#you used to live only there and now you live in your body
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andvys · 3 days ago
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The edges of your soul (I haven't seen yet) ⭐︎ Prologue
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⭐︎ When the sun hits, she’ll be waiting
Warnings: hurt/comfort, mentions of death, post apocalypse, grumpy!steve x sunshine!reader, gore, blood, mean!steve
Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader
Summary: Another patrol. Patrols he's been doing for a whole year, and nothing ever changes. Maybe he had to kill one demodog, or demobat, but overall, it was the same walk, the same stance, the same weariness… only this time, something new appeared in his walk.
Word count: 4.8k
Author's note: @hellfire--cult and I are back with another Steve series, I hope you're as excited as I am, you got a lot of angst, fluff and smut coming your way! And also, shoutout to @ghost-proofbaby who picked the title for this story, thank you my love
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☀︎
It was funny. 
He had watched apocalypse movies. He had seen the terrible visual effects done with strawberry syrup, the gelatin that exploded pretending to be brains and flesh, the people becoming zombies and doing loud and stupid moans in their chase. He knew the apocalypse would never look like that, but he also never believed he would live in something very much alike, and not at all a movie.
They had not defeated Vecna. They have killed him, but defeated? No. He is gone but he left behind the world he created, he reached his goal and got what he wanted, something that Steve and the others were very blind to at first, they watched him die; they burned his body to make sure that he was gone for good. They thought they won, but it was a false victory, one that gave them all the opportunity to recover, opportunities that included them trying to become a town again, yet after three months of what they thought was safe, the first demogorgon crawled out of the big gates that were created. Killed instantly. Then another. Then twenty. Then a hundred. Demogorgons, demobats, demodogs, and other upside down creatures... and this time, they came with infectious venom.
Venom that turned people into bloodthirsty, flesh eating monsters with nothing but death in their eyes, people turned into monsters who became part of Vecna’s army, crawling into homes and houses, spreading way too quickly and unable to be stopped from claiming not only the town but all of the country and soon the whole globe. 
They noticed when it was already too late, when the world was already too far gone and the lives of many were lost and claimed by darkness. 
When the realization started sinking in and he saw, felt the panic, the fear, the desperation, the dread and death, he felt like he was going to lose himself, knowing that the world he once knew was gone and never to be brought back again, that it was all lost and someday to be forgotten but a feeling he hadn’t noticed yet was acceptance. 
Because if anyone knew how to adapt, then it was him. Unlike many others, he had no home that he lost, he never had one in the first place. His parents' house was only ever a big lonely space that he never found comfort in until his friends filled that space with warmth and laughter, laughter that still echoes in his ears whenever he thinks of simpler times, laughter that he thinks he will never hear again. 
The house is now even emptier and colder than before, claimed by vines, dust and spider webs, just like most of the houses in Hawkins are… or the rest of the world. He passed familiar houses before, Dustin’s home and Lucas’s, he only glanced at them, not bearing to look longer, not wanting to feel, not wanting to look back at what he lost. 
The gun in his hand feels light, nothing like it used to feel the first few times he had to hold one or use one. His footsteps are barely audible as he walks through the empty cul-de-sac, eyes focused and eyebrows furrowed, he is on high alert, he always is, even when he doesn’t have to. 
He feels relaxed, despite the circumstances, despite the death that could be waiting around any corner, he feels relaxed. He walks past the abandoned cars and houses, watching out for any creature that could come crawling out from any hole. A lone plushie lies on the ground, dirty and splattered with blood – a sight that would have made him sick a year ago, thinking about whose blood it could’ve been, now makes him feel indifference. He had seen so many ugly, disturbing things, nothing truly fazes him anymore, it’s awful and sometimes he wonders if he is still a good person or if the horrors of this world have turned him into a monster as well, if the darkness had claimed him too like it had claimed the sick people. Sometimes he feels pain, sometimes he feels nothing but today he feels a sliver of sadness, one that he swallows down as quickly as it comes, he can’t stand it. 
The sun shines down on him but he barely feels the warmth even though it’s there, the light of it illuminates the empty road ahead of him, the chaos left behind, the rotten grass and the dead flowers, they don’t grow anymore, the birds don’t sing anymore, he wonders if there are even any left in this world, most have died, just like the ones he used to see every day, they have died. 
A soft huff falls from his lips when he notices that the laces on his boots have come undone, he stops walking and looks around, making sure that nothing and nobody will creep up on him the moment he kneels down, he would be surprised if something like that still happened around here though. Hawkins is empty of people and monsters, it was only the doorway for them to get through to get to the rest of the world, this place is just as abandoned as the houses are. 
The houses where his friends used to live. Where Lucas used to live. Dustin. The Wheelers. The Byers. That home that was lived in by other people last year. His house. Those remained intact, yet empty and filled with vines, darkness, dust of the memories from those who once lived in there. The only place that got swallowed whole was Forest Hills trailer park. Where Max used to live. Where Eddie used to live.
Placing the gun in his holster, he kneels down and reaches for the undone laces, wasting no second to tie them. His ears pick up on any sound, on the wind that howls through the bushes and the trees, through the broken windows, the bells that still hang from the ceilings on the empty porches. His eyes never stay focused on only the task before him, he is always ready to fight, to kill but it’s been a while since he had to use his gun or a machete, or even his bat. 
But today the hairs on his neck stand up for the first time in a while. Goosebumps arise on his skin and he feels it, a presence behind him. Steve swallows harshly, not knowing what to expect the moment he turns around, a demogorgon, a demodog or a sick one. He ties the knot on his boot, tightly. 
Unlike a few months before, he no longer feels fear whenever he is about to stare evil in it’s eyes, he no longer dreads it, he no longer feels his heart skipping or racing, he feels nothing anymore. 
He reaches for his gun and jumps to his feet, raising his arm and the gun, turning on his heel and aiming at the presence that lingered behind him, the one that would have normally lunged at him by now but it’s not a creature staring back at him nor is it a sick person, a sick person wouldn’t raise her arms up in surrender or step back in fear. 
“Hang on! I’m not bitten! I’m alive, I’m still alive!” Your voice is panicked, your eyes are too. 
Steve’s jaw is clenched, his eyes move up and down your body, taking in the state of your clothes first, no holes or tears in them, they are clean – clean for the end of the world. Your hair is tied, hanging down your shoulders in two braids, there are knives tucked into your belt and a gun in your thigh holster that you have no intent to reach for. You don’t look like a threat but Steve learned to not be deceived by appearances only. He eyes your exposed skin, where your flannel had slipped down your shoulder, exposing a wound, not a bite, not a scratch, only a cut that he can’t help but wonder how it got there or why. 
“Turning takes days,” Steve murmurs as he tears his gaze away from you for a second to scan the area around you two, who knows what you had dragged here or who. 
“I can sing Madonna for you?” 
He rolls his eyes as he looks back at you, for someone armed with knives and a glock 17 strapped to her thigh, you sure do look like a frightened cat, ready to run. You are not a threat. He knows it; he sees it; he feels it. He knows danger; you aren’t that. 
“You’re not bitten?” He asks as he lowers his gun, letting you relax again. 
You shake your head, though you can still see the hesitance in his eyes, the mistrust. 
“Do I–” you start innocently, blushing already as you look at the man before you, “do I need to get naked? If so, I’d prefer a woman, if that is possible.”
Steve’s eyes widen and he shakes his head quickly, ignoring the heat that rises in his cheeks. He puts his gun back in his holster. 
“Fuck, no, no… I believe you, what– what are you doing in the middle of Hawkins?” 
He sees the way your shoulders relax, the way you take a deep breath in and then out, lowering your arms to your sides. 
“I was in a small camp, a few towns away, and I’m trying to get to my old home… though, I got a bit lost cause a bat ripped my map out of my hands…” You frown. 
“Demobat.” 
You tilt your head to the side, furrowing your brows, “what?” 
Steve scrunches his nose up, shaking his head at himself, he keeps forgetting. 
“Nevermind.”
Your head is still tilted, your brows still furrowed, you look him up and down, no words fall from your lips, for a moment you are quiet. 
He grows a little flustered beneath your gaze, not that he would ever admit, you are just the first stranger he had encountered in a while, a stranger who creeped up on him. 
“You’re not very attentive.” 
Steve raises his eyebrows in surprise. 
“You only noticed me when I was already too close.”
He wants to laugh… a little. 
“Sounds like you were up to no good,” Steve retorts, glaring at you to which your eyes only widen, filled with yet more panic. You open your mouth and close it again, a few times, the shock not letting you speak but when you do, you stutter and shake your head. 
“No! Oh my god! I’m just saying – listen, I want no trouble, I’m just passing through, I just want to go home.”
Steve can’t help but be a bit amused by the panic and the fear in your eyes. 
“I didn’t mean to scare you!” 
If laughing hadn’t become such a strange thing to him these days, he would do it now, yeah, he would chuckle, he would laugh loudly. 
“That’s funny,” he mumbles under his breath, looking you up and down one more time before he turns on his heels and continues his journey down the road. His boots hit the gravel roughly, footsteps echoing through the empty streets, it only takes three seconds before a second pair joins, just like he had suspected. 
“Wait!”
You catch up with him quickly, walking beside him now. He feels your eyes on him but he doesn’t turn to look. 
“Is this a community?”
He wouldn’t call it that, the few people that stayed here all fend for themselves, just like him and his friends do. 
“Would be a very shitty one if anyone could just walk in.”
“Right…” He hears you murmur softly. “Are you passing through?”
“No.”
“Do you live here?”
“Yes.” 
“Why?”
Steve rolls his eyes, side-eying you. He is not very talkative anymore, he finds no joy in holding conversations, let alone in answering questions, he barely uses his voice nowadays, he doesn’t feel bad about it, or even guilty. Normally he would keep quiet or even snap at whoever is bothering him, today he can’t find it in himself to be mean… meaner. 
“Cause it’s my hometown. Why are you by yourself?” Steve asks without looking at you. 
“I left my last camp cause I want to go home, like I said before–”
“I know, I mean why are you traveling by yourself? It’s not safe out here, especially not for women.” Steve rounds the corner, inching closer to the only house that has a light peeking through the boards on the windows. 
“It’s not safe for anyone out here, not just for women,” you correct him, looking at him in surprise when he opens the gate to the backyard before you and lets you walk in first. “But I haven’t seen anyone since I left the camp, you’re the first person…” You mumble and look down at your converse, that look very dirty in comparison to his black boots. 
You stand before him now, close, a little too close for a stranger, though he makes no move to put more distance between you. He sees the wound on your shoulder clearer now, a cut caused by either a knife or glass. 
You tilt your head up again, you are close enough to see his face now properly, the color of his eyes, hazel. Freckles and moles kiss his skin, his features are soft, his expression isn’t. His brown hair is very… voluminous, his beard is trimmed, he looks clean and he doesn’t smell, a rarity nowadays. He is tall, his shoulders are wide, he is certainly much stronger too, his biceps strain against his black shirt, and it only now dawns on you that you followed a man to what you presume is his home, you followed with no hesitation. 
You swallow the growing lump in your throat and take a step back. He had shown no interest in you, he doesn’t seem fond of you following him either. He is just as much of a threat as you are, you tell yourself. 
“So er… is it just you here?” You ask, looking at the house he stopped by, the house you presume is his home, his fortress. 
“No.”
You nod, pursing your lips as you look into his cold eyes but he quickly breaks eye contact and starts walking again. 
“Where is everyone and how many people are here?” You ask as you continue on following him, staring at the back of his head, his mullet looks good, taken care of, you notice. “Also why don’t you have any fences, aren’t you afraid of sick ones getting in? And–”
Steve turns on his heel, sighing loudly as he glares down at you, not even moving back when you almost bump into him. 
“Will you shut up for a second!?” He grumbles, glaring at you again as he stares you down. 
You press your lips together, gazing up into his dark eyes, not breaking eye contact. The look on his face should intimidate you, the cold eyes should scare you, he should scare you but he doesn’t. 
“Have any monsters gotten in yet and if so, have you ever fought any? I ran into a dog like creature the other day, that fucker nearly bit my hand off, I–”
Two seconds. You shut up for two fucking seconds. 
“Jesus,” Steve mumbles, raising his hand up, he runs his fingers through his hair, his annoyance doesn’t faze you in the slightest, you open your mouth again, ready to ask another question but someone else beats you to it. 
“Well, what do we have here?” 
You instantly press your lips together, throwing your hand to your holster as you snap your head to look towards the gate and at the person who cut you off, startled by his presence, you take a step closer to the stranger you just met as you eye the man with the long hair, who is looking at you with a smile on his face. His eyes are kind, much kinder than the ones of the man beside you. He is holding a box, a gun is secured and tucked into his belt. 
“Who’s this lovely lady, Harrington?” He asks, not stepping closer yet. 
Harrington. 
You don’t even notice the girl beside him until she clears her throat, offering you a small smile. Her hair is long and curly too, her bangs cover her eyes a little, a rifle is strapped over her shoulder. 
“Someone passing through,” Harrington grumbles under his breath, clearly wanting you to keep passing through. “She’ll be on her way now.”
It’s getting dark now, it’s not safe to continue your travel when the sun sets. You planned to find shelter when you stepped foot into this town, maybe find some cans of food in one of the abandoned houses. 
The girl meets your eyes, hesitating, she shakes her head. 
“Oh, it’s getting dark, besides she could use a bath, Steve.” The girl says, frowning as she looks you up and down. 
Offended, you scrunch your nose up and look down at yourself, “hey, I do my best in any possible lake!” You argue, despite the surprise in you. Every group, every community you have come across before, did not offer baths or shelter, not after your pleading, at least. 
“She has to go to her hometown–”
“All alone?” The girl asks, frowning at the man – at Steve, beside you. She glances at the one next to her, they share the same look in their eyes. You wonder if they are siblings. 
“Yes, all alone.” Steve sighs. 
They look at him in disappointment. 
He doesn’t want you here. 
It’s nothing you aren’t used to. 
You’re on your own, you always have been. Though you can’t remember the last time you had a proper shower, a real meal or a night full of sleep. You don’t know how to hunt, you wash yourself in lakes and you never sleep through the night, no matter how safe you think you are, you can’t sleep. You can’t even remember the last time you felt fully rested, not even the communities that provided you shelter gave you that real feeling of safety. 
You don’t know these people, the man beside you and the pair before you, but the kind blue eyes and the chocolate brown ones are different from any of the ones you have looked into before – you can feel the indifference from Steve, he doesn’t know you, he doesn’t trust you. 
“I-It’s fine, I was just passing through,” you shrug, offering a smile, despite the weird feeling in your stomach. “Do you… maybe have a map for me though?”
“Yeah,” Steve instantly speaks up, clearly wanting to get rid of you quickly. 
She crosses her arms over her chest, ignoring your question, she glares at Steve, “did she ask to stay?” 
Steve clenches his jaw, glaring back at her with an icy cold stare. 
“We can’t afford another mouth to feed–” 
The guy with the curly hair steps forward with a sigh, approaching Steve with a stubborn look on his face, “I’m keeping her.” 
Steve scrunches his face up, scoffing at his friend, “she’s not a fucking puppy!” 
Though he doesn’t listen to him and turns towards you, nudging his head at you, motioning for you to follow him as he goes to open the door to the house, “come on, we’re gonna eat dinner soon, we’re making stew. And you can get cleaned up if you want, Nancy will give you some clean clothes.”
You want to follow badly, the mention of food, of a warm meal makes your mouth water, and you wouldn’t say no to a shower and fresh clothes either but Steve’s unwelcoming expression makes you hesitate. 
He is looking down at the ground, his jaw tense, his eyes unimpressed. 
The girl, Nancy, she is looking at him still, waiting for him to look at her too but he doesn’t. There is something in her eyes that you can’t read, the same look that resides in his own. 
With a sigh, she looks away and starts walking towards you after closing the gate behind her. She can see the hesitation on your face. 
“You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to, we’re leaving soon too–”
“We are not,” Steve says harshly, nearly making you flinch. 
“We are.” Nancy argues, her brows are pulled together, her lips curl downwards. 
She is certainly more intimidating than he is. 
“You can stay for the night, like Eddie said, we’ll have dinner and you can get cleaned up, tomorrow you can be on your way with the map you have asked for, but it’s getting dark now – so, you’re staying.” 
“Okay.”
It’s funny, normally that would have been a warning sign for you to run. People aren’t usually so persistent for you to stay and if they are, you never stay long enough to find out what evilness they have planned for you. Usually you aren’t so trusting, but her kind blue eyes make it hard not to. 
Finding kindness in this world is a rarity nowadays, you wonder if these people ever encountered real danger – not the creatures, or the sick people but humans, you found out that those can be much worse, evil. You figure that they haven’t, otherwise they wouldn’t be so trusting towards you, even Steve, he didn’t ask you to take your weapons off of you, didn’t tell you to hand them over, he just let you follow, and his friends open the door to their home for you, they let you inside, he does too. 
You have a growing suspicion that they don’t really know the world they live in now, they haven’t seen past this untouched town, they haven’t seen what people are capable of, how cruel and evil they can be, because if they did, you would not be welcome here, not so easily, no matter how harmless you seem to them. 
But the kindness you are greeted with today encourages the hope that never died inside of you. 
Hope that died in him a long time ago. 
Hope that will die in you just like it did in him. 
He watches you closely, the way you look around the house the three of them have stayed in for the past year, you throw your backpack to the ground, leaving it abandoned by the stairs. You eye the radio station in the living room, curiosity lingers in your eyes, he notices how your fingers twitch but you don’t touch it, you draw back from it when you catch him staring at you like a hawk – he almost feels bad when you shy away. 
You turn your back to him and look at the bookshelf, tilting your head to the side. 
Steve should stop it, the staring, but he can’t, he doesn’t know why, you are not a threat, he doesn’t need to watch you but he keeps doing it, slowly following you through the house like you are his prey. 
You are the first stranger to enter this house, the first and the only. Every person who stumbled upon this ghost town was turned and scared away by him. He doesn’t know why he let you inside, Eddie and Nancy wouldn’t be able to keep you here, no matter how persistent and stubborn they had been. If they didn’t want you here, you would have been long gone and not walking around the house. 
But something about you makes him mad.
Maybe it’s the way you so easily fit in, or maybe it’s the way you fall for Eddie’s charm and giggle at every attempt of his to make you smile, maybe it’s the way you get along with Nancy right away, Nancy who is usually distrusting of anyone she doesn’t know, or maybe it’s the way you look at him when you sit across from him during dinner, the golden light from the fireplace touching your soft skin. Your eyes are big and innocent, the air around you is too, like you had been untouched by the horrors of this world, like nothing ever happened to you, like you didn’t lose anything or anyone, like the world didn’t even scratch the surface of you. 
He doesn’t know you, he doesn’t know anything about you but he knows what you are – a naive and stupid girl, one that throws herself into danger, the cut on your shoulder and the scars on your upper arm are proof of that, you won’t survive long, people like you never do. 
He stares into your eyes and you stare back, eyeing him while Eddie talks your ear off, who is happy to have someone new to talk with, considering he is stuck with people who aren’t the most talkative. 
You blink, holding his gaze for a while. 
You are trouble, the kind that he wants to stay away from, the kind he needs to stay away from. 
And yet he finds himself knocking on the bathroom door to give you the toiletries and the clothes that Nancy had prepared for you after dinner. He is huffing loudly when he hears you singing, or humming. The only person he ever heard hum in a shower nowadays was Eddie, and he did it just to be an obnoxious prick. You, you are just happy, and who the hell is happy nowadays with how the world is? A psychopath. You are a fucking psychopath.
“One sec!” Your voice was sweet as the water is turned off, and soon after, the door is opening and his eyes are everywhere. You are wrapped in a towel, holding it tightly on your chest where the edge is tucked in. Your wet hair falling down your shoulders, the droplets all over your skin, and you have a stupid smile on your face. That snaps him out from the trance of staring at you more than he should. He blames it on not meeting another woman in a while. The only one in this ‘community’ of his age is Nancy, and she and him made it clear that whatever happened when Vecna was alive, that it was purely out of adrenaline and the need to be or feel cared for by someone in that moment.
“Have your stuff. Remember to give the clothes back before you leave tomorrow.” He extends his arms towards you, the body cream on top of the clothes, making you gasp as your arms shoot to take them from him, your eyes stuck on the white bottle.
“Oh god… thank you… I can’t– I can’t thank you enough–”
“Not me. Nancy and Eddie. I wanted you gone, still want you gone.” His eyes are looking away from you, down the hall as he speaks. He is harsh and he knows it, but there is a limit on water usage in the community, and you just used a ton. Which makes him think that Nancy and Eddie are being serious on leaving, not caring for the limits any longer. 
Your eyes look up, catching onto the patch of freckles and moles on his neck, as well as a very prominent scar. As if he had been choked by some rope, going all the way around. You were hurt by his words, but yet, this guy is being mean, and wants to kick you out, and he is standing in front of you handing you body cream and clothes, when he could have refused. He could have shot you and defy his friends. He could have been pushier.
And so your hope doesn’t die.
“I’ll thank them later… but yet, thank you, as well.” You persist and he grumbles something under his breath, his head turning to look at you one last time. Hopefully, the last time he sees it before he wakes up tomorrow. 
“Have a safe trip tomorrow.” And with that, he walks down the hall and towards his room, slowly closing the door behind him. Robin is going to kill him. Letting a random girl inside the house. Eddie and Nancy were out of their minds. Everyone was, except him. Hopefully.
He hears murmurs between you and Nancy in the hallway, giggles that disappear as you two disappear into Nancy’s room. She is letting you sleep on the bed with her. What the fuck was Nance thinking? You are a stranger… A stranger who seemed harmless enough, a stranger who looked… tired. Like the only thing you wanted to do was sleep, and sleep, and sleep. 
He might be over-exaggerating with how he is treating you, but can anyone blame him for it?
His eyes move towards a scarf on his bed frame, his fingers caressing the hand-knitted mustard colored cotton between his fingers. He hears Eddie whistling as he goes into his room and his anger bubbles up inside of him again.
He isn’t leaving this town. It is a stupid idea to do so. It is reckless. It is also going against the community’s rules. He isn’t going to leave. He can’t leave Robin behind, and Eddie and Nancy know she won’t be coming along.
He won’t leave the last thing that is keeping him alive.
505 notes · View notes
mggslover · 24 hours ago
Note
spencer and readers first fight ! can you possiblyyyy do something along the lines of spencer said something sassy/petty/mean which results in reader giving spencer the silent treatment and he crashes out begging for her to speak to him 🤓☝🏼
your first fight with spencer genre: slight angst, fluff word count: 1,7k a/n: i've been so excited to write this one! honestly way too long for a drabble, but i hope you enjoy it
“That’s okay. Your mind wouldn’t be able to comprehend a concept like this."
Spencer didn’t understand the gravity of his words before you huffed out a sigh, placing your hands on your knees as you lifted yourself up from the spot next to him on the couch. His eyes followed your body as you walked straight toward your shared bedroom, opening the door before shutting it behind you with a bang. The click of the lock echoed through the now silent living room.
Spencer sat frozen in place, his gaze fixed on the door as if you’d magically reappear in front of him.
Everything about your body language hinted at you being angry, but he couldn’t grasp why. He replayed the situation back in his head in an effort to decipher the reason.
You had cheerfully greeted him when he entered the apartment. He’d been away on a case for several days, not having had the time to speak to you over the phone or give you any updates on how he was doing.
As much as he preferred keeping clear boundaries between his personal and professional life, Spencer couldn’t resist telling you the details of some of his cases when coming home. Not when the psychology behind the unsubs fascinated him so much. And especially not when you eagerly pulled him toward the couch, pushing him down onto the soft cushions as you handed him a cup of freshly brewed coffee, ready to hear about his day.
You sat cross-legged in front of him, eyes twinkling with admiration as he told you about today’s case. He explained how he discovered a pattern in the way the unsub took his captives, using the numbers 11235 — the first five numerals in the Fibonacci sequence.
He noticed the frown forming between your brows as he got into more detail.
“Can you explain that to me? I don’t get it,” you asked.
“That’s okay. Your mind wouldn’t be able to comprehend a concept like this.”
Spencer wasn’t lying. He remembered how his coworkers had blankly stared at him when he analyzed his theory — how Emily made eye contact with JJ, their silent looks saying there he goes again, and how Hotch had to cut him off to tell him to get to the point. It wasn’t like he didn’t want to explain it to you, he just didn’t see the point in doing so, not when he knew this was a connection only he could understand.
After a couple of minutes, there was still radio-silence. Spencer got up and walked to the bedroom, knocking softly on the door. “Angel? Can you open up for me?”
“Just go away, Spencer.”
Your voice cracked, like you had been crying, and the sound made his heart sink.
“Please open the door so we can talk. Tell me what’s wrong.”
“What’s wrong?” Your scoff vibrated through the door. “I don’t even want to talk to you if you can’t understand what’s wrong.”
Spencer swallowed hard, his hands turning clammy. He didn’t like confrontations and especially not with you. You’d never fought before. Rationally, he knew fights weren’t necessarily a bad thing — conflicts usually stemmed from deeper fears and feelings that get triggered, and confronting these feelings could lead to creating an even stronger bond. But right now, all he wanted was to turn back time and make sure those words never left his mouth.
His mind blanked in situations like these, so the only logical fix he could come up with was to call Derek.
“Hey,” Spencer spoke through the phone, balancing the device between his ear and shoulder as he nervously paced through the living room.
“Hey man. What’s up?”
“I messed up.”
Morgan’s chuckle sounded through the speaker. “Our genius making a mistake. Who would’ve thought the day would come?”
Spencer sighed, losing his patience. “It’s serious.”
Derek paused before responding. “Alright, slow down. Tell me what happened.”
Spencer repeated the conversation for what felt like the hundredth time that day, his guilt accumulating with each repetition. He gulped when he heard Derek take a sharp inhale at the other side of the line. He could almost see him shaking his head.
“Okay,” Derek began. “Now listen to me. When it comes down to it, all women are the same, they just need some loving and appreciation. Go buy her some flowers before the store closes.”
Spencer didn’t need to be told twice. He glanced one last time at the still-locked bedroom door before heading out.
Thankfully, Spencer’s apartment was close to downtown. He hurried into the first flower shop that he spotted, his eyes scanning the bouquets until they landed on a pair of bright colored lilies. The outer corners of the petals shone with a radiant shade of pink, fading into a soft white at the center.
He cleared his throat as he placed the flowers on the counter. “Can I have these, please?”
The woman behind the counter started wrapping them in pink paper, reaching out for lint to tie a bow. “Trouble in paradise?”
Spencer blinked, not often experiencing someone seeing right through him. Besides his coworkers. And you.
“Ya know, I see so many men come in here on the daily. You can just tell they got in trouble with their lady; sweating bullets and rushing to pick a bouquet the second before the store closes.” She twirled the bouquet in her hand as she pulled on the strings of the lint bow. “At least you picked a nice one.”
“Do-,” Spencer hesitated, his voice softening in an uncertain whisper. “Will she forgive me after this?”
“Depends on what ya did,” she answered with a lift of her shoulders. “What I can tell you is that flowers don’t do much fixing.”
Damn it, Derek.
The florist turned around, rummaging through a drawer, before pulling out an envelope and sliding it across the counter.
“Write,” she stated in a single syllable. “We need words. We need to know that you care, and we need you to put more effort into it than paying ten dollars.”
With a new plan in mind, Spencer hurried home. The apartment was still silent when he returned, the door firmly closed and no signs of you having left the bedroom. He sighed and made his way to his desk, shoving aside piles of books and papers until he had enough space to write. He opened the envelope the florist had given him, and carefully pulled out a sheet of blank stationary.
My Lover Dearest,
It is ironic that I have read so much poetry and so many books in my life, and yet I cannot find the words to describe how much you mean to me.
Sometimes, I find it difficult to believe that someone as wonderful as you would want to be with me. That I’m allowed to deserve the love that you give me.
My mind works in strange ways, and as much as you’ve praised me for it, it can work as a curse as well. I am scared to overwhelm you, to talk your ears off (which would be a shame, because you have beautiful ears) to the point that you grow tired of me.
I never had the intention to cause you pain, or to initiate that you’re any less brilliant than you are. You are the brightest part of my life. I feel grateful every time I get to talk to you, and I would love nothing more than to explain any concept you’d want me to. I’m sorry for not having understood that before.
I love you. I love you. I have been wanting to tell you this in a special way, please know that I am not just saying this to ask for your forgiveness. I love you.
Sincerely, Spencer
The clock chimed 03.00 a.m. by the time Spencer finished his letter. His hand ached and he could barely keep his eyes open as he stumbled to the bedroom door. He turned the handle, but it wouldn’t budge. With a resigned sigh he slid the letter under the door and sat down against it. It didn’t take long for exhaustion to overtake him.
The repeated knocking of the door against his back woke him.
“Spencer?”
Your voice sounded like a siren, and he instantly scrambled away from the door, allowing you to open it fully.
You stood there, holding the envelope in your hand as your eyes softened when you glanced over him, mouth forming a small oh. “What are you doing here?” you asked in worry.
“The door was locked,” he answered, voice still hoarse from sleep.
A curse escaped your lips as you pressed your hands against your face. “I am so sorry. I must have fallen asleep with the door still locked.”
Spencer’s lips lifted into a small smile, relieved that you hadn’t locked him out intentionally. “It’s okay. Orthopedists actually recommend sleeping on the floor from time to time. Sleeping on a hard surface encourages a more natural position for your spine, which can reduce back pain. It even strengthens certain muscles, so the pressure on your body evens out. As a matter of fact, anthropological studies have shown that-”
He stopped mid-ramble, blushing when he noticed the faint smile tugging on your lips.
“Sorry,” he mumbled. “I’ll stop,”
“Don’t you ever stop,” you replied as you lowered yourself on the ground next to him. You reached for his hands, placing them into your lap.
Spencer’s blush deepened, and he struggled to suppress a grin. Your encouragement reassured him, and he went on about groups in Japan and Tanzania who experience significantly lower rates of back pain due to their minimal use of furniture.
“Spencer,” you gently interrupted after a while.
He blinked at you, seeing the gleam in your eyes as you adoringly stared at him. “Hm?”
“I love you too.”
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dem0batz · 3 days ago
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Rotten Right to the Core
Caleb x MC
Author's Note: No thoughts, only Caleb's toxic ass behavior. This was shorter than I planned but sometimes the words lead you and not the other way around. Hope y'all still enjoy 😘 Word Count: ~1500 | Read on AO3 Summary: Caleb wants to feel you without any barriers. 🔞Content Warnings: Dead Dove, afab!MC, she/her MC, taboo (pseudo-cest), PIV, rough sex, edging, biting, protected sex until it’s not, dubcon (sexual coercion), possessive Caleb, spanking, Girlboss/Gaslight/Breeding Kink, hair pulling, putting it back in
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Incoherent words fall from your mouth, muffled by the scratchy material of your grandmother’s couch while Caleb ruts into you from behind. Ever the one to take advantage of your time home alone together, your brother had you pinned to the cushion the moment you got home from a full day of classes at the Hunter’s Academy. You barely had time to for your bag to drop to the floor before his tongue was down your throat and he had you folded in half over the armrest. He’s been different since leaving for the Skyhaven base to train as a pilot. Caleb has always been the overprotective, obsessive type but now that you were no longer living under the same roof it was like he was trying to tattoo himself inside you whenever he was granted leave to visit home.
“This is just the welcome home I needed,” he groans.
His fingertips dig into the flesh of your hips, pulling you back on his length with obscene wet slaps echoing off of the walls. Your body was already sore from the way he tossed you around like a rag doll, placing you in various positions and seeming unable to get enough. Heavy, firm balls slap against your puffy abused clit, teasing at an orgasm he had denied you over and over again until you felt on the verge of madness.
“Caleb, please!” you whine, voice pitched high and eyes full of tears.
A deep chuckle vibrates against your back as he pins you further with his chest.
It was borderline cruel the way he made you beg for release. You never understood why he insisted on drawing it out and tormenting the both of you, especially considering that more times than not you were on a time crunch to finish before Gran could catch the two of you. It was like he wanted to get caught, always pushing the limit further and further, seeing how close you could get to the sun without incinerating.
“You know just what I like to hear.” His warm breath is like silk against your eardrum. “I want something else from you, though.”
You don’t hesitate to answer, unable to bear the thought of waiting any longer.
“Anything.”
Caleb’s hand grips your jaw, pulling your gaze back to meet his until your neck aches from the strain. Danger flashes in his amethyst eyes.
“You have no sense of self-preservation, dear sister. You don’t even know what you’re asking for. But it’s too late to take it back.”
He bites your ear painfully as he continues to pump into you, teeth clamping hard while his tongue flicks at jewelry in your lobe. You cry out in a heady combination of pain and please, tightening around his erection.
“Shit, you feel so good,” he moans your name. His heavy cock falls out, leaving you dripping and clenching around nothing as a pitiful plea escapes your lips. “Stop being a whiny brat. You’ll get what you want. Take the condom off.”
That snaps you out of your tormented, blissed out haze, shocking you to your core.
“What do you mean, take it off—”
As you push up on one arm to turn around and face him, you collapse onto your chest once more as Caleb pushes you down and pins your arm behind your back. His hand encircles yours in deceptive softness as he guides your fingers to the tip of his hard cock to pinch the latex.
“What I mean… is take it off, pip,” he repeats.
“B-but we don’t… not without…” you grapple for understanding as responsibility pushes through your lust-filled brain.
“Yeah, well I wanna feel you. All of you. Without anything between us.”
You hesitate, knowing it would be an incredibly irresponsible thing to do. You just got into the academy and were top of your class. Before long you would be assigned to a squad at the Association, something you’ve dreamed of doing since you saw Hunters fighting off Wanderers on the broadcast as a little girl.
Caleb must sense your hesitation. Soft lips press to your cheek, a trail of soothing kisses pecking lovingly against the skin. The hand not currently wrapped around your own dips between your thighs as he starts to swirl your swollen clit. Still sensitive from the constant edging, your mind swims as your forehead falls to the cushion to stop the room from spinning. His touch is light, gentle even as your brother’s calming voice soothes you like a balm.
“I know this is new for us and you’re nervous, but it hurts that you don’t trust me to take care of you.”
“It’s not—”
“You have the implant—”
“How do you know tha—” you ask, but he cuts you off again.
“And I’ll pull out. I promise.” A soft sigh falls from his lips as he starts to pump against your hand that was still gripping him. “Just need to feel you.”
You never knew how to tell him no when he gets like this, all soft and sweet even if it never lasted.
“I-I—you promise?”
“Cross my heart and hope to die.”
“…okay,” you give in, body going pliant in his hold.
Pinching the latex, you start to tug. Caleb pulls back to give you space to work the condom down his length with a snap!
“There’s my sweet girl,” he praises.
Releasing your arm, he grabs himself to swipe the sticky bare head through your soaked folds with a hiss. Up and down over and over again as it keeps bumping your clit in a maddening tease. Just when you think he’s never going to put you out of your misery, he slides in with a single deep, hard thrust that takes the air from your lungs.
“Caleb!” you cry out just as he lets out a loud quivering groan.
Hand pressing against his abdomen you attempt to make him ease up. But just like before when you tried to stop him, he traps your arm against your lower back while his long cock bruises your cervix. His hips regain the brutal pace it had before the condom came off, the skin-to-skin contact making his glide through your walls much easier. Despite your pleas for him to slow down, you gush around the intrusion.
“I know you like it soft and sweet, pip-squeak, but you also like when I just take what’s mine. Don’t you?”
His hand cracks across your ass, leaving behind a sting that has you grinding your teeth. Head shaking in denial, Caleb lands another smack across the sensitive flesh followed by another and another.
“Don’t lie to me. I can feel your cunt squeezing the life out of me every time I do.”
“No—”
Crack!
“Want to try that again?”
“Caleb!”
Crack!
“Just tell me the truth and I’ll let you come.”
Like a carrot dangling in front of a horse, you give, desperate for the release. Your muffled response gets lost in the cushion. Fingers thread through the base of your neck, pulling at your roots until your face is unobstructed.
“Say it again,” he demands, panting harshly into your ear.
He was just about as far gone as you at this point.
“I like it,” you mewl, not having the strength to deny it any longer.
Your body was starting to grow heavy and you didn’t have much left to give.
“Like what? Use your big girl words.”
You loved hated when he did this. He was a total sadist sometimes. Face heating to an unbearable degree, you rush out a response.
“I like it when you take what’s yours.”
“You love it when I take what’s mine,” he corrects.
“I love it when you take what’s yours,” you repeat between high pitched moans.
You would give him anything he wanted right now if he would just give you what you needed. Your dignity was long gone, that ship having sailed years ago when it came to him.
“Now tell me you want my cum.”
“Caleb,” you hyperventilate, on the verge of tears again at his constant teasing.
“Shhh, it’s okay sweet girl. Almost there, I promise. Tell me what you want.”
“I want your cum.”
“Whose cum?”
“My brother’s…” you murmur, knowing exactly what the pervert wants to hear.
Caleb always did want what he wasn’t supposed to have, you above all.
“Yeah? You want your big brother’s cum? Well, who am I to deny a pretty girl her request.”
Fingers pinch your clit, the mere touch enough at this point to make you go blind with pleasure. Your abdomen tightens and your ears ring almost painfully as you’re overcome with your release. You barely even notice when Caleb pulls out with a growl and wetness coats both holes between your legs. The moment seems to go on forever until he finally releases you, allowing you to collapse face-first into the couch with your heart pounding against your ribcage.
Grabbing his still stiff cock, Caleb swipes it through the mess he made of your ass and pussy, gathering the sticky release together on the tip.
So out of it, you don’t even realize what he’s doing until it’s too late.
Caleb slides back into your abused, tender hole with slow intentional deep strokes.
“Caleb!” you scold, so depleted of energy that your protest comes out as a pathetic mumble.
“I kept my promise, babygirl. I pulled out. Do you think Gran would be mad if we made her a grandma again?”
“You’re a jerk,” your swat lands against his naked hip with a smack as he laughs at your expense.
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smileysuh · 14 hours ago
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princess & kingpin
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🌙 starring. Lee Donghyuck x afab!Reader
🔮 preview. Donghyuck might have a reputation to uphold in the darker world he inhabits with his family, but with you, this is Hyuck, the rascal ward who’d stolen your heart when you were children. Right now, he’s not a future Kingpin, nor are you a Princess. Instead, you’re man and wife, and you intend to reap the new benefits these connected titles give you.
tw/cw. Unprotected sex, arranged marriage, virgin!reader, thick dick!Donghyuck, first-time sex, wedding night sex, body worship, wedding garter, fingering, pussy eating, lots of foreplay, pussy stretching, dirty talk, praise, good first-time communication, lots of kissing, gentle/hand holding sex, talks of ‘consummation/duty’, Hyuck uses a knife to cut open her intricate laced wedding gown, etc… I pet names: (hers) Princess.  
👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 5.7k
🍭 aus.  Modern royal au, mafia au, childhood friends to lovers, strategically arranged marriage, princess! y/n, future kingpin!Haechan
☀️ mlist + an. i had a field day with the au selection for this one haha
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Prologue:
There was never any doubt when Donghyuck was born, that he was his father’s son. He’d come out of the womb punching, and despite his mother being a mistress, the renowned weapons dealer had claimed Donghyuck as his own, as he’d claimed other illegitimate would-be heirs. 
The blood of the mother was redundant in Donghyuck’s father’s eyes, all that mattered, was that he was a Lee. This mentality had stayed with Donghyuck in his early childhood, growing up amongst other half-siblings. Mark, for example, was slightly older, and although he had more of his mother’s gentle temperament, he knew how to live up to his name when it mattered. Jeno, in contrast, was very much another mini-me to their father, very bold, very aggressive. 
When Donghyuck was ten, something happened that would change the entire course of his life. 
Having lived in a corrupt monarchy for the entirety of his existence, and having a father who was somewhat of a Kingpin in the shady world of weapons, Donghyuck grew to have a disdain for the King, who was always meddling, always making choices that had negative effects on his people.
The Lees weren’t the only clan who hated the King, in fact, the head royal’s choices were so bad, that he gained the moniker ‘The Mad King.’ His own family had turned against him, and when he would not willingly relinquish his power it was decided that for the first time in a very long time, an internal assassination would be the best choice for the entire realm.
When Donghyck was ten, his eldest half-brother, Lee Taeyong, assassinated The Mad King, thus making way for the thrown to be usurped by the King’s own younger brother, a younger brother who now had ties, and a debt to settle, with Donghyuck’s family.
The first year after The Mad King’s death saw more reform for the better than perhaps ever in the history of the kingdom. There were some who were unhappy with a militia-style arms dealer family injecting themselves into the court through a blood favor, but others understood that sometimes, this type of brute force is necessary for positive change. Besides, the new King understood, as the King before him had not, that having the raw power of the Lees backing him up would be the safest choice of all.
At eleven, Donghyuck was sent to the castle to be a ward for the royal family. He would spend six months of the year learning the ins and outs of the court. This was the first time Donghyuck had felt like a half-son, like the birth of his mother had reflected negatively on him. He didn’t want to be in the libraries studying, or learning how to make diplomatic concessions- that wasn’t who he was. Lee Donghyuck was not a royal, and in the mind of his eleven-year-old self, he never would be.
Donghyuck would spend seven years in between the castle and his family home, feeling torn, feeling less than his half-brothers, who were gaining the benefit of a full-time life with his father. There were a few bright moments with the royals, bright moments when he’d first met you, the Princess. The two of you became fast friends, both sharing a common feeling of dissatisfaction with your fathers’ treatment, both feeling like being the youngest in a large clan had its downsides.
At eighteen, Donghyuck was no longer forced to be a ward. He was a full member of the Lee’s now, and he’d spent all his time in the castle working to be the best asset to his father that he could be, desperately wanting to prove to his father that he could be the best of all his sons, maybe even better than Taeyong, who had been the tool used to secure their spot as royal-adjacents. 
It wasn’t until Donghyuck was twenty that he learned the truth of why he had been the one chosen to go to the castle. He, out of all his siblings, of age, and of sharp mind, was determined to be the most useful plant within the marble walls of royalty.
After he’d found out how his father truly saw him, Donghyuck became a fully unstoppable force, and he never looked back.
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One:
“It’s been a long time,” the old advisor to the King says as he takes a seat, staring at Donghyuck from behind his large office desk. 
“It has,” Donghyuck agrees, eying all the official papers that still scatter Seunghyun’s space. 
“I received the letter from your father,” the advisor continues, reaching for the document in question to hold it up. “I suppose I always knew this day was coming, especially after what your family did for our King.”
Donghyuck nods. It would seem to him that the notion of an arranged marriage had likely always been in his father’s back pocket, but of course, when Donghyuck was younger, he hadn’t realized he would be the intended Lee to join the royal family. Now, as a man, the entire play makes sense. He’s not a complete stranger to the princesses, nor is he unfamiliar with the court and the way the royals conduct themselves.
No, Donghyuck was purposefully sent here by his father to infiltrate, to make the exact move that he’s attempting to make right now. 
Lee Donghyuck will marry into the royal family, forever securing an unbreakable bond between them, and it is this mission, that Donghyuck has unknowingly spent over ten years trying to achieve. 
“I have discussed this letter with the King,” Seunghyun continues, “and we assume there is no guess as to whom you would like as your bride.”
“No guess,” Donghyuck responds with a chuckle, looking down at the Lee family ring on his pinky. 
“You always did have a connection with the youngest princess. If it would be amenable to your father… If he has no other specifications as to which Princess you are to be wedded to, the King agrees that you and Princess y/n can be wed within a week’s time.”
Donghyuck can’t help the way his heart thumps in his chest. His father had made him aware of this royally arranged marriage a month ago, but he’s still not quite used to the idea that you’ll be his wife.
He’d always had an attraction to you, an attraction to your body, mind, and spirit- but as a teenager, he’d done his best to push those thoughts aside. He’d been acutely aware that your differing situations in life would most likely keep you from ever being in a union- 
In some ways, Donghyuck feels like he’s entered a very good dream, but there are some anxieties that come with it. After all, he hasn’t seen you in years… what if your opinion of him has changed?
“That timeline works for the Lee clan,” Donghyuck says smoothly, “as does the Princess in question.”
It’s funny how easily Donghyuck slips back into the diction of the castle, the ‘proper’ way of speaking. it’s been years since he’s been here, but in some odd way, it’s as if he never left.
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Two:
“The two of you always had a connection,” your older sister Jenni concedes as you sit in front of your vanity, an artist working on your makeup. “But you haven't seen him in years.”
“He can’t have changed that much, right?” you ask, looking between your siblings.
Hwasa exchanges a glance with Jenni. As the second oldest, Hwasa is married already, however, in contrast to your arranged match, she’d been wed to a Prince and is now next in line for a throne half a continent away.
“Certain qualities are bound to stay the same,” Hwasa says diplomatically. “However… I have heard about his more recent reputation.”
You’ve all heard about it. Once upon a time, Taeyong had been the prodigal son of the Lee clan, he’d even overthrown a whole kingdom for the chance to strengthen family ties, but in recent years, the story goes that the eldest Lee boy had become timid, less so like his father. Donghyuck, in contrast, has supposedly risen in the ranks, working all the way up to somewhat of a right-hand man figure, despite him being one of the younger members of the halfling brood. 
“He’ll still be the same boy who wanted to skip lessons to play in the park,” you insist. “The same boy who got high marks without studying.”
“Intellect is an attractive trait,” Hwasa concedes, “however, I seem to remember his reckless disdain for rules got you in trouble a number of times as well.”
“She was always following him into bad situations,” Jenni agrees with a laugh. “It was charming when they were young. A twelve-year-old kingpin’s son, corrupting a princess to go on ‘dangerous’ quests, playing pretend in the castle park.” 
“I guess neither of us thought we’d ever be very important to our families,” you sigh. “I’m the youngest daughter. Sure, I was expected to marry well, but I think we all knew I’d never be more than a princess. I’m no Queen.”
“Maybe not one in name,” Hwasa says, cocking her head to the side as she plays with your veil. “But someone has to run the Lee empire when the kingpin dies, and many sources are pointing toward Donghyuck as being the next in line. Securing you as a match would definitely add some… legitimacy, considering the fact that he’s a half-blood.”
“His father’s wife never bore children,” you point out, feeling defensive. “It made sense for him to have mistresses, children born out of wedlock. He kept his wife, whom he loved, but still needed a line to inherit his work. It’s an arrangement they had.”
“I’ve heard conflicting reports on whether Mrs. Lee was very agreeable to the situation, having a host of children calling your husband father while she herself was not a birth mother,” Hwasa sighs.
“I don’t want to hear about this anymore,” you declare. “I’m getting married today, and these politics and talks of family lines and legitimacy are dampening my mood.”
Your sisters exchange one last look, but then they bow their heads to you, a sign of submission.
You know they’re just protective, that they’re not the only ones dissecting the arrangement with your fiance. 
Having spent your life in a castle, you’re used to gossip. The only person who never truly cared about what others thought was Donghyuck, and you’re eager for the strength he provided you when you were young.
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Three:
Donghyuck can hardly breathe when the church doors open and you begin to walk through. Your veil obscures your face, your chin dipped down to pay attention to the floor as your father slowly escorts you up the aisle. Even without being able to fully see you, Donghyuck can tell you’ve only grown more beautiful in the years since he’s seen you, and his heart begins to thump wildly in his chest.
Jeno and Mark are his groomsmen, and he can feel them shifting behind him, clearly reacting to your beauty, as everyone in the House of God is. 
Things seem to move incredibly slowly, and also incredibly fast. The King is handing you off to Donghyuck, and he’s taking you by the hand, marveling at the scar on your palm that you’d gotten from slipping on a rock when you were both fifteen. God, the castle physician had had a field day with Hyuck when that happened-
He can feel your eyes on him, and soon, he’s lifting your veil to see your face.
Donghyuck can feel the smile that appears on his lips, and you shyly beam back, downcasting your gaze. The Lee can hardly hear the minister as he goes through a useless traditional ceremony, it’s all business after all.
The only things that matter are the ‘I do’s’ and the kiss, and when that happens, Donghyuck is fully present. He wets his lips, squeezing your hand gently. You give him a small nod, a wordless show that it’s okay, that he can move forward and solidify the future you’ll now have together, the future that, in some ways, was always meant to be. 
He wants to be gentle with you, cupping your face and watching you intently as you both move in. At the last moment, your eyes flutter closed, and he mirrors the action, pressing his lips to yours.
It’s the most chaste kiss Donghyuck’s ever had, but at the same time, nothing in the world has ever excited him more.
You taste like mandarine oranges and springtime, and a familiar feeling that has been buried for years begins to bubble up in the young man’s chest like the blossoming of a cherry tree. You’re his future, and he can feel it in his very soul.
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Four:
You’ve felt as if things had progressed quite naturally at the wedding and reception, but now, going with Donghyuck to his home and finally getting some alone time- well, you’re beginning to feel twinges of anxiety.
This man, who you’d known years ago, has grown up. His hair is a little longer, and his hands bear the marks of an everlasting fighter’s soul, but despite these changes, his smile is still the same, as is the soft way he gazes at you.
“How are you feeling?” Donghyuck asks, walking around his large master bedroom to retrieve some water for you.
“I’m alright, and you?” 
“Never been better,” your husband grins, handing you a cup and sitting across from you in the small seating area of his room by the fire. “Were you surprised by this whole arrangement thing?”
You cock your head to the side, considering the question. “Yes, and no. I hadn’t expected a marriage connection between our families, but once I was made aware of it, it felt like I was stupid for never seeing the intention before. And when I found out it would be you marrying someone from my family, I knew you would choose me.”
“We always got along.”
“We did more than get along,” you laugh, feeling your skin flush. You take a sip of water to steady yourself. “I’d always had a crush on you, Donghyuck, following you around like a lost puppy-”
“You never felt like a lost puppy to me. You were just my best friend six months of the year.”
You can’t help but smile. “Best friend,” you repeat, releasing a sad breath. “I was upset when you turned eighteen and stopped coming. I never heard from you.”
“Life got busy,” Donghyuck frowns. 
“I’ve heard,” you nod.
You can feel him studying you, and he leans forward. “I’m sorry. I should have contacted you.”
“It’s alright,” you wave your hand. “We’re here now.”
“We are,” he agrees. “If it makes you feel better, I’ve been thinking about you.”
“You have?”
“I uh…” He rubs the back of his neck shyly, “I always had a crush on you too, but I figured it would never work out, so…”
“It’s funny how life has a way of bringing people together again,” you muse. “As if our fates were always set in stone, always meant to be…” you search for the right word, and it comes to you both in unison: “aligned.” 
You both laugh, looking down, and it’s as if you’re shy teenagers again, teasing with the idea of a forbidden romance that has now come to fruition, with the full backing of both of your families.
“You look very beautiful,” Donghyuck muses, eyes raking over your wedding dress.
“I thought you might like this one,” you smile, also looking down at yourself. “I remember you used to like the bows I’d wear in my hair, always tugging on them-”
“So you wrapped yourself up like a pretty present for me,” Donghyuck deduces. “How very generous of you, Princess.”
A giddy tingle erupts up your spine. While everyone calls you Princess - as it is your title - it feels different coming from Donghyuck’s lips, and it always has.
“It’s our wedding night…” you point out, “I wanted to gift you something, give you something to unwrap.”
Donghyuck swallows thickly, a motion you don’t miss. “Princess… you’ve gotten… bold since we last met.”
“You’re my husband, can’t I be bold with you, Hyuck?”
He takes a deep breath. “I wasn’t sure you’d want to be… I mean, I’m willing to give you time-”
“Consummation is a time-honored tradition,” you point out, only half teasing. “It’s our wedding night, and I’m not the only person with expectations.”
“I doubt your family expects me to give you an heir, Hwasa and your eldest brother have more than delivered in that area,” Donghyuck laughs. “But I see your point.”
“Do you?” You set your water down, standing. Turning your back to Donghyuck, you approach the large bed before looking over your shoulder at him. He’s taking in the bows that make the length of your corsetted back, and you can see his mind working to figure out how he’s going to undo everything in a timely manner. “Come, husband, unwrap your wedding present.”
You’ve been dreaming about this night all week- in fact, you’ve been fantasizing about this since you were sixteen. 
Donghyuck might have a reputation to uphold in the darker world he inhabits with his family, but with you, this is Hyuck, the rascal ward who’d stolen your heart when you were children. Right now, he’s not a future Kingpin, nor are you a Princess. Instead, you’re man and wife, and you intend to reap the new benefits these connected titles give you.
You can sense Donghyuck hesitate as he approaches you, coming to a stop just at your back. His hands gently smooth up your arms, and he leans forward to press his lips to your shoulder. “Are you sure about this?” he asks.
“I’ve never been more sure,” you respond, arching your neck to look back at him. 
Donghyuck reaches up to pinch your chin, and then he kisses you.
It’s a soft kiss like you’d shared at the alter just hours ago, but you have no need to put on a chaste show for royals, there’s no one currently in attendance at this special moment. It’s just you and him, and you’re quick to turn things deeper, releasing a small moan of pleasure as you turn in his arms, threading your fingers through his silky hair.
He grabs your waist, but as you kiss, you can feel his palm smoothing to the small of your back. He begins to pluck loose all the intricate bows, not missing a beat as he does so.
You tug at his suit and Donghuck concedes to you just long enough to get his jacket off before he returns to his task. The kiss is turning heated very quickly, and your skin is tingling with excitement, your heart racing like a wild bird in your rib cage.
Donghyuck begins to kiss down to your throat, licking and sucking on the skin while you gasp and whimper. He’s all-consuming, and you don’t know where to focus as he worships you while simultaneously undoing the bows on the back of your dress. 
His lips ghost by the swell of your breasts, pushed up by the corsetted structure in your wedding gown. God, it feels amazing, and you throw your head back, panting deeply.
“Being so good for me, Princess,” Donghyuck muses, his lips trailing back up your throat. He pulls away, looking down at you. “I want you to know- you can change your mind at any time and I won’t hold it against you-”
“Hyuck,” you groan. “Can you just let me want you?” You bunch your hands up in his suit. “Can you accept that I need you? That I’m not being forced, or coerced- that this ‘arranged’ marriage isn’t even really that ‘arranged’ because, for me, it’s always been you?” 
He’s staring at you in shock, and you decide to take matters into your own hands. You muster up all your strength and push him onto the bed before confidently mounting him. You gather up the poofy skirts of your dress, getting comfortable so you can grind down on him despite all the fabric in the way.
“I didn’t expect this,” Donghyuck admits, swallowing thickly.
“Get used to it,” you fire back, leaning down to cup his face, pressing your lips against his with a newfound passion.
He quickly gets to work on the back of your dress again, and now you’re both moaning at the feeling of you grinding down on top of him. 
Something hard is pressing up against your core, and the knowledge that he’s already hard has you feeling feverish in the best possible way. He wants you the way you want him, and you’re starting to regret wearing such an intricate dress.
“Fuck this,” Hyuck groans, pushing you off of him and onto the bed. He grabs you next, flipping you onto your stomach. When you look over your shoulder, you realize he’s produced a knife - had he been hiding that in a clip on the back of his pants this whole time?
With one rough stroke, he cuts through all the ribbons and the lace along the back of your dress, ruining it in an effort to get to you quickly.
“I never had much patience for presents or keeping wrapping paper intact,” Donghyuck muses, leaning over to set his knife on the bedside table. “Let's get you out of this fucking gown.”
He flips you again, and you release a giggle at the manhandling, loving this new side of your husband. He’s clearly insatiable, and it sets your entire body on fire as he grips your dress and practically tears it from your form. 
You’re in undergarments, and unlike your dress, there hadn't been any royal and historical specifications about the details, so the thong and garter are very much a contrast to the now-destroyed gown that’s been tossed aside. 
The corset on the dress has been enough to not merit a bra of any sort, so now, looking up at Donghyuck, you’re already half naked, and it’s clear that he’s taken aback from the view.
He stops, just staring at you, his lips parted in disbelief. 
“Wow,” he breathes.
“Like what you see?”
“Yes, Princess.” He swallows thickly, gaze finally dipping to take in your thong and the wedding garter on your thigh. “This is pretty.” Donghyuck grabs at the lacey strap, pulling it away from your skin to let it gently snap back.
“It’s not the most traditional thing in the world for royals to wear one, but I thought you might enjoy it,” you muse.
“What do I do with it?”
“I was thinking… you could take it off with your teeth.”
“My teeth?” Donghyuck looks up at you with surprise.
“Your teeth,” you confirm, “but… maybe also take your shirt off first.”
“Is this tradition?” your husband asks as he begins to unbutton his top.
“Not entirely,” you giggle, enjoying the look of his tanned skin as more and more of it is revealed.
When you’d known Donghyuck before, he’d always been a little scrawny, but in his years away, he’s built muscle, and the sight of it is making you drool.
There are a few scars that litter his skin as well, scars that likely have stories you’ll have to ask about later, but right now, your focus is of a more primal nature.
Donghyuck shrugs his shirt to the floor, then he gets down on the bed between your legs. He starts peppering your calf in kisses, slowly ascending to your knee, then your thigh.
The feeling of his breath makes you groan and he looks up at you with dark eyes. 
“Keep going,” you urge, grabbing at the bed sheets. 
His teeth tease along the flimsy garter, and once he has an acceptable grip, he begins to tug it down your leg. Donghyuck moves slowly, toying with you and building the suspense. 
You can feel your pussy beginning to throb with need already, and when the garter is discarded, Donghyuck’s lips take the same path up your leg again, but this time, he doesn’t stop where the material had just been.
He continues until his breath is fanning across your covered core, and it makes you whine, gripping the sheets tighter.
“Can I take these off too?” Donghyuck asks, voice low as one of his fingers teases the waistband of your thong.
“Please,” you whimper, lifting your hips a little to help him remove the only piece of clothing still standing between your husband and what you both want most.
Your panties are gone in a flash, and then two hands are snaking under your thighs, adjusting your core. Donghyuck licks his lips, looking up at you. 
You expect him to say something, but he doesn’t, instead, he dives in, licking your pussy and sucking your clit into his mouth while you release a strangled cry. One of your hands flies down to tangle in his hair, and Donghyuck groans deeply, sending a vibration through your core that lights up your entire form.
As a Princess, your virtue has always been protected. You’re a virgin, and while you know about sex, you’ve never known what it is to experience it with another.
Nothing could have prepared you for this, for the way your entire body tingles with pleasure so all-consuming that you can’t help but moan desperately. 
Donghyuck eats you like he’s been a man starved, unashamed to be a little messy. 
There’s something sinful about it, but something that also feels so right- so correct.
Donghyuck adjusts slightly, and you feel a finger begin to gently circle your wet hole. He pushes just the tip in and you mewl from the sensation. Your husband takes your sound as an affirmation to continue, so he presses further inside of you, still moving slowly and gently to allow your body to adjust to the foreign intrusion.
You love how he’s taking his time with you, listening to your body and your cues.
It seems clear that he’s aware this is your first time with a man, and he’s not in some eager, self-gratifying rush to get to the part where he’s the one feeling good. 
Soon he has a whole finger inside of you while he continues to suck on your clit, and he pumps the digit slowly, working you open in the most delightful way.
“Can I add another?” he asks, gently kissing your sensitive bud as he looks up at you.
“Yeah, I’m ready,” you nod, swallowing thickly.
Donghyuck returns to his task, licking at your clit to distract you from the stretch that comes with two fingers now slowly working into you.
He adjusts his hand again, crooking the digits up to hit a sweet spot inside of you that makes your toes curl.
“Oh my God-” you whimper, clutching at the sheets again.
“Feels good?” he asks.
“Feels amazing,” you confirm, eyes shut as you can enjoy the pleasure that’s coursing through you.
Donghyuck applies more pressure to the sweet spot inside of you, thrusting in an almost rhythmic fashion as he sucks harder on your clit. 
You’re all consumed by the throbbing ecstasy that’s bubbling out from your core and into the entirety of your body. 
“Do you think you might cum for me soon, Princess?” Donghyuck asks.
“I… I think so,” you nod, swallowing thickly.
“Take your time,” he assures you, “when the feeling hits, just let go for me.” 
He continues to worship your pussy, licking and sucking and stroking and fingering- your toes begin to curl from the pleasure, and the feeling is building quickly in your abdomen. 
You’re gasping now, panting and moaning, clutching at the bed desperately. “Hyuck-” you whimper.
He responds by sucking your clit even harder and your thighs move to close around him, but your husband pushes them open with his free hand. He finger fucks you even harder, and before you know it, the tension in your stomach is snapping.
A wave of euphoria unlike anything you’ve ever felt washes over you like a warm summer rain. You gasp loudly, pleasure throbbing out from your core and engulfing you.
Donghyuck doesn’t stop, he works you through it, ignoring the way your thighs are shaking around him, the way you’re clawing at the bed and crying out.
“Hyuck!” you whimper, finally unable to take any more of the pleasure-
Your husband pulls away from your core, and you hear him lick his lips, but you’re too exhausted to open your eyes.
He pulls away from your core. “You look good like this, Princess.” 
You don’t even have the words to respond, chest heaving, heart racing-
The bed dips as he lays down next to you, and you feel him push some hair away from your face. His lips brush your cheek, his hand moving down to your breast, where he begins to massage your flesh.
“That might be enough for tonight,” he muses softly.
“What?” Your eyes snap open.
“You look pretty tired.”
“Hyuck,” you take a deep breath, “I… I need you to fuck me.”
He stares at you in shock. “I’ve never heard that word come from your mouth before, Princess, this must be pretty serious.”
“It is,” you insist, cupping his cheek. “Please.” 
“If that’s what my Princess wants,” Donghyuck concedes with a grin. “I’ll go slowly, I promise.”
He gets up again, and you watch him take off his pants.
You’ve never seen a cock in real life before, and the way his springs up makes your mouth water.
He’s thick, and a decent size too, or so you assume. You lick your lips in anticipation as he gets back onto the bed with you.
He moves between your thighs, and your legs wrap around him instinctively, your hand cupping his cheek again.
You draw your lips to his as he begins to gently rut, his cock gliding between your soaked pussy lips with easy, teasing by your clit, but not entering you.
It’s as if he’s toying with you, and your patience runs thin very fast. “Please,” you whimper again.
“You got it, Princess.”
He grabs the base of his cock, adjusting so his tip can fully tease your hole now. He pushes in slightly and you grab his shoulders, squeezing and making him stop.
You can feel him watching your facial expressions as you get used to the largest intrusion you’ve ever had inside of you. 
“Just breathe,” he tells you, bringing his lips to your throat in an effort to soothe.
“Okay,” you nod, “okay, deeper.”
He follows your instructions, gently pushing in another inch only to pause and wait for your affirmation to continue.
This continues for a few minutes, Donghyuck diligently taking his time and allowing you to acclimatize to his cock until he’s fully sheathed in your wet and throbbing core. 
“Okay, okay,” you nod, breathing heavily. “You can move now.”
Donghyuck cups your cheek, kissing you softly as he begins to gently rock back and forth. Your pussy walls are getting used to the sensation, and the slick from your orgasm makes things very smooth as he gradually increases the intensity.
You begin to moan from the feeling of him, clawing at his shoulders again, kissing him desperately as he makes love to you in your wedding bed.
One of Donghyuck’s hands moves down to your thigh, hiking it higher on his hip. Suddenly he’s hitting a deep spot inside of you, making you cry out as your toes curl with pleasure.
“Good?” he asks, pressing kisses along your throat.
“Good,” you confirm, whimpering desperately.
“You’re so tight,” Donghyuck groans.
“Maybe you’re just big,” you counter, stifling a giggle.
It’s shocking how natural this feels- there’s no awkwardness with Donghyuck, after all, you might be newlyweds from an arranged marriage, but you’ve been friends for most of your lives. You couldn’t imagine a better man to be with, a better man to be taking care of you for your first time.
“Princess,” Donghyuck moans, “I… I don’t think I’m going to last very long.”
“How… how long do men usually last?” you ask.
Donghyuck chuckles. “It all depends, but- eating you out got me pretty worked up, and now your pussy is gripping me so fucking well-”
God, his words are sinful to a Princess like you, but they’re sinful in the best possible way, making your pussy flutter with pleasure.
You’re making this man come undone, as he’d made you cum, and that knowledge makes pride burn through you.
“Don’t try to last,” you tell him, cupping his face. “Let go.”
Donghyck stares at you for a moment before smashing his lips to yours. He grabs one of your hands and intertwines your fingers, pressing it to the pillow to use as leverage as he begins to fuck you even harder.
The whole bed is rocking by now, each powerful thrust making you mewl and whimper.
“Fuck, fuck-” Donghyuck groans, burying his face against your throat again. “Shit, I’m gonna cum-” 
You hold him tightly, stroking his hair as his thrusts falter, a deep moan escaping his lips.
You can feel the unfamiliar sensation of something filling up your core, and you wrap your legs tighter around his hips, keeping him locked inside of you as he fills you with his release.
He’s groaning and gasping in your ear and it’s one of the most erotic sounds you’ve ever heard.
You can sense when he’s come down from his high, but you continue to hold him, your chests pressed together, racing hearts beating as one.
This man is your husband, and you know he’ll take care of you. It’s a different life path laid out before you than you’d perhaps imagined when you were younger, but you know that as long as you’re with Lee Donghyuck, everything will be just fine.
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☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! Short but sweet this month, longer things to come for nct in February :)
🍭 support me by. sending a tip here or here - or become a patron to access monthly bonus content and extensions for fics like this one :) find the Patreon teaser below! 
🔮 preview. In the five years you’ve been married to Donghyuck, he’s helped you come out of your sexually repressed shell. You’ve even tried things with him that you never even thought you’d be interested in. While Donghyuck can be soft and gentle for you, as he was on your wedding night, he’s still a Lee, and that factor comes with its fair share of darker tastes.
cw/ tw. cw/ tw.  Unprotected sex, squirting, bondage, use of toys (vibrator), impreg/breeding kink, multiple positions, dirty talk, praise, fingering, breast worship, body worship, etc…   I petnames. (hers) princess
👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.3k I teaser wc. 120
🌙 starring. Haechan x afab!Reader
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bonus
“Happy anniversary,” Jeno grins as he shows up at your compound, with Mark in tow. 
“Thank you,” you smile, welcoming them into the house.
Jeno is the favorite uncle of your two children, and it’s clear that he feels his congratulatory diligence is done, as he rushes past you to pick up your son and daughter, one for each arm. Mark, in contrast, bears some of the manners that you were used to much of your life, and he steps into your home. “Did you have a nice day?” he asks.
“A lovely family day,” you nod, stepping closer to Mark and lowering your voice, “but between us, I think Hyuck and I are both ready for some alone time.”
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☀️ to read the full fic AND 2.3k bonus NOW, subscribe to my Patreon, then click here
👹 or check out what else is on my patreon here
🔮if nothing strikes your fancy, check out my m.list
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general taglist
@gotshinct - @subhyuck - @fraechan - @learnthisfeeling
@runahways - @d-abin - @milkteade - @woogyuhae 
@anothershorthuman - @nihxxy - @vantxx95 - @bangshii
@poutypoutybin - @notbeforelong - @creepybakeoven
@ninetechculture - @yungiland - @suhsfam - @binchangf
@chogiwapadada - @librarian-stacks - @meowniee
@learnthisfeeling - @gigilame - @cumtrov3rsy
@mocha000 - @darthlunaa​ - @just-here-to-read-01​ - @shiningnono
@lovelyhan - @grilledbananas - @sourkimchi
As I was short on time this month and unable to do a teaser, here's another shout out to some of my favourite blogs who interact with my work, I love you guys endlessly
@bobathi - @amazinggraxia - @bluempire425-blog -
@twililty - @cheolaholic - @babieculture
@meowniee - @ridenotpark - @ollieollieoctopus
@axo-l0tl - @blspphr3 - @roseandpeaches
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nightprompts · 3 days ago
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&. 𝐧𝐨𝐬𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐮 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬.
(  dialogue  prompts  taken  from  nosferatu  (2024),  directed  by  robert  eggers.  feel  free  to  edit  and  change  as  you  seem  fit.  ) 
❛ come to me. ❜
❛ a guardian angel. a spirit of comfort. spirit of any celestial sphere. anything. hear my call. ❜
❛ you wakened me from an eternity of darkness. ❜
❛ you are not for the living. you are not for human kind. ❜
❛ and shall you be one with me ever-eternally? ❜
❛ come here. there’s nothing to be afraid of. ❜
❛ i wish i could stay, my love. ❜
❛ why have you killed these beautiful flowers? ❜
❛ i must tell you my dream. ❜
❛ i’d never been so happy as that moment… as i held hands with death. ❜
❛ i wish you to have all you deserve. ❜
❛ you mustn’t leave. i love you too much. ❜
❛ i will stay with you until you are fast asleep. ❜
❛ uh, forgive me. i only wish to stay one night. ❜
❛ by god’s name, never speak of that castle. ❜
❛ i banish you, i banish you with garlic. ❜
❛ beware of his shadow. ❜
❛ the shadow covers you in a nightmare. ❜
❛ you are late. the midnight hour has passed. ❜
❛ i wish you to do as i request. ❜
❛ i will be addressed as the honor of my blood demands it.❜
❛ speak not of it again! ❜
❛ take heed what you do. ❜
❛ i might ease your wound. ❜
❛ come by the fire. ❜
❛ your face shows you unwell. ❜
❛ do you ever feel at times as if you were not… as if you were not a person? ❜
❛ look at the sky. look at the sea. does it never call to you, urge you? ❜
❛ you are fortunate in your love. ❜
❛ now are we neighbors. ❜
❛ it is late. you must wish to retire. ❜
❛ i have been enduring the most irregular dreams. i fear i am taken ill. ❜
❛ it is a black omen to journey in poor health. you will remain and well rest yourself. ❜
❛ dream of me. only me. ❜
❛ oh, he’s coming to me. ❜
❛ i cannot resist you, my love. ❜
❛ i am no one. i am his servant. ❜
❛ look, this is a pretty one. his lordship likes the pretty ones… ❜
❛ you are lost in his shadow. ❜
❛ soon i will no longer be a shadow to you. ❜
❛ soon our flesh shall embrace and we shall be as one. ❜
❛ i have not failed your lordship! ❜
❛ embrace me, my boy. i am so rejoiced to see you. ❜
❛ my dear creature, yes, i am he, and i am hither come to help you. ❜
❛ my dreams grow darker. ❜
❛ does evil come from within us or from beyond? ❜
❛ i shall persist to join you every night… first in sleep, then in your arms. ❜
❛ everything will be mixed with abomination, and you’ll be knee-deep in blood. ❜
❛ you are promised to me! ❜
❛ i will end this plague. this devil. ❜
❛ he hasn’t found you. ❜
❛ i feared i’d never see you again. ❜
❛ you shall crave of me nothing. ❜
❛ the bells of dawn shall toll in despair of my coming. and i shall taste of you. ❜
❛ pray, forgive me for all the troubles i have caused you. ❜
❛ i am only glad you have become yourself again. ❜
❛ may i… stay with you tonight? ❜
❛ this creature is a force more powerful than evil. it is death itself. ❜
❛ i have seen things in this world that would’ve made isaac newton crawl back into his mother’s womb. ❜
❛ i have wrestled with the devil as jacob wrestled the angel in peniel. ❜
❛ if we are to tame darkness, we must first face that it exists. ❜
❛ i have felt you crawling like a serpent in my body. ❜
❛ love is inferior to you. ❜
❛ i told you, you are not of humankind. ❜
❛ i am an appetite. nothing more. ❜
❛ i lay within the darkest pit. till you did wake me, enchantress, and stirred me from my grave. ❜
❛ you are my affliction. ❜
❛ i care nothing of your afflictions. ❜
❛ yet even now we are fated. ❜
❛ your passion is bound to me. ❜
❛ you cannot love. ❜
❛ yet i cannot be sated without you. ❜
❛ remember how once we were? ❜
❛ i abhor you. ❜
❛ i will leave you three nights. tonight was the first. ❜
❛ tonight you denied yourself, and thereby, you suffer me to vanish up the lives of those you love. ❜
❛ you revel in my torture. ❜
❛ upon the third night, you will submit, or he you call your husband shall perish by my hand. ❜
❛ till you bid me come shall you watch the world become as naught. ❜
❛ tell me, what is this insufferable darkness? ❜
❛ nothing you can say will shake me, for there is a devil in this world, and i have met him. ❜
❛ i’ve brought this evil upon us. ❜
❛ i sought company. i sought… tenderness, and i called out. ❜
❛ at first, it was sweet. i had never known such bliss. yet it turned to torture. ❜
❛ it was you that gave me the courage to be free of my shame. ❜
❛ he took me as his lover then, and now he has come back. ❜
❛ all my sleeping thoughts are of him every night. ❜
❛ don’t touch me! i am not to be touched. ❜
❛ i’ll be good. i promise. ❜
❛ you could never please me as he could. ❜
❛ yes! take me! ❜
❛ kiss me. kiss my heart. ❜
❛ let him see. let him see our love. ❜
❛ without you, i will become a demon. ❜
❛ you’re safe with me. ❜
❛ keep away from me. i am unclean. ❜
❛ he will murder you if i do not go to him. ❜
❛ kill him i will. he shall never harm you again. ❜
❛ i can weep no longer, for i have no more tears to shed. ❜
❛ the grim reaper wields his heavy scythe with every change of wind. ❜
❛ the monster left you to the wolves, yet you prevailed. ❜
❛ his pull to me is so powerful, so terrible, yet my spirit cannot be evil as his. ❜
❛ we must know evil to be able to destroy it. ❜
❛ you are our salvation. ❜
❛ i bid you, come to me. ❜
❛ your oath re-pledged. so too shall be our flesh. you are mine. ❜
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strnilolover · 2 days ago
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the first time paparazzi!matt spots famous!reader
warnings : little bit of stalker activities. nothing else?
matt’s body slumped into his couch, a long sigh slipping past his lips as he dug his phone out of the pocket of his jeans. he just settled into his new place—his place away from nick and chris, a place back home in boston.
matt and his brothers moved back to boston not long ago, them all collectively agreeing that they all missed home too much to keep going between L.A and there. so, they ditched their youtube career for the most part, only posting here and there.
now here he was, in his own home, nick and chris also in their respective homes. they all had more than enough money to last themselves, making it just that much easier to find their own homes.
after fishing his phone out of his pocket, he leaned back, resting his head against the back of the cushion. “fuck.” it was too quiet, something he liked, but he wasn’t used to it.
gently, he opened up his tiktok. browsing the for you page as he scrolled past edits of himself and his brothers. social media wasn’t his personal favorite—he was never on it.
suddenly though, his thumb stops. an edit flashing on his screen of a very pretty girl casted in multiple clips. the beat of the song echoed throughout his quiet living room—his eyes zeroed in on your perfect figure.
‘woah..’ was all he could think—his pupils dilating as they locked with yours.
his face grew hot, quickly clicking on the hashtag that displayed your name at the bottom. multiple edits flashed in front of his eyes, along with your own tiktok profile. ‘how have i never seen her before?’ he thought. surely he would’ve known about you, considering he was from boston.
his fingers hovered over your profile, hesitating before clicking down on it. videos of you popped up—looking more prettier than the last. he noticed a link to your instagram in the bio, deciding to navigate there. i mean, he felt like he was already in too deep.
you were cute—no—absolutely beautiful. each photo captured your hair perfectly done, your short skirts and tight dresses showing off every curve of your body. he couldn’t look away.
you were from boston, younger than him of course, by five years. a new coming actress, and someone who modeled and sang as well.
matt could feel the front of his jeans tighten, his dick straining against the front of the fabric. he knew it was wrong to feel this way about someone so much younger than him, but he couldn’t help it.
he had to know more about you—to get closer to you.
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imsofreakingtired · 19 hours ago
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sevika missing date night angst/comfort‼️
thanks for the request!
not sure if this is what you had in mind, but hope you enjoy :)
know it's for the better
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“and when broken bodies are washed ashore who am i to ask for more, more, more? but you’re breathing in my open mouth you’re the gun in my lips that will blow my brains out”
~~~
content: light angst, fluff if you squint ig..?
~~~
The candles are lit. You watch them burn steadily, casting long shadows on the walls, making the peeling paint and cracked plaster look like some sort of lost art from ancient times, better times….
You’re wearing the only fine piece of clothing you own—a black jacket made of real leather, something swiped from a Piltover flea market long ago, before the bridge became a battle zone. Your lips are painted with precious red lipstick. The clock ticks, every second mocking you, and the bottle of aged wine sits between two empty glasses.
Sevika told you she would come by eleven. It is now nearing twelve.
You know people do not have the luxury of dating in the Undercity. They don’t have the leisure to spend long hours in each other’s arms, in the glow of each other’s company. Not when there was barely even enough food to go around, when children’s hungry cries filled the nights and innocent people were arrested from their beds without even a warrant, snatched away to Stillwater. You know that in all likelihood, Sevika was still with Vander and Silco in the Last Drop, plotting and arguing about the revolution, the reformation of Zaun.
But she had promised tonight she would be yours, and Sevika never made promises she couldn’t keep.
You don’t want to be angry yet. Nor do you want to be worried. And you don’t want to feel selfish, either—sitting up in an empty apartment without any heating or running water, lipstick on your mouth when others didn’t even have clothes for the winter, a full bottle of wine on the table. Waiting for a lover you have no right to have.
When the clock ticks twelve-thirty, you stand up with a sigh and blow out the candles. No use wasting precious wax. You hesitate at the table, eyeing the glasses. You think, fuck it. You fill one of the glasses and drink the wine slowly, bitterly.
Sevika always said that you were the only reason she fought for Zaun. That you made it all worth it. Well, if you were so important to her, was it really too much to ask for just half a night to see her face?
You take off your jacket and drape it over your chair, then you take the glass of wine to your bed and kick off your shoes before lying down. The wine fills your head with sleep and resentment, and the thoughts come and go in waves. Before long your annoyance melts and you are only filled with a deep shame. Sevika will never love another person, you think, as nearly as she loves the cause. She will always be happier straining her body, giving everything she has, to the fight, than she would be living a quiet life. A quiet life with you.
Your eyelids feel heavy, but you keep watching the door drowsily, in a stupid half-hope that Sevika will come after all. You feel the tension drain from your body, a defeat. Sevika will always choose to fight. And you will always choose to wait for her. You would wait for her all through the night, all through the day, if you had to.
~~~
You don’t know when you finally fell asleep, but it seems like both an eternity and only a few seconds before you feel a warm calloused hand cupping your face, hear a familiar deep voice in your ear.
“Baby,” Sevika says softly.
You stir, not quite awake, force your eyes open to stare at her blearily through the darkness.
“I thought you weren’t coming,” you mumble.
“Are you mad?” Sevika asks.
You aren’t mad. You can’t be mad. For one thing, you’re dead-tired, and you aren’t even quite sure whether or not you’re dreaming all of this. But you can see the beautiful outline of Sevika’s face, and it’s enough to feel her hand on your skin, her voice so close to your ear. You reach up and take her hand, holding it against your face.
“You gotta leave again?” you ask.
“No.”
“Then stay with me.”
She gives a low chuckle. “That’s what I was hoping to do.”
You move over to the side of the bed so Sevika can lie down beside you. She slips an arm under your head, wraps the other around your waist, and pulls you close to her, spooning you in her body. She kisses the crook of your neck. She doesn’t say it, but you can tell by the way she holds you that she missed you.
“You better still be here when I wake up in the morning,” you murmur.
“Count on it,” she says, her voice already thick with sleep.
You smile and let yourself drift away into your dreams.
Dreams of a quiet life, a sunlit life.
With Sevika.
thank you @strawberrykidneystone for the request :)
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jaggedamethyst · 13 hours ago
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easy (part 2) (bucky barnes x gn!reader)
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content: secret relationship/established relationship, miscommunication/misunderstanding, angst, self-doubt, mentions of death, cheating (kind of), not proofread
notes: part two this this...good luck lmao (a short one but it’s the right length i fear)
main masterlist
✧・゚: *✧・゚:*  
You’d been woken up by the sounds of knocks on your door. They started off normal and quickly became more frantic…aggressive, even. 
The sound of your name made you sit up on the floor. Suddenly, the door pushed open—revealing Bucky there. His hair was disheveled, clearly having run his hands through it. He hadn’t bothered with saying hi, kneeling in front of you and looking you over.
He cupped your face, “Are you okay?” He pressed into you more, nudging you to sit up. “What are you doing down here?”
You reached out to him, making sure you hadn’t tricked yourself, that he was really here. 
He continued, “What happened? Sharon said you disappeared and she couldn’t find you.” 
Somehow Bucky was missing the point. You could only blink at that, knowing that his energy was so misplaced. Why would he care about you right now when this entire relationship had so quickly gone awry? Why would he focus on you being on the floor when he ruined this—him. 
Bucky spoke again, rubbing his hands up and down your arms. “I called you a shit ton, where’s your phone?” 
“Don’t know.” 
He paused, confused at your first and only words to him being so carelessly spoken. “Steve said he saw you—that you just…ran.“ 
You nodded. You had ran. Swift motions out of the building and to your place weren’t enough to erase the imagery in your brain. The way Bucky had seemed so carefree—so happy. With someone who wasn’t you, most importantly. A woman who looked so remarkably different than you. 
Your skin and body physically repelled him—pushing him away without a thought. Moving to stand, you watched his face twist in hurt. 
“How was recon?” 
“It was fine…am I missing something?” 
You ignored the question, asking your own. “You said Steve told you he saw me?” He nodded. “Did he know who I was?”
“Course he knew who you were—he’s my best friend.” 
You bought your in front of you, wringing them together. “Does she?” The question was meant to quell your anxiety, but instead made the prospect of him cheating infinitely harder to swallow. You looked at him expectantly, an answer seeming to escape him—despite you both knowing what happened that evening. 
“Does who?” 
“Natasha…Romanoff…the one you went on recon with.” You moved your head as you slowly spoke the words—breaking it down for him. “Does she know about me? About us?” 
“You know that we keep this a secret for your safety. We’ve talked about this a thousand times-“ 
“No, you keep it a secret and you've talked about it.” You moved to sit on the couch, “I agreed because I love you and I understand the stress of your job. But what I saw today,” you shook your head and looked up at him across the room. “That wasn’t a secret for my benefit. It was for yours.” 
“That’s just not true.” Bucky moved from his spot, finally, stepping across the room to sit beside you. “You have to understand my perspective on this. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I was the cause of anything happening to you.”
You twisted your entire face, staring up with an incredulous look. “Did you stop to consider how much worse it would be to have to live with the knowledge of you doing god knows what every time you’re not here?” You paused, feeling his hands attempt to wrap around you. Moving back instantly, you continued, “What happened with her? What haven’t I seen?” 
“Nothing.” Bucky waved his hands in front of him, emphasizing his words. “Nothing happened-“ 
“I saw you. Sharon showed me the feed, Bucky.” 
His face glazed over in realization—not that you had seen him with her, but that you had seen him with her. Bucky’s head started to move on its own, searching for how to make sense of this for you. “That wasn’t what it looked like.” 
A huff escaped you. Without a second thought you got up and moved toward the door, Bucky right on your trail. “If we’re gonna act like this you can just go.” You put a hand on the door handle, raising a brow at him. “You of all people know I won’t sit here and look stupid. Not when I’ve already wasted so much time waiting for you.” 
A moment passed, the reality of what you were saying lingering in the room. The two of you had talked about it before, how you’d waited so long for someone like him to appear. There’d been years of self discovery and “loving yourself first” before Bucky showed you that someone else could. When that happened, you settled for the relationship existing in its very specific confines—under the lock and key of his life’s restrictions. Even then, he’d get a call; people needed him. Bucky would go away for however long, and you’d wait. The amount of time spent yearning for the world to suddenly be quicker for you, for him, was immense. In every instance it seemed that despite the relatively common cosmic occurrences he’d faced, none of Bucky’s opponents could grant your wish—to get the man you loved back to you sooner. 
“I’m sorry,” he finally spoke. You watched his hands ball into a fist, angered with himself. The mechanical whir of his arm filling the empty space. “I don’t feel that way about her.” 
You scoffed at that. He sounded so textbook it was physically making you ill. 
He continued, though, “She’s been my friend for a long time. We spend a lot of time together…and I wanted to tell her about you.” He inhaled, “But I didn’t. I don’t know why.” 
“Did you sleep with her?” 
“Of course not…and she kissed me. I regret making her feel like there was even a slight chance of me seeing her that way—because I don’t. I can’t.” His voice wavered, “Can’t because I only love you.”
He reached a hand out to you and it caused you to move away from him—impossibly closer to the door. 
“Bucky…I don’t think I can do this.” 
“Doll, please-“
You waved a hand, interrupting him, “Wait—just…listen.” You let go of the door, fully looking at him now. “I don’t think I can be with you if it’s like this.” He let you continue, “I know you want to protect me, but all of this has hurt me more than it could’ve ever helped. I feel so removed from you—like I don’t know you outside of our apartment walls.” Sweat had accumulated on your palms, making you realize how anxiety-inducing this had been. “I haven’t felt confident in myself around you in…a while-“
“But-“ 
“Bucky, please.” He nodded, stilling himself in commitment to let you speak. “That’s not your fault…but I think I need space to figure out why that is.” 
Bucky whispered your name, a shakiness on his voice. “I just…can’t stomach the idea of you dead…dying...because of me.” 
“I would’ve.” You moved to open the door. “I think I would’ve been fine facing death as long as everyone knew I loved you first.” You stepped back from the threshold and offered him the space to step out. “But they don’t. Nobody knows except us. That hurts.” 
Bucky didn’t speak as he stepped toward the hall. His entire figure seemed to hang lower than normal, and it pained you to see. You felt the heat of tears in your eyes, but you wouldn’t cry. There was a sort of satisfaction in facing this—breaking up with Bucky. It was always going to happen, you reasoned, so bearing your soul…crying…would’ve been too easy.  
tags (tried to get everyone who asked lol)
@julvrs @shanksstrawhat @vicmc624 @preeyas-world @ilovemcuff @winchestert101 @caity1995 @hereforfun-31 @cjand10 @nadinekr @wintercrows @read-just-cant @behindmygreyeyes @ordelixx @pklol @bookworm3570 @largarei @fairlyfatale @kittenkiryu
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draconym · 1 day ago
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Tell us more about the Spricket Dungeon? I'm admittedly morbidly curious now
A lot of people have a spricket dungeon in their basement. Sprickets, or "spider crickets," commonly called cave crickets or camel crickets, are cave adapted (trogloxene) fauna and have been living alongside humans (also trogloxenes) for probably tens of thousands of years. The oldest known illustration of an insect is of a cave cricket, carved into a bison bone in France somewhere between twelve and seventeen thousand years ago.
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While harmless, a cave cricket is like if a water buffalo were the size of a blueberry and could subsist entirely on mold and autocannibalism. So any dark and humid place where you might find a hint of mildew or dust seems sufficient to sustain a breeding population, and if they somehow end up in a sterile environment, cave crickets can live for months without any food at all. Roaches get all the credit for being nature's most indestructible vermin, but I think cave crickets are equally likely to withstand nuclear apocalypse, especially considering their tendency to live deep underground.
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My old house's spricket dungeon was a crawl space under the stairs where we kept snow shovels, paint cans, and bicycles. There was a lot of debris in the closet when we first moved in, and I suspect us cleaning it out was what started the crickets' slow population decline. My housemates and I occasionally caught them or laid down duct tape traps, but mostly the crickets stayed in their artificial cave and only one or two would venture out into the rest of the basement each day.
Stomping on them was out of the question. Not only did it seem too violent, it was also deeply unpleasant to imagine popping them like grapes underfoot. Additionally, those fuckers are fast. I mentioned this in my last post, but their primary defense mechanism really is launching themselves at your face, and it's very effective. Imagine if the water buffalo the size of a blueberry could jump three feet in the air, and it was pissed.
It didn't usually disturb the crickets if you opened the door to pull out a bike. They were mostly carpeting the far wall of unpainted cinderblocks. But if you turned on the closet light bulb, they often started hopping in every direction, and their fat bodies thumping against the linoleum made a hollow 'pop' sound similar to a popcorn kernel in a paper bag. Now imagine dozens of them doing that at once in your direction.
Over the thirteen years we lived in that house, my housemates and I saw the population of sprickets dwindle to about a dozen, but we rarely went more than a week without seeing one. They're much less common in the house we moved to a year and a half ago. We see perhaps one small one a month, rarely any bigger than a skittle, and significantly more timid when not surrounded by an entire cricket metropolis.
I don't particularly want to share my house with them. But they are kind of an inevitability in most human homes, as they have been since we were living in caves. So I do try to regard them as fellow cave dwellers with as much awe and kindness as I can muster, whether I see them in my basement or in the Appalachian karst.
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xiaq · 15 hours ago
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Mom, don’t read this.
Once upon a time, 15-year-old X got her motorcycle license. For three years she was extremely responsible with this privilege, until she went to college.
Unlike her peers, who expressed their desire for rebellion in drinking, drugs, and sexually transmitted diseases, X decided her particular brand of youthful nonconformity would involve motorsports. Namely, street racing.
So, at 18, she set off to seek her fortune with a group of nighttime street-racers that, to be fair, met in a rural area that was unlikely to pose a risk to standard motorists. There were watchmen with walkie talkies (actually, I’m going to show my age, here, they mostly had those horrendous yellow phones that doubled as walky talkies, you remember those? the chirps?) who kept the area clear, and warned of any disturbances.
She went a few times. Raced a few times (won a few times!). It was all, frankly, anti-climactic after a steady diet of progressively more absurd Fast and Furious movies.
Until one night, when someone on watch-duty messed up. Or maybe this was a planned sting of some sort. But the cops arrived; multiple cars. And pretty much everyone ran.
Now, I’d never been in trouble in my life. I had a 4.0 and I was an only child with the definition of helicopter parents (excepting the motorcycle license, and no, I still don’t understand that logic. Can my 15-year-old get a motorcycle? Certainly! Can my 18-year-old headed to college next week have a curfew later than 8pm? Perish the thought! Anyway). In the split second I had to decide, my 18-year-old brain, in its infinite wisdom, said: Motorcycle fast. Police car slow.
So. You know. I…motorcycle fast-ed.
Immediately I was like. SELF!! WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU!! You just made this so much worse if they catch you!! But I was already in top gear going well over 100mph, so that train of thought quickly turned into: I must not get caught.
I don’t know if you’re aware of how much faster a 600CC motorcycle is than the average Crown Victoria, but just know that it’s a lot. Especially when the motorcycle rider is less than 100lbs.
So the half-dozen of us who all booked it the same direction, we know we’ve got at least one car following us, but they’re a fair ways behind. The trick is getting far enough ahead that you can quickly get off the road and hide without them seeing your exit. So we all start peeling off to find our hiding places.
Now, between our meeting location and my college, there was an IKEA. I’d bought the bookcase for my dorm there. And I’d unpacked the bookcase into my car in the IKEA parking lot, so I could throw away the giant cardboard box in the enormous blue dumpsters behind the store, rather than deal with it back on campus.
I head for the IKEA. I pull around back. I immediately turn off the bike and toe-walk my way between one of the dumpsters and the store wall, completely out of view of the street and most of the parking lot.
It’s literal minutes later that the cop car finally goes flying by, and evidently they don’t think, “hey, I should stop and check behind the IKEA dumpsters.” Several more minutes pass. No more cops.
At this point, the adrenaline turns into existential dread and shaking so bad that I have to put my kickstand down because my anxiety-ridden perfectionist body is not meant for this kind of stress, even when self-inflicted. I quietly have a panic attack, swear to never disobey the law again (unless it’s for civil protest), and, finally, when I’ve pulled myself together around an hour later, I slowly make my way home.
I never attended another race. Because I am a baby.
But I’m a baby who outran the cops, so.
A visual aid of 18-year-old X and her bike (named Shadowfax) (Shadowfax lived up to her name, that night. All hail.)
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(To be clear, I do not endorse this behavior. I could have hurt or killed myself going those speeds or even put some innocent bystander in danger had other people been out and about that night. This was very, very, stupid.)
My new boss: “Everyone come to the team meeting with a surprising story about something you’ve done in the past. Something no one would expect of you!”
Me: Googling the statute of limitation for felonies in Texas
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muletia · 19 hours ago
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So. I just read the whole ‘optimus gets minified’ and I have to ask...
May I request one for Pedraking?🙇🙇🙇🙇🙇🙇🙇🙇🙇🙇🙇🙇🙇🙇🙇🙇🙇🙇🙇🙇
— 🩷
𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐬 𝐯𝐨𝐥. 𝟐 ༘⋆✿
predaking, ratchet, smokescreen ↳ all are obsessed with you btw
word count: 1300
you used the word “request” and I am currently not accepting them, but!! I love this concept and couldn’t resist adding two other characters…
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Oh, no, he absolutely hates it
Predaking has no idea how this even happened. He went into recharge curled protectively around you, shielding you from the world and sharing his warmth, only to wake up small, confused, and utterly incapable of performing the one task his entire existence revolves around: protecting you
So how is he supposed to stay calm? How is he supposed to keep his cool when he’s defenseless? His strength, height, and power — all his greatest assets — have been stripped away. Without them, he can’t be a worthy mate for you. He wouldn’t dare even call himself that anymore. You don’t need a plushie; you need a strong partner, ready to push away any intruder and eliminate anyone who so much as approaches your love nest. In this form, he can’t offer you any of that. He can’t fulfill a single promise he made to you, which leaves him caught between fury and a crushing sense of inadequacy
But why aren’t you panicking? You look surprised, sure, but not terrified, even though you should be! You’re currently defenseless! What if someone decides to steal you away from him? And why are you cooing like he’s a sparkling and reaching out toward him? Oh, you want to pet him...
He won’t make it easy. Startled by your actions, he’ll jump away from you, insisting he doesn’t need your affection right now and that you should hold off until you figure out a solution to this mess.
But he has to stay by your side. He has to protect you, even in this form. He has to be braver, fiercer, compensating for his lost size with sheer determination. No, he won’t leave you for even a second. He’ll protect you with his entire body if necessary
So he returns to you and tries to block the entrance to your love nest, though at his current size, it’s far from impressive. Standing with his back to you, hawk-eyed and focused on the doorway, he doesn’t notice your hand snaking toward his helm. When it rests there and starts stroking, he freezes
Predaking will still try to resist. He’ll growl and brush off your affections, but with every stroke of your hand, his defiance melts away. Boldness gives way to an overwhelming need to be close to you, and soon there’s nothing left of it as he wags his tail, eagerly demanding more pets
It’ll take a long time before he remembers that he’s supposed to protect you 24/7, fully content to bask in your attention and curl up on your lap. Even your constant comments about how sweet and adorable he is stop bothering him surprisingly fast
Still, he will never accept being miniature. Being spoiled by you is undeniably delightful, but Predaking needs absolute certainty that he can defend you from hostile bots. He’ll keep searching for a way to undo this, but until then, you can enjoy your giant, adorable lap dog <3
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If Predaking hates his situation, Ratchet downright loathes it
You’ve never heard so much grumpy complaining as during the size-change incident
How can humans live like this? It’s uncomfortable, impractical, weak. You can’t reach anything, the world feels so enormous. Anyone could step on you (payback for his own words, I guess), and you’re so fragile and delicate
And then there’s your behavior toward him. He doesn’t want to be treated like a sparkling. He doesn’t want your cooing and constant repetition of how adorable he is and how much you want to smother his entire faceplate with kisses (although, deep down in his spark, that’s the one thing he truly craves, as betrayed by a subtle blue blush)
He doesn’t know when you got it into your head that he needs your constant care. He can handle himself and intends to work tirelessly until he finds a way to undo this farce. Sure, he’s five times smaller, but that doesn’t mean he’s lost all his competence. He doesn’t need a nanny — especially one who keeps interrupting his work with comments about how adorable he is
But Ratchet is also a hypocrite because, truthfully, he does need you. The sudden shift in perspective is terrifying. Giants become behemoths; they loom over him, threatening to crush him. It’s easy to feel microscopic and overwhelmed, not hard to spiral into panic and uncertainty as wild thoughts conjure up visions of being stepped on. In those moments, Ratchet needs you by his side. He needs to grab onto the hem of your shirt, to feel that you’re there, that everything is okay. You won’t leave him or let anything harm him
Of course, once the fear subsides and Ratchet feels comfortable again, he reverts to his independent and grumpy self, but he’ll stop trying to push you away. He’ll appreciate your presence, even if he never really wanted you to leave him in the first place
The constant work will exhaust him quickly, especially in such a small and frail form, and then he’ll instinctively seek you out. He’ll choose the perfect moment when no one else is in the base, find you on the couch, and climb onto you, ignoring all your questions and comments. He’s tired, doesn’t know how to fix this, and needs you. Let him at least have a few kliks of napping in arms that surround him with safety
You can even kiss his forehead. After all, it’s only fair to repay all the kisses you’ve received from him, so he can feel for himself just how wonderful they are <3
Oh, and imagine a mini jealous Ratchet. He doesn’t like that you’re spending so much time talking to some young bot when you were supposed to be helping him, so he feels the need to take action and drag you away. But he’s so tiny and not at all intimidating that his “rival” can’t take him seriously... especially when he tugs at your clothes like a grumpy sparkling
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Oh, so now he can be with you 24/7? Fantastic!
This entire situation is incredibly convenient for him. Sure, at first, he was a bit terrified and downcast that he couldn’t be the perfect partner for you, but he quickly discovered countless benefits to being minified
First and foremost, he gets to accompany you everywhere. He doesn’t leave your side, becoming your shadow. Even at his normal height, he tried to spend every free moment with you, but as a mini version, he’s with you always
Bathroom breaks? Smokescreen follows you, clutching onto the hem of your shirt (you’ll need to explain to him that just because he can fit in there with you doesn’t mean he should)
Feeling like stretching your legs after sitting too long and showering him with affection? He toddles after you, mimicking your every move
Taking a stroll around the base? Definitely not alone.
He’ll drain your energy before evening comes. Since he’s shrunk down to the size of a sparkling, why not act like one to get what he wants?
Need a break from his constant presence and his unique talent for never shutting up? Well, you’re going to have a huge problem because simply interrupting a cuddling session already spells trouble. Trying to untangle yourself from his limbs while avoiding sharp edges of his armor, Smokescreen sprawls across your torso, pinning you to the couch. And even when small, he’s shockingly heavy, effectively trapping you in place. Now you can continue your cuddling and smooching session
He won’t feel a shred of shame or hesitation in using his charm, either. He knows perfectly well that you find him adorable, so he’ll use his big, puppy-like optics to manipulate you to his advantage — for example, to get another round of being carried in your arms
But the most affectionately unbearable he gets is when you need to leave the base. You can’t leave him alone! What if someone steps on him? Or he gets lost in the hangar? You have to stay by his side (forever) at least until Ratchet can fix him. Smokescreen has no qualms about clinging to your leg if it means keeping you near. And no force will pry him off until you say you’ll stay the night <3
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cosmiclily · 3 days ago
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chapter one: heartache
wc: 2.1k
Five years. Vi and Caitlyn had been together for five years before Caitlyn decided that the exposure from Vi’s life as a musician was “too much.” She said she was already dealing with enough from her mother’s expectations, constant scrutiny, and the pressure to be perfect. Being tied to someone constantly in the spotlight only amplified the chaos she was trying to escape.
But how do you just walk away from five years? Five years of love, growth, and shared memories. They had been through everything together—the awkward phases, the big milestones, the small, intimate moments that made life feel worth it. They were each other’s first in almost everything: first love, first heartbreak, first time believing someone could truly know and accept them for who they were.
Vi couldn’t imagine a future without Caitlyn in it. Caitlyn wasn’t just her girlfriend; she was her rock, her balance, her safe place in a world that could be loud and overwhelming. With her, life made sense. Without her, it felt like the ground had been pulled out from under her feet.
Now, Vi was left standing in the ruins of what they had built together, forced to pick up the shattered pieces and figure out who she was without Caitlyn. Every corner of her life reminded her of what she’d lost—the songs Caitlyn inspired, the jokes they shared together, the faint trace of her perfume still clinging to the throw pillows they’d picked out together.
Relearning herself wasn’t just hard—it felt impossible. How do you start over when so much of your identity has been intertwined with someone else? How do you let go of someone who was your past, your present, and the future you were certain you’d have?
Vi’s days were spent trying to fill the void Caitlyn left behind, and her nights were haunted by the deafening silence where laughter and love used to live.
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“Wake up!” you say, shaking Vi’s body aggressively. “I sure hope you’re not dead or still drunk because we leave in 30 minutes. Pack your shit.” You’re already gathering her clothes scattered across the room, shoving them into her beat-up suitcase. It’s barely holding together, much like its owner.
The thing is, you love Vi—you really do. She’s one of your best friends, and without a doubt, one of the most talented people you’ve ever met. But ever since her breakup with Caitlyn, she’s been a complete wreck. All she does these days is drink and mope around like the world ended.
When she first came to you, heartbroken and teary-eyed, spilling every detail of the split, you were genuinely sad for her. Five years with someone isn’t easy to walk away from. But, selfishly, you couldn’t help but think,“At least we’ll get some killer songs out of this.” Heartbreak always fuels the best music, right? You figured she’d take her pain and pour it into the band.
Instead, she spends 85% of her days drowning herself in booze and picking fights with strangers in dive bars, and the other 15% passed out somewhere she probably shouldn’t be. Honestly, it’s exhausting keeping up with her. At least this time, she actually made it back to her own hotel room instead of crashing on some stranger’s couch—or worse.
“Violet, seriously,” you snap, shaking her again when all you get is a groan. “You’re a grown-ass woman, and I’m not your babysitter. Get up, get dressed, and try not to look like you’ve been on a week-long bender. The van is leaving, and I’m not letting you make us late again.”
She finally stirs, one bloodshot eye cracking open as she glares at you. “What’s your problem?” she mutters, her voice gravelly and tired.
“My problem? My problem is that you’re wasting your talent and dragging us all down with you. I get it—you’re hurt, heartbroken, life sucks. But this?” You gesture around the room, littered with empty bottles and discarded clothes. “This isn’t you, Vi. And it sure as hell isn’t the Vi this band needs right now.”
She sits up slowly, rubbing her temples like even that’s too much effort. “You don’t get it,” she mutters, her voice low. “You don’t know what it’s like to lose someone like Cait.”
You take a deep breath, softening your tone. “No, I don’t. I won’t pretend I do. But I know Caitlyn wouldn’t want you to do this to yourself. And I know you’re better than this. So, get your ass up and let’s get to work. You don’t have to fix everything right now, but at least show up—for yourself, and for us.”
She looks at you for a long moment, her face unreadable. For a second, you think she’s going to argue. But instead, she sighs heavily, dragging herself out of bed like the weight of the world is on her shoulders.
“Fine,” she mutters, running a hand through her mess of hair. “I’ll pack. But don’t expect me to look ‘presentable.’”
You snort, tossing her a clean shirt you found buried under a pile of god knows what. “Presentable’s overrated. I’ll settle for functional.”
She gives you a half-smirk, the closest thing to a smile you’ve seen from her in weeks, and starts gathering the rest of her things.
You make your way to the van, your thoughts swirling as you reflect on how much your lives have changed in such a short time. Just a few months ago, you were barely scraping by, playing gigs at any bar that would have you. Your dad thought joining a band was a terrible idea—especially since it meant you wouldn’t be going to college. He never liked Vi, or her family for that matter, constantly calling her a bad influence. He’d been saying that ever since the two of you met in high school, always claiming that Vi was the one putting reckless ideas in your head.
When you told him you were starting a band with her, he completely lost it. You could still hear the echoes of his angry voice, the awful things he said, the way he swore you’d never make it. “You’re throwing your future away for a pipe dream,” he’d yelled. “Mark my words, you’ll regret this.” Those words used to haunt you—sometimes they still do. But right now, you can’t deny the faint sense of satisfaction in knowing that you’ve proven him wrong. Sure, things aren’t perfect, but you’re here. You’re on a tour van, opening for a bigger artist, starting to get noticed by her fans. It’s not the dream yet, but it’s closer than it’s ever been.
Climbing onto the van, you spot Jinx already in her usual spot by the window, earbuds dangling around her neck as she scrolls aimlessly on her phone. She glances up when she hears you, a crooked grin forming on her face.
“Did you get her to wake up?” she asks, scrunching her nose in exaggerated disgust. “I tried, but it reeks in there. Smells like whiskey, sweat, and bad decisions.”
You roll your eyes but can’t help the small laugh that escapes you. “Yeah, she’s up. Barely. I had to practically shake her awake and threaten to leave her behind. She’s packing now, probably still half-asleep.”
Jinx smirks, leaning back in her seat and tossing her phone onto the cushion beside her. “You’re a braver soul than I am. I gave up after two knocks. You know how Vi gets when she’s hungover—like a grumpy bear. Or a bear with a hangover.”
“She’s not a bear,” you say with a sigh, dropping into the seat across from her. “She’s just… going through it. Though, honestly, I wish she’d just move on already.”
Jinx raises an eyebrow, her expression equal parts amused and frustrated. “You’ve been saying that for weeks. When does ‘going through it’ stop being an excuse? She’s dragging herself—and us—down. It’s not like we’re rolling in free passes for her to waste.”
You glance out the window, watching the early morning light streak across the horizon. She’s not wrong. Vi’s breakup with Caitlyn hadn’t just been hard on her—it had been hard on all of you. The drinking, the fights, the inconsistency... It was becoming impossible to ignore.
“Where’s Ekko?” you ask, changing the subject. “Don’t tell me he’s late too.”
Jinx shrugs lazily. “Oh, he forgot something in his room. He’s probably on his way back already. You know him—‘fashionably late’ and all that.”
As if on cue, the hotel doors swing open, and Ekko steps outside with Archie, your ever-enthusiastic manager, trailing close behind. The two are deep in conversation, their hands gesturing wildly as they talk.
“Oh, you girls are already here! Excellent.” Archie’s voice carries before he even reaches the bus. His short, chubby frame and thick british accent somehow manage to command attention wherever he goes. He’s the reason the band even had a shot, the one who saw potential when no one else did.
“I have exciting news,” Archie announces, his grin stretching ear to ear as he climbs aboard. Then, his expression falters. “But… where is Miss Violet? Don’t tell me she’s late again.”
“She’s packing,” you answer, sitting up straighter. “She’ll be out any minute.”
Archie narrows his eyes, clearly unimpressed. “Packing? At this hour? I gave everyone strict instructions to be ready by now.”
“She had a rough night,” you offer, though you feel like a broken record at this point. How many times have you covered for her?
“A rough night?” Archie throws his hands up dramatically. “She’s had a ‘rough night’ every night for the past month! If she’s not careful, she’ll burn herself out before we even get close to making it big.”
You exchange a glance with Jinx, who shrugs as if to say, He’s not wrong.
At that moment, the can door opens again, and Vi steps aboard. She looks like she just rolled out of bed—hair tousled, hoodie wrinkled, and sunglasses covering her undoubtedly bloodshot eyes.
“Morning,” she mutters, flopping into a seat without so much as a glance at Archie.
“Morning?” Archie echoes incredulously. “Miss Violet, this is hardly the professionalism I expect from you. We’re opening for one of the biggest acts of the year, and you’re showing up like you’ve just walked out of a frat house!”
Vi groans, tilting her head back against the seat. “Save it, Archie. I’m here, aren’t I?”
Archie pinches the bridge of his nose, muttering something under his breath before shaking it off. “Fine. I’ll save my lecture for later because—believe it or not—we’ve got good news. Big news.”
Everyone perks up at that, even Vi, though she does so begrudgingly.
“What kind of news?” you ask, leaning forward with curiosity.
Archie’s grin widens as he claps his hands together. “You’re being added to three more tour dates! One of which is in LA. And, if you can manage to pull yourselves together, there might even be offers for an single on the table.”
The van erupts into excited chatter, a buzz of energy filling the space. Jinx punches the air, Ekko grins from ear to ear, and even you feel a rush of exhilaration. This is what you’ve all been working for—an actual shot at something bigger.
Even Vi, slouched in her seat with her sunglasses still on, cracks a small smile. It doesn’t quite reach her eyes, but it’s there. Maybe this could be the spark she needed—the moment she finally stopped wallowing and started using all that anger and hurt for something productive.
“Quiet down, please,” Archie calls out, waving his hands to settle everyone. “I know you’re all excited, and you should be. But this will only be possible if you show your absolute best in the upcoming concerts. No more sloppiness, no more excuses. This is your chance to prove you’re ready for the big leagues.”
His words hang heavy in the air, a stark reminder of the stakes. The excitement dims just slightly, replaced by determination.
“So,” Archie continues, checking his watch, “settle down, get your heads in the game, and prepare to give it everything you’ve got. We’ll be leaving in a couple of minutes.”
Jinx leans over your seat, her voice low but tinged with excitement. “Three more shows, an album, and LA? Think we’ll survive?”
You chuckle softly, glancing at Vi, who’s staring out the window now, her expression unreadable. “We’ll survive,” you reply. “The question is whether we’ll thrive.”
Jinx snorts. “Speak for yourself. I was born to thrive.”
Despite everything, you feel a flicker of hope. This was it—the break you’d been waiting for. Now all you had to do was rise to the occasion.
──────────────────────
masterlist - chapter two
notes: i love making vi suffer 😔 it’s a character flaw im sorry
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angelseraphines · 2 days ago
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ೃ⁀➷ scarface ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🦢 ꒱
╰┈➤ berlin x hostage!reader imagine
a/n: i would like to give a special thank you to @lumillsie for the layout of this post and for the filter used on the header!
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˚ ༘♡ “i’m afraid you comrades have become our hostages.”
˚ ༘♡ you couldn’t see the man speaking, none of you could. the blindfold pressed against your face, blocking the light that shone through the polished windows, just as the criminals had blocked every avenue of escape. you stood no different to the others lined up alongside you, all you could do was listen. the nervous shuffling of feet, muffled sobs, and the erratic breathing of strangers filled the air, feeding your already frayed nerves. the tension was suffocating, tightening around your chest like an iron grip.
˚ ༘♡ you were not supposed to be here. as an executive assistant for the korean mint, your job revolved around order, organizing reports, managing schedules, ensuring things ran smoothly. yet none of that prepared you for this chaos. the only reason you were here at this godforsaken hour was because the sleazy director had called you back after your shift ended. under the pretense of a scheduling issue, he had summoned you to his office, but his leering gaze and thinly veiled intentions made you regret not making an excuse to stay home. now, that regret burned even brighter, a pang of apprehension wretched in your stomach.
˚ ༘♡ the voice came again, stony and slicing through the panicked murmurs of the hostages. heavy footsteps echoed in the vast room, measured and unhurried, each step landing with intent. your pulse quickened. the sound grew closer, louder, more oppressive, until it felt as if it would stop directly in front of you. and to your fright, it did.
˚ ༘♡ a hand reached out, rough and sure, grasping your face. it wasn’t harsh enough to hurt, but there was no tenderness in it either, only control. your breath grew unstable as you felt the blindfold torn away, the fabric scraping against your skin. the sudden exposure to light stung your eyes, but you didn’t dare look up. fear rooted you in place, your gaze fixed on the ground as your hands trembled at your sides.
˚ ༘♡ “look up.” the voice was deep, mocking, the hint of a smirk woven into the thick north korean accent. the command wasn’t shouted, but it didn’t need to be. its weight was undeniable, pressing down on you like a hand on your throat. trembling, you hesitated, your fear begging you to keep staring at the floor.
˚ ༘♡ “i said, look up.” this time, there was steel in his tone, and the words struck like a whip. your body betrayed you before your mind could argue. slowly, reluctantly, you lifted your gaze.
˚ ༘♡ and that’s when you saw him.
˚ ༘♡ a man stood before you, perhaps in his late thirties or early forties. his features were pointed and unyielding, his sun-tanned skin stretched over high cheekbones and a jaw that clenched with latent superiority. his dark hair was slicked back, further emphasizing the austerity of his appearance. he did not wear a hahoe mask like the others. you could see his face clearly, and that fact alone sent a frigid sensation of fear through your veins. there was only one conclusion to draw from this, you would not leave here alive. no one could see a criminal’s face and live to tell the tale.
˚ ༘♡ “hmm.” his voice was quiet as he pondered what was on his mind, the sound of it drawing your breath to a halt. he leaned in, his piercing gaze narrowing as it swept over your face, studying you with disturbing focus. your chest rose and fell in rapid succession, struggling to expel the air caught in your lungs.
˚ ༘♡ “take a deep breath, would you?” his words were deceptively calm, but there was an authority in them you dared not defy.
˚ ༘♡ your hands trembled as you tried to obey, forcing an unstable inhale that did little to steady your racing heart. his eyes landed on your wool coat, where your phone protruded in the pocket. before you could react, he extended his hand.
˚ ༘♡ “give it to me.”
˚ ༘♡ hesitantly, you reached into your coat, stiff with fear, and handed the device to him. the instant it left your grasp, he tossed it to the ground. the sound of the screen shattering against the cold floor jolted you, but what came next made your stomach drop. with one swift motion, he raised his boot and brought it down, crushing the phone into a pile of broken glass and metal.
˚ ༘♡ you gasped aloud, stepping back as your limbs threatened to give out. your lips parted in shock, but he remained unfazed, standing there as if nothing had happened.
˚ ༘♡ “i’m berlin,” he introduced himself, his tone harsh and taunting. his gaze didn’t move as he continued, his voice softening into a contemplative murmur. “and you… you’re the daughter of the korean defense minister, aren’t you?”
˚ ༘♡ his words slashed through the sinister atmosphere, leaving you motionless where you stood.
˚ ༘♡ “i recognize your face now.” his lips twisted into a bemused grin. “tell me, why is the daughter of a wealthy minister working as a lackey in the mint?”
˚ ༘♡ you couldn’t answer. your voice, if it even existed, was trapped somewhere between fear and disbelief. your eyes darted down to the shattered remains of your phone, then back up to meet his unyielding gaze. the glass fragments seemed to glint like shards of your own hope scattered across the floor.
˚ ༘♡ what he said was true. you were the eldest daughter of the defense minister, a man appointed to his position after the unification of korea. your father, once a prominent figure in the south korean national assembly, had earned his power and influence through a career focused on military affairs. but none of that mattered now. the consequence of that identity, the very thing you had tried so hard to keep hidden, was now fully exposed.
˚ ༘♡ berlin turned away from you with an air of satisfaction, as though he had uncovered some magnificent treasure. “how lucky are we, huh, denver?” he said, addressing one of the masked criminals in a red jumpsuit. his tone was darkly delighted, dripping with smug arrogance. “the daughter of such a prominent figure, right here, as our hostage.”
˚ ༘♡ “sir…” you finally managed to stammer, your voice weak. every fiber of your being told you that begging or pleading would be futile, this heist was too carefully planned, too calculated for something as pitiful as that to persuade them. yet, despite the tremor in your voice, you forced the words out. “if… if i could just know the reason behind your mission.”
˚ ༘♡ he sneered at your question, his lip curling as if amused by your naïveté. “that,” he said coldly, his tone sharp enough to slice through you, “is none of your concern.” he stepped closer, and you instinctively leaned back, though there was nowhere to go. “don’t waste my time with stupid questions. it will do you no good.”
˚ ༘♡ before you could retreat further, his hand reached out, firm fingers tilting your chin upward. his dark eyes bore into yours with an intensity that made your pulse thunder in your ears. his touch was ice-cold, akin to winter frost against your skin, and it sent an involuntary shiver down your spine.
˚ ༘♡ “moscow,” he barked, not breaking his gaze from yours, “head upstairs and inform the professor of our… fortunate discovery. i think he’ll find it rather interesting.”
˚ ༘♡ a stout man, dressed identically to the rest of the criminals, gave a nod and slung his rifle over his shoulder. without a word, he ascended the staircase, his laced boots thudding against the metal steps.
˚ ༘♡ you glanced around, your fear morphing into panic as your gaze drifted over the rest of the room. your co-workers from the mint, along with the high school students from the field trip, were still lined up, trembling and blindfolded. their muffled whimpers and shaky breathing filled the space like a grim symphony.
˚ ༘♡ but berlin’s attention was locked solely on you. “you,” he said, his voice dropping to something inexplicable, perhaps intimate, yet no less dangerous, “don’t belong here with the rest of the hostages, do you? no, you’re quite special.”
˚ ༘♡ his grip constructed around your arm suddenly, rough enough to make you wince. “rio, tokyo,” he barked, not sparing a glance at the others. “get the rest of the hostages dressed and armed. i’ll handle our guest here.”
˚ ༘♡ two figures stepped forward from the line of criminals. the younger man, who you assumed was rio, removed his mask without reluctance and began moving to obey berlin’s orders. his expression was subdued, almost resigned, as though this were routine. the woman, tokyo, followed suit, her softer features contorting into a glare she didn’t bother to hide from berlin. though she clearly didn’t agree, she complied without protest.
˚ ༘♡ before you could process what was happening, berlin began dragging you toward the stairs. his grip was unrelenting, and you stumbled to keep pace. the acrid scent of cigarette smoke clung to his breath, filling your senses and heightening your unease.
˚ ༘♡ as you were pulled upstairs, you glanced over your shoulder. the rest of the hostages were being herded like sheep, their blindfolds removed and their devices confiscated. there was an air of chaos and helplessness, but the criminals operated with a cold precision that made it all the more horrifying.
˚ ༘♡ you knew he had ordered you not to speak, but the aching concern for your colleagues at the mint outweighed your better judgment. you forced the words out, your voice barely above a whisper, “sir, what will happen to the others…?”
˚ ༘♡ his reaction was instant, cruel and unforgiving. “enough with the questions. are you deaf?” his tone was laced with irritation, his hand tightening on your arm as he halted at the top of the stairs. his free hand moved briskly to rest on the rifle slung across his chest, an action that sent your pulse into overdrive. “as long as they do as they’re told,” he said coldly, his eyes flicking down to meet yours, “they’ll live.”
˚ ༘♡ the intent behind his words sank solemnly in your chest, but they provided little comfort. what did doing as they’re told mean? what did that entail? you didn’t dare ask for clarification. fear had locked your throat shut.
˚ ༘♡ at the end of the hallway, he forced you into a conference room. it was meant to be a professional space, a place for meetings, discussions, plans, but now it felt like a suffocating cage. berlin shoved you forward with a careless force that sent you stumbling to the floor. the tawny carpet felt rough beneath your hands, and as you tried to gather yourself, you realized your legs wouldn’t stop shaking. you were trembling so violently that getting back up seemed impossible.
˚ ༘♡ he stood over you, shaking his head with a theatrical sigh, his expression twisted into something resembling mock pity. “get up,” he ordered, his voice ridden with feigned concern. “it’s a pathetic sight. if i wanted to kill you, don’t you think i’d have done it by now?”
˚ ༘♡ yet even his attempt to rationalize your survival did nothing to soothe your frayed nerves. when you didn’t rise fast enough, he moved toward you, his impatience evident. before you could brace yourself, his hands gripped your waist, hauling you to your feet with little regard for your pitiful form.
˚ ༘♡ “relax, damn it!” he lashed out, though there was no softness in the demand. his hands lingered a second too long before he let go, stepping back. “you’ve got the easy end of this,” he continued, nodding toward the door. “out there? they’re the ones who’ll do the hard labor. you? you get to stay here, comfortably out of the way.”
˚ ༘♡ your eyes widened, the tears you’d been holding back streaking down your pallid cheeks. you couldn’t stop yourself from inquiring, the words escaping your mouth negligently. “but why… why do i need to stay here?”
˚ ༘♡ his lips curved into a faint, sardonic smile, as though your confusion entertained him. “another question,” he droned, his tone coarsely indulgent. “but i’ll allow it, i was going to tell you anyway.”
˚ ༘♡ he stepped closer, the austerity of his presence bearing down on you. “the police will come,” he began, his voice calm but charged with menace. “it’s only a matter of time. they’ll gather intel on the crisis, and they’ll try to ruin everything for us, storm the building, act recklessly.” he paused, his dark eyes boring into yours. “but they won’t. not when they know we have the minister of defense’s daughter in our grasp.”
˚ ༘♡ the reveal of the grand scheme hit you like a blow, leaving you breathless. you stared up at him, horrified, as the full reality of your situation sank in. you weren’t merely a hostage, you were leverage, a bargaining chip, a pawn in their game. and there was no escaping it.
˚ ༘♡ “i already know what you’re going to say,” berlin said, his voice deadly quiet, yet every word seemed to reverberate in the air around you. his finger grazed your cheekbone, the touch sedated and delicate, as if savoring the terror etched across your face. the lightest brush of his skin against yours was enough to send a shudder through your body. his hand continued its path, stopping just at the curve of your rosy lips, his dark eyes watching your every reaction with a formidable pleasure.
˚ ༘♡ “and if the police don’t heed your father’s words?” he murmured, tilting his head slightly as though contemplating the question himself. his finger hovered over your lips, lingering just long enough to make you careen in your stance. “then that pretty face of yours won’t see another day.”
˚ ༘♡ there was a chilling contradiction in his expression, brutality melded with a macabre thrill, as if he relished the power he held over you and everyone else. it was distressing in its intensity, and you couldn’t tear your gaze away, no matter how much you wanted to.
˚ ༘♡ he pulled back slightly, his tone shifting into something almost casual, as though he hadn’t delivered a forthcoming death threat. “if the police act accordingly, it won’t have to come to that,” he said, his tone smooth and reassuring. “you’ll leave here unscathed, so don’t worry too much.”
˚ ༘♡ he smirked then, the expression devoid of true sincerity but brimming with confidence. “i’m willing to believe your dear father will do everything in his power to ensure his precious daughter’s safety. a man like him doesn’t let something like you go to waste. he would heaven and earth for you, wouldn’t he?”
˚ ༘♡ your politician father’s influence, his position, his wealth, it had all painted a target on your back. now, you were nothing more than power in their hands, a negotiation tool that could either save or destroy you. and berlin appeared to revel in the knowledge of it.
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a/n: a money heist korea fanfiction for berlin! let me know if you have anymore requests for him as well as your thoughts! 🤍
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Oh boy do i have the AU for you
Instead of facing the king in season two, Arthur decides to run away and live in the dreamlands. Trauma ensues yada yada yada and after ten years he is captured by the king one final time. He spends the next four years being tortured and starved. Eventually the King decides to put him out of his misery and let him bleed out. And well... i'll let you read the rest
“John?”
“Arthur- Arthur- you- fuck oh fuck Arthur. Oh- Arthur- you're- we need to- We need to get your bag. There has to be something to stop the bleeding. You're- there's so much blood. Arthur-”
Arthur knew he was a lost cause, he knew he'd die, but John wouldn't give up, he'd do everything he can. And- it feels nice to be cared for, it's nice to not be at each other's throats, only talking so Arthur knows what's happening around him. “Okay- where is it-t?”
“Its a few feet to your right, we need to crawl there, your legs are- they're- unusable- to say the least.” Arthur laughed, John was trying to soothe him, to convince him everything was okay. “I'm going to get us there. I'm going to get us there. Okay?”
“Okay John.” He strained. “On 3, 1.. 2.. 3..” John dug his nails into the dirt bellow, groaning as his broken hand had a full body to drag. Arthur tried to roll on his stomach so John could have more leverage, putting pressure on the femur jutting out of his thigh. He whimpered, he wanted to scream at the pressure, but he just nodded when John told him he's going to move forward. As he did, it felt like the bone shifted further out of his thigh, “JOHN JOHN- STOP STOP! PLEASE- JOHN.”
“What happened? What's wrong?”
“My- my leg- the femur. John- it hurts it hurts so damn much. I can't- we can't get any farther- it hurts. It's so painful to move. John- John- Fuck” Arthur whimpered, going back into a fetal position. He heard John gasp and try to hide a sob, as his mutilated hand rested on his chest again. “Arthur you need to stay awake. We need to stop the bleeding-”
“It's no use John- we- we both know I’m going to die. I appreciate you always caring for me, fixing me up when I do something stupid. But we both know this is it” Arthur stated.
“But there must be a way, Arthur. Arthur- please- you can't die now-” John sobbed.
“Okay. Just- give me a moment. I- I feel light headed- I’m exhausted. I'm so fucking exhausted.”
Arthur couldn't tell if it was his or John's tears rolling down his face, it very well could be both of them. This pain was nothing he ever felt before, this was hell, his skin burned as the wounds all stung like venom. He took his mask off to better intake air, but even still, it hurt to breath, his lungs pressing up against his broken ribs. “Are you okay? Is your hand-”
“I’m fine Arthur. My hand has broken like yours, and the pinky- it was ripped out. But it's fine. Its nothing compared to what you're feeling.”
Arthur felt so horrid for John, for what he had to endure. “I'm sorry.”
“Arthur?”
“Yes John?”
“You- you can sleep now. There are no more miles we need to travel. You can rest now.”
“But I promis-”
“I know. I know. And you did. But there's nothing we can do about that.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry too, Arthur.”
John situated them so that Arthur was covered by his cloak, so he was at least somewhat comfortable.
“Rest now Arthur, you deserve it. And I’ll see you when you wake.”
“Okay John.”
“Good night- friend, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Have a good sleep, this too shall pass.”
i hope malevolent ends with arthur laying down for a nice long sleep. i want the last few words to be 'goodnight john' and 'goodnight arthur'. i hope the silence is sweet and peaceful. i dont even care if anything else goes well or not. i dont care if john gets his own body or arthur gets faroe back. i just need him to lower himself down for one last time, just for one good sleep. its the only ending i want for him.
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spacecowboyy0 · 3 days ago
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bucky barnes deserves baby reg reader!!!!
i completely agree!! i saw a tiktok of a mom who brought her kid to a martial arts gym so she could practice and her kid had a little set up in the corner and one comment said: “You watch Bluey while momma chokes the life outta someone, k pumpkin?” and i thought that was hilarious, so that's the inspo for this
notes: cg!bucky, cg!nat and reader live together but buck and nat are not in a relationship (i think they're both super gay)
~1k words
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You enter the boxing gym on Bucky’s hip, head resting on his shoulder. A group of you planned to spar together in a gym that you have access to. Peter had saved the owner’s daughter from getting robbed one night and now he could use the gym whenever he wanted. At least once a month you, Peter, Natasha, Bucky, Matt, Frank and Wade (sometimes a few other vigilantes) sparred together. You had planned on sparring but when you woke up feeling smaller than usual, Bucky decided it would be best if you didn’t participate (you were a little disappointed but still happy to come). 
Matt, Frank and Peter are already there when the three of you arrive. Natasha trails behind Bucky, holding two gym bags and your backpack. You squeal when you see the others, slapping your hand against Bucky’s chest in excitement. He laughs and bounces you a bit before letting you down. You run to Peter and give him a big hug. 
“Hey Petey!”
“Hi bug! No sparring for you today?” 
“Nu uh, papa says ‘m too small.” You look beside him where Matt and Frank are watching the interaction. Matt greets you with a small wave and you give him a quick hug before turning your attention to Frank. You raise your arms, requesting to be picked up, and try to give him a convincing look. 
“Please Frankie?” He tries to keep his hard expression but everyone knows he has a soft spot for you anyway, so he lifts you into his arms. When you snuggle into him, he smiles a little bit, but enough for Peter, Matt, and Wade (who just came over) to notice. They give him teasing looks and Frank just rolls his eyes.
Natasha sets down your backpack, and pulls out a blanket to spread out beside it. Frank carries you over to your area, in a spot close to all the action. He places you down on the blanket and then hands you your sketchbook and markers from your bag. You smile up at him gratefully, and he gives you a pat on the head before heading towards the ring. Nat crouches down in front of you, a soft look on her face. 
“You sit here and watch mama kick these boy’s asses, alright pumpkin?”
“Yeah!”
They’re right over there, you can literally see all of them, and yet you feel left out and needy. Colouring inside the lines is too frustrating but you can’t let go enough to scribble like you want. You tear up, getting overwhelmed by your confusing emotions. As it happened, you are in the presence of people trained to be observant, so it doesn’t take long for someone to notice your tears. Nat is fighting Matt in the ring, so Wade nudges Bucky, who stands beside him as they watch the match.
“Buck, your kid’s crying.” Bucky looks over his shoulder to where you are on your blanket with wide, wet eyes, and your bottom lip wobbling. He jogs over to you, and carefully picks you up. 
“What’s up baby?” He looks concerned as he wipes your tears with his thumb and then softly brushes your hair out of your face. 
“I dunno, jus’ feel sad ‘n miss you.” 
“Aww kid, you can keep me company while I watch the others spar ok?” You nod, sniff, and rest your head on his shoulder. He makes sure you’re secure in the crook of his arm before rifling through your bag and grabs your pacifier. He taps it against your lips and you open your mouth slightly to accept it. He walks back over to the others who are watching by the sidelines, and you hear Peter coo when you get close. 
“We got a gym baby with us?”
Bucky bounces you a bit and then turns his body so you can see Peter. You look spaced out and cozy as you rest against Bucky. The group only stays about 10 minutes longer, and the whole time you’re attached to Bucky. 
When you get back to the apartment, you lie on the bed, waiting for Bucky to get out of the shower. You play with the ring on your pacifier and roll around on the duvet. You perk up when you hear the bathroom door open, and reach out for him as he comes out. 
“I’ll be right there cutie, let me get something quick.” You grumble and watch him as he walks over to the closet and pulls fabric out of a box. 
It was Bucky’s birthday recently and Peter gifted him a special fabric that he can use to carry you around the house. There hasn’t been an opportunity to try it yet, but you’re currently clingy and tiny, and dinner needs to be made, so it’s the perfect time. 
You watch with curiosity as Bucky wraps the fabric around his stomach and then pulls it over his shoulders. 
“Alright come here baby.” He reaches his hands out and you crawl over to him. He picks you up under your armpits and rests you against his chest. You’re squished against him so you can’t see what he’s doing but you feel the fabric wrap around you, making you nice and snug. You take a moment to shift around, getting used to the new position. 
Bucky watches as you wiggle a bit before closing your eyes and relaxing fully. When he walks into the kitchen, where Nat is chopping carrots, she coos when she sees you and pauses her cutting to brush her hand over your head lovingly. 
“We got a little snug bug hm?”
“I think we gotta get this soup started so this one can eat. That sound good baby?” With your eyes closed, you respond with a quiet “mhm” and Bucky kisses the top of your head. 
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i've been meaning to write for bucky so thanks for the push anon!
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yandere-sins · 2 days ago
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I LOVE YOUR IMMORTAL YANDERE DRABBLE!!! Especially the "favorite" life you talked about. I like to imagine it was the first one. They met you, and you fell in love. You reciprocated! <3 But maybe you died young, too early into your relationship to realize they were messed up. Or maybe you lived to old age and started to wonder what sort of monster you married if they never aged or changed. Either way, they're constantly seeking that high again. They chase your memory through millennia. You'll realize you love them again. It's a soul, right? It's the same soul, just a different body. If you're soulmates, and you are, you'll love them again. They just need to try and try and try and try and try. <3
[Prev Post ♥]
Oh man, I totally see that, and it actually feels so tragic... The poor soulmate yan might actually be the first that one can feel sorry for ;;
Because immortality definitely has its downs. Being the last one of their family is heartbreaking indeed. At the same time, they continue to live without aging, traveling to hide from those who know the yan until they, too, are six feet under. But time moves on, months, years, decades. Someday, not even an immortal can remember those who passed. It's an endless day and night cycle, and no drinking, smoking, or lamenting at the moon can make up for the loneliness and ache in their old bones.
There's so much boredom, too. Once they have all the degrees and worked every job, there's so little to explore. Sure, times change, but no one really needs that much time to try it all. Nothing rouses them anymore, makes their heart beat fast or blood rush. Every enticing drug and med soon becomes ineffective as their body gets used to it.
But suddenly, there's you.
Like the early spring breeze, you ring in the change in his life, your carefree smile and the sparkle in your eyes, more flashing than a diamond. You are everything the yan is not—alive. You savor every moment of your short lifespan and keep falling in love with the small things the yandere no longer cares about. But they do, now, by your side. Because you care about them, and that is enough for them to give it all their attention. If you stop to look at the flowers, so do they. If you want to go to the museum they have been to countless times, they'll go, smiling as you talk about the paintings the yan watched being made. But they love you. They love you so much.
And you do, too. You love them for what little time you two have together. You make the yandere dance in the rain with you and then cuddle with them while you both have a pretty bad cold. You lie awake long into the night, drawing the curve of their nose until the yan reaches up to kiss your hand with the reverence that only someone who loves you could. You make them watch bad movies and let them take you dancing and to fancy dinners, never doubting that the yan loves you and never letting them feel anything less than that you do, too.
So when the yan invites you to go on a maiden voyage of a new luxury ocean liner for the first year anniversary of your relationship, you jump into their arms and kiss them all over their scrunched-up, grinning face since it's that special. Life is good as you two plan what you want to see and experience when you set foot in America. Of course, you are nervous, but it's the good kind, you know? And so is the yan, clutching the ring box in their pocket as they lead you up the ramp of the Titanic, intending to propose to you, finally.
They want to spend the rest of your life with you and find a way to join you in the grave, for that is what you mean to them.
They want it all, the good and the bad days. Children, pets, growing old. Making sure you are always cared for even when your mind forgets who they are. Until then is still a long time, and you will continue to teach them to savor every moment of it. You will understand the yan's condition, they are sure. You will still love them, even when your hands are no longer soft, and your eyes aren't the sharpest anymore. And so will they, never straying, never looking back.
So when you look at them, your beautiful eyes full of tears, fear, and determination, saying that you missed the last lifeboat to be with the yan until the very end, they can't help but sob uncontrollably. They know you're not going to make it... but they will. There's nothing they can do but hold you tight as the ship breaks in two, the mouth of the ocean opening to swallow everything whole.
But they'd be damned if they didn't ask. Didn't kneel or open the ring box as everyone cries and screams around you two. Didn't make you their betrothed even if you'll never be their spouse. And as they swore they would, they love you. Savor every last moment with you, admire the stars before retreating, laughing with you in the cabin until you breathe your last breath in the yan's arms. They kiss your ice-cold hands even though they are too stiff to move, and they pray to the gods above to release them of this curse, to let the yan rest by your side for all eternity.
And they still cry, decades later, as they resurface on a beach. People try to help, but the yandere is inconsolable. Nothing could make them move, the pain of losing you as fresh as on the first day. Nothing, until...
You.
With a bright, carefree smile, the sparkle in your eyes flashes more than a diamond.
And a splitting image of what they have lost, except for the ring on your finger that clearly isn't the one the yan has given you.
Edit: I did my research after writing, sorry :( The Titanic sank in 1912; please don't bash me. This immortal one is a different one from the other post, we can make it work :'D
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