. To think those cold, hard eyes that had pierced through my very being, were now looking down with such warmth and tenderness.

"Mommy!" Gaby spotted me in the doorway, squeezing between Miguel and the counter to come greet me.

"Well, good morning to you too," I cooed, bending forward so we were eye level. Her arms wrapped around my neck in an embrace, my lips finding purchase on her cheek before returning the gesture with one arm. "What do you have going on here?" I asked once we had parted, smoothing down her curls.

Gaby shrugged, "I wanted pancakes," was her simple response. "You were sleeping, so Papi said he could make them."

I looked up at the man in question, who seemed more occupied with what was cooking on the stove than what we were discussing. "And they haven't burnt?" I teased, approaching him from behind. My hand touched the small of his back, thumb rubbing small circles into the muscle as I looked over his shoulder to analyze the aforementioned pancakes.

"I know how to make pancakes," Miguel quipped back, his tone suggesting I might have struck a nerve.

"Of course you do. It's just that last time-"

"I said I got it."

"Okay," was all I could really say, kissing his shoulder apologetically. "You're tense, Mig. You should take a warm bath," I commented, pulling away so as not to disturb him further. Gaby had taken a seat at the kitchen counter, nibbling on a small plate of fruit. Miguel had most likely prepared it so she didn't get impatient.

"Well, breakfast will have to be quick today," I announced, grabbing a grape for myself, "We still have to get you dressed for preschool and then-"

"I called the preschool," Miguel interjected and I turned to him, "she's not going today."

A small frown graced my features, "Well, I wanted to get a head start on my next article."

"Called your work too. Told them you weren't feeling well." Before I could protest, Miguel continued, "I took the day off as well, figured we could have a day together. As a family."

"Oh," is all I had left to say, "Are you sure? I mean that sounds great, but you said your boss was really strict about time off."

Miguel huffed, smiling wryly at my comment, maybe even condescending. "Yeah, well if he has a problem with it, he can kiss my ass."

My eyes widened at his sudden crassness, "Miguel!"

"Papi, that's a bad word," Gaby chimed in, nose scrunched in determination as she scolded her father.

Miguel's smile shifted to a genuine one, rounding the kitchen island to reach the little girl. "You're right, mi vida, I'm sorry," he said, kissing her temple and she squirmed at the contact. I watched as Miguel pulled away, combing his long fingers through her hair. Did she always look so small next to him? "Come on, help me plate the pancakes. The sooner you eat your breakfast, the sooner we can figure out something to do."

Gabriela nodded eagerly, jumping out of her seat and following Miguel to resume their work. I figured I'd let them enjoy each other's company, preparing coffee for Miguel and myself. As I had hoped, everything seemed to be as it always was once more, if not better. Usually it was hectic in the morning, Miguel sleeping in until the last possible second before getting dressed and walking out the door for work, Gabriela in tow. So having a moment like this was a rare treat, one usually reserved for the weekend.

And yet, there was still something that felt so entirely wrong. Something that made my stomach churn and the hair stand up on the back of my neck. Call it intuition, but as to what it was cluing me into, I had yet to understand. I racked my brain as to what could be causing this feeling to linger inside me. Chewing the inside of my cheek as I poured the coffee into two mugs. To one, I added milk and a spoonful of honey. The other simply got milk, each getting a thorough stir. I took both cups, sipping from the one with honey and offering the other to Miguel.

He took it without even looking at me, focused on making sure Gaby didn't hurt herself as she flipped a pancake. I thought nothing of it as I went to go sit down, maybe scroll on my phone now that I had time, but Miguel's disgruntled murmur had me turning to face him. "I don't want anything in my coffee."

"Oh, sorry I didn't know."

"It's fine, can you just remake it?" Miguel asked in a dismissive tone, holding out the mug to me to take. I set my drink down, taking his in both my hands and going to discard the contents in the sink.

When did he start taking his coffee black?

Tags: @lazy-idate @lilly5799 @yougavemeyourheartyouknow

[synthetickitsune]

if ur writing cute soohyuk ones pls consider one where reader is obsessed with some feature of his (ahem hands) or even the other way round w him being obsessed with some feature of her 😁🫶

The fact that I paused working on the fic I'm writing purely for myself to write this tells you a lot about how much I love Soohyuk's hands... 🫠

Lee Soohyuk | Adoration fluff (a lil' suggestive towards the end) | 0.8k

He’s still asleep. Not a rare occurrence, but a welcomed one nonetheless. Maybe it’s the spring in the air, maybe it’s the soft morning light, or perhaps you’re just in love. Whatever’s the case, you can’t help but wonder. He looks so relaxed in his sleep, all the stress and schedules weighing down on him forgotten. He’s always beautiful, but right now you can’t get enough. 

Your eyes fall lower, away from his face to his hand that lays outstretched on the covers, as if reaching for you. You check again quickly that he’s still asleep. Getting teased is not on the list of things you look forward to in the morning. Then you reach for him too. 

Carefully and gently you brush your fingertips across the back of his hand. Some of his veins rise like ridges, making a perfect texture to trace. You’ve always loved Soohyuk’s hands. It’s hard not to stare whenever he grips the steering wheel, when he’s just holding a mug of his morning coffee, or even when he’s covering your hand with his. Even harder is not to openly and shamelessly whine when his hand grips your thigh under the table.

“What are you doing?” comes his voice, more a rumble than speech, low and quiet. His eyes remain closed, only his lips pout when you retract your hand. “Nothing.”

“It felt too nice for a nothing,” he fights back a yawn and finally his dark eyes meet yours. You return the smile he gives you, and as always you give in.

Your gaze follows the movement of your hand just so you don’t have to look at him, but you know he watches your hand too. He chuckles when you resume your actions. After a moment, he takes your hand in his, your fingers easily sliding between his. He pulls your hand to his lips, kissing the back of it, and his touch is so warm. It’s so simple. It’s so ordinary. And yet something flutters in your belly.

He lies your hands back between you, letting go only to prompt you to continue. And so you do - you caress his hand, from his fingertips to his wrist and back. Then, tracing his veins like roads on a map, you venture your touch further up his forearm. All the while you’re aware of his eyes on you, of the tender smile on his lips.

“How did I deserve all this attention?” he asks, and there’s no hint of teasing. Maybe the morning made him lazy and starving for touch too.

“You always have my full attention.”

“Uh-huh, that’s why you’re ogling the guys on tv all the time.”

“I just like the characters, Soohyuk,” you roll your eyes but the smile stays on your lips, “And you’re jealous even if it’s your character.”

“Maybe,” he whispers. You huff quietly and let your hand rest over his, your fingers again instinctively intertwining with his.

“I just like your hands.”

“You seem to like them a lot,” again, no teasing. Soohyuk’s voice is so warm. His thumb raises up to caress the side of your hand. 

“More than a lot,” you admit. You raise your eyes, see him watching you with a lazy smile on his lips. It’s like he can look into your soul. You’d believe that. And as you watch him watching you, you wonder and you doubt-

“Don’t,” he whispers, but not unkindly, “I love you.”

It’s so easy to repeat the words with just as much honesty.

“Want to hear my favorite thing?” he slides his hand from underneath yours and towards you, and you let it curl around your waist and pull you closer to him. A nod is enough of an answer.

“Your back,” he says and as he does so, his hand follows the dip of your spine. You laugh, shaking your head.

“Don’t laugh,” he chides, “It’s hot.”

“My back is hot?” you raise a brow at him. He pulls himself even closer, his lips now brushing against yours but he doesn’t allow you the luxury of a kiss.

“Well, you think my hands are hot too,” he waits for your guilty confirmation before he continues, “And I think it’s hot when I see your naked back.” He finally lets your lips meet, if only for a second.

“Right after a shower, when I know you can still feel me inside you,” he whispers before another too-short kiss. It takes his soft shushing you to stop you before you can whine. “With your hair still wet and dripping down your back.”

Your body is flush against his, searing hot under the covers. His lips keep pressing against yours, his tongue only teasing your lips before he pulls away.

“That’s when I know you’re all mine,” he continues, “And then you put on my shirt and I’m gone.”

Finally. Finally he pushes you onto your back and covers your body with his. His lips finally stay glued to yours, kissing you breathless and senseless. Your hands rake through his hair, and you close your eyes and entrust all that you are to him.

[healix17]

Attention, Megop fans! 🖤✨

I've got a challenge for all the megop fanfiction writers out there! I recently made an intense, emotional MegOp scene where Megatron almost destroys the egg Optimus laid, only to realize their daughter, Arlet (pulled that name out of my butt), is still alive. It's a heart-wrenching moment filled with tension, grief, and a bittersweet connection between the two.

Now, I want to see how your imaginations can expand this scene! Take this moment and run with it—write a fanfiction that explores what happens before, after, or even in an alternate version of this encounter.

How do Optimus and Megatron cope with their loss?

What might their future hold after such a pivotal moment?

Will Arlet come back?

The story's up to you, but remember to keep the emotions raw and the stakes high.

I can't wait to see what you all come up with! Drop your fics in the comments or tag me—I’ll be reading them all!

And it's not about skills, it's about creativity.

Animations and fan arts are also acceptable!

Any hoo:

Megatron's grip tightened around the egg, the urge to crush it overwhelming. But before he could act, Optimus's voice broke through the silence.

"W... Wait!"

Megatron froze, his optics narrowing in confusion. "What is it, Optimus?" he growled, his voice thick with menace.

Optimus's gaze was locked on the egg. "I... Is she moving?" He knew, with an undeniable certainty, that it was a daughter. He was the carrier, after all.

Megatron's optics widened as the meaning of Optimus's words sank in.

*'No... it can't be...'*

His hand, poised to destroy, hesitated. He felt the egg carefully, searching for any sign of life.

And then he felt it—a faint, fragile pulse.

His face paled. "Yes... She is... She's alive..." A rare conflict flashed in his optics, torn between the instinct to destroy and the spark of mercy he'd long buried.

With uncharacteristic gentleness, Megatron rocked the egg, then slowly placed it into the crook of Optimus's arms.

"Why do you care so much about this... thing?" Megatron's voice was laced with confusion, unable to fathom the depth of Optimus's compassion.

"This 'thing' is our daughter, Megatron," Optimus murmured, cradling her close. "Even if her life is fleeting, she deserves more than a terrifying death. She can feel, she exists... unlike a certain mech who seems to have forgotten what it means to care."

Megatron's fierce expression softened, a flicker of protectiveness igniting within him as he gazed at their daughter. He hesitantly reached out, his fingers brushing against her tiny form. "She's... so small," he murmured, his voice unsteady.

"She hasn't even fully formed yet," Optimus replied, a tender hum escaping his lips as he soothed her. "Her time is short... Do you want to say anything to her before she goes?"

Megatron hesitated, then leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to her delicate helm. "I'm sorry, little one," he whispered, voice barely a breath. "You shouldn't have had to come into this world just to suffer."

Her tiny hand grasped his finger with surprising strength, a fleeting sign of life. But then, her grip slackened, life slipping away.

"Sleep well, Arlet," Optimus whispered, placing a final kiss on her fragile helm. "Perhaps one day, you'll awaken again... our daughter, once more."

"Arlet..." Megatron echoed, the name lingering on his lips. "It's beautiful." His optics shimmered with unshed tears as he watched the last of her life fade away in Optimus's arms. "I hope so too, Optimus."

Optimus remained strong, holding on for Arlet. And Megatron, in turn, held onto Optimus, his strength faltering only for a moment as the reality of their loss settled in.

"A... Arlet!" Optimus's voice cracked, the weight of their grief too much to bear.

Megatron wrapped his arms around Optimus, pulling him close. "Shh, it's alright," he murmured, his voice muffled against Optimus's shoulder. "She's at peace now. We'll grieve together... and one day, we'll try again."

One day.

[tinytinybumblebee]

thank you again for being willing to receive my fics 🥺👉👈🥺🥺😭 i have another part to the one I sent in before… i hope you enjoy, sorry for the long long message :,D it’s kind of an essay sorry ;;

———

“Hey, hey, sweet thing, it’s okay, it’s okay, I’m sorry I let go of you, I thought you didn’t want to be touched, shh, shh,” Tav spoke quickly, putting his hands around Astarion’s back. 

Astarion grasps around, finding the crook of Tav’s neck and burying his face in. A long, pained whine left his throat.

“…I think bathtime is over,” Tav whispers.

The little vampire stares up with watery eyes. “…Sow‘y…”

“No, no, shh,” Tav lifts him out of the bath, the cold air biting at his skin and only making him want to snuggle in closer. “You did so well. My brave boy.”

Astarion gives him a hopeful look. Brave? He’s brave? Tav seems to sense his silent question and lightly taps his nose.

“Yes, you’re so brave!” he coos. “You’ve been my brave little boy all day long.”

That wouldn’t even describe half of it, really, but Astarion was far too little to talk about everything that had happened. With the little smile sneaking its way onto his gaunt face, he seemed perfectly happy to be called a brave boy for facing the bathtub. 

“B’ave,” he smiles to himself, happy enough with the praise to not notice Tav wrapping him in a towel, nice and snug.

He only notices when Tav properly cradles him again and, without access to his hands, can’t grab fistfuls of his caregiver’s shirt to cuddle in closer. This realization is met with a pout and a bit of squirming, busy little mind having all but forgotten his pride over being called brave now that this minor inconvenience was in his way. 

And ever the attentive carer, Tav picks up on it right away.

“Oh, now, what are we pouty about, little love? You were so happy a second ago.”

“…Cuddle,” Astarion sulks—even the immense amount of emotional turmoil he’s endured today can’t keep down his impatience, his dramatics, and his dramatic impatience.

“Oh,” Tav tries to stifle a laugh—he knows Astarion has been through enough today, and to his regressed self, something like this is indeed a very big deal. “Oh, dada’s right here, baby, I won’t go anywhere. I just need to get you dried off and dressed and then you can have all the cuddles you want. Brave little boys like you deserve lots of dada cuddles.”

“Cuddle now,” Astarion whines.

Tav said he wouldn’t go away, but what if he did? What if he woke up back in Cazador’s palace to find out this had all been a dream? That there was no freedom, no safety, no dada? No, he needed cuddles now, before that could happen. He tries to squirm out of his little towel cocoon, to touch Tav, to make sure this is all still real.

“Ah-ah, no, Astarion,” Tav holds him steady. “Be patient, please. You don’t want to cuddle before I get you in your pretty clothes. You’ll get so cold, and that’s no fun, is it?”

Astarion whines again, a bit louder this time. No! He doesn’t want to wait! It doesn’t help anything! He waited 200 years for the day he could take his freedom back and he was still just as scared and sad as before now that it was finally here! He writhes more, grabbing about blindly as he tries to shake free of the towel.

“Oh, Astarion…”

Astarion is being laid on his back. Somewhere. He knows dada’s hands are further away than ever, and he hates that. His throat is raw from all the crying and screaming today, but he shrieks regardless, kicking and pounding his heels on the ground as the towel falls away. There isn’t much touch beyond a hand brushing his, but he isn’t having it.

For Tav’s part, he remains kneeled beside him. It’s a strange sight, a full-blown kicking and screaming tantrum from a grown man, but he doesn’t judge, doesn’t raise his voice, doesn’t try and hold Astarion’s arms down. It hurts to leave his baby to kick, scream and cry like this, but it’s all Tav can do. It’s been a huge day. Poor Astarion has so many emotions to get out. The best course of action, Tav thinks, is to step back and wait for the elfling to get all his big feelings out.

Or most of them, anyway.

When Astarion’s cries turn to shallow hiccups, Tav fully closes his hand around his. “There we are. Shhh. I know, little star. You have so many big feelings for such a little one. Is this better, now that you’ve gotten them all out? Or some of them, at least. Don’t you feel less icky now?”

Astarion sniffles and nods. But judging by the pout remaining on his face, he doesn’t like that Tav was right about him just needing a good, hard cry; some of that distaste including his regular adult mind that couldn’t help sneaking its way back into his otherwise regressed headspace just to writhe in embarrassment for his own behavior. 

“Okay, fussy boy,” Tav chuckles good-naturedly, brushing some curls out of Astarion’s eyes. “Now that we have all that yucky energy out, let’s sit nice and still for dada, alright? The sooner you’re dressed, the sooner you’ll be warm…”

Ever since he kicked off the towel, especially now that he was cooling down from the stress of his fit, Astarion was finding it a bit cold…

“…and the sooner you’ll get to cuddle with dada, all you want.”

Astarion’s eyes widen as he looks up to Tav. Now that sounds like a good deal. Conniption all but forgotten, he tries his hardest to lay still for him. Admittedly, it does get a bit hard to not squirm when Tav’s hand draws closer to certain places, but Tav proves his intentions again and again as he works, every spot of “bad touch” quickly brushed over. 

With Astarion fully cooperative now, Tav is able to diaper him without any fussing or insistence on being a big boy (clearly he’d given up the need for pride), then slip a long, baggy red shirt over his head. With its loose, soft fabric and golden trim, it looked like it would have made for rather tasteful clothes, but a few sizes too big for most people at camp, Tav knew it would instead make for perfect pajamas for his little star. Case and point, Astarion is already running his fingers over the fleecy fabric. Tav stops him before he can finish his little inspection, though—considering for a baby-brained Astarion, that meant he was going to start chewing on it. 

While he doesn’t whine at having the sleeve taken from his mouth, he does give Tav a sour look no different than one he’d use while big. 

“Ah-ah-ah, don’t give me that look,” Tav pokes his nose, a little gesture that makes Astarion’s scowl shatter like glass, unable to contain a tiny giggle. “That’s not something we put in our mouths, is it?”

Astarion pokes his tongue out. The fabric was just so soft and swishy! What was the harm in a little nibbling? Tav gives an exaggerated gasp of scandal. “Oh, you little rebel!” Astarion smirks in response, but Tav soon smirks back. “I guess that sleeve is more interesting than your paci, then?”

Astarion perks up. His paci? In his state of mind, he’d completely forgotten about the pack of regression supplies he had stashed away in his corner of camp or the inn. 

“Bab-ee?” he babbles, trying to say “paci”, but the tension had left him feeling even littler than before, and words slipped uselessly off his loosened tongue.

“Paci?” Tav tries, reaching into a small pouch and pulling out a red pacifier, the bulb covered in little bite marks from the many times Astarion wanted a teether, but even regressed, was too prideful to ask. 

“Ba-ey!” he coos happily, letting Tav pop the soother in his mouth.

Whatever tension still in him seems to slip away as nursing on the pacifier gives him that final push into the tiniest headspace possible. Tiny, free, loved, in a time far from when Cazador took him. A little newborn who had never known hardship. If you asked  Astarion normally, he would say he loathed regularly regressing so small. But, as with many things, being little made him more inclined to be honest about those feelings, and it was clear that while Astarion hated the helplessness Cazador inflicted on him, this was something else entirely.

As he loosely paws at Tav’s hand, coordination failing him, he knows someone is there to care for him. This kind of helpless has no struggle. Just happiness, and dada’s warm smile as he tries to guide Astarion to a sitting position.

“It’s like posing a sack of potatoes,” Tav huffs, and Astarion giggles in turn, letting himself ragdoll back to the floor. “Oh, you! You’re doing that on purpose, aren’t you?”

OwAaaahhHHHHHH OH MY GOODNESS 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺💖💖💖💖 C R Y I N G this continuation has my heart filling SO MUCH LOEV😭💖💖💖💖 Astarion getting all those big feelings out and Tav being so gentle and caring while his little star expresses and fits aaaAAAAA

Your writing is positively phenomenal and aaa????🥺💖💖💖💖💖

[anysin]

Fic: Reward For The Faithful

For @flo-nelja and the prompt "Do you think you deserve this?", here is a dark Knives/Legato set in Trigun Maximum after Knives forces Vash to blow a hole in the moon or whatever! Darkly sexy, warning for violence and CBT.

Reward For The Faithful

Knives makes sure that Legato can see Vash the Stampede stumbling away in stupor, still breathing, still alive.

"You touch him, you touch him at all, and I will kill you on this spot," Knives hisses at him, his foot on Legato's neck. "I will rise to glory, but you won't get to see it. Is that what you want your end to be?"

Legato stares after Vash's increasingly distant figure. His body is wrecked by pain, his mind struggling to understand the depth of it, but even now Legato could easily reach out for Vash, and crush him until there is no air left him. He should do it. Vash is worthless, and Knives's one flaw, one flaw that Legato has to confess exists, is that he can't see it.

However, wringing Legato's desire to resist right out of him is not one of Knives's flaws.

"No," Legato whispers, letting his body fall slack against the ground.

His legs are tangled beneath him, useless to him now. There is still some sensation left in his lower body, but that's mostly useless to him too; if it was just his own fate that mattered, Legato wouldn't care, but Knives's well-being always comes before his own. His master needs all the allies he can get for the battle ahead of him, and none of his followers have his best interests in mind the way Legato does. He will find a away to make himself useful to Knives again, he swears. But right this second, he lies there passively as Knives pulls his foot away from his neck, circling around his broken body until he's standing by Legato's legs.

"You really thought you had any right to harm him?" Knives asks. "You really thought you were worthy enough?"

He kicks Legato's legs apart; they flail like legs of a puppet, just as limp and boneless. Legato barely feels it, but when Knives brings his foot between his thighs, to his groin, Legato jumps at the touch, his breath catching in his throat. Knives presses down with his foot, hard and fast; Legato has swallowed cries over this sort of pain before, but now he lets himself scream, knowing it's what his master wants. What Knives deserves to hear.

"I would do anything for your sake," Legato says in reply.

Knives scoffs, kicking Legato between his legs. Legato's body cramps, his hands clenching up into fists before he knows it, but he forces himself back on the ground, taking the next kick, the third, the fourth. It's agonizing, but also a bliss; it's been so long since he has had his master's attention, seen him brim with emotion like this. It's a sight to drown in. It's a blessing.

"You think you deserve this?" Knives snarls. "You think you deserve to even have my eyes on you?"

Legato shakes his head immediately.

"I don't even deserve to have you know that I exist," he says, meaning every word.

"That is all true." Knives's foot comes between his legs again, but this time lightly. It rests on his groin, and despite the pain, Legato is warm and hard. "But here is something you have forgotten: all of this applies to Vash tenfold."

Knives smiles.

"And it's only for him that I do this," Knives says, stroking his foot over Legato's groin before drawing it away.

It's the gentlest Knives has ever been to him.

Only for him.

Legato has never hated Vash more.

[simpingwriter]

#15 'Blood Loss' Pt.1

Queen B Ford x OC

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A/N: This isn't going to be a big fic, just a two parter. I read about people wanting something for Ford Tuantie from Queen B and I can 100% see why. I love his dumb ass too and boi do I wish we could done more than just hook up once ;[ As much as I love Ian, damn, Ford owns my heart.

Also, there is a bigger part of my version's MC in the play here that you can't really know about, since it's something that was supposed to be uncovered and be talked about in the Main Story (Ian x Leah) but yeah...to 99% it will never come to that and I like hurting my Characters too much to make a nicer alternative background :)

Enjoy~

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It was just two weeks in of you and Bea joining Belvoire's Ranks that you were left all on your own. Winfrey Dorms was boring with only chicks around too, the only two friends you had here out on their own in the city. You didn't want to interrupt their bonding, so you told them to go on their own.

Instead, you slinked around near the Football field, somewhat sad that you couldn't join the team yourself. You "grew up" in a row of schools that, if both genders fit well and played well together, they could also form ONE team.

In Belvoire, the closest you got to the field of sports day was as a cheerleader. But in that case, you did your best to shine on top.

After all, who would you be if you wasted all these years of "flexibility" training in high-school?

Reaching the field, you already spotted the "Alphas" that made up the School's Football Team. Already a week in, you made the same realization you made all these years back in high-school: Next to starting petty cat fights, the Jocks are your favorite group to mingle in. And that even though you weren't any part less feminine than the rest of the girls at Belvoire. If you really wanted to look like a Barbie, you would outshine all their fake asses.

But listening to a group of all too adorable meatheads fight for your gracious feminine attention every time they spot you coming near them? What an adrenaline boost. What an ego boost.

Not that it was already big, rightly so too.

Your favorite of the bunch saw you from a distance already, the exhausted expression and the added frown almost immediately being wiped away, you loved the effect you had on him. (If he only knew the effect he left on you! The ugly inner turmoil he gave you.)

"Leah! Didn't think to see you here today! We saw Bea and Zoey leave Campus earlier, thought you went with them!" Ford eagerly began chatting you up, the Football formerly in his hands long long forgotten as he pushed it back into Luis' hands. He clearly didn't care that the others also had their eyes glued to you, but mostly your neatly hugged curves. After all, you did dress to secretly impress. Every day is a good day to knock some jocks off their feet. Even if they would never get a touchdown. None of them ever will…never.

"I left them to do their shop mingling on their own."

Ford looks just a bit shocked (and yet...relieved?), blinking at you, "Didn't I overhear some of the Zetas talk about the newest limited something stuff coming today?" It hurt your pride that he thought you're just like all these other fashion crazed Zetas. Nonetheless that you aren't even a Zeta.

"One of the most important things I want you to know about me, I don't run after and or follow each new trend like it's the hottest boy toy of the week. I actually have my own taste and stay with that one~"

You whisper the last sentence at him with a seductive grin, locking eyes with him as his mouth falls open wider. Are you a bitch for teasing him? Maybe.

You're interested in fashion just like you're interested in men: Stick to something, don't just throw it away because it no longer is the hottest talk. But once said fashion piece/man no longer treats you the way you deserve (with mutual respect), you will look for your new inspiration.

Oh well, not like you let any man be your inspiration for some while now anyways.

But oh my, does Ford inspire your fashion sense. That's a truly horrible sign.

Unfortunately he has a "rumor" following him, that he slept with half of Zeta and a bunch of other girls in Belvoire. Like hell would a man like him actually see more in you than a quick fling. Something you didn't do.

Not after Tommy, he showed you what real love looked like...

You promised yourself back then to never let someone reach your heart again, romantically at least. You were certain no man could do the things Tommy did for you. Be so caring. Be so loving. Be so gentle. Be so…perfect.

Maybe he was right when he said he ruined you and that he hated himself for that fact. But back then you told him that wouldn't matter as long you never had to look or think about another man the same way as you thought about him.

Unbeknownst to you, one week after Tommy's tearful rant about the nature of your undoubtedly inappropriate relationship…he was no more.

Dead.

Murderer.

Drowned in the algae and bacteria infested waters of the park's fountain.

That also marked the first day of your promise.

So why the fucking hell was a simple jock, one not nearly as educated or tactful as Tommy, slowly and unknowingly, scratching through your barriers already after two weeks?!

Ah no, he wasn't, right?

"Leah, you okay? You're spacing out a bit…and you look a bit pale too actually!" Ford inquired worried, eyebrows furrowed as he got closer. Oh god, n-no, stay away, pleaseeee. Not you. Why you?

But before you can even put up an ounce of protest, Eric butts in, "Yeah, he is right, you really don't look so hot…like, I mean, you always look hot, but right now- I mean, you're still hot right no-" "I think means he agrees, you should go sit down…" Carter saves Eric from digging his own grave any deeper as Ford escorts you to the closest bench.

He shortly left you on your own, your thoughts shortly put on hold as you caught yourself looking after him, guilt for teasing him creeping up inside of you. While all of the Jocks were extremely nice, Ford was the biggest sweetheart of them all.

He was one of the very first standing on your side the day Poppy tried to hand you your ass. Instead, you turned the tables and you remembered his voice clearly being the loudest as the crowd that formed beforehand started cheering and chanting.

Of all of the guys, you two also hung out the most. You just felt awful for him when you saw his grades, Man dresses sharp but damn, he got a serious case of smooth brains for some subjects. Namely Science, Biology and Chemistry. But he was decent at Law, being somewhat able to efficiently learn that with you. Though said learning sessions had a stupidly high chance of getting interrupted by some stupid chick trying to talk him up, which of fucking course always succeeded. (No you're NOT jealous, why should you be?!)

Which then left you to study on your own and him whining to you when he messed up another pop quiz the next day.

"Here, it's cold too. Courtesy of our ice box!" He smiles through his obvious concern for you as he sits down. As you unscrew the cap of the plastic bottle, from the corner of your eyes you still catch the slight shimmy he did, he planned to sit closer to you but apparently decided against it in the last split of a second. So now he sat a decent and proper distance...

. . .

Why the fuck are you disappointed again? Didn't you tell yourself you're not going to JUST hook up with people?

"You look-" "-Not so hot?" You interrupt quietly, reusing Eric's stumble from before, Ford holding his hands up in defense almost immediately as the others continue their training but undoubtedly keeping their eyes on you two, just as curious as the girls in the end.

"No, never, I mean…I think…no I mean it, you actually look great…amazing." He whispers the last part under his breath like you wouldn't hear it, scrubbing his shoes across the healthy green grass under and in front of the bench, shockingly nervous for someone so lucky with getting the girls all over Belvoire.

Wait.

He thinks you look amazing?

"What I mean…you just had this…what do you call it? Looking across yards stare?"

Thousand yard stare. Oh Ford, don't ever change…

"Sure, let's go with that. And well, I got my reasons I guess. Can't always be happy, smiley and ready to kick ass…" you murmur, sipping absentmindedly on the nearly frozen water bottle. But damn made the half frozen ice in it make the water taste like a gift from the gods. In all your campus wandering, you didn't even realize how hot it really was today. It was smoldering, any second now you would see a Fata Morgana you were sure!

"I won't push. Just please be safe, I wouldn't want you to collapse…i don't want to know what would happen if Poppy ran into you during such a thing…" His worry was back full force and you couldn't help but smile at him, he really was a huge sweetheart in the end. So it didn't surprise you when he gasped in short shock as you hugged him, his training gear sweaty and definitely not smelling clean. But you could care less, knowing you had people once again to talk to…if you would open up to them fully someday.

You looked a bit puzzled as the others suddenly stopped their training to hurry off the field, you're about to ask Ford about it when you heard a familiar clicking, only for the sprinklers of the field to start spraying cold water just as Eric got out of the hit line.

Afraid to get a little wet, are they?

Ford distracted by Luis jokingly punching his shoulders, muttering something you actively chose to ignore, you get an idea. "Carter, keep my phone dry, please?" You ask rhetorically with a mischievous grin as you place said object in his conveniently open palm.

Before anyone could really object to you moving so soon again after Ford placed you onto the timeout bench, you swung yourself off it and took off in a quick pace.

Right into the cold spray of water.

Oh and it felt great!

"You would be a horrible prison guard, Ford…" Eric points towards you, Ford only noticing when he saw you move past him and the spot next to him turning up empty.

"Come on, join me! Or are you all made of sugar?!"

Just as Luis is about to be first to enthusiastically rejoin you on the field, you see Carter look at Ford, also standing up already. He held Luis back with the hand not holding your phone, said Bro looking at him in something that looked like 'Why would you stab a brother in the back like that??' as he could only watch Ford join you on his own.

If that wasn't a true wingman, you don't know who is!

The fine spray of water lets you cool down enough to get feeling back in your limbs, picking up the forgotten football from the ground, throwing it up in the air, once. Twice. Thrice. Everytime a bit higher, till it hits nearly five seconds of air time on its way up alone.

During that, Ford had finally joined you, watching you catch it with staggering grace. "You catch like a pro." He noticed with a boyish smile as the water now pelted his face. Now you could no longer tell if it was sweat or sprinkler water making the dimples of his smile stand out as he angled his head downwards to look at you.

"Well, I did play in High-school actually…" You confess, with that Ford being the first in Belvoire to know a part of your background. And he seems to realize that, "Wait really?!", since if you had told someone else beforehand, gossip would have brought said secret to all their ears much much earlier.

"I did a lot of things before coming to Belvoire~" You sing playfully, quickly backing up from Ford before he could use your rare moment of openness to squeeze more secrets out of you. A woman needed to stay mysterious to stay interesting, no? Especially for a boy like Ford.

Not that you wanted that kind of attention…never.

Is what you told yourself to feel better on days like these.

With his nearly doe eyed smile, he realized your game and awaited your throw.

Not after you held out for so long…

With the best form you took with you from your old position on your old school team, you throw the ball towards him. It was a nearly perfect arch as it closed in on him. He didn't expect such a good throw still apparently, eyes wide as he hurried to back up more himself, eyes on the Football.

But not on the slippery ground.

And just as he caught the football, he lost his footing, almost comically slipping backwards, feet high in the air as he hit the ground with an 'oof!' and the last huff of air leaving his lungs as he ended up spread eagle.

And then he started laughing.

"Ooooooh, haha! I didn't expect that! Time for revenge!" As quick as he fell, he got back up.

From the benches, his teammates have to hold back their almost petty little chuckles, having a perfect view of his completely mudded back. After all, he just got his ass handed to him by a girl. Ouch.

He throws with all his might, groaning at the way he pulled half his body with it.

And realizes his mistake way too late.

While you were ready for a strong throw, you didn't calculate the fact that he felt like he had to show you up, girl or not. So this one flew way…way too quick!

The now wet ball slipped right through your grip and crashed directly into your nose. Any other girl or maybe even any other man would've lost their footing, but you took the blow with a quiet growl in your throat, flashing Ford a competitive half grin. And then you felt the first drop of blood hit your upper lip.

"Oh fuck! I'm so sorry! I forgo-" "Is that all you got, darling? I had harder throws hit me!" You interrupt with your snarky sass flaring up, one hand swiping away the now clearly rushing nosebleed, the other going for the ball.

"I hate it when people hold back just because I look like a fragile girl. That accounts to both the field and the bedroom!"

You catch Ford swallow and start to blush at your mention of your bedroom. But damn, he looked like he seriously felt bad right now.

Only one way to change that!

"CATCH!" You yell out out of the blue and in moments notice, it took Ford back to concentrate. He might not be the brightest tool in the shed (and tbh, you didn't care as long you could still find ways to talk to him about interesting topics!) but he knew his way around on the field still and knew when his concentration was asked for and needed.

Your now raging nosebleed was forgotten entirely as you two continued passing the ball, playing out small strategies you both seem to have memorized to the T, long enough for the rest of his wingmen to retire for the day and going to shower without him, Carter calling out that he left your Phone on the bench, leaving him alone with you. By now, your formerly just wet, white, dress was just as muddy as Ford's training shirt and shorts were, the front of your dress specifically covered in a fresh line of nose blood.

Thankfully not one Zeta or any other girl in particular got close to the Football field unless it was to swoon over the players during a game. Otherwise your rugged up ass would be all over The T already.

Oh but the Nosebleed didn't stay forgotten for all too long.

As it somehow didn't appear to stop.

Could your overly physical activity possibly be the cause of that? The rising adrenaline and blood pressure that kept your heart beating faster than what cars probably were allowed to go out on German highways?

No, never. Righ-

As if he saw it coming from a mile away, Ford saw you stagger before you did yourself, running torwards you with a shout of your name, ignoring your goddamn great throw, asshole!

"Hey, don't…you fucked up…your catc- huhh…?" The fact that you're actively falling only caught up with you halfway to the ground, but Ford magically caught you. Well, you still hit the ground, but Ford's upper body softened the blow significantly.

For a moment, okay a minute probably, you stay in that position, only moving your head to keep your already probably broken nose from being reformed and remangled a second time today.

Was it this quiet the whole time already?

Where did the other guys suddenly go?

You weren't sure if it was the just slightly serious blood loss or if you were just stupid in the end still, but ever since you lost him…you haven't felt as safe as today. On the muddy, wet and sweaty-warm chest of a jock after you crash landed due to a nosebleed he may or may not have caused beforehand.

"Thanks…" you mutter over the still busy sprinklers spraying you two from overhead, birds chirping idly in the nearby trees and butterflies on the flowers and in someone's stupid backstabbing stomach it seems.

"We should have stopped when it first started, this is all my fault…" Ford laments with a deep frown, helping you sit up. But all your hands grabbed at was him, steadying yourself against him.

Blood Loss makes people lose more than just Blood but apparently all of the build up walls that took years to perfect.

So when he asked if he should help you back towards Winfrey Dorms, you agreed nearly too eagerly, nodding like you just had the hardest edible of your whole school life, dizziness making it hard on moving any faster with your head.

You barely register him holding back a small smile as he doesn't just help you stand up and walk. Instead he uses his muscles for something beyond Football and does short work of your light weight, carrying you off the wet football field in both his arms…

________________

Note: Don't hold me at gun point to post part 2 tomorrow, by now yall should know how I play ;[

[inkedstarlight]

in darkness we stand

Kingdom of Ashes spoilers below

This is my first Elorcan fic in which we see what Lorcan was thinking after he was attacked during the battle. This is actually a rewrite from the same story I wrote back in 2020. It’s just a little longer and better written because I do love this POV. Let me know if you’d like to see more Elorcan!

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

The sprawling plain of Anielle, once snowy and serene, was now buried beneath piles of dead bodies. Hundreds of soldiers who hadn’t yet succumbed to Hellas’s wrath swung their swords wildly in every direction, their heavy boots trampling the forgotten fallen. Limbs were crushed and bones crunched. The sounds of men screaming and steel hitting steel was deafening. A bloodbath, that’s what it was.

A demi-Fae soldier fought in the thick throngs of battle, his blade unrelenting in its slaughter.

You’re a monster, Elide’s words echoed in his mind again and again as he cut down soldier after soldier. She was right, after all.

He threw his power at the small group of soldiers that began to charge at him when a treacherous boom exploded throughout the valley.

The dam.

Lorcan dared to shift his attention to the dam for the briefest of moments. Long enough to see that the Morath soldiers had broken the dam.

He stood there panting with exhaustion, watching the battle around him in slow motion. Blood was raining down, dirt kicked up. Everything quieted.

What’s the point? that small voice in his head that’d haunted him for centuries whispered. Elide despised him. He was utterly alone in this gods-damned world. No one was going to save him.

The sword that hung from his hand fell to the muddy earth. The magical shield he’d put around himself faded into nothingness.

Someone approached him, and with the flash of a steel blade, Lorcan Salvaterre’s world went dark.

He barely felt the impact of the ground as he fell, his body limp. He was swimming in a sea of black, searing pain hitting him in waves.

His lips parted to moan in agony, but he was too exhausted to utter a single sound. Lorcan knew if he looked down at his body, he would see his stomach in ribbons, his insides threatening to spill out. He felt the warm blood trickling down his abdomen, pooling around his crushed body. It was drowning him in death.

Darkness once again collapsed onto him as body after body collapsed on him. Lorcan smelled the lifelessness of them. He could only hope it was Morath soldiers and not his own men dying on top of him. Piling on top of him one by one, death ruthless and unceasing. 

Lorcan didn’t try to fight it. He was so, so tired. 

So he waited. He had no idea how long he waited for the darkness to claim him: minutes, hours, days. He was ready for it – he had been ready for centuries.

But a voice inside him whispered something over and over again. A name. A prayer.

Elide.

The mere thought of her was the only thing that was able to ease the pain, if only a little bit. They were mates, after all.

He had known for a while now. There wasn’t a mating bond that had snapped into place; Elide was human. But it went far beyond that. It was more than a magical tether that tied them together. It was his magic that braced her mangled foot. It was the kisses she so gently planted on his lips. The way he looked at her, and she at him. The way her delicate fingers wrapped around his large hand. Her soft against his rough.

It went beyond immortality.

Lorcan never told her. Gods, she hated him for what he’d done. He hated himself, too. Telling her they were bound to each other… Lorcan didn’t think he could handle her disgust. She would laugh in his face at such a ridiculous claim. And Lorcan didn’t blame her. He only blamed himself. For centuries, guilt had plagued him wherever he went. Continent to continent, he was unable to escape its grasp. 

And he deserved it.

Perhaps it was good that he would be gone. Elide would find someone worthy of her. She would marry a noble man. His chest got tight. Elide was going to be the greatest Lady that Erilea had ever seen. 

I wanted to go to Perranth with you. 

I’m sorry.

I will always find you.

I love you.

Every word had been true. Every damn word was a promise and a vow in and of itself. In all his miserable years, he had never wanted something so bad. To travel to Perranth with Elide. To rebuild her home together. To then build a family together. All for her.

A lump formed in his throat as another wave of excruciating pain hit him. He couldn’t let himself think about what could have happened. What the future may have held, the happiness they may have found.

He no longer had a future.

Lorcan!

It was Elide. She was screaming helplessly, her voice cracking and oh gods, where was she—

He gritted his teeth, refusing to let himself hope as Elide’s voice rang in his head. He was dying. Elide was safe behind the walls of Orynth. Elide was safe. She was safe. 

A sob broke from his lips as the realization hit. Lorcan was never going to see the love of his life again. He no longer had the chance to give Elide the life he wanted to promise her. His chest cleaved in two.

Lorcan!

He cursed himself. Stop it, you fool, it’s not real. 

LORCAN!

Her voice got louder in his head. It was torture. When will it end? He willed himself to succumb to the pain.

But then—

“Lorcan!”

Her petrified scream pierced his ears.

This is real.

Why was she out here? She could be killed, for fuck’s sake. He wouldn’t let that happen. His fingers twitched as he tried to move, to get to her. Every limb in his body remained still.

Move, gods-dammit!

His entire body shook as he summoned the little energy he had left to push away the demon corpses that he laid under. A hoarse grunt left his mouth. How he was moving, he had no idea.

As he pushed away the last corpse, brightness hit Lorcan, blinding him from the world before him.

He blinked, adjusting to the light. Once, twice.

The ground spun beneath him, his body caked in dirt and blood, both crimson red and oily black. 

Lorcan propped himself up to find her. 

But he needn’t look long, for Elide was crouched before him, beautiful as ever. She was murmuring his name again and again, begging with him to get on the mare, begging him to live. Her onyx eyes shone with tears, her dark hair flying in the wind like a goddess. Elide was here.

She came.

With her small arms guiding him to his feet, Lorcan Salvaterre stood.

[kass-storycorner]

Rainbow Anon~

Hhhhuuuu, those sleeping asks where so cute!? Do you think you could another part with Diluc, Zhongli and Albedo having come home late, but their s/o has a nightmare later on the night due to stress? (hurt/comfort plz lol)

//I said that I needed to stop simping for all of the characters but, I literally cannot physically do that. Everybody is so beautiful;;;!!

Aaaah, hello Rainbow anon! Thank you, I'm glad you liked them!!! Also never stop simping, they really are all beautiful. Genshin is at this point a "character I simp for"-collector haha And now on to the request, thanks for sending this in, I've been struggling with every other piece I've been working on the last days so idk writing these small drabble / bullet point fics is a nice change. Though I have to apologise that the Albedo s/o hc is the only one that actually doesn’t really fulfils the request…

And I didn’t add Zhongli, I had this request for a while now in my drafts, Albedo and Diluc finished but idk I couldn’t come up with something for Zhongli and it frustrated me so now I’m posting it like this 😩

Nighttime headcanon part II. - Nightmare headcanon

Genre: Angst with comfort

Rating: SFW

Content Warnings: none I guess

Characters: Albedo, Diluc,

Format: Bullet points / HC

Albedo

Ah, he did it again. Albedo didn't intend to stay so long at the laboratory inside of the headquarters of the knights again. To be honest he had planned to come home earlier that night, but alas - he didn’t notice the passing of time again until Sucrose knocked on the door, pulling him out of the trance he gets into when he works and reminding him of the time.

When Albedo opened the door to the shared apartment it was already filled with darkness again. A deep sigh left him as he took of his coat and shoes, making his way towards the shared bedroom. He really missed going to bed with you. It was so different than joining in bed, there were no sweet good night kisses nor wishes.

Though when he walked into the bedroom he didn’t expect to see this. Normally you would sleep peacefully, the only noises coming from you would be your snores. But when Albedo saw your sleeping body in bed tonight there seemed nothing peaceful about you.

It looked like you have been tossing and turning in bed for a while, the blanket didn’t cover your body, it was already halfway on the floor. But your face was the give away - you looked so scared.

Slowly Albedo made his way to the bed, sitting down next to you, still in his clothes, not sure what he should do. It would be best to wake you up, wouldn’t it?

“No… don’t”, he heard you whimper. He really should wake you up. But something, maybe it was is damned curiosity, in him wanted to hear more. Albedo wanted to know what scared you so much in your sleep.

“Albedo, please- albedo-“ ah, a sharp pain made it’s way through Albedos heart. What were you having a nightmare about that involved him?

Albedo wanted to know more, wanted to hear more. But he couldn’t stomach how scared you sounded, scared of him, so he gently put his hand on your hair, stroking it in the hopes it might sooth your dream.

However at the touch you woke up, looking directly in Albedos eyes. Before he could say anything tears already made their way down your face, hands and arms wrapping around Albedos waist and hiding your face in his stomach.

“Hey, hey it’s fine. I’m here. It was just a nightmare”, he said in a quite and gentle voice.

But that’s it - it didn’t feel like a nightmare at all to you. The moment you woke up the dream already was forgotten, except for the last thing you saw in it. You remembered the bitter feeling of betrayal, heartbreak and you were so scared. So horribly scared. The last imagine that burned itself into your head was Albedos face, looking at you with an blank expression, his eyes empty from all of the love he had for you. It felt more like a horrible future and not a nightmare.

This was nothing you felt like you could tell Albedo… it sounded quite silly, didn’t it? And the way Albedo looks at you right now, eyes filled with worry but so much love for you. There was no way those eyes would grow cold one day, would there?

Diluc

The last few weeks have been extremely stressful, for you and Diluc. With festivities right around the corner and many new visitors in Mondstadt because of them, Diluc and you had your hands filled.

Diluc for once more as the owner of Dawn Winery than the ‘Dark Knight Hero’ ah how much he despises that name

While yes, the crime rates and suspicious behaviour just grew with the amount of new people that visited Mond - but so did the demand for his alcohol. And after some incidents with slimes and some inefficient knights - Diluc had his hands full, day and night.

And you? You were busy yourself with your work, the festivities tripled your workload too and the worst about it was: there was no time to see Diluc for more than a few minutes awake.

When you went to bed he wasn’t there and when you woke up - rarely the past weeks was he asleep next to you (only once to be honest). Most of the time he was already awake again (or maybe still awake, you couldn’t tell at how short your encounters have become).

Diluc felt horribly guilty about how he didn’t spend any time with you. Yes you both were quite busy the last weeks, but even he could feel how the stress and the lack of your sight slowly tore him down.

So tonight he decided to skip his duties as Mondstadts protector - just for this one night, wanting to spend it with you. But even then, when he arrived home, entering the shared bedroom he saw you already asleep. It wasn’t too late in the evening, but he figured that you were just exhausted. And honestly? He was too.

So Diluc decided to lay down beside you, maybe you both couldn’t spend some time awake again but for now this must be enough. Though Diluc promises to himself that once all of this madness is over again to give you the attention you deserved.

The moment Diluc took his place beside you in bed, he noticed a small shift in your behaviour. Your breathing wasn’t calm like normally and how did Diluc just notice the way your brows furrowed. It looked like you had a nightmare.

Carefully he took you in his arms, hoping to give you the comfort you need for the nightmare to end. But it did not. It seemed like it was just getting worse and when you started to cry in your sleep was when Diluc had enough.

Softly he wiped away the tears, whispering “hey (y/n), it’s fine. Wake up, it’s just a dream, it’s okay”.

His soft touch and quite words woke you up, finding yourself in his arms. What? How and when?

You pressed your face into his chest, taking in his smell. Ah. How much you missed him, all of it. You felt how Diluc planted a kiss on your head.

“Are you alright Darling?”, he asks and you sigh at the sound of his voice, at with how much love and concern in it he asks. You shift a bit, now being able to see in his eyes in the dark. “It’s fine I’m- I’m just stressed.” His thumb trailed the dark circles under your eyes. “To me it seems like you are more than stressed.”

“I just couldn’t sleep because of it that well the last days, it’s fine”, at your words Diluc shot you a look of concern. “It’s not okay, since when do you have these nightmares?”. You hid your face again in his chest before mumbling out your answer. “It’s only when I sleep alone.”

Diluc felt a wave of guilt go through him. Only having those nightmares when you slept alone? Now to come to think of it, Diluc hasn’t slept next to you in the past few days (that idiot hasn’t slept much at all)

Squeezing you in his arms he lays his chin down on your head, promising you that you won’t have to fall asleep alone anymore. And he’s here now. It’s okay.

After a while you fall asleep, Diluc listening to your calm and soft breathing until he falls asleep himself.

Both of you had to wake up early that morning, but when Adeleine walked into the bedroom to wake you - ah, you two looked so peaceful in bed together and she just hadn’t the heart to disturb that peace.

[spacexcowgirl]

Hate To Think About You With Somebody Else - F.W.

Fred Weasley x Reader

Summary: Fred and Y/N used to be friends with benefits, but that arrangement ended in heartbreak. Can Fred handle seeing her out with somebody else?

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings: 18+ NSFW. MINORS DNI. Mentions of alcohol, mentions of blood, small bit of violence/fight scene (the reader and Fred are not injured), possessive talk, fingering, degradation, bondage, orgasm denial, unprotected sex, a bit angsty with a happy ending. Please let me know if I’ve forgotten anything!

A/N: For @theweasleytwinsgirl​ who asked for the reader teasing Fred, leading to her being tied up! I added a bit of plot to it, because I cannot help it. Obviously, this fic is lightly inspired by “Somebody Else” by The 1975. I am not very confident in my smut writing abilities, so any feedback would be appreciated! I also feel I should thank @lumosandnoxwriting for giving me advice and reassurance throughout writing this. Pictures are from Pinterest.

I have not included all of my general taglist, because I do not know who is 18+ or who wants to be tagged in smut.

Fred, George, Angelina, and Alicia sat leisurely around the twins’ shared living room, laughing and giggling over drinks. The past few weeks had been hell at the shop, so the boys felt they needed a much deserved night to just relax. Previously, Fred would have liked nothing more than to relieve his tension with Y/N, but unfortunately, that was no longer an option. 

“Have you heard about Y/N and Pucey?” Angelina prodded with a giggle, her eyes alit with mischief. 

Fred’s jaw immediately clenched at the sound of her name, his grip on his glass tightening. He most certainly hadn’t heard about her in a few weeks, and he hadn’t expected to have such a visceral reaction at the mere mention of her name. Regaining his composure, he forced himself to relax a bit and quirk a brow, feigning both confusion and interest.

“No? They shagging?” George questioned, sitting forward in his seat.

“Apparently, but I guess it’s becoming a bit more serious than just that.” Angelina shrugged, turning her gaze to Alicia beside her for confirmation. When the second girl nodded, Fred downed another gulp of his drink.

That can’t be right, he thought. It hadn’t even been a month since the last time they had been together, Y/N pinned beneath him as breathy moans escaped her lips. In the dim light of his bedroom, she had whispered to him that her pussy was his, that she was his, and now, apparently, she was with someone else. Some part of him knew that he had no right to be upset, because truthfully, it was his choice to end their little arrangement. But she had left him no choice after breaking their number one rule.

Y/N and Fred had ventured past friendly acquaintanceship about a year before, after a few too many firewhiskys at an infamous Weasley twins’ party. The morning after, they had tiptoed around each other, clearly uncomfortable by the change in dynamic. But it didn’t take long for it to happen again, and again, and again. Before either of them had really realized it, they had become much more than friends but much less than really together, and Fred wanted to keep it that way. He wanted them to remain in that middle ground.

As far as he knew, Y/N was more than fine with where they stood with each other. Until one day, she wasn’t. He remembered clearly how she had bit her lip and gazed at him, only moments after finishing him off with her mouth. He had looked at her curiously, wondering where her usual, joking, post-coital self had gone. 

“Have you ever thought of me as more than, you know, just an easy fuck?”

Her words had shocked him, because they certainly weren’t the turn of phrase he would have used. He didn’t think of her as ‘an easy fuck,’ he thought of her as a friend. Someone he cared deeply for. But as he gazed into her desperate eyes, he was struck with the realization that he didn’t care for her the way she hoped. He had swallowed deeply, preparing his words in his mind, before shattering her heart.

Now, he wasn’t sure why he cared. Sure, he had thought about her a lot in the weeks they’d been apart, but he was always so sure that he had made the right choice. Relationships were messy, and he was young, so he had no intention to be tied down so soon. Still, the thought of her with Adrian Pucey made his blood boil, and he wished desperately that he could put an explanation to the feeling.

“Fred?” 

The sound of his name tore him from his thoughts of Y/N, and he quickly plastered on his signature goofy grin before sitting forward and re-immersing himself in the conversation. Still, in the back of his mind, images of Y/N and Adrian played on repeat, fueling a fire that he hadn’t realized was a lit within him.

-

A week later, Fred found himself at a party at Oliver Wood’s flat, celebrating a win for Puddlemere United. There was an array of different people there, ranging from his old Hogwarts team, to groupies, to people who had just showed up at the mention of a party. Fred had planned on getting drunk that night, but after seeing George and Lee sloppily grinding on a few witches in an intoxicated bliss, he decided maybe—for once—he would be the responsible one.

Fred had gone nearly an hour, just barely nursing a glass of firewhisky and chatting with old friends jovially, before his eyes landed on a familiar face entering the party. 

Fred was frozen at the eye contact they held, his first time seeing her in weeks. Y/N held the gaze for a moment, before turning to grip Adrian’s wrist behind her and drag him further into the party. If Fred thought he had a strong reaction to hearing about their relationship, it was nothing compared to actually seeing it. Fred slammed his drink down and walked away from the poor girl he had been chatting with without so much as an explanation.

“Let’s get out of here.” Fred clapped a hand down on George’s shoulder the moment he reached him, pulling his attention away from the girl dancing against him.

“Now?” George questioned incredulously, his brows raising. He gestured to the girl in his arms before returning a pleading look to his brother. “Come on, mate. This isn’t a great time.”

Fred knew he could convince his brother to leave if he explained, but his mouth felt entirely too dry. He couldn’t seem to formulate the words as to why he needed to get out of there. So, instead, he sighed and offered his brother a nod before retreating back to the outskirts of the people dancing.

Normally, Fred was the life of the party. By this point in the night, he’d usually be plastered and singing or dancing with no remorse. But seeing Y/N with a bloke like Pucey caused him to have an entire demeanor change, leaving him scowling leaned against the wall.

It didn’t take long for his eyes to find Y/N amongst those dancing, pressed closely to Pucey behind her. She was dancing provocatively, even turning in the man’s grasp every little bit to kiss him sloppily. At first, Fred had been almost certain that she was doing it on purpose. The way she was right in his line of vision, acting completely out of character in her open demeanor, it all felt like too much for him to handle. 

Then, she made eye contact with him, and held it, and he just knew. She was doing it on purpose. All of her actions had been a way to get him worked up, to see if he would get jealous, and dammit it was working. Fred chewed on the inside of his cheek, holding her gaze as she grinded her bum against Pucey. She held his gaze as she slowly craned her neck and pulled Adrian into a searing kiss, her eyes back on Fred the moment the two pulled apart.

That was the final straw for Fred. He wasn’t going to stand idly by while she taunted him so openly, showing him everything he was missing. So, he pushed through the crowd of people and found his way to the two of them, ignoring the small smirk that had risen on her face. 

“Y/N,” He breathed out, just loud enough for her to hear over the music. Suddenly, he was entirely unsure of his next move, but he desperately wanted to regain control over the situation. So, he said the first thing that came to mind. “Do you want to get out of here?”

“Oi, what the hell, Weasley?” Adrian paused his dancing, although his hands remained gripped on Y/N’s waist. “Can’t you see we’re a little busy here?”

Fred completely ignored the man at first, his eyes never leaving Y/N. He could see by the look on her face that he had played exactly into what she wanted, but with the jealousy coursing through him, he couldn’t find it in himself to care. She smirked slightly at Fred before craning her neck to look back at Adrian, almost as if she were challenging him to fight for her further. 

“I can see,” Fred seethed, finally looking up at Adrian. “I can see a poor girl not having a very good time. So, I’m offering her a better option. Why don’t you let her decide?”

Adrian scoffed, taking a small step back from Y/N but keeping one hand on her hip. He looked down at her, waiting expectantly for her to deny any desire to go off with Fred. When she simply glanced between the two of them, Adrian’s brows furrowed and a look of offense overtook his features.

“Come on, Y/N.” He pleaded. “Tell him.”

Y/N bit down on her lip, the action only infuriating Adrian further. He looked at her incredulously before scoffing and turning his head away.

“Should’ve known a desperate little slut like you couldn’t be loyal.”

In an instant, Fred pushed Y/N out of the way and landed a hard blow to Adrian’s jaw. Y/N was dazed, everything seeming to move in slow motion as all eyes turned on them. Adrian had faltered only for a moment, cupping his jaw in his hand before straightening up and lunging towards Fred.

Luckily, George and Lee were there after a moment, tearing Adrian away and threatening to pummel him as they marched him towards the door. Y/N knew Fred wouldn’t need their help in a fight, but she was still grateful that a full out brawl hadn’t occurred because of her. Y/N rushed to Fred, cradling his fist in her hand and glancing up at his eyes.

“Are you okay?” Her voice was soft, but the music had stopped, so he could hear her.

“‘m fine.” He answered curtly, glancing between the way she held his hand and her eyes. “So, can we get out of here?”

Y/N’s lips formed into a tight line, so as to conceal the smirk that desperately wanted to break through. She offered him a quick nod, and in an instant he was dragging her out the door and apparating her back to his flat.

The moment that they were in Fred’s room and the door shut, his lips were on hers. Her back was pressed up against his door, desperate little moans leaving her mouth as she reveled in the feeling of having him against her once more. Fred took the opportunity to push his tongue into her mouth when her lips parted, taking full control of the situation.

Y/N was more than content to let him take over, having missed him in their time apart more than she would ever like to admit. Of course, the feelings she still held for him lingered strongly, but she tried not to think about that as Fred pressed himself further against her. Adrian had been nothing more than a distraction, a feeble hope that she had held onto as a way to get over the tall red head, but it clearly hadn’t worked. She felt a bit bad, because she knew Adrian cared about her far more deeply than she did him, but she also knew she had made it clear she didn’t want a relationship. The irony was sickening.

“That was quite a show you were putting on tonight.” Fred pulled away from her breathlessly, his eyes tracking up and down her body.

“Yeah?” Y/N cocked her head to the side, feigning innocence. “I don’t know what you mean, I was just having a bit of fun.”

A low growl crawled out of his throat as he pressed his lips to hers once more, using more force than previously. Y/N squeaked at the intensity, but quickly melted into him. His hands trailed up and down her sides as she rested her own around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer.

Fred’s hands finally made their way to the hem of her shirt, his fingers ghosting over the skin of her stomach and sending a shockwave throughout her. Slowly, he trailed his fingers up, raising her shirt up in his wake. Y/N was quick to oblige, breaking away from him to allow him to tear the garment off completely. 

For a moment, Fred’s eyes trailed over her slightly revealed form, drinking in the way she looked half-naked. He hadn’t realized how much he missed seeing her like this, and he found that his breath hitched at even the littlest bit of exposure.

As his eyes met her pleading ones, he quickly recovered. Their passion resumed in an instant as he pressed his lips to hers once more, spinning her away from the door and walking her backwards towards his bed. Y/N allowed him to lightly push her back onto it, her heart fluttering at the sudden gentleness of his actions. She’d always loved the dominance he held over her, but something about what was happening between them now felt different. But, as he draped his body over her own, all of her hopes of actual romance melted away and her mind was entirely clouded with just the appeal of him.

Y/N arched herself against Fred, giving him the space to unclasp her bra. He slid the straps down her arms slowly, trailing open-mouthed kisses down her jaw and neck, until he finally met the tops of her breasts. He cast her bra aside, shooting her one last look before taking a pebbled nipple into his mouth. Y/N moaned at the contact, her fingers immediately threading themselves through his flaming hair. As his teeth gently grazed her nipple she gave his hair a tug, causing him to moan against her.

Fred continued his trail downward, planting kisses down her torso until he made it to the band of her leggings. Y/N lifted her hips and Fred held eye contact with her as he slowly pulled them down her legs. Y/N realized that he seemed to be drawing all of this out, pushing her to the point of pure desperation to make her pay for teasing him all night. Still, she bit her tongue and held back any thoughts of pleading with him, she couldn’t give in that easy.

When she was left in nothing but her panties, Fred sat back on his knees and leisurely unbuttoned his shirt. Y/N watched him intently, her frustration increasing significantly, until she could no longer contain it. She let out a desperate whine, pleading with the man with her eyes alone.

“Something wrong, love?” Fred cocked his head to the side and smirked.

“Freddie,” Y/N whined, the nickname feeling foreign yet fitting on her tongue.

Fred discarded his shirt before circling his hand around on of her ankles and hitching it up on his shoulder. He placed a soft kiss to the inside of her ankle before slowly trailing kisses back up her leg towards her thigh. Y/N shuttered as his lips ghosted over her clothed pussy, her eyes squeezing shut.

“Please.”

Fred looped one finger under the hem of her lace panties, but made no effort to pull them down. When a low chuckle escaped his lips, Y/N knew she was in trouble. Her eyes flew open once more, immediately meeting his darkened, lust-filled ones.

“Did you really think I’d give in that easy?” Fred mocked, punctuating his question by snapping the band of her underwear. “You tease me all night, putting on a show for me, acting like a desperate little slut.” He paused to wet his lips, drinking in the soft moan that escaped from her lips. “That is what you are, isn’t it?”

“Only for you, Freddie.” 

“Really?” Fred scoffed, sitting back up to begin fiddling with his belt. Y/N raised herself up on her forearms, desperation and arousal pooling in her core. “Because it didn’t seem that way tonight.” Fred’s tongue darted out of his mouth, swiping over his bottom lip as he gazed at her hungrily. “Think maybe I might need to remind you whose slut you are. What do you think?”

She whimpered, but managed a feeble nod. In their previous times together, her and Fred were nothing if not adventurous in the bedroom. Still, as he waved his wand and bound her wrists to his headboard, she couldn’t help but gasp and lightly fight against the restraints. Fred held a devilish smirk at her plight as he stood from the bed and sat his wand back down.

Fred crawled back over her, his intense dominance faltering for just a moment as he leaned down to whisper in her ear.

“Still remember the safe word, yeah?”

“Yes, Freddie.” She managed to speak, although it was difficult. Fred leaned back and searched her eyes for a moment before leaning in and placing a soft kiss to her lips. After that, any sense of gentleness faded.

Fred’s lips sucked and bit at her neck hungrily, one of his large hands trailing down to rub her through her panties while the other massaged her breast. Y/N’s thighs clamped around his hand, which quickly earned her a light swat to her hip.

“Stay still, or I’ll have no problem tying your legs up too.” Fred growled against her neck.

Y/N quickly obliged, spreading her legs further open. While previously she may have been more inclined to push Fred a bit, her mind was too clouded with lust to do anything but obey him. After weeks of mediocre sex with Adrian, she was ready to completely give herself over to Fred, and let him have her in anyway he wanted.

Fred’s hand pushed the fabric of her panties aside, allowing one finger to drag through her wet folds. She was already soaking wet for him, despite the fact he’d hardly touched her. Without a warning, he plunged one finger into her, lightly moaning at the way she constricted around him. Y/N’s back arched ever so slightly against him, tugging futilely against her bound wrists. He set a steady pace, thrusting his finger in and out of her before adding another and scissoring the two. He changed pace after a moment, beginning to curl his fingers up into her as his thumb rubbed circles against her waiting clit. The pressure in her core grew quickly from that, and she couldn’t help the way she loudly moaned out.

“Right there, yes, oh god…”

Fred was now smirking as he pulled away from her neck, significantly satisfied with the many markings he’d left as well as how quickly he could bring her to this point. He knew her body like the back of his hand, he knew her signs for when she was close, and it made it so much easier to enact his plan.

Just as Y/N was teetering on the edge, desperate whines and random babbles leaving her lips, Fred pulled his hand away. She let out a frustrated and confused groan, her eyes flying open as she felt the build up slowly slip away. Fred just grinned at her, before getting off the bed and ridding himself of his trousers and boxers. He lazily stroked himself as he took her in, chest heaving and covered in a light sheen of sweat, completely at his mercy. She had stopped her attempts at fighting her restraints, looking at him like she were almost defeated. In her mind, she’d begun to fear the very real possibility that Fred wouldn’t let her cum at all.

“You seem frustrated.” Fred cooed mockingly, coming to lean back over her and gently brush her cheek. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Fred.” Y/N spoke firmly, though her eyes portrayed her fears. “You’ve got to let me finish.”

“Hm.” Fred seemed to ponder that, leaning back to slowly pull her panties down her legs. “I don’t think I have to do anything. In fact, I could just leave you here all tied up and needy.”

“Please,” Y/N whined, her eyes beginning to fill with tears. “I’m sorry, okay? Is that what you want to hear?”

“It’s a start.” Fred tutted, finally discarding her panties aside. He leaned down near her ear once more, his warm breath sending a chill down her spine. “What I’d really like, though, is to hear how much you need me. Wanna hear you say it.”

“Please, Freddie, I need your cock so bad. Need you to ruin me.” Y/N cried out, losing all sense of dignity as her sex-addled brain took over. Fred had intended to tease her much longer, but her desperate pleas were going straight to his cock, and he couldn’t hold out any longer.

“That’s all you had to say, love.”

Fred hitched her leg around his hip, gripping his cock in his free hand. He teased the head through her wet folds, shivering at the moan she let out from just the smallest contact. Then, he pushed his hips forward, not stopping until he was completely buried in her. Their low moans mixed together in the quiet of the room, Fred being careful not to move until he was sure she had adjusted to his size.

“Fuck, I forgot how fucking good you feel.” He groaned, burying his face in her neck.

“Move… Please.”

He needed no further encouragement. Fred pulled out about halfway before snapping his hips back forward, setting a brutal but steady pace. Y/N’s loud moans and Fred’s grunts mixed together, accompanied only by the sound of their skin on skin contact. Y/N could feel her orgasm building again as his dick hit her g-spot with every thrust, and she was almost embarrassed by how quickly he could bring her to this point. 

“‘m so close, Freddie.” Y/N breathed out, knowing it would only infuriate him further if she came without his permission.

“Already?” Fred scoffed, although he knew he wasn’t far behind. 

Still, he wasn’t ready for things to end so soon, so he pulled out completely, ignoring the desperate whine that left her throat. He pulled both of her legs together and pushed her knees up against her chest, holding her ankles together with one hand before thrusting back into her desperate cunt. The new position allowed him to hit deeper within her as he thrust downward, causing Y/N to scream out. The pain was delicious, it was everything she had longed for in their time apart.

“You really think you deserve to cum?” Fred grunted, landing a particularly hard thrust into her. “After everything you pulled tonight?”

“Please.” Y/N whined. She was so close, she knew she wouldn’t be able to handle it if he stole another orgasm from her.

“Answer the question, slut.” Fred demanded, his pace quickening ever so slightly. “That’s what you are, isn’t it? A desperate little cum slut.”

“Yes.” Y/N cried out. “But only for you, Freddie. Just a slut for you.”

“That’s right.” Fred’s rhythm had begun to falter, approaching his own orgasm quickly. Still, he was unsure if he’d let her finish or not. “You’re my little slut. Only I get to call you that, right?”

“Yes, Freddie.” Y/N whined, beginning to tug again on her restraints. She wanted nothing more than to scrape her nails down his back, but being completely at his mercy turned her on endlessly.

“Good.” Fred was close, so fucking close, but he had made his decision. So he had to hold off. “Cum for me, then. You’ve earned it.”

That was all the encouragement she needed, and as Fred hit one more thrust into her g-spot she was tumbling over the edge. Electricity seemed to shoot all throughout her body as she loudly moaned out his name. Her legs were shaking and she was certain she’d be sore tomorrow, but she had little time to care about that as he continued to pound into her.

Y/N knew Fred well, just as well as he knew her, so she knew he was close. Her mind felt almost entirely blank and she wasn’t sure she had much energy for anything, but she wanted to bring him to his release badly. So, she clenched around him, a moan leaving her lips when he stuttered and groaned. His thrusts were faltering significantly, and after a few moments he was crying out her name as he finished in her. 

Fred pulled out and dropped her legs before crashing down next to her. He knew that he needed to untie her, but they also both just needed a moment to breathe. All that could be heard was the sounds of their mixed pants as they both came down from their highs. Once he was significantly more relaxed, he gripped his wand and swished it lazily, effectively removing the restraints she was held in.

Y/N hands dropped down and she quickly went to rub at her wrists, but Fred was quick to bat her hands away and do it himself. He examined both wrist closely, seeming to want to ensure that they were okay.

“They weren’t too tight, were they?” Fred implored after a moment. His genuine concern made her heart flutter, and she couldn’t help herself as she leaned in and placed a soft kiss to his lips.

“No, they were perfect—all of it was perfect.” She sighed as she pulled away from him. Her general cognition was beginning to return, and with it her fears of all of the pain she had gone through in the past etched their way through.

Sure, Fred had clearly gotten jealous at the party. Then, he had gotten possessive and claimed her in the bedroom. But that didn’t necessarily mean that he harbored the same feelings for her that she had for him. The fear nearly paralyzed her, and she wasn’t sure if she should quickly redress and flee the room or implore what this all meant. Luckily, he answered her internal questioning before she even had to ask.

“I don’t want to see you out with Pucey.” Fred sighed, his eyes not meeting hers. “Which is a total prat thing to say, but it’s true. I don’t want to see you out with any bloke, really.”

“Fred…” Y/N spoke tentatively, her eyes begging him to speak further.

“I want you, Y/N. Like, really.” Fred finally met her gaze. “Not just in my bed.”

“What, do you want me on the couch too?” Y/N tried to joke, hoping it would cover up her nervous tone. But it didn’t. So, her voice became soft. “Don’t get my hopes up, Freddie.”

“I’m being serious.” He shook his head. “I want to take you out on fancy dates, or watch movies with you on my couch. Bloody hell, I want to bring you to my parent’s house for Sunday dinners. I don’t know, I’m not good at this. Whatever it is that couples do.”

“Fred Weasley,” A small smile had begun to grow on Y/N’s face. “Are you asking me to be your girlfriend?”

“Yes.” Fred answered earnestly. “That is, only if you’re going to say yes. Otherwise, this was all just a joke—”

Y/N shut him up by pressing her lips to his, her mouth still curled upwards in a smile. It was impossible to hide the genuine happiness that his words brought her.

“Yes.” She answered softly as she pulled away.

A similar smile began to grow on Fred’s face as he completely registered her words, and he couldn’t help but dive back in for another kiss. Y/N was his, completely. Something he’d probably wanted for so long, but had simply been too daft to realize it. Now, as he held her in his arms, he promised himself he’d never make such a mistake again.

Tagging a few 18+ mutuals from my usual taglist: @wand3ringr0s3 @gcdric @theweasleysredhair 

[bugaboooooooooo]

Chapter 2 of my fic ''A blessing in disguise!''

Enjoy!

Info abt the fic + first chapter here.

*****

Lila was still crying crocodile tears when suddenly, a rather fashionable akuma came bursting in.

''Ah. Just the class I was looking for,'' the akuma said in a far too pleasant voice.

''Who are you?'' Alya shouted after a few moments of shocked silence.

The akuma smirked. ''Who am I? Have a guess.''

Lila took in the appearance of the girl in front of her. The akuma immediately sparked fear with her devilish appearance. Her ice-blue eyes bored into every one of them. It was frankly quite terrifying.

Nothing was really recognizable until she spotted the girl's blue-black pigtails. Apparently, everyone else had figured it out too.

''Marinette,'' the reporter girl whispered.

''Correct. But now, you will address me as Little Devil.''

---

Boiling anger replaced her fear and shock. Alya was enraged. How dare Marinette, the bully here, become akumatized? If anyone had the right to get akumatized, it was poor Lila. She began yelling.

''How dare you, Marinette! Bullying Lila mercilessly and now becoming akumatized because you got what you deserved!''

Little Devil just laughed. Alya saw Nino cast her a worried look, but she was too filled with rage to care.

The bespectacled boy tried reasoning with the akuma. ''Marinette, you're better than this. Please just snap out of it!'' he cried desperately.

A couple of others joined in.

''Yeah, Mari, stop this, this is stupid!'' Kim added. He was once one of her earliest childhood friends, now one of Lila's most devoted followers, madly in love with the Italian girl.

The black-red villain just chuckled and shook her head. ''You wanted me to be the bad guy? Well, now I'm the bad guy.''

And with that, she summoned what seemed like a thousand miniature versions of herself. ''Evilize them.''

---

A couple of kilometres farther, Adrien was having his make-up done for a photoshoot when his phone buzzed: an akuma alert. He quickly turned on the TV.

''Don't be bemused; it's just the news. Nadja Chamack, live on the scene at Francois Dupont high school. There's a new akuma, although it's not clear jet what its powers are jet; it seems to terrorize people with tiny demons.''

Adrien didn't hear the rest of what Nadja had to say, for the camera was now zoomed in on the akumatized villain, and the sight that met his eyes was enough to give him a heart attack. For he recognized those pigtails only too well.

---

Adrien cursed under his breath. That little witch had to choose today of all days to strike, right when Adrien wasn't there to shoo everyone away from Marinette. Both he and Marinette had long forgotten his advice to take the high road, as it became soon clear that that wouldn't work. Marinette had told Adrien that Lila had threatened her a few months ago. Since then, he decided that he would just try and put as much distance between Lila and the slowly aggressive becoming class and Marinette. Since even Alya and Nino, their best friends, had turned on the pigtailed girl and thus Adrien, the boy found himself spending much more time with her and Chloe. He was delighted he even managed to seal a truce between the two. He was also pleased to note that the bluenette had become more comfortable around him; most of the stuttering was gone.

But now, there was no time to lose; he had to save Marinette.

''Plagg, claws out!''

---

Kagami switched to the news channel and sighed. For once, she had a bit of spare time and none of her friends were available. So then she decided to see if anything interesting was on TV; no luck there either.

She put down the remote control and stared out of the window. The news droned on. Suddenly, a red signal came on the TV screen; an akuma alert. Kagami's attention was immediately drawn back to the news. She listened tensely to Nadja describing Shadow Moths new champion. Then, a photo appeared of the akuma. She clapped her hand over her mouth. Marinette had been akumatized.

---

In Bustier's classroom, it was hell. Little Devils demons had begun their torture and whispered everyone's most subconscious thoughts turned bad back at the students. Alya particularly was having a hard time.

Three demons encircled her, wide smiles plastered on their faces. One of them stopped at her ear.

''What kind of reporter doesn't fact check? How many lies have you published on your trashy gossip blog?'' it whispered.

Alya tried to swat the creature away, but another one came up to her.

''You're so selfish: look how quick you dumped Marinette for that lying newbie. You only care about yourself!''

The bespectacled girl whimpered.

''You know that somewhere deep down, you didn't blindly believe her lies. And still, you didn't bother to fact check!''

The auburn-haired girl screamed. ''No, no, NO!'' she wailed, but it didn't help.

''You're a worthless reporter and an even worse friend.''

That was the last straw. A faint light encased the girl, transforming her. Now, where once Alya Cesaire stood, a demon was hunched over, snarling.

---

Little Devil was perched on a bookshelf, her legs dangling lazily, surveying the chaos she created.

''Good job, my angels,'' she said, eyeing the demon of her former bestie. The creature looked around and quickly spotted a demonized Nino. After a few moments, the two were rolling over the ground, fighting each other. Soon, her other classmates gave in too and were fighting amongst themselves.

Little Devil smiled to herself. Her work here was done; time to find Miss Bustier.

*****

First chapter | Previous chapter | Next Chapter

*****

[jossambird]

The Scent on your coat P4

Summary: You reflect on your life choices, and despite your wants, Life had other plans for you.

Otto Octavius x F!Reader

Words: 2k

Warnings: NS/FW Subjects, No Doc in this Chapter (or is there) but building to the next part, mentions of emotional Reader, heartbreak, yearning for things you can’t have.

Ao3 Fic Link for previous parts, or on my masterlist!

-

“I've only ever wanted you.” You repeated into the silence of your apartment, barely listening to the news that played on tv. Images of various villains flittered on the screen, your eyes falling on the one face you couldn’t stop seeing behind your eyelids. You shut the tv off with a huff, eyes watering at the whole mess.

Hands slinging your blanket over your back, you bundled yourself up and sat in bed, pulling your other blanket over your legs and feet. You couldn’t even begin to find the correct words for just how much you had missed Otto.

Even after all this time, Otto remained as handsome as he had been the last time you had seen him all those dreadful months ago. His soft brown hair that shined red in the sunlight, his gorgeous brown eyes that used to always seek you out in a crowd.

You sighed, replaying his words in your mind. Did he mean everything he had said? He had never been a liar, that you knew…

For weeks after his accident, you had thought him dead. For months, you had listened to the radio and new outlets, slandering his work and very career once he had emerged, tentacles and all, turning to a life of crime.

How long had you mourned him, mourned the fragile friendship you had had together, mourned his work but most importantly, mourned your love for him? It had taken weeks, months even, to finally be able to step back into this laboratory and work, and not be pitied by every living soul here.

They had all known of your deep and dark secret, the love you had held so dear for the Scientist, but stayed silent.. all except for one.

Peter Parker. Sweet Peter Parker, always there for you no matter, always asking if you needed help or a shoulder to cry on, always asking how you were holding up with everything.

It had been Peter, of all people, who had saved you from the endless internal darkness that had started to consume you slowly but surely, depression sinking its claws into you and pushing you towards dangerous thoughts.

He, who had asked you if you wanted to go see a movie together. He, who had walked you home every night afterwards, only ever smiling and offering his arm whilst you tried to say it was okay.

He, who had tentatively asked you if you wanted to be his girlfriend that one summer night after a quiet walk, knowing full well how your heart held a part of itself for another.

It was he, who had kissed your lips, reassuring you that he understood what it felt like, having already lost the love of his life too.

And so, telling yourself that maybe this was what you needed to finally forget Octavius, you had given him a chance; slowly taking your time together and learning about one another, becoming closer and closer by the passing day.

Peter’s secret identity hadn't been kept from you long after you noticed Spiderman arriving at your Oscorp to walk you home, just like Peter did. He had practically fallen off a building when you asked out loud if he was done stalking you like a creep, his laugh echoing softly in the noisy New York streets.

“Aren’t you afraid a villain will come and kidnap me Pe- Spiderman?” You had asked him, grinning even though your heart clenched at the idea of *one* villain kidnapping you. Thoughts like those were burned and shooed away, trying to focus on the good and kind man that loved you.

“Don’t worry, Ill always protect you Y/N.” He assured you with a whisper, bowing his head as you stepped inside your shared apartment complex.

You had come to love him too, in a way, over time.

Your first time together was the moment you realized your heart was irreparable; Peter’s hands were on your hips, holding you softly as he fucked you but in that moment, another man’s name found itself on your lips, a name all too familiar to you, trying to make its way out and into the air between you. You hadn’t let it, swallowing both it and your shame down, sorrow coursing through you as Peter called out your name.

A few days later, on an early September day, as you turned away from the amazing view from your apartment window, the wind blowing your hair from your face, you had felt it; Nervous energy in the air, shudders wracking your body.

Peter Parker asked you to marry him on the same balcony moments after.

No amount of preparation would have ever prepared you for the absolute heartbreak you had felt as the man before you wore bruises shaped like claws, deep cuts and barely fading scars, crooked grin smiling up at you with a ring in hand, waiting.

“I know I’m not him, and you aren’t her, but I'd like to love you for the rest of my life.”

You had sobbed under the loud noise of the shower until the water turned cold, and after.

Though now, sitting here alone in your living room, you wondered why life sought to hurt you so.

Soon you would be married to a sweet man who loved you, adored you, and all fantasies of the tall Doctor Octavius would have to be forgotten and erased.

You sighed again, burying your face into your blanketed hands, trying to will yourself to stop feeling this way. Peter deserved someone who loved him with all their heart, not someone who craved another and had let said man eat them out in their previous work place.

A knock sounded at your front door and you frowned, standing, wrapped in your blankets still, to answer.

Would it be possible… that he would come? Would he knock on the door, or simply open it, hands seeking you out and untying your robe, touching what he had already accidentally claimed?

As you turned the handle and opened the door, your inner shame grew, eyes landing on the smiling face of your best friend Allie.

“Thought Id come see how the bride-to-be was feeling! How- Oh my god Y/N what's wrong?” Allie said in a rush as she saw tears form in your beautiful eyes, stepping inside in a hurry to comfort you. You could barely let out a sob, let alone words, arms wrapping around the woman.

“Y/N, babydoll, what's going on? You can talk to me, you know that right? Nothing leaves this room, only between you and me.” Your best friend whispered, holding you tightly.

She pulled away, arms still wrapped around you but just enough to see your face, and you knew she had figured it out, knew she had pieced it together. “Oh, Y/N… It’ll be okay, it’ll go away.”

What Allie failed to know though, was that you didn’t want it to go away, still feeling his soft but firm fingers holding your thighs and ankles, kisses laid against your skin.

You didn’t want your love for Otto Octavius to disappear, just like the words of love and adoration groaned along your thighs and core, expressive brown eyes seeking yours out in desperation. Desperate for what, you still didn’t know, but it made your heart race, thinking that the renowned Doctor Octavius and villain Doctor Octopus wanted to see you reach ecstasy by his hand and his alone, desperate for only his name to find itself on your tongue.

And you felt even more horrible for it.

*

Allie held you close, blankets wrapped around the both of you as she flicked through channels on TV.

“Want to talk about it?” She whispered, eyes still trailed on the TV but you knew her attention was solely on you.

What was there to say in a situation like this?

“No.” You croaked out, snuggling closer against her in an effort to forget everything, forget the outside world, forget the fact that the very man you wanted most of all was also somewhere out there. You weren’t surprised when Allie sighed, the sound of the TV shutting off. She laid down beside you, worried eyes gazing back at you.

“You know, it's not…” Allie paused, breath caught in her throat at the sight of you.

“It's not abnormal for marriages to be cancelled.” She continued, her eyes flickering over your face for a sign that you were understanding her meaning. You could barely breathe as she waited, the implication of her words sounding out.

“Allie thats- Peter, he-“ you tried, heart breaking at the idea of telling Peter you could no longer marry him. Allie, the beautiful thing she was, faked a gag and rose up, sitting beside you.

“Y/N, forget Pete for the moment okay? He doesn’t exist right here, right now.” She started, turning back towards your surprised visage with a finger pointed at you.

“I will always be here for you. I know you aren’t happy… I just want you to know that it’s never too late to cancel anything.”

You cried that night, silently into your pillow, never acknowledging the words she had spoken. Allie remained with you for the next few days, never uttering another word of the subject she had begun, helping you instead prepare for your wedding.

That night, you dreamt of large hands pulling you close and whispers of love pressed against your breast, heartbeat steady as he asked the one thing you could never lie about:

“Do you love me, Y/N? Me, and only me?” He whispered, lips moving against your collarbone, heated kisses following his words.

“I've only ever loved you.” You whispered back and watched the Otto before you smile, his hold turning bruising.

*

New York, even at night, was never silent. Noises could be heard everywhere and anywhere, people out and about, some heading home and some heading out.

Allie liked the hustle and bustle of the town, always eager to find a new Hole-in-the-wall type of bar or restaurant to get drunk in, and tonight, after saying she wanted to make you feel better with sushi, hadn’t been any different. She hummed under her breath and dutifully followed you back to your apartment, the both of you enjoying each other’s presence.

Convenience store bags in hand, you looked back at Allie as she wobbled, her steps mismatched, a half empty beer can in hand.

“Come on Al, we're almost there!” You laughed, watching her try to Hopscotch along the street. She stopped, eyes wide and smile even wider, throwing the beer can into the air and away from the both of you, making you cringe as it hit the ground.

“Oh my god- Was that a laugh!?” She yelled happily, the smell of beer and sake wafting off of her as she ran up beside you and held you close, arms trapped in her hold. You couldn’t help but smile at your best friend, mouth opening to chastise her for littering but you didn’t have the time; a faint melody met both your ears and Allie beamed, disentangling herself from you. You barely had time to register what song it was before she leaned away, breathing in sharply and letting loose.

“You should have bought her flowers!” She sang out, words echoing in the streets around you. Sang was perhaps too kind of a word though, as she scratchily belted out Bruno Mars lyrics.

“Shh! Oh my god Allie, shhhhhhh! Shut up!” You tried, running after her as she continued back to your apartment complex, uncaring of the people passing you by.

“You should’ve held her hand! Should’ve given her all your hours!” You barely made it in time to her, free hand rising to try and quiet her, heart racing as you imagined someone hearing-

“But now she’s marrying another man!”

Her words felt like a bath of freezing cold water, any remnants of alcohol in your system instantly evaporating.

She was right. You were, and no matter what fantasies and dreams you liked to imagine, you knew that life couldn’t continue like this, childishly hoping and wishing for another man to come sweep you up.

[hanatiny]

[4:04] Heart Not Found

a/n // disclaimer: I’d like to make it clear that I neither condone nor endorse any of the behavior described in this fic. Each of the characters acknowledges that it is beyond unacceptable and unjustified; this is merely meant to be an experimental look at the psychological processes within a yandere’s mind. Furthermore, this work is purely fictional and I do not claim to personally know exactly how any of the ateez members behave.

a/n: If there’s anything potentially triggering that I have forgotten to list in the warnings, please let me know and I’ll fix my mistake asap!! thank you <3

pairing: yandere!San x genderneutral!reader x pianist!boyfriend!Hongjoong

genre: angst

word count: 2602

warnings: non-idol AU, murder, descriptions of injuries, mentions of blood and death, mentions of knives, San is highly obsessive in this, he threatens the reader but doesn’t actually hurt them, kidnapping, trespassing, swearing, I did my best to keep the violence as vague as possible

-----

It was around 3am and you had yet to return home, and to say San was unnerved about this fact would be a massive understatement.

It wasn’t unusual for you to get home when it was already dark outside but it was never after midnight, much less in the early morning hours it was approaching now.

San tapped his fingers against the glass of his window anxiously as he watched the streets below attentively. You had turned off your phone a while ago, or at least that was the conclusion he drew after he stopped getting a signal from the tracker he had secretly managed to install on your phone.

3:12... why weren't you home yet?

His jaw went tense when he finally caught sight of you a few excruciatingly long minutes later, and he absolutely fumed as he saw you holding hands with another man he had never seen before in his life- he paused.

He did recognize the man, as none other than the pianist Kim Hongjoong who had been gaining quite a bit of popularity in the recent months. Kim Hongjoong, who he had gone to high school with until the older dropped out to focus on his career instead.

San didn't care much for that though, because a pretty face and a talent like Hongjoong's didn't mean he could love and care for you like you deserved it.

San believed that only he could give you everything you needed and wanted, and everything beyond that. Which was exactly why he was seeing red, punching the wall next to himself angrily. It caused his knuckles to bleed from the force behind the action, but the rage he felt overshadowed his pain.

Why didn’t you realize you were destined to be his and his alone? That you shouldn’t go whoring yourself out to other men? That only he should be the one to hold you in his arms, the one to protect you from everyone and everything.

He didn’t understand. He didn’t understand why you couldn’t feel his attraction to you, why you insisted on turning a blind eye to him and found him “weird.” That’s what he assumed to be the case, at the very least.

San loved you, why was that so damn difficult for you to understand?

His narrowed eyes flickered over to the knife resting on his bedside table, and he had it clutched tightly in his bleeding hand within the blink of an eye.

He darted down the stairs without a second thought, blinded by the rage he felt deep within himself.

Meanwhile, outside, you were hugging your boyfriend goodbye for the night. His dark eyes shone innocently as he kissed your nose affectionately, causing you to giggle while still having your hands intertwined.

“So I’ll pick you up at 10 tomorrow for brunch, yeah?”

“Sounds good, Hongjoongie~ I’ll see you then.” You playfully blew him a kiss before he turned and walked off into the night, rounding the corner shortly after.

It was San’s time to strike, using your distracted state of mind to creep up behind you and tightly wrap an arm around your torso while he held the knife to your throat in warning.

You didn’t recognize his voice at first when he whispered into your ear, your brain much too clouded from the feeling of fear filling you, “If you make any sound at all, I’ll personally slit your throat and cut your vocal cords. You don’t want to lose an angelic voice such as yours, do you~?”

Realizing your situation was hopeless due to the unexpected amount of strength the man holding you possessed, you stopped trying to kick him and wrestle yourself free. This was the only answer he needed, starting to take slow and deliberate steps backwards from your house over to his. His hold on you remained tight, borderline suffocating even, just in case you would dare to get bold and try something.

He had left his door slightly ajar, kicking it shut behind him once he had finally brought you inside of his living space.

You still found yourself unable to figure out the identity of the man who had burst into your comfort zone out of nowhere but you didn’t want to find out what he was capable of doing to you if you attempted to resist whatever he was in the process of doing and pinpoint who he was, considering the amount of ease with which he snuck up and took hold of you just a few minutes ago.

Casually dropping his knife onto a nearby cupboard, he led you down the hallway of his house to a spacious bedroom. It was then a figurative lightbulb went off in your head and the fog clouding your mind cleared, upon seeing certain pieces of furniture he had placed in the room.

You had been here before. You had been in this house before when he had just moved in and his furniture was all over the place, he was the ‘cute neighbor’ who had offered you some coffee and invited you over to ‘get to know each other a little.’ Now all you needed to do was remember his name- it clicked. You remembered.

His grip on you (probably purposely) loosening, you whirled around and took a few steps away from him. San didn’t seem all too fazed by it though, simply grinning knowingly at you and crossing his arms while you did your best to subtly gain proper awareness of your surroundings.

It seemed like he noticed, however, because that was when he finally spoke up again.

“I was wondering how long it’d take you to recognize me, love. You know who I am, don’t you~?” His tone was so calm that it unsettled you to the point of having to avert your eyes, your head hanging low as you nodded hesitantly, hardly even noticing his use of the pet name.

“I knew it...~” San’s voice trailed off into a purr that you weren’t sure how to feel about, deciding that being wary was likely the smartest thing you could do in your current situation.

Too lost in thought, you didn’t realize he had stepped closer to you while you were internally debating with yourself, pleased that you seemed to remember what he said about speaking.

“Now, I have something to take care of for a little bit... I trust that you’ll be good and not leave this room.” Although a smile was painted on his features, it didn’t make his tone sound any less threatening. Not willing to find out what might happen if you didn’t react, you nodded once more.

“That’s my good dove~” All of it disgusted you - from the way he cooed at you, over the way his lips twitched upwards into a grin, to the way he looked at you like you were the only person in this twisted world.

You hated it and yet there you stood, in the middle of this sicko’s bedroom, frozen with uncertaintly and fear. You only scarcely resisted the urge to punch him in the face, watching closely as he left a few moments later and closed the door behind himself.

You heard him lock it as well, heaving a shaky sigh when you believed him to be out of earshot.

Your body shook with rage, how did he have the audacity to just kidnap you like that and walk away like he didn’t commit a goddamn felony? Your first instinct was to break something, and you figured that the window might be the first best thing - just in case it’d give you an opportunity to escape.

Looking around, you were quick to find a small hammer in a drawer. You swung it against the glass with every bit of force you could muster, only for the object in your hand to bounce back without leaving even so much as a crack. Dumbfounded by the fact that San had even reinforced his windows to keep you from leaving him, clearly having planned this for a while, you dropped the hammer next to you and sank to your knees.

You curled in on yourself, sobs wracking your body as you were forced to come to terms with the reality that you were trapped. Trapped in this room, trapped with your not-so-innocent-and-sweet neighbor.

Meanwhile, San’s steps were hurried as he sought out your boyfriend’s house, knife in hand while he occasionally glanced at his phone. It probably wasn’t very smart of Hongjoong to have his personal address publicized for fan mail purposes, considering how easily it could be exploited by people like San.

He should’ve been freezing out in the cold air at 3:35 in the very early morning, but the blood practically boiling in his veins kept him from being affected by it much. It was almost too easy for him to trespass onto the desired property when he finally reached it, breaking the lock on the door effortlessly with the blade of his knife.

Hongjoong had a habit of staying up as late as it was humanly possible, and it was rather common knowledge that he sometimes didn’t even sleep at all. As such, San was not the least bit surprised to faintly hear someone playing the piano when he stepped into the house as quietly as he could.

He followed the sound, eventually coming to a large room filled with a variety of instruments of different sizes. In the middle was, as San had to begrudgingly admit, a beautiful piano. Its seat was occupied by his very target, Hongjoong, who was aware of the younger man’s presence and let his fingers press against the black and white keys once more.

The sound the action produced was so disharmonious that it made San physically cringe as he stared the young pianist down, the latter of whom finally lifting his head with a deep, exasperated sigh.

“This is about y/n, isn’t it? I’ve noticed the way you look at-”

“You saw nothing! You know nothing! Do you have any fucking clue how painful it is to see the one you love with someone else, to not even have them spare you a single glance because of how little they care about you?” San was furious at this point, blinded by his rage, Hongjoong flinching and recoiling in his seat at the harsh tone employed by the other male as he continued, “I know you don’t. You were always the prodigy and excelled at what you did, got everything you wanted so easily... including the one thing I wanted too. I can’t live with that, and neither will you.”

“I-I didn’t- That’s not-” Hongjoong stammered, trying to defend himself before quickly realizing it was a futile endeavor when he saw San lunging at him with his knife clutched tightly in his hand. His reflexes were fast as he tried to reach for a nearby violin to whack the latter unconscious with but the crazed younger was, to his demise, much faster and pinned him to the surface of his piano while the keys beneath him produced another dissonant sound.

It didn’t exactly help that San was not only taller but also more muscular than Hongjoong, so the latter’s tries to wiggle and struggle free were for nothing. He groaned in pain as the wooden edges of his instrument forcefully dug into his skin; he clawed at it, but to no avail. He had no chance against San.

Despite knowing how hopeless it was for himself, Hongjoong refused to go down without a fight and proceeded kick and scream in San’s hold, “You’re making a huge m-mistake-”

His vision spun before going black, his pleas going silent while his body went limb. Everything stopped, except for San. He continued to stab and mutilate the older until he deemed it enough and was satisfied, stepping backwards after. He got what he came here for. Taking a quick picture with his phone to show to both you and the police what had taken place (although he’d come up with an alibi for the authorities, of course), he backtracked his steps and left the house as fast as his feet would take him.

Still under the safe and dark blanket of the night, he made his way back to his own house. Making sure to hide the bloody knife where no one would find it, he cleaned himself off briefly before he got an idea for how he could use the ‘souvenir’ he brought for you.

You jumped slightly in your spot on San’s bedroom, curled up and hiding your face behind your knees even now, when you heard him slam the front door shut which signalled you that he had returned from whatever he was out doing. You feared the worst as you listened carefully, presuming the noise he was making to be coming from his kitchen.

You looked up when the bedroom door clicked open and San entered, a smug and satisfied grin on his face as he moved to set a jar on the bedside table before crouching in front of you.

“I’m home, bunny. Did you miss me~?” His falsely innocent, sweet tone was still something you despised, although you felt genuine fear for what he could do to you simply by looking at the tiny smudge of blood lingering on his cheek, so you nodded obediently.

“Good. I just had to have a little chat with your pretty boy, and look what he gave me~!” San cheerfully nudged his head towards the bedside table, and the sight you were met with made you feel sick to your stomach.

What you assumed to be Hongjoong’s bloody heart. In a jar. You kept glancing back and forth between him and the object, gaping at him in both shock and disbelief of what he had done.

“What do you think of it, love? Pretty, isn’t it~? Go on, tell me.” He encouraged you softly, "You told him he had your heart right? Now you have his forever!” He chirped, and your voice was shaky as you spoke.

“Y-you monster!” You exclaimed, cursing yourself internally for your stuttering as you cursed at him, “You heartless bastard, you didn’t have to kill him!”

“I didn’t want to kill him,” he admitted softly, looking down as if he felt any sense of remorse for any of his actions within the last hour or so, “but he left me no choice. He refused to break up with you. He refused to let me love you without... all this.” He gestured vaguely, pulling out his phone to show you the photo he took, “He refused to let me have even one thing I wanted for myself, even though he always got whatever he wished for. Desperate times require desperate measures, I had no choice...”

San trailed off, your own face paling at the realization that Hongjoong had been murdered because of a petty rivalry of sorts from the past that San had yet to let go of.

Feeling lightheaded by the abundance of information swimming in your already aching head, you blacked out. When you came to your senses again, it appeared to be morning and San was making noise in another room.

Tears wet your face as you shakily reached for your phone, wishing you hadn’t because the very first notification you opened was a headline you had prayed wouldn’t be reality, accompanied by the very picture San had taken the previous night.

“Up and coming pianist Kim Hongjoong brutally murdered in his home last night; investigations still ongoing”

----- Taglist (tell me if you wanna be added):

@cometoceantrenches @ddeonghwva  @galaxteez @innosintsan @latte-fairytaekwoon @little-precious-baby @multidreams-and-desires @nightqueennyx​ @twancingyunhoe​  @vocalyunho @yunhoiseyecandy​

Network tag:

@8makes1teamnet​

[the-bau-quinjet]

Both of You

Tony x Reader based on this request!

Warnings: mention of nightmares

Word Count: 1803

a/n: This one makes me feel warm inside. We're just pretending Pepper does not exist because any mention of killing her off is too sad for me to deal with right now. Tony deserves happiness. Featuring The Best Day by Taylor Swift.

Also, I'm currently working on a Reid request, two Steve fics, and an idea I had for Bucky, but somehow this one was the one that got me motivated.

Masterlist

You were relaxing, aka being forced to recover from a gunshot wound before going on any more missions, on the couch in the living room for the third night in a row. To say you were absolutely bored would be underselling it.

You spent the past few days alone roaming the compound because everyone else was out on missions. Typically this would mean hanging out with Morgan, but Happy's been monopolizing her time.

You were just about to start another movie when your phone started ringing.

"Where are you?" The voice was desperate.

"Nice to hear from you Happy. How are you, today?" You sassed him back.

"Y/N, I'm serious." His tone put you on high alert.

"I'm in the main living room, what happened?" You sat up from the couch, ready to come to him at a moments notice.

"I'm in the elevator, I'll explain in a minute." He hung up before you could ask any follow up questions.

You were up and standing at the elevator in no time, anxiously awaiting Happy's arrival.

After what felt like an eternity, he emerged from the elevator carrying a sleeping Morgan in his arms. He walked past you to set her on the couch before explaining.

"May had a bit of an emergency, I need to go pick her up. She's fine, just a little shaken up. Can you watch Morgan?" You could see the lingering fear in his eyes.

"Of course. Please, let me know if there's anything else I can do!" You spoke in a fast whisper, getting the words out quickly but quietly to account for Happy already boarding the elevator and Morgan still asleep in the living room.

"I'll call you if anything else happens."

And with that he was gone.

You made your way back into the living room while trying to decide if you should bring Morgan back up to her bed. She would sleep better there, but you might wake her up on the way.

You were just about to pick her up when she let out a strangled sob.

"Morgan?" She still appeared to be asleep, but her face showed fear. "Morgan, honey, wake up."

You spoke gently while running a hand soothingly through her hair. Despite your best efforts, she woke with a start. Her little fingers balled into fists, tears pooling in her eyes before you could say anything.

"Morgan, it's okay! You're okay. I'm here." You gathered her in your arms to rock her back and forth. "You're okay. Everything's okay."

You continued rocking her back and forth while whispering words of affirmation until her crying stopped.

"I- I want my- my dad." She hiccuped.

"Oh sweetheart, he's not home right now." It broke your heart to disappoint her. "Do you wanna tell me when you dreamed about?"

She nodded slowly, but clung to your arms.

"I had a bad dream." You could tell she was till scared. "There was a monster and he took Peter away!" She was getting worked up again.

"Peter's fine, baby. Do you want me to call him?" You spoke softly while reaching into your pocket for your phone.

She nodded solemnly. "With video, please."

"Of course, honey."

It didn't take long for you to facetime Peter. You could only hope that he would answer on the first try. While it rung, you angled the phone against a candle on the table to include you and Morgan in the frame.

"Hi Ms. Y/N- oh! Hi Morgan!" Peter's cheerful voice rung through the living room.

"Hi Pete!" Morgan's voice matched Peter's cheerfulness, but you could still tell she was shaken up.

"See, baby. Peter's okay." You gently prodded her mind to accept that the dream was just that, a dream.

"Petey, I'm so glad you're okay! I was so scared." She ignored your comment, but you could tell the call was helping her.

"Oh Morgan, did you have another nightmare? I'm sorry! You can always call me whenever you need to. I promise." He did well to cheer up the young girl.

You sat back against the couch, just listening to Morgan and Peter conversing for the next hour or so.

"Alright, I think we've got to try to go back to bed now. Say goodbye to Peter."

Morgan pouted, but didn't put up much of a fight.

"Bye Petey! I love you!" She called happily, the nightmare all but forgotten.

"Bye Morgan, I love you too. Bye, Ms. Y/N!" Peter called out.

"Bye, Peter." You smiled as you hung up the phone. "Let's get you up to bed."

"Nooo!" She whined. "Can I just lay down here with you?"

You knew you were a goner the minute she started pouting. With a sigh, you easily gave in to her demands. "Yes, but you still have to sleep."

"Yay! Can you sing to me?" She laid down on the couch, putting her head in your lap.

"Sure, sweetheart. What song?" You began running your hand over her hair in an attempt to calm her down.

"The one about being 5 and having a good day!"

You let out a small chuckle at her description, but you knew the song she meant.

"I'm five years old, it's getting cold. I've got my big coat on. I hear your laugh and look up smiling at you, and run and run."

As soon as you started singing, she closed her eyes and stopped moving around. You didn't really believe her, but she's always said your voice makes her feel calm inside.

"Past the pumpkin patch and the tractor rides, look now, the sky is gold. I hug your legs and fall asleep on the way home."

You were so intently focused on Morgan, that you didn't hear the elevator doors opening and closing just down the hall.

*In the elevator*

"Someone's singing?" Steve phrased it as a question, but he knew he could hear it as the elevator moved up a few floors.

"Who?" Tony, although uninterested, asked.

"I hear it too!" Bucky chimed in, feeling weirdly at peace just from hearing the melody.

Everyone else in the elevator strained their ears to hear the voice, but came up empty until the elevator doors opened.

Slowly, Tony, Steve, Bucky, Nat, Sam, and Wanda piled out of the elevator.

"I don't know why all the trees change in the fall, but I know you're not scared of anything at all."

"Y/N..." Tony whispered, so as not to disturb you.

"Why would she be singing?" Wanda questioned. You always refuse to sing karaoke with them, so it doesn't make sense to her that you would be singing to yourself in the middle of the compound.

Suddenly, a much younger voice joined in on the song.

"Don't know if Snow White's house is near or far away, but I know I had the best day with you today."

"Hey, missy. You promised me you'd try to sleep. That means no singing, just listening." Tony felt his smile grow as you playfully scolded his daughter.

"Sorry! Sorry, I'll be quiet." Morgan promised.

The group of Avengers listened as you began singing again. They slowly made their way toward the living room, moving silently so you wouldn't hear them and stop singing.

"There is a video I found from back when I was three. You set up a paint set in the kitchen and you're talking to me."

Tony was just far enough past the doorway to peak over the edge of the couch. The sight of Morgan curled up in your lap made his heart flutter.

"It's the age of princesses and pirate ships and the seven dwarfs. And Daddy's smart and you're the prettiest lady in the whole wide world."

The entire group of Earth's mightiest heroes wore matching expressions of complete and utter adoration watching you sing to Morgan.

Tony silently gestured for the rest of the group to leave, ultimately staring them down until they did so. He watched as you sang the rest of the song, stroking her hair until she fell into a restful sleep.

"I didn't know if you knew, so I'm taking this chance to say: that I had the best day with you today."

You hummed a bit to ensure Morgan was asleep before you stopped singing entirely.

Tony realized you were going to pick her up, so he softly cleared his throat to gain your attention as he walked around the couch.

The soft smile on his face warmed your heart.

"Hi Tony." You greeted him as he picked up his daughter. "She'll be glad you're home." You decided to leave out the heartbreaking detail of her tears and broken cries for her father.

"Where's Happy?" He questioned lightly.

"C'mon, I'll tell you on the way." You grabbed Morgan's stuffed Iron Man from the couch and started toward the elevator.

"Happy had to go pick up May. He said she was fine, but it was some sort of emergency." You spoke quietly so as not to disturb Morgan.

"Thank you for watching her." Tony couldn't hide the smile that grew on his face at the thought of you and Morgan being so close. "Even if you kept her up way past her bedtime." He added playfully.

"She was actually asleep when Happy brought her down. He was probably going to take her with him if he couldn't find me." You felt yourself start to smile just from looking at Morgan in Tony's arms.

"What happened?" Your smile fell at the memory of Morgan's tear stained face.

"She had a nightmare. Something about a monster hurting Peter." You couldn't stop your eyes from welling up at the memory of how scared and upset Morgan was. "She's okay now though. We talked to Peter for a while on facetime. Well, Morgan talked to Peter. I just rocked her back and forth so she'd stop crying."

"My poor baby." He pressed a kiss to Morgan's forehead, lingering close to her. "Thank you for helping her with that."

"Of course, Tony. She's a brilliant little girl. You're doing a great job raising her."

You let out a small chuckle when you suddenly realized neither of you pushed the button for the residential floor.

Tony laughed as well when you leaned forward to push the button.

You walked with him to Morgan's room, helping to tuck her and her stuffed toy into bed. Just as you gently closed the door, Tony cleared his throat again.

"Y/N, I really mean it. Thank you for being there for her. It means a lot to me." Tony's face show a rare vulnerable side as he spoke. "You mean a lot to me."

"Oh, Tony. You mean a lot to me too." You glanced back at Morgan's bedroom. "Both of you."

Permanent taglist:

@averyhotchner

@jesuswasnotawhiteman

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@sebastnstn

[sweetestlamb]

Let's Play A Love Game

Author's note: this one is rated 😈 so yeah. There was originally more angst in my mind but once I got to that part I was over it lol I'm the worst at angst I much rather make it naughty. It's more rushed than I wanted but I don't really have time to write 10k fics right now. But hopefully soon.

Summary: it's just pretend, right?

She hadn't meant to push the event in the corner of her mind until she forgot about it completely, so much so that when the e-vite showed up in her inbox she stared at it in wide eyed shock not even noticing Mi-Seon creeping up behind her.

"It's already time for that? I usually know it's coming because you start buying expensive dresses you can't afford and crying at your credit card bill. Maybe country life has really changed you hm?"

False. Inaccurate. Utterly wrong to the every core.

She lets out a shrill scream letting her head fall painfully on her desktop.

"I'm an idiot! Just kill me now, I deserve it." She has nothing to wear, okay the mountain of boxes in her living room, bedroom and some hidden in the linen closet beg to defer but none of that is worthy of this event. The annual dentist convention in Seoul, it's a week long getaway. It's meant to be an opportunity to build connections and attend professional learning classes, but that has long been abandoned. Now it is a fashion show and chance to show off your success and this year more than ever she has to impress everyone. They all look down on her and her cute little practice. Those judgemental snarky bitches.

"Do we have anymore patients?" She absently asks her best friend, only friend already getting up and walking away.

"No that was the last one. Do you want to call it a day?" She doesn't give a verbal reply lost in her phone and the disease that is online shopping, in the span of three minutes she has already added seven dresses to her cart.

"Chief Hong is going to have a long day."

It's just as Mi-seon says the next day the nosy know it all shows up glaring at her over the handful of packages in his arms.

"Don't tell me you're doing this again. What more could you possibly have to order? How much things does one woman need?" His voice is an air warmer than the last time they were in this very same position, but she tries not to think too hard about it. Their relationship is too confusing these days, as temperamental as the sea.

"Are delivery men allowed to complain this much when they're doing a job they are getting paid for?" She snarks back, snatching her packages from his arms with a huff. Ignoring the grin on his face as she disappears into her house.

"That better be all you order. I'm not coming back."

He comes back. At least six more trips, more boxes each time on the last day he doesn't simply leave after making his delivery.

"I'm coming in for tea because of you I've been working too hard." She squeaks indignantly as he pushes past her, their shoulders brushing in the tight space of the doorway.

She should wait until she doesn't have an audience but she's too impatient so while he's making the tea in her kitchen (so rude and intrusive), she starts to open a few boxes pulling out the contents. Dresses, blouses, shirts, hair accessories, lipsticks in all shades and hues, and of course shoes; heels, flats and everything in between.

"Your house looks like a department store." She jumps at his voice glancing up at him, almost laughing at the hedgehog mug that he's drinking out of that Mi-seon gave her as a joke. Leave it to him to pick the most ridiculous mug.

"Hurry up and go so I can try everything on." She starts to take the objects out and organize them, putting together possible outfits lazily.

"Why not have a fashion show?" He slurps loudly at the tea, sighing and smiling down at the warm beverage. Acting like he's never had tea before, such a plebian.

"A fashion show?"

"Yeah, model all that", he motions to the new boxes littering her bedroom floor, "and I'll let you know what looks good."

She scoffs, loudly looking at his lackluster outfit; a simple white tee tucked into dark cargo pants with suspenders.

"What do you know about fashion?" She replies meanly, despite the little voice in her mind that reminds her that while his outfits are more practical than fashionable there is something distracting about the way his shoulders fill out his shirts and the way his long legs sit in his pants.

He shrugs looking down at himself, "I'm the town handy man I have no need to look good. But I'm still a man I can tell you what I think looks good on a woman."

Oh. It's a nonchalant statement said with no real heat but the implications make her skin warm up, she's never once thought that he saw her as a woman; nor considered looking at him like a man. (Lies.)

"I--why woul--why?" She stutters through an answer, tongue heavy in her mouth. He looks back nonplussed, sitting down pointedly on her couch.

"Never took you for the shy kind. You growing bashful now Ms. Dentist?" His eyes twinkle with mischief and she knows that she's being played but she wants nothing more than to wipe that smug look off his face. Slamming her room door, she pulls off her casual house clothes and grabs the first thing that catches her attention- a buttery yellow dress that grazes her knee, pairing them with white heels and a high messy bun. A swipe of lip tint completes the look and she confidently opens her room door.

Du-sik is staring aimlessly at his phone and doesn't notice her reappearance at first, so she coughs loudly folding her arms and when his eyes land on her, a chill runs down her spine at the look that lands on her body. It's been a long time since a man looked at her in this way, his eyes are undressing her even though he was the one who implored her to dress up in the first place. She hates it. At least she should hate it. But she can't ignore the satisfaction that washes over her at his dumbfounded look, that smug look obliterated by her very first look.

"Well?" She pushes harder, twirling to give him the full look. His gasp is loud behind her, she knows exactly why. The deep revealing plunge that travels all the way to the small of her back. There's no way she would wear this to the convention much too suggestive but that's her business.

"Wher-" his voice cracks and this time she can't contain her smile, dimples flashing now at her clear affect on him, clearing his throat he tries again, "Where exactly are you going again?"

She hums turning back around, gleeful at the vibrant blush on his cheeks. So he is just a man after all.

"A dentist convention." She answers cheekily and he guffaws loudly, eyes narrowing at her like he knows exactly what she's trying to do. They stare at each other for a long moment and she ultimately breaks the stand still, realizing what's happening. It feels a lot like flirting.

Collecting herself, she barrels back into the room.

"What the hell are you doing?" She whispers to her reflection, face too flushed for her liking.

A hard knock at the door pulls her from her self chastisement, "You didn't even wait for my rating."

She sighs loudly covering her face in embarrassment at her own action. She doesn't even have alcohol to blame this time.

"I don't care. This was stupid, let's stop."

Of course he ignores her.

"I liked it. But it's too...sexy for convention. You should wear that for someone special. I doubt anyone with a beating heart would be able to resist you."

What the fuck.

This isn't who they are, when did they become comfortable enough for conversations like this? They despised each other, right? Confused and annoyingly flattered, she peels the dress off her body trying her hardest not to think about the fact that only a door separates him and her naked body.

"I would love to see the others. But I have to go, but if you want my opinion. Red is definitely your color."

"What?" She replies, but she can hear the too loud click of the front opening and then closing and just as capriciously as he arrived, he leaves. 

Burying something that feels a lot like disappointment she flops onto her bed, head fuzzy like its been wrapped in cotton.

"What is going on?"

They don't see much of each other the next day and it's unusual given how much they see each other on a regular basis but she refuses to think about it or even consider that he's avoiding her. He's just busy and she doesn't care anyway, they have nothing to do with each other.

The convention is in two days now, she has her overnight bag packed with all her new purchases and the messages have been pouring in their group chat. She's mostly chosen to ignore them but on a whim she decides to check what they're so excited about, only to feel her stomach drop.

Why isn't Hye Jin answering?

Maybe she's busy with her mystery man 😉

Oh! She has to bring him, we need to interrogate him!

Yoon Hye Jin don't pretend you don't see these messages!!

That she had forgotten about.

"Why did you tell them that he's interested in you? Has living here altered your brain, you idiot." She berates herself.

"Who's interested in you? Why are you an idiot?" Mi-seon looks curious from the doorway, without waiting for an invitation she hops onto the bed with two cans of beer. She grabs one, drinking it in a flash.

"Oh it's that kind of night." Mi-seon says excitedly running to grab more beers.

"So let me get this straight, you told them that Chief Hong is interested in you and that he's been chasing you but you're not interested?"

She nods meekly, wishing the floor would swallow her up.

"Why did you lie?"

That's the brunt of the issue, she's a liar. She should have sent her initial message and told them that there was nothing between them but how could she when they were all calling him handsome and acting like she finally did something right? She'd spent that entire dinner feeling like her teenage self on the outside looking in, wanting nothing more than to be someone worthy of being included.

"I know I should have told the truth."

"Yes, you should have told them that you're interested in him too."

Huh.

Time stops as she processes the words that her best friend just uttered. There is static in her head as she tries to make sense of it.

"What are you talking about?"

Mi-seon looks at her unimpressed.

"You can both keep lying to yourself but the rest of us aren't as stupid. You're both interested in each other. It's mutual."

She wants to ardently deny the accusation but the words are caught in her throat and all she can manage are refusing sounds.

"You've been wearing red all week." Mi-seon says accusingly and she jumps up in huff, "So what? I'm allowed to wear colors!"

"You hate wearing red. You said it makes your skin look too pale. You hardly ever wear it. So color me surprised when I learned that red is the favorite color of a certain part timer."

That damn town chat. There has to be a way to get Mi-seon out of it. Maybe it was a mistake letting her live here. She was learning too much.

"Don't even bother to deny it. I won't believe anything you say. But I think you should ask him to go with you, you'll get some time alone to figure this out."

There's nothing to figure out. They are..... acquaintances who can admit that the other is vaguely attractive at times. His face isn't all that bad and she's pretty, so it's natural that there is tension at times, like he said they were still humans.

So she doesn't tell him about her fib, pretending everything is fine until it's the day of the convention and her anxiety has all but smothered her and her hands have a slight tremble in them as she starts to drive.

"It's going to be fine. Everything will be okay." She doesn't believe a word she's saying to herself, her heart is thumping in her heaving chest. She doesn't want to go alone. Convincing Mi-seon to leave was a failed endeavour, her and that police officer becoming inseparable. She knew what that smile meant when her best friend had realized that she would have the house to herself. She could barely get a word in as Mi-seon started frantically shaving her legs then pushed her out of the bathroom to "shave her wild cat".

With a sigh she starts driving, the car too quiet despite what she'd told Du-Sik and the Gongjin grannies. Uncharacteristically she turns on the radio, kpop blaring from the speakers. She recognizes the tune, never before has something as mundane as butter seemed so interesting but the kitchen essential was given new life by the song. She bops her head to the catchy beat, trying to ignore the fact that she's driving to the lion's den.

Some time later, she pulls into the hotel a valet already coming over to get her car. Grabbing her overnight bag, she exits the car handing her keys to the waiting hands of the valet.

Everyone is here and none of them had come alone, she was the only one without a plus one. They haven't noticed her yet so she watches as they all laugh at a joke she can't hear, unnecessarily stroking at their husband's chests as if to show off their exorbitantly priced wedding rings. Everything was always a competition here.

She shouldn't have come. Their was nothing about her life that they would be envious of. She was going to make a fool of herself. Impulsively she starts stepping back but it's too late, Hong In-A spots her and points her out and immediately all eyes are on her, they all start walking over to her and she wants nothing more than to run far, far away. Get on a bus and go to the beach and never see any of them ever again. But she's no longer a child, no longer that scared little girl; worked too hard to shed that skin.

Fortifying herself she puts on a fake smile. Ready for war.

"Hye-Jin ah, there you are. We were beginning to think you wouldn't come. You never responded in the group chat." Ye-Ri states with an attitude, looking around her as if searching for someone and eyes brightening when she sees no one. "Did you come alone?" This makes all of them perk up, looking around like chickens with their heads clucking. She swallows the shame the question elicits, "Who would I be with? I told you in already, it's not like that."

They all look at her with pity, it makes her want to slap them all across the face. Who were they to make her feel like shit, she didn't need anyone that didn't make her pathetic.

Finally one of the husbands cracks the awkward tension by introducing himself, she tries her best to ignore the pervasive way his eyes run down her body. Instinctively she crosses her arms, feeling naked under his stare. Nobody else notices her discomfort and after all the introductions, they all walk away as if she's no longer worth their time.

Lump in her throat she walks into the hotel, determined not to show them that they've gotten under her skin.

There's a scheduled lunch and she tries to find a new table but Sung-Mi waves her over and she doesn't see anyone else she recognizes or wants to sit with.

He hadn't been wrong, she has no friends besides Mi-seon.

"You were looking around, were you looking for someone? Are we not good enough to sit with?" The question is asked with a bite and sneer as if the idea is laughable that she would ever be better than any of them.

She swallows her pride, "No nothing like that. I was merely looking around."

Sung-Mi looks satisfied as if putting her in her place has righted her world.

They begin a conversation that completely excludes her, regaling drama that she knows nothing about and doing nothing to bring her up to date or invite her to join. It's the polar opposite of her experience in the countryside and with shocking clarity she realizes that she wishes she were there, it's only been a few hours but she misses it. Nobody looks down on her there, no usually she's the only doing that she notes with shame.

"I'll find the restroom." She says to no one because none of them are paying her any mind except the husband with the wandering eyes and she would much rather not have that attention.

Thankfully the bathroom is empty and she has to stop herself from splashing water on her face, her make-up was done perfectly it would be a waste to ruin it. Pushing her hair behind her ears she takes a deep breath and then another until her head is clearer, the noise lessening.

"It's only a day and a night. You've suffered far worst."

With that lacking pep talk she exits the bathroom, almost colliding into a wall. Wait, no it's just a person- a chest to be specific. She looks up ready to apologize when a familiar face stops her in her tracks.

"What are you doing here?" She stares flabbergasted at him, more dressed up than she's ever seen him. In a white suit with a white vest, the tee-shirt peeking under the only thing that feels like him to her. And his white sneakers. She can't hide her surprise at his sudden appearance and without thinking she starts to pull him to the side, to avoid being seen but she's not fast enough and soon they are swarmed by her colleagues, before she even has a chance to talk to him.

"Aren't you the man from the picture?" Yoo-Jin asks blushing way too much for a married woman if her husband's cold stare means anything.

"The picture?" Du-sik replies, clearly confused.

"You're the guy that's chasing after her. She told us that you liked her and you were courting her." Sung-Mi answers for her, she wants to vanish. It would be better if she had never existed. Even non-existence would be better than this embarrassing moment. "I got a picture of you two last time, when you followed her."

His eyes ping-pong between the group and her and she realizes this is his chance to ruin her. After everything she's done, all her rude comments and snobby remarks about the town and people he cares for so much, this is his chance for revenge. He can laugh and deny any feelings for her, tell them all that she's a liar and he's never been interested in her, not even once. This is what is going to happen. She prepares herself for the fall out, surely after this she won't be able to show her face in Seoul again.

He starts to laugh and her stomach tightens, her palms are so sweaty.

Here it goes.

"Oh I guess she wanted to keep me a secret."

Wait. What. That doesn't sound like denial.

"We're together now. I finally bulldozed those walls and made her mine. Nice to meet you all I'm Hong Du-sik, Hye-Jin ah's boyfriend."

Her eyes widen as he bows and starts to shake hands with the husbands, the one that stared at her looking disappointed. Their handshake goes on for a second too long, eventually with the latter pulling away with a pained look. She's too confused to consider what that means.

"And you were so cold earlier saying you had no one. Did you want to make a fool of us?"

He answers for her, "It's nothing like that, my honey is still getting used to us. I'm sorry I'm so late I had something to take care of."

Her head is spinning too fast to keep up with everything happening and she's grateful when he excuses them and guides her outside with a large hand on her hip.

Fresh air is much appreciated and she takes in huge heaps of it as soon as they're free.

Then reality crashes down on her.

He knows about her lying.

He had called her bluff.

But he didn't out her.

"Why didn't you tell them the truth?" She finally manages to say, head still reeling.

But instead of answering he's staring at her legs, then slowly his eyes swivel upward cross her thighs curving around her hips, past her breasts (a bit too slow there) before moving to her collar and settling on her face.

"You look great."

She feels the heat rushing to her face. What was he doing to her?

It hadn't been in purpose but she finds herself in red again, an a line dress with criss crossing straps over her shoulder and a middle slit. It was conservative without being too formal or professional. She'd felt comfortable in it but now seeing that look on his face, comfort is the last thing she feels.

He was distracting her and she couldn't afford that with those harpies inside waiting for her downfall. They needed to get back on track.

"What are you doing here?" She tries again, but he responds with his own question, "Why did you tell them that I was chasing you?"

"It was a mistake. They thought we were together and I just....said that for no reason." It's half the truth.

"They don't seem like your friends. You looked like you needed someone on your side, so I just found myself saying we were together for no reason."

She looks at him blankly, heart pounding now. In her moment of weakness instead of kicking her, he'd lended a helping hand. What kind of person did it make her for expecting the former?

"So what now?" She asks still in disbelief that he's here and that he'd told people that there were dating, she would be angry and offended later that they had readily believed it. Perhaps it didn't seem too farfetched now with him looking like that right now.

"Well, don't look but they're watching us through the glass."

This time she finds herself turning to look and he's the one that has to stop her, he does so by suddenly grabbing her hand and tugging her into his body. She squeaks at the collision. Leaning down so his lips are level with her ear, he speaks, "We can give them a show. I'm happy to be your pretend boyfriend."

Why?

She yearns to ask him why he's willing to go this far for her? Why was he even here when she had never told him where the convention was taking place? But his words were hot on her ear and she's tired of being their source of entertainment so she nods looking up at him, "Just this once. I'm going to lean on you. Let me borrow your eraser and copy your homework."

He stares before a blinding smile graces his handsome face.

"Let's go then." His hand is heavy on her waist as he walks back towards the hotel, taking his role very seriously it seems.

He fits in perfectly. Able to talk about a plethora of topics to anyone he's introduced to and even she's impressed by him. Be it travel, philosophy or poetry he seems well versed in everything things that even she is ignorant to and it makes her regret the way she looked down on him before, he was anything but a country bumpkin.

She leaves him to his conversation to get a drink, a whiskey on the rocks. Needing something hard tonight.

Not that. Down brain.

"Yoon Hye Jin? I would recognize that face anywhere."

Twisting to face the voice, she sees a familiar face- old classmate. Rung Do-Bae, they weren't anything more than classmates despite his many, many attempts.

His eyes sweep over her hungrily. She swallows her drink, painting on a shallow smile.

"Sunbae, how nice to see you here."

Invading her space he grabs her hand, "There is no need for such formalities. You can just call me by my name, Hye Jin ah."

As if she ever would.

Gently she tries to extract her hand but he won't let go and she doesn't want to make a scene.

Suddenly she's warmed by a body pressing into her, she knows who it is without even looking, her body relaxes immediately.

"Sorry I got lost in conversation honey. Who might this be? Another friend of yours?" He thrusts his right hand out and Do-Bae has no choice but to release her hand to return his handshake. Scarily enough she's starting to become used to his nickname, barely reacting to him using it again.

"Yes, this is my sunbae from school. Sunbae this is Hong Du Sik my....."

She knows that this is all an act, they were doing this to help her but she can't bring her tongue to form around the word, boyfriend.

"Her boyfriend." He finishes for her, pulling her tighter to his body.

But Do-Bae looks suspicious now.

"Boyfriend? I thought you were still single. You never changed your status on SNS. I've checked."

"Why are you so curious about that?" Du-sik challenges in return, doing a great job of sounding like a jealous boyfriend. She's almost even convinced.

"Hye Jin ah and I have always had a very special relationship. Beyond that of a hoobae and sunbae. Isn't that right?" He directs the last bit to her and she feels Du-sik stiffen next to her, seemingly believing these lies. So she clears that up.

"I have no idea what you're referring to honestly. We have never had anything that would constitute as a "special" relationship. I would appreciate if you didn't spread such lies, especially to my boyfriend. Enjoy the rest of your night."

She tugs Du-sik away, not waiting for a reply from the other man. The conversation was over anyway.

When they get far enough he speaks, "You have a lot of admirers."

She raises an eyebrow at the non-sequitur.

"Are you surprised?"

He brushes a hand across her cheek, making her freeze.

"No. It makes sense."

She blinks slowly before laughing, it sounds fake even to her ears.

"You should have been an actor. Your acting skills are incredible." He doesn't laugh, doesn't move before they're pulled into another conversation and she tries not to think about how tightly his body is pressed against her own.

"How is he in bed? He hasn't left you alone all day, I bet it's passionate." As soon as lunch had ended they had invited her to a spa, she'd considered saying no but she knew they would talk about her even if she wasn't there so it was best to at least know what they were saying.

Du-sik looked sad to see her go, but she told herself that she wasn't good at reading his faces. They hardly knew each other.

"I can't remember the last time I had a passionate night of sex. Kids and a full time job, leave no time for that. I'm pretty sure he's cheating on me and I'm too tired to even care." Sung-Mi confesses and she's shocked when the others nod in agreement instead of threatening to castrate him, as she'd done when Mi-seon told her about her ex boyfriend cheating.

"I have no complaints. He's... attentive. He's always touching me and pushing his way into my space. He's gentle but passionate, and I like...that he's so much bigger than me." She knows she should stop, this is definitely taking the lies too far. But that night bleeds into her thoughts, making everything she's saying feel true. He'd been so gentle with her, those huge hands cupping her face. She wondered how they would feel on other parts of her body.

"Damn. Look at you getting horny just from remembering. I'm so jealous."

Jealous. There were envious of her, it was all she'd been hoping for but the happiness she expected to erupt never comes. Instead she feels cheap, like she'd used Du-sik for her own benefit. She had tainted that night. This wasn't what she wanted.

As the day had gone on she found herself looking at him too much, he'd come all the way just for her and regardless of her brain trying to minimize that, it was huge. He hated snobby people like them who based a person's worth in their monetary success and yet he put on a smile and chatted with everyone, letting them mock his way of life and call people like him useless dreamers. All while she did nothing to defend him and drank wine, happy that they were being accepted.

He was the perfect gentleman all day and he was getting nothing in return for this. It was all just to help her.

Would a friend truly go this far to help? Was she being naive or was it like Mi-seon said, was she lying to herself?

"I'm such an idiot."

Without another word, she flees the sauna rushing to the locker room and changing back into her clothes. Nobody follows her because they aren't her friends. Why had she wasted so much time trying to impress these people who aren't even truly happy in their own lives?

The drive back is long, and she doesn't know what she's going to say but she knows that she's tired of being scared.

Leaving the key in the car she rushes past the valet, into the hotel elevator pressing their floor and waiting impatiently.

It takes three tries to get into their hotel room but once the door opens, he's right there. Sitting in the seat by the window reading a book.

"You're back early. I thought you would be gone until three?" He looks up, dog earring his book and giving her his full attention. Her heart skips a beat.

"Why did you agree to do this for me? Why go through all this trouble for me?"

It's the same question he's been asking himself since he first met her. Why was he was interested in her and why did he keep wanting to save her?

It was the desire that led to him being here.

He had accidentally overhead Mi-seon talking to Eun Chol about being worried about her, the convention was overnight and everyone would be bringing someone and she'd be all alone. The thought of her alone and isolated, made him race to her without a plan. Only stopping at a store to buy his outfit so he would fit in with her crowd, he'd spent more in that shop then he usually did in a week. But it was worth it for her.

It was a miracle that she hadn't questioned his presence more, he knew it was shameless and deceiving but none of this felt like pretending to him. His jealousy had been real, he'd had to strangle the urge to kick the pervert husband with the wandering eyes and then the insistent sunbae who wouldn't take a hint. She was a vision in the red dress and it wasn't a surprise that men found her enchanting, he just didn't like them looking at her. But she wasn't his, never would be because he couldn't confess.

They weren't right for each other.

"Do you like me?"

That question again. Last time he had laughed it off, called it absurd. But it wasn't. Not liking her would have been absurd.

"I don't know why you're asking me that."

"Because I'm tired of us lying to ourselves. Don't laugh and don't you dare say it's absurd again."

He can't respond, he's stuck on the word "us". It wasn't just him, they were an us?

Hearing that gives him courage he had long thought had been most forever.

"I wasn't pretending today. Nothing was fake to me, I meant it all." It's terrifying, unchartered land for them and he waits to see which one of them will chicken out first. It's sure to happen.

"I'm going to kiss you." She says instead of running like he expected and secretly wished for.

And then she's crossing the room and leaning down to grab his face, she watches him giving him a chance to pull away but he does the opposite, this time he meeting her half way. As soon as their lips meet the kiss is already too much, she's sliding into his lap and he wraps his arms around her tugging her closer until their chests are squished together.

He hasn't kissed anyone like this in a long time.

Hasn't been this close to losing control in a longer time.

"You're dangerous." He whispers into her mouth and she giggles at the statement, wiggling in his arms and rolling into him forcing a punched out groan from his lips.

Carefully he lifts her shirt watching her face closely for any signs that she wants to stop but finding nothing but her palpable lust.

Her skin is unbelievably smooth and soft and he can't stop himself from stroking her, rubbing at her back his hands resting right above her butt.

"How long have you felt this way?" She asks softly seductively nipping at his neck and running a hand over his shirt to caress his stomach, he physically aches for her.

"I wanted you the moment I saw you. But I didn't feel this until you convinced grandma to get her implants. That was when it became more for me."

She looks surprised and he is too, that they're speaking so candidly about feelings they've always denied.

"What about you?"

She stops licking at his neck to look him in the eyes. He's nervous to hear her reply.

"I.... don't know."

He tries to hide his disappointment. Maybe she was starting to retreat back into her shell. Maybe he shouldn't have been so honest.

He's about to untangle them when she continues, "It wasn't at first sight but one day I found myself looking for you. Seeing you become the best part of my day, I started to count on you to be there for me. To expect it. Just like this, I've been scared to lean on anyone until I met you."

Now that's a confession.

Impulsively he stands with her still on his lap, forcing her to to latch onto him so she doesn't tumble to the floor. Not that this would ever happen because he would never let her fall.

"I could have fell!" She cries, clinging to his shoulders and wrapping her legs around his waist. Her half naked bra clad body so close to him is causing another biological crisis in his pants.

Walking to the large bed in the middle of the room he falls backwards, enjoying the view of her on top of him a little too much.

It's all probably too soon and they should probably slow down, but his body is strumming and he wants nothing more than to break her apart.

"I'm all sweaty. I should take a shower."

Instantly an image of her wet and naked under the downpour of a shower flashes in his mind and he has to twist away from her.

"Pervert." She accuses but he can hear how satisfied she is with his reaction. Damn tease.

"Do you want to join me?" She teases some more, having fun now that she knows her power over him.

He looks at her helplessly.

"Are you having fun? Remember what I told you before? I'm still a guy. You're sitting here in your bra taunting me, do you think I'm that much of a good guy? Do you think I don't want to throw you down, rip your clothes off and eat you alive? I'm so hard right now just seeing you naked would be enough to push me over the edge. So don't make propositions you can't follow through on."

She looks dizzy from his words, eyes hooded and glossy. He watches her gulp and then stagger off to the bathroom, without a word to him. It's probably for the best, everything is too charged right now.

A shower for her and many glasses of water for him later, she's back and it's almost time for dinner.

"I think they said dinner starts at 6. Should we head down?"

She glances at him, while opening her bag and pulling out skin creams and some fuzzy socks.

"Would you be opposed to ordering room service and staying here?"

It's the best offer he's heard all day, only second to her asking if he wanted to join her in the shower.

"What about your colleagues?" He asks to make certain that she's really okay with this.

"What about them?" She replies with a shrug and he grins picking up the room service menu.

They order too much food and not enough alcohol but neither of them want to forget this night. She tells him stories about her time in dental school and he's happy to get to know her better, chuckling at the funny stories and commiserating at the sad ones.

Before he knows it night has fallen.

And he realizes that they'll be sharing a bed. Unless she wants him to sleep on the couch.

She's wearing a big shirt and loose shorts and he still can't believe he gets to see her like this.

"Are you coming to bed?" She's already getting under the sheet and that answers his question, this is really happening. He starts to follow her lead, getting under the sheets but keeping a respectable distance between them.

"I'm cold." She announces suddenly and he starts to look for a thermostat in the room or an extra blanket, before realizing that she's looking at him over her shoulder, he stares back confused before she lifts an eyebrow and oh, he gets it. Carefully moving closer he feels her warmth surround him as they meet, forth to back.

"Took you long enough." She grumbles, pulling his arm over here body and settling back into him moving until she's comfortable.

She's so close and warm and her smell is all around him and he feels his restraint dissolving and when she presses back into him, her hip rubbing against his crotch he bites down on his bottom lip.

It's too much for him to resist and without warning or preamble, he's turning her to face him and swallowing her moan of surprise eagerly. He grabs her head firmly holding her in place and slips his tongue into her open mouth, her unique taste exploding on his taste buds. He's hungry for more. So he starts to tug down her shorts, heart beat thundering in his groin. She kicks the shorts away, and he groans at the sight of her panties she was trying to kill him, he was certain.

"You're the devil." He chokes out staring at red lace, he'll never be able to see the color again without getting a raging hard on.

"You haven't seen anything yet. Honey." The word drips from her tongue just like the real thing.

Forgetting all reason and logics he lunges at her, devouring her mouth and sticking his hand in her panties. She's so warm and fuck, wet drenching his fingers.

Simultaneously he thrusts his tongue into her mouth and his fingers in her wet folds, groaning as she melts like butter under his touch. There's no resistance, as he plunges two fingers inside her experimentally before picking up his place when she clutches onto him and grinds back on his fingers, begging the whole time.

"More, more, please!"

As if he could ever deny her anything, with one hand he grabs her ass and the other he thrusts into her opening over and over until her voice gets breathy and she starts to stutter, squirming wildly in his arms and he knows exactly what's coming: the beautiful end. So without warning he pulls back the sheet and slithers down her body, throwing her legs around his head and pushing his tongue in to the brim, hungrily drinking at her until she shakes and combusts in his arms. Sweet on his tongue, he swallows it all greedily.

He strokes her as she recovers from her high, climbing back up her body. So much for taking things slow, but he can't even think about regretting it when he sees the blissed out look on her face. He wants to imprint it in his mind. Nobody else will ever get to see this face but him.

"It's your turn." She says sounding loopy like she's drunk and he laughs as she reaches for the tent in his pants but misses his bulge and instead falls into him.

"You're tired. Go to sleep. That was enough for me, seeing you like that fulfilled every fantasy I've had. "

He truly means it. He's a giver. And it's not like he can't tug one out later in the bathroom with her face and moans playing on repeat in his brain.

She starts to argue, but her phone vibrating on the nightstand distracts her. Reaching over she picks it up before chuckling and flopping back into the bed.

"What?" He asks curious, jealous of whoever is making her smile like that.

Ignorant to his inner thoughts, she thrusts her phone into his face. The room is so dark it takes a moment for his eyes to adjust to the bright lighting of the phone, but once he can see he reads the message on her phone and starts to laugh too.

"Dusik is missing! Nobody has seen him all day!! We started a search party."

[writing-in-april]

Paint me

Laurent LeClaire x Female Reader

Summary: Reader finally has enough money to splurge on getting herself painted for the first time in her life. When she meets her painter, Laurent, she wonders whether she got more than what she bargained for.

A/N: Hello everyone- sorry this ones out a bit late tonight- I had practice and had to finish up a few things on this one after. This is my tenth fic for my 30 fics in 30 days for April- can’t believe we’re 1/3 through 🙈If y’all have ever seen In Secret you know what scene inspired this fic asdjksdj lol 😂 also @propertyofabelmorales fic from Valentine’s Day also inspired me 🥰 I low key probably spent more time on this than necessary considering he isn’t a very popular character but I couldn’t help myself 😅 In secret was actually the first movie (that wasn’t Star Wars) that I saw Oscar Isaac in so Laurent low key has my heart- even with his murderous tendencies 😂 I always love hearing from my followers so feel free to drop an ask or request here. Thanks for reading and hope y’all enjoy.

Warnings: 18+, Smut, Reader is fearful of Laurent, Reader thinks Laurent might kill her, Dubcon, Oral sex (F receiving), Unprotected sex, Creampie- if any other warnings need to be added let me know

Main Masterlist Word Count: 3.2K

Being painted was an important status symbol in this life. To have your image captured for all to see, put down on canvas by paint from a brush was a way of showing off beauty to the people around you, and the people that came after.

You were elated to have your image captured on canvas for the first time, finally able to afford it on your own. A rare sight in the world that you lived in to see a woman able to pay the fee of having her portrait painted.

Such a rare sight it was that when you had chosen a painter and contacted him he had almost seemed confused. When he had asked if you had a husband you had snorted turning up your nose to then tell him no. It was not that you did not want any sort of romantic touch, but being tied down to someone for years that would probably not cherish you the way you deserved sickened you. So, with no one around to pressure you into an arranged marriage you remained unmarried.

The painter you had hired, Laurent, was sweet as honey, almost to a sickly degree. The charm had remained even after he had realized that you were alone, basically a spinster. Whether or not he kept up the act because he thought it would be easier to get underneath your skirts or because he truly did not mind an independent woman did not matter to you. You would only let your gaze linger over while he painted you, that was all. He was here to paint you, nothing more.

He had positioned you in a chair to sit in a simple position. His reasoning for that he told you was that the simpler the position, the easier it was for your beauty to shine. Painters had a way with words though, so you tried not to let your heart swell from the compliment.

You let yourself stare in each session as he began to lay out the foundation of your likeness. Each time you sat in the chair time ticked by slowly, inch by inch. It was not as if you minded as it let you look upon how his inky curls shone in the dim lighting, plus every other part your eyes were allowed access to. It was only fair in your book, considering his job was to stare at you.

This session you were in now seemed different to the others; he seemed more distant. While you both stared at the other not a single word was exchanged, only the brush on canvas got to speak today with each stroke.

It was harder to concentrate this time on staying as still as possible. You ached to move your legs over, just a bit to the side. Daring to test the waters, hoping he would not notice, your legs twitched a little over to the right.

For a while he continued to say nothing, painting with ease like he had completely missed the twitch in your legs. That was until he decided to speak for the first time in hours,

“No-“ His face twisted, morphing into a look tinged with darkness. It was this first sign of displeasure you had heard from your hours of sitting as if you had a rod in your spine. Dipping his brush back into his paints again to find his desired color was a much more rushed action than before. It was an annoyed and quick movement, trying to swiftly correct the mistake you had assumed he had made. When he returned his brush where it belonged on his canvas it scraped along it as he pushed the paint along, molding it into his image.

Another moment goes by silently and with no more words of displeasure; you begin to relax into your position again. It was already hard to relax fully while his eyes flitted from your body to his canvas; your nerves only raised higher after his outward sign of displeasure. He scrutinized every angle and curve as his eye took in every inch of you to create an accurate portrait of you. You wondered if in his fee there was an understanding that he would paint you in the highest light possible. Though, truth be told it was foolish to question that. What type of painter would he be if he displeased his clients by being honest in his paintings?

It was in his job description to lie. Painters depicted the beauty they saw and made it shine, even if that meant trying to find beauty in the darkest of corners to forcefully shed a light on them. All it took was a painter of proper skill, a canvas, and of course a set of paints. Any unwilling features that tried to fight their painters lies would be forcefully bent to their will, almost like a king, and all with a simple stroke to canvas. No, you weren’t ugly, but you accepted that it was his job to bend the truth to his will.

The darkness you had briefly observed reappeared on his face once more. He tried to be quiet in his frustration, but his whisper could not contain the anger brewing beneath. Truthfully his words were a far cry from a whisper, it was more of a shout, “It is not right!”

Naturally you wanted to question what had made the painter suddenly rise with anger, though you wisely kept your mouth shut tight. You did not know this man, nor did you know what he could be capable of underneath the sweet words. The darkness that brewed glinted in his eyes as he took his brush to canvas again, this time with more venom in his strokes.

You were not going to trust the honeyed words he had spoken to you, at least not now while you saw how the honey could possibly be sour. Even though honey never turned acrid in common knowledge, the sight before you disproved that. Each new brush against his canvas turned violent, almost as if he’d push through the canvas with how much force he was using and create a hole.

You could have left the room in a hurry, or even demanded him leave. After all, it was you that employed him. Watching honey that soured so quick intrigued you, so the rod stayed in your spine, though you knew it was naive of you. You couldn’t trust his words, but you could still listen to them.

Brush after brush splattered paint onto the canvas in front of him that you could not view. His once dexterous movements had devolved into a man you did not know, not that you truly knew him beforehand either. You couldn’t imagine he was painting anything close to your likeness; you highly doubted long irritated strokes would be good for each of your contours and curves.

Clattering noises filled the air of the room you were both trapped in, one trapped by his job and one trapped by curiosity. You hoped the curiosity didn’t kill you like the cat. He had kicked the easel that held the painting he was being paid for, which had caused the clattering. Gripping the paintbrush in his hand with fury he then separated it from the canvas and began to pace.

As he paced your mind wandered further; it was all it could do while it was stuck observing the man before you spiral. You wondered if he had forgotten your presence, even if he had been painting you- and you had even been doubting that.

Clearly he hadn’t forgotten about you as he suddenly stopped his pacing, slowly turning to face you again. His gaze no longer flitted between two things calling his attention, now fully focused on you, still with that rod in your spine.

“It is you.” He spoke with a deadly bite and you could not help but have your bottom lip wobble at his accusation. Racking your brain you tried to find why you were the one that was the source of his wrath and why you were the one that was about to receive it. “You are not in the right position.”

You wanted to protest, saying that you had not moved a muscle since he had placed you in this exact position with your spine rigid in a chair. The protest became stuck in your throat, no doubt because of the fear you now held for the darkness that brewed underneath. You remained stoically silent, rigid as ever, waiting for him to mold you into the position that he wanted you in.

He twirled his paintbrush in his hand absentmindedly while he thought. You did not know what he was pondering, though you had to guess it had something to do with fixing how you were positioned. He answered your own curious thoughts by confirming them, “You need to relax.”

Relaxing, that was hard enough earlier when you had not had fear put in you. Still, you tried to let go of the tension held tightly in your shoulders forcefully just as he did whenever he forced your features to look their best in his painting.

He then sighed, obviously displeased with your effort. Instead of letting you try again he simply gave you an order to ‘stay still’ while he began to approach you with his paintbrush in hand.

As the paintbrush approached you instead of the canvas you could not help but tremble as it came closer. It was not any sort of weapon that could do you any harm; it would take a lot to hurt someone with a paintbrush. Still, you quivered as it approached, perhaps more because of the gaze that was transfixed on you.

Laurent’s gaze was wild, a hint of madness was evident in his eyes. They were two dark pools of almost black fixed upon you as if they were set on devouring you in the oblivion in their depths. Eyes were said to be the window to the soul and Laurent did little to make you doubt that claim. He did not give you soothing words as he saw you tremble beneath his daunting gaze and the slowly approaching bristles of the paintbrush, still partially coated in the color he had last been using. Instead of giving you the soothing words you may have desired the paintbrush crept closer, like it was stalking you in the night just as the obsidian pools he called eyes.

Your quivers were not solely because of the glint of madness you could see, hiding in the depths of his eyes. It would be a lie to say that all your quivers and shivers were rooted in the fear as to what he might do to you if you dared move from the position he had placed you in hours beforehand. Something else akin to desire had found itself at home run in through your veins, unburdened by the worries of what the black pools might be hiding in their abyss.

That feeling, the one that was running through your veins in spite of the lingering fear, was soon guiding your body. You were no longer staying rigid in your position out of fear; you wanted him to touch you, even if only with the tips of his brush.

He knelt down when close enough to then reach to lift up your skirts. You were scarcely breathing now, still afraid yet intrigued as to what a man could do with a simple paint brush. Opening your legs up at the approach of his paintbrush would have been indecent to some, but you could not help yourself. Biting your lip hard enough to possibly draw blood was so you did not move into his touch, letting him come to you as you did not want to incite his wrath. You wanted him to touch you with it, despite that fear of those black pools staring fiercely at you.

The soft bristles finally grazed the inner flesh of your thigh, a small tickle running through the nerves connected to the spot it touched. You could’ve been fooled into thinking that it had been the brush of his hand if your own eyes hadn’t been fixated upon him.

You moved your position just a hair, maybe even smaller than the ones on the paintbrush used to move you.

“There.” His whisper breathless, now devoid of the darkness that had stifled any sweetness.

You ached to hear him say it again, it was not a praise for you in the strictest sense. He had been simply readjusting you, hardly any room or need for any praise. The way he had whispered it along with the whisper of the brush upon your skin made it feel like he was praising you. Before you knew what was happening or considered the consequences you chased the brush he had begun to pull back with your thighs.

The darkness quickly came back on his face when he had noticed you had moved to chase his touch. He began to bark out a command to put you back in your place, even though he was the painter, and you, the client. “Sit ba-“

“Brush me again.” Your plea was too beautiful for him to let it go unanswered, even though you had cut him off. There no doubt was still lingering fear inside you, afraid of what he might do in retaliation.

He surprisingly obliged you, you could see his curiosity meld with the darkness in him. He lifted your skirts again, holding the brush just above the spot where he had touched moments before.

When he brushed the inner flesh of your thigh again, the pressure was harder, less unsure.

That simple touch made you moan, even though he wasn’t touching any spot that normally might bring you pleasure. It was as if a dark shadow had cascaded across his face to blur your perception of who he probably was underneath it all. If it wasn’t for your curiosity and your simple desire you would have thought more critically about his next request.

“Take off your dress.” Like someone without a thought you stripped it off of you in haste, as did he with his own clothes.

In no time at all it seemed, his mouth had enveloped your own, keen on devouring all you had to offer. He picked you up with ease by the tops of your now naked thighs so he could lower you to the floor. He then allowed himself to nip and suck on any section of skin he desired to put his mouth on. Not that you could reciprocate as he had your hands held above your head.

When his fingers started to dance along the tops of your thighs just as the brush had done you instinctively pushed your thighs together. The action was quickly reversed by Laurent releasing your hands to push your thighs apart, giving him an unobstructed view of your entrance.

His mouth was soon swiftly on the places that brought you pleasure, sucking your pearl into his mouth like a sweet.

You wanted to writhe underneath him out of sheer pleasure, but he did not need to bind you to make you immobile. That fear still lingering in your mind kept your body still, even as he combined his mouth with his fingers by pushing them into your entrance.

“There?” He whispered as he crooked them upwards, trying to find the spot that would make you see stars. It wasn’t quite right though, so you shook your head side to side. You didn’t dare to speak, not that you could do anything more but making unintelligible moans of pleasure.

“There.” He whispered with finality when he hit that somewhat spongy spot inside you making you cry out louder than before. It was so nice to hear him say those words again, honeyed words that tasted so sweet even though they were tainted by darkness. Your release shot through you quickly, like an arrow sent to kill you.

He removed his fingers from you when you were finished with your first release of the night, wasting no time to push himself inside you. He was larger than any other man you had been with, stretching you blissfully and almost painfully. You were lucky he was not too cruel to not let you adjust to his size, but as soon as you had he unleashed himself upon you. All you could do was wrap your legs around his waist and let him thrust into you at a brutal pace. The sounds of skin slapping on skin were so loud they almost over took the moans you were emitting along with his grunts.

When his hand came to wrap around your neck your own mortality became evident to you. Early before you had succumbed to his touch with a simple brush, you had been afraid he might harm you, even with the desire pumping through your blood. You had not even thought of beyond a simple bruise or cut to your flesh by him. His hand around your throat while he thrusted into you made you wonder how much it would take for him to squeeze until your lips turned blue.

Desire one again took over your fear, his hand around your neck combined with the sweet nothings whispered in your ear made you fall apart again. It was a slow devastating release like honey dripping off a spoon languidly until it dropped down to sweeten the pot. Even though his own honey had turned sour, he still was fully capable of making people feel sweetness while shrouded in darkness.

He filled you soon after you had finished your own release with a grunt. Neither of you had any real care to be able to give to the possible consequences of him filling you. He rolled off of you and you were glad in the moment he didn’t crush you under his weight like most men would have done.

Silence seemed to be a staple item that constantly wormed its way in between the two of you. No one spoke for a while, truthfully it might have been an hour. Laurent was the first to break it again, with much less malice than before,

“Do you want me to continue to paint you?” He whispered into your skin as he continued to pepper his plush lips across your skin. Glancing up towards the easel that still faced the canvas away from you and then over to the bare man next to you helped aid you in your decision. You could let him leave with wasted paints, wasted canvas, and wasted potential.

The wasted potential was what stopped you from letting him paint the rest of the angles of your body. Pondering what could come of the painting, and your relationship with the man who had just made you see stars while simultaneously making you fear or your life at the same time made you frown. The possibilities were endless, but those two black pools hid something too interesting for you to ignore. You wanted to know more, even ached for it.

“Yes.” You simply replied and you then willingly fell into the abyss.

Ask Me Anything

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