#what I’m saying is. he’s slept with th

[reignpage]

When the Night Changes

Synopsis: in which you've been following your coworker around, trying to wriggle your way into his good graces, only to realise maybe there was never any room to begin with Warnings: a little angsty at the beginning but happy ending, office romance, rom-com, the beginning of a love story vibes, not proofread Word Count: 2.4k Office fun winky face here

Your coworker, Nanami, is a tough nut to crack. Since entering the company, you’ve stuck by him like dirt on a shoe — which is certainly how he thinks of you, you’re sure. In many ways, you’ve become an integral part of his life. 

Being the first thing he sees in the morning when he steps foot in the office is a duty you take very seriously. In fact, sometimes you time everything perfectly to run into him just as he’s entering the lobby. Then, with a wide smile, you greet him.

“Good morning, Nanami. How are you?”

His answer is always the same, of course: “Morning. I’m well.”

He doesn’t ask about you. He never really does. But that doesn’t matter because he doesn’t interrupt when you go on your spiel about how you slept, what you had for breakfast, how the traffic was and so on and so forth. 

During the day, you’ll sporadically stop by his office, popping your head in. You don’t have anything important to say, usually, but you always find something to say, nonetheless. 

“Heya, Nanami. I was looking out of the window and into the street earlier. I saw the cutest dogs ever. They were sniffing each other’s butts. I think they’ll be great friends. Do you ever want dogs?”

The man doesn’t look up from his computer. Instead, he continues to type, a perpetual frown pulling his brows and lips down as he works on whatever he’s working on. Still, he responds, “No.”

“Why?” You ponder. “Don’t like dogs? Prefer cats? Or you don’t like pets at all?”

“I can’t take care of an animal; I’m much too busy.”

That’s a huge lore drop if you’ve ever heard one. You beam. He’s warming up to you and it only took months! You leave him to it with a bigger smile on your face that you came with. 

When lunchtime comes around, you sit by him in the canteen. Nanami sits in the corner, by the window, alone. Well, alone with you but he doesn’t complain. So, you do your thing. 

“Oh, look! We chose the same main. We must be meant to be, right?”

No reply. 

“You drink coffee with your lunch? All I ever see you drink is coffee. Unless it’s at an after-work dinner, in which case you can drink anyone under the table. That’s really impressive!”

That piques his interest. Gaze lifting to meet yours, he clarifies, “You think alcoholism is impressive?”

“Uh…”

“Please, be more conscious of what you say.” Nanami places his utensils together, they clink in a way that pierces through you. Flinching, you’re left silenced when he gets up and leaves with no further word to you. 

Stuck in your head, you replay that conversation again and again an hour or two later. You hadn’t meant to insult him. Maybe you were a little thoughtless with your words, maybe you shouldn’t have assumed his business after work is any of yours. In either case, you should apologise. 

At the end of the day, you follow him out, pushing past the other people to try and reach him before he walks the other way to you. When you emerge through the crowd, you see him. 

Him and a woman. 

She’s gorgeous. With a slight smirk on her lips, she holds a cigarette between her fingers as she converses with Nanami. You understand now. Of course he doesn’t give you the time of day; he’s got a beautiful girlfriend who’s nothing like you. 

The next morning, you aren’t there to greet him with a blinding smile as soon as he steps foot into the workplace. His eyes find you, behind your desk, typing away with your head down. He frowns. 

Sometime later, he sees a glimpse of you by his door. He braces himself for your mindless chattering, but when you simply walk past his office, he hears an irritating noise echo in his corner — he’s fiddling with a pen, tapping the head against the wood of his desk in rapid succession. Nanami didn’t know he had such a habit. 

At lunch, you don’t sit by him. In fact, he doesn’t see you at all. That’s how the rest of the week passes. He doesn’t know why it bothers him so. Though he never resented your presence, he also never thought much of it. You’re young and new; you just wanted a stable figure around. Nanami is not that. 

In the hallway, you pass him by with a respectful bow, but your eyes don’t meet his even as he purposefully slows down to catch them. An odd ache thuds thuds thuds in his chest. 

Why does he care so much?

Could it be he’s actually grown to care? 

Had he really let his guard down so much that you, a non-sorcerer, could find its way into his world?

He wonders, then, what to do with this predicament. On one hand, he could always ignore this odd sensation in his stomach, somewhat akin to moths zipping around, and on the other, he could try and see where this will go. But is he too late?

You were so lovely to be around and now you’re avoiding him like the plague. Had he said something? Did he offend you?

Nanami’s thoughts are filled with all sorts of questions that evening. When he wakes up the next day, there are bags under his eyes, much deeper and darker than usual. There’s nothing he could do about them, though, so he dresses himself the way he does all the time — under layers, socks, pressed pants, ironed shirt, tie, a blazer and then his shoes. 

One thing he does do differently, however, is hold two cups of coffee in his hands when he enters the lobby. He sees you waiting for the elevator. Then, widening his strides, he reaches you just as the telltale ping resounds. 

“Good morning, Y/n. How are you?”

Surprised by his gravelly voice, you stammer, “I’m well. Ahem, h-how are you?”

He smiles. “I’m great. Coffee?”

You take the cup from him with suspicion lacing every twitch of an expression in your face. The man can’t help but find it adorable — what an odd thought. He’s never found a woman adorable before. Objectively good-looking, sure, in his lowest times. But usually, he can only make remarks regarding their work ethic. How fascinating. 

Parting ways, you both look back at the same, him with a welcoming nod and you with shock. This is turning out to be more fun than he thought; you are so animated. 

Later, he taps his pen against his chin, squinting at the window as he observes the street below. He’s trying to find something interesting. There are no dogs sniffing each other’s behinds, no ice cream van bringing joy on a warm day (as you mentioned to him last week), and there are no rainbows to take pictures of and show to everyone in the office. 

Of course, Nanami’s aware that it’s likely all to do with perspective — he’s been finding Tokyo rather monotonous these days. But that isn’t something he can change overnight. So, he resorts to a different tactic. 

“Hello, Y/n. Are you busy?”

Clanking, thudding and stuttering fill up your office; so startled by his sudden appearance in your space, you’ve jolted and rocked your entire desk around, knocking paperweights about the place. Clearly frazzled then, your tone comes out much harsher than you’d intended, he can tell. “What do you wan—I mean, sorry. Hi, Nanami. What can I do for you”

“Nothing. I was simply stretching my legs and looking for a sight to brighten my day.”

“Uhh…did you find one? I can help you look.”

He shakes his head and then, with a final sweep of your face, he nods and leaves. 

It’s obvious he’s the one to blame for the cautious look on your face which remains all the way until lunchtime when he stops by your office, curious to know where you’ve been eating your food. 

Just about to take your first bite, by the looks of it, you make a noise of embarrassment and frustration. “Nanami, why are you here?”

“I’d like to have lunch with you. Please join me in the canteen; I hadn’t prepared a lunchbox.”

“No. Shoo.”

He raises a brow. “Shoo?”

“Yes, go. I don’t know if you’re sick or you’ve been probed, but you’re acting weird today. Please, enjoy your lunch without me.”

Nanami takes a seat in front of you, crossing his legs and leaning back. The bastard’s making himself comfortable. Patiently, he responds, “To enjoy my lunch, you’d have to be with me. I rather like your stories.”

“My stories? I thought you hated them.”

“Why ever would you think that?”

Your arms flail in disbelief. “Hello? You never respond. You just grunt in that man-ish way.”

“I do?”

“Yes!”

Both of you are aware this is the longest conversation you’ve ever shared. It’s almost comical how naturally the sentences flow out between you when before you were lucky if he even responded to a question regarding anything but work. 

“Well, I do apologise for giving you that impression. I love hearing your stories. Especially the ongoing one regarding your aunt and her disloyal partner.”

You beam. “Oh my God! Speaking of, you will not believe what happened last— Hey! Don’t distract me. You know what you’re doing.”

“I do?”

Groaning, you smack your head against the desk. Nanami winces. In a flash, he’s taken hold of your face, tilting your chin back to inspect your forehead. There’s no mark. Thank goodness. 

“Please be careful. That sounded like it hurt.”

You frown and then fall limp in his grasp. Nanami’s making it so difficult for you to keep your distance. You wanted to squash your crush and be respectful of his relationship but then he goes and caresses your cheek with his thumb like you’re precious. To him. Muttering, you complain, “You shouldn’t do that. What would your girlfriend think?”

A pause so thick it’d have to be cut with a chainsaw.

And a silence so loud it’s deafening. 

He blinks and then laughs. It’s a nice sound; he really ought to laugh more.

“Girlfriend? I don’t have a girlfriend, Y/n. Whoever sold you that egregious lie?”

“But…but…there was a woman. She had short hair. Very pretty. You met with her after work.”

Leaning back in his chair, he rubs a hand over a grin so unlike him it almost transforms his face into someone else’s entirely. Nanami practically looks a decade younger. Before you had always looked up to him as this wise, mature, and experienced leader. Now, he just looks like a man. A very handsome, drool-worthy man, but a man, nonetheless. 

Now, he actually looks…attainable. 

“That would be Shoko. A friend. I assure you; we do not regard each other in that capacity. Far from it.”

“Oh.”

He checks his watch. He sighs. You watch him stand up and brush invisible dust off his pants. “If you won’t have lunch with me, then please, join me for dinner tonight. I’d like very much to hear all about your aunt and her unfortunate love life…But more than that, I’d like to hear about you.”

“Why?” You hadn’t intended to blurt that out but the way you said it sounds very much like you’re judging him for taking an interest on you. 

Features softening, he lets show a moment of vulnerability. “Because life is far too short to live with regrets.”

And he disappears, leaving you positively, irrefutably gobsmacked. 

The rest of the day for you goes by much longer than usual. Over and over again, your mind replays that conversation, from how out of nowhere it was to how natural it felt. Just a week before, you would have been over the moon to have had such an experience with Nanami — and you certainly still are — but now, you’re also worried about what it all means. 

From observing him, you’ve always had the feeling that he carried more burdens than anyone else does. There was an air of mystery, of danger, and of tragedy to him. Perhaps that was what lured you in in the first place. 

Now, he wants to have dinner?

As in, a dinner date? 

But you aren’t wearing date makeup. And you would have been working all day, sweaty and tired and ugly, no?

Where is he even taking you? What’s the lighting situation? 

God, you don’t even have a pack of gum.

When the day ends, there’s a pounding in your chest and a clamminess to your hands. Extraordinarily conscious of yourself, you grimace when you catch a glimpse of your reflection in the elevator mirror. Everything was wrong: your hair’s messy, your pores are huge, and your lips are chapped. 

So ridiculous is it all that you just about make a decision to hide in the bathroom when Nanami steps into view once the doors open, blocking your way out like somehow, he knew where you thoughts had ended up. 

“You weren’t, by any chance, going to leave me waiting, were you?”

“No,” you say, but the sheepish gummy smile you give him tells a different story. 

Nanami leads you out. With the sun setting, casting a warm glow about the place, you two stand there watching the city come to life with people just like you — stressed, anxious, and busy. You hear none of the noise of traffic, see none of the flash of lights obscuring the clear sky from sight, nor smell the pollution usually rife in such a populated city.

There’s a stillness in the air between you. A calm with no storm. The pounding of your heart leaves, so does the fight or flight instincts that had your nerves on edge. It feels like you’ve just taken a step inside the world of Kento. 

“You don’t have to have dinner with me. We can always return to normal. I won’t hold it against you if this sudden change is too much to come to terms with. But it’d be my pleasure if you would.”

Hesitantly —or shyly— you ask, “You want to take me out on a date?”

He meets your eyes. A small smile pulls at his lips. 

“I do.”

[yellowbrokenblue]

I fucking own you | RAFE CAMERON

You’ve been working for the Cameron’s for a few months, and a while ago you made the biggest mistake of your life- you slept with Rafe Cameron. And now, it was about to happen again. You were in too deep, and you fucking loved it.

cw: smut, rough sex, bondage, rafe is feral, dirty talk, degradation

“I asked for a drink half an hour ago. Where is it.”

He came closer and closer to you, his eyes dark and filled with pure annoyance. It wasn’t that you went out of your way to disobey Rafe’s orders, but when you had as much on your plate as you did- it became easier and easier to slip up. People have this idea in their head that being a housemaid is a simple job- but when you work for the Cameron family, it’s nowhere near simple.

“Raf- Mr Cameron. You know that my job is not to run around fetching you food and drink whenever you feel about it. I’m here to look after the house, not you.”

He scoffed.

“Talk to me like that again, pogue, and I’ll get you fired.”

Rafe had been threatening to get his father to fire you ever since you made the biggest slip up of your entire life. You prided yourself on being a smart person who always made good choices- but then one night you ended up tangled in the sheets of Rafe Cameron’s bed- and that does not happen to people who make good choices.

After that night you vowed to avoid him as much as you possibly could. You couldn’t afford to get him so angry that he’d rat you out to his dad and loose this job.

But your biggest problem was that no matter how hard you tried to stand up for yourself, you’d always cave in front of him. You’d always end up getting him that drink even though it wasn’t your job, you’d fetch his dry cleaning before your shift simply because he asked you. And worst of all, you let him fuck you.

But it would never happen again.

“I’m sorry, Mr Cameron.” You apologised, nodding your head.

“Good.” He said, before lowering his voice, “Now go and be the nice, obedient girl that I remember, and get me a Scotch.”

You swallowed, nodding.

With shaky hands, you make your way to the bar cart in the corner, placing some ice in the glass and pouring the shot. You might not have had eyes on the back of your head, but you could feel his eyes on you- his gaze was burning into the back of your head.

He treated you like shit, it’s not as if you were unaware of it. Sometimes you got worried about the fact that occasionally it made you want him more.

You turn around, and try to give him the glass. He noticed your shaking hands and smirked. This man has evil written all over him.

“I change my mind, sweetheart.” He said, his tone rude and condescending, “I want my drink in my bedroom.”

“Can’t you just take it up, I-”

He scoffed, “You’re what? You’re telling me to do your job because you’re worried about being next to my bed again? Are you really that weak, pogue?”

Your heart was beating uncontrollably.

“Of course not.” You reply, “I’ll take it up to your room right away.”

“That’s a good girl.”

You leave the room and follow the, what feels like endless, stairs up to Rafe’s room. His section of the house was bigger than your entire apartment on the other side of the island. When he says ‘room’ he really means entire suite. The living area opened up into a huge bedroom with an en-suite, and he even had a small kitchenette to the far left with different cooking appliances. The microwave itself was probably worth more than your entire wardrobe.

You placed the glass on the small table next to the couch, when you heard the door open, close and then lock.

You turn around, rapidly, to be faced with Rafe’s face already only inches away from yours.

“Don’t look so worried, sweetheart.” He said, snaking his arms around your waist and pulling your body against his, “You know I’m not gonna hurt you.”

“Rafe, we can’t do this again. I need this job, you know that.”

Instead of a reply, he lent down and attached his lips to your neck, making a b-line for the sweet spot that he must’ve remembered from last time.

You used all of the strength in you to stop yourself from letting out a moan, but then he pressed his crotch against your stomach, and the moan slipped out.

“I knew you wanted me.” Rafe said, pulling away and holding your face with his hands, “I could see it in your eyes, they just scream out how desperate you are for my cock.”

Rafe’s hands reach for the buttons of your blouse, looking at your face, waiting for a signal that it’s okay for him to continue. He wasn’t a good guy, but he had enough good in him to make sure you were okay with this.

You gave him a quick nod, and he made quick work of taking off your blouse, throwing it on the floor.

“The shit my dad makes the help wear is fuckin’ ugly.” Rafe said, “I much prefer when you look like this.”

His hands raked over your body, and over your bra.

“How would you cope if I worked naked every day?” You joked.

“I wouldn’t.”

Before you knew it, your bra joined your shirt on the floor, your tits spilling free.

“Pants off. Lie on the couch.” Rafe demanded, taking a step back, waiting to watch you undress. “I have plans for you before you get my dick. So, be a good girl and do as I say.”

You bite the side of your cheek, unbuttoning your pants and kicking them off.

“Panties too.” Rafe said, “I want to see all of you.”

Once again, you done as he said, peeling your underwear from your body, leaving you completely naked lying on his couch.

It was intimidating lying like this with him watching you while he stood fully clothed. But then again, every time Rafe looked at you there would be some sort of intimidation involved.

“Now,” He said, slowly unbuttoning his white shirt, “I’m gonna tell you how this is gonna go, and you’re gonna listen.”

He took his shirt off and lifted the glass of Scotch.

“You’re gonna lay there nice and still and well behaved, understand? And while you do that, I’m gonna have some fun.” He says, moving his arm so that his glass of liquor was hovering above you, before tilting it and letting the liquid drip over your stomach.

It was ice cold, yet the feeling made your head fall back. The anticipation was killing you, and he knew it. Rafe was taking his sweet time simply just to torture you.

You watched Rafe sink to his knees, dropping the glass on the floor, ice spilling everywhere.

“You’re gonna forget who the fuck you are when I’m done with you.”

His mouth attached itself your breasts, his tongue licking up the alcohol that had dripped onto them, before slowly making his way down your stomach, licking and sucking at every trace of liquor he could find.

Most of the liquid had pooled around your belly button, and as he got closer to that area, he gripped your thigh to steady his body, making sure to purposely brush his fingers over the aching heat between your legs, enjoying the soft moan you let out.

You couldn’t help but groan as he sucked harder at your skin, his tongue all over your stomach. You wanted that tongue sucking at your tits, in your mouth, between your legs. You wanted him everywhere.

“You’re desperate for me. I can tell.” Rafe said, using the grip he had on your thigh to spin you around, so that you were sitting facing him on the couch.

Arousal was dripping down your legs as his hand crept further and further up your thigh.

“I was gonna take my time with you today, sweetheart. But I think you want my cock right now, am I right?”

You nod, desperately.

“Words.” He demands.

“Yes.” You plead.

He shakes his head, “I know you remember the rules. Yes, what?”

You swallow.

“Yes, Sir.”

Even in the bedroom, Rafe had to remind you that you would always be beneath him. His superiority complex would never die, yet your sheer desperation could look past that.

The power dynamic was unhealthy, it’s not as if you were unaware. Technically you were still on shift working at his house right now. But you allowed yourself to look past it simply because of how badly you wanted him.

How badly you needed him.

Next, he told you to go and lie on his bed- and he followed you into the bedroom area but instead of joining you on the sheets he opened the door to his closet, rifling through until he pulled out a long black tie.

“I think you need a reminder today of who is in charge.” He says, coming closer to the bed.

“You.” You whisper, “You are in charge.”

“You’re right,” He said, “But I need to be really sure that you underhand that. So give me your wrists.”

He takes your hands and wraps his tie tightly around them, before guiding your arms to the headboard of the bed, where he looped the tie around and secured your wrists to the bed.

“Tell me if it’s too tight.” He said, a slither of genuine humanity showing through his words.

“It’s fine.” You reply.

It was somewhat exciting, to be here tied up for Rafe. He could do whatever he wanted and there wasn’t much you could do about it. But at the same time, it was nerve wracking.

“I’m not gonna hurt you, so you have to try to be a little less tense, alright?” Rafe said. His words were genuine, but it didn’t come off as such.

He unbuckled his pants, pulling them off and pushing them aside, leaving you staring at him in his briefs.

“Where do I start.” Rafe says, placing a hand on each of your thighs, spreading your legs apart.

“Look how fucking wet you are.” He said, running a single finger over your folds, “I didn’t realise what a desperate whore you were.”

Rafe’s patience thins- his solid erection paired with your dripping wet cunt is driving him crazy and he can’t wait any longer. He quickly flips you over onto your stomach and pushes your ass into the air, keeping your legs spread so he can access.

“Are you still on the pill?” He asks while he massages his cock. He needs to be inside of you. Right now.

You nod. “Yeah.”

With the anticipation, that one single word is all you can croak out of your mouth.

With no warning, you find Rafe’s cock pushing into you with a speed you can’t quite comprehend.

“Your tight little cunt.” Rafe moans, splitting you open, “I bet no one’s fucked you since the last time you had my dick, huh? You keep this pussy just for me?”

You moan, your face pushed into the sheets as you take the full length of Rafe’s dick.

“Agh!” You cry, “You, Rafe, just you.”

He’s thrusting into you with no thoughts in his mind. You knew Rafe fucked rough, but this was a new level of feral you hadn’t seen before- and you were kind of loving. You tugged on the tie restraining your wrists while you cried his name.

“I own you.” Rafe says, “I fucking own you, you understand?”

You moan loudly, his dick still pounding into you.

“I said do you fucking understand?”

“Agh! Fuck!” You cry, “I’m yours, Rafe. You own me, you own me.”

You were so close to your orgasm, clenching on his cock while he thrusted deep inside you.

“I’m close.” You tell him, pushing your head into the mattress.

“Don’t fucking cum until I say so.” Rafe said.

He sped up, reaching for his own release.

“Cum with me.” He growls, his speed reducing as he cums inside of you.

You cry out, your long awaited orgasm washing over you like a tidal wave as you coat Rafe’s cock with your cum.

You might regret this tomorrow, but right now you didn’t have a care in the world.

[himasgod]

Hello!!! Please write a reader who is Lilia's adopted daughter. And she brings her boyfriend for the first time to meet him (It can be Leona, Jade, Azul, or anyone else you like) you can also insert the boys reaction, they are her brothers after all.

LEONA, JADE AND AZUL X READER

Where they are formally introduced to Lilia, your father, as your boyfriend

How would Leona, Jade, and Azul react if you brought them home to Lilia, your adoptive father, and Malleus, Silver, and Sebek as your "siblings," to be formally introduced as your boyfriends?

I had fun writing this I was pretty lazy so there are no long descriptions or anything, just a lot of dialogue. I hope you like it <3

“So let me get this straight…” Leona muttered, arms crossed and ears twitching with irritation,

“You’re telling me I’m about to have a formal sit-down with Lilia Vanrouge?”

You smiled, linking your fingers with his as you both approached the moss-covered arch that marked the beginning of Lilia’s garden. Hard to tell in Briar Valley.

“Yes. And be nice. You do know each other, but this time, it’s official.”

Leona huffed.

“Tch. Knew this day would come the moment I kissed you.”

Lilia waited for you on the porch of his quaint forest estate, wearing a deceptively sweet smile that even you knew meant mischief.

“Ah, there you are, little bat! And Leona Kingscholar, too, hmm?” he purred, eyes gleaming as he looked your boyfriend up and down.

Leona greeted him with a curt nod.

“Old man.”

Lilia clapped his hands together.

“Still so charming! You haven't changed a bit since NRC. I take it you're here to steal my daughter away, hmm?”

You elbowed Leona gently, but he only rolled his eyes and said

“Well, someone has to save her from your weird blood popsicle obsession.”

Lilia laughed. That bright, eerie laugh that echoed through the trees

“Fair point. Come in, come in.”

Sebek was the first to react.

“WHAT IS HE DOING HERE?!” he boomed, nearly knocking the table over. “He’s lazy, arrogant, and—AND—HE SLEEPS IN CLASS!”

“Sebek,” Lilia said calmly, sipping tea, “I slept through centuries and still managed to raise a well-mannered daughter, a son and a prince. Your argument is invalid.”

Silver, ever the neutral party, blinked slowly. “I always thought you two would end up together,” he said to you, tilting his head at Leona. “But I imagined someone who… gets up before noon.”

“Silver,” you said dryly, “this is not helping. Besides, you are not the one to talk-”

“Guess I’ve got something none of them have. Charm?”

“Or raw animal magnetism,” Lilia added helpfully.

You facepalmed.

Then Malleus entered the room.

The vibe shifted.

Leona sat up straighter instinctively.

“Ah, the second prince of the Sunset Savanna,” Malleus said, voice smooth but heavy. “We meet again. I understand you’re courting my dear sister?”

Leona narrowed his eyes slightly. “Yeah. Got a problem with that, Horns?”

“No,” Malleus said, and smiled slowly. “But should you break her heart, there might be consequences.”

A tiny bolt of lightning crackled behind him.

Leona blinked.

“…Duly noted.”

When everyone was gone, Lilia pulled you aside as the stars began to glow through the tree canopy.

“You really care about him, don’t you?” he asked softly, eyes not teasing anymore.

You nodded. “He’s… good to me, even when no one’s looking.”

Lilia was quiet for a moment. Then he gave you a fond smile, and gently flicked your forehead like he used to when you were little.

“Then that’s all that matters. But if he ever makes you cry—well, let’s just say I still remember a few curses that make hair fall out permanently.”

You grinned. “Thanks, Dad.”

“Are you sure about this?” Jade asked with a soft smile, his fingers gently brushing over yours as he held your hand. His tone was calm as ever—but you could feel the subtle tension in his grip.

“Of course,” you said, nudging him with your shoulder. “It’s not like you haven’t met them before.”

He chuckled, low and smooth.

“Yes, but this time, I’m no longer ‘just a student.’ I’m the man courting Lilia Vanrouge’s daughter. That… changes things.”

You smirked. “You’re nervous.”

Jade gave you a sidelong glance.

“I’d be a fool not to be.”

Lilia was already waiting at the table, sipping tea, dressed in something deceptively casual (yet enchanted enough to ward off curses, fire, and possibly suitors).

When Jade stepped in behind you, Lilia smiled wide.

Too wide.

“Jaaaade~! What a lovely surprise,” he said, sing-songy. “I didn’t realize we were hosting an eel today.”

Jade bowed slightly, lips curled in that signature polite-but-vaguely-threatening smile.

“Always a pleasure, Mr. Vanrouge. You have a lovely home.”

“Still trying to charm me?” Lilia asked playfully, resting his chin on his hands.

“Not at all. I’m simply being honest,” Jade replied smoothly.

You could feel the tension crackling like static between the two of them. You were about to speak when—

Sebek stomped in, sword at his side.

“WHAT IN THE GREAT NAME OF MALLEUS IS HE DOING HERE?!” he bellowed. “An eel? The brother of that... creature over Octavinelle? You dare present this to Lord Lilia as your consort?!”

You sighed. “Sebek. Calm down.”

Jade gave a small bow.

“I’m honored by your passion, Sir Sebek. I assure you, I’ve treated your "sister" with the utmost respect.”

“DO NOT ‘SEBEK’ ME! I'M ZIGVOLT FOR YOU”

Silver, half-asleep in the chair beside you, cracked an eye open. “...Didn’t he used to sneak mushrooms into Riddle’s tea?”

Jade smiled faintly. “For science.”

Then Malleus appeared. His eyes swept over Jade, calculating.

“You are... the Leech twin,” he said.

“Indeed,” Jade replied with a courteous nod. “And you are the Crown Prince of Briar Valley. A pleasure.”

They stared at each other. For a long, long time.

You held your breath.

Then Malleus gave a slow nod. “Should you break her heart, I will turn the coral into dust.”

Jade smiled, unshaken. “Then I shall simply have to ensure her heart stays whole.”

Once the chaos quieted and Sebek had stopped ranting in the background, Lilia pulled you aside with a sly grin.

“An eel, hmm?” he whispered. “Not the choice I expected, but... interesting.”

You raised a brow. “You hate him?”

Lilia hummed.

“No. He’s clever. I don’t trust him completely... but I do trust your judgment. Just be careful. He smiles like me, and you know how dangerous that can be.”

You grinned. “That’s why I like him.”

Lilia chuckled, fond and nostalgic. “You’re really growing up, little bat.”

Azul stood at the edge of the Vanrouge estate like a gentleman who wasn’t calculating every potential response in his mind. He carried himself as he always did—shoulders straight, coat perfectly tailored, his composure a shield no one dared pierce.

You stood beside him, warm and casual.

He would not embarrass you. He would not lose.

Lilia Vanrouge opened the door, ageless eyes alight with interest.

“Azul,” he said, smile sharp. “What a surprise. And here I thought I’d seen the last of NRC’s little loan shark.”

Azul inclined his head in a perfect bow.

“Good evening, Vanrouge. Thank you for welcoming me into your home. I’ve brought an offering.”

He handed over a bottle of rare merlot aged in abyssal coral—courtesy of the Lounge’s private vault.

Lilia raised a brow. “Careful. Gifts from businessmen often come with strings.”

Azul smiled.

“Only when the recipient is unaware. You, however, are far too old and clever for that.”

A flicker of amusement passed through Lilia’s gaze. “You do know how to flatter.”

“I know how to respect power,” Azul replied evenly. “And your daughter.”

He could feel your hand brush against his coat then—gentle, grounding. He allowed himself the smallest softening of his posture in response. Just enough to be human.

The rest of the family filtered in.

Sebek looked like he might explode.

“THE MERCHANT?! ARE YOU—?! HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND?! HE'S—HE'S A CROOK!”

Azul tilted his head coolly. “I assure you, all my transactions are legally binding.”

“That's the problem!” Sebek snarled.

Silver, relaxed, offered Azul a subtle nod. “You were always the quiet dangerous type. Honestly, I expected worse.”

Azul’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “How reassuring.”

Then came Malleus.

Azul stiffened—just barely. Enough to signal he knew the weight of this moment.

The air shifted as the he approached, slow and deliberate.

“You’re bold,” Malleus said, voice like rolling thunder. “Bringing intentions into my territory.”

Azul met his eyes. Steady. Calm.

“I didn’t come to posture. Only to be acknowledged.”

“You desire permission?”

Azul smiled thinly. “I already have her heart. Yours is merely… a formality.”

It was a dangerous thing to say. But Azul knew when to gamble.

A beat of silence. Malleus’s gaze narrowed—then moved to you.

“Does he treat you well?”

You nodded. “Better than I ever expected.”

Malleus didn’t look back at Azul. “Then I’ll allow it. For now.”

Later, Lilia poured himself a glass of that merlot, watching Azul with quiet scrutiny.

“You wear your nerves like armor,” he mused.

Azul didn’t flinch. “As one should. Vulnerability is expensive.”

“You love her?”

Azul didn’t hesitate. “I would remake the sea if she asked.”

Lilia tilted his glass toward him.

“Then I suppose I’ll keep my blade sheathed… unless you forget that promise.”

Azul met him, unblinking. “I never forget a deal.”

Lilia grinned. “Good. Because you’ve just made one with me.”

Azul only bowed his head, already planning what future dinners would look like.

[the-travelling-witch]

𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀 𝐋𝐈𝐏𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌

nonnie asked: lately i noticed many writers writing about reader kissing character's face while wearing lipstick and therefore covering them in it and i found it so cute and then started to imagine your om!ocs and the modern au guys (…) being covered in lipstick kisses too […]

pairings: my genshin modern au guys (xiao :: scara :: aether :: kazuha :: heizou :: venti :: childe :: diluc :: kaeya), my obey me ocs (dantalion :: valefar :: stolas), my twst oc (cheron) x gn! reader

warnings: these lipsticks are not smudge-proof

a/n: as said i might write a full thing for one character when i have the chance but considering i have 13 characters here and i can only think of so many scenarios, i’m writing a few paragraphs each for now ^^;

original ask

modern au || dantalion || valefar || stolas || cheron

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧 𝐌𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐧 𝐀𝐔

𝐗𝐈𝐀𝐎 Piercer/ Tattoo Artist

It had been a busy week in which you hadn’t seen much of each other, so when you finally made it to Friday evening, you were overjoyed to see your boyfriend again. Needless to say, when the door swung shut, the first thing you did was flutter some well-earned kisses across his face, not even bothering to take your make-up off.  So when Xiao spotted his reflection in the mirror, the flush on his cheeks wasn’t the only rose colour decorating his beautiful complexion. While you watched his blush darken, he couldn’t meet your eyes in the mirror and you giggled to yourself as you watched them snap to you when you pulled the neckline of his shirt out of the way and planted a final kiss on the base of his neck.

𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐀 Piercer/ Tattoo Artist

It was your day off, so for once you weren’t out of the house before Scara, instead getting ready at the same time as him. You made him his usual morning coffee to go after he slept over, since he straight up refused to drink anyone else’s, and kissed him goodbye. Not long after he arrived at the piercing studio, notifications started blowing up your phone and you skimmed the furious string of texts, laughing to yourself. Apparently, Xiao hadn’t said anything about the smudge on the corner of his lips, leaving Heizou and Venti to have a field day when they came in, teasing him relentlessly even after he wiped it off.  As for the accusation that you did it on purpose, who was to say…

𝐀𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 Piercer/ Tattoo Artist

“Do you still need the make up remover?” Aether asked from outside your bathroom door. You’d both just gotten back from an outing with the others from the piercing shop, staying longer than you initially intended. But that was what always happened. Venti could be very convincing and the group was too much fun to leave early. “I’m done, but I didn’t notice you wearing any makeup earlier,” you admitted, opening the door to let your boyfriend in.  “Well I wasn’t,” Aether sheepishly laughed, rubbing the base of his neck. And then you saw it. Faint traces of colour decorating his temple, cheek, the corner of his mouth and even the parts of his neck and chest not covered by his shirt. A shade that very closely resembled the lipstick you applied before going out. “You might be a bit of an affectionate drunk.” “Oh my— I’m so sorry, Aether,” you apologised, quickly searching around for some cotton pads and wiping the lipstick off his chest, trying not to linger on the thought too much. “Don’t worry, I thought it was cute,” he assured you, his warm smile seemingly lighting up the room. As you leaned in to clean his face, he took the opportunity to steal a quick kiss from you as well. “You should wear it more often, it looked very pretty on you.”

𝐊𝐀𝐙𝐔𝐇𝐀 Piercer/ Tattoo Artist

Kazuha had come over for lunch, as he often did, taking a break from his coworkers between the plants, sketching if the time allowed for it. When you both had to return to work, you pressed a sweet kiss against his cheek and then rushed to help a customer. And while neither one of you noticed the colour dusting his cheek, the others sure did and wasted no time pointing it out, though all their teasing comments seemed to bounce right off of him.  He wiped the stain away before any customers came in, laughing off how he hadn’t noticed at all. “Of course you wouldn’t notice,” Heizou agreed, a knowing air about him. “After all, you’re way too busy making heart eyes at your florist to even think about looking anywhere else for a second.”

𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐙𝐎𝐔 Piercer/ Tattoo Artist

“Hey honey, could you help me with something real quick?” You called your boyfriend over as you finished applying a new shade of lipstick you bought. As Heizou strolled up to where you were standing, you turned towards him with a smile. “What do you think? Do you like it?” “The colour looks beautiful on you,” he easily replied, sending you a flirtatious wink. “Though I’m not sure if it’s really the colour or just you being gorgeous that’s causing it. Now what did you need help with?” Wrapping one arm around his neck, you pulled him in for a kiss, making sure to firmly plant your lips against his. If your boyfriend was surprised at all, he masked it well, easily melting into the kiss. As you pulled away a little breathlessly, you grinned. “Just wanted to see if it’s really smudge-proof, though I guess it failed in that regard.” You traced a finger around the faint trace of colour on his lips as Heizou took the tube from you and applied the lipstick with pinpoint precision. Turning to you, his olive eyes were gleaming with mischief as he chuckled. “I think we should run a few more tests, just to be sure.”

𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈 Piercer/ Tattoo Artist

“This one’s for the song you wrote for me and this one’s for bringing me my favourite coffee without me asking,” you mused, studying your boyfriend’s face covered in pink-hued gloss marks. Somehow a kiss to the temple had ended with you caging Venti against the couch, fluttering a dozen kisses all over the skin you could reach. “Ehe, what can I say, I’m just the best boyfriend ever,” he giggled, tracing his fingers down the contours of your face in return. Then, something in his expression changed and you prepared yourself to shut down whatever idea he was about to propose next. “Maybe I should think about getting one of them tattooed? On my shoulder or so?” “Don’t you dare.”

𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐄 Idol

Ever since you had caught a lot of heat from Childe’s manager for accidentally letting your boyfriend leave with a mark decorating his collarbones, you were very cautious of leaving any visible stains on him, even if it was just makeup.  Still, you found ways to work around this little inconvenience. There was one time you signed off a little post-it note you left on the fridge for him, wishing him good luck for a performance, with a lipstick stain. After seeing his reaction of childish glee, it became a staple in your relationship. Then again, whenever Childe came home from work with his makeup still on, he never failed to press a big, fat, lip gloss stained kiss on your cheek, chuckling like the menace he is when you make a show of wiping it off.

𝐃𝐈𝐋𝐔𝐂 Club Owner/ Bartender

Diluc had seen his fair share of shameless make outs during his time at the Angel’s Share and normally he just turned his head the other way, not sure why people would enjoy slobbering all over each other. Well, that was until he met you anyway.  Though he’d like to think he was more composed than the intoxicated people at his club, whenever you pressed your lips against his, he thought he might get drunk off of you. He swallowed hard when you pulled away, mind still trying to process what was happening as his eyes tracked the movement of your own kiss-swollen lips, not hasty to wipe away the traces of you against his skin.

𝐊𝐀𝐄𝐘𝐀 Model

Kaeya actually revelled in it whenever you leave any type of mark on him, as long as it didn’t lead to a scolding from his manager. Whether it was something more durable like a hickey or something easily wiped off like a lipstick stain, Kaeya always looked very smug about it afterwards. After all, the marks were a testimony to the events that transpired previously, and what could he say, Kaeya enjoyed those very much. Even more so considering he knew his way around a makeup bag, confidently picking out shades that looked gorgeous on you and even more gorgeous when they were smudged around the corner of your lips and over his skin. In his opinion, every photo of the aftermath was more stunning than any of his cover shoots.

𝐎𝐛𝐞𝐲 𝐌𝐞! 𝐎𝐂𝐬

𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐎𝐍 Majolish Owner/ Devil Style Chief Editor

You walked in on Dantalion getting ready, his attention that was previously on his reflection in the vanity mirror flickering to you when you entered. His plush lips, curled into a loving smile, are painted in a flattering shade of red and your gaze was trained on them as you came to stand in front of him. “Are you trying a new shade? It suits you well.” “I am. I’m glad you like it,” he hummed, tilting his head in contemplation. “I wonder…” Cupping your cheek in his palm, the demon leaned towards you and you instinctively closed your eyes as his soft lips pressed against yours with purpose. As always his kisses made a part of your brain short circuit and you blinked at him dazedly for a moment after you parted. There was a satisfied gleam in his bright eyes as he wiped at your bottom lip with his thumb, studying the red stain he left. “As expected, it’s an even lovelier colour on you, my flower.”

𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐅𝐀𝐑 Casino Owner

“Little lamb, come here for a second.” Valefar was no stranger to finding your lipstick smudges at the rim of his drinks or wiping smudges of colour and gloss from his cheek before leaving for the casino after you gave him a kiss goodbye. He didn’t mind, found it cute even, but as he regarded the pink stain on the collar of his white dress shirt in the lounge’s mirror, he knew it won’t come off with a quick swipe of his thumb. It wasn’t a big deal, he kept spare shirts in his office, but Val wouldn’t pass on the opportunity to fluster you. “Care to explain yourself?” You were halfway through stuttering out a sheepish apology when Valefar backed you against his desk, keeping you pinned to him with a hand on your back. Intense amber eyes keep contact with yours as he leaned down to suck a noticeable hickey on the same spot his collar would be, knowing your clothes barely wouldn’t be able to hide it. “Debts should be repaid, wouldn’t you agree?”

𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐒 Popular Streamer

It was a pleasant day in the Devildom, as pleasant as it could be in a realm without the sun anyway, pulling the two of you out into town. While strolling from apparel stores to gaming shops, you passed a café you frequented and decided to stop by for some refreshments. As you pointed around various shop displays, you had the sinking feeling that your drink emptied faster than usual. And when you spotted the colourful stain that had transferred from your straw to your boyfriend’s lips, you caught the culprit red- handed (or rather red-lipped). When confronted he merely chuckled playfully before swooping in to steal a kiss on top of your drink, staining them with more of your lipstick and thereby destroying the evidence. (His straw also became more colourful as he offered you his drink as compensation.)

𝐓𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐖𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐎𝐂

𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐎𝐍 Prince of Hell

When Vil gifted you a set of lipsticks and glosses from a campaign he was part of and had no need for, you accepted them gratefully. You just finished sorting through all the shades and trying out a pretty shade of red, when there was a knock on your door and Cheron sauntered into your room.  “There you are,” he grinned, charming without even having to try, before pulling you close and stealing the air from your lungs with a kiss. For someone who claimed to not be interested in ferrying more souls to hell, he sure seemed intent on trying to kill you. “What’s this you got there? Vil’s new collab?” “Right you are,” you paused, peering around him to the lipstick tube in your hand and chuckling as you read the shade name. Pressing another kiss right onto the middle of his cheek as payback for his usual schemes, you took in the red matching the colour on the corner of his lips. “Don’t you think it’s a beautiful colour, Cherry? It does match your hair and eyes. Maybe I should start calling you that.” There was a dangerous glint in his crimson eyes, clearly aware of the red staining his face, as he swiped his thumb under your bottom lip where the lipstick left a smudge as well.  “You have a lot of nerve marking the Prince of Hell.” His grin showed off the points of his fangs more clearly now, clearly amused at your little stunt, taking a step forward and walking you backwards towards the edge of your bed. “That’s fine. If you can handle the consequences, that is.”

© the-travelling-witch 2024 - do not repost, translate, copy or edit; do not feed my writing to an ai

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[navybrat817]

Sergeant Snuggles

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: Bucky wants you to get some much needed rest. Word Count: Over 1.6k Warnings: Fluff, swearing, humor, reader is tired, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning and the best boyfriend, okay?). A/N: I'm tired. I want Bucky to fix my schedule. Again! ❤️Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You should’ve taken the afternoon off. You knew that. There was no reason for you to remain in the building beyond your earlier debriefing. The mission you completed was successful, but you hardly slept over the last few days because of it. Describing yourself as tired was an understatement.

But you had a tendency to stretch yourself thin at times and were stubborn, a trait Bucky both loved and fought you on.

The beautiful brunette you were lucky enough to call your boyfriend leaned over in his chair as you stifled a yawn. “That’s the fifth time you’ve done that in the last two minutes,” he whispered low enough to not draw attention.

“Glad you’re keeping count,” you whispered back, feeling his steel eyes linger on you as before he turned his focus back to Steve. At least he didn’t say he told you so after you turned down his suggestion this morning to call in.

You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, the stubble on his strong jawline catching your attention. He hadn’t shaved in a few days. Hardly slept either. Still looked gorgeous.

How was that fair?

“Just take a break,” he urged, tucking a strand of his long hair behind his ear. “It’ll help.”

“No, I’m fine,” you argued, picking up your drink and downing the rest of it, as if it would give you a boost. “We have a busy day. I don’t have time to use one of the pods.”

S.H.I.E.L.D. had recently built a lounge area for agents to rest and recoup during the day and between missions. Some of the pods were large enough for two people to rest comfortably together. Why not cuddle with your soldier for a short time? As nice as it sounded, you had to get through a few more hours of work.

“I love you, but you’re about two seconds away from putting your head on the table,” Bucky whispered, your heart skipping a beat. It did that whenever he professed his love for you. But you were also feeling a bit grouchy, even though he was only trying to help

“And I love you, but I’m about two seconds away from flipping this table,” you hissed before Steve cleared his throat. “Sorry,” you added sheepishly. It wasn’t his fault the mission cost you precious sleep.

The blonde’s brow furrowed. Like Bucky, he knew you pushed yourself too hard some days. You had to though. You weren't a super soldier like they were. “It’s okay,” he said before he continued.

Exhaustion veiled your normally bright and attentive gaze. The Captain had a commanding presence, yet your eyelids drooped as he kept talking. You weren’t sure if you were able to fall asleep sitting up and you didn’t want to find out. With a shake of your head, you had to try and fight the waves of drowsiness that crashed in your mind and washed over your body.

It was a losing battle. You used to laugh at memes that talked about meetings that could’ve been done in an email, but it didn’t seem so humorous now that you were living it. Why didn't you just stay home?

You jolted when your boyfriend suddenly placed his hand on your thigh and you wished you could say you blamed it on his touch. “What? What happened?” You asked. Did you fall asleep or just zone out?

“The meeting’s over,” he replied, nodding to the now empty room. You hadn’t seen anyone walk out. That wasn’t good.

“Shit.” You rubbed your temple, an ache building in your head. You’d have to apologize to Steve later because there was no way you retained anything he stated. “What time is it?”

Bucky checked his watch with a slight frown. “It’s 10:55.”

Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck that.

“Yeah.” Bucky’s lip twitched in a smile when you realized you said that out loud. “Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck that.”

You huffed, your head cloudy again before you slumped in your chair. There was no way you’d make it through the day, as much as you wanted to try. You were useless in this condition. “Okay. I may need a nap,” you admitted.

He smiled softly as he pushed his chair back and held out his hand. “I had a feeling. That’s why I booked us one of the pods before we got here,” he said. It shouldn't have come as a surprise. He knew you better than you knew yourself. “Let's go.”

You pouted, but took his outstretched hand. “Are you sure I can't just try and suck it up?” You asked, covering your mouth with your other hand when you yawned yet again. “There’s still work to do.”

“And you're not going to finish it right this second,” he stated firmly, the drop in his voice making your throat go dry. He meant business when he used that tone. “You're going to let everyone else handle it, and they can handle it, and you are going to get some rest.”

You loved this man for putting up with and caring for you. “Yes, Sergeant, but I still don't want a nap,” you grumbled, wondering just how whiny you sounded.

He chuckled, the sound making you giggle. It was infectious. “Just twenty minutes. It’s all I'm asking for to start. You worked hard and deserve a nap,” he said, sneaking a soft kiss in when you pouted again. “If you won’t do it for yourself, do it for me? Please?”

Something vulnerable flashed in his eyes before he blinked it away. Nightmares still plagued him and you discovered that he rested easier with you beside him. Your presence didn’t always chase the horrors away, but it helped. Maybe he needed this nap just as much as you did.

What kind of partner would you be if you didn't help?

“Okay, Bucko. For you,” you smiled, leaning into his side as he guided you down the hall. You’d do anything for him. “You know, my caffeine let me down,” you added.

“I know, baby.”

“It’s a betrayal. It was supposed to stimulate me,” you mumbled.

“I know, baby,” he said again, going along with your tired rambling. “But we both know I stimulate better than that ever could.”

“Yeah, you do,” you smiled. He was very good at that. “And this is a good excuse for us to cuddle.”

“As long as you get some sleep, you can have all the cuddles you want,” he promised.

A tired smile touched your lips. “I should call you Sergeant Snuggles.”

It was at that moment that Sam walked by, the smirk on his face telling you that he at least caught the nickname you just came up with. Your gaze flickered to Bucky’s profile, catching the clench in his jaw as he stared at his colleague and friend. It was a sexy look, but now wasn’t the time to think about that. And Sam, the good man he was, didn't say a word. He nodded and went on his way.

Which likely meant he pocketed the nickname to bring up at a later time.

“Sorry,” you whispered, hoping you hadn’t embarrassed him.

Fondness took over Bucky's blue eyes when he swung his gaze back toward you. “Don't be sorry. You can call me whatever you want,” he assured you, taking you into the longue.

The low light created a peaceful atmosphere and you found yourself longing for relaxation as Bucky brought you to the pod furthest in the corner. He helped you in before he climbed in beside you, his massive frame making you feel safe and warm as he held you against him. His fingers moved along your back in a slow and soothing pattern and your breathing began to match his after a minute. It made it easy for your eyes to slip shut.

You still couldn’t believe that you had someone in your life like Bucky. The man did everything in his power to put your needs first and make sure he took care of you. Not because he didn’t think you were strong or capable enough to do so yourself, but because he recognized that you didn’t have to do everything alone. That was why he was your partner.

In work, in love, and in life.

“Thanks, Bucky,” you sighed, wishing you were awake enough to say how much you appreciated him. “Sorry for whining and bitching and being stubborn.”

“You don’t need to thank me and you didn’t whine or bitch. I’ll give you stubborn though,” he said, casually tossing a leg over you before you could move away. If you asked it of him, he’d lay on top of you like a blanket. “Just get some sleep and don’t push yourself today, please. I’ll feel a lot better if you relax.”

You’d feel a lot better, too. “One more question and I will.”

He hummed as he waited for you to speak.

“What's the policy on sex in the pods?” You asked, resting a hand on his chest and feeling his heart start to race. “For future us, for the record. I love you, but we’re not trying somnophilia here today.”

He exhaled a laugh against your forehead before he kissed it, warmth spreading like a balm through your head. “I love you, too,” he whispered. Dragging his lips down to yours. “And I’m sure we can find a way to make it work, but not until you rest, okay? Need you at one hundred percent for that.”

“Yes, Sergeant Snuggles,” you replied, feeling him hold you a little tighter before you finally got some much needed sleep.

I hope this reads well. 🤣 I'm le tired. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[wolvietxt]

𝓵ate 𝓷ight laundromat.

pairing : frank castle x fem!reader warnings : petnames, fluff, kinda open ended summary : you and frank keep running into each other at the 24-hour laundromat in your apartment complex. he’s always there at odd hours, folding his black t-shirts and watching you over the rim of his coffee cup. wc : 2.0k a/n : take a shot every time i mention the coffee cup ALSO i wanna write a part two for this :3

you’ve lived in the same apartment complex for almost a year now, but it wasn’t until the past couple of weeks that you started noticing frank. the first time you bumped into him was in the 24-hour laundromat in the basement, the one you’d barely ever given much thought to. you were there late one night after work, lugging a bag of laundry that felt ten times heavier than it should have. the laundromat, tucked away in the corner of the building, was empty except for a guy hunched over his laundry. his black t-shirts were neatly folded in a pile beside him, and his movements were methodical - almost precise. he didn’t notice you at first. you just slid your quarters into the machine, quietly setting your basket down, your eyes drifting over to him.

when he finally looked up, his eyes caught yours for a second - brief but intense - before he quickly went back to folding, like he wasn’t sure what to do with the moment. it wasn’t uncomfortable. in fact, it made your heart flutter a little. maybe it was the way his dark, messy hair framed his face or the simple fact that he was actually doing something productive at 2 a.m. while the rest of the world slept.  

you didn’t really know what to say. you weren’t even sure if he was the type of guy who liked to chat in a laundromat of all places, so you kept to yourself. the only noise between you two was the soft hum of the dryers, the occasional clink of coins, and the rustling of fabric. you glanced at him again when you tossed your clothes in, and this time, he seemed to notice, because he met your gaze for a longer moment before offering a small nod.  

"hey," he said gruffly, his voice low. “you, uh, come here a lot?”  

you blinked, caught off guard by the question. you hadn’t expected him to talk, especially not first.  

"yeah," you said, smiling a little awkwardly. "guess i’m a bit of a night owl."  

he smirked at that, the corners of his mouth turning up just enough to make his rough demeanor seem less intimidating. “me too.”  

from that point on, you saw him regularly. every time you found yourself at the laundromat at odd hours, he seemed to be there too. it was as if your schedules had aligned by some strange cosmic coincidence, and while it was a little strange at first, you started to look forward to it. you’d do your laundry, he’d do his, and once in a while, when the machines were humming their last spin, he’d take a sip from his coffee mug, glancing up at you over the rim.  

the two of you didn’t talk much at first, but the little moments began to add up. one night, when your dryer stopped halfway through its cycle, you found yourself holding a basket of wet clothes, unsure what to do. frank must’ve seen the look of slight panic on your face because he got up, moved over to your dryer, and with a soft grunt, nudged the start button for you.  

“thanks,” you muttered, surprised at how easily he moved around you.  

“no problem, sweetheart,” he said, a quiet chuckle escaping him.  

you blinked at that. sweetheart?  

he didn’t seem to notice your surprise, too busy folding his t-shirts with the kind of focus that made it clear he was used to being alone during these late-night laundromat sessions.  

after that, frank would occasionally drop in a petname - sweetheart, sugar - nothing that felt overly intimate, but enough to make you feel a little warmer every time he said it. and you found yourself wanting to hear it more.  

you were always busy in the mornings, so the nights became the only time you felt like you had any real freedom, and you found yourself thinking about him more and more. how quiet he was. how kind he seemed underneath that gruff exterior.  

there was one night - late as always - that you walked into the laundromat, tired from your shift, only to find frank already there, as usual. he was sipping coffee, and his gaze lifted just enough to meet yours when you stepped inside.  

“late night, huh?” he said with a slight nod, his voice warm in the cool, quiet space.  

“yeah,” you replied, walking over to the machines. “never seems to stop, does it?”  

“nope,” he said, his lips curling into that soft, barely-there smile that you were starting to look forward to. “but i don’t mind. keeps things interesting.”  

and as you loaded your clothes into the machine, you realized you didn’t mind either. there was something oddly comforting about the routine of it all. seeing frank at these weird hours, sharing these quiet, small moments with him.  

you smiled to yourself, feeling a little lighter. a little less alone.  

the following weeks blurred together in a rhythm that felt surprisingly comforting. your late-night laundromat rendezvous with frank had become more than just coincidence; they’d become part of your routine. at first, you only exchanged small words and quiet glances, but something about the way frank looked at you - how his gaze softened over the rim of his coffee cup - made you want to stay just a little longer each time.  

you couldn’t explain it. you didn’t even know him all that well, but there was something undeniably magnetic about his presence. it wasn’t just his quiet confidence or the way he folded his shirts so meticulously. it was how he paid attention to you in a way that no one else did. it was the small, subtle things - the way he always made sure you were okay with the machines, the way he’d hold the door open for you without making a fuss about it.  

and you started noticing the little things about him too. how he always wore those faded band shirts that looked as if they’d been washed a hundred times, how his dark hair fell in messy waves that seemed like they were made to be ruffled. that was, until he buzzed it again. you started to realize that you weren’t just looking forward to the laundry, you were looking forward to seeing frank.  

it wasn’t long before you started finding excuses to stay later than you normally would, letting your clothes dry just a little longer, lingering in the laundromat for an extra few minutes just to be in the same space as him. frank never pushed you, though. he was the same calm, collected guy he’d always been - quiet but not distant, a little reserved but never cold.  

one night, after a particularly busy day, you found yourself at the laundromat again. the room was empty except for the usual hum of machines and the low buzz of fluorescent lights. frank was sitting at the small table by the window, his coffee mug in front of him, but this time he wasn’t folding his shirts. instead, his eyes were trained on you, watching you as you loaded your clothes into the dryer.  

you felt his gaze on you, but you didn’t mind it this time. it wasn’t awkward. it felt... familiar.  

“you doing okay?” he asked, breaking the silence, his voice soft but carrying an edge of concern you hadn’t expected.  

you paused, turning to face him, your fingers still hovering over the detergent bottle. “yeah, just a long day. i’m glad i have this to look forward to.”  

frank’s lips twitched up into a small, almost shy smile at that. “i’m glad too, sweetheart.”  

you didn’t think anything of it at first - just the usual friendly banter. but when you sat down at the table across from him, the air between you two seemed to shift, just slightly. it was subtle, but you could feel it.  

“you ever get tired of it?” you asked suddenly, your voice quieter than you meant it to be. “the routine, i mean. coming here every night, doing the same thing.”  

he thought about it for a moment, his brow furrowing slightly as he stared down into his coffee cup. “nah,” he finally said, his voice low but steady. “it’s the little things that keep me going, i guess. even if it’s just... this.”  

you blinked, not sure if he was talking about you or just the laundromat itself, but either way, it made something warm stir inside you. you found yourself staring at him for a little too long, the silence growing comfortable, even welcome.  

“yeah, i get that,” you murmured, feeling the warmth of the moment spread through you. “me too.”  

there was something so effortless about your time together, like the world outside the laundromat didn’t matter as long as you were both there. but that night, you could sense the shift - the way frank wasn’t just going through the motions of laundry anymore. there was a quiet anticipation in the air, a flicker of something unspoken.  

the machines buzzed again, signaling that your cycle was done. you stood up to retrieve your clothes, and frank followed suit, gathering his things with slow, deliberate movements. when you moved to head for the dryer, you bumped into him by accident.  

“oops,” you muttered, stepping back, your heart racing just a little.  

“you good, sweetheart?” frank asked, his voice softer than usual, eyes now scanning your face with a curiosity that made your stomach flutter.  

“yeah,” you said quickly, brushing a lock of hair from your face. “just, uh, tired, i guess.”  

he didn’t say anything right away, but there was something in the way he studied you now - like he was deciding whether to say something more, something real. and then, after a long pause, he spoke, his voice a little unsure but still steady.  

“you ever... wanna get out of here?” he asked, the words coming out slower than he probably intended. his dark eyes were searching yours, and for the first time, you could see the vulnerability there, just beneath the surface. “i mean... not here. not the laundromat. somewhere... different. with me.”  

your heart skipped a beat. was he asking what you thought he was asking?  

you smiled, warmth flooding your chest. “yeah, i’d like that.”  

“good,” he said, looking slightly relieved, though the tension hadn’t quite left his shoulders. he ran a hand through his hair, glancing at you with that same gentle look. “it’s a date then. i’ll, uh, figure it out.”  

you nodded, feeling the weight of the moment settle between you two, like a promise. for the first time, frank looked less like the mysterious guy you saw in the laundromat and more like someone you might want to know better. maybe this routine, these late-night runs, were just the beginning. 

ᰔ frank castle : @stvr-dust, @uncertified-doc, @erospecies

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[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

Ludos Imperiales 12

A/N: Me posting on schedule for once?? And finally adding a Cassian moment??

Content Warning: Descriptions of Injuries, Mentions of Blood/Torture/Slavery

Previous Chapter/Masterlist

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

Cassian’s sitting up when I return in the late afternoon the next morning with enough mirthroot to get half the city high, his eyes bloodshot, rimmed with circles so dark I’m not convinced they aren’t bruises. 

“You haven’t slept,” I say by way of greeting. 

A shadow of stubble already crawls across his dirt streaked face, as if time is passing faster for him than for the others. Azriel’s wounds are the worst. They’d taken that flagrum to his already broken wings and I’m shit out of luck with how to treat such delicate limbs. I’d bandaged them best I could last night, and have come back this morning with enough coin to bribe the Arena’s healer into doing what I can’t, the least I can do is ease the other’s pain while they wait for their turn to be properly looked at. 

Cassian’s gaze drags to me like his eyes are made of lead. He’d let me touch his wings last night out of necessity, the bandages I’d set in place barely clinging on now. Sometime in the last couple of hours he’d managed to crawl into an upright position so he could watch the door, a fresh wave of blood dribbling down his sides to form a small puddle in the mud beneath him. “‘M fine.”

I approach slowly. He hadn’t said a word other than “fuck me” from the pressure of the bandages last night, had just gritted his teeth and accepted that I was the only one coming to help ensure he kept his wings. It was abundantly clear he’d allowed it out of necessity. Now that he can hear the healer making a fuss in Azriel’s cell, I’m unsure how necessary he’ll think I am.

“I brought something to help with the pain,” I say as I kneel in front of him. 

He watches me like I’m a snake coiled to strike. “Give it to Az.”

I place a worn leather satchel between us, the lip falling away to reveal a bottle of temetum and the multiple packs of mirthroot I’d acquired. His hazel eyes flick briefly to the bottle of undiluted wine before coming back to me. A move that would have been harder to track if he wasn’t so exhausted.

“I’ve got plenty to share. Take your pick.”

“Wine would be nice, I guess.”

At least he’s speaking to me. I uncork the bottle and hold it out to him. Finding cups was too time consuming, I’d figured they’d need a lot anyway, the three of them could easily finish off the bottle. 

He tries to take it, arm muscles so tight they’re shaking, but he can’t lift his arm very high off the floor before his face twists in pain. The whip had torn through both his wings and his back, it must have hit muscle somewhere. 

I move despite my better judgement, a hand on his bicep to steady him as he bites down on his lip to keep quiet. “Shit, here, let me help you.” I bring the bottle to his lips and tip it back, letting the crimson colored liquid slip slowly over the top.

I’ve never been more aware of him. The underlying scent of snow-chilled wind and crackling embers, heavy even under the coppery scent of blood and sweat clinging to his skin. The sheer size of him, every bit of him hard and sculpted for battle. I knew it; I’d seen it in action, but I was practically in his lap, watching every swallow he took as he drank the wine down like it might be his last chance at tasting it, and I realized I’d never been so close.

When I pull the bottle away from his cracked lips to let him catch his breath, his head falls forward just enough that for the briefest of moments, our foreheads touch. A breath shakes out of him, labored and heavy, and pained. 

Instinctively, the hand not holding the bottle reaches up to push a loose strand of sweat slicked hair off his cheek, where it falls in his eyes. His stubble is rough against the smooth skin of my palm, my fingertips gently tracing the swell of his cheek as I tuck it behind his ear. He doesn’t protest my touch like I expect him to.

“Thank you,” he whispers before pulling away. 

I want more. Damn me! Now that I’ve had a taste I can’t stop myself from wanting to trace more of him with my fingertips. I want to feel those damaged lips on mine, chasing the taste of wine away with my tongue. 

I lean back on my heels instead. “Do you want the mirthroot?”

Azriel screams from his cell, reality chasing away any lingering fantasies about what we can do down here. The bond echoes with his pain as the Healer calls for the Guard to help hold Azriel down so he can work. 

“Go help him,” Cassian says instead. “Please.”

Having them all in one place would make this so much easier, but I doubt we’ll ever be that lucky again. The odds are leaning towards individual matches in the future, I doubt the Emperor will ever let the mistake of letting them save each other happen again. 

Azriel’s screaming is getting more intense by the second and Cassian looks like he might try to stand and go to him if I don’t, so I make quick work of shouldering my way into Azriel’s quickly crowding cell. Two Guards have come to hold him down by the shoulders; his thrashing has knocked off most of the bandages I’d placed last night, blood flowing freely from the tattered membrane. His wings look like an old, tattered piece of cloth.

Between the three males, they’ve managed to get Azriel off the floor and onto the iron bunk welded to the wall, but the movement must have been excruciating because there’s a fresh puddle of vomit on the floor. I have to skirt around it to crouch in front of Az, where his chin sits against the edge of the bunk. 

I take his face in my hands. “Look at me.” His skin is hot to the touch, sweat dripping down his forehead as his body tries to fight off an infection.

He drags his eyes open, scarred hands fumbling to take hold of my wrists. “Make it stop. Make them stop.” He begs.

My heart clenches painfully tight in my chest. “They’re going to help you.”

His grip on my wrists is a vice as he tries to shake his head, the chain around his throat rattling. It has effectively cut him off from his shadows, the little creatures nowhere to be found now. The loss of their ever constant presence must feel like losing a limb. “Don’t let them take my wings!”

The fever’s making him delirious, but his panic is very much a real, thrashing thing down the bond. “They’re not going to take your wings, I promise.”

“I need to get to work-” the Healer starts.

“Shut up,” I hiss. “You didn’t even try to give him something for the pain first!” A bit of my darkness seeps out of my heels, hissing along the floor like their appearance might make up for my mate’s lack of shadows. 

The cell trembles around us, dust raining down from the ceiling. I don’t try to reign it in this time. The Guard will tell the Emperor about this, and I will tell him it’s all part of my plan. 

With some bullying of the guard I get my hands on some hot rocks in order to diffuse some of the mirthroot faster, letting the vapor rise like incense off the edge of the bunk. The smoke clouds the area around Azriel’s head, the high almost immediate. His hazel eyes glaze over, body relaxing as he slumps on the bunk.

I drift my fingers through his hair. “You’re going to be ok.” This is not the time to cry. The amount of things shooting down my bond with all three of them is a lot when they’re in this state, it’s taking everything I have to keep my own emotions in check, to not be swept away in the tidal wave of pain and fear that threatens to drag me under. 

I give myself a little shake. I have to be strong for them. “The Healer will help.”

Azriel groans, scarred hand reaching up to brush absent patterns along my wrist. “Hurts,” he slurs against the effects of the mirthroot.

“I know. It’ll be over soon.” I motion the Healer back over with my chin and the male has the good sense to look a little hesitant in getting so close to me.

I reign my darkness back in, little by little until it’s gone. The Guards share a look and I know this will get back to my Father eventually. I’ll have to be clever in my explanation; better yet, I should save myself the headache and go over to the Palace once I’m done here. It’ll keep me ahead, let me spin the narrative in a way that doesn’t make me look so bad in his eyes.

The Healer starts working and I instinctively intertwine my fingers with my mate, letting him squeeze as hard as he needs as the male starts dripping oils down his raw back. When Azriel whimpers in pain again, I set more mirthroot over the hot rocks. Everyone in the cell’s going to be high as hell by the time it’s all said and done, but it keeps Azriel from screaming, his breathing even as he drifts in and out of consciousness. 

Even as he starts to doze off, he doesn’t let go of my hand, his grip still firm and steady. I use my free hand to trace the grooves and ridges of his scars, the pattern like a map of valleys and hills. I wonder if he can even feel my touch, or if his nerves are permanently fried. I’d never thought to ask.

“Such delicate things, wings,” the Healer muses as he works. “You’d think something meant to carry a body this large would be less fragile.”

I tear my gaze away from Azriel’s hands to glare at him. “You will save them.” There is no room for debate here. 

The Healer rolls his eyes at me. “Sound like your Father.”

“Then you know what’s at stake if you mess this up,” I hiss in return. I won’t let the sting of the insult land. If that’s the monster I have to make myself out to be to ensure they are healed, so be it. There is no depth in Hel I won’t descend to to ensure their survival.

Azriel’s fully dozing now, his breathing even, body relaxed. I genuinely don’t know how he has the strength to still be holding my hand. 

The Guards leave when they see they’re not needed, I can hear them tormenting the other gladiators down the hall. 

The Healer makes slow work, between weaving strands of glittering magic along the frayed ends of Azriel’s wings and applying oils and antiseptics and bandages afterwards. Time becomes a steady unfurling of white bandages and blood. I keep myself busy by combing the knots out of my mate’s hair with my fingers; anything I can to ensure he knows, even in sleep that I’m here. I wish I could do more.

The Healer’s eyes are rimmed with dark circles by the time he’s done, the strain of that much magic clearly taking a toll. 

White bandages cover every inch of Azriel’s wings, and there’s more along his back, sticky from the oils. There’s not enough skin left to be stitched back together, the wounds will have to be cleaned and dressed over and over until they can heal on their own. A thought that makes me shutter. They need to be somewhere clean to avoid infection at all costs. It’ll be months before they’re able to fight again. Months before they’re able to be up and moving at all. And I know that it’s months we don’t have. 

I have to find a way to buy them time.

I toss the Healer the first round of coin. He’ll get the full amount once he’s done with each of them, to ensure he’ll properly comply with my many demands. I’m going to need a lot more to bribe him to do this daily if I can’t find a way to get them back to the River House. 

“This is a whole lot of work for a couple of slaves,” the Healer grumbles. 

It takes everything in me not to blow the roof off the place. 

---

Joining my Father for dinner is surely a mistake, but I don’t see what other choice I have. Besides, it’s not like I can go home. Not without being drugged again. 

The Emperor lounges on plush pillows, propped up by scantly dressed servants and fanned with palm fronds by others. There’s a feast large enough to feed the city spread out before them, barely touched as he focuses all his attention on a plate of roasted chicken and a never ending supply of wine. 

My cousins join him today, on his left, reclining against each other. Brannagh eyes me with enough contempt to remind me that the last we’d spoken directly, I’d accused her of sleeping with Dagdan. The fact that his throat is littered with hickeys does nothing to prove me wrong. 

Amarantha arrives after we’ve started, huffing an excuse about dealing with a prison riot.

The five of us make a sorry excuse for company. Dagdan won’t stop rambling one nonsense story after the other, most of which annoy Amarantha so badly she has no choice but to dispute his claims. There’s little room for the rest of us to get a word in.

I have not missed these. 

The food sits heavy in my stomach; all I can think about is how I had to bribe the Guard to ensure my mates even got a meal, should they wake up to eat it after the amount of mirthroot it took to get them comfortable. Rhys had finished off the bottle of wine before the Healer was done. 

“I tell you the male ripped the beast a part with his bare hands!” Dagdan finishes. I don’t know what the rest of the story was, I’d tuned him out, filling the noise in my skull with my second wine glass of the evening. 

The Emperor seemed surprised by my visit, but he hasn’t said a word about it yet, despite the way those slate gray eyes watch my every move.

“I can assure you, he didn’t,” Amarantha counters. “Leon has got to be the worst Gladiator Beron has ever produced in those grimy little Pits he runs in Autumn.”

“You haven’t been to those Pits in some time,” Dagdan refutes. “They are much better run than they used to be.”

“You sink too much money into false hopes, boy,” the Emperor chastises, but his gaze remains fixed on me when he speaks. 

“None as much as my dear cousin,” Dagdan sneers. 

“I’m sure you’ve nearly drained your purse on those brutes by now,” Brannagh says with a laugh.

Amarantha eyes me curiously. 

“My purse is fine,” I say dismissively, hoping to end this conversation here and now.

“How are your little pets?” Amarantha presses. 

I absently stab at a piece of roasted vegetable. Telling her their actual condition might leave room for her to try and do something to them; lying might send someone down to confirm my story. “Recovering,” I say, trying to find a middle ground between the two. “I’ll be lucky if the Shadowsinger can fly after this.”

“Wouldn’t have happened if he hadn’t cheated,” Father says as one of his serving girls wipes a bit of wine out of his greying beard.

“It’s going to cost me a lot to fix, is all,” I say, using the excuse of biting my food to hide the way my jaw tenses. 

“I heard you were down there with them this morning,” he inquires.

Amarantha places her elbows on the table as she leans forward like she might miss this new bit of gossip.

Beside me, Dagdan frowns about being forgotten so quickly.

“I was.” I take another sip of wine to hide how dry my mouth suddenly feels. “It was fairly easy in the state they were in to convince them I had defied you to see them. I’d say their trust in me is fully cemented. They’ll start telling me things soon enough.”

“I want to know what Rhysand had planned after taking Illyria from me,” the Emperor says. It’s by far the closest he’s ever come to trusting me with political matters. “Surely he couldn’t have intended to push us out of the territory alone. His fighting men are strong, but it’s not enough of an army. He had to have been planning on aid from somewhere.”

I nod as I chew on another bite of food, pretending to think it over.

“His men have revealed nothing,” Amarantha sighs as she stabs at her plate with more force than necessary. “We’ve had to get creative with our methods to get them to talk and even under duress their… loyalty,” she spits out the word like its poison, “has won out.”

My chest constricts. Were the crucifixions not creative enough? Was making them walk here, chained and naked and beaten from Illyria not enough? We were torturing them now too?

“I can always put my talents to use,” Brannagh offers, tapping a manicured nail against her forehead. 

“Maybe they don’t know,” I offer. “Rhysand is secretive, allusive even to me. Maybe he held that card close to the vest for their protection.” I don’t like putting him directly in the line of fire, but I know what he would do if he was here, what he would offer to keep Brannagh’s hands off his men. All of them would offer themselves as a target to keep them safe. I can act for them in this.

“Give me a few more days, let me see what I can get out of him before you resort to that.”

“Awfully protective of these Illyrians, aren’t we?” Amarantha accuses.

“I’m merely thinking of the losses,” I counter. 

What was it my Father had always said? “A slave is more expensive to replace than to keep alive.”

To which the male raises his cup in salute before downing it in one gulp. The wine is quickly refilled.

“For once you were paying attention,” he praises.

The food sits heavier in my stomach. For so long that was all I’d ever wanted, for him to be proud of me, for him to see that I was trying my hardest to be the daughter he needed to me. I’d craved the faintest scrap of his attention for so long it had nearly destroyed me. To hear it now, to see what I would have had to become to earn it…

This whole Empire is a poison. It ruins everything it touches. 

“Brannagh, Dagdan, you may leave us.”

The twins look surprised by the sudden shift in conversation. Surely they thought they were going to be given an opportunity.

“But-”

He waves a hand at them. “We have matters to discuss that don’t concern you. Go. I’ll send for you if I need you.”

Brannagh grits her teeth as she stands, her eyes, the same shade as my Father’s narrowed in on me as if this is my fault. I supposed, in my absence, she’s gotten used to standing in my place, to being recognized. With me here now, there’s not as much room. The admiration of the Empire can only hold so many people. I fear I’ve made a bigger enemy out of her than I meant to.

Dagdan’s mouth opens and closes like he might say something, then thinks better of it. After his drunken outburst yesterday he knows he doesn’t have the sway he needs to be here.

They leave with their arms linked together, like the weight of the dismissal is too much for them to carry alone.

The glare Brannagh throws over her shoulder as the doors start to close tells me I need to be aware of just how many enemies I’m making these days.

“I need to make sure you are prepared for this task you’ve set out to do,” Father says once they’re gone.

My heart stutters in my chest. “What do you mean?”

“This information will not just come to you, if you intend to appeal to this bond they think they have with you and get the information we need, you need to make some… adjustments.”

Amarantha watches me over the rim of her glass.

“What are you suggesting?”

“Torture clearly won’t work,” he explains. “And it would ruin this trust they have in you. You need to be more persuasive in your approach, I think.”

“The faster we have results, the easier to deal with this mess will be,” Amarantha adds.

“And you’re in a… unique position.”

I don’t rub my temples like I want to. “Speak plainly, please.”

“Seduce them.”

I accidentally drop my fork, the clang of it hitting the plate deafening in the wide space.

“It's what they want from you anyway, what a mating bond demands happen. If you can convince them that you’re as desperate to be with them as they are you, they’ll tell you more readily. More secrets have been spilled in bed chambers than in temples.”

“Plenty of sponsors reap the benefits of their champions anyway, it would not be out of the norm,” Amarantha shrugs.

Bile rises in my throat. “Aren’t you still in the process of marrying me off?” 

“Romulus is intrigued by you, but he will not ask for your hand while you are tied to them. You ruined that chance.” He takes another long drink of wine, clearly displeased with that fact. “Tamlin and Eris are still competing, but what they don’t know won’t hurt them.”

I take another long drink of wine. “I’ll need them returned to my care at the River House. Attempting to do anything in the Arena barracks could lend ear to gossip and that could poorly affect a marriage proposal.”

“You can take Rhysand back, not all three of them.”

Any sort of excitement that I’d managed to actually pull this off fades in an instant. 

“They’ve proven that being together is dangerous.”

“They are not fools, they will see through this arrangement,” I try to argue, but he cuts me off with a raised hand.

“You have proven to be equally as unpredictable and I need assurances that you are not playing me just as you are them. I know what a bond is capable of, I have seen plenty of children turn on their parents for a mate. Prove yourself useful with Rhysand and then perhaps I will find a usefulness for the others. Until that time, they stay with the other gladiators.”

“They need a clean environment to heal if you are to keep them as gladiators.”

“This is not a debate. It is a test. You’ve revealed a weakness in yourself. Show me it isn’t one.”

“There are plenty of other ways for us to get results if you’re incapable,” Amarantha says with a shrug. “I don’t personally think you’re capable of separating your feelings on the matter, but I’m eager to sit back and watch it burn.”

My cheeks burn but I bite my tongue.

“I’ll get the results we need when you fail.”

“I won’t fail,” I say through my teeth. 

But it’s certainly going to take a lot more than I’d anticipated to play this Game, and play it correctly. Hell, I still have to find a way to get this to work around Anise! And manage to go back and forth between the House and here to ensure Azriel and Cassian are safe.

I don’t rub the tension headache building in my temples. I don’t let the mask slip. I raise my glass in mock toast to my Father. “Here’s to ensuring the safety of the Empire.” The wine helps the unease lodged in my throat go down a little easier. I’m going to need a lot more before this is done.

--------

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Sorry this chapter is so short, I was debating on the direction I was headed, so I just needed to set some things up. As always, let me know if you want to be added to the tag list and thank you all for sticking with me this far! <3

[romanteacism]

Knight Aemond x Princess Reader Run

Synopsis: Running hand in hand with Ser Aemond as you try to escape a suitor. Warnings: None (yet), Familial Problems, Aemond and Princess Growing Closer, Fluff, Comfort PREVIOUS PART / NEXT PART A/N: Is it too soon to say foreshadowing?

Aemond woke with the first light shining upon his closed eye. Aemond furrowed his brows, not fully aware of what he had done— he had slept! He had slept through his post the entire night. With such realizations, Aemond suddenly opened his eye, sitting up straight only to realize that the usual coldness his metal and leather armor presented turned warm. He looked down upon his frame and saw the fur blanket that was once on your bed. He looked further upon his current situation, one of your tattered plush animals in between his arms. “Good morning, Ser Aemond.” He heard you call; he looked up only to see you dressed in your embroidered robe, sitting on the carpeted floor, playing with your pet. 

Aemond blinked and quickly stood, springing back to his usual guarded disposition, making you laugh at how quickly he shed the peacefulness you observed whilst he slept. He looked quite serene with his eyes closed and his face not adorned by the harsh stoicism he usually presented. “Princess… why did you not wake me?” He questioned, clearing his throat as his voice still held the traces of sleep. “And why should I? I’m not that cruel,” You smiled, petting your feline as he purred at your touch. “Yet still— you sh—“ You sighed and shook your head at your knight, who still clutched your favorite plush animal in his arm. It was quite unnecessary for you to place it on his hold, but you could not resist! You could deny yourself the image of your strong, frightening knight holding your favored plush toy that you sought every time you were rendered afraid when you were a child. 

When Aemond realized you were still giggling, he looked down at his frame and saw the reason for the glee in your eyes. He sighed as he took hold of the plush animal you placed in his grasp and placed it on the chair. “You should have woken me, princess.” He sighed. “You needed rest.” You insisted, turning away from Ser Aemond for a moment to place a kiss on your pet’s head. Aemond was ready to argue once more, but you spoke first. “No sense to argue about such matters; what’s done is done. You had the respite you needed, and no danger came into the night.” Aemond bit his tongue, preferring to focus on the respite you bestowed upon him and the kind gesture you showed. 

When a knock upon your door sounded out in the room, Aemond unbarred it, thinking it was your handmaiden ready to dress you for the day, but the knight was met with the prince. “Good morrow, Ser Aemond. Is my sister awake?” He questioned, and the knight nodded, moving out of the way for the prince to enter. “Sister th— why are you on the floor! I told you not to sit there! It’s quite dirty; you’ll get congestion!” Your brother fretted, and Aemond was quick to go to your place and aid you in standing. “What is it, brother?” You sighed, taking a few moments before stealing away your hold from your knight’s arm. 

“Lord Dumont is asking to break your fast with him in the gardens.” You frowned, and your knight stilled. “I do not want to.” You said quickly, and Aemond felt an odd sense of relief wash over him. Your brother sighed, “Blatantly denying his request would be most impertinent— please, sister, you must humor the lord.” Your brother said as he watched disgust present itself on your face. “Then say that I cannot because… because I am injured!” You suddenly proposed, moving forward your injured arm as evidence, but in doing so, you were only overcome with pain, making you wince. Your knight was not certain what to do because he could not let his concern for you show when in the presence of your brother. “Oh sister, you cannot use your injury as reason— I saw you running around the garden just yesterday!��� 

“I wasn’t running,” You muttered, glancing towards your knight, who gave you a knowing look, for you truly did run away from him yesterday. “That is beside the point— the point is, you must break your fast and spend the morning with Lord Dumont.” Your brother sighed, and you shook your head in defiance, and for once, Aemond agreed to your stubbornness. “Sister, you are of age now! We cannot ward off the eligible lords forever!” Your brother explained, not expecting to have this argument with you so early in the morning. “You could try,” You mumbled, looking upon the floor, your knight doing the same in order to hinder his smirk. 

“Enough! This is not up for discussion; you will spend the morning with lord Dumont. I am not asking you to marry him; just humor him because that is what any princess does.” You parted your mouth to speak, but your brother quickly scurried out of your chambers, and in exchange for him was your handmaid who readied you for the day whilst Ser Aemond exited your chambers and took his post outside your door. 

Ser Aemond stood behind you as you sat with lord Dumont in the gardens. The knight resisting to aid you in all that you need for the lord Dumont offered his services. “How long are you to stay in the capitol, my lord?” You drawled, trying to make conversation with the nobleman who you were in no mood to entertain. “As long as the crown will have me, my princess,” He smiled charmingly, inching towards you, and you could only force a small smile to come to your lips. For the better part of the morning, you had to force yourself to appear interested in the lord, who discussed philosophy with you. In other cases, you would find the topic interesting, but all the lord discussed with you was misinformation— the matters were muddled in his mind, and he did not articulate it well as he spoke. Aemond heard you let out a grieved sigh as you were driven to a frenzy due to the dullness of the lord. 

“Is anything the matter, princess?” Lord Dumont questioned as he heard the sigh leave your lips. You blinked for a moment, thinking of an answer. “Oh, no… I am just… thirsty. Would you be so kind as to fetch me a cup of wine?” You say, batting your lashes in order to convince him that it must be him to fetch you refreshment and leave your side instead of him ordering a squire. “But of course, anything for you, princess,” The lord smiled. You returned his smile and watched as he disappeared amongst the shrubbery of the gardens before quickly turning to your knight. “You must help me get out of this,” You said in desperation, already expecting him to disagree, for he was always stubborn and restrained himself to the laws of men. “Very well, princess,” he nodded, and words of further persuasion left your lips as you thought he had disagreed. “Oh— wait, did you agree?” You asked, and Aemond bit the insides of his cheek as he gave another nod. “Well then, come on!” You said and took hold of his hand as you rushed out of the gardens, readily escaping your suitor. 

“Princess— where are we going?” Aemond asked. He fretted that you would trip as you two passed the halls, trying not to let his sensibilities get clouded as you did not let go of his hand— letting him feel your soft touch against his roughed ones. “I do not know. Somewhere my brother could not find me and force me to spend another second with that lord. Did you hear what he was saying? He was insisting that Archmaester Atticus is the one responsible for the belief that there are two worlds—“ 

“Our world, the material world—which is the imperfect copy of the real world.” Ser Aemond finished your sentence as you two slowed down, far enough from the gardens and your brother’s wing. “Yes.” You nodded and finally let go of your knight’s hand. “And when I informed him that it was indeed not Archmaester Atticus but rather his teacher, Archmaester Philo— he laughed at me in ridicule!” You explained in disbelief that such treatment was bestowed upon you. “Me?! He was laughing at me in ridicule as if I were the one who was wrong! If this were my grandmother’s decade, the punishment for mocking a princess is hanging! Or at least a moon in the black cells,” Aemond breathed out a laugh, even though he tried to resist it. “He was quite insufferable, princess. Dull and… apparently dumb, as well.” Aemond commented lowly. “I know! And my brother wants me to consider him as a prospect for my hand! Imagine!” You exclaimed, with a disapproving shake of your head. “I can’t,” You knight commented. “Nor can I,” You agreed. 

“Princess?!” You hear the call of lord Dumont, making you take your knight’s hand once more and flee to another wing of the keep. “What is this place?” Ser Aemond questioned as he led you to a dusted and what appeared to be an abandoned hall. “It was my great grandparents’ wing— grandfather closed it after their death, wanting to preserve the memory of his parents.” You say as Ser Aemond helped you bar the great doors. “Did you know they died on the same day?” You say, and Aemond shook his head. “Was there a plague? Were they attacked?” He questioned, and you made a face at his rather grim assumptions. “No,” You say as you two thread further into the abandoned wing. “My great-grandmother died in her sleep, and my great-grandfather discovered her. He made it through the rest of the day, preparing her wake in the specificity that she had always wanted, and when night came… great-grandfather joined her in the afterlife.” You informed, your knight slowing down in his steps as he tried to comprehend your words. “He was in perfect health despite his advanced age… and they concluded that the reason for his death is because he found no point in living after his wife’s demise.” 

You paused by a portrait that was dusted and was holding the remnants of lapsed time, gazing upon your great-grandmother who sat on the throne and her husband in his rightful place, standing beside her. Aemond turned his eye towards you, who was looking with longing upon the portrait of your great-grandmother and her husband, who was once her sworn protector. “They were the last love match in our family,” You suddenly said, bringing Aemond out of his reverie. “What?” He asked, uncertain of what you said as he was too focused on gazing upon you. 

“They were the last love match,” You repeated. “They were the last rulers in our family who married for love rather than just duty— after that, as much as they tried, their children only married their spouses for the sake of the crown or gain. Even my mother and father… and I suppose me and my brother as well,” You sighed heavily. “As a child, I dreamed about breaking such dreary and hopeless traditions, but time and time again, I am reminded that such dreams are not meant for my station— we’re not meant to marry for love but rather for logic.” Aemond’s hold on the hilt of his sword tightened as he heard you utter such words. Never had he heard you so… serious and pessimistic. “That could still change, princess,” You turned to your knight, surprised at his uncharacteristic show of optimism. 

“I hope. But if it were up to the others— I would be married to the next wealthy lord who asked for my hand,” You say, an odd twisting in your stomach as you uttered the truth of your situation and a flutter in your heart at the dark look in your knight’s eye. “I could kill them— or perhaps maim them beyond repair,” Aemond said, serious, but you only laughed, taking your knight’s words as a jest. “Again, I’m not that cruel,” You laughed. “Let’s go; I know a passage here that leads to the library,” You say, taking hold of your knight’s hand out of habit as you two ran through the halls once more. 

“Such insolence! Do you truly not think about anyone else but yourself!?” You looked upon the floor as your mother came to your chambers later that day to scold you for the disrespect you showed towards lord Dumont. Aemond was standing by the door at his usual post, resisting to go by your side as you shrunk in your spot and as your mother poured out her rage. “By gods— how are you this selfish?! Do you not understand how important and heavy the influence of lord Dumont’s house presents to the kingdom?! And you had the gull to escape him as if he were the plague! You ingrate!” You bit harshly at the inside of your cheeks to prevent the sobs that wanted to escape, letting your tears hit the ground as you could not find it in yourself to defend the actions that you believed to be necessary.

Aemond could only watch as each pearl tear rolled from your eyes and dropped upon the floor. “I… I did not wish to offend him— but I did not think him to be a suitable suitor… did he not sire two children by his sister’s handmaiden? Children that he does not acknowledge nor care for. How could I marry such a man? I did not want to waste my time on a futile courtship.” Your mother scoffed. “Waste your time?” She asked in ridicule. “And how valuable is your time that you cannot even perform your simple duty? Would you rather spend your precious time painting another useless landscape? Or perhaps run wildly around the gardens? Tell me. Where must your time be spent?!” You bit your tongue as your fingers picked at themselves as a distraction from your tears. “You’re so self-centered! But I suppose that is the outcome when your father grants all you want and wish for. Letting you grow up spoiled and without regard for anyone else but yourself!” Aemond swallowed thickly as he could not disagree more with your mother’s words. He greatly wanted to defend you,  to tell your mother how truly selfless you are, how well loved you are by your subjects, and how everything she said was entirely far from the truth, but Aemond kept reminding himself of his place. 

“You wretched child!” Your mother screamed, raising her hand to slap you in the face. You flinched, ready to be met with a harsh slap, but your mother hindered herself midway, and your knight finally had enough, moving forward to get to you. The clank of his armor caught the attention of your cowering frame and your mother’s, whose hand was still cocked in the air. Aemond bit his tongue as he was met with the loathsome gaze of the queen. When he told you moons ago that no one could truly hate you even if they tried, he believed his words to be true. But to see the hate in your mother’s eyes, Aemond felt unfortunate as he had sold you a lie.

Aemond lowered his gaze, reluctantly returning to his post. “Just wait until your father hears about the way you had treated lord Dumont— I’m finally certain you wouldn’t be so endearing in his eyes now. There is only so long a time when he could indulge your ways, blaming your carelessness and crassness on youth. But you are of age now, daughter. He could no longer turn a blind eye to the unruly, self-involved, and indulgent girl you truly are.” You whimpered as your mother threaded close to you, spewing out the spiteful words so close to your face. 

The queen let out a breath, walking to your door as you continued to whimper, still forcing yourself not to let your sobs escape your lips. Before your mother exited your chambers, she paused by the door, “And no sweets for a moon!” She proclaimed before forcefully slamming shut the wooden door, leaving you, who finally let out a sob. Your mother seemed discontented at the hurtful words she spewed; she had to spite you and take one of the things you truly enjoyed and loved in the world: your precious sweets. 

Aemond moved to take hold of your tremoring frame, your tears never ceasing, but you backed away. “Could you… s—step outside for a moment,” You say, your voice tremoring as you turn away from your knight, not wanting him to see your cry once more— it was becoming a habit, and you did not want to get used to letting him see you in such a vulnerable state. Aemond shook his head even though you were not turned to him. “Please? I… I need a moment,” You insisted, your voice breaking further. Aemond sighed, moving to pry away your hands that covered your crying face. “I… I’m not leaving you, princess,” He muttered and pulled you into his arms, letting you cry into his chest, and he could only hope that his presence would be enough to comfort you. It was. 

[hedwig221b]

Not necessarily bamf Stiles but maybe a similar vein brought on by another post: feral, overly protective Stiles? Like no chill if one of his is messed with but everyone else can burn for all he cares?

I could not be more late with this... But here you go 💕

isn't a little agony worth it? by whentheywrite

"You took my pack,” the emissary said, pausing at the head of the hallway. “Now I’m gonna take them back.” Col retreated behind the line of guns. The emissary’s gaze traveled over them all and his eyes darkened. He took a step forward, ignoring the tightening of every finger around the trigger. “It’s doesn’t matter how many of there you are,” he said, words almost a snarl. He moved closer— Col started to tremble. “I’m going to kill every single one of you until I find them. Do you understand me?” “Stand down, boy!” “Do you understand me? I’ll burn this whole fucking place down if I have to!”

To Find Yourself Worthy by churkey

Stiles might not like Derek but that doesn't mean he's just going sit idly by when Scott kicks him out of the pack.

all the kissing by wearing_tearing

“Hi, I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Stiles, Derek’s husband. Now would you kindly take your hands off of him?”

There’s A Beast In My Heart (He’ll Only Bow To You) by RayShippouUchiha

"Stiles.” Derek fucking whimpers and if Stiles wasn’t already dying he’d kill himself for making Derek sound so hurt. Stiles just wants to protect him so much sometimes because no one else ever seems to realize that Derek is so goddamn fragile and Stiles hates them all a little bit for not being able to see that. Or In an effort to expel the Nogitsune Stiles is given the bite but it all goes horribly wrong.

In Your Hands by StarShineForMe

Spit forms at the corners of Gerard’s mouth as he dips his head towards Stiles, the tendons in his neck standing out in anger. “You’d do well to end this now, boy. Give…me…the…Alpha!” Gerard glares at him with crazed eyes, glittering with rage. Stiles purses his lips to hold in a sob, then takes a long, shuddering breath. “No,” he says, quiet but resolute. “I don’t care what you do to me. I’m never gonna give you Derek Hale.” *Stiles' kidnapping and the aftermath- full of puppy Isaac, slow burn to explicit in love Sterek, and the makings of a ragtag pack family as they go

and there you stand, clothed in all your glory (i am stumbling and fumbling and reaching out) by snickiebear

Stiles looks at him and Derek doesn't know what to do with his hands. or, stiles is the resident bad boy with his tattoos and bike and leather jacket. derek's hopelessly in love with him and a werewolf. these things go hand in hand.

Abiding By Pack Law by neil4god

Traditionally the Alpha mate must meet certain requirements, however there are always certain exceptions. For every rule there is someone who has broken it, well almost every rule. There is one rule that no-one has ever broken. The alpha's pack must approve the match, if they don't, well a new mate is required. Unfortunately Stiles know he doesn't fit the requirements, the pack hate him, Derek just hasn't realised it yet.

The Person You'd Take a Bullet For (is Behind The Trigger) by SadieHerondale

The road to hell is paved with good intentions, but until he gets Derek back, Stiles' actions are going to be worse than bad. And he will get Derek back, come hell or high water.

Hunters beware by Nival_Vixen

Stiles and Derek have been kidnapped, drugged, and tortured. Their captors still aren't entertained, so they set Stiles and Derek up in a contraption that makes Stiles torture Derek instead. He hasn't slept in three days.

Drain by syriala

Stiles screams, furious and scared, and his magic just explodes. It fills him up from the top of his head to the tip of his toes, flowing through his whole body and Stiles revels in the power he suddenly has at his disposal. He knows he could move mountains if only he wanted to, but all he wants to do is tear that foreign alpha apart for daring to touch Derek.

Don't Touch My Things (That Includes Him) by Kymera219

Hunters decide to kidnap Derek.. Stiles shows them why that's a bad idea

Summer heat by pineneedlepants

Derek's lazy summer day ends in a wolfsbane poisoning and a heat stroke. Only half of that is Scott's fault.

[masterlist link]

[biteyoubiteme]

cola float

beomgyu x fem!reader

synopsis: 'just one more game,' only you can't wait for it to be over

warnings: 🔞!!! oral (m!rec), slight voyeurism, hair pulling, dom!beomgyu, orgasm denial (m! and f!rec), no protection, creampie, prob forgot some sorry

wc: 2k

an: feedback is appreciated! this is apart of my float event! check out the other members fics not proofread sorry[float m.list]

[m.list]

for most of your off time with classes over for the summer you’ve sat on the couch rotting away, watching your favorite show or hanging out with your friends. Sometimes Beomgyu went along with you to dinner or even sat and watched a few episodes with you but he spent most of his free time playing on his pc.

your daily routine left little time and you rarely saw each other even when you lived in the same apartment and slept in the same bed. you didn’t find him coming to bed until late in the morning. both of your sleep schedules now completely thrown off and different from one another’s.

usually, it didn’t bother you. it wasn’t necessary to spend every waking moment with your significant other to be happy. it was necessary for you to receive attention at least once in the day before bed, at least a text. only you haven’t seen beomgyu all day, the sound of his replies to his friends is enough to tell you he’s alive and well. you know he’d eaten because when you were in the shower you came out to find the pantry door open a crack after he grabbed what he wanted.

Now it was late, the city lights telling you it was dark enough in the day that you needed a lamp on. gyu’s voice spills through the walls as you turn off the TV. “no no you have to go around!” he’s yelling into his mic and even with the door closed you can make out every word spoken.

you only had the intention to say goodnight when you pushed open the door to the office. gyus pc set up illuminating the room purple, the curtains drawn closed. beomgyu’s face is washed in the glow from the monitor, headset on as his fingers work the keyboard free hand clicking the mouse. “I’m going to bed,” you say from the doorway and he doesn’t even turn to acknowledge you. you speak up, “Gyu?”

“I’ll be there in a bit,” he mutters, turning his chin in your direction but not lifting his eyes off the screen. “No, not you, I’m on the left side,” he says to his teammates over the headset.

normally you would just go to bed without playing much into the easy dismissal. Gyu would climb in after you later in the night snuggling up trying to capture your warmth, kiss along your neck until the both of you drifted off to sleep. It was never a big deal but tonight you wanted attention and watching him tug up the sleeves on his sweatshirt to show off his forearms was enough to make your decision for you.

you pushed off the doorway moving to stand next to his desk. beomgyu only spares you a glance as you push his chair back, it's not even far enough for his hands to budge on the keys. there is just enough space for you to slip under his desk for you to rest your hands on his thighs and look up at him.

gyu does a double take when you wedge yourself in front of him, it's enough time for him to be distracted and the shouts from his friends over the headset are loud enough to hear without straining. “you only have two more lives gyu we can’t fucking loose because you can’t pay attention!” the lights flashing red against his skin.

you can’t help but smile, the sooner he gets kicked off the sooner he’s going to turn all his attention on you. your hands slide up his sweatpants, fingers slipping into the waistband but not tugging it down. beomgyu is back to watching his screen but you can tell your effect on him as his hips sink into the chair. As much as he could pretend to ignore you he was battling against the image of you on your knees right now. beomgyu was trying to keep his thoughts away but he was already getting hard at the implications. warm hands sliding up under his sweatshirt and tracing the lines of his stomach before traveling back down to his waistband. it was when you nudged your face into his semi-hard bulge when his hips lifted to meet your cheek. he was getting harder by the second and a single glance down at you with your cheek on his thigh and your hand over his sweats palming him through the fabric was driving him insane.

“beomgyu!” someone yelled from his headset, gyu’s eyes snapping back to the screen to narrowly miss getting taken out in his game.

“Sorry sorry,” he apologized voice thick as he tried to clear it, “we have to hurry this round I need to take care of something,”

“Well don’t throw the game at least try to pay attention,” it’s then when you slip your hand into his pants. beomgyu’s mouth falls open in a silent moan he tries to keep from the mic but it’s difficult to do when your thumb is circling his tip.

your giggle at his reaction makes him glance back down at you. he wants to end his game right then, his friends will forgive him eventually but he’s come so far already and a small part of him wants to see how far you’ll go. he looks back to the monitor missing your slight pout at being ignored again.

beomgyu is hardly ever quiet when you give him head, not even when you give slow pumps with your hand. Now he’s trying so hard to keep his noises down, lip tucked between his teeth when you tug him free from his pants. veiny shaft thick in your palm as you adjust your speed. you want to push him further towards dropping the game but you can’t lie and say you don’t want his friends to hear him at least once. It's the fact he wants to be quiet that makes you lean over and lick up from the base of his cock to the tip.

beomgyu isn’t expecting the feel of your tongue, his hiss breaking his concentration as he fumbles his fingers over the keyboard. you grip him around the base giving feather-light kisses along the tip of his cock. the ghost of your mouth makes his hips jerk up trying to chase the feeling. and when you finally slip him into your mouth gyus is quick to hit the side of his headset to silence his audio costing him another life in the game but the freedom to let out a chest-rumbling moan. “oh fuck- no wait- fuck,” the first half still caught on the mic since he wasn’t fast enough.

you swirl your tongue around him, following the natural ridges, hands working what you don’t fit down your throat. You could keep bobbing your head for as long as he needed but Gyu was back to watching the screen, hands unmoving from his keyboard, finger pressed on his mouse ready to keep playing like you weren’t here at all. The only inclination that he’s affected is his soft whimpering coming from lips still between his teeth even though his friends couldn’t hear him anymore.

pulling away completely you drop all contact with his body leaving him high and dry. He glances down, “I didn’t say stop,” as if he could tell you what you could and couldn’t do.

you huff a laugh, “I didn’t even have to start,” you lean over to plant one last kiss on his pink tip, precum already coating his slit. his cock is standing up straight as you move back out from under the desk. “you can come finish in bed once you get off your game,” you say sweetly and Gyu is openly gawking at you, the screen flashing red as he loses his final life in the game. You can hear the roar of his friends over his headset as you turn to walk away but you don’t even take a step before you hear the creaking of the chair behind you.

gyu grabs the back of your shirt tugging the collar to pull you back towards him. he gives you no time to realize you’re in for it before you’re leaning over the desk with your face pressed into the smooth surface. beomgyu pushes his headset off his ears the sound of them falling to the floor not even making him flinch as he pushes down your shorts and panties.

you’re dripping already that even with no prep the stretch of beomgyu shoving himself between your folds doesn’t burn. “you little fucking tease,” beomgyu grunts slamming his hips into you, “sucking me off while I play wasn’t enough huh? you needed to be stuffed so bad you knew I wouldn’t have been able to stop myself from leaving to fuck you immediately,”

you can’t even find your response as your cunt is being absolutely punished. beomgyu wraps his hand in your hair tugging your head back as he leans his chest against you so that he can press his mouth to your ear. “now you’re going to take my load and head straight to bed and I’ll think about letting you finish when I think it’s time,”

your whine at the thought of not being able to cum is caught in your throat as beomgyu angles his hips to hit the perfect gummy spot deep inside you. your eyes nearly roll to the back of your head when he slips his free hand in front of you to rub at your swollen clit.

“Should I be nice?” his words fanning over your check your nod harder to achieve with his hold on your hair. “but you know I don’t have to finish what I started, I could just stop because I didn’t have to start in the first place,” he pulls his hand away from your clit and you’re almost in tears at the loss.

“no please!” you whine, “I’m sorry please beomgyu please,”

you can feel him twitch inside you, knowing he’s close from the sound of his moans. and you’re so close to following after him knowing that if he presses his fingers back to your clit you’ll cum without thinking twice.

you roll your hips back against him as he lets go of your hair to grab your hips. your face back to being pressed against the desk, a little bit of drool slipping out of your mouth as he hits your cervix.

beomgyu knows he’s going to cum and it’s because he wants to feel you fluttering and sucking him in deeper that he caves and drops a hand back down to circle your clit. instantly you’re crying out as you cum, legs shaking as you’re fucked into the desk. gyu finds it hard to pull out when you feel too wet and welcoming. the smacking of your skin against his mixed with your sweet sounds pushing him over the edge. hot ropes of his cum coating your warm walls both of your moans loud as beomgyu slowed his pace pressing his hips firmly against yours to make sure you feel as stuffed as possible.

both of you are panting trying to catch your breath when you hear the chatter from the headset on the floor. “you could have at least silenced the call before you fucked,” “Literally none of us would have been pissed if you went afk for a few so we didn’t have to hear that,”

“fuck,” beomgyu groaned, he didn’t realize that when he tossed the headset to the floor it landed on the button making sure everything was heard. “I’m never going to hear the end of this,” but he wasn’t upset. He only kissed the back of your neck and then your cheek. He presses his mouth to your ear so that they can’t hear him. “but I don’t care, I have my perfect little tease to take of me,” you giggle pressing your hand to your mouth to try and stifle the sound. “now I’m going to play one more round if you wanna cockwarm me until I’m done I sure wouldn’t mind that,”

[sleepyjuice]

44 - maybe its raining n reader is walking to the chateau by herself so jj rushes out to meet her and walk her <3

When you texted jj 15 minutes ago that you were on your way to meet him, the skies were clear and it was beautiful out, so you decided to walk the 25 minute walk to the chateau instead of taking your bike.

That proved itself to be a horrible decision as shortly into your walk, you heard thunder rumbling in the distance and you looked up to see the sky was getting darker by the second.

You quickened your pace, your early afternoon stroll turning into more of a power walk, hoping you could make it in time to not get rained on.

It seemed as if your desire to not get rained on somehow triggered the rain to begin coming down just moments after your thought.

“Oh, fuck me.” You groaned to yourself, wrapping your arms around yourself as you began jogging now, your clothes and hair quickly becoming soaked as the rain poured down.

You had about ten minutes left before you would arrive at the chateau, yet it seemed like hours as you trudged through the nasty weather, your shoes sloshing as they filled with water.

“Yo! Babe!” A voice startled you through the sound of the rainfall hitting the ground, your head shooting over just down the street where jj was running towards you with an umbrella. Where the fuck did he get an umbrella?

“Jesus, you’re fucking soaked. Not in the good way.” jj said as he approached you, immediately holding the umbrella over your head, leaning into you to share it.

You rolled your eyes at his words, but your shoulders sagged in relief at his presence, utterly grateful he had come to rescue you.

“What are you doing?” You asked, gathering your hair to the side to wring out some of the water it had collected.

“Came to get ya. Knew you were walking and saw it started down pouring shortly after you left. I would’ve taken the Twinkie but John b has it.” He explained as you finally reached the chateau, hurrying onto the covered porch.

You shivered once the air conditioning hit you, wishing you had dressed appropriately for the rain and jealous of jj’s dry state.

“God, it’s freezing.” You sighed as you kicked your shoes and socks off, setting them on the porch to hopefully dry eventually.

jj wasted no time grabbing you a towel, wrapping it around your shoulders and rubbing it down your arms and your sides.

“My poor baby.” he cooed, drying off your exposed skin a bit more before he pulled you into his bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him.

He helped you out of your clothes and you didn’t protest, allowing him to discard the wet clothing in the bathroom, leaving you naked in front of him. His eyes shamelessly scanned over your exposed body in front of him, admiring the sight, but he didn’t make any moves on you, knowing you were cold and uncomfortable. That could wait for later.

He finished drying you off, giving the top of your head a soft kiss before grabbing one of his shirts and a pair of basketball shorts he had, slipping the shirt over your head and handing you the shorts.

You sighed at the feeling of comfort, now being in dry clothing. Your hair was still a bit wet, but you had pulled it into a bun to deal with later.

“Thank you, jay.” You looked up at his gratefully, beyond appreciative of his actions. You would have been way worse off if he hadn’t gotten to you when he did.

“C’mere sweet girl.” He hummed, hands finding your waist as he pulled you down into his bed with him, his grip firm as he pulled you into his chest, your body curling into him immediately.

“Mm,” you hummed contently, “you’re so warm.” He grinned as you relaxed into him, his strong arms holding you close, hands gently massaging your back.

“Yeah? Thought that usually bugged you. What is it you say in the middle of the night? I’m a human furnace? That I heat up the whole bed?” He chuckled, referring to how hot he got when he slept, which inevitably would make you burn up as well.

“You are, you do,” you giggled, “but right now that’s exactly what I need.”

[llamagoddessofficial]

Can you believe I've never done Farmtale Sans before? As a certified country girl? Shocking, I know. I'll rectify this issue with my latest brainrot scenario immediately

---

“whoever this is, it better be real fuckin’ important,” the voice at the other end said, gruff and tired, heavy with a mix of annoyance and sleepiness.

Immediately, shame washed over you. The very small amount of steam you’d managed to muster up completely dissipated from your body as you imagined Sans’ disappointed and disbelieving reaction to your pathetic request.

This was a mistake.

“... H-hey. Uhm... I’m fine, I didn’t mean to call. Butt dial, hahah.” Your voice nearly cracked. “Sorry for waking you up.”

“... wait.” His voice instantly changed. “hey, don’t hang up-”

You didn’t hear the rest of what he said. You hung up, and put the phone down. Now you were right back to square one, sitting at the kitchen table in a freezing empty house at 2 in the morning. It had taken you almost half an hour to muster up the courage to call him- thirty minutes of sitting by the phone, wrapped up in your coat, shaking and holding back tears. You started plotting places you were going to sleep. Maybe if you put more wood in the kitchen stove, you could just sleep at the table until morning. 

... You inherited this place from your grandmother. It was a ‘rustic’ house that hadn’t seen human company for over a decade, in the middle of the deep countryside, cut off from almost everything. Spooky, draughty, on nights like tonight sitting in the kitchen was like sitting in a fridge. You had moved out of necessity- your landlord in the city had evicted you from your beloved apartment to jack up his prices, and you couldn’t find anywhere else to live except this middle-of-nowhere house left in your name.

You had lived in the city your whole life. You weren’t used to being in the country, not at all. The month you’d spent here had only reinforced that fact to you, over and over.

Something made a noise outside. An animal, maybe. You curled your coat tighter around you.

The only upside so far had been meeting the monsters that made up the tight-knit community you had been unceremoniously dropped into. Papyrus and Sans, especially, had been so wonderful and helpful. Sans had told you to call if you needed anything.

... Which was exactly why you didn’t have the heart to tell him why you were really calling. You didn’t want him to think any worse of you than he probably already did. A stuck-up city girl who doesn’t know what she’s doing.

You were scared.

... 

The phone rang. The sound made you jump, it felt so loud in the silence. Despite your increasing shame, and the desire to just let it ring... you picked up.

“c’mon, don’t be like that.” He sounded much softer than when he had first answered. “what’s wrong? something happen?”

“N-no.” Hearing someone else’s voice was so comforting. You felt so alone, far away from everyone. “It’s nothing.”

You obviously weren’t very convincing. “doesn’t seem like nothing. you sound terrified.”

“I’m just cold.”

“didja kill someone? do i need to come over and help hide a body?”

You couldn’t help it, that made you giggle a little.

...

It just came. You didn’t entirely know why. Probably because it was two, and you hadn’t slept since six the previous morning. Unable to help yourself, you just... burst into tears.

“hey. s’ok, you’re gonna be ok. i’m on the way.”

“N-no, no, please,” You pressed your sleeve against your eyes The shame was absolutely overwhelming. “Please don’t come,”

“too late. already outta bed, it’s serious business. you gonna tell me what’s got you all shaken up?”

You pulled your knees up to your face. Well, no hiding it now, huh? He’d heard you sobbing over the phone. Your voice crumpled under a mixture of tears, fear, immense fatigue and shame. You felt like such a baby. 

“Th-there’s a huge spider on my bed,” you finally admitted, feebly. “I-I’m... I don’t know what to do.”

“aw jeez. why didn’t you just say?”

You could suddenly barely talk through the crying. Hours of stress, all coming out in one mess. He probably thought you were pathetic.

“hey. knock knock.”

As he said that, you heard two soft knocks on your side door. You jumped up, what the hell? Was that Sans? You dropped the phone and rushed to the door to let him in, almost tripping over yourself. 

You opened the door, the air was full of the sound of wind and crickets. Sans stood in the darkness outside of the house, dressed in a thick knitted sweater, blue and white striped pyjama bottoms, big heavy boots, and a coat over the top of it all. He had the phone in one hand, and his smile widened when he saw you.

Shocked, you scrubbed at your eyes and nose again, self consciously trying to wipe off the tears and snot. He lived half an hour's drive from you. “H-how... how did you get here so fast?”

“shortcut.” He winked, those lovely emerald green eyelights glimmering in the low light. “can i come in?”

You nodded, not trusting your voice, stepping to the side. Maybe he knew roads your map apps didn't. Sans eagerly came into the light, kicking off his shoes and closing the door behind him.

“this way?” he asked. 

... You showed him to the bedroom, but cowered in the doorway. 

“I-it’s under the sheet.”

Sans didn’t even hesitate. He approached the bed and flipped back the sheet. The spider hadn’t moved since you last saw it scurry under your bedclothes, still sitting right there, with its fat hairy body and sharp legs. It was probably the biggest spider you had ever seen in your entire life. You felt a horrible chill pass over you.

“dang. he is big. look at the size of that gangly fucker.”

Having said that, Sans just... grabbed it. He picked the spider up before it could run and held it in his enclosed fist like he was scooping up a penny he had dropped on the floor. Just like that, he moved across the room and pulled back the curtain, cracked the window open, stuck his arm out, and threw the spider out into the darkness.

He closed the window again. The air felt less heavy. He even tugged the handle to make sure the window was all properly sealed up, pulling the curtains closed again.

It took him all of fifteen seconds.

“all good.” He turned to you, grinning and showing you his open palms. No spider. “successfully evicted.”

...

You started crying again. 

Sans mumbled a soft ‘aw jeez’. He didn’t hesitate to cross the room, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into a warm hug, ignoring your babbled apologies. 

“he really spooked ya, huh?” A gentle hand smoothed over your hair. He smelled like sweet hay, hours of sunshine, and something slightly musky. “how long were you tryna drum up the courage?”

“T-two hours,” you sobbed, muffled in his sweater.

You’d expected him to laugh at you. But he didn’t. He just held you, letting you cry out all the stress that had been building up over the course of the night. You were pretty sure this was the first time you had been hugged since before you left the city.

Eventually, you calmed yourself down, reducing to just hiccups. Sans didn’t let go until you did, allowing you to pull away, but keeping a steadying hand on your arm. 

“easy, pet.” His voice was so warm and soothing. “you’re all good.”

“Fucking... I’m just such a baby.” Your sleeves were damp from all of the tear wiping you were doing. You made an unattractive sniffling sound. “You didn’t even hesitate.”

“cus i’m used to ‘em. also, i’m a skeleton, so i don’t gotta worry about being bitten. no shame in bein’ scared of the big ones.” 

Your voice was hoarse. “I’m sorry you came out all this way.”

“... did you think i’d be mad at you?” he asked, softly.

“M-mhm.”

“i really don’t mind bein’ yer bug removing hero." He patted his nonexistent bicep. "tell ya what, it makes me feel very big an’ tough.”

He had you giggling again. He always did. He seemed proud of himself- his presence was balm to your Soul right now. 

“I just... I get so scared at night.” Your cheeks were hot. “It’s so quiet, and dark. I feel like I’m the only person around for miles. I don’t know why I thought I could do this.”

"this?"

"Living out here."

“hey, i beg to differ. yer already doin’ so much better than most who move to these parts.”

You looked up at him. Why did that tiny bit of praise make your heart swell so much? You didn’t feel like you were doing ‘better’. You’d just called your nearest neighbour at 2 in the morning to come save you from a spider. “But I’m always asking for help.”

“exactly. you’re askin’. that’s the important part.” His eyelights were so warm. “that’s how we make it work, out here. we help each other.”

Goddamnit. You were gonna cry again. You just about managed to choke it down.

“... the animal noises also probably freak you out too, huh?”

“Y-yeah, hah.”

“if you don’t know what yer hearin’, it can be pretty scary.”

... You sniffled.

...

“... you’re shaking. d’ya want me to stay?”

How did he know? He always just seemed to know. You nodded, meekly. You didn’t want to be alone right now, and you knew the house would feel even colder and emptier once you’d known how it felt while you had company.

“Will Papyrus be worried?”

“he knew i was headin’ out to help ya. he’ll be fine.”

... You didn’t need to say out loud where you wanted Sans to sleep. Both of you knew.

The two of you finally took off your coats, and Sans turned off the lights. His forest-coloured eyelights were the only illumination in the room. As soon as he shuffled into bed beside you, you gratefully curled up against him, he was so calming and so warm. He reciprocated, wrapping his big arms around you, his comforting smell soothing your shot nerves. 

“... Thank you.” Your voice was almost a whisper.

“yer really warm.” he hummed. “just so you know, i’m a bit of a snorer.”

You probably should’ve been more concerned, sharing a bed in a very secluded location with a guy you barely knew. But you didn’t have the energy for it. For the first time in a long time, you were warm, didn’t feel lonely, and weren’t worried at all about bugs. 

“I don’t mind.”

... It was the best night’s sleep you’d ever had.

[ficnation]

Chapter 1: Dig In

Series: “Eat Your Heart Out” Pairing: Hannibal Lecter x Female! Reader x Will Graham Word count: 4,6k+ Warnings: canon-typical warnings

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NEXT CHAPTER

Will Graham hasn’t seen you in years—years that felt like centuries to him. When you greet him, your voice is like a songbird’s serenade—sweet, peaceful, and meant only for his ears. It was a melody he missed dearly yet never dared to summon in his mind, even as the memories of you bled into his dreams.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, voice breaking at the last word. The question is not hostile, but it’s not friendly either. He knows you didn’t expect him to greet you like an old friend would. You know him too well for that—or at least you knew him before Hannibal Lecter barged into his life.

A smile crawls up your face, but it never reaches your eyes. You came here because you know, you know someone’s version of the story. But you crave to see the truth—to find out exactly what happened—and you know that Will is the only person who can provide you with the answers you’re looking for.

Jack Crawford raises his hand, his palm facing Will in a silent greeting—almost a peace offer. He keeps his distance as he lifts your suitcases out of the trunk of his car. He’s the one that called you, told you everything you needed to know, how Will lost his mind, how he keeps insisting that an innocent man—someone he considered a friend—is the Chesapeake Ripper.

Will can’t help but snicker at the thought of how this conversation went. You don’t seem bothered by the change in his expression—you hardly ever were, and he was always surprised by your unflappable composure.

“I’m going to stay with you, Will.” It’s not a question nor a suggestion fueled by concern over his well-being. It’s a declaration, and he has absolutely no say in this matter. Jack Crawford has already made that decision for him, and Will is in no position to object—he’s well aware of it.

Will nods and gesticulates to the door of his house. It’s a reluctant invitation forced out of him by his boss’ incessant gaze.

You don’t let him think about it for much longer, fearing he’ll withdraw the offer. You walk up the stairs of the porch and cross the doorstep. The inside is no warmer than the bitter winter on the other side of the door. You shiver slightly, wrapping your arms around yourself for heat.

A flock of dogs runs up to you, wagging their tails in excitement. Some of them you’ve already met before, and some of them seem like recent additions to Will’s collection of strays. You pat each dog on the head as you take off your boots by the entrance. You note that you no longer feel like you are just another stray Will has taken into his home.

The warmth of the friendly dogs quickly makes you forget how much you don’t belong here; you enjoy their company for a moment before reluctantly moving on to explore the room.

Not much has changed since the last time you were here. Will’s bed is still in the room, and you remember the time he confessed to you that it makes him feel more aware of his surroundings—gives him a sparse flicker of safety. He has easy access to the windows overlooking the outside, and he hears whenever someone walks up the stairs to his porch. It’s a small shred of comfort to cling to in the midst of his torment—you understand his reasoning.

The fireplace is the same one you used to warm up in front of every morning when you slept over—just surrounded by more dog beds than before. The old, simple in their design but surprisingly comfortable armchairs stand in their designated spots. Dog toys litter the carpeted floor, while books and familiar trinkets overwhelm the shelves, though if you look more closely, you find new additions mixed in with the old.

“Nothing has changed,” you say to yourself and the chill air of the room. You don’t hear Will’s footsteps as he joins you in the heart of his house.

“I did.” His words make your head whip around to face him, your eyes finding his. There’s a certain darkness in his statement—one you recognize.

The brown curls on his head frame his face in an untamed mess. He’s beautiful, and you find yourself still affected by his proximity.

“I don’t think you did.”

“You’ve been here for seven minutes, I can’t imagine you know much,” Will retorted.

“I know you, Will.” You meet his eyes for a few seconds—it doesn’t take much longer for him to look away. He hasn’t changed.

“Not anymore. Believe me,” his voice is certain and steady, but his hands shake as he reaches for your cozy black coat.

You let him slide it off your shoulders—the chill of the room refreshing. Will Graham isn’t a gentleman—he’s never conformed to society’s expectations. The gesture isn’t meant to impress you, make you swoon, or simply check a box. He does it because he still feels something toward you—he still cares.

You don’t talk much after that. Will makes some space for your stuff in his closet and leaves your suitcases in one of the many empty rooms. You thank him with another smile that doesn’t reach your eyes—there’s too much worry in them to convey your gratitude.

He goes on a walk with the dogs while you decide to take stock of his fridge and cupboards in search of any ingredients that you could possibly turn into a late dinner—french crepes filled with whatever jam or other sweet spreading he has in his kitchen.

You make yourself cozy in one of the armchairs in front of the crackling fireplace, your legs tucked comfortably beneath you when the door opens, and a blast of cold winter air rushes in along with seven dogs, melting snow clinging onto their fur stubbornly. They sniff around the room in search of the source of the sweet, delicious smell.

Will follows in their steps, taking off his boots by the door. It won’t take long for his socks to soak up the drops of water scattered over the floor—remnants of the snow shaken off by the happy furry beasts. He says nothing for a few long minutes, merely taking in your form, the sweet smell, and the cozy atmosphere. It feels like you belong here, even if just for a moment until you deem him deranged and leave again for long years.

“Crepes?” he asks finally, sliding off his heavy jacket. Will imprints on his memory the image of you so peaceful and comfortable in his home, in his presence.

You hum in response, sticking the fork back into your mouth. “I only found jam and peanut butter.”

“It’s an accomplishment you found anything at all.” He chuckles but isn’t truly amused by it—it is a pitiful sound.

The brunet disappears into the kitchen, and when he returns, his plate is filled with food. He sits down in the other armchair with a heavy sigh—a sound so murky only an old man could make or someone so exhausted with life they didn’t see a point in it anymore.

“I believe you, you know?”

Will’s head shoots up in your direction; he almost chokes on his crepes. He didn’t foresee that at all—the thought of you believing him without even hearing his side of the story, believing in his conviction that Hannibal is the Chesapeake Ripper without even asking for evidence. When everyone around him considered him delusional and regarded his accusation with ignorance or anger—you believed him. He straightens up in his seat, looking at you expectantly, begging silently for you to continue.

“I suppose Jack didn’t tell you why exactly am I here, huh?” Will shakes his head, making you sigh deeply as you mindlessly stab the remaining crepe on your plate with the fork—he notices the anger simmering behind your irises. “Figured. They found my father’s killer in our old house.”

“Dead?”

You nod in confirmation.

“Suicide.” Your voice isn’t relieved; it doesn’t incandesce with light like it should.

Will knows that sometimes, even when the murderer is caught or killed, it takes a while to really settle into witnesses’ minds, and sometimes, they never taste that sweetness of relief for the rest of their lives. Yet, it doesn’t seem to be the problem in your case.

“He was missing a lot of blood and it didn’t appear to be anything abnormal back then so they considered the case solved. Let us come out of hiding.”

“Except it wasn’t a suicide,” the man finishes your thought. He’s right—like always. “Someone wanted you to come back… The real killer?”

He looks at you for confirmation, but his idea seems to be too facile—child’s play. If that were the case, the FBI wouldn’t let you stay with him without protection—unless they considered him your protector. Something feels off about it.

“Will, my sister was killed by the Chesapeake Ripper.”

Will stares at you with his eyes wide open. He’s looking at your face in a way that he’s never looked before. He can finally see you, your emotions, and despair—the mask you hid them under shatters into crumbs and floats away with his shaky breath. He hears the misery in your voice now—almost sees your winsome heart smashed into a million pieces inside your chest.

“I’m so sorry… I—” Will’s words are automatic as he processes your statement. He stays perfectly still in his armchair. “I didn’t—”

“What’s done is done, Will,” you interrupt him, shaking your head—a silent plea that he doesn’t blame himself for it. It doesn’t help—he still does.

The moment you stop talking, he can hear the faint ticking of the watch on your wrist. He looks at you, waiting for more to come, but you stay silent. Your eyes linger on your plate with a half-eaten crepe—the jam spilling out onto the white ceramic canvas; you seem to be contemplating something.

He remembers back on that stormy night when you came home at the end of a particularly complicated and brutal investigation—soaked and chilled to the bone. You had a small cut on your arm, not big enough to require stitches, but he wanted—no, he needed—to clean it up and kiss it all better, anyway.

Will could tend to a cut on your skin, but he couldn’t scour the one on your soul—he couldn’t kiss it all better. He always felt the need to fix things—fix you. Now? He has no idea how to take that pain away from you.

He knows he should be glad to see you—glad to see you again. But right now, there’s only sadness, confusion, and guilt because, somehow, this isn’t quite you. There has been this beautiful, bright light shining from you, but it’s missing, and the man feels the loss of it inside. He wants to reach out and take this sadness away from you, comfort you, and bring back that light you always had. He almost wants to cry—he doesn’t even know why himself.

Will swallows hard and finally speaks, voice shaking, “Can I ask you something?”

He hesitates as if afraid of the potential answer. The only thing keeping him from sinking into emptiness is your presence, and asking the wrong question might have a devastating effect. Will looks at you—eyes pleading for understanding.

“Yes. Of course…”

“What did he take?” He almost doesn’t recognize his voice. It seems to be a mere whimper—a noise buried deep within a wounded animal’s throat.

“Her heart.”

Your words strike him like a bullet. Will closes his eyes, trying hard to keep the salty water from filling them. The loss of one heart was unbearable, losing another one physically… He tries to find a reason not to be angry at fate—but there is none. The world gave you back to him, but at what cost?

He reaches out, taking your hand in his. His touch seems reassuring and gentle, but his eyes betray his anger. “I never should have let you leave...”

You ignore his words, looking into the void, and continue, “Her lungs.”

Another cruel twist of the dagger in his gut. He feels your hand squeeze his, almost as if it were asking for comfort. Yet, Will cannot be a comfort at this moment—he is too enraged at the thought of such brutality.

His gaze turns cold as stone, his hand tightening around yours as he holds back the emotions boiling up inside him, threatening to explode and tear everything apart. His eyes remain closed—unwilling to see any more of your pain. You can feel the anger radiating from him like heat.

If she stops breathing, my heart will stop with it—those were his words to Hannibal. Another therapy session he now deeply regrets. It is his fault—his fault that your sister died. And amongst all the hatred, anger, and remorse, he feels a bone-chilling relief that it wasn’t you in her place.

He knows it’s twisted to think like that; he shouldn’t even feel like that, but he can’t imagine his life knowing you were buried deep—six feet beneath the earth he was walking on and still breathing. He doesn’t know whether it was Hannibal’s well-thought-through plan or his fucked up mistake, but Will is grateful.

You are breathing, alive, and your pulse is beating fast beneath his tight grasp. He does not want to let go of it—not yet.

Will opens his eyes, still unable to see your face, yet so very relieved. He doesn’t let go of your hand, his fingers running over your knuckles as if, by touch, he can somehow reassure himself that you weren’t his imagination.

The anger inside him still roils, but he no longer shows it. The only hint of his discomfort is the tightness with which he holds your hand.

“I won’t let anything happen to you,” he mumbles out, almost inaudible.

“No, Will, I won’t let anything happen to you.” You meet his gaze, your eyes almost begging. “I can’t lose you too. You’re the only one I have left.”

Will smiles at you sadly. His eyes filled with a strange light, his fingers running through your hair. Your plates have been long forgotten on the nearby windowsill as he leans forward and carefully touches your cheek, running his forefinger across your lips and down to your chin.

At first, you think the gesture is affectionate—intimate. But then you notice that he’s trying to remember your every feature. It’s painful to think that someone who loved you so dearly might have forgotten your face, the feel of your skin under his touch. Maybe it’s this thought that makes your eyes well up with tears; maybe it is the gesture itself. Or possibly even both.

This moment feels so real, so raw—you are tempted to believe in it, to be hopeful for your future, at least for a moment. But after all you went through, you know that hope is a dangerous thing, and it can turn against you. It’s been so long since all your hopes have been crushed you almost forgot how to have them... And just like that, the moment vanishes, and reality crashes back.

Later that night, when you come out of the shower and crawl into his bed—your clothes sticking to the slightly damp skin, your hair in an unruly mess—he simply opens his arms.

“You claim to be my friend, yet you sleep in my bed like a lover would,” he says—he still remembers the words you whispered to him when the roles were reversed.

Will smiles at the irony, his arms wrapping around you. Your hair is still dripping, the water sliding down your neck and onto his chest. It trickles down in rivulets to his stomach, creating wet spots on his shirt, but he doesn’t seem to care.

You notice his grip is tighter than usual, yet you feel no pain, no discomfort. If he wanted to hurt you, he would. But you’re safe here—in his arms. Safer than you’ve ever been.

“Don’t pretend you don’t love having me in your bed,” you mumble against his neck, your minty breath tickling his skin.

His body shivers, and a soft sound escapes his lips. Your words remind him of the years of loneliness, of his body yearning for your touch. The sound is almost a whimper, and you feel his fingers twining in your wet hair.

The feeling is intoxicating. For years, he couldn’t touch a woman, didn’t even dream about having one so close to his skin, couldn’t feel someone’s body pressed tightly against him in a bed because they weren’t you—they dimmed in comparison. He missed it; he missed this connection, this skin-to-skin contact.

His hand lingers in your hair, the other one tracing your skin, exploring every inch of it, memorizing every imperfection, every bump beneath his palm.

“You haven’t been with anyone else, have you?” It’s not really a question—more of a sure statement—because, after all, you know Will like the back of your hand.

His head shakes, and both of his hands now run down your body. Will takes his sweet time exploring every inch of you—your hips, thighs, your stomach, and neck.

“I haven’t,” he whispers, almost embarrassed. As if his body belongs to someone else, and giving it to you now is a betrayal of that person.

Betrayal of you—the one he once knew—because he’s not entirely sure you’re still the same person. You were always so cheerful and full of life before—anything you touched, growing wings, flying out of the confines of its cage.

He yearns for this contact, craves a woman’s body—craves your body. He touches your skin, lightly running his fingertips over it, trying to bring back the memories from before. Will’s mind spins, trying to place the puzzle of you in the present.

He holds your face, trying to remember the way your eyes shined, the smile on your lips, the way your hair used to look. The feeling of your body, skin to skin, is almost painful. Your lips are so close, your heart beating so fast…

Winston jumps onto the bed, the weight and heat of his furry body on your calves makes you both pull away hesitantly.

“Sorry,” you mumble out the apology into the stillness of the air.

Will looks at you with a soft smile and a faint blush on his cheeks. “It’s fine.” He glances over at the dog. “What’s the matter, little fella? Can’t sleep?” He reaches over to pet the dog, then he turns his attention back to you.

The atmosphere changes completely, filled with the sounds of the night and Winston’s heavy breathing. Yet, although your physical proximity to Will has changed, you still feel connected to him in a way that only two people who are truly close can. The warmth of Winston’s body seems to melt the tension.

The dog snuggles up against you both, the three of you creating your own little world of peace. Will is the first to speak, “I’d rather be in bed with you only,” he sends you a smirk, “but I would still get the same amount of hair on my clothes.”

You feel your lips part in a grin; your breath catches in your throat, and it takes a moment before you’re able to answer his playful jab.

Will catches you in this moment of surprise as if he can smell your anticipation in the air. His hands wrap around your waist, dragging you closer until your bodies are pressed snugly once more.

When he smiles at you, it’s as if the world stops briefly. Your eyes lock, and for a second, there is nothing else but the two of you.

“It’s a sad thing your smile is so rare,” you whisper, your fingers tracing his stubbled jaw.

Will's heart pounds in his chest. He takes your hand in his, running his fingers along your skin. There's always been an undeniable spark between you, but this time, it feels different, more intense. Like if you let yourself go and let the spark ignite, the fire will burst out of your chest.

Will leans closer to you; your noses are almost touching. His brown eyes are so close you can see every detail in them despite the darkness of the room. You can feel the tension in the air, and you know what would break it...

“Will, I... I can’t—” You stumble over your words, gaze parting from his.

Your stutter is cut short by Will’s lips touching yours. A soft sound escapes him as if he’s been waiting for you to stop speaking so he can taste you. His tongue slips over your lips, exploring your mouth.

This is not the clumsy, almost animalistic lust he had for you in the past—it’s something different. Something tender, almost sweet.

Your hands fall limply onto the duvet, your heart beating faster, your breath catching in your throat as you sink deeper into the kiss. You don’t want this to end… So you pull him closer.

Seemingly annoyed by the nonstop movement, Winston jumps off the bed and retreats to his place by the lit-up fireplace. You almost giggle at that, but you’re far too busy with kissing Will’s lips raw.

Your hands find their way onto his neck next, your fingers running through his curls. With lips almost glued to his, you pull him back every time he tries to move.

The sound of your heavy breathing is enough to make his heart pound in his chest as if his very blood is racing. He’s holding you so tightly you fear you might break. Will breathes in the smell of you, almost intoxicated by it. Your scent enriches him—sends his emotions into a whirlwind.

After a moment, he manages to pull away, gasping for breath. He is still holding you, hands pressed against your back, as if not wanting to let go. Will tries to catch his breath—it feels like his entire life is contained in those few moments.

His eyes find yours, looking for some reassurance, as if he expects to wake up from a dream any moment now. He opens his mouth to say words but can’t find any. All he can do is look at you, so beautiful in the darkness. Will closes his eyes as if trying to cling to this moment.

“I’m glad I’m back. Despite the circumstances...” Your fingers play with his curls, your breath just as shaky as his.

“You’re back...” Will murmurs, looking at you relieved, touching your face as if to make sure you’re still here. He wants to speak, to tell you everything that is going through his mind, but when he opens his mouth again, no words come out. He tries to collect himself—tries to bring his heart to your level.

“It’s been a long time... We should probably talk. You know, just to catch up.”

“You like talking now?” Your grin is electrifying, it sends heat down the man’s body. But when he notices it doesn’t reach your eyes, his neediness crumbles.

A veil of insecurity falls over his face. “No… I don’t like talking. But I still do it if I have to, so can we just…” Will gestures to the two of you, the room—just a sign of exasperation and need to do this now. He swallows hard, trying to find his voice. “It’s just... it’s been a long time. And I... you know... there is just a lot that happened.”

“Will,” the way you say his name halts him, “it’s okay if you want to talk.”

He blinks slowly, suddenly confused—why did he even try to lie about it? Hannibal gave him his voice and showed him the power of his words—the good one and the evil one.

Will lets out a deep breath and then closes his eyes. It’s always been hard for him to tell people how he feels. Especially when he wants to say more than any amount of words can describe—and there is a lot to describe. There is so much he has to tell you, and yet when he tries to form the words—to get them out—his mind goes blank.

He opens his eyes and looks at you for help, but you look just as confused as before. “I don’t even know where to begin,” he says softly. “So much has changed.”

“You haven’t. Not as much as you think you did.”

He sees the impossibly black creature in his peripheral vision. It stands behind you, completely still, and its antlers seem much more massive than ever before when he catches their shadow falling onto you. He wants it to be gone so badly, but deep inside, he knows it’ll never vanish if Hannibal is still alive, and maybe even after his death, he’ll never get his peace back.

“Your opinion will change quicker than you realize.”

The creature’s still there, Will looks it straight into its void of color eyes. It’s just in his mind, yet the shiver that runs down your spine tells him you might feel its presence, too. He hates that he can’t tell if it’s his imagination or not or if you can indeed see it, too. A feeling of dread seizes him, a cold sensation that runs up his arms and into his bones.

“Hannibal...” he whispers, but when he looks around the room, he sees no sign of the creature. The sense of dread lingers, nevertheless.

“The Chesapeake Ripper?” you question, and he tells you all about it. All about Hannibal’s mind games—what he did to him and then what he undid.

Will tells you about the therapy sessions, his transformation, and the darkness that took hold of him. He talks about his memories of your sister, about his guilt, and then he moves on to you—your absence and the reason why you left. The void he felt for all those dark years without you—until he was given the chance to have you back, a light guiding him back into reality. And you listen carefully to all of it; you let him speak his heart out until he no longer feels the need to speak.

When he is done telling you everything, Will falls silent. It feels like he laid bare his soul, exposing his most intimate thoughts, yet you still lie in front of him, unchanged. He looks at you, almost expecting you to leave. After all, how much can a person handle? But your gaze is still strong; you still care about him at least a little…

It’s almost as if you’re reading his mind. “I still care about you, Will. My feelings never changed and they never will. I’ll do anything I can to help you get him.”

His eyes soften at your words, and he closes the distance between you two. Slowly he kisses your lips, tasting your breath, feeling his mouth move against yours. The sensation is so intense that it almost sends sparks through Will’s body.

“I’ve missed this,” he whispers into your ear before he turns your head and kisses you again. His hands rest on your back, pulling you in even closer as his tongue dances against yours. “And I’ve missed you. So goddamn much...”

Will pulls away, breathless, as if his entire body is aflame. He looks at you, studying your face so intently it’s almost as if he wants to burn your image into his brain. “So much,” he repeats softly.

He rests his head against yours, breathing in the sound of your heartbeat, listening to the rise and fall of your chest. “You’re here. You’re really here.” He exhales a sigh of relief as if your presence is the sweetest gift he could have ever wished for.

[midnightloversmusic]

Ruined Movie Dates ✧.*

James Potter x Reader

Hurt/Comfort

“Did you think I would have been mad? because i’m not mad, honestly I don’t think I could ever be mad at you even now when you hide yourself in a bathroom to avoid me helping you when you are hurt, I can never be mad.”

masterlist

————————————————————————

You are currently hiding from James in the bathroom.

It’s not like you want to be hiding from James, you want to be cuddled up in his arms watching a movie right about now as you had planned yesterday, but here you are with a black eye hiding in your bathroom as you hear James letting himself into your apartment.

It really wasn’t your fault it’s not like you prompted this person to punch you, she mistaked you for the girl who slept with her girlfriend and that’s fair.

but god does it hurt like an absolute bitch.

And all you know is that James can not know about this. Your sweet, kind, lovely, caring boyfriend would flip the absolute fuck out if he saw that you had a black eye.

in a loving and concerned way of course but, how exactly are you going to hide it from him when he’s literally in your apartment right now for a movie date?

you have absolutely no idea.

“Love?”

you hear James call from the entry way

“I’m just in the bathroom i’ll be out in a sec!”

fuck.

you usually keep your makeup in a drawer under the sink but as you open it is you realize you left your foundation in your purse yesterday when you were running late to work. Now you really have to option but to kick James out and wait until your eye heals to see him again.

“Um James can you come here please?” you ask in a small voice

you hear his footsteps come from the kitchen up until the door and you open the door a crack so that he can’t see your bruised eye

“I’m really not feeling good tonight and I know it’s a little late to cancel seemingly as you’re already in my apartment but I hope you’ll understand when I ask you to please go?”

he stands there silently staring at you, evaluating you, looking right into your soul, and stealing all the thoughts from your brain.

how dare he.

“If you really are feeling unwell and want me to go, I will but I don’t mind getting sick and I would rather take care of you, if you’ll let me?”

and shit. When he talks in that sickly sweet voice it’s really fucking hard to lie to him.

“Jamie I appreciate the offer but I just really need you to go-“

as you are as politely as possible asking him to remove himself from the premises of your apartment complex he shifts his position allowing him to see just a little further into the bathroom. Just enough to see your absolutely fucked eye.

“Baby what happened?”

All the sudden his concerned look gets ten times worse. his eyebrow scrunches more and is frown deepens and he opens the door to grab your chin and examine your eye.

without the stress of trying to hide from james you can finally feel the throbbing pain in your eye and you really wish you had sneaked an ice pack before you scurried into hiding

“lovie you have to tell me what happened”

you just whine.

he lightly brushes his finger over the bruise and you wince

“sorry”

“it’s okay” you say taking a deep breath

“This girl mistaked me for the girl her girlfriends been cheating on her with but it’s not her fault because she showed me a picture and we do look exactly the same I mean I was wondering if i was secretly adopted and had a twin that I didn’t know about-“

and now youre rambling and it doesn’t seem to be soothing james’ pitying expression

“ Love why didn’t you call me immediately? I would have been there in an instant. Did you think I would have been mad? because i’m not mad, honestly I don’t think I could ever be mad at you even now when you hide yourself in a bathroom to avoid me helping you when you are hurt, I can never be mad.”

“i’m sorry I just didn’t want to make it a big deal”

“it is a big deal, you’re hurt, cmon love let’s go get an ice pack that must hurt”

and he scooped you up into his arms as if it was your legs that were hurt and carried you the couch as he grabbed an ice pack

you can’t lie, there are much worse things than being taken care of by james. much much worse.

[absolutebl]

This Week in BL - It's odd rn but VERY PRETTY

Organized, in each category, with ones I'm enjoying most at the top.

Oct 2024 Week 1

Ongoing Series - Thai

Jack & Joker (Thai Mon IQIYI) ep 4 of 12 - I love Joke so much! And I love War in this role so much. It’s great. This is a great show it’s such fun. The comedy is somewhat leaving me flat. But that’s normal for me in this kind of Thai BL. I also like Hope. I shouldn’t, but I do. I love the little girl character as well, and I do believe that Joke has found his scion in her.

(As per usual the grandma of this BL speaks for all of us.)

Kidnap (Fri YT) ep 5 of 12 - Coils be coiling. Mummy dearest is v hot. I do like the twist on the henchmen. It would’ve been really gut-wrenching if Q had put the rope around his own wrist the night that he slept by himself (or tried to). And they have now made "the promise that is destined to be broken" waves at trope. Meanwhile, great flirting. Next week being episode six we should be getting our kiss.

(Was GMMTV gently poking at Jack & Joker with that play-within-a-play reference to Jack as Min's stunt part?)

Fourever You (Thai Thurs YT) ep 1 of 16 - Sampler pack university BL from Wabi Sabi that's trying to be a gay Boys Over Flowers (4 older med student hot boys + frosh) and it’s exactly what I want right now. Is it good? No, not really. Do I care? Not at all. It is, in fact, boys over flowers... only boys no flowers. I really couldn’t want anything more than that. What can I say? I’m easy. I love a pining seme. I guess what I am saying is, I am trash for trash. Inject this shit directly into my eyeballs.

Love Sick 2024 (Thai Sun iQIYI) ep 3 of 15 - At least in this version they talk bit more with each other about what’s going on. (Then again in the original we didn't need it, the acting was so good.) Still it’s a lot more modern to see representation of communication, but but the previous version felt more honest to teen behavior. This open communication entirely changes the push pull dynamic of Phun & Noh's whole relationship. I actually LIKE that change because it makes it very different from the original. I’ve been hoping that this one would veer in a different direction. I'm enjoying that they've made it Phun with the long term crush, and that he’s sort of testing himself with heterosexuality. It is selfish, but it is also a very rich kid thing to do. I love the shouted confessions and the decision to not date. This is a really good twist on the original. I’m liking this a hell of a lot more now that it’s substantially changed in direction, if not in tone.

Monster Next Door (Thai Thurs Gaga ) ep 11 of 12 - It’s very sweet and wholesome. And everyone kisses pretty. And I do like the communication and green flag aspects of this show. But I'm also finding it a touch dull. 

Battle of the Writers (Sun YT) ep 9 of 12 - I don’t know. The pretending to be blind thing is weird. This whole show is weird. I’m kinda weirded out by it. I like the two side couples well enough, but we get barely any time with them at all.

I Saw You in My Dream (Weds Gaga) ep 12 fin - I like that they did come around to the dreaming thing as a major plot point in the end. Even though it felt like they forgot about it in the middle. And I liked that it was an inherited family trait. I didn’t expect that (should have, but I didn't). And I thought it suited this kind of drama, even if it was a little pat. The whole family helping at the very end was very sweet and a nice full circle for the narrative. (Like the Ae's family sort of adopting the next-door kids originally. 

Summation

A cute friends to lovers romance, that’s a little bit like the stepbrothers trope since these two grow up next-door to each other and in and out of each other’s lives. The paranormal element is about prophetic dreams, and it is threaded through the narrative even if it gets somewhat lost in the muddy middle. All in all, a sweet fun little series with decent chemistry. 8/10

Addicted Heroin (Thai Tues WeTV) ep 8 of 10 - I've totally forgotten what’s going on. There was another kidnapping. Maybe they’re actually dating now? I don’t know. Honestly, it won’t really matter cause everything will change by the end of this episode... again. That said, I did love the parental confrontation sequence. It’s not as good as in the original because it’s a lot more direct and modernized, but it was pleasingly aggressive. Which I weirdly appreciated for the military angle. The cross-dressing thing was odd. The dolls advertising thing is even odder. Jealous baby on sports day was good though.

Bad Guy My Boss (Thai Sun Gaga) ep 3 of 10 - Why did I feel like I’ve seen this entire episode already. It’s just different characters saying the same thing to the main characters or flirting the same way or whatever. 

Live in Love (Sun Gaga) ep 5 fin - I did not like this ep at all. Fully half of it was evil backstabbing and some bullying and some sort of trying to engender sympathy for a friendship betrayal. And I was not on board. (Wouldn’t mind seen Hali and that cute kid in something together tho.) 

Conclusion

Basically this was a story about online relationships and how they interface with the real world, and in personal friendships, plus bullying of all types and some backstabbing and shipping. The acting was weak, the sound was terrible, and generally it was an old style pulp offering. It tried to deal with some interesting issues, but was awfully clumsy about it. 5/10 

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

Sugar Dog Life (Japan Sun grey) ep 9 fin - Such a great confession, so truthful and earnest and honest. And he’s also like that with his friends. And such a nice answer. I love that during the cool off they both realize how very much they both act like are boyfriends to each other all the time. Ooo running of the gays! And we even got a cute little smile kiss!!!! and an adorable boyfriend montage at the end. How unexpectedly satisfying of you, Japan!

Summation 

This is a phenomenally charming and adorable little romance about a forlorn university kid and the police officer who adopts him. They are relentlessly kind to each other, in fact it’s an extremely kindly show over all (everyone in it is so nice to everyone else including us) so there’s very little tension. But what it lacks in drive and complexity it makes up for in earnest acts of service and simple affection. These two are basically boyfriends from the get-go, it’s just one of them acts like it and doesn’t realize it and the other one realizes it and has to figure out how to make it a reality. It’s incredibly sweet and incredibly wholesome, nourishing but delicious. Everybody who can should watch this show. It will make you feel better about life. 

Easy 9/10 on this one from me.  

GO WATCH IT  

Teenager Judge (Vietnam Sat YT) ep 2 of ? - We have some semblance of a plot! Yay! Our BV tsundere character is secretly an online judge who whistleblows and exposes corruption in the school system. How very Pump Up the Volume. I am not mad about it. Also 2 of the prettiest seme bullies EVER. The epic pout-off with these bad boys. Be still my heart.

Our Golden Times (Hong Knong ??? YT) 1-4 of ? - Billed as a BL from Hong Kong I’m not sure we can trust this one to a get finished or be cohesive or have an HEA. But the optics are good. Everybody’s very pretty. It’s chaotic and clumsy and a little odd. But most of the stuff on my dash is these days, so what the hell? And ya know what, I kinda like it.

Love is Like a Poison AKA Doku Koi: Doku mo Sugireba Koi to Naru (Japan Tues Netflix?) 4 of 10 eps - It remains entertaining but off kilter in that way that indicates 50% chance of ultimate dissatisfaction in the JBL pantheon. 

First Note Of Love (Taiwan Mon Gaga) ep 9 of 12 - I wish we knew a little bit more about Sea's background/family. Neil should just tell him what the hell is going on. Why wouldn’t he? Instead they artificially wedged the main couple apart for most of this episode and Orca wasn’t there at all? = Not a good episode IMHO.

It's airing but...

My Damn Business (Korea Sat ????) 7 eps - supposedly airing on Saturdays starting 10/5 have no roleand I found the trailer but nothing else.

The Hidden Moon (Sat WeTV) ep 1 of 10 - This is a supernatural romance (my ghost boyfriend trope) by Violet Rain (I Feel You Linger). A man is hired to write an article about an old mansion in Chiang Mai being converted into a café. He sees the ghosts of people who died at the mansion, falls in love with one of them. Was substantially recast. I loved IFYLITA except the ending so I think I'll let this one run it's course you can tell me if it's work tracking down... if they managed to land it. I have my doubts.

Next Week Looks Like This:

Upcoming BLs for 2024 are listed here. This list is not kept updated, so please leave a comment if you know something new or RP with additions.

Coming Oct 2024:

10/7 Every You Every Me (Thai Mon Gaga) 10 eps - Jade and Chin have lived over a thousand lifetimes. In each one they somehow manage to fall in love with each other. (This pair, TopMick was piloted in a My Universe ep, that was one of the only ones I liked.)

10/10 Eccentric Romance (Korea Thurs Viki & Gaga) 12 eps - Silkwood’s 2nd Thai/Korean colab, that has been in production since 2022 which is a LONG time in the BL world. I'm worried but I like the concept: friends of 10 years who’ve been hiding feelings for each other enter the same university. Plus MURDER.

10/10 Gangster and His Boyfriend (Korea Thurs ????) 8 eps? - Kim Dong Bin (famous trainee & idol reality competitor, yeah that happens) stars as a fallen idol who unexpectedly becomes entangled in a gangster family. Discovers that his friend’s father is responsible for the murder of his entire family years ago. I don't know much about this one, neither does anyone else and I'm not sure where I got that release date so……

10/21 Love in the Big City (Korea ????) 8 eps - Okay both a movie (already out) and a series. Neither one is likely BL and I can't imagine it will end happily. I'm giving both a pass but here's your synopsis.

Cynical fun loving student Young pinballs from home, to class, to on night stands. He and Jaehee, his female besie and roommate, frequent nearby bars where they push away their worries about life, love, and money with soju and hookups.

10/23 See Your Love (Taiwan Gaga Viki) 10 eps? - Zi Xiong, a third-generation heir, attempting to flee from taking over their family business, meets and falls in love with Shao Peng, who works as a hearing-impaired nurse. From the same production house as Kiseki Dear To Me in partnership with Shinehouse Theatre, funded by Taiwan’s BIGART + Japan's Rakuten (Viki). Show includes Lin Chia Yo (Be Loved in House: I Do). Director Chiang Ping Chen’s childhood experiences with his deaf uncle have inspired the drama.

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENTS

I kinda love it when someone else does the prophetic claiming. Our Golden Times

Crumbs in Summer Nights but they very cute crumbs. We didn't even really get to see them get together but I'm glad that they are.

(Last week)

Streaming services are listed by how I (usually) watch, which is with a USA based IP, and often offset by a day because time zones are a pain.

The tag BLigade: @doorajar @solitaryandwandering @my-rose-tinted-glasses @babymbbatinygirl @babymbbatinygirl @isisanna-blog @mmastertheone @pickletrip @aliceisathome @urikawa-miyuki @tokillamonger @sunflower-positiiivity @rocketturtle4 @blglplus @anythinggoesintheshire @everlightly @renafire @mestizashinrin @bl-bam-beyond @small-dark-and-delicious @saezurumurmurs

Sigh, Tumblr in its infinite wisdom doesn't like too many at-ings.

[babyjinsu]

good mother

pairing ; sungchan x fem!reader || wc ; 2.9k

warning ; angst, pregnancy themes (nothing explicit. you and sungchan just want children), infertile reader, not proofread nor edited, reader wants to kill herself (mentioned once), wrote this at 1 am because i can't get it out of my head.

when you first met sungchan, the ideology of soulmate suddenly just made sense to you. 

when sungchan first met you, his soul kinda just went, where have you been all my life?

they say soulmates are two hearts that beat in time, and that whatever happens, they are bound to be together. 

——

when you first found out that you were unable to conceive, the doctor’s voice faded into a low hum of nothing—like the world had stopped spinning around its orbits and taken a step back to give you space to break quietly. 

the moment the words i’m sorry—left the doctor’s mouth; everything had become deafen and muted. you couldn't remember what happened after that. what sungchan said to her, what she replied—you just remembered nodding politely and thanking her and apologising for wasting her time and energy. and then you remembered sungchan walking you back to the parking lot with his hand around the small of your back.

you remembered sitting in the passenger seat with your hands still folded in your lap, your thumb brushing against the other, then down—absentmindedly tracing a small circle over your lower stomach as if trying to coax something to life.

like maybe, if you were gentle enough, something might stir. you might feel a little kick, or a gentle swirling of a little life inside. some secret softness in your body might finally speak up and say, “mommy, i’m here,”

so you did that for weeks after the appointment. quiet little circles in the dark, in a crowded room, in the shower, beneath the cover, in the kitchen—that maybe, if you want it enough, you could summon a little heartbeat.

did you cry on the way back home from the clinic? 

sungchan drove with one hand on the wheel and the other resting gently on your knee. his thumb brushing against your soft skin in reassurance and comfort, like he was trying to keep you tethered—that a happy family doesn’t require a child. he doesn’t want a child if it’s not with you. and that he was okay with only being a husband. 

you couldn’t remember when the thought of having a baby became everything to you. maybe it was the way you were raised—raised full of love to be a lovely person—maybe it was on your 16th birthday, when your auntie brought her newborn daughter and everyone crowded around the tiny bundle. she got more attention than the birthday girl herself but it made you realise that there might be a joy even greater than being sixteen. 

maybe it was when you met sungchan—that being a mother to his child was all you’ve ever wanted.

maybe that was the moment, or maybe it came later. 

not like it mattered anymore.

sometimes before sungchan let himself dozed off, his mind wandered back to one of your couple dates (before you were married) where a little boy no older than seven, came up to you and told you that his parents were nowhere to be found. 

you had comforted him, wiped his tears and snots with your thumbs, held his little hand as the two of you wandered around the butterfly park—searching for his parents. when sungchan offered to carry him, the little boy was more than happy to nod. one of his arms draped around sungchan’s neck, and the other was still holding your hand. 

the look on your face when the boy was reconciled with his parents in front of the customer service counter confirmed sungchan’s desire to have a family with you.

——

sungchan’s mother’s cries were a lot louder than yours the day you found out you’ll never be granted a mini-him. 

you hadn’t meant to eavesdrop that night you slept over your in-laws’. the house was still, save for the muffled hum of voices drifting through the hallway. you curled up in sungchan’s bedroom, eyes wide open in the dark, mind tangled in the weight of the news you’d just received—and sungchan’s parents' words. 

“i can’t lose my chance to see a grandchild. you promised me, sungchan. you promised me a grandchild—i’m not getting younger! i could be dead tomorrow!”

you curled your knees to your chest, burying your face in the pillow to stifle your own sobs. like a knife twisting as you heard her grief, desperation, and plead that she didn’t try to hide—all you could do was listen. 

you realised that it was never about you. the inability to foster a being in the fruit of your womb—to give her what she wanted had never been about you. you know sungchan’s mother adore you, but expectations ran deeper than bond. 

your husband never brought it up to you. you doubted he even knew that you knew. the rest of the months went by like normal, at least you pretended they were. sungchan still made dinner for two, still kissed you goodnight and shared intimacy under the sheets, still kissed you goodbye before leaving for work. 

you hadn’t told him that you heard either. didn’t tell him how you felt hearing his mother’s voice break with desperate pleas of wanting a grandchild. wanting to know how her son’s face would morph into another. you never told him how it ate at you inside out and alive, every single time she smiled at you with that pity look in her face, how her glances at you weren’t on your face, but your stomach. 

he didn’t know that every single time you saw a baby, you wanted to kill yourself. dig your nails in the centre of your stomach, rip it open, and gut yourself out. 

——

the night sungchan came home to nothing—the earth stopped rotating around the sun.

he called your name from the doorway like he always did. but tonight, the house was eerily still, save for your golden retriever greeting sungchan with his tongue sticking out. he called your name again—maybe you had gone to bed early. 

he dropped his keys into the bowl on the console table by the door and went upstairs to check on his wife. but there was no you on the bed. they were neat and made and tidy—and your clothes on your side of the closet were empty—nothing but hangers—so were your essentials, makeup, and toiletries, and your accessories. 

except for your wedding ring on the vanity.

it was the only thing left of you, and framed pictures on the wall.

nobody knew where you were. not if you were still alive or dead—countless missing person reports were made by him and your family but they dismissed it as nothing, runaway. you’re not sixteen anymore. 

you were gone for years—two, maybe three, or was it four? time had a way of slipping past when you were no longer part of sungchan’s. the world outside continued to move for him, even if you weren’t there to witness it. 

when the time came, the court grounded the divorce. 

his family said it was necessary—a formality. legal requirements. you couldn’t be found, and they declared it was a case of abandonment. although sungchan knew better that you would never. you could never. not his wife. 

he wasn’t present in the courtroom. he couldn’t be—not while the only thing he had ever wanted in his world was crumbling. 

the legal document, signed in your absence, was the final stamp: divorce granted. 

——

the first few months after getting married to the girl of his dreams, you had told him in a fleeting moment that you’d be a good mother. sungchan agreed in a heartbeat. you had become his wife, and his second dearest fantasy was to grow a lovechild in you.

one that would be raised full of love and tenderness. a son, sungchan wanted. a son so he has a buddy to play football with. a little boy so he can spend boys' nights together and educate him to be a good man. a son who would carry on his legacy, not just in name, but in the way he looked after loved ones.

a son who after sungchan’s passing would always be there to watch over his wife.

you told him you wanted a daughter. a little girl to play dress up with, dress her up in frilly dresses and white bows. to brush and braid her hair a hundred times before tucking her to bed with her jellycat bunny. to whisper secrets to as the two of you sat under the soft glow of her nightlight.

you wanted a daughter who would remind you of the warmth of love in its purest form. a daughter who would have sungchan’s smile and doe eyes (although he’d much prefer if she has your smile instead), who would have your laughter and qualities. 

a daughter to show and teach her kindness—to fill her life with the same tenderness and love that had been showered upon you. to give her motherly love like no other. 

sungchan said you’d be an amazing mother, that it doesn’t matter if your lovechild is a girl or a boy, as long as it was yours, the two of you. 

——

the countryside was a lot harsher and meaner. old, traditional folks who didn’t know your story were quick to remind you of the ticking clock—settle down, quick. before you lose your value. before men stop looking at you.

get married now before your fertility declines, and you can’t get pregnant anymore.

your grandmother never told them the truth. the truth that fertility wasn’t even a thing inside of you. and it had long since been impossible for you to bear a child. 

she hid you away in her little country home with the help of your uncle’s money, for nine long years—almost ten—she sheltered you from the world, comforted you that a woman’s happiness is not only her child, but herself. reassured you that there was something even better and greater than a baby waiting for you. 

sometimes it worked, but most of the time—beneath the weight of what couldn’t be, you couldn’t help but think of what it's like to have a daughter.

that you never had the chance to be a mother at all.

——

sungchan never stopped thinking of you even when he remarried.

he realised long after your absence that the swing moves to a rhythm his hands don’t command despite his aching and pale knuckles. that he’s not able to control fate and destiny.

he tried to build a new life—one that wasn’t defined by your silence and the years of unspoken goodbye and explanation. 

in the quiet moments when his new wife would smile at him, and the soft laughter of his daughter filled the house, he still saw you in the kitchen making breakfast. when the three of them were out running errands and groceries, when his daughter’s little hand tugged on his shirt asking politely if she can have a pack of gummies—and his wife asking him which brand was better—he saw you with your eyes lingering on the babies clothes a second too long.

he has a daughter now, just like how the two of you had dreamed of—a little girl with his doe eyes—but at what cost? she has her mother’s smile and her soft curls. sungchan couldn’t see you in her. not your qualities nor your voice, not your little tantrums nor your sulking. 

he had the family you both once dreamed of, but the dream had shifted into something that didn’t include you.

——

“hey, whoa—where’s your parents?” sungchan frowned a little as he felt a gentle tug on the hem of his shirt. he looked down to see a little boy, maybe five or six, his eyes wide and red. “where are your parents?” he placed back the soup can on the shelf before crouching down to his level, his brow furrowed in concern. 

the little boy didn’t answer right away, sniffing and clutching on his shirt for dear life as he stared up at him with his tear-filled eyes. “i… i don’t know,” he sobbed, tiny body shaking. sungchan’s heart twisted painfully, his fatherly protective instincts kicking in. he reached out to place a gentle hand on the boy’s shoulder to offer comfort.

“you’re okay,” he murmured. “it’s okay… you’re safe. what’s your name?” he asked, his thumbs brushing over the boy’s shoulder joints. the boy hiccupped a sob as he wiped his cheeks with his sleeves. “ji—” 

“jinsu!” 

jinsu?

almost immediately, the boy turned around, his eyes lighting up. his face broke into something like a relief, legs moving frantically as he reached for the woman standing just a few feet away in the aisle. “mommy!” 

he wrapped his arms around the woman’s legs, his face buried into his mother’s skirt as he let out another round of sobs. 

sungchan’s world shifted. the woman wasn’t just anyone. she was you.

you crouched down to pull him into a tight embrace as his sobs now muffled against your sweater. 

sungchan stood there frozen, watching—his breath caught in his throat, heart racing as his eyes darted between the boy and you. after all these years,

you were exactly the same. like that morning before you left him. his pulse pounded in his ears as you wrapped your arms around your son, murmuring softly to calm him. his mind spun, thousand thoughts crashing together.

how could you be here? is he your son? where have you been—? married to who? the boy looks nothing like you. where did you go for ten long years? 

you still hadn’t realised sungchan there. 

“is yn with you?”

you finally looked up. the question that was not meant for you (but had your name in it,) broke through your haze. you met a woman’s face—a stranger—before you noticed sungchan was standing a few feet infront of you.  

“i told her to go to her daddy while i picked out some fruits.”

it came crashing down to the two of you like a meteor.

——

perhaps you and sungchan weren’t soulmates, but star-crossed lovers.

when the love between two people is doomed—by unfortunate circumstances—and their stars are not aligned in their favour. 

you adopted a son because that was what sungchan wanted. he prayed for a daughter because that was what you wanted. it was a cruel twist of fate, really.

neither of you had what you truly wanted.

💭 hii............ this was heavily inspired by not a lot, just forever! tbh i don't know what was in my head when i wrote this i just know i had to write it down somehow n post it somewhere lol. hope you guys enjoy ;(