#it seems like when I actually have the motivation to finally open up that’s when I get ignored the most :

[astoryisaloveaffair]

Fix You - Chapter 16 - Genesis

Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Morales x Fem!Reader

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Read on A03

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Chapter Summary: 🤷‍♀️

Word Count: 4K

Rating: Explicit

Chapter Warnings: cussing, graphic violence, mentions of sex. I'm not giving more warnings than that, sorry.

A/N: Hey all. First I want to say I'm sorry. I literally had no time or motivation to write this. I'm gonna be honest, this is a really tough chapter, and it was hard to get in this headspace. Suffering a recent heartbreak, things in this chapter are things I have thought also, and so it was really hard for me to voluntarily want to address that. I also started working in veterinary medicine, i do not have the spare time that I used to. We also recently adopted a puppy who we named Bucky! And if you read my earlier posts, you know that I was SA'd last January. All that to say, sorry I couldn't do this faster.

Also want to wish a happy birthday to @musings-of-a-rose, my beloved, my bestie, and my constant support. This is for you. Sorry it's not a happier chapter....

* If a character is speaking fully in Spanish, I will put “[ ]” around the dialogue. I speak pretty decent Spanish but not good enough for this

Suggested Songs: "Exile" Taylor Swift feat. Bon Iver, "I Love You" Billie Eilish, "Vampire" and "Logical" by Olivia Rodrigo, "The Night We Met" by Lord Huron and Phoebe Bridgers, "Genesis" by Grimes

You didn’t even flinch at the landing, which was rough, so that’s saying a lot. When the janky cargo door (which looked like at any time during the flight would be ripped right off) opens, you barely even lift your eyes from the floor. You felt heavy and hollow, somewhere suspended in between shock and just not giving a fuck anymore. The only thing you could still fell was the pinching in your heart. It was still broken.

At some point during the journey, the co-pilot had taken pity on you and untied your arms from behind your back and bound them in front of you instead. You hadn’t struggled. There was no point. Where would you go? Jump in the ocean? You weren’t that great of a swimmer and you loved sharks and everything but the open ocean is not where you are supposed to be.

You have no sense of space and time, so you have no actual clue where you are other than not the mainland. You’re dehydrated as fuck, groggy, your vision’s blurry and you’d figured out the sticky moisture on your face was your own blood. 

Because when you had suddenly blacked out it was because they’d hit you, and had absolutely no hesitation doing so. They did not care about you, they did not see you as a human being, they didn’t even bother strapping you into a seat so you had been sliding around the cargo bay the entire flight, bumping into everything. You were in deep danger, any hope that you would have some ransom protection had pretty much disintegrated. You had hoped that the boys wouldn’t come for you at first. Then you had hoped that they would, because if you’re ransom, even if at the very least you’d be alive until then, right? But “alive” doesn’t mean unharmed.

A shadow looms over you and it finally makes you look up, squinting to adjust your eyes to something so close, as well as the brightness of the sun. It feels like it takes you 10 whole minutes to process that you were being spoken to in English.

“Eh!” The man leaning over you snips, and when you simply blink in confusion and don’t answer, he slaps you lightly on both cheeks. You’re stunned enough to finally look at him, his oval face, beady eyes and unique sideburns seeming so familiar to you but quite frankly you wouldn’t trust yourself with recognizing even your dad at the moment, so you push that thought aside.

He kneels down in front of you. “You listen to me. We don’t want you. We want the money. This means if you don’t fucking piss me off, I might be nice and not kill you, you understand? Be a smart little girl, eh?.”

You nod, you probably should be feeling some sort of panic setting in but you don’t. Whatever. Who even cares anymore.

He takes your silence as submission. “Bueno.” He whispers, leaning down and grabbing you by the arm, lifting you until you are back on your feet. He tilts his head and steps to the side, revealing 5 additional men with AKs pointed straight at you. From behind, you feel the sharp tip of another poking your back, urging you forward and down the precarious ramp. The pilots.

You didn’t trust that they wouldn’t hurt you, but you knew you had no other choice. Trying to fight was asking for it, and once you step out of the hold and realize you were in the fucking jungle, there would be no sensical place to go even if you did get away.

You step out of the plane onto a rickety steel ramp that bounces as the footpad of your sandals touches it and shuffle slowly down it. You feel suffocated sandwiched between four men, your hands chafe where they are tied and you have been in the same positions for so long your whole body is sore. Every touch and movement hurt.

You stumble as the ramp ends but one of the men grabs your arm and yanks you so you don’t fall. It wasn’t kindness. It was a way to hurt you that he could get away with. The tiny dirt landing strip is almost canopied completely by the jungle trees, leaving large patches here and there where the plane flew through, not noticeable from far above. It looks like you’re walking to nothing, just a dirt road that ends right into the thick middle of the jungle, but you don’t stop at the edge. You push through.

It’s hot as shit and you felt sweat buildup in every crevice of your body, your thighs are rubbing raw from your asinine decision to wear short shorts to the fair, and you could feel a heat rash growing under your tits that you couldn’t even scratch because your hands are bound.

You walk for forever. You walk until the friction rash on your inner thighs turn to lesions. You haven't drank water in almost 48 hours and it feels like 150 degrees out, with full humidity. You’ve had to stop twice already to vomit from heat exhaustion and you still occasionally gag even though there’s nothing in your stomach to come up anymore. All the years that you did not appeal to insects are making up for it now, they’re all over you and you can’t walk 3 steps without one getting in your eye.  The jungle gets tighter and you can’t breathe because it’s pushing in on you almost as tight as the hands on your shoulders pushing you forward..

You start crying. At least, that is what you tell yourself as you whimper and sob as quietly as you can. You know you’re strong, but this is just beyond reason that any normal person could take. And when you think about how this is probably what life was all the time in Delta for the boys, you cry even harder because you feel guilty, that you have no right to complain.

Finally, after what feels like forever, the tightness of the jungle seems to loosen. More open. You notice some of the trees look more oddly arranged than others. As you get closer you realize they aren’t trees at all, but tents and dilapidated buildings built into the shadows of the trees.  The huge roots and overhanging canopy of the jungle transformed a bustling camp into what looks like a little village. At the entrance, a line of guards in jungle fatigues that were impossible to detect until you got right up to them. You hear someone speak above you, alerting you to a man up in the trees on a platform tucked between the branches. There was another in the tree on the opposite side. He calls to the man with the sideburns, saying something in Spanish you can’t interpret fast enough, but it’s jovial and they laugh, and it makes you feel like you’re going to go mentally insane. 

It’s like it’s not even serious to them. And it’s so serious to you.

You are pushed through the camp quickly, but not quick enough that you don’t see the insane amount of cocaine packages piled up in the makeshift buildings, sheds, and tents toward the back. Men were milling about checking them, moving them and glaring at you as you walked past.

You continue past the main camp, crossing over a bustling creek whose bridge was literally just planks of wood, but you noticed there were tire marks across them so you felt at least safe it could handle a car’s weight. Across the creek, an old stonework manor stood. You can tell at one time it must have been glorious, but the white stone-worked walls were dirty and crumbling in many places, the fountains out front had dried crusty palm fronds and dirt in them and looked like they hadn’t sprayed water since the 1980s.

It was still oddly beautiful. You thought about how this house came to be, what it might have looked like when it had been first built. A beautiful Caribbean sea mansion. A jungle that hadn’t closed in on it yet. Fountains spraying and colorful birds resting on the rooftops. But then you  realize that this place has probably always been used for what it is now. Someone like Carl Lehder probably lived here and ran an entire cartel within this very jungle. Maybe it was the same one, just run by someone else.

There was a shabbily made shack to the left of the manor with padlocks, piles of debris piled next to the door. You assume that’s where you would be taken, but you were instead led up the stairs to the manor proper. And as your eyes focus in on the ground while you were being guided to the mansion instead, you realize the heap of matter by the shack that you thought was some dying plantation was actually a crumpled human body. A boy looking not much older than 17, shot execution style in the head and left to rot.

Then smell hits you, your knees buckle and you vomit on the stonework stairs, a scream of shock and realization pierces the jungle, making the nearby tropical birds explode from the treetops. When the sicarios pick you up and carry you through the mansion door, you’re still screaming.

Eventually whoever was carrying you became fed up, and simply dropped you at the bottom of the stairs and dragged you up backwards by the armpits instead. You didn’t even feel the step edges hitting the small of your back all the way up, but you would later. 

You were tossed stricken and shivering on a disgusting, top-sheeted mattress on the floor in the corner of a room, your feet still bound together and your rope-bound hands looped through a radiator that was long enough only for you to lie down or shuffle over to a bucket for your business. Everything stank and you still had vomit on your chin so you curled up in a ball and slammed your eyes closed, hoping that in time the voices and smells and fear would give way to just simple numbness. You didn’t hear a female voice speaking to you for several seconds.

Your eyes snap open, skin pulled taut from dried unwiped tears,and you jolt upright to look in the direction of the voice. A woman who wasn’t even tied up was propped up against the adjoining wall, and as you take in her condition you could understand why they hadn’t even bothered. She wouldn’t have been able to run.

Her legs look..wrong, splaying at angles that shouldn’t be possible. They look like they could be broken, but you can’t tell for sure because she was wearing jeans that cover up most of her skin. The jeans were ripped in some places and stained with dark blood spots, the color turning brighter wherever her skin shows through the tears in the fabric. She’s missing several fingers on her left hand that had been burnt at the ends to cauterize, and her face was black and blue, swollen and smeared with more blood that seemed to be coming from her scalp somewhere. Her lips are pale and cracking and her eyes are glazed over and barely open. When she speaks, she already sounds like she is dead. 

She swallows and winces slightly in pain, then licks her cracked pale lips.“Is…my…her–my brother. Did you see him? Out there?” 

Your face scrunches in confusion, which actually hurts a little and you’re not sure from what specifically. Perhaps you look just as bad as the other girl. “Your–I—I don’t understand.”

She’s too exhausted to even be annoyed with you. “My brother. They took him from me days ago. They do not talk to me anymore. They don’t—need me anymore.” A single tear falls down her swollen cheek and you suddenly feel so much connection with this woman and how  incredibly fucking strong she is. Her eyes roll over to you, meeting yours for the first time. There are burst blood vessels in them. 

“I think that they killed him.”

Your lips part and you utter a shuddering breath as you connect the dots. There’s no point in sugar-coating it. You nod slowly. “I think so. But it’s not…recent.” You look away as her eyes slowly close, the additional tears she was holding back finally spilling over and cascading down her cheeks. 

“Bueno.” She says. “Then at least he is not suffering like me.” 

You both fall quiet and you look over her again. Her pants aren’t completely done up and her t shirt is ripped at the neckline, exposing a gashed shoulder. Almost like…

You start crying again, and you feel even worse about it this time because you have in front of you a woman who has been through much worse and is somehow NOT crying. You curl tighter into yourself to try and hide. 

But she simply asks. “Who are you?”

You swallow, raising your head up off your arms, quickly wiping the access tears off on your sleeve. It’s incredible how adrenaline and fear can sometimes make you the most clear-headed you’ve ever been. Your thoughts are swirling but you knew one thing for damn sure, if they didn’t know your name yet, you weren’t going to say it now. 

If I look forward I am lost. Focus on right now. Nothing else. It’s my best chance.

You know enough about trauma that compartmentalizing this moment is your best chance. You can’t think what will happen if you don’t escape, if you aren’t found, if they never come for you. You need to stay focused. You need to keep hope alive. You need to stay coherent, because if a chance pops up, you need to be able to think quickly.

“I’m no one.” You mumble. “Just happened to be dating the wrong person.”

She sniffs and looks away, but it’s muffled because her nose sounds congested. You don’t miss her tone though. “Mmmm. His new one then.”

You blink. “What?”

Her glazed over, discolored eyes snap back to yours. “Pope.” She spits. “Your man. Santia—”

“NO!” You cut her off with a shout, you know there is a guy who is in the area and you still don’t know how much these men do or do not know. “Don’t. Don’t give them names if they don’t already know it.”

“I don’t give a shit about Agent Garcia, or his friends, or anyone else, it’s their fault I am here and it’s their fault my brother is dead and..” She finally, finally starts to cry. “I told him I didn’t want to do it. They said they would let us go if we gave them what they wanted.”

“It was you.” You exhale with a shuddering breath. “They found us cause of you. You told them.” You shake your head, and for some reason you feel betrayed by this woman even though you’ve never met her.  “How could you?” 

“Because all I care about is my brother, do you understand?! I wish I’d never met him, Garcia, we would have just snuck away and no one would never seen us, but no, instead we listened to him and helped them steal from fucking Lorea, and now they found us and I knew they would, and YES, I gave them EVERYTHING because they said they’d let us go so long as they found you and–”

“Eh!” A voice trails in with a watchman you knew was hanging out somewhere in the hallway beyond. He slips through the doorway, a smaller man you were not expecting from that voice, and leans against the deteriorating door frame. He crosses his arms and his legs and it makes the handgun on his hip jut out prominently from his skinny hips. “No talking to each other.” His voice is silky and the words all slide together so it sounds like ‘no talkintoeeachother.’

You shrink back into the dirty wall behind you as your associate spits a bloody phlegm ball in the man’s direction. “FUCK you!” She snarls, a tirade of cuss words in Spanish flying from her lips. 

A loud pop almost bursts your eardrums and your heart and you exclaim in terror as your associate is shot point blank in the head, her back slumping against the wall and her head hitting with a bang, pieces of blood and brain tissue spraying over the back wall with pieces flying in your direction.  

The man remains completely motionless with his arms still raised before huffing a laugh to himself, putting the gun back on his hip, and looking at you with the such an unaffected gaze it leaves you feeling dizzy and you scream and scream and scream yourself hoarse, crumpling onto your mattress in a terrified heap, arms over your head, sobbing hysterically.

A gentle but firm palm wraps around your forearm, yanking you back up to a seated position. You look away, but the man’s other hand takes you gently by the jaw and makes you look at him. And just behind him, the woman slumped in a pool of blood and brain matter. You try to wriggle out of his grip but he tightens ever so slightly, and you can’t help but notice how different it is when Frankie would grab you like that versus this man. Frankie held you the same, sometimes harder, but you had trusted his domination and his care of you and because of that, it made it arousing. That same motion with this man has you more scared than you ever have been in your life. 

“Bebita.��� He coos, thumb lightly caressing your jaw. He wipes at a small speck of blood you don’t know is even there. You can feel yourself shaking and breathing so fast you can see his half waxed back tousled locks that hang past his temples are blowing in its breeze. You can’t answer him. “Look at me.”

You do. His eyes are a dark, almost black chocolate brown, shape mismatched, a scruffy beard and goatee and thin lips. In another world you would find him devastatingly attractive and the fact that you do makes you feel absolutely violated and disgusted with yourself. 

“Do not cry.” He continues. “You have no reason to if you behave, si? You be good and you listen and I will keep you safe you understand? Well, at least for now.” He shifts closer to you, you can smell his breath. It smells like orange and cloves. “There are a lot of men here Bebita. I am sure you understand what this means, si? Answer me.”

“Yes.” A final fat tear spills from one of your eyes, and it stings as it mixes with your sweat and the raw skin around your eyes. 

He juts his head in the other woman’s direction. “This one, she fight the whole time. I like a easy job. Make my job easy, I make sure you always deal with me. Do not make me call in the other guys, they are not as nice. Understand?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” He releases your chin and you scoot back quickly as he saunters over to the other woman’s bloody body, grabs it by the arm, and casually drags her as dismissively as possible out the door and out of your sight, leaving a bloody trail behind.

At first you just sit there in a slump staring at the opposite wall,, you don’t know for how long. Probably hours. Maybe days. The man, whose name you figured out from when he spoke to someone else in the hall, is Angel. Sometimes he would sit up and watch you, as if figuring you out, your body and the way you shift and switch positions when you are uncomfortable, what it looked like when you were crying and trying to keep quiet and unnoticed. But most of the time he ignored you. Occasionally others would come into the room and either speak to him or approach you, but upon noticing Angel watching them they would hiss or spit a curse and slink off.

The room reminded you of those old houses from the 70s that had those drafty unfinished basements that were simply concrete floors, painted stucco or white brick. To the sicarios, it served as an overflow area, there was a rotting desk along the side wall with a metal folding chair and piles of scattered papers and random household tools on them. Against the opposite side wall was a pretty nice tv, considering, which was always playing soccer. Angel seemed to make that his home base, his lithe frame sprawled across a grandma-fabric sofa, head resting on one of the puffy arm rests. He binge-smoked cigarettes and his right hand was always stretched over his head resting against his forehead in the direction of to an end table with an massive overflowing porcelain ashtray on it. You didn’t used to mind the smell of cigarettes too much but now it makes you feel sick.

You’re ashamed of how little you actually think about your current situation and like the hopeless romantic idiot you are, mostly all you can think about is Frankie. The things he said–you knew he said mean things when he was mad, or things he didn’t mean, but isn’t there always some truth to things that are said in the heat of the moment? That was enough for you to silently spiral. You thought about every memory you had of him and how it could be viewed through the lens that Frankie just wanted to fuck you. Your self confidence was low enough it was believable, and your mind races through every instance of an older man being in a relationship with someone much younger and how of course it was predatory, and how could you not see it, that you didn’t have anything in common? It’s a tale as old as time. He just wanted to fuck you, he wanted to fuck you and dominate you, his dark desires seducing you into feeling so wanted you can’t believe you thought he loved you and didn’t see right through it. 

And his friends, well, they were all in on it weren’t they, because why would they want to hang out with someone like you either? Why would men such as that actually want to be friends with you when you have never experienced half of what they have.

Fuck him. Fuck him and his lying ass, he was a fucking loser addict and you’re pissed at yourself for even considering him. Like how lonely were you?? To choose an old man with a kid who served in an institution that represented everything you hated about this country? To be so easily blinded by pretty words and love bombs to immediately take your clothes off. Because how, if he actually loved you or even like you, could he possibly have lied about something so big?! Or bought you something nice with all that fucking drug money he stole. Not that you’d want it or expected it, but why wouldn’t you want to treat someone you love as much as he claimed to? 

How could he sit there and make up what happened to Tom like that, when you were being so coddling and trying to be a caring ear. And Benny…Pope...if they were your friends they should have told you, that’s what real friends do…

But they weren’t your friends. They were never your friends. 

And if you went the other way, and considered that it was all true, that he did love you, that they were all your friends, and that he lied to you and threw stones to hurt you and push you away, how was that any better? You couldn't even think about a future not being with him, but obviously he could. He could watch you cry and question him and not even look at you, completely ignore you, then not even think about you again. No texts, no calls. No “I’m sorry, please come back.” Silence. 

How could it be so easy for him? How can he just go about his life like you never happened? Why did you still care?

Why did you still want him? 

Why did you still love him so so much. Part of you wishes they’d get on with it and just kill you. At least then you wouldn’t have to feel this excruciating pain. You wouldn’t have to see him show up to rescue you because he has to, to have to see his fucking face and every line, crinkle, scar, the bald patch in his beard and the tousled little curls that pop out of his hat…only for him to save you and then leave again, or die and then you have the guilt of killing a man who no longer loved you.

Yea. You think you’d rather die.

You feel like you’re going to throw up again. You’d let him force his cock in your mouth as far as it could go, let him tie you up and fuck you hard enough to leave bruises you had thought of as a badge of honor. You’d let him cum on your face. You’d let him fucking cum inside you! He’d gaslit you so you actually wanted him to tie you up with zip ties—-

Your heart almost stops. You can picture how his face looked exactly when he said it.

Sometimes rope can give over time.

That’s why we always used zip ties.

You look down at your bound hands.

They’re bound with rope.

#fix you fic #triple frontier fanfic #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #frankie catfish morales x you #frankie catfish morales x reader #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfic

[p-p-panda]

Random art vent lol

I get tired of constantly pouring my heart out when asked about my stuff only for it to fall flat. Like why did they even ask me to begin with??? Just to tease me??? 😭 bruh

#this is very different than what I usually post #I don’t really like doing it but tbh this has been bothering me for the past couple of months in different places I’m active in #and it’s starting to become annoying #i listen to everyone’s lore and ocs or whatever the convo is only to end up with like one reply and they die on me. AND IT KEEPS HAPPENING #IN DIFFERENT Group chats #man I’m just so tired of even lore dumping all the time at this point 💀 #it seems like when I actually have the motivation to finally open up that’s when I get ignored the most :/ #I’m probably being a sensitive baby rn so I might delete this later. only wanted to get it off my chest #i can listen to other people talk for hours then the second I speak it feels like bore everyone 😔 #i only have like 1 or 2 people that actually listen to me when it’s my turn but most of the time I’m always listening. which isn’t bad but #man #it hurts and kinda makes me wanna cry lmao #and it makes me just half ass shit at this point when people ask about my ocs/lore since I don’t know if they want a tiny bit of info or #if they’re actually intrigued :/ I just give up now #ok I’m done this is way too long ahaha #vent #it’s not that I constantly want atteion because I don’t and I love listening to other people and sometimes when I ask they don’t talk to me #but will to someone els even when I’m super invested so idk at this point #😞 #i admit I have times when I’m shy but it mostly due to not wanting to wast peoples time anymore #ok I will shut to the up #gn #it’s like 1am for me #and I really don’t want people to ask only because of this post. trust me that’s not what I’m trying to do i swear. only getting out feels

[marvelouslizzie]

Not Lonely Anymore

summary: You hear your roommate Bucky Barnes moan your name while masturbating and it changes everything between you two.

pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

word count: 3K

warnings: 18+, dry jumping (brief), unprotected sex, daddy kink, metal arm kink, choking, teasing, dirty talk, no mention of y/n.

A/N: Hello hello! I present you the last part of my Lonely Night series. I am so grateful for your interest in the first two parts. I tried to keep my motivation up and give these two perverts a satisfying ending. I hope you will enjoy it as much as I did. Your feedback would be much appreciated.

You don't have to read the first two parts to understand what's going on but if you want to, please check my blog/masterlist for A Lonely Night and Same Lonely Night.

Thank you so much @notafunkiller for beta-reading and editing. Daddy kink and choking is for you ✌️

All work is mine, please do not repost or translate without my permission.

Read more tag starts after the second paragraph of the story.

You can’t take your eyes off Bucky while you're processing what has just happened. Your eyes roam around his face and bare chest before falling on his shorts. His erection is pressed against the waistband, carefully hidden away from you but the wetness forming on the fabric betrays Bucky’s intentions. You can’t contain your smile, but Bucky doesn’t see it. He’s too lost in his own thoughts, and when your eyes meet, you realize he is worried and embarrassed. He opens his mouth, wanting to say something in order to end this awkward silence, but you beat him to it.

“Did you just say my name?” It comes out so calm, you even surprise yourself.

You know he did. You heard it with your own ears loud and clear. That’s why you dropped your glass after all. But it was that shocking to you. That unbelievable! So you just want him to confirm it. To make it real and assure you that really happened. Maybe then you will be able to believe it.

“I- I can explain.” You notice the cold sweat forming on his forehead.

He seems like a scared kid who got caught doing something he shouldn’t do. And it’s probably because he thinks he might lose you. You would feel the same way if he was the one who caught you masturbating just an hour ago. God, that would be mortifying, but now that you are on the other side of the equation, all you feel is excitement.

The realization eventually sinks in: he wants you. He actually wants you. That gives you a level of confidence you never had before.

You take a step forward and close the distance. Your lips are on his before he can react. You wanted to do this for a long time, but you had been unsure if he would have wanted it or not. You have a clear answer now, so there’s no need to hold yourself back. It takes him a second to respond to you, but you don’t hesitate. You just keep kissing him and it wakes him up like he has been hibernating for a long time.

His hands wrap around your torso and he pulls you closer. His fingers are digging into your hips like he’s trying to convince himself this is real, and he tilts his head just enough to deepen the kiss. His tongue gently slides into your mouth and that makes you moan for the first time. His lips, his tongue… He tastes so sweet. You just can’t get enough of it. It makes you crave him even more, and you don’t know how that is even possible.

Suddenly you push him, hoping to get him back inside his bedroom, but he doesn’t move an inch. He just gives you a dazed look, trying to understand why you did that.

“Work with me. Just move back.” You sound impatient, and he finally understands what you are trying to do.

“Fine.” He raises both of his hands like he’s surrendering, with a smile on his face, then he takes a step back and lets you push him further inside the room. You continue until the back of his knees hits the bed and he falls onto it after one final push.

“Is that what you wanted?” He sounds amused.

“Yeah.” You straddle him without missing a beat, getting comfortable on his lap while he pulls you in for another kiss.

This time it feels a little different. His hands are on your cheeks, holding you still while his tongue explores your mouth. It is the most passionate kiss you have ever had in your life. His erection is standing right there, between your legs and you can’t help yourself… You can’t stop that urge that’s slowly building up and why would you? You’re on his lap, finally doing this. There’s no need to stop yourself from doing what you want. So while he tastes you however he wants, you start to move your hips. After a couple of tries, you find the perfect spot and both of you moan nearly at the same.

He stops kissing you for a second just to take a breath, but he still holds your cheeks with his big hands and looks into your eyes. It’s like he’s afraid you might disappear. You have no plans of disappearing or stopping, though. You keep moving your hips and watching his eyes flutter every time you rub the right spot. It feels good even with the fabric between you two. Yet it’s not enough.

“We should get rid of your shorts.”

“And your panties.”

You raise yourself on your knees, just enough for him to push his shorts down, but you don't give him enough space to take them off completely.

“I don’t wanna use any protection. Do we have to?”

“Well, we don’t have to, but we might need to.” He’s not sure how fertile he is. It’s not like he tried it before, so it’s quite risky. All he knows is he has a lot more come than an average man and that’s a problem when it comes to using condoms. They are practically useless.

“I’m on the pill.” You quickly clarify. You only asked the question to see if he was comfortable with the idea or not.

“Then we definitely don’t need to.” Oh, he’s definitely comfortable. The way he just said it is enough.

He grabs his cock while you pull your panties aside without wasting any time, and you lower yourself onto him while balancing yourself with one arm on his shoulder.

“That impatient?” He taunts you, but he chokes on his words as soon as he feels your wetness. The head of his cock rests between your folds while you answer him:

“Are you not?” You sound relatively normal. Then you keep talking while taking him inch by inch. “Would you rather fuck your fist and fantasize about me?”

He wants to answer you. He wants to say something, but being balls deep inside you makes it harder to do so. He just lets out a low groan while grabbing your ass to ground himself.

You’re not so different from him. The way he stretches you pulls a pornographic moan out of you. You sit still for a second, trying to get used to this feeling. You can’t remember the last time you felt this full. It makes you shiver even without moving. You take your time and he just waits, patiently until you get used to the sensation. After a couple of seconds, you feel confident enough to move.

“Ready?”

“Yes.” There’s a bit of hesitation in his voice, but you don’t notice it because you are lost in the feeling of finally being so full. All of your senses are overwhelmed by it.

You aren’t sure if it’s going to hurt because he’s definitely the biggest you have ever had. So you move your hips slowly and test the waters. There’s something there. Some kind of discomfort. You can’t say you feel uncomfortable, you just need to get used to his size. So you keep moving because there’s this promise of pleasure hidden behind that discomfort. You can nearly taste it and it keeps you going. While trying to figure out the best way to move, you don’t realize Bucky is watching you, carefully. He’s trying to read your expression and see if you are okay. He’s ready to take up the reins or just stop if that’s what you need. His hands gently roam your body, discovering little details about your skin. Like how many moles you actually have.

“No rush. Take your time.” He sounds more like himself, much more confident than before.

You moan because of his words. His voice is deeper and it makes your blood rush. You start to move a little faster and notice how the discomfort slowly fades away. He notices that, too while grabbing your tits with both of his hands. One is colder than the other, and the contrast is dizzying. You lean into him, just to feel him a little bit more, and his grip on your tits tightens.

“God, so fucking pretty!”

Before you can say anything, his mouth is on your right nipple. You feel his tongue flicking over and over again while his other hand rests on the other breast. Then he sucks your nipple into his mouth, letting his teeth graze over it. You grunt because of the mixed sensations. Just when you are about to protest, he lets out your nipple and moves on to the other one. He gives it the same treatment. A mix of licking, sucking, and biting until you can’t contain your movements. Your hips start to move so much faster, making both of you moan loudly.

“God, I wanted to do this for ages!” The words spill out from your lips without much of a thought.

“You did?” He doesn’t miss a beat.

“Yeah.” There’s no point in hiding it anymore, is there?

“Does this mean I am the daddy?”

His question catches you off guard, and you just freeze in the middle of the action.

“You… heard me.” It comes out more like a question rather than a statement.

“Why do you think I was masturbating?”

It takes you a couple of seconds to process what he's just said. He actually heard you. You never used his name, but it doesn’t change the fact that he witnessed something so private. Something you really wanted to hide from him, yet the idea of him hearing you also sets you on fire. Instead of submitting to the urge to get all shy, you decide to ask him what you actually want to know.

“You heard me and instead of making a move, you decided to fuck your fist?”

“What was I supposed to do? Knock on your door and ask if I can replace your dildo?”

“Yeah. Sounds great to me.” You keep moving your hips fast while talking. “Or maybe you are too shy to take what you really want.”

“Shy?” He blinks a couple of times.

“You don’t seem shy but maybe you are. Maybe you are a submissive little boy who wants to just lay here and take whatever I give you.”

You watch his expression change into something so different. It’s not particularly dark, but it feels like it. Before you can say anything else, he just flips you over. Your mouth falls open when your back touches the bed. Instinctively, you try to wrap your legs around his torso, but he doesn’t let you. Instead, he pushes your knees back to your chest.

“What are you doing?” Your amazement is evident in your voice.

“Taking what I really want.” It takes a lot of effort to hide your smile. You can’t believe your taunting worked that quickly. “Tell me if it gets too much and I will stop.”

“Oh, I doubt that.”

He waits for you to finish talking and then he starts to move. Your mouth falls open once again but this time, it’s not because you are surprised. It’s because you can’t believe how good it feels. It’s completely different than how it felt when you were on his lap. He reaches deeper inside you in this position, and his hands are still on your legs, pushing you further into the bed. You let out another sinful moan.

“Way better than I imagined.”

“Is it?” A smile lingers on his lips. “Feel free to be as loud as you want.”

“Do you want us to get kicked out of this apartment?” It takes every ounce of strength in you to form this sentence without stuttering. It’s so hard to talk like you aren’t getting railed.

“No, I just wanna hear you call me daddy.”

You can’t help but moan. Shit, he really heard everything. You feel so exposed, but somehow it doesn’t bother you. Is he actually into this? Who could’ve guessed?

“If you want that, you gotta work harder than this.”

“Ask for it.”

“Harder, please.” He waits for daddy to come out of your mouth, but it doesn’t. You really meant what you just said, he needs to earn it.

So that’s exactly what he does. He starts to pound you, just the way you fantasized. He manages to touch every part inside you and fills up in a way that makes you wanna cry. Your moans get louder with each thrust.

“Oh fuck! Oh fuck!” Your ears start to buzz. You can feel that your orgasm is close.

“Talk to me, doll.”

He wants to hear you, and you don’t feel like holding back anymore.

“I’m-I’m so close, Bucky.”

“What do you need?” His question is instant. You feel that he’s ready to do whatever you want.

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing.” You take a deep breath just to be able to keep talking. “Just keep going. Please…” Your voice comes out so pathetic, but you can’t brush off the urge to beg him. He would like that, wouldn’t he? You did it while masturbating and he got a hard-on just because of you. “Please, please, please.”

Your words make him groan like he is struggling to contain his excitement.

“I really need it, daddy, please…”

“Fuck, baby.” You feel him losing control. His thrusts are sloppier but he notices that, too. His metal arm moves on your chest and rests there. You don’t know if he’s trying to keep you still or ground himself. Then he looks directly into your eyes, trying to see if that makes you uncomfortable or not. It definitely doesn’t. Quite the opposite, you need his hand on your neck, and you gently grab his metal hand and move it on your neck without breaking eye contact. You watch his eyes widen with the realization.

“Are you sure?” You nod in response, but it’s not good enough for him. “Words, baby. I need actual words.”

“Please.”

That does it. His fingers tighten around your neck, pressing right against your veins, careful not to crush your windpipe.

“Yess.” Your head is thrown back. This is exactly what you wanted.

The way he’s choking you snaps something inside you. It intensifies everything you are feeling at that moment. Your whole body suddenly starts to shake, and it surprises you. You have never reached an orgasm this quickly before.

“Yes, yes, yes. Oh god, yes!” Your voice comes out hoarser than usual.

“Look at you.” He taps his fingers on your neck while he keeps moving. “My pretty baby. So good for me.”

You only moan in response, already too lost in the waves of your orgasm. It’s running through your whole body like electricity.

“Look at me! Look into my eyes.” He sounds so commanding and you listen to him even though it’s so hard to do it. He looks like he’s about to lose it, too.

“Come with me. P-please.”

“You want me to come, baby?” He asks in a way that makes you wanna cry out even more. Like he won’t come if that’s what you want. He will keep holding back until you say so but you don’t want that. You want him to enjoy this as much as you do.

“Please, daddy. Come with me.” He groans in response. You clearly see how your words affect him, especially calling him daddy. You can’t believe how much he’s into it.

He stops holding back and starts to move in a way that makes you scream. So you do that. You can’t contain the noises you make when he moves like this. You grip on his sheets, letting him ruin you for any other man.

“Fuck! Such pretty sounds… You like it that much, baby?”

“Yes, yes. So good, daddy.” You slur at the last part. You don’t care. You don’t care about anything when he makes you feel like this.

“Fuck, you take me so well.” You can actually hear that he’s close. “I-I’m gonna come, oh fuck.”

“Yess!” You have been waiting for this. You want it so badly. You wanna see him come. You want him to feel good, all because of you. You want to witness a part of him that he hides away from everyone else. It feels like owning a part of him. So private and primitive, but you don’t care. You need this.

He lets out the most guttural moan right before starting to come inside you. He doesn’t stop, just keeps the same pace, emptying himself inside you.

“Take it, baby. Take it! It’s all yours.” You know what he’s talking about. His come is already dripping out, yet he’s not done coming.

It looks like he lost his damn mind, but it’s the hottest thing you have ever witnessed in your life. You are so fascinated by him even though you are still coming yourself. That's why you force yourself to keep your eyes open and watch him while your high slowly fades away. Yet he keeps going. His hands are gripping on your tights, pulling you into him every time he moves. His come is dripping on your ass, to the sheets. It’s so messy but feels out of this world.

After a couple more thrusts, he collapses on top of you. His head rests on the crook of your neck, and you feel his heavy breathing on your skin. You don’t mind it, though. He doesn’t let his whole weight crush you. Always so thoughtful….

Your hands go to his hair, gently stroking it. That makes him move his head and look at you.

“We should’ve done this before.” That makes you wanna laugh, but instead, you just give him a huge smile.

“Yes, we should have. It was amazing.”

Suddenly he moves away from you, leaving you completely empty. It makes you whine instantly. You miss the fullness and the warmth of his cock already.

“Where are you going?” You give him a confused look while raising yourself on the bed. “Come back here.”

“Not was.” He kneels right next to the bed, in between your legs, and moves his head closer to your dripping core. “I’m not done with you, baby.”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes one shot #sebastian stan #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader smut #bucky x reader #bucky x you #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes x f!reader #avengers smut #roommate!bucky barnes #my stories

[lavender-devotion]

Hi Hi! I wasn't sure if you're open but can I request a Alastor x reader who is a charlie's older sister and she is alastor's fiance. They never told their hotel friends, basically they're in a secret relationship, until Lucifer arrived (from episode 5 dad beat dad) and announced she's engaged. but no body knew who her fiance was until alastor popped up behind her and pressed a kiss on her. Charlie's happy and Lucifer D:

As soon as I saw this request I immediately ran to make this meme, lmao I'm sorry 😭

anywho, here we go lmao

Summary: You’re Lucifer's eldest and, much like Charlie, you’re desperate to have his support and approval---he’s your dad, of course you are. So, when he finally visits the hotel, you can't wait to tell him that you're engaged. And he's overjoyed...that is, until he finds out that you're engaged to the Radio Demon. What happens when your fiancé and your dad start feuding over you, forcing you to pick a side? Your family, or the love of your life?

Tags: Alastor x Fem!Reader, No Use of (Y/N), Reader is Lucifer's Eldest, Secret Relationship, Lucifer has a heart attack bc Alastor, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, we're just gonna pretend Alastor has been at the hotel a longer time than in canon bc Plot, Charlie is a Good Sister TW: None <3 Word Count: 2.6k Read it on Ao3 <3

When you'd first met Alastor, you had been…skeptical of him, to say the least.

To be completely honest, you’d hated him—and that was putting it lightly. You hated how condescending he was, you hated the fact that he clearly had ulterior motives, you hated that he kept everything about himself a secret, you hated his damn smile, you hated…him!

And the feeling was definitely mutual.

Alastor hated your obvious distrust of him, he hated the fact that you neither feared nor respected him, he hated the way you’d constantly tell Charlie and the others to be wary of him, he hated the way you always seemed to get in the way of his plans, he hated…you!

And no matter how many lessons Charlie had on friendship and trust—lessons that she forced the two of you to attend, I might add—or how many lectures about how the two of you needed to get along or how much she begged the two of you to stop fighting, nothing ever worked.

But…then something changed.

At some point between then and now, the two of you began to soften and learn more about each other---often against your will, and your wishes---and you found...that you had more in common than previously thought.

You both preferred radio to television, you both had a love and penchant for cooking, you both enjoyed quite a few of the same novels, and on and on it went. And those similarities brought the two of you closer together and, although neither of you ever wanted to admit it, you actually began to get along. Eventually, after enough time had passed, the two of you managed to forget why you didn't get along in the first place---all of it becoming a distant memory.

Of course, one thing led to another, and now you were lucky enough to have a pretty little ring on your left hand---not married yet, but soon to be.

Obviously none of the others knew about any of this, by both of your wishes. You were both private people and, knowing everyone else, they would ask questions and the two of you would end up having to spill your entire life's stories to finally get them to leave it be---and even that wasn't guaranteed!

So, to avoid the drama of it all, you just...kept things quiet. Private.

It wasn't particularly hard---Alastor wasn't much of a PDA person, especially in public; neither of you were particularly big fans of pet names; your dates were always fairly simple; and the two of you had your own jobs within the hotel to attend to, so half the time you weren't even in each other's presence.

It was...nice. Having someone to lean on, being able to see another side of Alastor---and having him all to yourself. No one else had him like you did, and you preferred it that way. Of course, though, all good things had to come to an end.

Your and Charlie's father, Lucifer, was coming to the hotel for the first time and---knowing him---it'd be the last, so now was possibly your only chance to tell him about your engagement in person.

Part of you was nervous, considering that you hadn't even told him---or anyone else---you were dating someone and now you were just going to spring an engagement on all of them, but another part of you was relieved and excited. Obviously, you would miss the privacy, but who knew? Maybe everyone's constant curiosity wouldn't bother you as much as you thought, and you might actually end up enjoying a more public relationship.

One where you could kiss him whenever you pleased, instead of being forced to wait until the two of you were alone; one where you could wish him goodbye with an "I love you," instead of snarky "don't die" on the way out; one where you could simply blow off any potential suitors with an "I'm married," instead of having to convince them that you really weren't interested in dating. Maybe all of that would be nice too.

"Nervous?" Alastor asked, the static overlay of his voice drawing you out of your thoughts. You turned away from the mirror you were looking into, instead turning your attention to your beloved---his ever-present smile softening as he looked at you.

"A little, I just..." you sighed, "I just want this to go well, but---knowing my dad---he's going to freak out and it'll be a whole thing."

He chuckled and stepped forward until he was close enough to brush a stray piece of hair out of your face, "not to worry, my dear, I'm sure everything will go just fine."

"But-"

"And if it doesn't," he continued, "I'll be by your side to help you fix it all. You won't be alone."

You smiled and let him draw you into a chaste kiss, some of your tension dissipating in his presence. Somehow he always knew how to make you feel better.

"What would I ever do without you?" You asked, gently cupping his face.

He tilted his head slightly to press another kiss to your palm, "you'll never have to find out."

Suddenly the unmistakable sound of Charlie's voice made its way up to your shared room, introducing everything and everyone in the hotel to---who you assumed to be---your father. So there was no more preparing yourself for it, now you just had to do. Besides, maybe Alastor was right, maybe he'd take the announcement better than you thought.

There was only one way to find out.

----------

"WHAT??? HIM???"

He did not, in fact, take it better than you thought.

You tried to wait for the perfect time to break the news, but---of course---your dad had immediately spotted the ring on your finger- (a detail that, somehow, everyone else had missed) -and pressed you for more information, his actual reason for visiting long forgotten. By both him and everyone else, apparently.

Getting a meeting with Heaven was suddenly playing second fiddle to everyone's curiosity about who you'd been dating behind their backs---who you were now engaged to. So, after a lot of pressing and pressing, you'd finally relented and admitted that it was Alastor. Which had led to...all of this.

Charlie was vibrating off the walls, everyone else was in various states of shock, and your dad...looked like he was in the middle of a mental breakdown.

"You can't- I mean-" He laughed, more than a little hysterical, "you're not actually engaged to him, are you?"

Before you could answer, Alastor cut in---a sharp edge coloring his tone.

"Why wouldn't she be?"

Your father's attention switched from you to Alastor, practically seething as he looked at him. You couldn't see Alastor's face from your place beside him, but you could tell that the feeling was mutual by the crackling electricity that crawled across your skin.

"Have you ever fucking met you?" Your father asked incredulously.

"Yes, and I'm very lucky to have her," Alastor responded, punctuating his statement with a gentle kiss on your cheek---a kiss obviously done just to piss your father off, since you knew Alastor wasn't exactly fond of public affection.

The tension was thick in the air as the two just stood there, glaring at each other.

Then finally, your father laughed.

"Alright then..."

Jazzy, upbeat, music suddenly came out of nowhere, and—before you had any time to process what was happening—you were drawn into your father’s song and dance number, the world around you shifting to follow his words. 

“Looks like you could use some help, from the big boss of Hell himself! Obviously, since I don’t know how you could’ve felt that this–”

One voice, “Bastard!”

Two, “Jackass!”

Three, “Arrogant piece of shit!”

Back to your father, “–would ever make a suitable husband! Especially for you, did you forget?” 

He twirled you around until you were in an elegant dress and crown, falling backwards onto a throne.

“You’re a princess of Hell, so better yet! Rather than an old outdated crook—who’s probably just using you for your station, at least from the looks—why not let your dad give you pick of the lot?” He snapped his fingers, new people appearing with every beat, “men, women, or those in between; outgoing royalty or someone serene, anything but this walking tomato lookin’ prick—you could have anyone, so just take your pick!” 

A streak of shadow suddenly shoved your father to the side, Alastor appearing in his place with a charming grin—his shadow twirling around you like it was trying to hold you. 

“My dear it’s true that you’re one of a kind—everything anyone could ask for, a very rare find,” he knelt before you and kissed your hand, “I’m a very lucky sinner to call you my own, to stand by your side as you sit on your throne.” 

He then moved to sit on the arm of your throne, pulling you into his side, “however I have to agree that someone around here is a crook, but it’s certainly not me, so let’s take a look!”

The first person he picked out of the crowd was Charlie, his shadow minions bringing her forward dressed in her own royal attire, “your darling sister, who’s been by your side—supporting you through your troubles, high or low tide!” 

Next came the other residents, dressed in their own fancy clothing, although less detailed than yours and your sister’s, “your close hotel friends, do you dare suspect them? Even though they’ve proven they’d follow you to the end?” 

Finally he knelt in front of you again, dressed in his own royal attire and placing a golden ring on your left ring finger, “or do you truly think it could be me, your doting husband-to-be? Could I be the traitor despite the love, trust, and devotion I’ve given to you, or everything I’ve done to prove that my affection is true?” 

“Of course not! You know that, so why don’t you see?” Suddenly your father was shoved forward like a criminal, the shadows dressing him in peasant style clothing, “the only traitor around here is this snake, does he take you for Eve?”

“Excuse me?” Your father asked incredulously, pushing back the shadows and reappearing in his usual clothing.

“Trying to lead you to darkness with his tricks and lies, wanting you to be miserable and lonely instead of by my side.” 

“Hold on now–”  “All this unsupportive jargon, telling you how you should live your life,” Alastor practically snarled, looking your father dead in the eye, “no wonder that this bastard was left by his wife.”

Your head was left spinning as things quickly switched between your father playing a golden fiddle, to your fiance interrupting him on a vintage piano—the two practically seething at each other before turning their attention back to you.

First Alastor, “my dear, why don’t you pick your own path, instead of listening to this stick in the mud?”

Then your father, “why choose a shitty partner over your own blood?”

And that is how it went. 

“And pick a deadbeat father, nothing more than a dud? Wouldn’t you rather find happiness with the family you choose?” 

Over.

“Yeah, sure, pick a bunch of losers–” 

And over.

“Can you butt out of my song?” 

And over.

“Your song? I started this!”

Until finally– “I’m singing it, I’ll finish it!” 

You had had enough. 

“Oh you tacky piece of sh–” 

"JUST STOP!" You shouted, bringing their argument to a screeching halt and drawing a deadly silence into the room, "for fuck's sake---how can the two of you not see your own hypocrisy?! Even when it's sitting right in front of you!"

The two of them stared at you, wide eyed, but you kept going before they could respond.

"You're arguing over what's best for me, while not even fucking asking me what I want! This isn't even about me, this is about the two of you hating each other," you took a breath, desperately blinking back tears, "well you know what? BOTH of you are hurting me! BOTH of you are ignoring my wishes! BOTH of you are treating me like shit! And I don't want to fucking be around EITHER OF YOU!"

And without another word you turned on your heel and left the hotel.

----------

The moment you heard footsteps coming near you, you flipped around and snarled---prepared to snap at your father or Alastor, whichever one decided to come kiss your ass to one-up the other. But, instead, you only found Charlie standing behind you, a concerned look on her face.

You immediately turned away from her and wiped your eyes, not wanting your little sister to see you like this, but she didn’t seem to mind—just sitting beside you and resting her head on your shoulder as you sniffled.

After a moment, you broke the silence.

“I just…I don’t understand,” you said, voice shaking, “they’ve known each other for five fucking minutes and already hate each other. Why can’t they just get along for me? Do I seriously matter that little to them?”

Charlie was quiet for a moment, mind churning.

“I don’t necessarily think that’s it,” her voice was quiet as she spoke, as if she was thinking through each word, “I think that, for the first time ever, both of them are dealing with the fact that they might not be the most important man in your life and…I guess this is just their way of reacting to that.”

You turned to her, eyebrows raising, and she continued to explain.

“Family is important to you, Alastor knows that, but he hasn’t had to…complete, I guess, with anyone for his place by your side before—so, when dad showed up and openly disapproved of him, I think he just got scared that you’d leave him because of what dad thinks,” she took a breath, still thinking through her words, “dad, on the other hand, has always been the one who you’d run to for everything—if you were scared, sad, happy, or needed help, he was the one you’d go to. Now you have Alastor and that’s who you go to for everything, so I think dad just got scared that you wouldn’t need him anymore now that you’re getting married.”

“Congratulations, by the way,” she added wryly, squeezing your arm with a smile.

You gave her a small smile back, “how’d you ever get to be so smart?”

“I learned from the best.”

You sighed, “I just wish they’d get over themselves, I can—in fact—have more than one important man in my life, there’s not a fucking limit.”

“Yeah well…men can be stupid, I guess.”

You snorted and pulled her close, gently ruffling her hair, “you’ve got that right…between you and me, though, I like you better than both of them.”

Charlie giggled and hugged you, the two of you inseparable, just like when you were kids. You took a little longer to just breathe and enjoy the sweet moment with your sister, before finally releasing her.

She then got up and dusted off her suit, bright smile now firmly back in place, “now, let’s head back! I’m pretty sure Vaggie’s already got them working on their apologies, and I already have so many ideas for a new lesson plan on: selflessness and communication!”

You shook your head, but didn’t manage to quite hide your smile. Whatever happened, at least you would always have Charlie by your side…and Alastor and your father, if the two could manage not to kill each other.

“Those apologies better not be in fucking song format.”

“…I’ll text Angel.”

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #devotion's posts: requests🪻 #devotion’s posts: fic stuff 🪻

[inbarfink]

I have… so many little thoughts about Simon’s shift in the climax of ‘Prismo the Wishmaster’. He’s so ready to give up, to resign to Death By Interdimensional Beetle Cop. And the thing that pulls him out of it, gets him to see a purpose in his life again, is seeing Fionna cry.

And this moment is so important for Fionna and Cake because this is their first moment to really process the Implications and Consequences of their magical adventure. You know, it’s not just a dream you can wake up from - this is actually a matter of life and death and the fate of their entire world.

And it’s actually, also kinda the same from Simon’s perspective? Even if he was already told they are real and have been real all along a while ago - I think seeing Fionna break out in tears is really the moment where he processed her not as a manifestation of Ice King’s madness, not as yet another way the universe is kicking him when he’s down, not as a cruel joke at his expense. But really actually as people, who need his help.

And, I think about this, also in context with this moment?

Simon Petrikov is… a dad at heart. Simon’s first focus episode in F&C starts with a prologue of him and Marceline surviving in the wasteland. Showing that despite being under much more miserable circumstances

he still seemed to hold himself together far better than present-day Simon. 

Because the need to protect Marcy and keep her happy was giving him purpose and a motivation to hold himself together. 

And this desire to help and nurture and protect is clearly still deep within him. It’s just that now he feels incapable for doing so. In both body-

And spirit -

But now, suddenly, he is once again the Only Person Who Can Help this younger person in distress.

And I think that is a huge part of his motivation to keep on going right now. I mean, just look at how quickly he goes from dismissing Fionna and Cake - into basically declaring that he has to protect them. And fully willing to sacrifice his own identity and sanity to bring magic back to their world because he knows it’ll make Fionna and Cake happy. Because the moment he saw Fionna tear up, he basically decided to Adopt her.

And that’s, you know, technically a step forward - but it is a very very imperfect step. 

Like, at the very least he’s not drinking his sorrows away while waiting for death out of pure despair and spite. At least he has a sense of purpose and a reason to open up for others again and bond. And we’ve seen how much this has been a great coping mechanism for pulling himself together through difficult times.

My guess is that after two episodes of only seeing Simon Petrikov at his lowest and very worst - Fionna and Cake are finally going to get an understanding of Simon’s actual positive qualities as his dad-instincts are going to bring them up to the surface again. 

Buuuuuuuut….

You know, tying your sense of self-worth and motivation entirely to how well you can Dad is not particularly healthy in the long run either. And it’s going to cause problems both for Simon and for F&C.

Looking at it from what's best of Simon, for the sake of protecting Fionna and Cake and making them happy by bringing magic and wonder back into their world - Simon is willing to throw himself right into the suffering and trauma that he’s been fearing all this time and has been trying so hard to get away from. I mean, it’s also about how Simon has started to miss being Ice King in a weird twisted way and how he resigned himself to being miserable in general. It’s also about that, but the part that he actually says out loud is that he’s doing this to protect Fionna and Cake.

So that’s, you know, still very Not Good. Simon can’t hang his entire ability to properly function on there being Younger People who need his protection. He can't actually move forwards by trying to relive the Better Times of the Horrible Post-Apocalyptic Wasteland. That's not a sustainable coping mechanism. And it’s an incredibly unhealthy amount of self-sacrifice. 

And on Fionna’s side… she never said she wanted Simon to protect her.

She might want a useful teammate or a helping hand, she might need a friend. But I don’t think she needs a Dad. Simon is surely old enough to be her father (even just counting his age biologically and not the fact he’s 1058 years old) but Fionna’s not a Literal Child like Marcy was. Fionna Campbell is a grown-ass woman in her early 30’s (Finn is 29 years old right now and there was always kinda the implication that Fionna was a bit older than him). 

(And, heck, if she IS the daughter of a gender-flipped Minerva Campbell, she is probably not in the market for a new overprotective dad. She’s fully booked out on that.)

AND while Fionna does not possess full memories of her magical-adventuring-self, she clearly retains some of her fighting and athletic abilities.

Meanwhile Cake is clearly an adult in cat years and is just as much of an insanely powerful shapeshifter as Jake was.

So where does this middle-aged scrawny nerd get off, acting like it’s his job to sacrifice his mind in order to protect them?

And Fionna very much wants to be the hero, she wants to be at the center of the action. It is no coincidence that her own idealized version of Ice King/Simon is a Tuxedo Mask.

Someone who can give her a helping hand and words of encouragement when things get rough - 

But still lets her be the main hero of the story.

And you know, right now Fionna and Cake have not fully processed the implications of Simon choosing to become Ice King… but once they see a bit of who Simon really is at his better moments. Yeah, they’re probably gonna have some objections to the idea that he should throw his entire identity away just for their own sake. 

Back when Simon allowed the Crown to slowly consume him so he could protect Marcy, it felt like a noble sacrifice. It really seemed like he had no other options. But now he has the entire multiverse on his disposal and two serious badasses on his side. Simon has to learn to see the difference between a codependent senseless self-sacrifice and something that will actually help Fionna and Cake.

So if Simon is really going to lean too hard on his Dad aspect, it’s actually going to cause some really big problems down the line. For his own mental well-being, and for Fionna and Cake. It is in a way, a step in the right direction. And I think it’s going to lead to our main trio finally becoming closer and understanding each other - but unless Simon learns to temper himself, it’s going to cause some serious interpersonal conflicts.

At least this is my thoughts about these interactions right now. I know they’ve been really short but I think they’re really full of Meaning and Emotions. But really, we’ll just have to wait and see.

#adventure time #atimers #fionna and cake #adventure time fionna and cake #adventure time spoilers #adventure time simon #fionna and cake spoilers #fionna and cake series #fionna and cake simon #fionna and cake show #at #at spoilers #fac spoilers #f&c #f&c spoilers #simon petrikov #simon adventure time #fionna the human #fionna campbell #adventure time fionna #cake the cat #adventure time cake #prismo the wishmaster

[moongreenlight]

What if your brain tells you that nurse!reader from the previous fic was on the field with the boys as an on call medic and gets taken as a POW and ghost is losing his fucking mind?? - like actual feral behavior

Ohhhhhhhhhmygod. Hi? I’m in your walls. So mad I didn’t see this before because I’ve been SLAVING over a Simon fic all week and this apparently is the motivation I needed to put some more batshit insane things on the internet forever.

We all know that Simon is a fucking machine. Prides himself on his ability to essentially turn off his humanity on the field. But for some reason his nurse!reader is the one thing that interrupts that ability. Even seeing you treating a few rowdy privates gets him worked up. Lingers around the medbay in his free time for no apparent reason just to side eye your patients and glare at them to make sure there’s absolutely no possibility of you getting hurt.

There was probably an occasion where you were treating a soldier who didn’t fare well with pain. Moaning and crying and thrashing while you did something simple like tuck their arm into a sling, and they somehow writhed around enough to hook you in the cheek with their elbow. Nothing serious, but it left an angry red mark on your cheek for so long that he caught it on one of your evening walks around base. Usually after dark so you could both avoid being found out.

And then the next day you see Simon dragging that same soldier to a different nurse’s bed under the armpits. Explaining gruffly that he went unconscious because he couldn’t handle training. (He made the poor bastard run the track in full tactical gear on one of the hottest days of the year for nearly an hour straight. No water. No breaks.)

You were the kindest, softest thing he’d ever come in contact with. Something he never thought he’d be able to find in this lifetime after so much hate and anger and pain. He couldn’t risk losing you, which is why he was so strict on his saying no to you joining the task force on the field. The shit they did was dangerous. Immensely so. And this brought up two main points for Simon.

One; he wouldn’t be able to focus on the task at hand knowing you were out. He slept with one eye open when you were nestled close to his chest and snoring softly in the comfort of your own home that he’d all but booby-trapped home alone style. No fucking way he’d allow you out into hostile territory with only a introductory understanding of self-defense. He’d be on pins and needles the entire mission. Probably get the entire squad killed because he’d constantly be looking over his shoulder for you.

Two; it would rip him to shreds if he lost you. You were the only person he truly saw as an equal. The first time the two of you met, he was probably being angsty and rude because he did something to land himself in the medbay, and when he refused to take off his tact vest so you could listen to his heart and lungs, you all but held him at scalpel-point and threatened him within an inch of his life until he finally submitted. After that he was fucking hooked. Obsessed with the way you could get brutes like him to roll over and show you their belly like obedient dogs. And you were kind to him. Immeasurably kind. Dealt with his mood swings and took the time to get to know him. Suffered through the impossibly long process of him letting his guard down.

So if somehow his orders were ignored, it was almost certain that you’d be given strict orders to keep your involvement under wraps. Price would have enough of an idea of the situation to keep the two of you on opposite schedules in the days leading up to deployment. Minimize the possibility of you letting slip that you’d be coming along to preserve not only the integrity of his team but also his quality of life.

It would seem like a regular day to Simon at first. Loading into the helo before dawn, sitting between Johnny and Gaz and trying to tune them out while they snarked at one another across him. And then Price would come on looking guilty as sin. You could practically smell it coming off him. Leaning both his arms on the open door and signaling the driver to start the engine for a quick take off in case Simon decided to abandon ship in his outrage.

He’d give some spiel about teamwork and the importance of focusing on the mission and whatever other bullshit he thought would keep Simon the most level headed. Spewing on and on until Gaz finally cut him off with a pointed yawn. At which point he’d give the group one last look, lingering the longest on the ghost mask, before stepping aside to reveal you.

Dressed up in a uniform that looked about a size too big. Tailored as best it could be in the short notice. Pants chopped and hemmed to make them a manageable length, belt pulled as tight as it could go around your waist. Strapped into a vest that was loaded with medical supplies instead of weapons. Two pistols holstered on your either side.

Simon was beyond livid. Spouting steam like a cartoon bull. Staggering to stand when the chopper took off and stalking over to the cockpit where Price sat and tried to look casual.

Gave him a fucking earful. Screaming over the roar of the engine into the earpiece on a private channel for the entire two hour long flight. Bitching about paperwork and dead weight and how it’s just another person he’ll need to look after and he doesn’t want to. It’s almost impressive. Price doesn’t get a word in sideways. Gets shut down immediately if he even dares to open his mouth.

And he’s a monster when he finds out you’ve been taken POW. Circled by the enemy team like ravenous wolves finding a wounded deer. Soap and Gaz both have to pin him down when Price breaks the news. Seeing fucking red.

A large part of me thinks he internalizes a lot of the torture he went through in the comics. Letting it sit and fester inside him like the worst kind of poison that it took him years to meticulously extract from his very being and carefully contain into a small vial. Laying dormant in the back of his mind for a moment like this. He had no idea what the enemy wanted with you, so he had to assume the worst.

Storms their base by himself. Sniffs you out through a maze of bunkers and underground tunnels and infinitely many heavily secured doors. And the rest of the force just watches his six. Stands back feeling a little nauseous, but letting him blaze down his war path. Any and everyone who gets in his way is guilty unless they can prove their innocence- and they don’t get the chance. Runs through all his ammo gunning down countless grunts and privates stationed outside the base of planted as decoys. Specifically demanding that Price be the one to give up his weapons and ammo so he can continue on. And it’s the one time that the captain allows him to snarl orders like that.

Price knows that Simon is, in his core, a fighting dog. Rescued by the force and given an opportunity to channel his aggression into a more productive outlet. And now it seems all his hard work and training is coming unraveled. Watching Simon once again snap his jaws and bare his teeth, killing without rhyme or reason to get you back, is jarring to say the least. So in some last-ditch effort to preserve some of the trust that they’d built, he surrenders. Shows his belly. Shrugs off his rifle with no objection other than the way his mouth drew into a tight line.

Simon kicks through heavy metal reinforced doors without the need for a battering ram. Pushes himself well past the point of exhaustion. Fueled purely off the instinctual need to recover you. He can’t speak. Can’t eat. Can’t drink. Can’t stop.

He’d mow through the first few ranks of soldiers until they finally found someone that looked like they’d have at least a sliver of useful information and beat them within an inch of their life until they gave up the information that would eventually lead him to you.

In all honesty, you were probably taken with the intent to lure them in. Not anticipating your absence would have such an impact. Kept you bound in a guarded room. Roughed up a bit just from your struggle, but they hadn’t had time to interrogate you before they got word that 141 was coming in wild and sideways.

This would send Simon even further into madness. Body aching, bleeding from his knuckles. His knees and shoulders screaming their protest when he broke down the door, sending it crashing into the room. And the first thing he sees is you huddled in a corner blindfolded and bound with handcuffs that were cutting into your wrists from your trying to escape. He’d be an entirely different person. (I am giggling and kicking my feet.)

He wouldn’t even bother wasting time with the rifle. He’d handle what few guards were left with his bare hands. Possessed by some kind of superhuman strength. Catching a second wind the moment he laid eyes on you. He’d rush over, the rest of the boys standing guard in the hallway, and break you free from your restraints.

And as much as I would want him to be sweet and coddle you and coo over you, he’d probably be riding such a high that he wouldn’t be able to. He’d immediately start in on you, but with significantly less ferocity than he had with Price.

“You got a fuckin’ death wish? Think they’d turn you into a martyr for bein’ a medic on the field? Real original fuckin’ concept, yeah?”

He’d pull you in close to him, giving you an incredibly detailed once over. Inspecting your face and neck and arms legs for any further damage, and once he determined after three checks that all your wounds were purely superficial, he’d allow his hands to shake just slightly when he smoothed your hair back off your forehead.

#cod mw2 #call of duty #cod x reader #141 headcanons #ghost cod #ghost mw2 #simon ghost riley #simon riley #drabble #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x you #ghost x reader #moongreenlight #moongreenlightwrites

[miupow]

five kisses ⭑𓂃 c. beomgyu

𝄞𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ 𓈈⭒♬ ﾟ. choi beomgyu x gn!reader ✧˖° five types of kisses from the love of your life.

GENRE ── fluff

WARNINGS ── est. relationship, kisses, toothrotting fluff, silly cuddly boyfie gyu

WORDS ── 1.1k

A/N ── happy late comeback day!! it took me way longer to finish this than i wanted to cos i could not for the life of me find the motivation to write it TT but finally it’s here! it’s short but it’s my longest fluff work so far… hoping to write longer fluff works in the future

you’ve kissed choi beomgyu more times than you could ever hope to count. each one a single shining star that made up the constellations of your relationship, the galaxy that was your love; your days and nights were peppered with his kisses just as often as they were by his jokes and his banter, by his hand on your waist; they were something so beautifully interwoven into your everyday life that it was hard to keep track.

while you couldn’t remember every one, you would always remember their types– beomgyu gave you five different kisses out of all of the hundreds and thousands that you’ve shared.

absently to the back of your cradled hand when you weren’t paying attention.

beomgyu always insisted that he hold your hand on movie nights, no matter how far you may end up seated away from him– that night you had sat in front of him cross-legged on the floor, letting all of the boys take the couch while you rested your back against his legs, and even then did beomgyu kept your fingers laced together. he ignored your complaints about having to bend your arm up behind your back with an evil little smile.

“that can’t be comfortable.” soobin laughed, tearing his eyes away from the tv screen only to hand yeonjun a bag of chips. you can hear beomgyu’s quiet snicker somewhere above your head.

“it’s not!” you whined, failing to hide your smile behind a pout. “my arm is falling asleep!”

“we can switch places, if you want.” hueningkai added gently, squished between the armrest and soobin’s broad frame– unlike him, you would probably fit just fine, comfortably even.

but that was when you felt it; beomgyu lifted your intertwined hands to his face, the skin of your fingers tingling as his plush lips ghosted your knuckles, and as gently and ardently as he possibly could pressed a kiss to the back of your hand. you gave hueningkai a polite, sideways smile.

“actually, i think i’m just fine here.”

so passionate you can hardly breathe, hardly even think.

“i love you,” beomgyu whispered, exalted like a prayer; you’ve never heard him sound like that before. his big brown puppy-dog eyes take up your vision, blinking, swimming with overwhelming emotion, framed by pretty long eyelashes; they sparkled like the brightest of stars even in the dark. you opened your mouth to respond, surprised and euphoric, but his pouty bottom lip wobbling with nerves knocked any scattered thought from your head.

So you kissed him instead.

you were used to first kisses being awkward, uncoordinated, but beomgyu kissed you back like your lips were the only one’s he’d ever known; you gasped softly against his lips and he drank it in like ambrosia, tilted your face to deepen the kiss as he cupped your cheeks in his shaking hands. it was perfect, indescribable, gentler than you had expected beomgyu to be. not like fireworks or explosions, but simply his lips on yours, and a slow caressing warmth that left you unable to focus on anything other than his touch, his taste.

you hadn’t known what to do with your hands, and it didn’t come to you until you both pulled away for air that you had been digging your nails into his sweater-clad shoulders. he didn’t seem to mind much.

“i love you,” beomgyu repeated, his words dancing across your lips in his hot, panting breaths. “can we do that again?”

softly and sweetly and exchanged in dimly lit doorsteps, a goodbye, a promise.

he’s running late, but you can’t let go. not when you have him in your arms like this, pretty face illuminated by the streetlights as you kiss him goodbye. “stay?” you whispered against his lips, just short of begging. beomgyu chuckled and shook his head, the best he can with your arms wrapped around his neck.

“you know i can’t.”

“just for the night…” you argued half-heartedly, but you already knew you had lost. “they certainly won’t miss you for just one night.”

“baby…” beomgyu sighed, shushing you with his hands caressing down your back and his chin resting on the crown of your head. you begged like this every night, but it never got any easier for him to say no. “i have to go.”

“when will you be back?”

“so soon you won’t even have time to miss me.”

“but i already miss you.”

“ya, you’ll be fine.” beomgyu tutted, pressing a heartbreakingly gentle kiss to your forehead. his smile is infectious, even with your sour mood.

“one last kiss? please?” you pout, your fingers tangled in the hairs at the base of his neck. beomgyu’s eyes crinkle into sweet, shimmery half-moon cresents.

“of course.”

as a surprise, a sudden declaration of love and mischief.

you could never let your guard down around him— in a good way, of course.

you sat on the couch engrossed in your phone, mind consumed with endless scrolling; beomgyu had been caught up playing a video game on his console, headphones on and controller in hand as he cursed at the monitor, and you were simply trying to pass the time he came back to the land of the living. but then it was you who was the one disconnected from the real world, as you hadn’t even noticed that beomgyu had placed his controller down and had gotten up out of his seat.

there’s nothing your boyfriend hates more than being ignored, despite how much he loved to ignore you in favor for his games— you gasp when a hand comes around the back of the couch to snatch your phone out of your hands, and you turn your head sharply to admonish your attacker… just for beomgyu to land an obnoxious wet kiss to your lips, giggling and grinning like a cat that had gotten the cream.

“beomgyu!” you whined petulantly as your boyfriend continued to smatter kisses across your cheeks. “i was watching something!”

“don’t care.” beomgyu snickered, tossing your phone to the side. “i’m done with my game; pay attention to me!”

against your forehead when you fall asleep, a wish goodnight as he takes in your beauty.

you had gotten into the habit of pretending to be asleep when you weren’t, just so you could experience these moments. cuddled up tight in beomgyu’s warm embrace, your head cradled against his chest, his chest rising and falling in tandem with his heartbeat.

beomgyu’s hands smooth down your arms and back, grounding you and lulling you into the sweetest sense of calm; you’ve never felt safer than right there in his arms.

finally beomgyu does it, something he does every night when he’s certain you’ve nodded off; slowly and carefully he presses his lips to your forehead in a chaste kiss, rests there as you try your hardest not to smile. “goodnight baby,” he whispers, barely audible, his breath hot against your skin. “i love you.”

#ɱเµρσω𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ౨ৎ #k-labels #txt x reader #beomgyu x reader #txt fluff #txt soft thoughts #txt soft hours #txt scenarios #beomgyu scenarios #beomgyu soft thoughts #beomgyu soft hours #beomgyu fluff #[ 🌹 ] : sfw #[txt] : beomie

[edenesth]

The Way to His Heart [10]

Pairing: general!Seonghwa x wife!reader

AU: arranged marriage au (Joseon era)

Word Count: 4.5k

Trigger Warnings: graphic violence/torture, gore, implied mutilation

Summary: Life has been hell ever since your mother's passing many years ago. Despite being from a prominent family, you've never received the privileges associated with it. It only got worse with the arrival of your stepmother and her daughters. When the intimidating General Park was in search of a wife, your father seized the opportunity to dispose of you, simultaneously securing a connection with the powerful general—killing two birds with one stone.

Part 9 | Fic Masterlist | Part 11

"You wanted to see me, sir?" Wooyoung called out, entering the general's study with Jongho following closely behind, having been summoned to the estate.

Seonghwa looked up from his desk, "Ah yes, I heard you turned down the bonus incentive we offered. Why is that? Is there something else that you wish to have?"

Having encountered few who would refuse extra money, your husband found it hard to comprehend the private investigator's decision. Most people around him were usually drawn by the allure of his wealth or other associated benefits, which left him curious about Wooyoung's motives for declining the bonus. Surely, there was something specific he desired.

The younger man beamed, "My lord, I wasn't working so willingly for you because I wanted something more from you. Honestly, nothing makes me happier than being recognised by you! I just... okay, maybe there is one thing I really want."

Raising his brow, the general was not surprised by the sudden admission, "Go on, name it then."

With a cheeky grin, the investigator replied, "It's that you allow me to help you with whatever problems you have now!"

Your husband rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, "What do you mean? I have no problems now; the worst is over."

"Really? Is that why you're here sulking alone instead of being with Lady Park? You clearly want to be near her, and yet, here you are, staying away from her because you haven't a clue how to face her after the traumatising ordeal you put her through yesterday."

That finally piqued Seonghwa's attention, prompting him to sit up straighter, though he attempted to maintain a nonchalant demeanour, "H-how did you figure that out?"

Without waiting for Wooyoung's response, he shook his head, "No, wait, actually, I don't want to know that. Just tell me... what should I do? I realise I haven't considered well enough what she went through, but I... I've never had to care for someone like this before, and I'm not really sure how to..."

The investigator offered an understanding smile, "My lord, the key to any relationship is communication. You need to talk to Lady Park. Ask her how she's feeling, and tell her you're sorry for what she went through. Avoiding each other won't solve anything; it will only create more distance between you two. You're her pillar of support now, and she needs to feel that you're there for her. You both deserve happiness, but it starts with open and honest communication."

Absorbing the advice, the general nodded thoughtfully, "You're right, Wooyoung. I appreciate your straightforwardness. I'll go talk to her and make things right."

Without hesitating, he sprang from his chair and made his way out of the study. The assistant and his friend couldn't contain their laughter, covering their mouths with their hands, but quickly composed themselves when Seonghwa glanced back at them, "Oh, and please, accept the bonus. You deserve it, especially after this."

Before Wooyoung could object, he had already exited the room and was rushing down the path toward the House of Lotus, his heart pounding at the thought of seeing his wife again.

He remembered how quiet you had been during the entire journey back home the day before, your gaze fixed on the passing scenery outside the window. While you weren't overtly distant or cold to him, you seemed lost in thought throughout dinner. You excused yourself early, retiring to your quarters. The atmosphere carried an unspoken tension, making him hesitant to say anything for fear of your potential reaction.

Reflecting on it, he realised he should have assured you that things would be better from that point forward. Rather than maintaining a facade of normalcy, he regretted not breaking the silence and being there for you in that moment of unease.

His steps hesitated, and his breath deepened as you finally appeared in his line of sight, seated alone in the pavilion outside your room. Your lady etiquette books lay open beside you, but the faraway look in your eyes remained glued to the horizon beyond the lotus pond. For a moment, he stood there, appreciating your beauty, suddenly feeling thankful you looked nothing like your father.

However, as soon as you turned your head slightly and noticed him standing by the entrance, he blinked rapidly, feeling flustered. Gathering his courage, he took a deep breath and approached you.

Just go talk to her, you fool.

Seeing him approach, you closed the books and made room for him to sit in the small pavilion. He offered a warm smile, "Hey, I hope I'm not bothering you or anything."

Shaking your head, you returned a small smile, "No, not at all. I tried to study, but I just... I couldn't."

As he settled down beside you, reaching for your hand, you didn't flinch or pull away. He released a relieved breath and moved closer, "It's alright, you don't have to force yourself. I know you're probably upset with me. I... I'm sorry, my dear."

Lifting your head to meet his eyes, you furrowed your brows, "What? Why would I be upset with you?"

He winced, wondering if you were intentionally testing him to see if he knew what he did wrong. But then again, he knew you would never do anything like that. Sighing, he admitted, "Look, I know I should've thought things through better yesterday. I was so focused on wanting to punish your family for what they did, I forgot about how horrible it must have been for you to go back there and sit through all of that."

"I acknowledge it was a mistake. My intention was to give you a chance to confront your family by taking you to your old room. I didn't think it would affect you so badly. I realise now that it was a misguided decision, and I regret taking you back to that place. I'm a goddamned idiot."

His admission tugged at your heart, and you responded by placing a comforting hand over his.

"Seonghwa, you're not an idiot. I'm not upset with you," You assured him, "I've been quiet since the visit because I'm still processing the fact that my own father killed my mother. All this time, I believed she died from sickness. Now, I can't help but wonder how different my life would have been if only she were still alive. He took her away from me just like that, and for what? All for his own selfish reasons..."

"I just... I feel so—" Tears welled up in your eyes, and your voice broke, "I-I'm sorry..." You pulled your hands away from him, attempting to wipe your eyes, but he gently grasped your shoulders and turned you to face him.

"No, you need to stop apologising. You have every right to be sad, and I'm here to tell you that you never have to endure any more of the pain you're going through alone. I'm here for you, okay? From now on, I want you to lean on me whenever things get too unbearable. Can you do that?"

Feeling the genuine warmth in Seonghwa's tone and seeing the unmistakable care in his eyes, you finally broke down. The weight of the revelations, the pain of your father's actions, and the years of emotional torment spilt over, and you couldn't hold back your tears any longer. He pulled you close, cradling you in his arms as you sobbed against his shoulder.

Whispering comforting words into your ear, he pressed gentle kisses onto the top of your head. His touch was a soothing balm, providing the comfort and support you desperately needed in that moment. As you let out your emotions, he held you tighter.

The sound of your heart-wrenching cries only caused an uncomfortable squeeze in his heart. The general had never experienced this kind of ache before. Throughout his life, he had always believed that no one had a tougher life than he did. But then you came along, with your fragile form, managing to shake his entire world and alter his perspectives on life. All of a sudden, the notion of having someone to protect and care for didn't seem so repulsive, especially when it was you.

You slowly pulled back, staring up at him through your wet lashes, and offered a grateful smile, "Seonghwa, I want to thank you for doing all this for me. I never imagined someone caring enough to go through all that trouble. I promise, in return, I'll try my hardest to be a worthy wife for you."

He wiped away your tears tenderly and gazed into your eyes, "You don't need to prove anything, my love. You're already perfect, just as you are."

Your heart raced, and your eyes widened as you stuttered, "W-wait, what... what did you just call me?"

He stilled, realising the words that had slipped from his mouth before he softened. Leaning close, he pressed his forehead against yours, "My love."

Seonghwa's presence became almost intoxicating. Feeling him so close, as if with a mind of its own, your eyes slowly fluttered closed. He took that as permission to lean in further, and after what felt like an eternity, his lips touched yours in a soft and tentative kiss. When you didn't push him away, he bravely angled his head before pressing his lips firmly against yours.

Finally, our first kiss.

Pulling away after a while to catch your breath, you bit your lip shyly, "I-I'm sorry if I wasn't—"

He shook his head, "Don't worry, it's my first time kissing someone too," He admitted, struggling to take his eyes off your swollen lips. A soft smile played on his lips as he caressed your cheek with his thumb, "Can I..." He asked with half-lidded eyes, and you nodded breathlessly.

Without wasting another moment, he captured your lips in another loving kiss. The world seemed to fade away, leaving only the warmth of each other's presence. His touch was gentle yet filled with a depth of emotion. As the kiss deepened, you felt a rush of emotions, a mix of vulnerability and passion.

Feeling the need for air, he pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours. Your eyes met, and you could see the affection and sincerity in his gaze, "You're perfect." He whispered, his voice filled with tenderness, realising that kissing you might just be his new favourite thing to do from now onwards. The moment lingered, the air charged with newfound emotions. It was a beginning, a sweet promise of the love that had blossomed between you.

"Your Majesty, please—"

The King slammed his fists against the handle of his throne, causing the minister to gasp and lower his head. He shook like a leaf, awaiting his impending doom as the ruler declared, "I don't want to hear another word from you, Jang. You're a bloody disappointment. Actually, you're worse than that, you monster."

Kneeling beside your father were your stepmother and stepsisters, equally trembling. Pathetic tears rolled down their cheeks as they attempted to put on a pity show, hoping to move His Majesty's heart. However, their efforts did little to appease his rage. He scoffed in disbelief at their audacity to cry, considering all the despicable things they had done to you and your mother.

This marked the first time the four women had set foot in the palace, and little did they anticipate it would be under such circumstances. The visit might also be their only time here, as the imminent judgement from the King would decide their fate.

Seonghwa stood in the corner, arms crossed over his chest, an amused expression on his face. He left home that morning after a lingering kiss on your lips, feeling rejuvenated and determined. Choosing not to burden you with the details of today's assembly, he shielded you from further thoughts about your family.

Don't worry, my love. I'll make sure they suffer a punishment worse than death.

"I can't stand to look at you imbeciles for another moment longer. Let's get this over with already. Royal Secretary Choi, would you be so kind as to enlighten us with all of Minister Jang's crimes and his punishments?" said the King.

Stepping forward from his corner next to the throne, San bowed, "As you wish, Your Majesty," Tugging open the scroll in his hands, he began reading out loud, "Minister Jang has committed a total of five crimes. First, he committed adultery voluntarily, and for that, he will be whipped with eighty lashes. Second, he committed the crime of official document forgery, and for that, he will be whipped an additional twenty lashes."

Dread filled the minister as he gulped, anxiously listening to the secretary move on to the next section, "Third, for the confinement, continuous abuse, and mistreatment of his own daughter, an innocent citizen, he will be flogged thirty times. Next, for violating the code of ethics as a minister, which is to be a law-abiding citizen, he will be stripped of his title and flogged another twenty times."

As your father's hands trembled, he attempted to hold himself up by pressing his sweaty palms against the floor, breathing heavily as he awaited the final and most severe punishment. San continued, "And finally, for the murder of his first wife, an innocent citizen, he will be sentenced to permanent exile."

That's... it?

Feeling a sliver of hope, the old man let out a small sigh of relief. At least it wasn't death by beheading or arsenic poisoning as he had feared. Banishment seemed acceptable; he supposed he could still live a quiet life somewhere away from here. Bowing deeply, he cried, "Thank you, Your Majesty! Your grace is immeasurable!"

All the ministers and officials present quickly stole glances at Seonghwa, wondering if he would throw a fit and object to the punishment that was yet to be the heaviest one. However, they failed to discern his feelings, as there was only an unreadable smirk on his handsome face.

Lady Jang and her daughters trembled as they awaited their turn. With a nod from the King, the secretary continued, "Moving on, Lady Jang has committed a total of four crimes. First, she voluntarily committed adultery, and for that, she will be whipped eighty lashes. Second, she committed the crime of official document forgery, and for that, she will be whipped an additional twenty lashes."

She nodded to herself, seemingly already accepting her fate, as she listened, "Third, for the confinement, continuous abuse, and mistreatment of the minister's eldest daughter, an innocent citizen, she will be flogged thirty times. And finally, for being an accomplice to the murder of the first Lady Jang, she will be sentenced to penal servitude for life."

Her eyes shot up immediately, finding it hard to accept that she would be separated from her husband. She had believed she, too, would be exiled along with him. But she quickly lowered her gaze as soon as she saw the glare the King had directed at her, as if daring her to complain about it.

Oh god, my life is over...

Noticing the King's patience wearing thin, San quickly concluded with the final sentencing, "Lastly, for the confinement, continuous abuse, and mistreatment of the minister's eldest daughter, an innocent citizen, the three young misses of the Jang family will be flogged thirty times each and sentenced to penal servitude for a total of thirty years."

All three of the sisters' jaws fell slack at their punishment. After living luxurious lives like spoiled brats for so long, they were now expected to be servants, performing hard labour for three decades. All their dreams of getting married and leading comfortable lives were shattered. The prospect of finding suitors after serving their sentences seemed bleak. Their lives were forever ruined, and things would never be the same.

"Now that that's settled, remove these individuals from my sight, and see to it that they receive their physical punishments by today. I don't want their presence contaminating my palace walls any longer than necessary. Moving on to the next agenda, let us discuss who will stand in as the interim Minister of Military Affairs until we elect a new one." The ruler grumbled, waving his hands dismissively.

Seonghwa grinned smugly, relishing the way your father's face fell as he absorbed His Majesty's words. The King fully intended to drive the point home, reminding him that, no matter how much he believed he contributed to the nation, he, too, was just as disposable. Consider it emotional torment for further punishment, if you will.

As the members of the Jang family were forcefully pulled to their feet and guided toward the palace torture chamber where all punishments for criminals were administered, the general bowed deeply, "Your Majesty, forgive this humble subject for not feeling too well. Would it be possible for me to excuse myself from the remainder of today's assembly?"

With a knowing glint in his eyes, the King nodded, "Of course, my boy. Nothing matters more than your well-being. I'll have Royal Secretary Choi send you the minutes of today's meeting later on."

All eyes were fixed on your husband as he confidently exited the hall, wearing an excessively pleased expression, looking a little too content to be feeling unwell as he had claimed. It became evident to everyone that he was plotting something, a scheme that even His Majesty was privy to and had tacitly approved.

"P-please, have mercy!"

Screams reverberated within the dim and eerie confines of the torture chamber, a place the general once frequented during his duties of interrogating spies, war criminals, and suspicious individuals to maintain peace within the nation.

The familiar sounds of your family's agonising cries filled his ears, and he couldn't suppress the chuckle that escaped his lips as he entered, "Ah yes, music to my ears."

Upon his arrival, all the royal guards present swiftly bowed deeply and greeted Seonghwa with respect, "Good day, General Park!" They dared not continue until he gave them a nod, "Go on, don't let me stop you. I'm only here to enjoy the show."

"Yes, sir!" They chanted in unison. To many young soldiers and palace guards, he was akin to a god, an embodiment of success they aspired to achieve one day. Therefore, his mere presence motivated them to perform their duties with increased ruthlessness and precision.

Taking a seat in the centre of the room, your husband bit his lip with a smug expression, locking eyes with your father whose gaze reflected anguish. The elderly man lay face down on a wooden table, enduring lash after lash on his already bloody and battered back. His painful ordeal was far from over.

Whimpering, your father pleaded, "S-Seonghwa, I'm s-still your father-in-law! Please, at least show a little mercy to your wife's father!" Beside him, his wife nodded pathetically, sharing the same painful fate. Meanwhile, the three daughters stood frozen in a corner, wrists cuffed, awaiting their turn to face their beatings.

A devilish laughter escaped the general as he shot a menacing glare at the former minister, "Oh, I'm sorry, was that supposed to make things any better? I would show you mercy if only you had shown my wife any. You shouldn't have said anything, you fool," Turning to the guard in charge of whipping your father, your husband ordered, "Not hard enough, soldier. I want to see his skin tear."

"Yes, sir!" Striking with increased force, the lashes landed on the old man's back, inflicting wounds that would take months to heal. The continuous shrieks of pain only served to widen the smile on Seonghwa's face, "And to think you were thanking His Majesty for his grace; you've underestimated the severity of being whipped, haven't you? Did you really think you were going to walk out of here with a small bruise? Dream on."

"Oh, I can't wait for all of you to experience the wonders of flogging! It will be delightful, a punishment perfectly suited for your kind." The general sang, eyeing the three girls slyly.

They cowered under his intense gaze, suddenly regretting every action they took on the day of your visit. Perhaps if they hadn't attempted any of those, they might have gotten away with a lighter sentence. But there was no point dwelling on such thoughts now.

"Father! Mother!" The girls cried, witnessing their parents only now completing the first half of their punishment. Before they could continue their wailing, guards approached them, saying, "Quiet down! Worry about yourselves instead; it's your turn."

The former minister and his wife looked practically lifeless by the time the guards were finished with their hundred lashes each. The skin on their backs was completely torn open, blood gushing out relentlessly. They were nearly unconscious by the time the guards moved them to separate poles, where they would be beaten with a heavy stick all over their bodies.

Letting out a small yawn, Seonghwa signalled for them to prepare for the flogging. This would be entertaining to witness; most criminals barely survived this punishment by the time it concluded. He would relish the idea of them being left in critical conditions.

"Enjoy yourselves! Thirty times each for what you've all done to my wife – just the perfect amount to leave you halfway to hell. Don't worry; you'll wish you were dead by the end of this. But rest assured, we will keep you alive," Your husband exclaimed with a clap of his hands, "Now, I want you to think of all the things you've done to my wife as you endure this. Can we all do that?"

In the ensuing silence, the guards approached each family member, forcefully striking them with the heavy sticks in their hands. With just one hit, all of them began howling in pain, "Answer the general! Can you all do as you are told?!"

"Y-yes! Yes!" All five of them sobbed miserably, and the general beamed, "Fantastic! Now, let the official flogging begin! The first one does not count, alright? Consider it warm up!"

The insanity in his eyes was genuinely terrifying, and your family was once again reminded of his reputation. Suddenly, it all made sense. This was how it felt to be a victim of his cruelty. They never should have sent you to him; that was their biggest mistake, and nothing they do or say could ever change that now.

"Yes, sir!"

And so it began, the screams that now filled the room were even more piercing than the ones during the first round of whipping.

Approaching each family member one by one, Seonghwa smirked, "Remember all the times you starved her?" Jinjoo nodded in between shrieks, "Good. And you, recall all the times you insulted her and made her feel small?" Jinhee repeated her sister's actions, nodding furiously, "Very good. And you, remember all the times you did something wrong and blamed it on her so that she would take your punishments for you?"

Jinah cried, tears and snot running down her sweaty face, "I'm sorry!" He shook his head, "Will saying a useless sorry change anything? Nope. Hit her harder, soldier," With a grin of approval, he moved on to your stepmother, "And you, recall all the times you kept her locked up in that prison cell you call her room?" Not wanting to suffer like her eldest, she nodded aggressively, "Good."

Finally stopping in front of your father, he crossed his arms over his chest, "And you, remember all the times you laid your hands on her? Your own daughter?" The former minister nodded quickly but was not spared, "Good, hit him even harder so he never forgets how it feels."

"Twenty-nine, thirty." The beatings stopped for the four women, and they collapsed one by one onto the floor like rag dolls. Blood trickled from their noses and the corners of their lips, their bodies covered in countless bruises and open wounds, soaking their clothes red. And that is only what can be seen on the outside; who knew what fatal internal injuries they could be suffering from.

With his hands propped on his hips, Seonghwa took in the sight with satisfaction, "Very well, some of these scars should last you for life. Now, you look as bad as the way you'd left my wife. Actually, worse. But that's good. I'm very happy with the outcome. Guards, take them away and make sure to send them to places where they're known to treat their servants poorly."

The girls sobbed upon hearing that, "General, please, have mercy! We've already suffered enough!" Your husband scoffed, "Mercy? Have you not been paying attention this entire time? I'm not known for that. Get them out of my sight."

As the guards dragged the wailing women out, they cried for their husband and father. The former minister yelled, still taking his twenty additional beatings as he watched his wife and daughters go, "W-will you not at least let me say my final goodbyes to them?"

"Minister, please don't make me laugh. Did you also allow my wife and her poor mother a final goodbye?" The old man had nothing to say at that, grunts of pain escaping his lips as he tried to endure the remainder of his punishment despite feeling like all of his insides had been beaten to mush at this point. He didn't have to look down to know that he was soaked in blood; he could feel the sting on his wounds whenever the slightest bit of wind blew past.

Just a bit more, and I'm free.

« Preview of Part 11 »

"Forty-nine, fifty." Your father sighed in relief when the punishment finally ceased. Collapsing to the ground upon being untied, he stared blankly ahead, feeling pain throughout his entire body. Slowly but surely, he slipped into unconsciousness due to the loss of blood.

Unfortunately, his respite was short-lived. A bucket of dirty water was abruptly dumped over him, causing him to scream in agony as the injuries on his body stung intensely, bringing tears to his eyes.

"Did you think it was over?" His blood ran cold as he noticed he was now tied to a chair, unable to move. With most of the guards gone, only him and Seonghwa remained.

"What do you think you're doing, general? I've completed all my physical punishments; you're supposed to banish me now!" The old man croaked, his eyes widening in fear as he noticed the dagger in your husband's hand.

The general burst into laughter, "Oh, minister, you can be quite slow at times. Did you genuinely believe that His Majesty's decision not to sentence you to death was an act of kindness? Who do you think requested your exile?"

"Y-you—"

Seonghwa smirked, "Indeed, it was me. Killing you would have been too merciful. No, I want you to endure a life so filled with pain that you wish for death every single day. Now, after seeing how skilled you were at begging all day, I believe you'd make a very talented beggar. Do you know what would make you a successful beggar?"

Tears streaming down his face, your father shook his head hopelessly as your husband traced the blade against his skin before whispering, "One without limbs."

That was the most violence I have ever written HAHA I had to channel my inner Joker for Seonghwa's character. Anyway, I hope that was satisfying enough!

As always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! <3

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#edenesth #the way to this heart #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #park seonghwa #ateez seonghwa #arranged marriage au #joseon era #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa x you #ateez fic #historical au

[sorryimananti-romantic]

saurrr what do we need to do to get that deleted scene??? 👀🤲🏼

beg.

LJHDFJGHKJ KIDDING you asked and i shall serve with not only the deleted scene but two bonus scenes:

from the fic guerrilla (serialkiller!dr.yunho x writer!reader)

wc: 4k

notes: surgeon yunho who just so happens to be a serial killer (a vigilante with morals if you must), reader is a writer working on gory crime fiction novels, they are housemates, fluffy stuff, talks about therapy, questionable morals, honestly very questionable morals, smut at the end (minors and anyone not comfortable with dark themes do not interact with the third section

"oh, you're home. almost didn't hear you," you said when you spotted yunho coming down the stairs. in the past few months, you had learned quite a few habits of his, one being that he could be as silent as a feather at times.

which was a bit scary, but you supposed it was just a natural skill of his.

"of course you didn't. you were humming something while you cooked," yunho stood near the counter, looking around and you muttered a silent curse- no wonder you didn't hear him. "need help?"

"yeah, if you could just set the table," you said and yunho obeyed instantly, taking out the utensils and scooping the dishes while you told him about your day- mail arrived, you befriended a stray cat that has now found home in your backyard, you went shopping for grocery today and got the stuff yunho had requested you to buy for him.

and while you ate, yunho said his thanks for saving him a trip to the grocery store and told you about his day- he went to assist a professor from his previous job in a complicated surgery upon his request. you told him he looked fond of that professor and he admitted that he owed most of his surgery skills to him and he often called him to assist him.

and just like that, you finished your meals and you started clearing the kitchen and washing the dishes while he went to the backyard to bring the laundry inside. it was the weekend and you wondered if yunho would join you in the living room just to hang out or watch something. or would he be too tired and just say goodnight and leave?

he stayed. he slumped down on the couch and took out his phone, probably responding to texts. you silently joined on the other end and turned on your laptop which opened to your document and reminded you of the question that had been looming over your head the entire day. you glanced at yunho but he seemed absorbed in his phone and you sighed- maybe you'll just ask him tomorrow-

"is something the matter?"

he didn't have to be that observant. you straightened. "nothing. just wanted to ask you something related to the book- but it can wait."

"you can ask me, y/n."

"you seem busy and tired, though..." your voice faltered when he shot you with a challenging look.

"never too busy for your weird questions."

"oh," you laughed a little and when he set his phone aside to focus on you, you stifled a satisfactory smile. "okay, so remember what i told you last time? the cop who's also a criminal, he's targeting the main character- the detective now. he finally baits her into entering the abandoned warehouse where she thought she would find some druggies."

"yes, and the warehouse doesn't have much space to run because of the abundance of shelves so when she's looking around, she keeps thinking she's hearing something- which is actually the criminal riling her up and waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike."

"yes," you smiled. "now, he's going to attack, and another unfortunate cop who accompanied our detective is going to get killed by him while trying to protect the detective. so that gets the detective all messed up in her head and she's lost her gun but there's a dagger lying on the floor- remember the dagger i showed you for reference?"

yunho nodded and you continued. "the detective aims to hurt the criminal, not kill, but the lines must be blurred so when she is questioned about her motives, she wonders if she actually intended to kill the man."

"because there's the fact that the criminal is her colleague and that could have worsened her anger. she might have actually wanted to kill him," yunho recalls.

"exactly," you shift in your position so your legs are tucked under you. "now... where would the detective stab him? self defense, anger, confusion, all these elements."

yunho hummed in thought, his eyes running all over your body. something you had noticed that whenever he answered one of your questions, he would envision them on you. that might have made you a flustered mess in the beginning when his eyes would fixate on a spot on your body but it didn't really bother you anymore- you supposed as a surgeon, he got lost in vivid imagination or something.

"there's quite a few ways we could achieve that, but i think if you can narrow it down, it might help."

"somewhere near the heart? throat? something that would disarm the criminal immediately," you said.

yunho nodded slowly, his eyes fixated on your neck now and you subconciously adjusted your shirt. he finally met your eyes. "i think this spot might do the trick."

yunho fisted his hand but outstretched the index finger. "suppose this is the tip of your dagger, right? you would want to stab right here," he turned his hand to touch the space between his collarbones. "this spot is tricky because for males and females, it's not the same."

"oh?" you touched that same spot on yourself. "how so?"

"males usually have a thicker clavicle," yunho explained, stretching the collar of his shirt to expose his collarbones. "the gap between the two may be wider but it's definitely easier to stab a man here than a woman."

you touched your own collarbones for reference in confusion and when yunho had enough of your struggling, he scooted closer and touched the space between your collarbones with his finger. "this part. v-shaped, right? it's a bit straighter for men. so if your criminal was a woman, i'd have you stab them... right here," yunho trailed his finger up and dug it in that spot. you nodded. "the clavicle is a bit narrower in females too," he trailed his finger along your collarbones. "and positioned at a more diagonal angle-"

he didn't realise when he started rambling but when he met your eyes, he found them wider than usual and your lips parted, and only then did he realise the proximity between you two. you gulped and he felt that movement on his finger still situated on your skin and his own lips parted in surprise, his mind going black when your gaze fell down there.

and if that damned phone hadn't buzzed repeatedly, he would have done something about you. he definitely would have, ignoring all his strict rules, because there was no way you didn't feel a certain way about him. he was sure you did, especially now. especially when he drew back to check his phone and heard you let out a deep breath. you had been holding your breath all this time.

"i, uh... i have to take this call," he pursed his lips.

"of course," you nodded.

"i hope that cleared your confusion?" yunho dared to ask and when you stifled a smirk, he got his answer.

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

[bonus scene that takes place after the big revelation]

it's been a long time since you woke up feeling like there was a weight on your chest, unable to breathe properly, hair matted to your face and your head spinning.

a nightmare. no-

a memory.

you checked the time- it was almost 4. you shook your head- maybe you should have pushed yourself to stay awake until you passed out so you could have a dreamless sleep. you always slept better when you were tired- not the healthiest habit, but that was how you overcame your sleeping struggles as a teen when your father passed away.

would you have to do this all over again?

you managed to walk to the toilet to wash your face, staring at the sink for the longest time and letting the water run through your hands as if it could wash away the weight of what you had done before finally snapping out of it and turning the tap off, exiting the toilet to go to the kitchen. you took a deep breath and sat yourself on a stool in the kitchen, taking small sips from your glass.

you could not go back to sleep now. not anytime soon.

you briefly wondered when yunho got home- was he home yet? lately, you had been going to sleep at odd times so you didn't run into him much, but you couldn't sleep for long- you would always wake up, just like you did tonight. the nightmares were plaguing your rest hours-

the glass slipped from your hand and crashed on the floor loudly, making you squeal a little. you winced at how loud it sounded in the dead hours of the night and you tried to find a spot on the floor that was not covered with shards- how exactly were you going to put your feet on the floor with all the glass around you-

"y/n? is everything okay?"

you sighed internally. "did i wake you up? i'm sorry, the glass just slipped."

yunho turned on a light and surveyed the mess. "stay right there, okay? don't move- i'll get the broom."

you nodded and waited until he started cleaning the shards from around you, making sure he got everything and then running to your room quickly to get your slippers. you thanked him, taking the broom and dustpan from him this time, spotting a tiny shard at the other end of the kitchen.

"were you asleep? did i wake you up?"

"i got home like, an hour ago," yunho said. "was just scrolling a bit. are you okay, though? you look pale."

"yeah, i'm okay," you put the broom in a corner and washed your hands. when you dried them and turned, you noticed yunho watching you intently. "what?"

"did you have a nightmare or something?"

he always knew. somehow, he always saw through you.

"is it that obvious?" you let out a short laugh. "do i look like a mess?"

"i mean..." yunho stifled a smile. "you usually do look like a hot mess..."

"lovely to hear that," you nodded and he grinned, stepping forward and encasing you in his arms as he peered down at you.

"won't you talk to me about it?"

"what's there to talk about?" you cocked your head and yunho's heart sank a little at the way your eyes went blank. "i killed a man, yunho. again. of course i will have to live with the consequences now."

yunho licked his dry lips and he knew you had zoned out at the way your gaze was fixated on his face. "can i ask you something?"

it took you a moment to come back to your senses and nod. yunho took a deep breath. "do you regret killing the man who almost killed your father?"

"everything went wrong after i did that-"

"but if you could go back in time, would you change that?" yunho asked.

"no." you were sure you would make the same decision. "because if i had not done that, he would have killed all of us."

"so... do you regret killing the man from a few days ago?"

"not at all," your response was quick. "he was going to kill you. i would have done the same, no matter who it was."

yunho brought his hand to your cheek and caressed it, his eyes full of love. you continued, "but that doesn't change the fact that i have killed people."

"i know," yunho said. "you will have to live with that for the rest of your life. it won't get easier, it will always hang like a noose over your head. but if you keep all of this to yourself... it will only get harder, y/n."

"i just... i don't know what to do," you exhaled a deep breath, looking away. "i feel so helpless. you've done so much to help me, hell, you almost took the blame for it, but still..."

"all these feelings are normal," yunho took your hand and started guiding you to the couch in the living room. you both settled down close to each other with yunho's hand on your shoulder, his thumb caressing your neck. "but if it's troubling you to the point of nightmares... why didn't you tell me earlier, y/n? if there's anyone who can relate to you..."

"it's you, i know," you smiled a little. "and i'm okay, for the most part, but for a while that night, i really thought it was all over, and that scared me so much, yunho."

"it's okay-"

"it's not the remorse that's eating me up, see?" you let out a short laugh. "it's... the fact that it's not the remorse eating me up but my selfishness when i was scared that you were going to take the blame and i would have to pick up the pieces of what was left all by myself. that your friends would hate me for the rest of our lives. that you would rot away in prison, like my father did, and i would never get to touch you again. it's wrong, isn't it? that this is the product of my nightmares and i don't need to sleep to feel this? does this make me a monster, yunho?"

if yunho could tell you how he felt at that moment, perhaps you would cower away, but he just had to ask you something. "do you still think you're the monster when i'm right in front of you?"

you looked at his unbelievably soft gaze and furrowed, somewhat confused brows. the dim lights from the kitchen softened half of his face, but even the shadows on his face didn't change who he was. you found his hand on your neck and held it, pressing your lips against his palm.

"i have killed more people than i can count, y/n," yunho continued, his voice pained. "but if that means that the world is somehow safer, i will continue down this road no matter how weary i get. does that make me a bad person or a good person? i realised long ago that i needed to stop categorising myself into one category, however... i sure as hell wouldn't call myself a good person," he let out a short laugh and you shook your head.

"if you weren't a good person, you wouldn't have tried to take the blame for me that night. and on that note... what were you thinking when you did that? without hesitation? can you imagine how wrong it could have gone if you got caught at that time-"

yunho leaned in and captured your lips in a deep kiss and thought it took you by surprise initially, you quickly melted in his grasp, your heart fluttering uncontrollably at the way he held and kissed you. when he drew back, he lingered for a few moments before looking at you.

"i would have done that anyway, no matter the consequences," he told you and you smiled sadly. "for you... i would do it again. so will you listen to me? will you let me help you?"

you nodded and he pulled you in for a hug. you scooted closer, almost sitting in his lap as you wrapped your arms around his waist, fisting the material of his sweatshirt.

"i know how hard it is to live with what we have done, no matter how we feel about it or think we feel about it," he caressed your head. "we think we have it all figured out. we think we'll be okay but really... it's still a human life, isn't it?"

you nodded- he was absolutely right.

"i harboured so much negativity in myself when my parents were killed. i thought if i would face their killer, i would not hesitate to kill him, but i did, and it cost me my sanity for a good while. if it weren't for hongjoong and mingi helping me figure out everything that was going on... i would have been so lost. i still think i am- the twisted, monstrous part in me is okay with what i do-"

"please don't call yourself a monster," you whispered. "you're anything but."

yunho embraced you tighter. "thank you for believing in me, but you should also tell yourself that."

and that's when it all made sense, what yunho was trying to tell you. it wasn't okay, it probably never will be, and it never should be. that's what you have to live with, and that's what will ultimately differentiate you from the actual monsters in this world.

"how do i convince myself i'm not the same as them?"

"that's what i'm here for," yunho laughed and you joined, drawing away from him. "but actually... i have a suggestion for you."

and that's how he told you all about mingi, the psychiatrist and the therapist who would never judge you no matter how dark your deepest thoughts and desires were. the person who would be able to understand your situation better than anyone else in this world since he was also a part of what yunho did. and most importantly, the person who wouldn't convince you to be someone you weren't. someone who wouldn't put you high on a pedestal or push you to your lowest. you adored the look on yunho's face when he told you all about his friend and you thought that mingi must be an admirable person if yunho believed in him so much.

and that night, he made a vow to you- he would always be there for you. he would be there to help you with the nightmares because he wished someone was there for him too. he would make sure you get proper sleep, and how couldn't you, if you were in his arms, safe and secure? how couldn't you, if you were showered in kisses before you fell asleep? how couldn't you, if you were enveloped in his scent that felt like home now?

the nightmares wouldn't easily stop but at least you wouldn't feel alone now, and that was all that mattered.

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

[something romantic but unhinged bc man now that i'm writing guerrilla again i wish i made it even longer LMAO]

[mdni!] [and do not interact if you're not comfortable with dark themes]

"yunho, what if your dark fantasies take over while we're having a moment and you kill me or something?"

yunho almost choked on the last sips of hot chocolate you had made him and he put the cup down on the table before shutting his eyes, inhaling and then opening them to glare at you.

"what stupid book are you reading now, babe?"

you pursed your lips in guilty admission. "you don't need to know that."

it had been a good few months into your relationship with yunho now, and he knew to expect odd questions like these way before that. when you first moved in, the questions had been related to your crime fiction wip but now that you were comfortable with him...

too comfortable, he thought. you couldn't ask something like this while you were seated so casually, defenceless across the couch with your legs in his lap while you used your tablet probably to edit your current draft.

"but do you think it happens? do you have moments like those when you... you know."

"when i what?" yunho smirked. he could play this game.

you immediately knew the mood had changed when his eyes glinted playfully. one thing about yunho was that no matter how strange or ridiculous your questions were, he would always answer.

"i won't judge you, i promise," you laughed a little. "but do you ever want to? or do you think others do?"

"words. i need you to say it out loud," yunho sat back cockily while his hand rested on your thigh, squeezing it almost suggestively.

and you knew it could only go one way from here. one thing about yunho was that no matter how strange or ridiculous your questions were, he would always answer-

practically. whenever he could, practically.

"if you're about to see if you feel like killing me right now, no thanks. and for your information, i can fight back."

"can you?" yunho scoffed.

"i've killed two men."

yunho laughed mockingly at that. "two. such a cute number."

your heart sank at that but you tried to lighten the situation. "okay, yeah, i should probably stop reading stupid books-"

"do you want me to check and see, though?" yunho cocked his head dangerously, removing his hand from your thigh only to hold your hand and pull you closer.

"geez, you really take answering my questions so seriously," you teased. of course he would never hurt you, but the thought of where this could lead to excited you in too many ways and you internally slapped yourself. "i guess i'll find the answer if i live to tell the tale?"

yunho pulled you properly in his lap, one hand stationed across your legs to keep you close to him while the other hand stayed on your neck, his thumb caresseing your adam's apple. you loved putting yunho in this headspace, when his gaze darkened as he thought about all the ways he would mess with you.

"do you know how easy it is to take someone's life if you press this wrong?" yunho pushed your adam's apple with his thumb just a fraction. "even just a little pressure can make it difficult to breathe."

you twisted away from him to put your tablet away and then put your own hand on his neck to feel his adam's apple. you pressed it a little just like he had demonstrated and nodded in understanding.

"it's ironic then, isn't it?" yunho looked up at you. "that some of the most sensitive spots on a human are around there?"

before you could ask him to elaborate, he pulled you closer to kiss you on the side of your neck and you gasped when you realised where this was going. he didn't stop there, though, no. he flipped you effortlessly so your back was flat on the couch and he was on top of you. before you could process anything, he was back to peppering kisses along your neck, planting a rather long one right on your adam's apple before finding your sweet spot and continuing to kiss and suck there.

your back arched in pleasure when one of his hands went to hold your waist but found your bare skin instead, your shirt having ridden up. you squirmed under him, one hand at the nape of his neck. when he was satisfied after earning a loud moan from you, he drew back to admire the bruising mark on your neck.

and then he grinned at your breathless form.

"that was so out of the blue," you laughed.

"i'm nowhere near done though," yunho kissed your temple, trailing his lips down along the angles of your face and then kissing your jaw sweetly. you brought your limp arm up to fist his shirt and crash your lips on his because he should stop teasing you already. yunho smiled into the kiss before responding enthusiastically and you tasted chocolate on his lips which made you hum in satisfaction.

yunho took that as his cue to escalate things further. while he kissed you, he let his hand travel down your body until it reached the waistband of your shorts. he broke the kiss to look at you and make sure you were okay and when you nodded, he pulled them down a bit to slide his hand down and he looked at you in surprise.

"you're soaking wet," he laughed a little. "tell me, which part turned you on?"

you slapped his hand and he laughed louder, pecking your lips and drawing away to lock eyes with you just in time to see your reaction when he slid a finger along your slit. he captured your gasp in another kiss and soon, things got all heated up. the sound of your moans were swallowed in his kisses as he slid two fingers knuckle-deep inside you and started thrusting them, curling them inside to earn loud gasps from you.

"so responsive," he praised, trailing kisses down your neck again and finding another spot to suck at. it was good that you mostly stayed at home, you thought. he had a thing with marking you and you could only imagine how much a hassle it would have been to cover it on a daily basis.

"yunho," you gasped when his thumb started circling your clit. it hadn't even been that long that you started getting more physical but he sure knew all your buttons. "please."

"please what?" he breathed against your adam's apple, reminding you once again how this all started.

"i'm so close," you moaned.

"already?" he tsk-ed, kissing the protruding spot on your neck. "how badly do you want it?"

you cupped his face and kissed him in answer, your tongues colliding in the passionate makeout which only sent another wave of arousal through your body and you shivered against him. he knew you were close so he drew apart and made you rest your head against the cushion again.

"you asked me about my dark fantasies, right?" yunho almost whispered and you nodded, anticipating what was next. "not the darkest fantasy, but a good start- choking."

you frowned- choking was pretty common... no?

"there's a very subtle difference in choking for pain and choking for pleasure," yunho explained, his hand around your neck now, his other hand still rubbing your clit in circles, his fingers pumping inside you slowly. "and sure, choking is common, but sweetheart..."

yunho pressed the sides of your throat for a second experimentally and you gasped. "feel that? see how everything you feel inside you becomes heightened but your senses grow numb?"

"yeah," you breathed, squirming under him- you were almost there. "pleasure."

"and if i pressed like this," he said, gently squeezing from the front- so gently that you almost didn't feel anything. "it would be to kill you. how faint is the line between pain and pleasure, y/n?"

you didn't realise when yunho sped up his fingers thrusting inside you but you were almost out of breath now and when he flicked your clit and provided the friction it needed to get over the edge, right when you could feel your orgasm beginning to wash over you, he leaned in to whisper in your ear-

"do you think i have dark fantasies like that?"

and you almost wouldn't have heard him because he pressed the sides of your throat, choking you right as your orgasm washed over you and your vision darkened, your back arching against him. everything was so heightened- yunho on top of you, his fingers inside you, his hand palming your clit, the other hand squeezing your throat like a choker necklace, his lips on your temple in a kiss, his thighs caging you, but the most heightened of all-

his question, the itch in your brain yet to be scratched. it clouded your thoughts as you took deep breaths to recover from the orgasm, as he kissed you everywhere and drew back to clean his fingers with tissues.

"so..." you breathed. "you won't be answering that, will you?"

he only smirked. "answering it would kill all the fun."

#deleted scene plus two bonus scenes who dis #and the smut that never made it in guerrilla LMAO #might have went overboard but who cares i needed to get this out anyway to move on #fic: guerrilla #yunho x reader #yunho fluff #yunho smut #ateez fluff #ateez x reader #ateez smut #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines

[dirtytomatoedwrites]

Preludes and Nocturnes - Part 1

Paring: Rafe Cameron x InnocentPogue!reader

Summary: Rafe discovers your hidden talent and now he has seen it, you have his full attention.

Warnings:  18+ Smut. Dark!Rafe. Virgin!Reader, Romance, Angst, Dub-Con, Fingering, squirting.  Not Proof-Read so mistakes are my own.

Word Count: 9k words (Yo it took me months to write but I finally did it) 

Author Note: Hello lovelies! So this is an original idea I’ve had for a while now... and this is the longest fanfic I’ve ever written for a character. Who did I write this tale about Rafe motherfucking Cameron of course. HA!  I may do a part 2 but we’ll see based on the response it gets.  Love you all and thanks for reading and listening - there’s music in there too so if you can listen to the tracks as you read it’ll heighten the experience. 🫶 Enjoy!

Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Please don’t steal or copy bits of my writing or any writing from other writers cause karma will get ya.  

Rose, elegant and poised as ever, fiddled with Ward's bowtie. It was a futile attempt to straighten it, and you wondered if the Kooks knew how ridiculous they looked, their privileged lives spent fussing over trivial things.

"Do you play?" Ward's voice was casual, but his eyes betrayed a glimmer of interest. He had seen you eyeing the piano in their opulent living room before, and it was clear he suspected you had a musical inclination.

"A little," you replied, shrugging nonchalantly. You didn't want to give too much away. The Kooks had a tendency to pry, and you had learned the hard way that it was better to keep your guard up.

The Camerons were pleasant enough, but like the other Kooks on Figure Eight, they didn't really care about the Pogues. You had grown up being told that Pogues were different from Kooks, but as you got older, you realized it was more complicated than that. The Kooks were narrow-minded, lacking empathy and understanding. They saw the Pogues as nothing more than servants, there to cater to their every whim. It was a toxic dynamic and one that you had learned to navigate with caution.

The key to survival on the Outer Banks was invisibility. You had learned that early on. The less you revealed about yourself, the safer you were. So you didn't tell Ward that your father had started teaching you piano before you could even walk. You didn't tell him that music was your escape, your solace, your everything.

"Well, a bit of something is better than nothing," Ward chuckled, his eyes flickering back to you. "I bought it thinking it would be nice to have music in the house that wasn't rap or pop, but you know how kids are." He chuckled again. "No one seems interested in learning how to play it. If you want to try it out, our door is always open."

The Kooks were the quintessential chameleons, expertly donning the cloak of benevolence and charity. But behind the facade lay their self-centered motives, concealed in plain sight. In their company, you had to be just as duplicitous as them, your true self lost in a sea of artifice. So you donned your own mask of deceit, feigning a grin while burying your true feelings behind a veneer of politeness.

As the grandfather clock in the hallway struck six, Rose and Mr. Cameron stepped into the warm North Carolina evening, dressed to the nines for their elegant black-tie affair. You were left behind in the kitchen with Wheezie, chatting aimlessly about everything and nothing. A comfortable silence settled between you.

"Want to watch a movie, Wheezie?" you asked, but you already knew the answer.

"Maybe next time? I'm having a Stranger Things watch party with my friends. We're on season three, actually," she replied as she pulled out her phone and began texting.

"Oh, that's cool. Sure, let me know when you're hungry and we'll order in."

A few minutes later, you were left alone in the kitchen, grappling with the void of the next five hours stretching before you. Your gaze was inexorably drawn to the open double doors of the living room, and a force beyond your control tugged at your heartstrings.

There, in the corner of the Camerons' living room, stood a magnificent black Steinway & Sons piano. A work of art that you had only seen in fleeting glimpses on the internet, played by virtuosos with mastery beyond compare.

The Camerons' piano was an exquisite piece. Valued upwards of forty thousand dollars, it was a show-stopper that begged to be played in a prestigious concert hall. And yet there it sat in their living room, untouched and unloved.

With a fluttering heart, you approached the baby grand piano, drawn by an unconscious force beyond your control. As you lifted the fallboard, a heady scent of wax and mahogany wafted into your nostrils, creating a longing you could barely contain. Your fingertips brushed against the smooth, pristine ivory keys, unable to resist the urge to touch. As you pressed down on one, a crystalline note filled the air, flawless and true. Before you could even think, you were seated on the bench.

Back straight and feet planted firmly on the floor, you thought about all the classical pieces you had practiced over the years and loved to play. How each piece would sound hollow on your cheap, antiquated piano in your small family home. Music was your first love, and you longed for the day to play on stage accompanied by the New York Symphony Orchestra.

Closing your eyes, you allowed your mind to wander, imagining a sea of faces, a packed audience hanging on your every note. In your mind's eye, you saw your dad sitting in the front row, his gaze filled with pride and love. The thought of his reaction, a validation of all his sacrifices over the years, filled you with purpose.

Driven by your distant dream, you let your fingers glide across the keys, effortlessly weaving a tapestry of sound that flooded the Camerons' living room with music.

With meticulous attention, you listened closely to the dynamics of the piece. You noticed the way the Steinway amplified the subtlest variations in volume, imbuing the composition with a melancholic mood. Your fingers moved with practiced ease, executing intricate runs and arpeggios with fluid grace.

Enraptured by the music, you let the notes wash over you. Every facial expression was a reflection of the emotional journey unfolding before you. As the piece reached its crescendo, your fingers moved faster, striking the keys with greater force, a physical manifestation of your emotions. Your hands flowed in flawless harmony with the rhythm, pouring your soul into the music. And with the final notes, you laughed breathlessly, basking in the afterglow of your musical outpouring.

But your blissful moment was cruelly interrupted as you suddenly sensed you weren’t alone. Your eyes snapped open, and a cold wave of fear washed over you.

“Shit! I am so sorry,” you stammered, your voice trailing off in a rush of apologies as you gingerly lowered the piano fallboard.

“You know,” Rafe’s words were laced with honey, each syllable slow and sweet, yet there was no mistaking the menacing undertone to them. “We don’t take kindly to people touching our things,” he drawled, his intense gaze locked onto yours, a warning glimmer lurking within his dark eyes.

“I… I had permission from your dad,” you insisted, your words barely audible above a whisper as you tried to defend your actions.

His response was a dismissive chuckle. The atmosphere was taut with tension as he nonchalantly propped his golf bag against the wall. Leisurely slow, he sauntered over to you, his hands casually tucked away in his pockets.

“What were you playing anyway?” he inquired, his tone deceptively relaxed.

“You mean the name of the piece?” you swallowed hard, fear palpable. “It’s called Nocturne in C-sharp Minor.”

The tall blonde squinted at you, and you could not decipher his expression. Wanting to avoid further irritation, you slowly rose from the piano bench and dusted it off.

“What kinda name is that?”

“I… I…” you stammered, blood surging in your ears from fear as Rafe suddenly leaned in and lifted the fallboard. He scanned the keys, perhaps checking for any scratches. You took a deep breath. The scent of his expensive cologne and freshly mown grass overwhelmed your senses.

“I don’t know. It worked for Chopin, I guess.” You said quietly.

“Chopin…” he said with his lip jutted.

“He’s the composer. He wrote it and-”

“I know Chopin,” Rafe interrupted, his eyes suddenly locked on you. Up close, you could not deny that they were a striking shade of blue, if not for the death glare he gave you. “Chopin, Beethoven, Einaudi, Bach…” He backed away and sat in a nearby chair. “Brahms… I’ve been to enough of those long-ass concerts to at least know their names.”

You felt a confusing mix of awe and jealousy as you listened to Rafe’s words. The pit in your stomach proved this. You had never been to a proper symphony concert, and the school concerts you had attended were barely amateur. The thought of your dad’s broken promise to take you to one was a constant source of frustration. However, Rafe’s casual disdain for the very concerts he was lucky enough to attend seemed to be a new addition.

“Well… I’m not getting paid to mess around on your piano,” you said with a wry smile, as you tried to mask your emotions.

“You’re right. You’re not,” Rafe retorted while he twisted the gold signet ring around his index finger with his thumb. Head tilted to the side, his eyes raked over every inch of you, from your hair, your oversized sweatshirt and jeans to your worn knockoff Converses. You felt self-conscious under his intense scrutiny. He made you want to crawl into a hole and hide.

“I… I should check on Wheezie,” you whispered, eager to escape the tension in the room.

“Why?” Rafe asked, halting his twirling of the signet ring. His face appeared bemused until a sly grin tugged at his lips. “Weeze is a big girl, right? Might as well… play Chopin while she’s doing her own thing…”

As you babysat for the Camerons, you occasionally spotted Rafe in the vicinity. Sometimes, he was accompanied by a striking beauty, while other times he hung out with his friends. Even when he was alone, his body language was a clear warning: "Keep your distance." His piercing gaze made you feel diminutive and unimportant, as if any attempts at interaction would be met with cold indifference. In his presence, you felt like you were navigating hostile terrain, just a misstep away from a precarious situation.

"Well?" he said, leaning back in his chair and tapping his lower lip with a finger. The gesture seemed to carry a message, but what message you weren't sure. What was certain was that his expression of amusement made it evident that the outcome was secondary—he was simply enjoying watching you squirm.

Your tongue darted out to moisten your parched lips, while anxiety twisted in your gut as you stared nervously at the grand Steinway piano and Rafe. The weight of his words lingered in the air, causing you to hesitate and consider the potential consequences of your answer.

Every which way you looked at it, you were fucked.

Rafe was bound to tell his parents, and you were sure enough about to lose your job once they found out. Despite Mr. Cameron's outward kindness and willingness to accommodate, you knew very well that playing their piano without supervision was not within the bounds of your permission. And he certainly would not appreciate you lying about it either.

Still, you were determined to make the most out of a shitty situation. You weren't trying to prove anything to Rafe, but if this was going to be your last time playing a Steinway, you would go out in style.

You had chosen a haunting, evocative melody,  a tale of lost love and longing. The notes rang out, clear and true, as your fingers danced over the keys. 

Closing your eyes and shutting out the world and Rafe, you allowed the music to flow from your fingertips, guided by instinct and emotion. Your touch was delicate yet confident, breathing life into the haunting melody.

After the last notes of the piece hung in the air like a delicate mist. You held your breath, waiting for some kind of response from Rafe, but all you got was a deafening silence. The room felt like it was closing in on you, and you couldn't help but cast a quick glance in his direction.

Rafe's eyes bored into yours with an intensity that made your heart stop. You shifted uncomfortably, feeling exposed under his scrutinizing gaze. When you finally lowered the fallboard, the tension was so thick you could practically cut it with a knife.

"I should check on Wheezie," you whispered, breaking the silence.

Rafe made no reply, and you took that as permission to leave. When you returned downstairs a half hour later, Rafe was nowhere to be seen and you sighed in relief.

In the best-case scenario, Rafe would keep your little transgression to himself. In the worst-case scenario, you could explain to Mr. Cameron that curiosity got the better of you and seek his forgiveness. Either way, you vowed never to touch their piano again.

"What's on your setlist today, piano girl?" Rafe's voice caused your heart to skip a beat, and you nearly spewed out the orange juice pooling in your mouth. A mere week had passed since your previous babysitting job at the illustrious Cameron residence. Yet here you were once again, feeling a pang of anxiety at the mere sight of him. You had desperately hoped to avoid any interaction with Rafe for the remainder of your shift, but fate had other plans in store.

There he was, sauntering into the kitchen, sporting an obnoxiously bright salmon polo shirt that clashed horribly with his teal shorts, and finished with a backwards baseball cap. Despite his frat boy appearance, you couldn't help but admit that he looked undeniably handsome. The realization hit you like a brick and left you feeling inexplicably uneasy.

"Excuse me?" you sputtered, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

Rafe's gaze shifted towards the living room, where the Steinway was waiting behind closed doors.

"No, I don't think it's a good idea," you said, your voice trailing off as you watched Rafe roll his eyes.

"Whatever," he drawled with a dismissive flick of his wrist, exuding an air of nonchalant superiority as he strode out of the kitchen.

You parroted his words under your breath, feeling frustration boil inside you. Despite his insufferable demeanor, you chose to let it slide. After all, you needed this job, and with a week of smooth sailing under your belt, you suspected that Rafe had kept your little piano incident under wraps. You weren't about to jeopardize your livelihood over a petty disagreement with Rafe Cameron of all people.

Just as you were considering taking refuge in the kitchen to avoid Rafe, the sound of a key being struck on the Steinway echoed through the kitchen, beckoning you towards it.

You stepped into the living room, a bundle of nerves and anticipation, only to find Rafe sprawled in the same chair as before. The piano's fallboard was already raised. Its ebony and ivory keys gleamed in the warm light of the setting sun. Rafe's piercing gaze locked onto yours, then flicked towards the piano.

"Do you want me to play something?" you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Rafe shrugged, looking uninterested. "Do you want to?" he asked, his voice dripping with boredom.

"I don't mind, I guess," you replied, chewing your bottom lip.

If you were to be completely honest with yourself, you were desperate for another chance to play the Steinway. There was a piece that you couldn't get out of your head, and you knew it would sound magnificent on it. You did not need to be asked twice. But at the same time, you were no fool.

You had heard whispers about the "Kook King." Infamous for settling disputes with his fists, not for acts of kindness. You had no idea what was taking place here or why Rafe was suddenly allowing you to play the Camerons' prized possession. But despite your internal warning bells that this could be a trap, you put your glass of orange juice on the floor next to the bench. Consequences be damned.

Taking a confident breath, you aimed to kill.

As you hit the final notes of the composition, the silence was shattered by Rafe's ragged breaths. Your eyes locked onto his, and you saw a flicker of something in his gaze that was gone as quickly as it appeared.

"I've been working on that one for a while," you said, trying to sound nonchalant despite his stare. "I know it's not perfect, but I-"

"No, it's good," Rafe interjected with a croak. "You're good."

His words validated your talent, and a rush of excitement surged through you, causing a grin to spread across your face as you basked in his praise. But the moment was short-lived as Rafe pulled out his phone and started scrolling, his demeanor shifting from impressed to cold indifference. Without warning, he abruptly rose from his seat, an air of superiority emanating from his towering frame.

"Tell Rose I'm having dinner at Top's," he drawled, his voice dripping with aloofness as he looked down his nose at you.

"Sure, okay," you stammered, still reeling from his sudden change in behavior.

Without another glance in your direction, he strode out of the room, leaving you to wonder what the hell just happened.

It became routine. A ritual. Embedded in your weekly visits to the Cameron residence.

Each time you babysat Wheezie, the air would fill with the soothing sound of classical music, as you took your place at the Steinway and brought the keys to life. Rafe, either in the background or seated nearby, listened intently. His brooding demeanor was a stark contrast to the beauty of the music.

As the weeks went by, playing the Steinway became a treasured routine, and it wasn't just the music that captivated you. With every note played, the invisible barrier between you and Rafe seemed to thin. Despite his reserved exterior, there was a subtle shift in the room when he was around, a magnetic pull that drew you closer to him until one evening, a simple question from him sparked a conversation that would change everything.

"Where did you even learn to play like that?" Rafe asked as the sun cast its final rays of light into the opulent living room, painting the space with a breathtaking array of orange, pink, and purple hues.

You had just finished playing a piece by Bach. The air was still thick with the lingering notes of the Prelude as you closed the Steinway lid.

"There's barely electricity on the cut. Far less for piano classes, and even if there was, you can't—you can't teach this, know what I mean? Well, not the way you play it anyway." His tone shifted, taking on a new quality of—dare you think it?—admiration. You couldn't help but wonder if the beer he was drinking had anything to do with his slip of the tongue and the emotions that seemed to seep through in his words.

You cast your eyes to find Rafe leaning forward in his chair, said beer bottle in hand, his hair falling into his face and his eyes laser-focused on you. There was an intensity in his eyes that made you feel like you were being seen, truly seen, by him. But as much as you were flattered by his attention, something lurking in the depths of his gaze made you feel uneasy, and you weren't entirely sure why. You brushed the stray thought aside.

"My dad taught me." You said with pride in your voice. "Did you know they used to have jazz nights at the Wreck?" You turned your body towards Rafe, eager to share this piece of history. "Back then, it wasn't called the Wreck. Anyway, my dad used to play there every night from seven until midnight until the Carreras took over. Now he works on the big oil rig in Burnsville."

"Does he still play?" Rafe asked.

You hesitated for a moment, realizing you were oversharing with Rafe Cameron of all people. But something about his presence made you feel comfortable enough to continue. "No, after my mom left," you trailed off, suddenly feeling vulnerable. "He just gave up on music altogether."

Rafe looked down, his expression unreadable.

"I guess I'm trying to keep the tradition alive, in my own way. It's not jazz, but he approves." You smiled softly. "Anyway, what about you?"

Arresting blue eyes flicked up at yours, and your stomach flipped.

"What about me?" he asked, his voice low and husky, dripping with curiosity and challenge. He leaned back in his chair, the rattan creaking beneath him. He lazily ran a hand through his blonde hair, revealing his chiselled features. You weren't sure why, but the gesture felt calculated. As though it was meant to entice you. And yet you couldn't help but feel a flutter in your chest as you drank in the sight of him.

"No offense, but you don't look like the type to be into..." you waved your hand towards the piano, trying to deflect his gaze and lighten the mood.

"Yeah? What do I look like I'm into?" Rafe purred seductively, his tongue swiping his top lip. His eyes fixed on you. You didn't miss his tone. The double entendre just beneath the surface, if you were bold enough to respond to it. You were sure the alcohol running through his veins had something to do with his sudden flirty behavior. Tomorrow, he'd probably forget the whole thing. But it still didn't stop the butterflies from dancing in your stomach.

"I...I..."

"Go on, don't be shy," Rafe coaxed, his eyes dark and intense, almost daring you to take the bait.

"I don't know," you breathed out a laugh, suddenly feeling flustered and self-conscious.

"Yeah, you do." Rafe said, his tone low and teasing. "Saying I don't look like the type means you have a type in your head. So, let's hear it. What kind of man do you think I am, Y/N?"

You were certain this was not about music anymore, and you felt way out of your element. What were you supposed to say about that? You decided to keep the conversation neutral and err on the side of caution.

"Okay," you nodded as you shifted on the bench. "You look like the type to be interested in other types of music, you know like rap or hip-hop, rock— even country and western, anything but this."

Rafe looked away with a chuckle, a deep rumble that made your skin tingle. He nodded slowly, pondering your words.

"Does that sound bad? I know it sounds awful. I'm sorry." You cringed.

"Nah, it's pretty tame actually... innocent even..." Rafe murmured more to himself than to you. You shivered as his piercing blue gaze met yours, then slowly traveled down to your lips, neck, and every inch of your oversized t-shirt and cardigan to your jeans-covered body.

He cleared his throat, his voice low as he spoke. "And you're not wrong. Classical music was my mom's thing. She loved it." He said taking a swig of his beer.

"Oh," you breathed out, taken aback by the unexpected answer. Suddenly, the pieces of the puzzle started to fall into place. Why Rafe was always so engrossed in the music each time you played. The wistful expression that crossed his face whenever he heard familiar pieces of music. It was like a window into his soul, a glimpse into a hidden part of him that he kept from the world. And just as you pieced together your thoughts, Rafe spoke, confirming your suspicions.

"We used to go to the mainland to see 'The Four Seasons' or 'Carmen' or some other shit like that. I don't know, it reminds me of her, I guess. Takes me back to happier times." Rafe shrugged, a hint of sadness in his eyes as he sipped his beer.

"I'm sorry..." you whispered.

"Nah, don't be. She was sick for a long time, and now she's... Anyway, It's all good now." Rafe replied with a forced nonchalance, a fragile façade attempting to conceal his true emotions.

"So, you listen to classical music for nostalgia..." you whispered, your voice tinged with a touch of melancholy.

“I guess you could say that,” Rafe said thoughtfully, tilting his head from side to side as he considered your words. He scrunched up his face, eyebrows drawn together as if he had tasted something bitter. “But I'm not a classical music aficionado or anything. It’s not like I’m requesting it in the club. Can you imagine that shit? Right after 21 Savage fuckin’ Mozart on blast. I’d get jumped.”

"I don’t know, you might start a trend," you smiled.

“Sounds like you want me to get jumped”

You outright laughed at that one. “Well, it depends, do you deserve it?”

“Oof” Rafe countered, clutching his chest faux wounded. “That was good.”

You shrugged with a smile, feeling an unexpected kinship with Rafe of all people. Here was this tough, brooding guy who, beneath the surface, was incredibly sentimental and even had a sense of humor. It was a sweet and surprising discovery.

"What about you? Why do you play?" He asked, his blue eyes roaming across your facial features slowly, curiously, when your laughter had died and all that was left was contented silence.

"Good question. Why do I play? Well, I guess for me... it's about the emotion," you replied, your fingers tracing the Steinway keys without pressing them. "Each note, each chord, each composition tells a story. It's like I'm a part of that story, and I get to bring it to life. You don’t need words you just… feel it.”

Rafe nodded, understanding. "I get it. You're the storyteller. The piano is your instrument channelin’ that shit.”

"Exactly!" you said, touching your nose and pointing to him with an earnest laugh.

"Exactly," Rafe repeated with a soft chuckle, his gaze fixated on you.

“Hey, how come I never see you at bonfires?” Rafe asked, a mischievous glint in his eye one sunny afternoon when Rose and Mr. Cameron went out for drinks with friends, leaving Wheezie in your care.

“Bonfires just aren’t my thing,” you replied with a shrug.

“What, no friends to hang out with?” he teased.

“I have plenty of friends!” you retorted, a hint of a smirk playing at your lips.

“Friends that I’ve never seen you with,” he pressed.

 “What do you mean ‘friends I’ve never seen you with’ are you stalking me around town?” 

“Maybe I am...” he shrugged a small devious smile curled his lips. “Whatever. Well, my friends and I clearly hang out when you’re not around,” you shot back, a playful smile lighting up your face.

“Sure you do,” he drawled, a chuckle rumbling in his chest.

Rafe leaned forward against the piano, the sun casting a warm glow on his handsome features. You couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he laughed, and how the muscles in his arms flexed under his t-shirt while he absentmindedly tapped his index finger on the piano lid.

“You know, there’s more to life than playing music,” Rafe said, his voice low and smooth, as he turned the words over with his tongue. His finger tapping the lid, became slower, more measured.

“Oh, I know that,” you replied, rolling your eyes. “I have plenty of other things going on.”

“Yeah? Like what?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Like studying,” you said, trying to keep a straight face as Rafe scoffed and rolled his eyes. “I’m actually quite serious about my grades.”

"I wouldn't expect anything less from a good girl," Rafe chuckled. Once again, his comment caught you off guard. Although you knew he wasn't mocking you, it still felt strange that he felt the need to mention what he perceived was good girl behavior. “Seriously though, you should have some real fun too. Do some shit you probably shouldn’t do. Life’s too short to be cooped up not living it.”

You shrugged, unsure of what to say. Rafe had a point, but you weren’t sure if bonfires were the kind of fun you were looking for. Still, there was something about the way he looked at you that made your heart skip a beat, and you couldn’t help but swallow nervously. As if reading your thoughts, Rafe leaned closer.

“You know, I could show you a good time if you want.” Rafe’s voice was low and husky as he leaned in close, his minty breath fanning your cheek. While he had flirted before, this time there was a sober earnestness to his words that made your heart race. But before you could even formulate a response, the front door's slam cut through the thick tension.

Rafe straightened himself, briefly glancing towards the hallway before fixing his gaze back on you, his jaw tightly clenched in irritation. With determined strides, he purposefully walked away, the sound of his long steps resonating down the corridor, while you unintentionally caught snippets of his familiar argument with Sarah.

It seemed Sarah had developed an interest in John B, a guy you had seen around town, but Rafe vehemently disapproved due to his “pogue” status. You couldn’t fathom why he held such strong opposition, especially considering that you, too, were a Pogue. Had he conveniently forgotten? Or did he consider you an exception?

As you closed the lid of the Steinway, an inescapable curiosity filled your mind about what set your relationship with Rafe apart. Maybe he only saw you as a friend rather than a romantic interest the way Sarah felt about John B.

Reluctant to admit it to yourself, the thought pierced through, leaving you with a confusing mixture of disappointment, anger, and self-annoyance for even entertaining the idea that Rafe could ever feel that way about you.

As Rafe persisted in berating his sister, you dismissed any contemplation of what might have happened between the two of you if she had arrived just a few minutes later.

“Hello?”

“I'm in here.” Rose’s voice, sharp as a razor’s edge, resonated through the foyer of the Camerons’ residence. As you entered the kitchen, you discovered her gingerly picking up the remnants of a shattered vase from the tiled floor. You offered to help her, but she brushed you off with a dismissive gesture.

“No need, honey. I wouldn’t want you getting hurt.” She said, smiling unconvincingly.

Mr. Cameron burst into the room a few seconds later. His dominating presence charged the atmosphere, his eyes glinting like ice. It was only when his eyes landed on you that his demeanour changed.

“Oh, Y/N. Thanks for coming on such short notice. We’ll only need you for two hours. Sarah should be back by then.” He smiled, though it did not reach his eyes.

“Uh, sure. Of course.” You replied. You scurried out of his path as he snatched a file and car keys from the kitchen table.

“I’ll be in the car.” He informed Rose tersely, eliciting a stiff nod from her.

Feeling Rose’s disquiet, you intervened to clear the shattered vase. “I can pick these up for you, Rose.” You said warmly.

“Really? Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.” You assured her with a nod.

“Thank you.” She murmured, her smile returning. “Wheeze is upstairs doing her homework. I’m sorry about all of this. Things are a bit crazy today.” She said, her grip on her bag and sunglasses tightening as if she were holding onto her sanity by a thread. And with that, she vanished, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the shattered pieces of the vase.

Having cleared the wreckage, you climbed the stairs to find Wheezie immersed in her studies in her room, her headphones firmly in place. You inquired if she needed anything or was okay, but she appeared blissfully unaware of the chaos that had unfolded. You marvelled at her ability to concentrate amidst the turmoil, yet you couldn’t dispel the nagging suspicion that the Camerons hid a dark secret beneath their façade of rich superiority. With a sigh, you left Wheezie to her schoolwork and descended the stairs as the sound of the living room door being opened roused your suspicions.

As you passed the living room, your heart sank at the sight of Rafe. He was sitting on his usual chair, swaying back and forth, lost in a jumble of incoherent words. His eyes were bloodshot and streaked with tears. You hurried towards him, your mind racing with worry and fear. You sat down on the floor in front of him, your heart pounding in your chest.

“What happened? Are you okay?”

He responded with a roar that shook you to your core. The words that spilled out of Rafe’s mouth were like knives, cutting deep into your soul. He berated himself with a ferocity that was frightening, how he was a failure in his father’s eyes, how he was nothing but a disappointment. You placed a comforting hand on his knee, giving it a gentle squeeze, trying to offer some solace amidst his torment.

His eyes flicked to your hand, then to your face, as if seeing you for the first time. Rafe’s jaw tightened, his eyes raw with emotions you couldn’t decipher. There was anger there, yes, but there was something else too – something deeper, more primal.

“Play something.” He suddenly demanded.

“I can- I can get someone for you. Do you want me to call your-”

“No. I don’t want that. I want you to play.” He almost sneered at you.

“Okay.” You whispered tentatively.

You made your way to the piano, your fingers trembling with anticipation. As you began to play, the haunting melody flowed from your fingertips.

As the tender notes from the piano enveloped you, the outside world ceased to exist. Within the protective cocoon of the Cameron's living room, you hoped your music might be a balm for Rafe’s pain. But this sanctuary of sound was violently shattered when an aggressive tug at your hair ripped you from your reverie.

Suddenly, Rafe was there, his fingers cruelly ensnared in your hair, exerting a force so savage it wrenched your head backward, choking off your breath and stilling the music in one brutal tug. The once harmonious room was now charged with an electrifying tension, your eyes captured and held hostage by the ferocity in his.

This was not the Rafe you knew.

The Rafe towering above you appeared utterly transformed. Unrecognizable in every way. Gone was the Rafe who had shared countless evenings filled with laughter and sharing stories. Gone was the anchor that made you feel connected and safe.

Instead, frustration etched itself onto his face like a battle scar, while his dilated pupils revealed an intensity you had never witnessed before, oscillating between your fear-stricken eyes.

His gaze dipped to your parted lips as you let out the breath you were holding, and before you could react, before you could appease him, Rafe captured your lips with his.

You froze. Paralyzed against Rafe's lips. Shock stole your breath away.

Time stopped in an instant as you grappled with the thought that this was a dream, a surreal nightmare. But that fragile notion shattered like glass as Rafe's movements became evident. His lips melded against yours like clay taking form. Hard and desperate, his kiss abruptly catapulted you back into the chilling reality that this was, without a doubt, happening.

Your instinct for survival surged as your fight-or-flight response kicked in. You attempted to push him away, but Rafe tightened his grip on your hair and yanked harder, forcing your submission, his tongue plunging into your mouth when you whined in protest.

The taste of alcohol on Rafe’s tongue was bitter and overwhelming. You tried to convince yourself that this was the reason behind Rafe's behaviour. Any moment now, he would realize his mistake, any moment he would let you go. But instead, Rafe's fingers sank into the hollow of your jaw, holding it open while his tongue explored the warm interior of your mouth.

You whimpered softly as his tongue twirled against yours with ferocity. Rafe adjusted his hand in your hair and gripped tighter, making you cry out as pain surged through your scalp and neck. The sound didn't deter him, as he forced your head back drinking from your mouth greedily.

Discordant notes rang out as you lashed out wildly, reaching for anything you could hold onto for balance. Your hands found Rafe's bicep and you dug your nails into his skin, trying to pull his hand away as he kissed you like a man possessed.

Your entire body was inflamed with sensations you had never experienced before as pleasure and pain bled into one. Your scalp ached yet your body felt hot. Your nipples were suddenly sensitive to your sweater's scraggly wool while you ached between your legs for something you had not experienced before. The whirlwind of sensations new and overwhelming within you made your eyes flutter shut on their own, your hands sliding up Rafe's wrist as you held on for balance.

Rafe's mouth worked over yours with an intensity so raw that your protests turned into breathless moans and frantic gasps as you succumbed to his kiss.  Your tongue tentatively meets his stroke for stroke.  Rafe growled in approval and you could feel him smile into the kiss, his tongue stoking the fire deep within you and just as quickly as it started, Rafe abruptly pulled away leaving you shaking and struggling for air.

Your heart raced within your chest as you abruptly pushed yourself off the piano bench, nearly causing it to tip over in your haste. Hand clutching your chest, you struggled to catch your breath, hastily wiping away tears that had unknowingly streamed down your cheeks. 

A fleeting glance at Rafe revealed his heavy breathing, his mouth agape in quick, shallow pants, and his pupils dilated, tinged with a faint hint of blue. Yet, it was the expression etched upon his face that sent a wave of terror crashing over you. 

Rafe's eyes showed no remorse.

Instead, you saw an overwhelming hunger within them that made your blood run cold. Rafe’s gaze moved down from your stunned face over your trembling body.  The danger that emanated from him made your knees buckle.

You took a step back, your mind whirling with fear and apprehension. But Rafe stepped forward, his eyes locked onto yours with determination.

"I-- I need to check on Wheezie. See what she'd like for dinner," you whispered, your voice shaking as you inched backwards toward the door. You turned to run but it was too late.

Rafe reached out and snatched the hem of your sweater, yanking you towards him. You struggled to break free, twisting and thrashing like a scared kitten in his grip but Rafe was relentless. His other hand reached for your waist as he pulled you close.  His nose and lips trailed the back of your neck and into your hairline and he groaned as he breathed you in. With a jab of your elbow into his rib you wriggled free.  It wasn't enough to wound him but it gave you the head start needed to run.

You dashed from the room, Rafe's pursuit relentless. His outstretched fingers grazed your sweater, narrowly missing its mark. It wasn't until you sprinted up the stairs that he abandoned the chase. You didn't need to glance back to feel his gaze on you.  The tendrils of his breathless laugh reverberated down the corridor.

You burst into Wheezie's room, a hot mess of tears and fear. You made up some excuse about feeling unwell and had to go home immediately. After calling Rose and arranging for a replacement babysitter for Wheezie, you sat in her room and waited for the sitter to arrive.

You didn't see Rafe when you left, and you thanked God for that. You knew that if you saw him, you would break down crying, and you couldn't bear to show him any more weakness. But the tears came anyways, hot and heavy, as soon as you got home. How could you have been so stupid? You knew all the rumors about him, knew that he wasn't a good guy, and yet somehow, you thought in your warped mind that he was different. A decent human being who was simply misunderstood.

It wasn't like you didn't see the signs. They were always there, staring you right in the face. The blatant flirting, the staring, the way he undressed you with his gaze. You dismissed every red flag, thinking he couldn't like you in that kind of way because you were not the type of girl Rafe Cameron would go for and you certainly weren't the type of girl Rafe Cameron would kiss.

And it wasn't just the kiss that scared you. It was the fact that Rafe had no intention of stopping. It was the way he held onto you, the way he made you feel like you were drowning in a sea of desire. He was a predator, relentless in his pursuit of you, and as you thought about how he grabbed onto your clothes his lips tracing your neck even as you protested you couldn't help but cry even harder.

No. There was no way you were setting foot in that house again. Not after the way Rafe kissed you, not after what he was determined to get out of you.

Over the next few weeks, Rose's texts kept coming, each one more insistent than the last. But you knew better than to give in to her demands. You couldn't go back to that house, not after what had happened with Rafe. It was too dangerous, too risky, and you couldn't afford to let your guard down again.

You thought about telling her what had happened with Rafe, but the thought of it made your stomach turn. How could you explain what had happened without sounding like a fool? That you had been hanging out with her stepson for months, that you had let things get out of hand?

You had every intention of never setting foot in that house again. But then Rose sent you a text, asking if you were available on Saturday. They were desperate, she said, and willing to offer triple what they usually paid. Rafe and Sarah were going to a game and the lady who was supposed to look after Wheezie had a family emergency.

You were going to turn them down, again, but the truth was that since you had dropped them as a client, it had been difficult to find other work. So, against your better judgement, you agreed, but only after Rose confirmed that she and Mr Cameron would be home long before Sarah and Rafe returned.

As the day of the babysitting gig approached, a sense of foreboding settled in the pit of your stomach. You knew that you shouldn't go, that it was too risky, too dangerous. But the promise of easy money was too tempting to ignore. And so, against your better judgement, you found yourself standing in front of the Cameron's house once again, your heart racing with a mix of fear and anticipation.

As you approached the front door, you couldn't help but feel a sense of unease. Rose had texted you on your way over, telling you that she would be getting ready and to let yourself in. But when you rang the doorbell and received no answer, you began to worry. Still, you didn't think anything of it when you turned the door handle and found that it was unlocked. You stepped inside and called out for Wheezie and Rose, but the house was silent.

Making your way to the kitchen, you put down your bag and pulled out your phone. You texted Rose and Wheezie to let them know that you had arrived and were in the kitchen, just in case Wheezie was plugged in. But as you waited for a response, your heart sank.

Something wasn't right. You could feel it.

You had been to the Camerons' house many times and had let yourself in on a few occasions when they were too busy to answer the door. None of this was new but it felt different. An ominous feeling washed over you. But just as you began to worry, the sound of footsteps in the hallway interrupted your thoughts, and you sighed in relief.

As you called out for Rose, a sudden hush fell over the room, broken only by the sound of footsteps approaching. You looked up, hoping to see Rose's familiar figure, but instead, your eyes met the last person you expected to see: Rafe.

His presence was jarring, like a thunderclap on a clear day. Your heart pounded in your chest as you tried to make sense of his unexpected appearance. But before you could utter a word, Rafe's murmur cut through the silence like a knife.

"Nah, not Rose," he said with a smile.

Fear took hold of you as you realized that he must have had something to do with Rose's texts in the first place. You stepped back, fear making your knees buckle.

"Where's Rose?" you whispered, wrapping your arms around yourself protectively, as if shielding yourself from him.

“Don’t worry about it,” he drawled, his voice low and dangerous.

“Don’t come near me,” you said firmly as Rafe rounded the kitchen island towards you. Immediately, you moved in the opposite direction away from him.

“I… I just… I needed to talk to you, like, a little bit. Is that okay?” he said, opening his hands to placate you.

“Did Rose actually text me?”

“She did,” Rafe soothed. “But then I, uh… I heard you’d be here tonight instead of Pat, and well… seeing you was more important to me than some game.” His eyes trailed over your face, studying your every reaction.

“Where’s Wheezie?”

“With Sarah.”

You shook your head, your mind reeling with disbelief. How could Rafe have orchestrated this situation for you to be alone with him without any of the Camerons noticing? But as if he heard your thoughts, a sly smile curled his lips and he chuckled softly.

“I told Rose I’d watch over Wheeze so she could catch an early ferry,” Rafe explained, his hands moving in slow, deliberate gestures, connecting invisible dots as he spoke. “After Rose left I gave my ticket to Wheeze.”

You felt like you were going to be sick.

“Look, I know the last time I was a little… a little intense…”

“Intense!” You choked. You would have laughed if the whole thing wasn’t so heartbreaking.

“Yes, and I’m -- I'm really sorry about that, okay? I really am.”

"You tried to ra-”

"No! No, no, I would never..." Rafe rushed towards you and you immediately backed away. He froze mid-step as you cowered, his hands still raised in surrender.  "I’m sorry things were confusing and it looked that way but I wasn't trying to hurt you. God, I- l’m-" Rafe sighed, deflated his hands landed on his hips, he looked away as he pressed his tongue on the inside of his cheek.

"You're sorry it looked that way?" you whispered your voice trembling. Rafe's words echoed in your mind while memories of that day in all its menacing glory flooded back. You looked at him flabbergasted.

"Rafe...you... you were kissing me-”

“I know but I-”

“And touching me--"

He breathed out a laugh "Come on, you know I was only-,"

“Without my consent, Rafe.”

He was silent with that and you hoped your words had finally sunk in, had finally made him understand how terrifying he was in that moment.

“Then you chased me.  You chased me like some...” you couldn’t even finish the sentence.  You didn’t know how to finish the sentence.  You were so hurt and confused.  That your friend could do something like that to you. “I don’t even know who you are. I- I don’t think I ever did,” you whispered.

Rafe's eyes landed on yours with that. His gaze was dark and intense, and for a moment, you thought you had gotten through to him because he nodded slowly. But then he let out a humourless chuckle, reminding you of the one he gave post-chase, and any hope of reaching him dissipated.

"You know, it’s funny ‘cause you say that...” Rafe said coldly, a hand gesturing to you as if trying to grasp his own thoughts “But you’re not entirely innocent in all of this, are you?” 

“I don't-- I don't understand."

“Do you have any idea what you're doing to me, huh, Y/N?

"Raf—"

"What kind of mental shit you put me through? Nah, you don't. You don't think about that, do you?" he asked, his hands gesturing toward you as his eyes narrowed and he stared you down. You felt a shiver run down your spine as you realized the gravity of Rafe's words. It was as if he was confessing to a darker truth, a mental anguish that he had been helplessly consumed by, something unintentionally sparked within him by your actions.

"I have my dad on my back talking about legacies, our family business and preparing me for that shit meanwhile Sarah’s running around town doing god knows what with some loser fucking up our family name. I have real shit to deal with...” he gave out a bitter laugh his hand clutched to his chest as he confessed.

“But even with all of that all I can think about every minute of every fucking day, is you.” Rafe's voice was raw and anguished. His hand moved up to his ear as he slowly walked towards you.

"It's like you've crawled into my brain, you know? Like I’m under some fucking spell with your music and your voice and your-" His eyes trailed down your body just as his hand followed the motion, and you shuddered. He was consuming you with his gaze every sinful thought etched across his features.

"Nah, you made me do this…” he said bitterly, his jaw clenched tight.

“Rafe--”

“You did and now I'm the bad guy because I had a moment of weakness. But you know what? Fuck, it.” he shrugged nonchalantly. “Fuck it, i’ll take responsibility for my part in this--”

“Rafe--”

“That’s what real men do, right? Take responsibility for their shit and I’m all about being accountable, so yeah, I kissed you.” He said nodding slowly. “But I’m not sorry.”

His words made you recoil, disbelief etched across your face as you stared at him.

“Yeah, you want me to pretend like I am. Act apologetic but I won’t. I'm not sorry and you should quit actin’ like you didn't enjoy it."

His words were like a punch to the gut, and you could feel the weight of his accusation settling in your stomach. Stunned, you opened your mouth to protest, but no words came out. A dry, humorless laugh left you instead. Rafe simply nodded slyly as he resumed his steps towards you, and as you stepped backwards, your back collided with the kitchen counter.

“That’s- that’s not true.”

“No?” he asked faux confused.

“It’s not- that’s not fair”

“Isn’t it?” he tutted.

"Rafe, listen to me," you whispered shakily, but he was already leaning in, his eyes dark and clouded.

"No. No, no, you listen.”  he rasped, circling in and looking down on you, his lips pouted as he leaned into the shell of your ear, “You were moaning Y/N- No, don’t do that.  Don’t shake your head, and act like you don’t know what I’m talking about. Don't stand there and pretend this whole fucking thing is one-sided. You were moaning into my mouth… and you...you held on to me, yeah? I didn’t force you to do those things."

"Rafe--”

“That was all you princess. So you gotta ask yourself. What kinda girl are you to be into that, hm?” Rafe whispered as he leaned into you.  “What kinda girl would moan like a whore when a guy manhandles her…”

“I didn’t- I wasn’t. I wanted you to stop Rafe and you-”

Rafe chuckled before you could even finish your sentence.

“Is that what was happening while you were kissing me back? Nah, see I know what your problem is. I know, I know, I know…” he repeated softly, as he gently rested his hands on your hips. “I know why you ran when deep down you wanted it.”

You opened your mouth to protest only for Rafe to push his body up against yours.  The hard wall of his body renders you speechless. “We eye fucked each other for months,”  he whispered, as he looked down at you.  His eyes darted to your lips as he licked his own.  “You wanted it.” He said coldly.

"But I get it. It was overwhelming... too much... too soon... hm?" he murmured as his nose grazed yours. "I should have approached you more patiently. I realize that now," he acknowledged with a slow nod. "I should have been gentle with you, and I had every intention to. But I -- I wanted you so bad that day that I couldn't think straight. I'm thinking straight now, though."

“Rafe...” you breathed out, your hands on his chest to push him away but not quite having the strength to do so.  Rafe must have picked up on this because he leaned in, his lips close to yours.

“You keep saying my name but you’re not telling me to stop...” Rafe whispered as his fingers caressed your cheek.  With a gentle touch, he lifted your chin, and you willingly yielded. His caress made you sway, your mind growing hazy and confused. To regain your balance, you closed your eyes.

“Why aren’t you telling me to stop, hm?” he whispered.

You could feel the electricity between you as Rafe leaned in, lips hovering over yours and you tilted your head up slightly, closing the distance, only to be met with nothing. When you opened your eyes, you were met with Rafe’s hooded ones a victorious smile creeping across his lips.  

“Come on” Rafe whispered, and before you could protest Rafe laced his fingers in yours and gently tugged you towards the living room.

Seated at the piano, Rafe smoothly lifted the fallboard with ease.

"Play something for me," he husked, gesturing for you to take a seat beside him on the bench. You felt a flutter of nervousness as you perched yourself next to him, unsure of where to start. You couldn't comprehend how you had gone from rejecting his advances to this moment of willing compliance and acceptance.

Rafe watched you intently. You had been up-close to Rafe before, but never this close. Not this intimately. Your mind became blank, overwhelmed with the prospect of playing for him.

"I...I don't know what to..." you stuttered.

"Anything, anything at all," Rafe whispered, his eyes studying your every move.

Taking a deep breath, you steadied your trembling fingers on the keys and began to release the notes,  slowly at first, but gaining confidence with every passing moment.

“I noticed you, you know,” Rafe rasped. His knuckles suddenly grazed your cheek, and you flinched. “The first time you came to babysit Wheeze, I noticed you.” Rafe followed his knuckles as he moved them across your jaw.

“I remember thinking you were beautiful… shy… innocent…” Opening his hand, his fingers trailed down your neck, and your breath hitched.

“You were wearing this exact sweater…” His fingers splayed over your collarbone as they moved slowly down to your chest.

“What are you hiding under here, hm?” he asked softly. “What are you hiding under these baggy clothes?”

You shied away from his touch, your hands withdrawing from the keys of the piano.

"No. None of that. I’ll tell you when to stop,” he said his voice stern yet soft.  Your eyes glanced at his as Rafe inched closer.  “I’ll tell you when to stop.” he iterated slowly. “Start again.”

Swallowing you placed your hands on the keys while the music resumed from your fingertips.

Rafe shifted closer his leg flushed against your own.  He wrapped his arm over the back of you and hooked it to the other side of the bench. Leaning in, his nose ghosted your neck.

“Raf-”

“Shhhh…”His nose nudged into your hairline.  His other hand on your chest continued its exploration.  It moved lower cupping your tit over your sweater.  The gasp you make made Rafe breathe even heavier, a deep pur coming from the back of his throat.

“Please-” you whispered shakily.

“I’ve always wanted to touch you, you know that?  Every time you played I’d think about what you’d feel like... what you’d look like, moaning for me.  I wanna hear you moan for me.”  

Determined Rafe’s hand moved lower until it dipped under your sweater. Deftly he fumbled under your t-shirt and you gasped when his warm fingers brushed the skin of your stomach. His other hand let go of the piano stool and was now under your sweater squeezing your tit through your bra.

“Rafe--”

“Keep playing” he whispered against your neck and you did. His hand at your stomach moved lower, finding the button on your jeans he unbutton it with one deft move and your hands falter.

“Keep playing” he murmured, face nudging into your neck, his lips pressing soft kisses to your throat.  “I wanna hear you play while I touch you”  

The sensation of Rafe's hands on your body was almost lost in the overwhelming numbness that had taken over you. His strong hand leisurely tugged at the waistband of your panties seeking to touch what lay beneath, while his other hand snaked under your bra. He caressed and teased your nipple until a soft sob erupted from you as pleasure surged through your veins.

Rafe moved his hand lower, slipping it between your wet folds and pushing his middle finger inside of you. You cried out, the intensity of sensation causing you to clutch onto Rafe's arm for support, music abandoned.

“It’s okay “ Rafe breathed deeply into your neck, as he roughly peppered your neck with kisses.  “You're okay. Just breathe...” and as he said those comforting words he gently wormed another slender finger passed your slippery folds and into you.

You hissed, trying to move away from the burning stretch of his long fingers. Your nails dug into the flesh of his wrist with enough force to draw blood but Rafe determined as ever slowly moved his fingers in and out of you, each time inserting them a little deeper until it reached his signet ring.  

"You've had more than one finger before?" he asked hotly against your neck. You shook your head no, gritting your teeth in an effort to endure him stretching you further still. Rafe groaned and nipped softly at your jawline, "Fuck, I can tell. I can barely move them. But you're a good girl, aren't you? You're taking them well and afterwards, I'm gonna train you to take all of me."

Rafe's lips trailed tender kisses down the length of your neck, then his mouth closed hungrily around the sensitive skin. His two fingers moved inside you and each slow thrust drew a soft moan from your lips.

With surety, he curled his fingers in a come-hither motion, barely grazing your clit with his thumb. The sensation was overwhelming and foreign, causing you to gasp and cum embarrassingly fast. Your pussy contracting around his fingers, milking them for all they were worth.

“Oh Fuuckk…” Rafe hissed. “You liked that, I can feel it.“ He sighed utterly mesmerised. “Well, if you like that...” Rafe groaned resting his forehead against the side of your face and planting soft kisses on your cheek. “You’re gonna love this.”

With his bottom lip caught between his teeth, Rafe's probing fingers started their relentless hunt for something deep within you. Suddenly, those searching digits found what they were looking for - a spot that caused you to arch over and clutch his hand as you cried out despite your best efforts.

“Oh- there it is” he chuckled softly, shunting his hand and hitting that spot over and over again with a speed and force that knocked the breath out of you, while his thumb expertly rubbed your clit and the fingers of his other hand mercilessly pulled and twisted your nipple.

“OhmyGOD!” you cried.

“That’s it, baby. Fuck my hand. Just like that.”

Rafe kept at it, even as your nails scraped along his wrist and arm for purchase.  Even as you screamed and tried to scissor your legs closed to shut him out. None of it mattered as your eyes crossed and you felt your orgasm raw and violent crash over you. 

Bucking violently into Rafe’s hand, you could feel your release seep through your jeans and onto the piano bench. Pooling and overflowing you could hear it trickle onto the hardwood floor like raindrops and still, Rafe kept going, kept finger fucking you.

Lost in a sea of agonising pleasure you could do nothing but slump against him and take it, your hips stuttering, your mouth sagging as you whimpered and gasped.

Rafe moaned against you, planting soft kisses on the column of your throat. He stilled his hand, his fingers buried deep inside while you desperately tried to catch your breath.

"Seems my fingers are just as talented as yours, hm?" he said with a breathless chuckle. His nose trailed along your neck, while his tongue darted out to capture the perspiration nestled there. 

Gently, Rafe removed his digits while you gazed in shock, unable to voice a single word as he brought the wet fingers to his lips and ravenously lapped up your fluids with a contented hum.

“It’s too much.” you said hoarsely  “I can’t-- I can't do this. No more, Rafe. No more,” you said weakly, trying to remove his hand from your breast and move away from his hold only for Rafe to seize your wrist painfully in his grasp.

"No more?" Rafe chuckled darkly, his gaze fixed on you with dilated pupils. "No more?" he repeated, inching closer as he shook his head. "Nah, baby. No. We're just getting started..."

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

Thank you for reading.  Thanks for liking and reblogging. PART 2 / MASTERLIST

#rafe cameron x you #rafe x reader #dark!rafe cameron #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron imagine #rafe x you #rafe fic #outer banks fanfiction #rafe obx #rafe cameron x reader #dark!rafe #obx #obx rafe cameron #selfreblog #timezone reblog

[deliciousangelfestival]

Cozy Secrets || Bucky Barnes

Character: Spy!Bucky x Roommate!Reader

Summary: Y/N discovers her seemingly perfect roommate, Bucky, is a spy.

Chp 1, Chp 2 , Chp 3 , -

Main Masterlist || buy me Ko-fi 🥹💓

Thank you to anyone who gave a like, reblog, and left a comment. It motivated me to write more. 

In the heart of the bustling city, Y/N  found herself looking for the perfect roommate. Her previous housemate had bid adieu after getting engaged, leaving Y/N in the lurch to find a suitable replacement.

After countless interviews, Y/N finally stumbled upon what seemed to be the answer to her roommate's quest – Bucky, a sports photographer with a penchant for cleanliness and a propensity for quiet nights.

His nocturnal work hours meshed well with Y/N's daytime routine, and his willingness to contribute to the apartment's upkeep made him the ideal housemate.

The first three months of their living arrangement went smoothly. He was always punctual with rent, impeccably tidy, and even willing to take on household chores without complaint – he was the roommate Y/N had always dreamed of.

However, something twisted happened one day when she returned home later than usual.

As she swung open the door, ready to unwind in her sanctuary, her eyes widened in disbelief and horror.

Her once-immaculate living space was now a chaotic mess, and right in the middle of the turmoil were two men engaged in a heated scuffle, with Bucky caught in the crossfire.

"Excuse me, what the heck is this?" Y/N exclaimed, her initial shock transforming into a mix of rage and confusion. The three combatants froze, turning their attention to Y/N.

The two men, realizing they were caught in the act, exchanged nervous glances but didn't utter a word. Bucky seized the opportunity for a strategic move in the split second of confusion.

With a swift motion, he expertly maneuvered between the brawlers and shut them down with a series of impeccably executed moves, leaving them in a stunned heap on the floor.

"Bucky, what in the world is happening here?" Y/N demanded, her eyes darting between the mess and her roommate, who was now defensive.

Bucky, seeing the need for a more honest approach, took a deep breath and decided to come clean. "Y/N, there's something you should know. I'm not just a sports photographer. I'm actually a spy."

Y/N stared at him, her initial anger giving way to sheer disbelief. "A spy? Are you serious, Bucky? Is this some sort of elaborate prank?"

Bucky shook his head, his expression serious. "No, I'm dead serious. I chose this apartment because it provides the perfect vantage point to keep an eye on a target across the building. Those guys you just saw? They were after the same target, and things got a bit out of hand."

Y/N blinked, processing this unexpected revelation. "Wait, so you're telling me that all this time, while I thought you were just a neat freak sports photographer, you've been living a double life as a spy?"

Looking genuinely remorseful, Bucky began, "Y/N, I'm really sorry about the mess. This wasn't supposed to happen, and I didn't mean to put you in this situation. It was a mistake, and I take full responsibility."

Y/N, arms still crossed, nodded. "Apologies won't fix my now-ruined living room, Bucky. This is unacceptable. I thought I finally found the perfect roommate, not a spy who turns my place into a battlefield."

Bucky, understanding the gravity of the situation, nodded solemnly. "I understand, Y/N. My agency will cover the expenses for the repairs and replacements. I'll make sure everything is back to normal. You have my word."

True to his word, Bucky coordinated with his agency, ensuring a team was dispatched to clean up the aftermath of the brawl. Broken items were replaced with new ones, and the apartment was restored to its former glory.

A few days later, as Y/N surveyed the now spotless living room, Bucky approached her tentatively. "I hope this makes up for the mess, Y/N. I really didn't mean for any of this to happen."

Y/N, now feeling a bit more forgiving, sighed. "Fine, Bucky. You've cleaned up your mess, literally. But I still need time to get over the fact that my roommate is a spy who uses my apartment for covert operations."

Bucky hesitated, "Y/N, I hope you don't want me to move out. I really like it here."

As Y/N contemplated whether she should ask Bucky to find a new place, her phone buzzed with a notification about her upcoming high school reunion. The idea of attending filled her with dread.

"Ugh, a high school reunion," she muttered to herself.

Bucky, overhearing, raised an eyebrow. "Problem with the reunion?"

Y/N grimaced. "I despise those events.” She doesn’t want to meet the popular girl from her school who constantly bullies her. But this time, she wants to show off. She got an excellent job nice apartment. But there’s one she doesn’t have. 

A boyfriend. 

Y/N looked Bucky from head to toe and mumbled, “What if..." But this idea was insane; she shook her head. 

Bucky looked curious. "What if what?"

“Nothing.”

Bucky, understanding the high school dynamics, chuckled. "Ah, trying to one-up the mean girls from the past. So you need someone to accompany you? I'm in.”

Y/N fell silent for a moment, a realization slowly dawning on her. "You knew about my personal life?"

Bucky rubbed his head, a hint of embarrassment coloring his expression. He didn't deny it, saying, "Well, I'm a spy, and my agency does background checks on everyone."

Her hands now covering her face, Y/N sighed, "Oh no...."

Bucky couldn't help but chuckle at her reaction. "What do you think? With my spy skills, I bet I could impress everyone at the reunion. In exchange, please don't kick me out. Pleasee...."

Y/N grumbled, her frustration apparent. "Fine."

Bucky grinned, a mix of relief and amusement in his eyes. "Thanks Y/N. I swear you won’t regret this."

As they navigated the quirks of their unique living situation, little did they know that more surprises and adventures awaited them in the days ahead.

Chp 1, Chp 2 , Chp 3 ,-

Main Masterlist || buy me Ko-fi 🥹💓

Thank you to anyone who gave a like, reblog, and left a comment. It motivated me to write more. 

#buckybarnes #james bucky buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky imagine #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky x female reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader #winter soldier #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #sebastian x y/n #sebastian stan characters #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader

[moon-rivr]

Hey, I’m not sure if you’re open or not, but I have a request that I thought would be hot!

So Miguel x vigilante! Reader. She’s not a hero, but if Miguel needs her then she will help him (is very opposed to it but does it because they used to be friends). Sometimes the two of them will fight, but they would never somehow hurt each other badly.

But one day she gets hurt by some arrogant hero (idk who, maybe a variant of cat woman or smth) and Mig gets PISSED! Like he grabs reader and looks at the other hero as if he was about to commit mass homicide.

And he takes care of reader, but he begins to get Dark! Cause he will not let her leave his house, he treats her like a godddess, will spoil her (idk) but then he will not allow her to call anyone. She also finds out that he called into her work and said that she will no longer be working there. And one day he comes back home and straight up proposes to her, saying how he wants her to be his wife and be his forever. He also begins to start saying how he knows that she likes the thought of him torturing others for her etc etc.

Thank you so so much!!! ~ ☀️

only one you need

pairing: miguel o’hara x vigilante fem reader

contents: some yandere themes, spanking, slapping (once), choking, unprotected p in v, breeding kink, degrading, orgasm denial, smidge of lore (not too important)

author’s note: i hope you enjoy and thank you for being patient with me <33 (i hope i didn’t mess this up 😓)

word count: 3.4K

You weren't a hero by any means. You were the Robin Hood of your community, stealing from the rich and powerful to redistribute amongst yourself and your community. The only thing that motivated you to continue taking beatings regularly was the fact that you knew you would starve if you didn't. Your job paid decent, though it wasn't nearly enough to cover your expenses living in Nueva York along with the cost of food.

You were heading back home after stopping a mob deal when you heard the watch in your pocket go off. It'd been weeks of radio silence and you'd assumed that Miguel simply found someone else to work with. While the two of you constantly butted heads over what methods to deal with your opponents, he was very dedicated to his work which made him tolerable to work with. You also had a preference towards helping him given that you cherished the friendship you had with him. The text simply told you to meet him at Earth-65, that it was an urgent matter to be dealt with.

The earth wasn't too different from the other ones you've encountered, though the streets seemed to be more empty than usual. You went up to the Empire State Building, a constant meeting spot in the worlds that you visited. "Hey Spider-Man, what's up?" You asked him, seeing that he was sitting at the ledge. "Took you long enough," he told you, pressing some buttons on his gizmo and his mask dissipated. You rolled your eyes, sitting down next to him as you waited for a brief of what you'd be doing here. "I called you over because of a villain here," he told you, glancing at you through the corner of his eye. "Ask me for my help with a ‘please’ and I might consider it."

He looked around like he was worried of someone overhearing before he turned to look at you. "Pretty please help me with this," he said, though you weren't expecting him to actually comply. "Okay, what's up with this villain?" You asked him and he stayed quiet for a moment as his lips pursed. "Basically the Kingpin from this dimension wants to repeat what the one from Earth-1610 did," he finally spoke up and you couldn't help but let out a laugh.

"So why not use the same strategy as last time?" You asked him and he let out a small growl at the mention of what happened. "That ended up in more harm than good if you don't recall and this Kingpin's working with the Hand. Apparently they're skilled ninjas or something like that, right up your alley," he responded and your brows furrowed in recognition. "Doesn't Daredevil usually deal with them in every universe?" You inquired, looking up at him. "Daredevil is Kingpin here."

You and Miguel discussed some strategies on how to deal with your little problem when you felt a gush of wind zoom right past you. Before you two had a chance to attack, the two of you found yourselves tied up in a rope. Your attacker came into view, resulting in none other than Felicia Hardy, and she came in close to analyze the two of you. "Well, you're much more handsome than the usual Spider-Man," she purred, stroking Miguel's cheek as she spoke. "Kingpin wanted me to send his regards, though he doesn't appreciate you two trying to stop him," she continued, stepping back once she finished with her observations. "Seems counterintuitive to help out the man who killed your father," Miguel spoke up, letting out a scoff.

Felicia’s eyes darkened for a moment before they returned back to normal, a smirk on her face. "I don't do things that don't benefit me," she simply said, looking down at the two of you. "So, do you choose to take the warning or continue with this little strategy of yours? The Hand will never let you even two inches close to him," she inquired, tapping her foot on the floor. Miguel took the chance to unsheath his claws, the rope falling on the floor. Felicia whistled, a circle of ninjas surrounding the two of you.

The two of you split up, defending yourselves against the Hand, while Felicia watched idly by the side. You got on top of her, planning to tie her up and ended up getting punched on the nose. You recoiled, your defenses weakened when you felt a sharp sting in your stomach. You looked down to see that one of the ninjas stuck a katana in you, the blood starting to pool on the floor. Miguel pulled the ninja off you and grabbed Felicia by her neck, dangling her as he picked her up. His talons unsheathed at his sides, a small growl coming up his throat as he opened his mouth, fangs ready to attack her.

"Miguel!" You screamed, holding your stomach as you tried to control the bleeding. You looked up to see Felicia, the fear evident in her eyes even though her stoic expression didn't show it. You couldn't help but feel a bit of guilty as you saw her for what she was in that moment. She was willing to do anything to get her father back, even work with the man that scorned her. Miguel turned to look at you, his eyes softening and his talons retreating as he set down felicia. Your vision began spotting up, and the only thing you felt was Miguel's arms helping you up before you passed out.

You woke up with the sun shining in through the curtains in a unfamiliar room before the events from earlier came back to you. You looked down to your stomach and realized that the stab wound was mostly healed, minimal scarring visible. You looked over to see Miguel walking in, holding a pill with a glass of water. "You finally woke up, how are you feeling?" He asked, handing you the pill and water. "Just a little pain. How long have i been out for?" You inquired, putting the pill in your mouth before gulping down the water. "You've been out for almost a week."

"Thank you for taking care of me, but I have to get back to my universe. I'm sure my job won't let me spend me any more time off," you told him once you finished up with the water, wiping your mouth. "You don't have to worry about that anymore, I called them to tell that you wouldn't be coming in anymore," he responded eerily calm and your eyes narrowed.

"Why would you do that, Miguel?"

"Because you don't have to worry about your financial situation anymore. You'll be staying here with me and I'll be taking care of you."

"But what about the people in my neighborhood?"

"I'll take care of their necessities."

You took a couple seconds to consider what he was telling you before nodding. "Okay, sure," you responded, folding your arms awkwardly. The concept was foreign to you, of having to depend on someone else for your financial needs. You'd been working to provide for yourself since you were able to, though you lived very minimally. "Did you manage to get Kingpin?" You asked, looking over at him. "I did, I got some of the other members from the Society to help me. I'm sorry for putting you in danger. The last thing i wanted was for you to get hurt," he responds, rubbing the side of his neck.

"It was just a little cut, I’ll be fine," you tried to downplay the situation, despite the fact that you felt a pain every time you moved. "I'll take care of you while you heal, okay?" He reassured you, kissing your forehead before he walked out of the room. You sat down on the bed as you tried to wrap your head around the situation, that you'd never have to work again or have to settle for the minimum. You began to accept the idea the more you thought about it even if you weren't too sure why Miguel was doing all this for you.

"Hey, Miguel? Why're you doing all this for me?" You asked him when you came out to the kitchen, seeing that Miguel was cooking something up for the both of you. "I care about you, even if I haven't really shown it through my actions. You're the only person I can really tolerate being around for extended periods of time," he responded, looking over at you as he set down the spoon. You helped him out by chopping some of the vegetables, glancing at him through the corner of your eye. “I took the opportunity to go to your universe to bring back some of your clothes. I hope you don't mind knowing that I went through your closet," he told you as he poured in the chopped vegetables in the soup he was making. "I don't mind, thank you for that," you responded, looking through the cabinets for some spices.

You felt your breath hitch as Miguel moved behind you, reaching towards the cabinet above you. He placed his hand on your hip for a split second as he grabbed the spices, pulling them out. You missed the touch as soon as he walked away, going towards the oven once more. You watched as he cooked, pouring in the oregano and thyme, keeping his eye on the container to not pour in too much. You excused yourself from the kitchen, going back into the bedroom.

You called one of the girls you'd been helping back in your universe, hoping that she'd been doing well in your absence. "What are you doing?" You heard from behind you, Miguel coming into the room. "I'm trying to call one of the people I used to help out back home, see how she's doing," you responded, looking back at him. He grabbed the phone from you, hanging up before sticking it in his pocket. "No more of that. The only person you need to talk to is me. I'm the only person that you need," he told you, holding up your chin as he spoke. "But I’m worried about her, Miguel," you tried to defend yourself but he wasn't budging on the subject. "I'll go check up on her tomorrow if that's important to you. But you won't be talking to anyone else. Like I told you, I’m the only person that you need."

Even though you should've ran for the hills after he told you that, you didn't mind only being with him and only spending time with him. He'd even given you an Amex card, telling you to spend whatever you want to your heart's content. Needless to say, your wardrobe ended up expanding into luxurious items and you bought more expensive jewelry. Miguel often told you how much he liked seeing you spend his money, how much he liked seeing you glammed up and just because of him.

Your relationship with Miguel continued to grow throughout the following weeks, the two of you ended up having dinners together and doing activities in the house. Though you had a longing to spend time with other people, you could appreciate that Miguel let you keep the interdimensional watch.

Miguel arrived from work late at night, his eyebags prominent as he stepped out of the portal. "Hey, how'd it go today?" you asked him, walking up to him to wrap your hands around him. "It was okay. I'm gonna go change into something comfortable and I'll join you for dinner," he told you, dipping his head to kiss your forehead. He walked away, retreating back to the bedroom to get changed and you headed into the kitchen. You served a plate for you both and set them down on the table, sitting down as you waited for him to come out.

Dinner had gone as usual, mostly just talking about what you'd done inside the house and him talking about what kind of creatures he'd encountered. Though you felt some sort of longing at being able to go to the streets and fight again, you couldn't help but wonder if your efforts were all just in vain after all. That no matter how much you gave it your all in the fights that you had, it wouldn't matter in the end and that made it easier to make yourself more comfortable just staying with Miguel. You were about to head upstairs after finishing up the dishes to get ready for bed before you were stopped by him calling out your name.

You turned around to see miguel on one knee and all the air in your lungs escaped as you saw the box he was holding. "Will you marry me?" The request was simple but his face told you that everything about the gesture was not. You could see the love that he held for you as he looked up at you and you couldn't help the tears that rolled down your cheek. You nodded quickly and went over to kiss him, rubbing the tears away from your cheeks. "I'd love to marry you, Miguel."

The union was at Miguel's house and the only people present were the priest and Peter B. Parker to authenticate the wedding. You had on a beautiful floor-length white dress while Miguel had on a black tux, the material fitting him snugly. "You may now kiss the bride," the priest told the both of you after the vows were done and Miguel placed his his hands on your hips as he kissed you. The priest left a couple minutes after that and Miguel headed upstairs to get the nice whiskey out.

You took the opportunity to make conversation with Peter, wanting to know more about his close friend. You were in the middle of discussing what Miguel was like at work with him when Miguel grabbed your arm, pulling you behind him. "I think it's time for you to leave, Peter. Me and my wife have some talking to do," he told him, his voice eerily calm despite how much his back had tensed up as he spoke. Peter congratulated the two of you once more before he left the house and Miguel turned to look at you, his eyes narrowed. "Run."

You felt your heart thumping as you hid underneath the bed and the only thing you could do was listen to Miguel's taunting calls. "Where are you, conejita? Don't you wanna come out and play?" He purred, his voice echoing throughout the empty house. (bunny) Miguel came into the bedroom, his footsteps shuffling around as he opened up the closet door and peeked inside before shutting the door. You let out a sigh of relief but that relief was short lived when your legs were pulled back, forcing you out of your hiding spot.

"Do you know what you did wrong, mi amor?" He asked you, his tone condescending as he held a firm grip on your chin. "I talked to Peter when I shouldn't have, I'm sorry," you replied, your eyes drifting towards the ground in shame. "Aht, none of that. Look at me," he ordered and you complied, looking up at him. "Tell me conejita, what do you think the adequate punishment for that is?" He inquired, his voice husky as he sat down on the bed, bringing you down onto his lap. Your throat bobbed as your mind ran blank and Miguel couldn't help but let out a small chuckle. "You shouldn't have left it up to me, muñeca." (doll)

You let out a whine as his hand met the plush skin of your ass once more, the skin stinging from the amount of times he'd done this. "Count or we're starting over from zero," he told you as tears ran down your cheeks. "Ten!" You whined out, your pussy clenching against nothing as your juices coated his pant leg. "Can't even punish you because you end up liking it like the slut you are," he hissed, bringing his hand up to slap your other ass cheek. The two of you kept this up until he reached twenty and he looked down at you, his brows furrowing. "What's the color?" He asked, his voice taking on a light tone despite what he'd just done. "Green," you responded, getting up from the bed before Miguel took you in his arms with ease.

You were laid down on your back as Miguel took off his pants, the tip of his cock red as it glistened with precum. You spread your legs instinctively and he started to insert his cock in slowly, making sure to give you some time to adjust before he got started. Soon enough, his hips were snapping against yours with every thrust that he took and his hand went up to your neck, squeezing gently. "The only one you need and will ever need is me, understood?" He told you as he continued to abuse your cunt with his cock. You struggled to form words in your head so you moaned out in approval, only being met with Miguel's hand slapping across your cheek. "I need a verbal response, conejita," he told you, his hand returning back to the spot around your neck. "Y-Yes!" Your voice came out garbled as you try to conjure up the words and let out a soft hum in approval before he placed your legs against your chest.

"I think you like knowing that I would kill anyone for you. That I wouldn't let anything happen to you, mi amor," he told you, his voice coming out strained as your walls squeezed around his cock. The headboard slammed against the wall as he continued to thrust deep into you, his pace never faltering. You felt your orgasm approaching you quickly and your moans got louder, your hands gripping the bedsheets. The sweet euphoria of the orgasm never came, though, because Miguel pulled out his cock right as you were about to approach your peak. "You really think you can cum with that little stunt you just pulled?" He asked you, letting out a laugh before you had a chance to protest.

He pushed his cock inside of you once more in a swift motion, your hands gripping his forearms as he continued. "Please! Make me cum, Mig!" You pleaded, tears rolling down your cheeks. He leaned down, licking away your tears as he let out a small chuckle. "I will, princesa. You'll be begging me to stop by the time this is over," he responded, his hands on your hips as he pushed in deeper and faster. "You'll be so pretty when you're full of my cum. That's all you're meant to be, my pretty little wife and the bearer of my kids. Those tits full of milk and everybody will know just who you belong to," he told you, his hand coming down on your clit as he rubbed small, sloppy circles on your clit.

Luckily enough, he let you cum this time and your releases coated his shaft, providing him enough lubrication to slide in easily. He came soon after as he felt your walls squeeze his cock dry, his cum coating your walls completely. You'd expected him to stop right there but he continued to thrust inside of you, keeping that same pace from before. "I told you, you'd be asking me to stop by the time this is over," he told you with a smirk, bending down to kiss you as he placed your legs over his shoulders.

You were unsure of how many times you'd came by the time the night was over and all the thoughts in your brain had been turned into mush. Miguel pulled out his softening cock out of you, your plush walls stuffed with his cum after his multiple orgasms. He grabbed a cloth from the bathroom, cleaning you up gently so to not give you any more stimulation. He held you close to him as you came down from your orgasms, your breath returning back to normal. "Did I go too far?" He asked you gently, his hand rubbing small circles on your back. "No, it's okay," you assured him, pressing a small kiss on his cheek. "Te amo, esposa. Nunca te quiero perder." (i love you, wife. i never want to lose you)

#moon-rivr #miguel o’hara spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara imagine #miguel o’hara fanfiction #miguel o’hara fic #miguel o’hara drabble #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 smut #atsv miguel #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel atsv #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara across the spider verse #miguel o’hara spiderverse #spiderman #spiderman smut #smut #miguel x y/n #miguel x you #miguel spiderman #miguel spiderverse #spiderman atsv #miguel 2099 #miguel fic #miguel fanfic #miguel x reader #miguel ohara

[llamagoddessofficial]

Thank you @radpunch for giving me an excuse for more Farmtale Sans... he's the love of my life

I don't usually do this, but I thought I'd add some recommended music for reading this piece. I listened to this the whole time I was writing, and I think it really adds to the vibe.

---

To anyone else, the sight of a body in a field neighbouring yours probably would’ve caused no small amount of alarm. Instead, you just sighed, finally laying down your shovel for the day and hopping the fence you had only just finished repairing.

The grass brushed against your hips as you walked, moving your feet as if wading through water. The evening sun caught the long, glimmering single stray cobwebs that trailed from the grass flower heads, and illuminated the tiny fluttering bodies of disturbed insects that fluttered up and away when you walked by. Though it was a pain to move through, you always liked when the field looked like this. It was your own romantic summer sea.

Eventually, you came across the ‘body’. Sans was lounging with his head propped up on a pile of empty seed bags, straw hat placed on his chest, sockets shut. The sun didn’t reach him now, the tall grass on all sides of him left a perfect little shady spot where he had nestled in. He looked very comfy... very peaceful. This wasn’t unusual at all, for him. He had a knack for finding hidden places to nap.

You crouched down. You could hear him faintly snoring. There was a tiny iridescent beetle sitting proudly on his bent knee, using the vantage point to observe its surroundings. It didn’t seem bothered by your presence in the slightest.

Sans was nice to look at. You had always considered him kinda good-looking, but he had grown more and more on you over time. Despite his brother being more classically ‘handsome’, with his high cheekbones, strong jawline and impressive physique, Sans was the one you found yourself getting caught staring at. He was... so easygoing. Not softspoken, too confident for that. Just never needing to raise his voice. Quick witted, strong, smart. Casual. Despite his silly straw hat, constantly muddy pants and crappy jokes, something about him was effortlessly cool. Effortlessly pretty.

And you were...

...

He had dirt on his cheekbone. Without thinking, you reached out, wiping it off. 

Before you could even blink, his hand snapped up, catching yours by the wrist. You let out a little inelegant shriek then slapped your free hand over your mouth in embarrassment - he snorted, sockets opening up, pretty fuzzy green eyelights landing on you. 

“well hello there,” he said, voice only mildly sleepy, with a gentle purr to it. He turned his face, and kissed your palm.

You shrieked a second time. Well... this one was more like a yelp, yanking your hand out of his grip as both of you descended into laughter. “Gross!”

You weren’t going to admit the move had given you butterflies. Nor that the way he was looking at you was making you feel things you didn’t have words for yet. You made a point of wiping your hand on your work pants.

“am i still asleep, or d’you just look like a dream to me?” he asked, leaning back, knitting his fingers together over his chest. 

“Charming.” Your tone just made him snicker. “The sun is setting. You getting up soon, or are you planning on sleeping under the stars tonight?”

Sans’ gaze was very soft. “hey, that actually don’t sound too bad. ‘specially if i had the right company.”

“True. Stargazing with someone is always nicer.”

“could always join me. room for two, in this patch.”

“Unlike you, I have to worry about ticks.” You flicked his shoulder. “I’ll think about it when the grass is cut.”

He grinned. “dang. never felt so motivated to do a chore before. s’that a promise, then? when i cut the grass you’ll come stargaze with me?”

You rolled your eyes. But there they were again; the butterflies. The thing with Sans was you never had any idea whether or not he was serious. He said entirely joking and entirely genuine things with the same tone of voice, the same smile, the same twinkling eyelights. Maybe in a few years you’d know him well enough to tell. Right now, though, you were much too afraid of embarrassing both of you by assuming his 'flirting' was anything but banter.

He finally sat up, and the beetle on his knee took off into the sky. It felt so cosy, somehow; the two of you were almost entirely below the top of the grass, hiding in a tiny den. It smelled like... well, grass, duh. But a specific kind of grassy smell - sweet and dry, more like hay, summery and clear. It reminded you of playing outside as a child until the sun had long gone down. 

“you been exertin’ yerself? all red.”

“Yeah, I’ve just been fixing the fence.” A lie and a truth. You had been fixing the fence, but it was a menial chore that hadn’t required huge amounts of strain. The blushing was from something else.

“ah, jeez." A break in his easy mood. "we’re still really sorry about that. pap is absolutely mortified, think he's set aside a whole load of crop for you.”

The brothers’ goat had managed to break through several fences, including yours, to take a 'visit' to your garden. You’d found her in your flowerbed, happily eating the tops off the marigolds you were going to cut and take to market. 

You’d never seen someone more apologetic than when Papyrus showed up to bring her home. The animal still had bright yellow petals in her beard as he led her away.

“It’s alright,” you said, warmly. “it wasn't like it was malicious or anything. Animals get out. I don’t think I’ve ever met a more sweet-natured goat anyway.”

“should’ve told me you were fixing that fence. i would’ve helped out.”

“Oh would you have?” Your tone was mock-suspicious. “How convenient that you waited until I was finished to tell me that.”

His sockets raised at the corners. “i’m serious! you doubtin’ my honesty? dang. thought we were close.”

Uh oh. Butterflies again. You swerved, doing your best to avoid it.

“So does your brother know you’re out here?”

“course not,” he snickered. “he still thinks i’m working.”

“Maybe I should go tell him that you’re flunking. I’m certain he already knows, he just needs to catch you in the act.”

He put his hat back on his head. “well. guess now i have to kill you.”

You laughed - and in the shade, entirely missed the little green shimmer across his cheekbones.

“How’s the day been then, sleepyhead?”

He shrugged, picking at some of the flattened grass. “busy. exactly how you think late summer on a farm would be. harvestin’, packin’ stuff up. lotsa ploughing. even with magic, it’s hard work. i’m just stealing whatever breaks i can find. you?”

You gave him a look. “You came over yesterday. You know how I'm doing.”

He leant over, lightly elbowing you. “c’mon. i’m doin’ the small talk thing. can’t leave me hangin’ here.”

“So now you’re guilt tripping me? You’re a real piece of work.”

That got another snicker out of him. He was so handsome when he laughed. 

Sans always liked knowing what was going on in your life. It was weird, you never saw him do that with anyone else; it had taken you a while to notice it but even with his closest friends he didn’t talk half as much as he did with you. The first time you’d seen him talking to Toriel you had thought he was in a bad mood, with how little he engaged, how simple his questions were, how sparingly he spoke.

“BAD MOOD? WHAT DO YOU MEAN?”

“Sans just didn’t seem very chatty tonight. Did something happen?”

“OH? OH! NYEHEHEHEH, HOW FUNNY! SANS WAS COMPLETELY NORMAL TONIGHT, HUMAN, DON’T YOU WORRY. THIS IS HOW HE ALWAYS IS AT GET-TOGETHERS.”

“But he...”

“HE’S JUST MUCH CHATTIER WITH ME AND YOU.”

You liked to think he felt safe around you. You definitely felt safer around him, that was for sure. 

You pulled your knees up to your chest, relenting under his gaze. “Okay okay, fine. I’m doing alright, I guess. The old trees came right back to life as soon as the thickets were cleared away. There’s already fruit, they just need another year or so to get market ready.”

“and yer flowers? they sellin’ well?”

“It’s a good way to plug the money gaps in the meantime. Living in the age of the internet definitely helps, there’s lots of information floating around that has made it so much easier for me to get started. I dunno. It’s alright.”

You wanted to stop talking. You looked away, staring off into the ‘forest’ surrounding you, the waning sunset catching certain blades and turning them into a warm burning orange. In the distance you could hear the rolling and bubbling singing of a particularly loud bird somewhere overhead.

Despite your desire to shut up, Sans wasn’t about to let you. His lovely eyelights just continued to bore into you. 

“i can hear a ‘but’ in there.”

...

You sighed. Oh well. Who else were you going to be able to talk to?

“I thought the impostor syndrome would be gone by now.”

He cocked his head. You had no choice but to continue. 

“I’m just... I still feel like I’m not part of this. My mind hasn’t settled in. Every day is a confusing fight where I feel like I barely make it out the other side. Most of my flower boxes are stuck together with tape and hope.” You settled your chin onto your knees, sulking. “Every time things start to make sense, and I feel like I’m finally starting to get some solid ground, another problem shows up. Another thing breaks. Another bug I didn’t know existed is eating the fruit, another tree disease I have to prep against otherwise it might wipe out the orchard, another colony of aphids eating the flowers. I can’t win.”

“sounds pretty normal to me.”

You looked up from your knees. “Does it?” 

“that’s just life, ain’t it?” He had somehow shuffled closer to you, entirely without you noticing. “there’s always some new problem. if ya ask me, sounds exactly like a day on our farm. one of the ducks is injured, a coop is leaking, chicken got eaten in the night, goat escaped and ate the neighbour’s flowers. nothing goes how you expect. if you ask me, you’re doing great.”

You hummed. “Doesn’t feel like it.”

“doin’ good on paper, too. human from the suburbs moves to the countryside and buys an abandoned orchard. most of the time that ends in disaster. but yer trees are fruiting, could be ready in a single year, the flowers are already bloomin’ and sellin’ at the market. not sure how you could do any better.”

... You couldn’t help but feel warm. Especially on your face again. Partially because of his kind words, yes... but mostly because he seemed so intent on making you feel less bad. It made your chest all fluttery.

“... Thank you,” you mumbled. "that does make me feel better."

“course. anytime. just wish you’d ask for help, more.”

The bird from earlier started singing again. You glanced up, but could see nothing from within the little 'den'.

“Any idea what that bird is?”

He leant back. One hand, conspicuously, resting on the ground just behind your back. “s’a skylark.”

“... Skylark.” 

You stared up into the clear evening sky. You weren’t great with bird names, but you’d definitely remember that. 

...

Feeling like he was looking at you, you turned to the side. Sans was looking at you - and his face was only really a few inches from yours. Close enough that if he tilted his head down a bit, the top of his straw hat would bump against your hair. His expression was calm... a lot calmer than you felt. The two of you quietly held eye contact, and the skylark continued to sing.

... Suddenly, and with no apparent trigger, you felt immensely flustered by the proximity. You pulled back, shuffling, unceremoniously dragging yourself to your feet and brushing off your pants. Your head popped up above the grass; immediately, some tiny birds scattered up and away, sun shining into your eyes.

“I should head home.” You were messing needlessly with your hair. “Dinner isn’t going to make itself.”

Sans looked up at you, for a few silent moments. You couldn’t read his face at all, the only thing you knew was that his smile was very soft.

“agh, i should head out too,” he eventually said, not standing, but folding his arms behind his head and stretching. “need to get home. pap probably thinks i fell into a ditch.”

You put your hands on your hips. “Then you can finally rest, after a long hard day of skipping your chores?”

He chuckled. “why of course.”

“Pft. Say hi to Papyrus for me.”

“sure thing. later, doll.”

With that, you headed back across the field, leaving Sans to pretend to wake up. Knowing him he had probably laid down and gone straight back to sleep.

... You put your hand over your chest, now that you were out of sight, trying to still your fluttering heart. It wasn’t really any use.

The more time you spent with Sans, the more you realised you were falling for him.

///---///

Sans watched you walk away, the golden light catching in your hair.

... He sighed, stretching again, before finally actually dragging himself to his feet. The green flush became more prominent on his face as he stopped to watch a skylark hovering just over the grass before tilting its wings and dancing away.

He’d been completely serious about the stargazing. Once again, you thought he was joking, his own persona had bitten him in the ass. He’d wanted to tell you as you were leaving - he’d wanted to finally put his foot down and make a date out of it, ask you when you were free and do what he’d been dreaming of doing for weeks. 

But just like always, when you’d looked at him, he’d completely fallen to pieces. The words had gotten stuck in his nonexistent throat. And by the time he’d shaken himself out of his stupor, you were already leaving.

Sans just sighed, adjusting his hat. 

“... next time,” he hummed. "there's always next time."

With that, he shortcutted home.

#commissions #GOD hes so handsome and lovely and i would live with him forever #he makes the cottagecore dream all that more reachable

[malarign]

please don’t yell at me

(when you cry after he raised his voice on you)

contains: idolbf!Sunghoon x fem!reader | genre: angst with a fluffy ending | tw! arguing, raising voice, crying, accusing of cheating, kissing (or maybe making out) lmk if i missed anything! | wc: 0,8k

reblogs, likes and comments are highly appreciated!!!

author’s note: i don’t really have the energy or motivation to post lately, so just enjoy this old draft i wrote a while ago 🫶 i promise the next thing i’ll write will be the heeseung request from a while ago (sorry anon 😅)

In contrast to the ride home, your voices were echoing with anger in your apartment in a heated argument. Having enough of the tension between you two you decided to finally bring up the touchy subject that had been avoided for way too long, which was Sunghoon slowly drifting apart from you.

You tried to understand him for a very long time now; their first tour just ended, and they still had lots of work to prepare for their new album and comeback. It had been weeks if not months since you actually felt close to him for more time than that one date he took you on during this time. But you didn’t want dates, you didn’t expect anything big knowing how much work he had, all you asked was just a little bit of his attention and affection. Yet he seemed so preoccupied with his work he couldn’t spare you at least one hug that lasted longer than half a minute. And when he brushed your hand off of his shoulder when you tried to hug him after his dance practice you just snapped, not minding 6 other pairs of eyes that watched the scene with horror in them.

And here you were arguing like you never did before in your long-term relationship.

“You really had to make a scene next to the guys, right? Who are you, a baby? Everything has to revolve around you, y/n?” Sunghoon asked highly irritated, after slamming the front door behind him.

“Revolve around me? You can’t be serious.” You raised your eyebrows at his words in pure shock. “Sunghoon how can anything revolve around me when you literally don’t spare me any of your attention?”

“Oh please, you’re going overboard about it.” Sunghoon rolled his eyes and watched with his arms crossed as you paced the floor.

“No, I’m not! I can’t even remember when you genuinely hugged or kissed me. I can’t remember when was the last time I felt loved by you! All you do is go to work, come home late, and leave for work again. Sometimes I doubt you still love me, because all you love is your work, or maybe you love somebody new?” you asked, not knowing how your words wounded his sensibilities.

“Enough!” Sunghoon burst out. He didn’t realize how the impact and volume of his voice affected you. All he saw was how your eyes slowly disappeared under thick tears that now cascaded down your cheeks. His expression softened and his lips parted in shock at the sight. It happened. His worst nightmare happened. He made you cry and didn’t know how to fix this situation. He froze as he stood when he raised his voice and watched as you turn around and close the bathroom door behind you.

You slid down on the floor and sobbed your heart out. Feeling pathetic you thought of all those years of your beautiful relationship full of love and communication and what it had become. For the last months, you were nothing like the couple everybody envied. Now it was you who envied yourself from a year ago.

Does it mean he really found somebody new? Were you really going overboard with this situation? And maybe you were selfish for not helping him while he worked hard for his and his bandmate’s future.

Your train of thought was stopped when the bathroom door opened revealing Sunghoon. He hunkered down next to you and you looked at him. His eyes were just as puffy as yours, filled with regret and love. He hesitantly opened his arms inviting you into his embrace. You hugged him tightly and sobbed uncontrollably, choking out quietly: “Please don’t yell at me”.

Your words and tone broke his heart, the thought of you being scared of him crossing his mind. He brushed it off and left a long kiss on your forehead to soothe your pain.

“I’m so sorry, my love. I will never raise my voice at you again. I promise.”

Both of you cried on the cold bathroom floor until he pulled away and dried up your cheeks. He looked you in the eyes seeing a glimpse of a smile in their corners.

“I’m sorry for accusing you of cheating. And I’m sorry in general. I know how hard you work,” you admitted taking his hands in yours.

“No, love, just because I work hard doesn’t give me the authority to be an asshole to my girlfriend. I’m sorry for pushing you away and distancing from you,” Sunghoon rubbed his thumbs on the palms of your hands as he spoke.

You raised your hand and cupped his cheek, smiling as he melted at the feeling of your touch. You leaned in to give him a short peck on his lips but landed on his lap when he pulled you closer by the waist, plunging into a tears-salty and heated kiss. Both of you needed that kind of intimacy, hands wandering on your bodies searching for that one spot. You pulled away, to take a breath and he whined at the loss of contact.

“Sunghoon,” you called out his name drawing his attention. He looked at you, eyes opened wide waiting for what you wanted to tell him. “Let’s not argue again. Like ever.”

He smiled coming closer to you, lips brushing your skin as he whispered: “Of course, my love.”

thank you for reading! back to the masterlist

#enhypen x reader #sunghoon #sunghoon x reader #enhypen #enhypen angst #enhypen imagine #enhypen fic #sunghoon enhypen #enhypen x y/n #enhypen x you #sunghoon imagines #sunghoon fic #sunghoon x y/n #enhypen sunghoon #park sunghoon #sunghoon x you

[mercuriians]

do you feel like a young god?

synopsis ☆ blade wishes that his path had never collided with yours.

content info — NSFW (minors stay away 😡 i'm warning you), angst angst angst, fem! reader, regular fic but with a twist on the format. violence at the very end so be aware of that.

word count — 2.1k words.

author's note — this has been in my drafts forever. normally i don't write angst but i was listening to halsey's badlands album & it instantly gave birth to this fic. the entire album is so blade coded that it hurts. anyways this is just 100% pain and smut, there is no comfort. nonetheless i hope you enjoy this drabble and its unplanned christmas theme (i apologize in advance 😓) ALSO i'm working on reqs as we speak i swear

BLADE has never had time to entertain romantic affairs, or even indulge in spontaneous sexual encounters. such matters reeked of the kind of superficial sentimentality that he's long discarded due to its blatant, disgusting lack of appeal. since he’s remembered, all he’s ever really wanted is to taste death, to be enrobed within its earnest invitation and to finally relieve himself of his all-consuming burden. there was no room for anything else—especially something as trivial as fulfilling the human heart’s wishes.

YOU didn't plan to get involved with the agenda of the stellaron hunters, but perhaps your hopes were ultimately futile when your older sister was their very leader. really, what's funny was the fact that even though you two were related by blood, and were raised together, you only shared two traits: a sharp gaze tinted with magenta and the useful gift of perception. otherwise, you might as well have been nameless strangers. you were kind, forgiving, and preferred to heal rather than harm; kafka was the complete opposite, her manicured fingers gleefully stained with scarlet.

BLADE remembers finding himself in an unusual state of confusion when he had first met you. your appearance in itself contrasted against your team members; whereas they wore dark shades of black, purple, and red, you were clad in smooth clothes of pure silver, which didn’t make sense since they would end up dirtied and tainted either way. he remembers disapproving of your very presence because you seemed entirely unfit to fulfill your job—to kill mercilessly and to follow elio's script without an ounce of remorse or hesitation. "you don't belong here," he'd sneered, his vexation only increasing when he saw the docile smile you'd given him in response.

YOU weren't ever truly angered by the blatant acts of disrespect that blade displayed during the earliest stages of your connection. some would argue that you possessed the patience of a saint, and though you wouldn't exactly disprove such a claim, you'd say that it extended far beyond that. there was something you saw behind the scarlet hue of blade's gaze, something that lain dormant behind all the hostility. for a reason unknown, you soon grew the desire to discover it, and to maybe in turn help the man in some way. it didn't matter if a part of your soul had to be sacrificed—you would do it.

BLADE found it all too easy to decline your attempts. it was a continuous, repetitive process, where you’d seek him out and offer a few questions that seemed unassuming at first, and he’d respond by pointing out the obvious holes ruining your facade. he didn’t know why you were suddenly so eager to uncover information about him—or, to “properly acquaint yourself” as you’d innocently described it—but he didn’t care either way because it wasn’t worth trying to. at least those were the words he told himself for the first four months.

YOU managed to break down the weakest parts of blade’s walls by the fifth month. it was slow, and arduous, and yes, a bit frustrating—hearing him curse you out wasn’t really a motivating experience—but ultimately your efforts prevailed in the end. finally, if only a little bit, he opened up to you, and he began giving short but actual responses instead of a mere grunt or a simple click of the tongue. and so he started filling in small snippets about himself. how he found pleasure in the familiarity of a sword. how he despised the way your sister called him ‘bladie.’ how kuding tea was one of his preferred drinks. how he couldn’t remember the last time he dreamt in his slumber.

BLADE was rather astounded by the change in behavior you seemed to have withdrawn from him. at first he denied the reality and brushed off the occurrence as him simply taking the easier route, so that he didn’t continue to waste unnecessary effort on dodging your pesky questions. but here was the truth—he wasn’t lazy, ever. he always did things for a reason, always justified his actions with some kind of logic, no matter how immoral. something strange was happening, and he wasn’t entirely sure why, but he still tried to maintain a form of apathetic distance. blade convinced himself that things were remaining strictly professional. even as his pale hands somehow found themselves entangled within your soft hair during one stormy night, and even as his chapped lips pressed against yours.

YOU were surprised but not at all unwelcoming of the unorthodox suggestion that blade gave you one day. in a tone that betrayed no emotion, he asked—well, perhaps demanded—that you two enter a sort of arrangement that he called “being each other’s respective stress relief.” in a more straightforward, explicit manner, you two would use each other for physical pleasure whenever needed. that was where the intimacy started, and it was where it ended. with your heart beating a bit more than it should have, you agreed. blade smiled—a small, predatory kind of smile—before engulfing you in a harsh kiss, backing you into the wall as his hand squeezed around your neck.

BLADE relished the sounds that he was able to elicit from you—sweet, pretty little moans, desperate, high-pitched whines, and of course, the breathless mantra of his own name. every ounce of it made him swell with smug pride, and made his cock harden even more. your eyes would shut tightly whenever you felt particularly overwhelmed with pleasure, and of course he’d always force you to open them. after all he needed you to see just how much of a slut you were for him, just how much he’d ruin you with the marks he’d leave all over your skin and the countless orgasms he’d trigger within you. somewhere in the very back of his mind, there was a faint voice that warned him of the territory he was threatening to cross, just barely short of touching the edge. but he ignored it in favor of savoring the depraved sense of exhilaration that electrified his veins, knowing that he was the one corrupting his colleague’s sweet, innocent, naive little sister.

YOU found your heart beating impossibly faster every time your lips met his, every time he quietly snuck into your quarters and whispered things that were only for you to hear. of course it was only inevitable that you fell in love with the man himself. long forgotten was your goal to solely fix him because in a strange, almost twisted way, it was like you were healing yourself with every scorching touch of his fingers, every relentless thrust of his hips. and for better or for worse, it felt like he was starting to care for you against all odds, and you saw it through the littlest of things. how his dull scarlet eyes seemed to brighten just for a second when he saw you, how he started to stay the night after he ravished you, how his fingers traced your beautifully bruised skin with an uncharacteristic gentleness when he thought you were asleep. you loved it, and soon his embrace was the only thing you learned to crave.

BLADE seemed like he was caught in a peculiar trance ever since you two had agreed to the "stress relief" arrangement. it was unimaginable, really—or at least it should have been. not once had he felt such unbridled emotion for a woman, or for any person in general. he detested the sensation at first. hated how vulnerable it made him feel. so, whenever he felt particularly exposed, whenever you smiled at him for too long, he used your body as a distraction. he'd mark your skin as if he was nothing more than a mindless animal, would pin both your wrists above your head as he snarled, hips smacking against yours. the strategy would work for some time, but the moment he saw you fall into a peaceful slumber—exhausted from all the rigorous activity—the emotions would come rushing at him again, full force. soon there was a voice at the back of his mind, whispering of how he was falling into a trap. one that he had arrogantly, unknowingly set for himself.

YOU started to feel a shift in blade's behavior, noticing how he became more distant as the days passed. your conversations shortened and shortened until they became almost reminiscent of the ones you'd have at the beginning of your relationship. your nightly sessions dwindled in frequency, eventually reaching the point where he barely even knocked on your door at all. all of it drove you to the brink of insanity, worry consuming every ounce of your being until you couldn't handle it anymore. "what the hell?" you had hissed, pulling the man aside once silver wolf and your sister had retreated to their quarters for the night. "why won't you talk to me, blade? what did i do?" but even that didn't work. all he did was scoff and push past your figure, shaking off your grip when you reached out for him. the next day, you were so distraught that, in a fit of desperation, you asked your sister for help. but the only thing you received was a look of warped pity and an obscure comment. "once the candle burns out, the room grows dark again." kafka murmured.

BLADE couldn't handle any of it anymore, his seemingly endless endurance having reached past its limit. he hated the way you looked at him in confusion and anger, and most of all, betrayal, as if he had stabbed you in the back. he might as well have. but above that, he hated the way you reminded him of his curse's weight. in another life, he had thought of immortality as a gift—a gleaming trophy awarded only to those who had gone above and beyond to prove their superiority. how foolish he had been. immortality was a burden, its pressure so insurmountable that it felt heavier than holding up the sky itself. from the very beginning, he'd known that being immortal meant that he'd have to watch the people around him fall prey to death's embrace, but somehow that simple fact evaded his mind when he—it still pains him to admit this—developed feelings for you. he wasn't quite sure if what he felt was love in its raw form, but he was pretty damn certain that it was the closest he was going to ever get. because as selfishly and disgustingly sentimental as it was, the last thing he wanted was to see you wither with age, until you were nothing more than another corpse. and so with a shaky breath, and an unstable heart, he decided to handle the situation in the only way he knew how to.

the truth was that YOU truly were one of the most perceptive people out there, even as heartbreak dulled your senses. so you heard the muted footsteps and saw the swiftly approaching shadow. you knew who it was, even without sparing a glance. still, you remained motionless, your movements almost painfully frozen as your eyes slid shut. tears silently rolled down your face, staining your skin even before the sword pierced through your chest. crimson seeped through your silver blouse like ink on a blank canvas. you fell to the ground, exhaling unshakily, unrivaled pain blooming within every inch of your body. you felt the strength being drained from your spirit, but you mustered the will to meet blade's scarlet gaze. "guess i should have expected this, huh?" you murmur, fingers moving to feel where he'd stabbed you. silently, blade crouched down to your level, his expression unreadable. you reached for his hand, neither of you flinching when his skin became stained with your blood.

"all of this was a mistake," BLADE muttered, tone betraying not even an ounce of emotion. still, he kept his fingers intertwined with yours, and that action alone was enough. "my fate is already determined, but you sealed your own the second you approached me." the wind was cold and unforgiving around the two of you, its invisible talons recklessly combing through the man's ebony strands of hair. but blade paid it no mind, not even when a particularly harsh gust threatened to overwhelm your last words. and as time would tell, those were the very words that would haunt him in the future.

"i'd seal my fate over and over if it meant that i'd see you happy again." you whispered, and for once you failed to notice one crucial detail.

for the first and last time, blade's vision grew blurry from his tears.

#honkai star rail #hsr fanfic #hsr x reader #hsr blade #blade honkai #blade x reader #blade smut #hsr smut #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail fanfic #hsr angst #blade angst #hsr kafka #kafka honkai star rail #hsr silver wolf #silver wolf hsr #✎— ❝devon writes❞

[rougecreator1]

Hi! How are you doing? I was hoping I could request something with Poly!plastics x reader? After Cady gets brought into the plastics, the reader gets insecure and thinks that her girlfriends will replace her with Cady. She tries to hide it but after the three of talk about Cady on date night she snaps. How you end it is up to you, I was want Poly!plastics x reader to be endgame. Thank you 💘

Insecurities

omg im actually obsessed with this idea

|| poly!plastics x fem!reader

(i myself am poly)

|| Warnings: talks of insecurities, feeling leftout/replaced, some swearing, slight bullying of Cady (sorta?)

|| Summary: Reader feels left out when Cady joins the group: the girls don't notice right away. When date night rolls around and all they seem to talk about is Cady, Reader can't take it.

Requests open!

My requests are open, I'm just only writing when I have motivation to right now so it may take time for me to get to them. Like I think this fic almost took me a month to finish 🥲

~~~

To say you weren't happy about Cady joining the group would be... an understatement. You felt like all your girlfriends attention was suddenly on the new girl. You hate feeling left out and that's exactly how they were making you feel, even if they didn't realize it.

The five of you sat together at your usual lunch seat, Gretchen and Cady were talking, Karen was kind of just listening to them and occasionally throwing in some comment, Regina was focused on her cheese fries. You? You sat there awkwardly. Awkward around your own girlfriends because of Cady. The fact that none of them were even trying to talk to you. You couldn't take it.

You suddenly stood, holding your lunch tray. Which got their attention. You were about to leave when Karen called your name.

"Y/N? Where are you going?" Karen asked, a slight frown on her lips. You try to hide your insecurities and force out a smile, Gretchen narrows her eyes at you. She could always tell when something was off.

"I was just going to the bathroom." You state.

"With your lunch?" Karen looked confused.

You looked down at the lunch tray in your hands and then glanced at Cady, who was looking at you with concern while you were trying to hide the jealousy in your eyes.

"Oh, um, no I'm not hungry so I was gonna go throw it out then go to the bathroom." You quickly came up with a response, racking your brain for something that made sense. Though now you had to actually throw out your lunch and, truthfully, you weren't really all that hungry. So you felt fine with the lie.

Regina raised an eyebrow at you and seemed to share some look with Gretchen.

You ignored them and followed through with your lie. Heading to the nearest garbage, dumping your tray then putting the now empty tray with the rest before going to the bathroom. There you locked yourself in one of the stalls and sighed deeply, leaning against the back of the door.

Maybe you could have tried a little more to be social. But you didn't feel like you could connect with anything they were talking about. Cady had mostly been leading the conversation. You didn't quite know how to interact with her yet. The two of you didn't have anything in common, that you knew of. So it just always felt awkward to even try.

~~~

It was later that night, you and your girlfriends had planned a date that you'd been working on for months. You were excited it was finally happening. You were going to the theatres and then after all of you would dine at a fancy five star restaurant, all paid for by Regina though the rest of you did chip in what you could. Much to Regina's disliking. She loves spoiling her girls. fight me

As the four of you sat at the table, waiting for your food you found yourself just listening to the conversation again. Not being apart of it. They were talking about Cady. On date night. Fucking Cady. It made your chest twist and heart ache. You couldn't help but feel like in the short amount of time that Cady's been there she's replaced you. The feeling was killing you. You couldn't sit with it anymore. Before you could stop yourself...

"Seriously? Can't you guys shut up about Cady for one second? It's date night! This is supposed to be about us. Not her." You snapped, the table went quiet and their eyes were on you. Confusion quickly replaced with concern. Which then made you the confused one until you realized you were crying. When did you start crying?

"Oh my God!" Gretchen says, quickly reaching across the table and grabbing your hands. The four of you were situated so Regina sat next to you, Karen across from Regina, Gretchen next to Karen and across from you." We're so sorry, we didn't even..." She looks at Karen and then at Regina with a frown, clearly none of them had realized how you felt. Gretchen thought she had picked up on something weird earlier today, she didn't know if she had been overthinking that look you gave Cady but it turns out she was right. Gretchen sighs.

Regina drapes an arm around your waist and pulls you in close to her side, her nails trailing through your hair as she looks at you with a look you couldn't quite figure out. "Are you jealous?" Regina was always more blunt. Even with you.

"I don't... well, it's not really jealousy.. jealousy is definitely a part of it but it's like- I feel like Cady's replacing me." You try to explain your thoughts with a little struggle. There were so many going through your head that it was hard to jump on a single train of thought. So they all mixed together a bit when you spoke.

The three glance around at each other, seeming to have some silent conversation. Regina speaks up first. Her hold on your waist tightening a little but not in a way that was uncomfortable to you.

"Why the fuck would we replace you with her?"

You pause and blink, looking at Regina in confusion. You thought her and the others had been really close with Cady. You were so sure of it too. To hear Regina immediately dismiss the thought, it definitely surprised you. Were they not as close as you had assumed?

"What?" You reply, your confusion showing on your face. By now the tears had stopped flowing but the streaks remained.

"Why do you think we would replace you with Cady? We don't actually like her. We've been making fun of her." Regina states simply. That was news to you. They never really included you in their kittle schemes because they knew it wasn't your style, they respected that. Though sometimes you'd hear the stories.

"But you gave Cady those shoes?" Your head was beginning to hurt trying to figure all this out. If they didn't like Cady why was she even in the group? It didn't make sense to you.

"Because we thought it would be hilarious watching her try to walk in them. And it was." Regina shrugged, a slight smirk on her face as she glanced over at Gretchen.

Karen looked about as confused as you," wait. We don't like Cady?"

"Honey..." Gretchen looked at Karen with a soft gaze and rested one of her hands on her lower back, keeping the other in your hand.

Regina brought her focus back to you and kissed you deeply, hand moving from your waist to rest under your chin before she breaks the kiss. Smirking against your lips as she looks into your eyes.

"Better?" She whispered, you nodded your head. A blush coated your cheeks as you stared back into the blonde's eyes. She always managed to leave you speechless.

The rest of the date went by smoothly, your girls focused on making sure you were the center of attention for the entire date. Including you in conversation, always finding some way to touch you. By the time the four of you got to Regina's room, you were exhausted as you let yourself collapse onto her bed. Gretchen giggled as she watched you and was the first to lay down beside you, wrapping you in her arms and pulling you close. Karen came down on your other side, doing the same. Making sure her arms wrapped around both you and Gretchen. Regina took a picture of the three of you and posted it to Insta before joining you guys in bed. Fully laying herself on top of you with her arms around your hips as she planted a soft kiss to your jawline; which got a hum out of you in response. The four of you remained cuddled up with each other until you feel asleep.

Feeling much better than you did at the start of the day.

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