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luvlyhyunjin · 2 days

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Fifty-Three - I was made for loving you.

warnings: mentions of weight, disordered eating. wc; 4.9k

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Hyunjin doesn’t get to think about how he ends up in front of your door, doesn’t get to comprehend the impulsive thoughts invading his mind. Not when he’s only known himself as a follower, so he follows, he follows where he knows you’ll be and maybe that’s why when he’s faced with his reality, he’s only capable of blaming you. For the ache in his heart, the fire he feels running alongside his blood and the recklessness coated by love that douses his actions. He blames you for everything even when his dignity curls by the corner and it disdained him. Weak, was it his lack of power or his faux hatred for you?

He tells himself he should leave, the small remaining bone of logical thinking tells him, screams that this is a bad idea, and he wholeheartedly agrees but his legs won’t listen to him, stubbornly glued to the floors of your familiar doorway in desperation and whispers of ‘I love you’s that had fallen from your lips right into his heart on this same spot. He sees it all, the phantoms of you kissing and then you’re smiling at him with your honey-soaked lips, dripping with unyielding affection that only ever manifests for him, in front of him as you tell him.

“I’ll wait for you,” and he feels like crying, or maybe he feels more like dying. He’ll ask you to bury him with your hands, right next to your dead flowers of love. Perhaps only then you’ll be able to witness the pain your name leaves on his heart, its scratched and blue. but he still misses you and it’s nothing less than pathetic. Mundane madness.

If he’s not allowed to die then he wishes he could break free of this leftover self-respect and allow himself to break down at your door, ugly and valiant and filled with piteous desires that you’ll take him. Right into your arms and through the gates of your so-called heaven. If he’s not allowed to die then he’ll kneel and beg you for an escape from you, any sort of drug that will help him numb you. maybe if you allow him to become one with you, mesh himself with your bones and your blood he will feel nothing but love for you, maybe if you drive him further into his awaited craziness this will all be okay, and he won’t have to see you whenever he closes his eyes.

It’s a maybe followed by another maybe and maybe and he feels nothing but overflowing pain the longer he stands here.

You’re nothing but hell so how come his heart has grown to be a masochist? yearning to be burned by your gentle wandering touches.

He wonders if his masculine pride is getting secondhand embarrassment of his soul crushing devotion for you. However, his thoughts are stuck on that point when you open the door as if somehow you knew he’s waiting outside. You’re shrouded in one of his old hoodies, one that he forgot behind when he packed his stuff and didn’t have the courage to face you once more to ask for it back. Or perhaps it’s simply a purposeful blunder to leave you with a piece of him in hopes it will haunt you.

His gaze is somber as they study the dark circles under your eyes and the red rimming your once glowing eyes, evidence of the tears that you shed not long ago. You’re pale, almost sickeningly so, fragile, and thinner than he had ever seen you. a part of him is almost glad he’s not the only one withering away with your dying garden of love.

“Hyunjin...” you’re the first to speak, in opposite to his, your gaze is surprised mimicking your tone. He doesn’t look like himself, but rather a ghost of what was once him. He’s the same man who crawled into your bed at night, the same man who littered kisses down your neck yet it’s not him. It was an ebbing version of him, one that had similar darkening circles to yours, exhaustion that had his back curved in a slouch, evidence of yet another crime you committed, a knife plunged into his heart and his blood on your hands. It makes you sick to your stomach.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, softly and tentatively.

And he closes his eyes at your voice, hoping it’s enough to cover the ears of his heart. To block out the reminiscences of you and how your voice manages to pull him right into the field of you he tries so hard to run away from. But everything leads back to you, in hindsight he’s sure you’ve made your mark on his fate like a plague. He has no choice but to be an extension of you, roaming around in hopes to be reunited with his home one day.

When he opens them, pain torrents from your eyes and he feels like glass, not like the expensive little statues you have around your apartment, but rather cheap, debilitated and easily broken with the delicacy you’re covered in when you call his name. No one will ever call him this softly, no one could ever be as cruel as you.

“Is it true?” he asks, ignoring your question because there’s no logical answer he could give. There’s no answer that won’t break him.

“w-what is true?” you ask. Voice weakened by your quiet nerves.

“Is it true that your dad is setting you up on dates and you agreed?” The frost in his voice melts as he spits each syllable out, replaced with unjust anger.

“Who told you this?”

“Does it fucking matter? Just tell me if it’s true or not.”

You grow quiet, your silence only plunges the knife further into his heart and the way your eyebrows furrow in a way too familiar conquest. Your futile attempts to string together a sentence is like grey clouds collecting above his head, leaving him foggy and stormy. So, he scoffs.

“So, was it all lies again? Your whole speech about how you’ll never give up on us how you’ll keep trying. It all meant nothing to you, didn’t it?”

“you’re being unfair Hyunjin.” You shake your head, a fresh set of tears collects in your waterline, and it only angers him, pushes him further into the abyss. He’s overwhelmed with the emotions raining on him “Am I supposed to sit still and wait for you forever when you’ve made it so clear you don’t want me anymore?” It’s all lies because deep down you know you will wait for him forever if you need to.

Sadness, anger, disappointment, it’s an endless symphony of terror that has him locked up and the key is in your hands. You’re refusing to let up and he refuses to come undone before your eyes.

“Do you want to know what’s fucking unfair Y/N?” you look away, the pain taking claim in his iris is enough to have you choking, it’s excruciating so your eyes run away but then he’s all up in your face, ruthless fingers gripping your jaw as he forces you to face him.

“Placing bets on people’s heart as if they’re puppets and not human beings,” his breath hits your cheek like little knifes and each one scratches with ferocious hatred “lying to me while looking me straight in the eye, playing games behind my back when I asked you time and time if there’s anything I should know about.” You sob, overwhelmingly ashamed and unable to keep eye contact with him, you try to break away from his grip, try to look away from his fiery gaze but it’s all useless when it only tightens around your jaw.

“Breaking my heart again when I so willingly handed it to you with so much trust in you.” your heart falls apart at the way his words weakened towards the end “That’s fucking unfair.” His anger is displaced by exasperation that has you shaking.

“I’m sorry Hyunjin. I want to explain myself I promise there’s so much more to everything than you think.”

He laughs, humorless and cruel. Your words remain woefully inadequate, and it only has him dwindling further into his disappointment and he grows to feel idiotic, for coming here, for thinking he has any sort of authority over your actions. He’s only driven by his anger and longing for you, and he resents it. His grip on you loosens, and when he goes to take a step back, he’s stopped by your fingers circling his wrist.

“I never meant to break your heart, jinnie.”

“But you fucking did Y/N! it doesn’t matter what you meant to do, don’t you get it?” his tone rises, breaking towards the end and rendering you the same kind of broken.

“Okay yes, I did! I wish I didn’t, but I did. I get that but you can’t keep blaming me when you won’t even listen to me.”

“This is fucking stupid.” he chuckles incredulously, running his hand through his hair and then he’s shaking his head in disbelief.

“Forget it.” He spits then swivels away from you, abandoning his heart alongside his dignity.

But he doesn’t get to make it far, doesn’t even take the first step down because the sound of your body breaking down and your knees hitting the ground is enough for him to look back at you in panic, the vision of your limbs weakened on the floor is enough to have him rushing by your side.

“Y/N.” his arms are around your shoulders; your labored breaths have his eyes widening in worry.

“what’s wrong?” he questions; eyes raking through your features anxiously.

Your eyes have gone hazy, pupils dilating as they lose focus and it sets his soul ablaze with crippling fear, with a trembling absentminded cradle of your cheek “baby, can you hear me? come on focus on me.” He’s tapping your cheek gently, slightly panicking as his other hand rubs soothing circles on your back and you blink at him, regaining some of your fumbled mind.

“I-I’m sorry I just felt a little dizzy and my head was spinning-“

“Shh it’s okay.” He lets out a breath of relief when your eyes focus on him, blinking rapidly “when was the last time you eaten?” his voice is gentle in complete contrast to how he was speaking moments ago, breaking through the collecting clouds in your eyes. He pulls you to his chest, gathers you in his arms and despite the aching in your body you could only think about the familiar scent of peaches invading your senses. The comfort of his warm embrace has you clutching onto his shirt desperately.

“I don’t remember.” You murmur, you feel cold sweat collecting at the roots of your hair, your limbs growing weaker as if they weigh nothing.

“For fuck’s sake Y/N.” his warm palm that rests at your forehead brings a comfort akin to fresh air that you desperately breath in “can you stand up?” Despite the bells ringing in your ears, you still manage to nod, or at least you think you do even if you’re not sure with how lightheaded you’re feeling.

When he helps you stand up your words are meaningless as your body slumps into him, weak and drained of energy, without saying a word he takes it upon himself to carry you inside. The alarming lightness of your body as if carrying a singular feather has his heart tightening. You’re somewhat present yet not fully there when you press your face into his neck, your tears sting against his skin, burn him and he’s sure you’ll only leave another mark of yours on his body.

“I’m sorry,” you kept crying into his neck and Hyunjin doesn’t know what to say, not when his heart hammers against his ribcage begging for an escape from you, you who once was his sanctuary. Who is he supposed to find solace in when the cause of his heartbreak lies between his arms?

You don’t remember much of what happens after, you only remember flowing out of consciousness when he placed you on your couch, the familiar cushions are comfortable against your body, his presence brings ease to your loud mind and it quietens it for mere minutes that are enough for you to fall asleep, for the first time in a while. You can’t recall It perfectly, but you swear you felt Hyunjin’s colder hand in yours.

When you wake up it’s 9 p.m. The scent of cooked soup, specifically chicken soup erupts from your kitchen, filling the space of your small apartment and has your stomach growling in hunger. A dull ache has latched itself on your every muscle as if you’re a corpse who just gotten back to life. You run a tired hand over your face, a headache starts to form as soon as you sit up.

“you’re awake,” Hyunjin’s voice startles you, have not noticed him standing there. Eyes locked on you and you only nod in response. Your throat is parched.

“Water?” he asks when he notices your lingering silence and you nod, averting your eyes as he disappears back into your kitchen. When he’s back there’s a tray between his hands, carrying a glass of water and a bowl of what you assume to be the soup you smelled.

“Here.” He mumbles, a tinge of awkwardness clings to his fingers as he brings the glass to your lips, your eye contact has you feeling lightheaded for reasons other than the lack of food in your system. His thumb rubs circles on the insides of your thigh as you sip diligently. His touch has you almost doubling over for more, your longing expands and takes space over every cell in your body.

You miss him more than you miss breathing in air.

“Thank you,” you finally reply as he places the now empty glass back on the table, he doesn’t say anything back and instead pushes the tray of food towards you “eat.” His tone is banal, he avoids the longing in your glance, yet this thumb remains in its place, spreading the warmth of something you know is counterfeit. It has your throat tightening.

“How did you make this?” you ask as you swirl your spoon around the bowl.

“I had to go grocery shopping. Why is your house so empty Y/N?” He’s not looking for an answer so you don’t give him one. Instead, you busy yourself with eating as silence settles in between you two.

Hyunjin keeps his gaze locked on the dark screen of your tv and you force yourself to find a domestic alleviation in the act. In the quietness that is nowhere near as comfortable as it once was, in the rigid lines of harshness on his face. It’s all a charade, you’re aware of it but you pretend that there’s still love in these walls, in the couch you both are sitting on and it’s not filled with disappointment as it witness the growing distant between you two.

“Good?” he asks when you set your half empty bowl back on the tray.

“mhm,” you murmur, your eyes studying the side of his face and the longer he refuses to look at you the deeper your agony settles into your soul, a remorse nestled into the bit of your stomach and you could see it all when your hands reaches for his slender fingers and his body tenses as if your bodies didn’t belong together.

The walls of your living room laugh in mockery when your fingers squeeze his, lucky enough to witness this pitiful parody of what was real once. What you killed. But you never got time for it, instead Hyunjin is somehow sitting next to you, filled with quiet resentment for himself and then for you and thirdly for this foolish thing we like to call love.

“I’m so sorry about everything Hyunjin.” you say, hardly audible.

“You should be feeling sorry for your body Y/N.”

“I don’t care about my body, any sort of emotion that runs through my body is for you. it’s because of you.”

“Why did you do it then? Why did you have to kill us so brutely?” when he looks at you, you feel your heart constricting in your chest, longing for comfort that only exists within his fingertips.

“I was stupid,” you admit through swallowing down the lump forming in the center of your throat “I was jealous, and it brought out the worst in me. I had never seen you with a girl before and I just- “you suck a deep breath in, the stupidity of your actions dawns on you the longer you try to explain.

Your eyes comb over his features, the anguish clouding his iris has you melting away in the blues of your rushed decisions.

“It killed me knowing you might have fallen for someone other than me.”

“So, you decided to punish someone innocent over the faults of our hearts?” you long for evidence of his adoring for you, searching the flickers of dark in his eyes for a missing piece that feels it has been snatched away from you. You’re disappointed when you can’t find anything, it’s blank.

Who knew a simple feeling could alter someone’s gaze this much.

“I fucked up, I know I did.” Your voice breaks with anxiety at the thought of losing him “at first it was just that but when I found out that her mom was my dad’s mistress it only got worse.”

Hyunjin lets out a breath of disbelief but doesn’t complain when your nails start digging into his palm, a pathetic claim to cling onto him.

“It felt like she kept taking everyone from me it was you first, then my dad and then my mom kept comparing me to her I just felt like I wasn’t enough, yet no one was feeling my pain.” A small whimper escapes your lips, one that is filled with enough despair to has him shutting his eyes and his teeth latching painfully around his lower lip, as if trying to prevent himself from saying anything.

“I was in so much pain I just wanted to hurt everyone else around me and specifically her. She was everything that I wanted to be. Everything that everyone wanted me to be, but I was nothing but a failure that longed for your love. I was too much of a coward to say it.” You take a deep breath in, your fingers tremble between his, and you feel like an ugly monster who taints everything it touches red with fiery and resentment, it flows from your fingertips.

You feel like nothing but a weakling destruction, an abandoned ground of all the people you could have become.

“I know it’s not right if I could go back and change it trust me I would. I hate myself for it every day, I can’t even look at myself in the mirror for what I did. I was punishing her for something she didn’t even do. I was filled with hatred and anger towards the world, and I took it out on her.”

A winding coil is waiting to snap behind your eyes when Hyunjin frees his hands from you, a shaky exhale escapes and he stands up, you feel him slipping through your fingers, see the fragments of him leaving you once again. It has an unmistakable tightness pulling at your chest. Anxiety, a monster known to make an appearance simultaneity with your darkening thoughts. It snaps when a pregnant silence follows as Hyunjin paces relentlessly before you from left to right as if trying to make sense of your words.

Regret, a color you were so familiar with, has been painted in so many times but this darkening shade you’re drowning in right now doesn’t even compare to anything you’ve felt ever before. It something so much more. A colossal amount that has painful tears cascading down your cheeks in a silent plea.

“I wanted to call it off, but Yeosang didn’t want to. He started threatening me with telling you everything and back then i-I just wasn’t ready to relive the pain of what happened with Seungmin once again.” You wince, your hands shake as your heart grows heavier with every word, with every step of his “When i-I was ready everything came crashing down and it was too late. I wanted to tell you so much sooner.”

“You don’t get it do you?” he finally speaks, voice doused with raw and unfiltered betrayal. You’re only brought back to life to be killed once again “It’s the fact that you did it in the first place that breaks my heart Y/N.”

You open your mouth to respond but no words make appearance in your mind, it’s all blank and misplaced judgments “I don’t know when you became this person. This is not the person I fell in love with. I knew you had your flaws, but I thought you were changing, I thought you left it all behind,” His eyes are devoid of vibrancy as they stare you down, a manifestation of the sadness residing in his heart “I didn’t know what you were hiding in the dark was so much worse than I could ever imagine.”

“H-how do I make it better? How do I fix it?” Your legs hurt when you move to stand up before him, a throb in your body due to how weak you grew in few weeks of abandonment.

“I don’t know,” he whispers, looking away in yearning for a fleeting respite. It’s out of reach when your hand hesitates to touch him. Why does it pain him so much when your hands linger awkwardly between you two? As if you grew to be strangers in a few counted seconds.

“Please tell me how do I fix it.” You plead, voice hoarse as your tears run like an endless steam “I wish I could go back and never make that stupid bet. I wish I could go back and fight Seungmin properly-“

“Don’t bring him up.” His brows furrow and your heart sinks.

“I never wanted to sleep with him-“

“I know. I believe you.” He interrupts you again and you realize the darkness taking over his eyes, doused in pain, is not because of betrayal but rather unexpected. It’s the same entity that you know is etched all over your being too.

Regret.

“I never blamed you for anything that happened with Seungmin.” Your hand finally touches him, cups his cheek in lovingly manner like all the destined lovers are meant to hold each other, he leans into the soft skin of your palm in broken tenderness. A shaky fuck tumbles out of his lips. He hates how you manage to see through him without him uttering a single word. He hates how delicately you touch him, he hates how his heart is wounded because of you and yet bleeds with you, for you. How your sorrow has his anger disappearing into thin air as if it never existed. And he only aches for you, for all the pain you had to endure alone.

He hates that he can’t actually hate you.

“I couldn’t protect you.” He sounds shattered when he speaks, it shatters your soul with it.

“I’m sorry,” he says shakily, and, in that moment, you think you finally understand what’s it’s like to be absolutely broken, to feel pain run through your veins as if it’s your blood, as if it’s a part of you that won’t ever relent. You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him into you and he comes with ease, your face disappearing into the junction of his neck and shoulder “it’s okay, there’s nothing you could have done. It’s not your fault Hyunjin.” You speak against it, and he shakes in your embrace.

It was such an odd situation, to comfort the boy you filled with despair. It has reality sinking into you at that moment, the fact that the broken pieces of your relationship are much smaller, much sharper than you anticipated and you’re not sure how to pick them up without any of you two bleeding to death. The damage you left, the scars of your past, the unshed tears and all the broken promises are evidence of how you two are incompatible with your love. And it’s excruciating.

You pull away far enough to look at him, his eyes glisten with sorrowful water and you cradle his cheeks, wiping at the few drops that managed to escape “it’s okay.” You murmur, unsure if you’re trying to comfort him or yourself.

“I don’t know if anything will ever be okay again. I don’t know if we will ever be okay.”

“If I fix me then will you love me again?”

“Don’t talk as if you’re a mere object and not human.” He scolds and you feel as if your heart is being carved out of your chest at his care for you despite how wrong you are, how everything is your fault “It only pains me when you talk about yourself like this. When you starve yourself as a way to punish yourself.”

“What should I do then? How do I end your misery? Please tell me.”

“Bring back the girl I fell in love with. The one with infectious smiles and the gleam of the moon in her eyes,” His words hang over you like a gloomy cloud.

“Will you able to forgive me then?” you ask, sad and small.

“I don’t know.” He answers truthfully, an answer you weren’t looking forward to, and it feels like an arrow has been shot through your heart “but if you’re trying then I’m willing to try too.”

Hyunjin leaves soon after, a mountain of unspoken words lingers between you two. Nothing like the secrets you had kept till now, a foreign void forms in your heart and a rather bigger weight burdens your shoulders shrouded in your relationship that’s falling apart. Hanging by a thread that you’re holding onto as if it’s your lifeline. And that’s why you stop Hyunjin by your door. Both of your cheeks flushed and eyes puffy.

“I think I was made for loving you,” your words spill like an explosion that you cannot hold back, enamored by how your soul intertwines even when you’re refusing to touch “Even if you think we seem hopeless right in this moment, and I am only ever wrong and confused. I might be a fool who does not know anything but all I know is I was made for loving you so this is my last promise, I will try my best to make everything better, to be better.”

Hyunjin doesn’t say anything back, there’s no right answer that he could muster up so instead he saves your words in his pocket, and you capture the look of his dreary eyes swimming with endless adoration for you in your mind.

You know it’s true, you love him without being good for anything else.

It’s not until a week later that you see Hyunjin again, right as the first snow of the new year falls. You welcome winter with a dull ache that has spread through your soul. A tempest of memories curl in the folds of frigid winds. It dances through your hair and through his when you see him right outside of your apartment complex. A thick dark blue scarf looped multiple times around his neck, remains of half-finished cigarettes at his feet gives away his building nerves as he waited for a glimpse of you.

“Did you really mean it when you said you want to be better?” When he looks at you, you envision fragments of summer in him. Mere centimeters separate you.

“I meant every word.” Your voice is as soft as the ray of sunshine slipping through the grey clouds.

“I don’t know if there’s gonna come a day where I’ve fully forgiven you. I don’t know if there’s a way for my heart not to throb painfully as it calls your name,” a pause, enough to have you holding your breath when his dark eyes flit across yours “but I think I want to be next to you when it happens.”

He closes the small space between you two and stands before you, looking down at you as if you were 16 again in the middle of your school hallway, your last book ended with bloodshed and deep scars but that never means there’s no room for healing and when Hyunjin extends his hand to you, a youthful smile taking place on his face you feel the truth bloom in you. You see fate rewrites itself into new pages, scribbles of poetry that won’t have to be filled with lies and fearful tears.

“No more secrets?”

“No more secrets.” You answer, with a similar smile.

Despite the bitter winter you feel the warmth of sun seeps into your being when you take his hand in yours. It’s as sweet as peaches and embraces you in overwhelming comfort. a peaceful buzz that settles through the center of your heart, a fresh new color, so bright and foreign but more than anything welcomed.

It’s hopeful and it screams stay, stay, stay.

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l4zyb0n35 · 2 days

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THE BREAKING POINT

SMUT FIC

PAIRING: Alastor x F!Reader

SUMMARY: Y/N is a diligent worker, much to the chagrin of her partner, Alastor. Despite his efforts to get her to stop for both their sakes, Y/N remains steadfast in her duties. However, Alastor finds a loophole to this situation.

WARNINGS: Really really great awesome writing skills, Established romantic relationship, (can be seen as dating, fiancé, or married), AFAB reader, usage of Y/N, Sexual content (obv), Mature themes, Mature language, Nudity, Breastfeeding, Unprotected sex, MINORS DNI FOR UR OWN SAFTEY, Alastor manipulates her but only to get her to stop cleaning the hardwood floor, Alastor kinda controls her but not too much. Let me know if i missed anything :3

NOTICE: please don't copy or steal or translate any of my work or you will be haunted in your dreams and i will spawn something unpleasant at your porch the next day. But...thanks for liking my work !! >.<

WORDS: 2.4k

Requests are open, support is highly appreciated!

〰ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭ ..。.:*･ﾟ♫₊ ♪ *♬‧₊enjoy!~

You were a very hardworking woman around the hotel, to say the least.

Your excuse? “Well, Charlie is just dealing with so much, what’s my help going to harm but not… help?”

Ever since your dear partner, Alastor, invited you to live with him in his hotel room at the Hazbin Hotel, just to be closer as a couple,

You would not stop fucking working.

It’s driving him mad.

He has recently tried everything to get you to relax, to take it easy for once, but you were too stubborn for that. He couldn’t even believe how much work you did for such a small pay. It was honestly ridiculous since you weren’t even a maid, if that was what you were thinking.

So what if you were a bit of a clean freak, it wasn’t any reason to clean the entire damn hotel every day, including the outside, may we add.

You wouldn’t listen to his advice though, no matter how many times he told you to stop.

“Y/N, I swear if you keep cleaning the hotel I’m gonna…do something very bad,” he threatened one day while you were scrubbing down the lobby.

You chuckled, ignoring his threat.

“Don’t worry about me, sweetheart, m’ not gonna lose a limb.” you said with a smile.

Alastor sighed, watching as you continued to scrub the floors.

“You’re just being stubborn, Y/N,” he mumbled under his breath.

‘My last resort, I suppose.’ he concluded in his thoughts, looking around to make sure nobody would hear them.

After making sure that they were alone at the scene, he walked back over to you, trying to fix his composure.

“…When will you come back to bed with me, dear? It’s been cold without you.” Alastor said, kneeling down to her level as he put on his fake facade.

You paused for a moment and turned to him, “Aw, Al, you miss my spot being filled in the bed?” You said, rubbing his shoulder.

He nodded, “It’s never the same without you, I’m afraid.” He tried to soften his smile.

“…You’re not just saying that, right?” You said, losing your smile and pausing your hand.

“What? No-no. I would never lie to you dear.” He said, defending himself.

“…When do you want me in bed, hm?” You said, picking up your supplies and ignoring your suspicions, “I need to shower, after all.” You added.

Alastor stood up, “Now?” He asked, trying to sound hopeful.

“Mm, sure.” You nodded, walking off with your bucket of cleaning supplies.

He silently celebrated his victory.

* * *

Alastor’s ears perked up as he heard the shower turn off.

He was currently laying in bed with only a robe on and some boxers, staring off into the bayou and he brainstormed what he could do to get you to stop working.

He decided a couple minutes ago that his only option left were to ‘have intercourse’.

It was quite smart, actually. All he had to do was take your ability to walk.

So he waited as your blow dried your hair, trying to ignore his unpleasant boner from beneath the cloth of his boxers.

He waited even more when you picked which robe to wear to bed,

which, as you stepped out the steamy chamber, was a red silk robe with Alastor’s initials on it, your favorite.

He had a smug look on his face, seeing you step out in his clothing.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were waiting for me.” You said, seeing Alastor sitting up in bed.

He smiled at you, “No worries, dear,” he said, standing up and putting his hands on your hips.

“I was just waiting for you to come to bed.” He said, bringing his lips close to yours.

You laughed softly, pulling back after a moment, “What’s the occasion, dear?” You rested your forehead on his, closing your eyes.

“Hmm?” He asked, confused.

“Why are you acting so lovey-dovey with me? Is it Valentine’s Day already?” You laughed again, resting your head against his chest.

“Oh, don’t act so surprised, darling.” He said, leaning forward and kissing your temple.

“But, really, what’s the occasion?” You asked, moving back to give him space.

“Well…” He said, thinking quickly, “I figured you deserved a break after all of that hard work you put in recently.” He said, smiling again.

“Oh, your so sweet, Al.” You commented, caressing his cheek.

He leaned into your touch, “Yes…so i decided, what better to do so than taking your ability to walk for the next morning?” He sighed sweetly.

You paused, “…forget about Valentine’s day, did rut season come early?” You said, raising an eyebrow.

Alastor grinned, “It’ll definitely feel like it.” He said, grabbing your waist and laid you flat on the bed.

He moved down to your neck, kissing and suckling on it.

“Alastor…” You laughed out softly, more in a mumble.

“…Sshh, just let me do my thing, okay?” He whispered in your ear, continuing into your neck until he was sure to leave a mark, latching off of it with a ‘pop’.

He then made his way down, stopping at your breasts, cupping them in his hands and giving each nipple a gentle tug before resting his lips onto one of them.

He sucked and nibbled on it, moving to the other breast and doing the same.

He stopped, hearing you moan quietly under him, “Are you enjoying yourself?” He asked, looking up at your face.

“Oh, yes,” you gasped out, feeling your legs go weak as you lay there, “Keep going.” You added, running your fingers through his hair.

Alastor smiled, continuing to kiss your breasts until he felt you get wetter and wetter.

He sat up, sliding your robe off of you and throwing it somewhere across the room, leaving you in just your panties.

His eyes widened a bit at the sight of your body, “How did i end up with a sinner so beautiful.” He said, resting his head on your stomach, giving the fat of your hip a squeeze.

He ran his hands up and down your thighs, stopping at your panties and pulled them off of you, tossing them aside.

He then spread your legs apart and started to rub your clit gently with his thumb.

You let out a soft moan as you let out a jolt throughout your body from the contact, “F-fuck…” You breathed.

Alastor smiled and brought his free hand to your mouth, “Lick.” He commanded, placing his index finger on your tongue.

You obeyed, tasting your juices on his fingers.

He swiftly pulled the claw out your mouth, then slowly slipping two of them into your gummy walls.

You moaned out again as he curled his fingers inside you, thrusting them in and out of your hole.

He pulled his fingers out of you, sucking them clean as he moved your body to the center of the bed, sitting on his knees atop of you.

“Now,” he grabbed your left left, throwing it stop his shoulder, “You know the safe word, dear?” He said, grabbing ahold of his member and teasing your entrance with it.

You nodded, moving your hips for some more friction.

“Needy, I see…” You pulled his cock farther from her, “I need words, dear.”

“Y-yes, Alastor…” You struggled out.

He started to fist his member slowly, “Wouldn’t want to hurt my prized possession.”

After a moment, he pulled his hand away to put another leg up on his shoulder, scooting in and rubbing his duck along your slick folds.

“O-oh….” You breathed out as his meat hit your nub, “P-Put it in, Al…” You mumbled.

“Hm, what was that?” He stoped his member, resting it upon your nub as a tease.

You bit your lip, grinding against his dick, desperate for him to put it in.

He chuckled, pulling it back, making you stop.

You let out a whimper.

Alastor looked at you with a lustful look, his smile widening. “I need you to beg for it, dear.” He claimed, enjoying the moment.

You blushed, looking away for a moment.

Alastor tilted his head, grabbing his member again and started fisting it slowly.

You gulped, looking back at him, still not meeting his gaze, and whispered something incoherent.

He grasped your chin, turning it so you would look at him. “What’s wrong dear? losing interest in my so suddenly?” He said, making you shake your head, “Hm…then beg for it.”

"Please, Alastor, put yourself inside of me, fill me up, fuck me, please!” You begged, moving your hips for a feeling.

He stopped your hips, growling as he pushed himself inside of you without any warning, making you moan loudly.

“F-fuck…” you cursed from the sudden movement, trying to squirm away automatically.

Alastor noticed this, pausing his movement as he grabbed your arms, then your hips and waist, getting you to stop, “What’s wrong dear?”

You looked at him, “…k-kiss me?”

He smiled softly, “Anything for my doe.” he said, leaning down and kissing you directly on the mouth.

Although, as he leaned down, his dick moved further inside you, causing you to let out a jolt once again.

He caressed your hair, “It’s already in, dear,” he mumbled lovingly on your lips, “you’ve done your work, now just relax. I’ll do everything else.”

Waiting until you nodded, he pulled away and slowly began to pull out, before thrusting in swiftly, but gently.

You whimpered softly, gripping the sheets under you.

He pulled out and pushed in again, slowly building a rhythm.

He began to thrust faster, more cruel, “Oh, Alastor…” you moaned out, holding your hands around his neck.

Wet skin slapping together filled the room’s noises, alongside the crickets in the bayou, making you blush from the awkward noises.

Alastor noticed this, beginning to buff out his breaths and growls, and silently sent over his shadow to turn on the radio to a quiet, intimate jazz station.

“Hah…Alastor…” You breathed out as he shushed you, thrusting faster.

His cock rubbed against your walls, hitting all the right spots.

After a while, Alastor started to feel a familiar coil in his abdomen, grunting as he forced his hips to go at an ungodly pace, making your eyes roll to the back of your head.

“Gonna fuck you so good, darling…” He huffed, “Fill you up…you won’t be leaving this bed, understand?” Making you look at him directly and he moved your head with a tendril.

“Y-yes, Alastor…” You mumbled, trying to hold eye contact.

“Good girl…” He awarded verbally, growing another tendril into sight as he moved it down to run your clit, getting a high pitched moan out of you.

“F-faster, Al…I feel it…” You tightened your legs on him, tensing up.

As your tits bounced up and down from the thrusts, you couldn’t help but have to cover them because of the breeze from the bayou-

“No,” he immediately said, lifting one of his hands from clawing at the sheets and placing your hands around his neck, immediately diving down to suckle on your breasts.

“O-oh, yes!” You cried out, feeling his tongue circle around your nubs as he switched between the two.

You groaned as you felt the familiar coil in your abdomen grow after a couple thrusts, “I’m g-gonna cum soon, Al…” You scratched at his back in pleasure, trying to chase at your orgasm.

That’s when he didn’t switch to another breast, but kept sucking on one of them, rubbing and squeezing the other with his hand, making you wonder what he was doing,

Until you felt some milk come out of them.

“Ah-Ah! Alastor! I’m close!” You said, your legs shaking violently as you felt the intensity of him suck and squeeze milk out of you.

He growled, fastening his pace even more, making them even more tougher and he enter and exited your womb space, “Come for me, darling, let me hear you sing for me…”

His dirty talk only got you closer and closer to your edge, until,

You threw your head back into the mattress, arching your back as you let out a blissful cry of pleasure, clenching around him as you rode your orgasm, struggling to even keep your eyes open.

Alastor let out a beastly growl as his form quickly morphed to a more intimidating one as he shoved he cock into you one last time, releasing his seed inside you.

His cum leaked out of you as he slowly pulled out, quickly stuffing his fingers inside your hole so the cum would stay.

“What a good little for you are to me…” He said, admiring the mess you both made on the bed, and then just you laying there.

Noticing how you were still breathing heavily, not moving your body unless a little twitch, he leaned down to whisper softly, “How about some cold water, dear? Think this’ll help you relax?” He asked dotingly, making you nod instantly.

That made him chuckle, moving over to the edge of the bed as he stood up, going over to the nightstand and placing a water pitcher there from the shadows, and walking over the the bathroom for a towel.

***

As he came back from the bathroom with a hot rag in the hand, he noticed how you were half asleep, yet still conscious, which made him laugh softly as he place the rag down by the pitcher, crawling over to you.

“Mon Cher, you’re all fucked out by yours truly.” He smiled softly, fetching the rag from the nightstand with his shadow as he began to wipe your cunt clean.

When he was done, he then took notice of your breasts, how there were some stray milk on them.

Shrugging and tossing the rag aside, he leaned down and softly licked the milk off your chest.

You giggled softly in your daze, “Alastor…” You rubbed your eyes.

When he finished up, he filled a glass of water from the pitcher and turned back to you, sitting you up gently as he tipped the glass of water to your lips.

“Think you’ll be walking tomorrow?” He wondered aloud.

“Hm…will you stay with me here if i don’t?” You asked as you finished your glass.

He placed the cup down, “Of course dear,” he promised, crawling under the sheets beside you, sending his shadow to turn off the lights in the room as he cuddled close to your fragile state,

“Sleep well, dear.”

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END NOTES: I LEARNED HOW TO SPELL AWKWARD FROM WRITING THIS LETS FUCKING GO!!!! All jokes aside, (not really, now clap), i hope this fic actually turns out well because i spent 5 minutes trying to copy and paste this into a word counter and then 2 more minutes pasting this fic here because my phone sucks and it’s broken and i hate it and abuse it but like…i just hope it does well. I (hypothetically) put blood sweat and TEARS into this fic and idgaf what you think because it’s amazing for a first fic on this blog. Notes and comments, maybe even reblogs *wink wink* and also REQUESTS!!! Requests are my best friend, and always open unless I’m on vacation (which i’ll always announce). I love you guys ^^ !!

-Lynn Lazybones

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MASTERLIST LINK

Comment to be apart of my TAGLIST <3

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coco-loco-nut · 3 days

Text

imgonnagetyouback

pairing: logan sargeant x reader

summary: you aren’t sure if you want to destroy his car or take him home with you

a/n: most of this was written late at night and not proofread. love y’all, thanks for answering the poll, that was fun. might do it again

requests open masterlist

————————

You enter your usual Miami haunt with your friends, one mission in mind. Your lilac skirt fits your like a glove, showing off your legs and curves. It was Logan’s favorite.

Logan was an asshole, he knows it, ever since he broke up with you last year. He’s been keeping tabs on your socials recently, knowing this is where you go when you are in Miami instead of Fort Lauderdale. He brought Oscar with him as moral support, they stand at the bar, laughing over some bubbly drink.

Your eyes scan the club as you walk in, slightly pausing when you recognize the blonde guy staring at you from the bar, you can tell when someone wants you. Instead, you train your eyes on some guy on the dance floor, sending him a flirty smile and joining him for a dance or two, giving Logan a chance to pull himself together before going in. He can’t help but tell Oscar how good you look. The trap has been sprung. You are going to get Logan back. Whether romantically or by revenge, you weren’t sure.

You walk over to the bar, pretending to have not noticed the pair, standing one seat over.

“Tequila shot,” you order and Logan takes his chance.

“Add two more and put it on my tab,” Logan tells the bartender, Oscar gags a little, but doesn’t protest. You give Logan a look he can’t decipher, but you slide into the seat beside them.

“Thanks,” you say, the awkward small talk between the three of you filling the time as you wait for the shots. Logan salts his wrist for his shot. You grab his wrist, lick it, and throw back the shot. Oscar barely suppresses his laugh as you turn to go back to the dance floor. Logan quickly throws back the shot and follows you. Your friends find Oscar and chat, the group curious to see how this pans out.

“Y/n,” Logan catches your wrist, you act like you don’t care about him, but you can see the whispers in his eyes searching if you still love him. It breaks your cold heart a little. “Don’t be mad, please. I never wanted to hurt you,” he says, trying to win you back.

“I’m like your fucking car. You steered me into the fucking ditch then ran off,” you say after a second, turning back towards the crowd, he just pulls you closer.

“I’m so sorry. I hate myself for that,” he admits, you ignore him, dancing to the beat, not pushing him away but not encouraging him to dance with you either. Just when things are feeling too comfortable, you walk away in the direction of the bathrooms. Logan follows.

“Will you give me a chance?” he asks, the music quiet in the background. ‘God, he’s so fucking fine’ you think to yourself. The lighting doing everything right, the shadows enhance his jawline but his eyes shine bright.

“I haven’t decided yet,” your eyes revealing more than you intended. He can see the hurt and love in them. You aren’t sure if you want to curse him out or bring him home.

“What can I do,” he grabs your hands.

“I don’t know. I’m between being your wife or smashing your car,” you say, steeling yourself. Logan is thinking twice, unsure if he was ever yours or was never not yours. Logan pulls your closer, kissing you. Your body automatically responds to him. letting him pull you close.

“You’re mine,” you whisper, the temptation to both flip him off or pull him into the bathroom strong. He follows you back to the dance floor, you can feel the tension and chemistry coming back, electricity humming in the way you dance together. It’s like pressing a reset button, becoming something new. Oscar and your friends left a while ago, knowing the two of you were determined to leave here together from the start.

You tell the cab the address of your Miami apartment. Every moment that passes sees the hurt and past fade to gray.

“Pick your poison, I’m poison either way,” you had told Logan earlier, he chose you anyway, the both of you wanting to play with the broken pieces of your former relationship.

He pushes you against the wall, kissing you passionately.

“Before we do this, where do you stand? If we go ahead, there is no turning back,” Logan stops, needing to know that you belong to him again, you already know he belongs to you.

“I hate you but I love you just the same. I’m gonna get you back,” you tug on his shirt, pulling him back to you, a feral need for him growing.

It wasn’t a surprise to Logan’s friends when you showed up to the Miami paddock later that week.

What was a surprise was the ring around your finger, one that matches the one around Logan’s.

“What the hell?” Oscar asks, a smile on his face.

“I’m not going to let her go again,” Logan looks down at you with a smile.

“I chose to love him till the end, luckily for Sauber,” you joke, referencing the team who decided to take a chance on Logan and help him develop.

“I’m happy for you two,” Oscar says, happy to see his best friend happy. Everyone but your parents were happy for you, the parents were just mad you got married without them there.

“I am too, but I will take it out on his car if he hurts me again,” you tell Oscar, joking but not joking. Logan just holds you closer. You both told each other about your plans to get each back, it caused a lot of laughter.

“That’s my wife,” he grins proudly. Oscar shakes his head at his friends.

“You did what!” Alex runs over to the two of you. “Where was my invite? Oh, glad to have you back Y/n, Lily missed you,” Alex says, as the two of you just laugh.

instagram

y/nsargeant what if i told you i’m a mastermind, and now your mine ❤️

logansargeant it was all by design ❤️

oscarpiastri not letting the two of you go back to a club, Y/n will end up pregnant or something

y/friend1 you both took getting each other back a little too seriously. this is why i love you

user1 hold up, since when were mom and dad back together??

user2 AND MARRIED??

y/friend2 you really went to the club heartbroken and left ready to get married😭 ilysm

alexalbon they are so unserious 😭

sauberf1 when did this happen? LOGAN??? we’re not mad. pick up your phone

charlesleclerc ^^^

carlossainz55 ^^^

landonorris ^^^

georgerussell iconic

y/nsargeant thanks pookie 🫶

#f1 imagines #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #logan sargeant #logan sargeant imagine #logan sargeant x reader

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sibylsleaves · 1 day

Text

some things fall when they're meant to fall

11k (so far) | rated T | read on ao3 Eddie’s gaze drop to Buck’s lips—pink, like his birthmark. Eddie wants to taste those lips, and he wants it with a fierceness so sudden it shocks him. “I’m, uh,” Buck stammers. “Last night. When you saw me and Tommy…we—we were on a date.” Everything inside Eddie goes still. If his heart is a kite, then this is the moment it plummets back to earth.

or, Buck tells Eddie some news. Eddie has a realization and breaks up with his girlfriend. Not necessarily in that order.

written for @burnthatbridge

Chapter 2/4 now up on ao3

Eddie is happy for Buck. Obviously. It goes without saying that he’s happy for him.

And look, it’s not like it’s hard. Not when Buck’s been walking around like the LA sun shines specifically for him. He’s got this shimmering halo of excitement around him these days, and beneath that, a kind of deep relief. Like some of the heavy weight he’s dragged around with him his entire life has been lifted.

More than anyone Eddie’s ever known, Buck has spent his life searching for something. And finally, he’s found it.

Not Tommy—although Buck does get a particular blushing grin on his face whenever he talks about him. What Buck has found is something bigger than that. A truth about himself. An answer to a question he never knew to ask.

So yeah, Eddie’s happy for him. How could he not be? This whole year, when he hasn’t been worrying about Chris, he’s been worried about Buck and how he’s been dealing with the aftermath of the lightning strike.

He’s not worried anymore.

And as for Eddie’s own revelation…the realization that for him, all roads lead to Buck, well…

He’s not thinking about it. He’s doing everything in his power to act like nothing’s changed, to act the way the Eddie Diaz of two weeks ago would act. The Eddie Diaz whose brain hadn’t yet caught up to his heart on the matter of Evan Buckley.

“So, there’s a Dodgers game this evening,” Eddie says, jiggling his car keys nervously while he waits for Buck to finish changing after their shift. He rests his gaze somewhere to the left of Buck's bare chest. “I was thinking about inviting Tommy over to watch. And I know you’re watching Jee so Chim and Maddie can work on wedding stuff—”

“Eddie,” Buck tugs his shirt over his head and looks at Eddie quizzically. “We’ve already been over this. I was never actually mad that you were hanging out with Tommy without me. I mean yeah, I guess I felt slightly excluded, but it was more about—”

“Yeah, yeah I know, the giant crush you had on the guy,” Eddie says with a fond eye-roll. There. That’s something two-weeks-ago Eddie would’ve said, right?

(read chapter 2 on ao3)

taglist:

@remembertheskittles @myao3library-blog @sorryimlatecapt @swiftiesisters14 @bewitchedbewilderedbisexual

@myphilomena @neuromagpie @fleurdebeton @daffi-990 @crysty-rp-2023

@confetti-cupcake @pixelmator5 @fabgirlll @evansbuckkley @lyricfulloflight

@daisievalentine @crazyfangirlallert @bucklavaa @torturedpoetdean @smallandalmosthonest

@notalwaysdead @anatargmova @marmottion @flavored-soda @thebirdling

@tulipfromtheinternet @takemebythehand-andsetmefree @sunshinediaz @thatsveryood @devirnis

@messyhairdiaz @skies-below @actingcamplibrarian @dirundmir @stagefoureddiediaz

@wh0rebehavi0rmain @dancy-nrew @eddiebabygirldiaz @screamatthescreen @organizedstardust

@leothil

#ive never posted a multichapter fic before so i have no idea what im doing #ive also never done a proper taglist before haha #chapter 2 is up though!!!! chapter 3 hopefully coming soon #sibyls words #some things fall sequel #it's not a sequel though it's just chapter 2 #911 fic #buddie fic

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wen-kexing-apologist · 3 days

Text

Unknown, Ep 10: Qian and Yuan

I’ve had a few people ask if I was going to do a breakdown post for the final scene between Qian and Yuan. Admittedly, I was not planning on doing so, but I like the attention 😈 so I will!

Last we left off, Qian and San Pang were having a very difficult conversation, San Pang forced Qian to think about the future and was kicked out as a result.

We start with a moment with each character to themselves. Qian closes the door behind San Pang and we see him hand at the door for a second, head hung in a way that feels very tired. He walks away from the door back to the couch to grab his glasses and wrap up the evening, when the camera cuts to Yuan sitting on the staircase, just out of sight of Qian.

We see Yuan look up at the ceiling, take a deep breath, and then slowly move his eyes back to center. He is processing everything that he just heard from San Pang and Qian. Yuan is trying to keep himself composed here, he knows that Qian will be heading up the stairs eventually and so he stays seated because he wants Qian to know that he heard everything. Because Yuan is fucking mad.

Qian heads up the stairs and we get, what could not be a more perfect little deer in headlights look from Qian as he processes that Yuan has heard everything. And I do love what this show does in how it portrays its characters because Yuan is still Qian’s little brother, and his face in the camera looks like that of an upset little kid. “Xiao Yuan,” Qian says as Yuan stands up and rushes down the stairs. In such a quick moment, Chris rolls his eyes, looks up, and then down like Qian is annoyed at Yuan’s behavior while knowing that he is absolutely going to have to be the one to handle it.

Yuan brushes past him, but Qian immediately turns and follows after him, calls after him, tells him to wait. But Yuan keeps walking. Where he’s going? I have no fucking clue, but it is clear that Qian’s words aren’t going to cut it. Yuan has heard everything that Qian told San Pang. He’s heard about Qian’s wish for their happiness, he’s heard San Pang tell Qian that they love each other, that they have tried everything to make them not love each other, and what he hasn’t heard is an answer to San Pang’s question:

“Do you want him to have a future without you?”

I don’t know exactly what (if any) part of the conversation acted as the tipping point for Yuan, but he has been pissed the entire episode about Qian hiding his medical stuff from him. So I can imagine that not hearing an answer from Qian about wanting to be in Yuan’s future might serve as a last straw kind of deal.

And it marks a very important change in Qian that he runs after Yuan this time, that he physically puts himself in front of Yuan to stop him. Because he doesn’t want Yuan to go somewhere to cool off the way he did during Yuan’s first confession four years prior. He doesn’t want to just wait it out. He actually wants to talk to Yuan about where his head is at. That is huge progress from Mr. Hit First Talk Later.

“Ge.” Yuan says, and then lets out a very big breath, like he’s trying to temper his feelings, but the frustration still bleeds out of him “It was never your fault,”

Ah, here we go. What set Yuan off is Qian talking with San Pang about the Russian Roulette, reading between the lines there and understanding that Qian is scared of giving in to his feelings for Yuan because he blames himself for how deeply, how steadfastly Yuan loves him. Yuan is willing to die for him, and Qian has never had that before. He’s scared of giving in to his feelings for Yuan because he is scared of losing Yuan, and he is scared that Yuan’s love for him means Yuan will be lost because of him.

“It was never your fault,” Yuan said and he put his hands on Qian’s shoulders.

I do not even know how to describe the look Qian gives Yuan when he heard those words, nor can I really tell you what emotion(s) Qian is feeling in that moment, but I can tell you that I am obsessed with that look on his face. It’s like his breath catches in his throat and there is an ambiguity there, just like there was a bit of ambiguity in the head nod he gave San Pang, because he’s out of breath from running after Yuan, but there is also this chance that the pause in his breathing there is because of what Yuan said. Anyway:

“Even though I know that in the end you might not want all that I’ve given-”

Yuan says, while Qian looks down in the direction of his shoulders, where Yuan’s hands were just a moment ago. They made excellent casting choices here, I actually think for this scene it is really important that Kurt is taller than Chris, because it adds some extra power to Yuan’s position for me here. The way Yuan looks down at Qian makes him seem even more pissed off about the entire situation, almost like he’s belittling Qian. He wants to dig a knife in here, and he’s being successful at it

“Hearing it first hand still hurts a little,”

And we are back in our original confession dynamic. Qian is not looking at Yuan, Yuan refuses to look away from Qian. Qian looks kind of out of it, I would say he is dissociating a little bit, but I actually think what is happening here is that Qian is getting hit with the full force of Yuan’s words. I think he is absorbing and processing everything that is being said and understanding how not making a decision is hurting Yuan. Mostly because of how quick his reaction time is to trying to stop Yuan from walking away immediately after he says it hurts.

“I’ll be fine. I just need some time.” Yuan says, and I do think he means it. I think when Yuan came back from the States he had reached a point where he could live without Qian changing their relationship status, even if he didn’t want to.

But as Yuan tries to walk away, Qian stops him.

“I didn’t mean it that way,” look at him using his words! Qian looks so fucking exhausted when he does. The world has weighed heavy on him for so long, he’s been fighting an internal battle with himself about his feelings for Yuan for ages. It’s a lot, and the way Chris holds Qian here makes it feel like a lot. But, Yuan finally settles, because Qian is willing to engage in conversation. He is trying to clarify a misunderstanding, he is not outright rejecting Yuan here, he is not running away from talking about his feelings for Yuan. And so Yuan can stay, because there is some hope left there for him to hold on to.

He releases another huge breath, he stretches for just a second, grounding himself. He looks back at Qian “Then what do you mean?”

Qian stares in to the void, then rolls his eyes upwards, closes his eyes, and sighs. Chris shakes his head a little, like Qian is giving up. Because he is giving up. Because Qian is about to say the words. He is about to admit that his feelings for Yuan aren’t clear cut. Yuan looks away from Qian in this moment, where Qian is getting himself together.

gifs by @wanderlust-in-my-soul

“I can’t really figure out if it is love or something else that my feelings for you are.” And at the end of this, he isn’t running from the words anymore, because he looks at Yuan and Yuan is looking back at him. When Yuan first admitted his feelings, his suffering caused Qian to avoid eye contact. When Yuan returned, Qian couldn’t stop looking at Yuan. When listening to Yuan once again speak to his feelings and tell Qian he was hurting, Qian started in his comfort zone, in the old habits of looking away. But when he is actually admitting his feelings to Yuan, he does turn to look him in the eye. He isn’t avoiding it anymore.

“Is it the love of a brother? Can we really turn it into romantic love? I don’t know.” Qian is finally having the conversation he has needed to have with Yuan. This is confusing, how do you separate your feelings out? How do you know? What happens if things don’t go well? How much are you set to lose if things devolve?”

Yuan is capable of holding, understanding, and pushing that nuance, we’ve seen him do it before at the river. “This thing between us, is it because you don’t want or you don’t dare?”

“Yes.” Qian says “All I know is I can’t live without you.”

Yuan has seen that, San Pang and Lili have seen that, we have seen that. Qian wants to be careful with how he proceeds along this path, and he is right to do so. Because it is hard to determine, when you have known someone so long, when you have raised them, when you have seen them as a brother, when you have not had love outside of the family before, when that love has existed the entire time, and has been different the entire time, and how do you recognize that when you are in it?

There is a pause.

“Four years later, you came back.”

There is another pause.

I love these pauses. I love Qian putting space between these thoughts, whether he is scrambling internally for what to say, or whether he is hesitant to voice them, I do not know. I just know that I love love love when directors allow for breathing room.

“I saw your letter of last words.”

Qian stops looking at Yuan here. Another little pause.

“That’s when I started to feel scared.”

The camera cuts to a wide shot, where both Qian and Yuan are visible. And we can see Yuan reacting to what Qian is saying. Yuan also is not making eye contact, he is fidgeting a little. But he is listening intently to Qian’s words. The blocking of this shot is interesting to me too, because the way that Chris is standing has Qian facing Yuan, but we don’t see enough of Chris’ eyes here, so while it looks like Qian is looking at Yuan, that is not necessarily the case. We have seen him look away multiple times and his head barely moves.

Qian is talking in to the void, and Yuan is picking up the signal. Another pause, and right before Qian continues talking, Yuan turns to look at him with this look of surprise on his face. His mouth is slightly agape, his eyes look soft staring at Qian.

“I’m terrified,” Qian says. “What if you had no chance to come back? I don’t know what I would do.”

Yuan looks at Qian, looks away, looks up like he is trying to decide how to feel. What type of treatment he should be giving to Qian at this moment. Should he be bitter, should he be harsh, should he be soft?

“Wei Qian.” Yuan says

AND I WILL ONCE AGAIN SHAKE MY FIST AT THE SUBTITLES FOR TRANSLATING GE AS QIAN BECAUSE IT SO SEVERELY CUTS THE IMPORTANCE OF MOMENTS LIKE THIS ONE.

Qian cannot figure out his feelings! He can’t figure out if he loves Yuan like a brother or something more! So Yuan cuts the brother out of it. He calls Qian by his name. He calls him Wei Qian, he puts the separation up for Qian. Is this the love of a brother? That’s an easier question to answer when you aren’t being called ‘brother’. How do you feel when you aren’t being reminded of your connection?

I do not have the ability to describe the way Kurt’s mouth moves here, but I love the expression he gives Yuan as he finishes saying Wei Qian. He’s clearly going for a soft approach. Qian’s mouth, which hangs open just slightly, closes shut.

“I’ve told you. I can sum up my life in two words: Wei Qian.” A smile starts to creep up his face. That’s love, bitch! Yuan was pissed, but now that Qian has stopped him, not that Qian has voices his hesitations, now that Qian has admitted that he can’t live without Yuan, even if he doesn’t know what his feelings for Yuan are, the love Yuan has for Qian melts the anger and lets the love bleed through. “But I’m not making you take responsibility for me.”

This is a very important character trait of Yuan’s. One of the first things we saw of teenage Yuan was him grabbing one of the household bills. Yuan has been working side hustles while in school. He’s been helping pay the bills. He’s been as helpful as he possibly can be at all times, because this was a home he was given, not a home he was born in to.

GOD DAMMIT CHRIS IS SO GOOD. ALL HE DID WAS MOVE HIS EYEBALLS LIKE…TWO CENTIMETERS AND THAT WAS ENOUGH TO KILL ME.

Yuan is saying all the things that Qian needs to hear. Yuan can sum his life up with Qian, Qian fed him, Qian kept him warm, Qian gave him a home, Qian gave him love. Qian has seen Yuan as his responsibility since they were kids, but Yuan has wanted nothing but to be a support system for Qian. I said it before, that Yuan is the only person who continuously helps Qian to whom Qian is not beholden. Qian owes San Pang and his family, Qian owes Le and the gang, Qian owes Xiong. Qian does not owe Yuan. Qian does not see Yuan as someone that owes him.

That small little eye motion are some gears clicking in to place in Qian’s head. That small little eye motion is Qian well and truly listening to what Yuan is saying.

And here comes the parallel:

gif by @wanderlust-in-my-soul

“Did you come after me because you feel guilty, or because you care?” (this thing between us, is it because you don’t want or you don’t dare?)

A genuine question that Yuan is using to try to push Qian in to allowing himself finally see his feelings through to the end. Qian is standing here before Yuan telling him that he does not know what his feelings for Yuan are. Even though those In The Know (Yuan and San Pang) can see the truth in Qian clear as day, Qian himself has not admitted it.

So Yuan gives him a test.

Qian pauses for a moment, starts to shake his head, blinks.

gif by @wanderlust-in-my-soul

“I really don’t know,” he says

Qian has failed the test.

Yuan’s soft smile has a hint of sadness in it now.

“You don’t need to know.” Yuan leans back against the wall, looking up at the sky. Qian is looking straight ahead, once again not making eye contact with Yuan “It’s always been my problem. Going home with you.”

gif by @wanderlust-in-my-soul

The weight of what Yuan is saying hits. Qian looks at the ground. Complete opposite direction as Yuan.

“Getting attached to you. Falling for you.”

Qian closes his eyes and sighs, pulling his head up from where it was pointed. It’s like he can’t get used to hearing Yuan confess. Like it hits him every time Yuan says he’s in love with Qian and has been forever.

“Wanting you all my life.”

gif by @wanderlust-in-my-soul

That is too much for Qian. Even with his eyes closed, even though he can’t see Yuan right now, he has to face away.

“It was never your fault.” Yuan says, and Qian’s eyes open ever so slightly.

And I just have to say that it is really really important to me that with all of Qian’s trauma, with everything he has suffered, with the stuff he went through with his mother, that he finally has someone tell him that it wasn’t his fault. There is naturally a lot of hesitation in changing the way you see someone you have raised, someone you have looked at and treated as a brother, and suddenly see them as someone to be romantically interested in.

gif by @wanderlust-in-my-soul

So it is important to me that Yuan tells Qian he did nothing wrong. That Yuan’s feelings here are entirely his own, borne of his own mind and body, and that there is no aspect of Yuan’s feelings for him that Qian pressured him in to. That Yuan will be fine, eventually, if Qian does not reciprocate his feelings. Qian is not being forced in to anything here, and neither is Yuan. And I am so so so glad that Qian got to hear that. Twice!

Anyway, Qian’s eyes open ever so slightly right as Yuan starts walking away, shoulder checking Qian on his way out.

“Wait.” Qian grabs Yuan by the wrist “Wei Zhiyuan.”

gifs by @wanderlust-in-my-soul

Yuan’s eyes are locked on to Qian’s hand around his wrist. He once again looks surprised that Qian would be brave enough to stop him from leaving. We get a shot of their hands (😈) and Yuan ever, ever so slowly raises his eyes to look at Qian.

Qian has passed the test at the last second.

#here you go for the people who asked if I was going to write the staircase scene #got this in right under the wire before tomorrow becomes all episode 11 stuff #unknown #unknown the series #unknown the series analysis #unknown the series meta #unknown the series episode 10 #chris chiu #kurt huang #taiwanese bl #wka long post

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syrupfog · 2 days

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Law being the most anemic fucking vampire.

Like he doesn’t pick up on hunger cues, especially when studying in med school and during his fellowship time. Will go days without feeding because he doesn’t notice he needs to until one day he stands up and just falls the fuck over

Like he becomes well known in his apartment complex because of the number of times he’s passed out on the stairs.

He doesn’t change his ways though until he comes to on the landing with his neighbour looming over him.

“Zoro says you’re a vampire” the neighbour says.

Law doesn’t know his neighbours he has no clue who Zoro is. “I’m a vampire,” he says, groaning as he sits up.

Neighbour nods, walks over and fucking HEADBUTTS the wall. Some cement crumbles.

Law gapes at him.

The neighbour walks back, looking mostly fine (definitely has a concussion) with a trickle of a bloody nose.

“Here you go!” He says brightly.

Law gives him a horrified face. He scrambles back when he thinks the neighbour is going to headbutt him too.

But the man just walks up to him and swipes the blood off his face and onto Law’s face, like you’re supposed to do to get kittens to eat.

He’s grinning. Very wide.

“Please don’t ever do that again,” Law says. He wipes the blood off his face.

The man frowns “I worked hard for that!” He says.

“I’m not rewarding bad behaviour,” Law says petulantly.

“You passed out on the stairs!”

“That’s beside the point.”

Law has blood bags at home. He doesn’t need a weird stranger’s blood. He probably has mad cow.

The man crosses his arms. “Well I think that’s rude,” he says.

Law sighs. He’s still lightheaded. “How about next time you want to donate blood, you ask me first? I can take some WITHOUT giving you a concussion.”

The man brightens. “Okay!!” He says, excited now.

“Im Luffy! It’s nice to meet you, vampire!”

“Trafalgar,” saw Law.

“Traffy,” says Luffy.

Law narrows his eyes. He senses arguing is futile.

Law never actually means to take Luffy up on his offer. He HAS blood, he just forgets to take it. Every time Luffy offers, he tells him he’s got blood at home, maybe next time.

That all changes when a summer storm rolls in and they lose power.

They’re out of power for almost four days, a sickly still and wet heat settling in the city. And when Law wakes up after passing out in his kitchenette, he realises he’s actually in need.

He doesn’t even know where in the complex Luffy lives, but it turns out not to be an issue.

He’s just made it down the stairs when the fire door in front of him opens and—

“TRAFFY!”

“Luffy,” Law groans despite himself.

“Do you need—“

“Yes.” Law grabs his wrist. “Come with me.”

Luffy obediently follows him back up the stairs to his apartment.

Law drags him in and sets him at the table. “You’re going to want to refill on protein and sugar after this,” he says.

“Okay!” Luffy says, expression bright.

Law sighs. He wipes down Luffy’s forearm with an alcohol pad before grabbing his wrist and sinking his teeth in.

Usually humans taste gross. Blood at the best of times is a neutral flavour, but skin and arm hair and sweat are disgusting.

But Luffy?

Luffy… tastes like honeyed ham.

Law pulls back, a wet noise as he pulls his fangs out. “Why do you taste like that?” He asks, alarmed.

“Like what?” Luffy asks.

“Like… glazed ham?”

Luffy laughs. “Silly,” he says. “Because I was eating glazed ham, of course!”

Law bit close to Luffy’s elbow. He also sanitised the area. How on EARTH did the taste permeate his skin so well?

With trepidation, Law goes back to feeding. It’s with horror he realises he… likes the glazed ham taste with the blood. It’s like drinking flavoured coffee; useless accoutrement but pleasing nonetheless.

When he’s drunk enough he’s confident he won’t be falling down stairs,

Law cleans Luffy’s arm and attaches two small round plasters to the holes.

“Fun!” Luffy says, looking at them. “Fang sized!”

“Thanks,” Law says. “You can go now.”

Luffy blinks at him. “Let’s hang out,” he says.

Law blinks back at him. “I have to—“ he gestures at his apartment.

Considering they are IN his apartment, he’s just sort of gesturing at everything.

“That’s cool,” Luffy says. “I’ll just stay here.”

Law… nods. “Okay,” he says. The power’s still out, it’s not like he was going to actually do anything anyway.

What Law doesn’t know is that once Luffy’s gotten into Law’s apartment once, he’s gonna always assume he’s welcome.

Even when Law tries to kick him out. S

ometimes (often) Luffy is just. Here now.

And unfortunately, like the glazed ham taste, Law realises he sort of likes it.

#lulaw #lawlu #my writing

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fangsandfracturedhearts · 3 days

Text

Fangs and Fractured Hearts

Chapter 15: Reclamation

Summary: You helped Astarion complete the Rite of Profane Ascension and become the Vampire Ascendant. You agreed to become his spawn soon after. Once the Netherbrain was defeated, Astarion claimed the Szarr Palace, renaming it the Crimson Palace, for himself and set about his plans of domination.

Word Count: 6.6k

Pairing: Ascended Astarion x female!Tav Spawn

Warnings: [Will try to continue to add more, but in general expect explicit content for mature audiences]

Possible spoilers. Eventual Explicit Content. Slow Burn. Thoughts of Suicide. Violence. Blood. Injury. Mature Content. Self-Harm. Mentions of in-game content. Completely fabricated camp events. Mentions of Astarion's Trauma.

If you notice a very critical tag missing, please don't hesitate to let me know

Rating: Explicit 18+ - [Meant For Mature Audience]

A maelstrom of emotions dithers over the union you share. He seems unsure of what exactly he should be feeling as it fluctuates between fear, doubt, and bewilderment in a tumultuous outburst. His thoughts are akin to walking on the dark side of the moon - frigid, wilful in their grip on him with an undecipherable sapidity.

“What do you mean?” He shakes his head, eyes bouncing around as his brows pinch, creasing his forehead. His voice is detached and reticent, a masterpiece of regret and dolour. “I wouldn’t do such a thing, surely. Would I? Hells below. Did I?”

“You must have,” you conclude, wiping your tears with the back of your hand. “I don’t remember you doing it, but I can’t hear or remember it.”

Astarion jumps to his feet, nearly pitching you off his lap in haste, but he grabs you at the last minute, dragging you up with him. He pulls his trousers up but leaves them loose as he paces fitfully, muttering and mumbling to himself and wracking his fingers through his hair.

“I don’t understand,” he utters, half to himself and half to you. “I just do not understand. Why would I do such a thing? How long ago did I do this? What the fuck is wrong with me?”

It’s not your fault.

“I think it was before I…” you trail off, squeezing your eyes closed at the memory of Astarion stalking you through the Crimson Palace hallways like a predator, caustic venom spitting from his lips, every word eating away at your soul.

“Left me,” Astarion finishes with a note of despair, like a cold hand laid upon your bare soul. “You can say it.”

You nod sullenly, dropping your head, deject and wayward.

His emotions are flickering through your mind and body like a kaleidoscope of lightning strikes, each blinding flash incomprehensible in its intensity. You focus, but Astarion stops dead as you try to catch and hold them, and the connection is severed.

You are once again empty, a barren midnight sky that’s misplaced the stars and moon. Your eyes snap to Astarion, but the scarlet of his eyes looks hollow with madness as he regards you with the wariness of a wounded animal. He looks at you like he doesn’t know who you are, and it sends a wave of alarm coursing through you, causing your palms to heat.

He retrieves his shirt from the floor, always keeping a close eye on you as if you might pounce. He’s unreadable and cold, the iron countenance of the Vampire Ascendant shrouding him like an icebound veil. Without a word, Astarion darts out of your room, descending the stairs at a whirlwind pace that would be perilous for anyone who wasn’t so agile.

“Astarion?” In confusion, you chase after him without much thought, nearly tumbling down the stairs, and grab his arm. “Where are you going?”

He rips his arm out of your clutches with a bestial snarl. “Don’t touch me!”

“Just wait,” you plead with him, casting Misty Step and blocking his trajectory to the door. You can’t make heads or tails of this shift. “Please. Tell me what’s going on. Let me help.”

“You can’t help me.”

Astarion tries to get around you, but you won’t secede any ground and hold your position with foolish defiance. He grabs your arm, pivots, and thrusts you backward, throwing you to the floor. When you look up at him, those crimson eyes are starting to flick and fade like a star in the throes of death.

“Do not try and stop me again,” he growls, taking stalking steps toward you with a choler tinge in his voice. “Bad, pet.”

Astarion laughs, leans down, and grabs your ankle. He squeezes until the bones are wailing and threatening to break under duress. You whimper, beseeching cries for amnesty, trying to crawl away.

“Master, stop! Please.” You barely recognize the word as it jumps off your tongue in your agony. The haunting palette of bruising is immediately stained on the ghostly white canvas of your skin.

His grip is suddenly snapped away, and he springs back, grabbing his head with a pained groan, shaking it from side to side furiously as he roots himself in place. His breath falters as his eyes meet yours with a hysterical acidity as their claret shifts from deep and warm to shoal and dull as if covered by a thick layer of dust.

“Sorry,” he totters unsteadily on his feet, his lips parting with erratic breaths that make his chest jump aperiodically. His heart beats so hard in his chest that the sound is almost ear-splitting. “Hells. I’m so sorry. I— I— must go.”

Astarion does not even close the door in his urgency, and you’re left naked, clutching your ankle on the floor, staring into the street with your mouth agape. You cast Telekinesis to throw the door closed and limp around the manor, closing the heavy drapes to block the sun.

“Fuck!” You scream at the emptiness surrounding you as you pull yourself up the stairs on your lame ankle.

As you bathe, you allow your body to submerge into the spacious tub. You force yourself to forgo the useless impulse to breathe the air you no longer require and sink. The water’s surface contorts above you like an uneven mirror, twisting and warping reality. Everything is falling apart, and you feel like the sand of a beach being dragged away piece by piece with every crash of another wave upon the shore of your life.

Your heart would be beating recklessly in your chest if you hadn’t been alleviated of life. Colourful promises of love and breaths of forever in a realm of temporary fill your eyes with tears that seep into the water. Time stands still, and your doubt settles and masks your bravery. You’re one step closer to losing him entirely, but you must be fearless. Neither you nor Astarion can afford for you to fall.

Closing your eyes, you run headfirst into memories, searching your soul for all the places that feel like home.

The thudding of boots, the drip of rain that sneaks through the fissures in the bricks, the skittering and squeaking of vermin — everything echos off the stone in Moonrise. The fire throws foreboding, eerie shadows in slinking shapes across your tent that make you uneasy. No one wanted to camp here for the night, with the Absolute Cultists only floors below, but it had been a long journey through the Shadowlands, and the hungry shade had sapped everyone’s strength.

You flop restlessly on the furs in your tent, unable to trance. You had been counting the cultists inhabiting this wretched place as you made your rounds, trying to familiarize yourself with the layout. The omen of the arduous battle hangs over you, and you’re trying to devise some semblance of a plan to wipe them out in stages. You were never a very strategic planner. Typically, showing up and raining fire, violence, and death have worked for most of your life. Even with the help of the Harpers, one mistake could spell disaster.

Your ears twitch as you hear the rumbling murmurs bounce off the walls, and you’re out of your tent in a blink with fire ablaze in your palm, fearing the cultists have figured out that you don’t fit within their ranks. Taking a lap around, you take a quick headcount, checking your friends off one by one until you hear a soft, breathy whimpering.

Astarion…

Crouching by his tent, you whisper his name, but he does not answer. You recognize a nightmare when you hear one, and your hurt lurches in your chest, fingers hovering just over the door of his tent, but you don’t open it. Your proximity is usually enough to calm him without waking him, and this time seems no different. The trashing has stopped, and his muttering has ceased.

You sigh, relieved, and lay down at the door, curling up on the hard stone. You will rest here tonight if it means you can bring him even a scrap of peaceful rest.

“Darling,” Astarion purrs in a rugged timbre, heavy under the weight of drowsiness. “Whatever are you doing?”

You smile and flop over to peer into the hypnotic, heavily-lidded eyes. Astarion yawns, fangs peeking from his lips, and grins back at you.

“You were having a nightmare,” you whisper, making sure to keep your voice down so it doesn’t wake the others. “I didn’t mean to wake you. Go back to sleep. I’ll stay here tonight.”

“You were going to sleep out here on the stone?” He cocks his head, quirking a brow at you. “Why?”

“It seemed to comfort you,” you shrug.

"I meant, why would you sleep out here when there's a perfectly good bedroll in my tent with me?”

“Oh,” you say, sitting upright with a jolt. “That’s okay, Astarion. Really. I’m perfectly fine out here.”

“Get in here, weirdo," Astarion giggles, grabbing your arm and giving it a gentle tug.

You hesitate, but he tows you harder, and eventually, you relent and crawl into his tent. You sit in the corner, trying to make yourself small, wrapping your arms around your knees.

Astarion huffs exasperatedly, “You do realize that we’ve had sex, yes? You were hardly shy during our little late-night expeditions.”

“I’m not shy, not with you,” you giggle but avidly watch how Astarion’s jaw clenches, fingers tangling into the furs. “You’re hungry. I can see it. I can’t imagine it’s comfortable to be so close to a food source in a confined space.”

“I’ll admit, it’s not easy when you’re so very delicious with that lovely neck, begging to be tasted,” he grins, an artificial smile meant to put you at ease. Astarion notices that he cannot fool you, and his fingers rifle through his hair. “I’m fine. Truly. You’re not in any danger around me. I can control my hunger.”

“Danger? Oh, Gods! No, Astarion.” You shake your head at him, offering your hand, and he takes it. His thumb sways softly over the back, “I’m not afraid you’ll hurt me. I just don’t want you to be uncomfortable. When’s the last time you fed?”

“Oh, I don’t know, darling. There was that cultist I made a snack of a couple of days ago. You needn’t concern yourself with it. I’ve gone much, much longer without a meal.”

There’s a bleakness shading the sculpted angles of his face that makes your heart palpate with empathy. You don’t have to ask for confirmation. Cazador obviously starved him as some form of punishment. It makes your palms heat in reflex as you seethe. You don’t care what it takes. You are going to kill the motherfucker who dared torture this man that’s stolen your heart.

“Astarion, whenever you’re hungry, I’m happy to offer my neck. All you have to do is ask.”

“That’s very… sweet, but the very shadows of this place are hungry.” Astarion sighs, wrapping his arms around his waist to smother his hunger pains. He smiles, “As much as I would absolutely love to take you here and now, you need your strength. We have many battles ahead.”

“Don’t be dumb," you tut, moving your hair away from your neck. “I need you strong. I am capable of deciding this for myself. I don’t need you to do it for me.”

“Dumb? Darling! You wound me.” He theatrically scoffs, hand to his forehead, falling back as if you slapped him, with a shallow chuckle, “I have received many slights in my life - Insufferable, insolent, insignificant, but this might be the first time I have been accused of being dumb.”

“Well, they say there’s a first time for everything,” you smirk, levity uplifting the lilt of your baritone. “Consider this your first.”

“You are racking up quite the catalogue of firsts,” he chuckles, shaking his head, propping himself up on his elbows. “Are you sure? I am truly of sound mind. No one is in any danger.”

You crawl toward him, heart rate accelerating with every forward movement of your hands and knees, “Will you please shut up and bite me already? Before I berate you for believing I think you’re a danger.”

Astarion’s hand wraps around your arm, persuading you closer with pressure, but he does not so much as glance at your exposed neck. He’s fixed on your eyes as if he’s found heaven hidden within them.

“Then allow us to dine together,” he nods slowly, eyes still moored to yours as he sits upright, prompts you to turn, and holds your back steady against his chest. He kisses under your earlobe and hints his lips down the column of your neck until he settles on that rhythmically pumping vein. He kisses it, long and lingering, and groans, “Are you ready?”

“Yes,” you sigh, barely able to contain your body’s excitement as it trembles in his arms.

His fangs puncture your skin like icicles, impaling the soft flesh, but it ebbs and dulls to a paradisical strumming before your mind has time to react and withdraw. For a vampire that has not fed on thinking creatures much, he’s remarkably gentle and has only become more tender since you started these little meals. He draws from you in unhurried pulls, tallied and modulated as he listens, and his palm splays across your chest over your heart to determine its pace in case he does not hear it accurately.

You feel your ethos skimming through his veins, warming his skin, flushing the tips of his ears, an antidote to his pain. You sigh mellowly, and your fingers untwist from his trousers, going lax. His arousal hardens against your back as he removes his fangs from your neck, tongue lavishing at the residual weeping wounds with broad, flat strokes and moaning a chilled breath over the shell of your ear.

Astarion turns your head toward him, catching your lips in a blistering kiss tinged with the coppery piquancy of your blood. His hips buck into you with a growl, and his hand veers toward your aching clit. You stop him short, grabbing his hand with a shudder.

“What are you doing?” You breathe against the needy, silken embrace of his mouth.

“You’ve been ever so generous,” he purrs. “Allow me to repay your charity in a language I speak proficiently.”

“No,” you break away from the kiss and his arms. Your head swims, bloodless and faint. Your heart hammers, trying to pump the blood no longer within your veins. You sway on your knees, and Astarion supports you with a hand on your shoulder lest you faceplant, “This isn’t a tit-for-tat offer, Astarion. There is no repayment. I am just one friend assisting another. That’s all.”

“I— You don’t want me?”

His genuine confusion encases your heart in a boiling bubble of sorrow, “You know I do, but not like this. I don’t want you if it’s compensation for my blood.”

“I’m sorry. It’s the only thing I know,” he looks bashful. If you didn’t know better, you would say he’s blushing, but that must be the rush of your blood through his veins. “Would you at least rest with me tonight while you're woozy? I will hear if anything untoward happens in camp, and I can protect both of us if need be.” He puts his hands up innocently, “I will keep my hands to myself. You have my word.”

“Do you think--" you trail off, bringing your hand to your forehead that seems to beat in time with your angry heart and groan. “That is to say— Could we —“

“Good Gods, sweetheart,” he chuckles. “Spit it out already before you lose consciousness. I did not take that much.”

Your arms drop by your sides, and you giggle with him, suddenly lethargic, “Never mind. I’ll sleep over here.”

“Now, who is being positively dumb,” he scoffs, clicking his tongue at you. “If you want to cuddle, you have but to ask. You know I do rather like cuddling with you.”

“If you know what I want,” you huff, rolling your eyes. “Why are you making a spectacle out of me?!”

“Entertainment,” he shrugs, laughing carefree and alight with humour.

“You’re terrible,” you mutter.

“I know,” he smirks, lying back and extending his arms, twitching his fingers in the come-hither motion. “Come on, love. Let’s have a cuddle, shall we?”

The bath water has turned cold by the time your eyes slide back open. You’re still lying at the bottom of the tub, in a watery grave like a sunken ship. How long have you been in here? Once your brain recognizes that you haven’t taken a breath in what could be hours, instinct takes over, and you propel yourself upright, coughing, sputtering, and gulping down the air furiously.

You scoff at yourself with antipathy. How long will it take for these responses to abate? When will your body just accept that you’re fucking dead?

Wrapping a plush towel around yourself, you listen for the comforting thud of Astarion’s heart but are only met with tomblike silence. It frightens you, making your stomach feel aflutter in your abdomen, reminding you of the Gur attack when you thought you lost him.

You slip into a long-sleeved, purple dress and tentatively peek outside. The velveteen embrace of twilight has cloaked the sky, but the cloud cover is thick, eclipsing the moonlight. You can smell the rain before the heavens have decided to cry. Reaching out to the bond, Astarion does not answer your call.

Fuck this.

You trot through the street, smelling the air. You wince with every step as the injury to your ankle smarts, but the bruising is already receding. It will not be long until it’s healed.

Unfortunately for you, the streets are still relatively busy, and your bloodlust is ever-present and a daunting task to control as you swerve and juke around people. Your mouth waters, and you shake your head like a wet dog to rid yourself of the smog that dampens and threatens to dwarf your self-restraint. The rain starts to drizzle, just as you predicted. The drops plane down your face, and you curse the skies because the scent of the rainfall on the dry stone of the street hampers your ability to detect much else.

You arrive at Wyrm's Crossing and follow the strong scent of blood outside a structure you are familiar with - the flophouse where Astarion's siblings were. The building is ominously dark and far too quiet. You sniff the air. It tastes almost bitter on your tongue, and it’s hard to focus on anything but the metallic richness, but you vaguely make out notes of rosemary and bergamot. You try to open the door, but it’s locked. Locks are hardly a challenge. You cast Knock and crack the door open. The fragrance of blood wafts so thickly in the air that you swear you almost see technicolour as you swoon.

It’s pitch-black inside, and your feet immediately come into contact with a stiff, cold mass on the floor, tripping you. Fire bursts to life in your palm, and mutilated bodies greet the illumination with milky eyes. Some have their intestines spilling out of their abdomens like gooey red ribbons. Others are missing the bottom of their jaw with their meaty tongues lolling out. These people were not just merely killed. They were brutalized, mutilated, and mauled.

A thick slick of congealing blood sloshes around your boots. It drips off the ceiling and down the walls like scarlet raindrops shed from dark skies, softly signifying sorrow's sharp sting. If your heart had not already hardened to macabre scenes like this, you imagine you would be sick. Instead, true to the monster you’ve become, it takes considerable effort not to drop to your knees and start lapping up the sanguine nectar like some thirsty mutt.

You are veritably shaking under the duress of temptation as you crawl over bodies to the one heartbeat that remains. Astarion sits at a table in an alcove in the back with a bottle of spirits clutched in his hand, several more littered around his feet on the floor. He stares abstractly at nothing, a million miles away, bleak and cold.

“Astarion…” you whisper, trying to get a decent look into his eyes.

“Darling?” His brows round when he looks at you, frowning and narrowing his glossy eyes. “You are afraid. Oh, no-no. Don’t be afraid. I didn’t mean to…” He’s confused, and it breaks your heart. “I killed them all, but I don’t remember. I am me now. I’m me - Astarion.”

“I know,” you purr, noticing that he seems to have to remind himself of who he is. “It’s okay.”

“Okay?” He scoffs, bringing the bottle to his lips and tilting his head back. He sways in his chair, causing it to creak, “This is about as far from okay as it gets. Did you not hear me? I killed them. I killed all of them.”

“I heard you,” you cradle his cheek and walk his gaze away from the body he seems fixed on. “We need to go home, Astarion. Before somebody finds us here.”

“Why?” He snaps, gesturing around with a satirical chuckle, “I will probably just kill them too. Or perhaps I will simply compel them to forget their names or their entire lives. Why stop there? How far do you think my power goes? Do you think I could compel them to forget how to breathe?”

“Astarion, please,” you slip the bottle from his fingers and crouch with your hand on his thigh. “Come with me.”

“I hurt you again today,” he sighs, staring at his empty hand with furrowed brows. “How do you sleep with me in the same residence? The same bed? How can you even stand to look at me? Gods. You must fucking hate me.”

“I don’t hate you,” you cannot help the tears pricking your eyes. He looks lost as his eyes roam aimlessly, climbing toward the ceiling. “I love you.”

“You love me… Do you regret it?” He whispers, curling his empty hand into a fist repeatedly as if he’s unsure if the hand he’s looking at belongs to him, “Helping me complete the Rite, allowing me to turn you, falling in love with me.”

“No,” your answer is immediate, and the uncompromising intonation surprises even you. “The only thing I regret is that we did not know enough about the Rite.”

“You’re lying,” he concludes, hollow, distant, and abject.

“Open the bond and check my truthfulness if you wish,” you retort. Your whole body shakes as you try to make sense of this broken man before you, “I wanted to be with you for eternity. Everything has a cost. I paid it willingly.”

“Do you know why I turned you?” He asks, face contorting with an anguish you did not believe you would ever see adorn his features again. The corners of his mouth are downturned, eyebrows dropping at the ends, “Do you know why I was so adamant that this was the only way our relationship could continue?”

“I don’t know, Astarion,” you sigh soft and sullen. “I don’t care. What’s done is done.”

“Tell me!” He snarls, slamming his fist into the table and cracking it down the middle, “Tell me why you think I did it! Tell me why you think I fucking killed you!”

You finally relent and sob openly. “Why do you do anything now, Astarion? You wanted to possess me, control me, own me, and make me your obedient puppet.”

“No, my love,” he heaves a tremulous sigh, shaking his head. His eyes are vacant and unseeing, blinking slowly. “Nothing so sinister as that. I was afraid. I was still fucking afraid. I knew you would age and die while I remained the same forever. You would leave me alone again, and I feared a world, a life, without you. I took your life and bound you to me for eternity for no other reason than selfishness, but I always was remarkably selfish. Wasn’t I?” Astarion gazes around at the grisly affair of his making, “Why can’t I remember? I am sick. Aren’t I?”

“We will save you,” you slip your finger under his chin like he’s done to you so often and direct his gaze to yours. Your eyes blister with resolve, and your voice bleeds the same, trying to fill him with strength, “But I need you to keep fighting, Astarion. You must not give up.”

“For you,” he murmurs as his eyes finally appear cognizant. Astarion slides out of his chair, descending to his knees before you like you made you do a lifetime ago, and wraps his arms around you. He presses his cheek against your stomach and whimpers, fingers curling into your clothes. “I will fight to my last, my love.”

Sunlight filters into the window, golden rays bathing the room as your eyes flutter open. You nuzzle against the silk pillowcase before your mind bombards you with memories of your skin loosening, dripping, cracking, and the agony that arrested even screams from your throat. You nearly leap off the bed in terror, but solid arms wrap around your waist, pulling your back against the strong muscles of a warm chest.

“It’s okay,” Astarion purrs, grappling with your trashing. He places a soft kiss on your shoulder. “I am here. The sun cannot harm you. I’ve got you, sweetheart.”

It takes your still hazy consciousness a moment to accept the promise of safety before you relax in his embrace with a sigh and roll over to face Astarion, looping your arms around him and burying your face in the crook of his neck. You can smell his blood pumping through his veins just below the surface of that pristine, silken skin, and your mouth waters. Your body urges you to bite, stomach knotting into cramps with the promise of that aromatic, richly decadent blood.

So close.

Before you know what you’re doing, your mouth is open, fangs hovering, and your body seizes. Astarion laughs genuinely, such a sparkling, airy rumble from his perfect lips as they pull into a smile against your cheek.

“Well, good morning to you, too.” He giggles, pushing you away, shaking his head with that playful glower, “Can’t get enough? I’m not surprised.” Astarion sinks his fangs into the fanning veins of his wrist and holds it out to you. “Remember, no biting and mind your teeth.”

You’re almost drooling at the oneiric vision of the weeping wounds. The scent of his blood is intoxicating - warm, full-bodied ferrous. The bright red drink of the Gods is a stark contrast to his pale skin, and it takes everything you have in you not to lunge for it. The offer of his blood is new and a little unsettling if you’re being honest.

“Go ahead,” his eyes dart to his dribbling wrist, brows furrowing at your hesitation. “This is no trick. Feed.”

He looks contrite, but there is a new tenderness in the way his eyes are fixed on you like you are shelter from the storm brewing behind his scarlet irises. You cannot handle it any longer. You take his wrist as gently as your fumbling fingers can possibly manage in your near frenzied bloodlust, bringing your lips to the wound. It tastes even better straight from his body, and your eyes roll back with a moan as you focus with a substantial amount of effort on drawing in slow, measured sips instead of trying to drain him dry in an instant.

“That’s enough,” Astarion instructs eventually, tugging his wrist just slightly. You could never get enough of this ambrosia on your tongue, descending into your stomach and making your nerves combust with delight. Your grip tightens on his wrist, and you growl at him, low and throaty.

“Hells,” Astarion groans pleasurably, eyes rolling back. His body trembles with excitement and pleasure. He enjoys this as much as you. He shakes his arm roughly and commands a little more harshly this time. “Love. I said that’s enough. Don’t be a greedy thing now.”

It’s enough to crack the haze that’s fallen over your mind, and you throw yourself from back, detaching from his wrist with panicked breaths. You’re sure when you look at him again, you will be staring at the embodiment of Mephistopheles psychosis, “I’m sorry, Astarion. I’m sorry.”

“Hey-hey,” Astarion coos deeply, like a warm auditory hug on a cold winter’s night. “It’s alright. I’m not angry.”

“You’re not?” You cannot help the stain of surprise that blooms in your voice.

“No, love,” he chuckles, his fingers pressing into your waist, encouraging you to cuddle, and you curl up against his side. He sweeps his thumb across your lower lip, gathering the blood smeared on it and pops it into his mouth with a sly grin. “I was a young vampire too, once upon a century, and I was certainly over-enthusiastic with my consumption of you the first time. It takes time. I can help you with it. We can practice like this.”

Your brows furrow, creasing as you try to think through the residual film of mist. This man is entirely too perplexing. It feels like you’re always trying to run from him, convincing yourself that everything is a trick, that you must be on guard at all times so you don’t get close, but is this just a way for you to hide from what you fear most of all - that you will be unable to save him, and you will lose him all over again.

There’s just no fucking time for this anymore. There is no more time to lose.

Astarion directs your gaze to him, “What’s going on in that beautiful mind?”

“Do you remember what you said last night?”

Astarion’s brows round, and the corners of his eyes crinkle, “Yes.”

“Was any of it real?” You murmur, pushing yourself upright so you can look at him. You request the bond, and Astarion and you unite, transcending time and space, melding together. It takes you a moment to gather yourself, “Or were you just drunk?”

“I meant every word.” Astarion turns suddenly serious, sitting and sagging against the headboard, “I wish to speak to you about something.”

“Are you okay?”

“I am fine.” He combs his fingers through his hair, “You called me Master. I do not wish you to call me that - think of me in those terms. Is that how you see me? As your… ugh,” he casts his eyes to the ceiling, “Master ?”

“No,” you snap, but it’s a lie, and you know it, which means he knows it through the union. You backpedal, “Yes. It is what you are, Astarion. Whether you or I like it, I am your spawn, and you are my master. This is just reality. It will do us no good to pretend that the dynamic of our relationship is different.”

Disappointment slashes across the bond like a blade cutting into your heart. It’s so strong that it physically aches in your chest, and you splay your hand across it and whimper.

Astarion shakes his head, eyes downcast, “I do not want to be your master, little love. I never did. I did not make you a regular spawn.”

“I’m not sure I follow, Astarion. What do you mean you didn’t make me a regular spawn? What other kind of spawn is there?”

Astarion squeezes his eyes shut momentarily, taking a deep breath, the muscles in his jaw twitching. He leans, opens a drawer and produces a book that looks ancient. Its cover is dulled by timeless centuries, and its spine is broken with loose pages precariously tucked in. His fingers tap the book, staring at it as if he dreads what he’s about to do.

He gives you a skeptical sideways look and passes you the book, “Page 152.”

Opening the book, you flip through the musty, yellowed pages until you reach page 152, titled “The Dark Kiss.” You scan the page, reading it once, twice, three times while Astarion stares at you with an unreadable expression. You can feel him in your head, looking through your eyes, thrusting into the folds of your mind, penetrating the softness of your soul, caressing your most intimate thoughts.

There’s trepidation in him. Your soul practically quivers under the weight of his unease. He is afraid of your reaction, and the entity within him is stoking those glowing embers of worry with its babbling breaths of affirmations, trying to ignite an inferno of fear that will melt through the shackles of his control.

“You need to explain this to me, Astarion,” you gawk at him, swallowing thickly as the information slowly sinks in. You’re unsure if the nervousness making your stomach warp is truly yours or his.

“I made you my bride – consort,” he does not look at you when he speaks. His eyes stare blankly at his twitching fingers. “How many times did I bite you that night?”

“Uh,” you squeeze your eyes shut, trying to recall the memory fogged over from blood loss, “Three. Once when we had sex, once on my wrist, and then my neck.”

Astarion nods, “I don’t remember much from that night, high as I was on the power of 7000 souls, but I do recall my intent. I bit you three times, as described in the book you’re holding, and then gave you my own blood. I told you this bond was unique to you and me because it’s only shared with a bride.”

“I’m sorry.” You rack your fingers through your hair, tousling it into an incomprehensible mess to match your whirling, tangled thoughts, “Are you trying to tell me that we are - what? Vampire married?”

Astarion smirks at the bewilderment adorning your face but looks bashful, “I suppose that’s an accurate description, yes.”

“And you declined to tell me this until now because?”

“Honestly?” Astarion’s eyes drift once again to the ceiling, “I meant to. I had every intention of telling you the truth, and then... I enjoyed the power, the superiority I had over you. I saw fear in your eyes when you looked at me, and I liked it. I liked you believing you were nothing. I wanted to revel in it. It fed the sickness within, and then I was... lost for a while.”

“What does this mean for me exactly?” It takes incredible effort to keep the rising panic from your voice.

Astarion’s eyes widen as your whirlwind of terror is added to the mixture of emotions between you, “It means you’re not quite a spawn, not quite a True Vampire, but as close as one could get while still being bound to me and under my control should I choose to exert it over you. I believe it can be reversed, should you wish it so. I’d have to do a little research--”

“No!” you blurt out in a yelping retort that makes Astarion flinch. He assumes your anxiety is due to being bound to him in such a way, you realize. The truth of it is your panic is a shadow looming over the increasingly dire odds of everything you stand to lose.

A friend. A lover. A partner. A... husband?

You smirk at the notion, pushing away that worry - you have time to worry later. Right now, you want to enjoy this. It’s the closest you have gotten to Astarion telling you he loves you. Perhaps, the closest you will ever get, and some sad speck of your soul laps at that wound and dabs it with this new information as if it might cure the incurable.

“Well,” you shift into his lap, leaning into the asylum he’s promising you through the bond, “I’m definitely going to start calling you husband now. I hope you’re prepared for that.”

“HA!” Astarion giggles, shaking his head with an endearingly lop-sided grin. His unkempt silver curls fall and bounce carelessly, “But of course. I can deny you nothing, wife. I wish to try and undo what he,” he corrects himself. “…I did - your name. I might be able to reverse it, but I’m not entirely sure how. You need to trust me, and I can feel you do not.”

You’re a little bemused that there is something Astarion doesn’t know how to do, and you grin at him, your fangs peeking out of your lips.

“Good Gods,” he rolls his eyes at you with a heartwarming smirk. “I am all-powerful, not all-knowing. Compelling is instinctive. Releasing it is another story entirely.”

You want to trust him. Gods above, you long to trust him like you used to, but how can you, given what you know? You wrench on the tide of the bond, causing it to spill and break over you as ocean waves crash upon boulders that dare protrude from its surface. You scour the chords of the harmony, picking them apart note by note, feeling for any sign of manipulation, deceit, or ill intent. Astarion flinches, squeezing his eyes shut with a wheeze, but he does not attempt to stop your search. You find nothing, but then again, he is the Vampire Ascendant. If he wants to hide something from you, he will.

If you want to get your name back, you have little choice.

“Do it,” you confirm.

“Look into my eyes,” Astarion purrs in a deep baritone. “Remember, I don’t know exactly what I’m doing.”

Bringing your eyes to his, the crimson in his eyes sparks alive, like little matches aglow in the red sea, and you have never seen sparks quite so beautiful.

The sensation starts mellow, like the flow of a calm spring, as it trickles through your mind. It feels like liquid fingers whispering against your psyche. The sensation makes your skin prickle, and goosebumps erupt all over. You want to shudder, but your body cannot move. Tributaries branch off and stream until your whole brain feels like it is being grasped by a hand.

And that’s where the pain begins in a sudden influx, a steely, jarring stab, and it feels like his fingers are in your brain, parting every crimp, crease, bend and wrinkle like you are a tome to be read. You’re unsure how long you can take this as he picks your mind apart, looking for whatever compulsion does. You manage to let out a whine, and his eyes flick.

“I know it hurts,” he soothes. “Just a little more, I think. Can you hold on?”

You can only whimper your response. You’re not sure if it sounds like a no or a yes. He continues his dismantling forage, ferreting around in your mind. Suddenly, something changes. All those tributaries and calm, flowing springs snap into one spot, and white-hot pain blooms in your eyesight, blinding you. You’re positive he’s cutting a piece of brain matter right out of your skull. You want to writhe, to scream, to beg him to stop, but you cannot.

You wonder if you might pass out, and then you hope you pass out as the pain becomes more than you can bear. Sharp, like a red-hot blade, has punctured your skull, pierced your brain, and is now broiling against your grey matter. Your vision starts to tunnel, black borders encroaching, blurring everything but the glow from Astarion’s eyes.

Just as you think you're going to lose consciousness, a knot untangles, an invisible barrier crumples, and the bondage on your body eases.

“Hey,” Astarion jostles you, fingers brushing sweaty strands of hair behind your ear. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” you breathe shakily. “It’s fine. Did it work?”

“I think so?” Astarion rubs the back of his head. “There’s only one way to know for sure. Do you remember your name?”

You think hard, trying to pull it from the deepest recesses of your memories, but you can’t remember it. “No.” You sigh, “Can you say it to me?”

“Illyria?”

Big thank you for everyone who takes the time to read/reblog/comment, and all the other magnificent things. As always, please enjoy ☺️

AO3 [Crossposted]

Master List of Chapters: Fangs and Fractured Hearts

If you're interested I write another fic with Spawn Astarion x Tav called - Shadows of the Past

Small Notes:

Yay! Tav can hear her name, but does she actually remember it?

I'm leaning into the "Dark Kiss" bride/consort theory because why not?

#ascended astarion #astarion fanfic #bg3 #bg3 astarion #astarion x you #astarion #bg3 fanfiction #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion smut #astarion x oc #astarion x named tav #fangs and fractured hearts

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sparkles-rule-4eva · 3 days

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Alrighty! @number-one-shadisper-shipper and I binged the Knuckles series today, so time for thoughts! SPOILER ALERT.

I'll admit the show wasn't perfect. I've seen the negative reviews, and I kinda get where they come from. BUT! I did enjoy this show greatly! And I'm not here to complain. Time for some happy thoughts, y'all! 💙🤩

I think you need to have a love, not just tolerance, for the SCU in order to properly enjoy this show. I do have such, so I had a lot of fun with it.

There were definitely scenes from every episode that had me either squealing, laughing, crying, or flipping out. But my favorite was likely the first episode, because come on, we saw the Wachowski family! Most of them, anyway! While I missed Tom's presence, I was grateful for that comment from Maddie about him being "out of town," so he wasn't just gone for no reason.

The SECOND it showed our three space babies hanging out together in their room?! I SCREAMED. THE BOYS!!!!

Tails sitting on his bed tinkering with one of his gizmos, Sonic rocking out to music with an air guitar, and Knuckles exercising from one of the ceiling planks. IT'S THEM!!! They're just hanging out, doing their thing, looking oh so much like brothers. And Sonic's narration at the beginning was GOLD. 🤣💙

Even though we didn't get enough of Maddie being a parent, we definitely got a nice chunk for it only lasting part of an episode. Maddie called Knuckles "one of our kids" (that had me SCREECHING). The angry mama vibes were GOLDEN. 🤣 The way she made breakfast for them, the "Boys, breakfast is ready!" I love the normalcy of it! Can't wait to see more in the future! (Her calling to them with "boys" is somehow just the sweetest thing and I'm melting.)

The poor mailman being like "I just wanna go home, man" 🤣

We were right, fellas, Knuckles had no idea what being grounded meant. 🤣 Although the way Sonic piped up with "Oh, I definitely know what it means," has me suspecting that Sonic himself has gotten grounded a decent amount before. 😂

Knuckles trying to talk back, and Maddie going, "ExCUSE ME?!" then just making those tiny, terrifying noises and Sonic being like "Bro don't mess with Mom when she's mad" (okay, he didn't say "mom" and that made me sad, but the mom vibes were 110% there so I'm here for it). 😂 And since Knuckles snuck out and later Wade said, several times, "Aren't you grounded?" seems to confirm that this entire show is basically what Knuckles does when he's grounded. 🤣 Although ... his comment about not being able to be grounded because he had no home made me very sad. 😭

I did not have an issue with so much Wade screentime! Sure, he isn't my favorite SCU character, but I love what this show did with him! I'd already seen his moments in the movies (like nearly shooting Robotnik in the face with an actual handgun). I like how they gave him actual family issues; a dad who abandoned him and his family, a realistic sister, a mom. Bad family memories. Awkward reunions. They could've made it a joke, but they didn't, and I greatly appreciate that. Especially since I've witnessed firsthand how painful family separations can be. 😔

All the emotional talks Wade and Knuckles had caught me off guard in the best way! The way they talked about their different family issues, the way they talked of betrayal from friends, and being left alone, hit way harder than I was prepared for. Especially that talk they had at the burger place in the middle of the night? Oof. Good talk right there.

Also, even though they took a "show don't tell" take with it, I loved how Knuckles relaxed more and more throughout the show. In the beginning, he couldn't rest, he couldn't sit back and have a genuine good time. But the more he hung out with Wade and his family, the more he learned. He learned about music and found "his jam" (that was literally amazing btw). He watched movies with Mrs. Whipple and ate snacks in the hotel room in Reno and watched more movies. He had his teenager moments of rolling his eyes and rebelling, but he was so well portrayed here, I loved it. I felt for him.

Despite the bizarre nature of the episode "Flames of Disaster," (we were cracking up so hard) I'm trying to glean bits of the truth of Knuckles's story from the crazy musical play that Pachacamac put on in Wade's dream. I mean, "Longclaw" and her tribe were there, and ... what the heck was that giant demon thing?! Iblis?! Does our Knuckles Wachowski have an actual history with freaking Iblis?!?! 😱🔥

I was deeply intrigued by the two main antagonists, especially at the implication that G.U.N. did seem to exist before the events of the first movie?! Did it exist, get disbanded after the Maria incident, then get reformed?! My brain is exploding. 🤯 I was even more shocked that they apparently died? I guess I shouldn't be surprised, the Wachowski kids don't seem to have much qualms about getting rid of the baddies for good as the game versions do. That was a terrifying phenomenon, what happened with the two rings. 🫣

And then the Buyer getting crushed by the giant glass ball 👀

Although in those last two episodes, I admit I was freaking out and legitimately near tears at Wade's seemingly having to "betray" Knuckles. Before the reveal that all was in good communication, all I could think was how relaxed Knuckles finally seemed, chilling in the hotel room, being excited about whatever Wade wanted to "show" him, questioning whether it was a song, him declaring that he was going to bring his favorite hat, 🥹 all I could think was of their previous discussions about betrayal from friends and family, and when Knuckles called Wade "my friend" right before the elevator doors closed, I just about sobbed. I was like "please, don't let him be betrayed, don't let him have come all this way and relaxed so much only to get 'betrayed' once again by someone he's come to consider a friend." 😭 We heaved a HUGE sigh of relief when it revealed he was aware of the trap the whole time. 😪

Maternal instincts went nuts when he got so badly hurt in that final battle 😭 I literally reached for the screen several times and was right back to almost weeping 🥲 And someone tell me I wasn't the only one noticing the parallel in that scene with Wade standing in front of his unconscious body the way Tom did with Sonic in the first movie. That, PLUS Knuckles's epic comeback, and his retrieval of his own power?!?! EPIC!!!!

The ending was abrupt, sure, but the pure joy on Knuckles's face after everything as he jumped up to high five Wade was just too sweet. 🥹

So yes, even though I would have loved just a little more, a return to Green Hills, a reunion with Maddie, Sonic, and Tails, I adored this show. It was a wild ride, full of laughs, tears, excited screeching, etc. 💙💛❤️ I don't care what anyone says, nothing will make me hate it.

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mixelation · 16 hours

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oh here's some toxicity (reborn au au). it's torito u_u

In another world, the assurance that Itachi would never leave her behind would be enough for Tori. She would find it comforting. She would move on.

In this world, she really didn’t see why violent revenge couldn’t be her solution.

“If you’re so mad about it,” Obito drawled at her, “just kill him yourself.”

Obito had thrown himself lazily over the armchair in the corner of her room, right on top of a pair of pants and a sweater she’d worn once and wanted to wear again before she washed them. The chair didn’t match anything else in the room, but it was comfortable. Obito had put it there himself, rescued from an Uchiha elder’s house after they’d died.

(Of natural causes, he’d assured her.)

He was the primary person who ever sat in it, besides Tori’s laundry. He did it with the lazy decadence of a king in his throne.

Tori, cross-legged on her bed, pouted back at him. The point wasn’t really that someone killed that guy. It was the intense loyalty the act would mean for her. Had Obito and Minato not both slaughtered absurd numbers of people in an act of love? She wanted that. She wanted someone who liked her like that.

Would it be bad to break up with her fake-boyfriend if he wouldn’t real-murder for her…?

She had no idea how to explain all this to Obito without sounding completely unhinged. Instead she said, “I’d kill someone for Itachi.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” Obito countered immediately.

“I killed Danzo for him,” Tori said.

“No,” Obito said, rolling his ankle in the air. He twirled a finger at her. “You convinced Danzo to do something stupid that got him killed because you get off on leading people to their doom.”

Tori pouted some more.

“I’m glad sensei backed you up,” Obito said eventually, carefully not looking directly at her. His legs were over one arm of the chair, and he rolled an ankle in a loose circle. “You’re okay, right? Besides your unquenchable thirst for vengeance?”

A sly smile cracked over Tori’s lips. He had shown up the second she was finally in her own home.

“Aaaw,” she cooed. “Were you worried about me?”

Obito rolled his eyes and finally looked at her. “I just think if you get any more traumatized, you might actually figure out how to destroy the world. It’s the natural escalation of things.”

“You would know,” Tori replied. She unfolded her legs and scooted forward to sit on the edge of the bed closest to him. “Hey, Itachi spent the night the first night.”

Obito frowned at her. “What, you need a babysitter?”

“You could sit outside on the balcony like a gargoyle,” Tori replied. “Bark at passers by. You know.”

“Oooh,” Obito replied, dipping his head back as he leaned into the joke. “Oh, yeah, I could guard the whole apartment. My poor partner was traumatized, after all. I’ll keep anyone from coming in and bothering you. I’ll set up traps and chase your neighbors off. Maybe put up a blockade in the road.”

“Deidara will love this,” Tori said.

“Deidara is one of the people I’m chasing away,” Obito replied smartly.

They joked. They talked about silly, unimportant things. Tori watched Obito intently as they chatted. She liked seeing him like this, she thought. Obito was fun when he was relaxed and just fucking around.

He looked good too, she decided. She missed the mask, but Obito definitely had a nice face. He had the pretty Uchiha cheekbones and a strong jaw, and the messy dark hair worked on him. Plus, he was tall and broad-shouldered and well-muscled and… hmm.

Hmm.

Obito started absentmindedly doing little kicks with his feet like a school girl while he groused about how much of the block he could get Deidara to blow up, just by being annoying.

Tori decided to change her strategy.

xXx

“I decided I want to break up,” Tori told Itachi.

“Oh,” Itachi said, frowning down at her. “Why? I’m amenable to making changes.”

Tori shook her head.

“I don’t mind helping you, or hanging out with you on dates,” she said. “But I realized this arrangement means I can’t pursue my own romantic interests.”

“Ah,” Itachi said. “I didn’t realize you had those.”

Neither did I, Tori thought.

She nodded and waited to see if Itachi would say more. Maybe he would offer to murder or beat up the person she was interested in. That might make her stay.

“I suppose that’s reasonable,” Itachi said after a beat. “Thank you for helping me. Would you mind if I said I was too heartbroken to date for a while?”

“Um,” Tori replied. “Maybe we should say we decided we’d be better as friends so we don’t mess that up, and you can say you want time to think about what you want out of a dating partner.”

Itachi nodded thoughtfully and continued to not offer to kill for her.

Oh well. She tried.

xXx

When Obito jimmied open her window, Tori looked up from her desk like she’d been expecting him. Which, she probably was. Obito loved gossip.

He flopped directly from the window sill into his chair and steepled his fingers.

“So,” he said. He leered at her, lips pulling back from his teeth. “Did you break Itachi’s heart? Did he break yours? Tell me everything.”

Tori rolled her eyes and pushed her chair back from her desk. Instead of the usual sweatpants she preferred when just sitting around her room, she was wearing one of her little sundresses. She brushed her hair over her shoulder as she eyed him.

“I decided I might want to pursue my own interests,” she said bluntly.

Obito raised his eyebrows. “Oh yeah?” he said. “Found some other sucker to sic on your enemies? Teenaged romances are so dramatic nowadays.”

Tori stood.

“I think that’s part of the problem,” she said. “I’m not really a teenager, am I?”

She ran her hands through the signs for a henge, and then a twenty year old Tori was standing in front of him. It was a better aging up than most teens could manage– Tori, after all, had once been physically an adult. She knew the subtleties of her own face and how her body would change with age.

“Interesting strategy,” Obito said, unsure where this was going. Was she planning to use a henge to seduce someone older? Was Itachi about to lose to some two-bit chump who liked women in short skirts just because they’d agree to murder some other two-bit chump for Tori? That would be hilarious.

Tori took a step towards him, and then another. She got close enough that the hem of her skirt brushed against his knee, and Obito suddenly realized that Tori’s skirt was quite short, wasn’t it?

“I decided I wanted to pursue more… adult interests,” Tori said, and then suddenly she was in his lap.

“Wait,” Obito said, voice cracking. “Tori, what are you doing?”

Her hand went over his chin, her thumb and fingers squeezing his cheeks. Obito found this did alarming things to his insides.

“Have I told you how much prettier your face is than it should be?” Tori said. Her thumb moved up and down his right cheek. “How about you let me mess it up again, and I’ll help you put your eye in Kakashi’s head?”

“What?” Obito full-on squeaked.

He could overpower her and push her off. He didn’t. He felt frozen, transfixed by her eyes, dark and heavy as she looked at him.

His heart pounded away in his chest. This was ridiculous, though. This was just Tori. She was probably angling to trick him into letting her store lab supplies in kamui or something.

Then why the henge? He thought. Tori wasn’t above flirting to get what she wanted, but it was rarely her first choice strategy. He had no idea why it would be her strategy with him.

The henge is the problem, he decided, hands sweaty. Sixteen year old Tori wasn’t hot. She just wasn’t; she was a teenager. He didn’t… he didn’t remember ever thinking adult Tori was all that hot either, but she’d never crawled into his lap. Maybe it was just the nostalgia this was calling up for him. Or maybe any pretty woman could get this reaction out of him.

Pretty? No, fuck– well. Either way. He could just get rid of the henge.

“No, stop that,” Tori said when he activated his sharingan. Her hand immediately went over his eyes. This did even more alarming things to his insides.

“Oh, because the sharingan is so easily stopped,” Obito heard himself drawl back at her.

His hands were gripping the arms of his chair instead of stopping her. This was bad. Many abilities of the sharingan could not be stopped simply by covering it, but covering it sure did stop him from seeing unsexy, henge-free Tori.

He felt her shift, leaning forward. Her hair tickled his cheek and he could feel the heat of her body on his skin. When she spoke, he felt her breath on his lips.

“Then stop me, if you want to,” she said.

Obito gripped the chair harder. Tori shifted again, her hand staying over his eyes. She pressed her lips against his.

I am going to stop this, Obito thought, and then instead kissed her back.

Obito had only ever kissed Rin before, which had been weird and also terrible. This was also weird and terrible, but in a way where he didn’t want it to stop. Tori was familiar. She knew about the absolute darkest parts of him, and he wasn’t entirely convinced she wouldn’t murder him if given the chance. But she did know him, from his favorite bad jokes to his stint as a super villain.

She broke the kiss first.

“Are you going to be a good boy now?” she asked.

It was embarrassing that he found her wording hot.

“For you? Always,” he replied.

She removed her hand from his eyes. He deactivated the sharingan, studying her face. He set his hands and her hips and then trailed them up her waist, and he watched as she bit her bottom lip in response. He liked that.

There was no way she was doing this if she didn’t want something. Unfortunately, her method had worked in that he did now very much want to give it to her. But what would Tori want…?

“So you want that guy killed?” Obito asked.

Tori’s eyes lit up. It was… extremely cute. Fuck.

#reborn au au: it's gotten sillier #my writing

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somethingsomethingwords · 3 days

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Hello hello hello!!! This was born because I needed more Nando being besotted and Lance getting some deserved rest, no other reasons. Thank you for reading. Enjoy 💜.

Fernando was starting to feel some not so vague sense of annoyance at himself.

He and Lance were supposed to go on a date, the first one in a while, because their lives were chaotic and busy as hell.

They were both in Canada, Lance staying home, relaxing after a rough start of the season and some previous commitments, while Fernando was there for some sponsor event that absolutely required his presence, not at all having begged for something to do in Canada, granting him an excuse to be near the other man.

But he must have prayed a little too hard, because not only the event had run later than programmed, but it was followed by a long wait in the car due to the heavy traffic.

While he was sitting in the car, he started making a mental list of all the things he would have to do to make it up to Lance.

The young man had been so happy about finally having some time off together. Despite being visibly tired, he had made some plans, and the promise of more to come once they were back home.

It was strange to think about a manor in a forest as a home for Fernando, but it wasn't home, not really, just like his own house in Monaco wasn't. It was Lance that made every single building that they were in a home.

Love-safety-protection.

But right now, he had to think on how to apologise, because Lance must have been mad as hell.

Usually, when Fernando was late, Lance would write him a text every 10 minutes until he arrived. It was his way of annoying him and still making sure he knew he cared.

Now, it had been radio silence the whole evening. He prayed Lance would let him in, even if just to take a change of clothes.

When he finally arrived, he parked the car and went to the front door.

It was strange, because it was getting dark, but he couldn't see any of the lights on.

He started feeling worried. What if Lance was so mad he left? What if he fell and knocked himself out?

He took a deep breath and opened the door.

First things first, he turned on the lights, and he was going to scream Lance's name, when he finally saw the Canadian.

He was lying on his very comfy sofa, asleep and without his shirt on, because on his chest was napping a peaceful looking blonde baby, thumb in her mouth, wrapped in a blanket, that he recognised as Lance's favourite, and protected by Lance's arm around her. Her cheek rested on his naked skin, seeking his warmth and lulled by his heart beat.

Oh.

This tender moment, the softness of niece and uncle bundled together and asleep in the safety of a house Lance promptly opened to Fernando, it was getting to him.

He could almost see Lance with another baby, their hair brown as their eyes, grins mischievous and big smiles, crawling slowly on this same parquet, then running on some sandy beach, speaking fast English then Spanish then French then Italian, their pale skin easily turned red by the sun.

He could see them starting karting, or playing hockey, or maybe wanting nothing to do with sports.

He could see them graduating, moving out, having a family of their own, while he and Lance grew old and grey, happy and satisfied and together.

Together. It seemed impossible, but maybe it wasn't, after all.

The thoughts of a home somewhere quiet, a ring and a child filled his mind, and he softly smiled at a future now lying sleeping on a couch.

At that exact moment, the baby girl started waking up, moving her little arms and softly whining.

He could see Lance starting to wake up as well and decided to intervene. He smiled at the baby, picking her up and gently rocking her. He bent over his lover, and left a kiss in his hairline.

"Keep sleeping cariño, I got her" he whispered, melting at the sight of Lance relaxing once more and mumbling something along the lines of "safe with you".

He rose up and walked to the kitchen. There was already a bag for the baby full of clothes and diapers and baby bottles.

"Are you hungry, mi amor, or you didn't agree with waking up, uh? Your uncle is the same, don't worry" he said, while waiting to understand what she needed: that was pretty clear when she put her whole fist in her mouth.

"Hungry it is. Just give me five minutes, and don't eat your hand" he laughed softly, before sitting her on the high chair Lance had stressed over while buying.

He quickly heated up the milk, making sure it wasn't too hot before feeding it to the girl. She hungrily took it, and made her way through it, almost finishing it all, before pulling away.

Fernando took her up, and started walking, gently tapping her back until she burped. He then cleaned her up, and returned to the living room.

The moment her eyes were on Lance, the baby tried to reach for him.

Fernando giggled and re-wrapped her in the blanket, depositing her once again on his chest.

Instinctively, Lance put his arm around the baby, and their breaths soon synchronised.

Fernando was left once again the only one awake. He decided to wait for Lance to wake up, sitting on the armchair near his head, just at touching distance. He started passing his hand through the younger man's hair, and was rewarded by a deep sigh of happiness.

Date night could wait, when they had a baby to take care of and some well deserved rest to look forward to.

#strollonso #fernando alonso #lance stroll #grumpy cat boy x besotted old man #yes this is what i think about daily #but can you blame me #them being soft and warm is my roman empire

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trashcigs · 3 days

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what they notice first ・ 피원하모니 crush!neutral reader + word count 0.9k genre fluff, crushing cw not proof-read — more 👩‍🦰

keeho, your appearance

heart eyes, heart eyes, heart eyes. keeho just admires you, you're just so ethereal.

treasures photos of you like a soldier going to war. photobooth film strips will be decoed on his bedroom walls, will keep Polaroids of you two on the back of his phone and have the most horrendous (your words not his) goofy .5 photos of you in his camera roll ( he really loves them tho )

when you look away from him to choose a pastry at your favourite cafe, he's looking admiring you through his sunglasses. he loves everything about you, he constantly tells himself that God has favorites.

keeho feels like the entire world is slowing down whenever he looks at you. means every single word, whenever he calls you gorgeous or pretty

will melt into a puddle if you compliment him too

taeyang, your facial expressions

finds the way you move intriguing, laughing at your facial expressions every chance he gets

theo is also very expressive with his emotions, so to see someone who also can't hide them is so endearing to him.

loves the facial expressions you make whenever you find something you like or remember an important detail to a story. the slightly audible gasp, the hand over your mouth, the eyes widening and then darting towards him

when someone you don't like passes the both of you in the library, the disgusted look you both give the person and then each other. barely finding being able to hold in your laughter after seeing the other.

usually ends up finding himself on his bed giggling over the way you gave him a very warm and loving expression, kicking his feet under the duvet and giggling like mad man

jiung, your smile

jiung likes to think that your smile was the first thing that captivated him. he's the type of person who would be having a terrible morning but the moment he sees you smile its suddenly the best day of his life.

he usually finds himself smiling when you're smiling, cheek in his hand, his lips curved up -- eyes like crescents. looks like the snoopy image, stares at you like you hung up the stars. he always does whatever he can to see it, whether that be telling awful jokes, or mimicking anime characters anything that would crack a smile on your face he will do

its even worse when you compliment his gummy smile. completely faltering when you wave goodbye and send a soft smile his way. my friend, he's a goner 🙏

intak, your laugh

intak immediately finds his eyes darting towards you after saying a crappy joke, just to hear and see you laugh

and omg when you do, he's never been happier. will laugh along but only because your laugh makes him so giddy. it's so bad that he recognizes your laughter from distance. he just knows that voice is coming from you.

your laugh is a perfect melody, has never failed to put him into a good mood. he's pretty proud knowing that he can make anyone laugh at his jokes, but for you? he wouldnt mind trying a bit harder

intak thinks your laugh is the most majestic melody bestowed upon this very earth ( his words not mine). when he scrolls through his camera roll to see a video of you laughing at him for losing in a game of basketball at the arcade, he needs to grab the nearest wall before his legs give out on him.

and he's so bad a hiding it. grinning from ear to ear amd eyes turning into crescents whenever he hears you laugh. ( he'll try to turn away because the sound of your laughter is still ringing in his ears and making him giggle like a school girl i front of you)

soul, your eyes

soul really adores your eyes. it's always so full of love. he usually finds himself gazing your way too often. he thinks he's being subtle but you can him bending his neck looking your way every once in a while.

but when your eyes meet he feels the cloud parting and the sun rays shining on him your eyes, finds himself gazing into your ways way too often. when your eyes meet he feels the clouds parting and sun rays bestowing upon him, his body floating to the heavens above.

looses himself too easily, whenever you're arguing and he needs to look up at you he falters. he can't argue with someone who has big beautiful eyes. whatever you say gorgeous

loves how expressive your eyes are , leaning on his hand to stare at them from afar

watches the way your eyes crinkle over the smallest things, they way they shine when he gets one of your favorite snacks!

he definitely has a emoticon dedicated to your big beautiful eyes.

jongseob, your hands

it's the way your hands hold so much warmth that he has the urge to lean into your touch, even if it's for a few seconds ( maybe when he gains the courage )

whenever both your hands brush against each other, seob tries to act slick and nonchalant but his body completely betrays him dating his eyes between your hands your face, and the book in front of him. wondering if you had noticed, if you did it on purpose, if you felt disgusted but will mutter w a small sorry and when you reply its okay he tries to hide his smile behind a book.

does find himself looking at your hands, wondering what it would be like to hold them if they were brushing through his hair if they were on him. he's usually the first the notice if you've done anything with your nails

and compliments you on the new nail sets, the colour, or even the gems. will send you inspo photos for your next visit to the nail salon. ( when you invite him over he loses it )

additional note: jongseob seems like the person who loves to make handmade gifts, bracelets, necklaces, rings -- anything. when he sees you wear them tho he does a doubke take, ( hold his hand n he's sure he can die in peace right then and there

notebook 학! (학!)학 (학 ) 학교안 갔어

taglist ???

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galvanizedfriend · 2 days

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Klaroline Fic: The Wolf IV [01/13]

Summary: Five years after the downfall of the Mikaelson family, Caroline returns to New Orleans to fulfill the promise she made to Marcel: one day, she would be back for the man he has been keeping prisoner in the bowels of the old compound, and she would not be leaving without him. But the plans to abandon the city's eternal loop of tragedy behind once and for all are thwarted when a new enemy with unexpected old ties resurfaces, threatening not just Eve's life, but Caroline's as well.

S04E01 Gather Up the Killers ✨

The thing about finally getting something you longed for what feels like an eternity is the accompanying dread that it might be taken away.

Even after five years, Marcel is still not used to having it. Peace.

Nobody tells you how unsettling peace is. How it manifests as a constant nagging in the back of your mind, like you're forgetting something, getting soft, letting your guard down. It's quiet and harmonious, yes, but it's also a kind of fear. A cold shudder at the pit of your stomach, as though at any second it can all be snatched away from you.

If he doesn't watch himself, it can easily descend into paranoia.

He doesn't think there has been a single day where he hasn't been on full alert mode, looking over his shoulder, watching over the city from his not-so-new penthouse like a vigilante, waiting for the monsters to come out. And then he remembers that there are no monsters anymore. None greater than him, anyway. He is the thing that everybody fears.

He's always tiptoeing around that delicate line separating caution from madness, one sudden move around a corner away from overreaction that could send all the hard-earned balance they've achieved blown into the air.

One wrong move from turning into him.

Read the full chapter here

-- Took forever and a day, but ta-da! Starting part 4 was so much harder than I thought, but well. Here is something! Like I said, I'm not starting a new AO3 story for this, it'll be [22/34] there, but for the sake of being clearer here, I'm using the S4 numbers and a new summary.

I don't have any art or edit or anything to go with this story, so I just searched my old edits folder and found something that more or less applies, so there you go. :D As always, your comments/kudos/reblogs mean the world to me and I really hope you guys enjoy it! Cheers!

#klaroline #klaroline fanfiction #klaroline fic #kc fanfiction #kc fic #kcfic #klarolinefic #klaus x caroline #klaroline shippers club #the originals rewriting #yokan writes #the wolf universe #this is the end you guys!#final stretch!#please forgive my awful editing skills i suck at this #why is prisoner/homeless!klaus so hot?#something about the wild curls and the shirt all ripped around the neck line and those neck chains just 🥵

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moonit3 · 3 days

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˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ MAKING YOU MINE

⟡ cw: male yandere, biting, blood, violence towards reader, amab/m! reader but with neutral pronouns, implied future noncon but nothing written about it, choking, toxic behavior.

⟡ word count: 1.5 k

⟡ yandere! male boss x amab! reader

⟡ notes: can this be considered as a rewrite? probably not, since there isn’t much than a few similarities between the original piece with leonard and this one is way better, I promise. unfortunately this won’t include any nsfw content as i still struggling how to write amab! readers, so please don’t mean to me.

when your boss invited you to attend one of the most popular conferences of the world, you had to accept it. not only you would gain an extra bonus from the next couple of months, but also who doesn’t enjoy staying in a five star hotel with everything paid? you didn’t waste time to pack your stuff and travel across the word along with leonard, the ceo of the company you works at.

your mind already made plans to relax at a grand hotel room that has the size of your childhood house, perhaps a bath full of bubbles? sleeping in a bed so soft that makes your body think is clouds? or even better, eating all the food from the menu! that would be amazing plans if you haven’t learn that you will be sharing the same room with leonard himself…

“you look quite disappointed,” he said. “didn’t you know that as my assistant during the conference, you will have to share the bedroom as a way to prevent you from leaking information about my next project.”

the man arrange his tie when his eyes stare at you laying down at the king size bed, already having given up after learning the horrible news of having to be his unwilling roommate for the rest of the travel. it’s almost comical to see that one of his employees is now looking like a dead corpse, he would laugh if hasn’t worry about your current state.

“bold them to assume that i would remember of those secret projects when i can’t even remember of what i ate yesterday.” a laugh came out of your throat when rolling over the bed to reach for your phone. without thiking much, you began scrolling over social media to find something interest or a silly game to lose time before today’s conference start.

when you do find some game worth to waste time, your phone was quickly stolen from your hands by no other than leonard himself.

“give me that!” you got up from the bed and tried to reach for your precious little phone at his hands, even standing on the tips of your toes to try to grab it from him. “don’t be stupid, sir! you are too old to act like a little kid.”

of course, your words didn’t made any difference on his behavior. what would you expect from a guy who inherited dad’s company instead of climbing the social ladder to archive it? you know that leonard is one of those guys who think they can have anything by using money or threats. and you have a feeling that you will fall into his trap soon.

between one of your attempts to reach out for you smartphone, he throws your precious item away into the ground, smashing it in million pieces all over the wooden floor. the sudden loud noise made you freeze in front of him, too scared to act out of fear of what he is going to do next. is he angry at you for acting this way? you hope not, he is the one to blame for it. and he was the one that started it.

silence took over, you didn’t dare to speak a word with leonard’s sharp eyes looking down at your face. damn it, why he got to be so tall? he already looks so intimidating during work hours back at the company and now having smashed your phone to the ground only twice that feeling growing inside your body.

before you create any courage to say a word or two, he began laughing like a mad man while you can only imagine what is going on inside his head. seconds ago, he looked ready to yell at you for his own mistakes and now he is just laughing? rich people are weird, your grandfather was right.

one of his hand lays on your cheek, caressing it like he has known you for ages. it seems that make him feel better, his lips curves into a small smile with his finger trancing all over you [pale/tanned/dark…] face.

in your perspective, his affection or whatever you call that, it’s making you feel horrible. the expression on your face says all, you aren’t comfortable by having a man touching your face like this and you wish he stopped with it. however, when you try to move away, leonard harshly grabs your face and brings you even closer to him. his touch on your face is cruel, almost like he could rip apart the skin away from your cheeks and just throw you across the room.

“you are pathetic, [name].” he said. “you know that, right?”

his words hurt you, it made you feel horrible knowing that a man you often look up to is saying something like that right at your face. between the newly sobs coming out of your throat, you manage to beg him to let it go and unfortunately, he doesn’t listen to your pleading. instead, his grip only gets tighter as he brings your closer to him, now you can feel his breath right at your neck. the smells reminds you of those expensive drinks and even more expensive cologne that you could only dream to afford for yourself.

your mind was preparing you for a slap, maybe a punch right onto your nose that would leave you feeling like a piece of trash. but imagine your expression when you only felt his lips brushing against yours in a lustful and rough kiss. by your instincts, you succeeded push him away, just for a fleeting moment you saw his eyes full of fury, making you freeze.

“i-I’m sorry, sir! I didn’t meant to—“

you didn’t get to finish your pleadings, not when leonard’s hands quickly wrapped around your throat and began squeezing it like you were nothing, but one of those squishy toys. his strength is too much for you to fight against it, so you simply give up in trying to put up a struggle for him.

it took less than a minute to your vision to become pure darkness, leaving you completely at the mercy of your boss. even with your mind telling to open your eyes and try to put fight, you body can’t handle simple commands to put a fight against him. indeed, you are stupid to believe that you had a chance to fight leonard…

…..

….

…

water.

the liquid that means essences of all living being of this planet flows over your naked skin, hitting the large bruise around your neck left and the freshly ones that leonard gave you as the result of trying to mark you as his only. the crimson coming out of newly formed bite marks around your chest and neck was way too much be clean by a cloth. so he had to bring you inside the bathtub, took off your clothes and didn’t waste the chance to join you in.

there isn’t a place where leonard hasn’t touch your sleeping body, well with the exception of a certain place. the man would wait to tease your cock for when you fully regain your consciousness, just so he can admire your lewd expressions and record it to keep you in place. he knows it’s wrong, but can he blame himself when you are just too addicted? you are a drug that he can’t control it and he wants more and more of the weird sensation that you brings to him.

once the blood stopped coming out of your injuries, leonard decided it was the perfect time just relax inside the bathtub without caring about the world outside this hotel room. he turned the water off, letting the cold air hit his skin as the water disappeared down the drain. even sleeping, you body searched for a heat source and as he expected, your body moved around to find a heat source that is him.

it’s pathetic how your body acts without any shame to get closer to his, trying to bind yourself onto him to keep yourself warm. how leonard wishes to have brought his waterproof camera to catch this intimate moment between you and him, but there is no worry when he knows there will plenty of moments like this to record in a soon future.

he knows your life won’t be the same when you open your eyes to see your boss handing your naked body so personal, and leonard can already imagine how surprised you will be when hearing about your new position as his spouse. will you try to fight with him? probably not, only if you wish to carry more marks over you body. the most applaudable possibility is you agreeing with his statement with fear controlling both your physique and mind, afraid that he will killed you.

“my dear mine,” carrying your sleeping figure towards the bed, leonard can only smirk when taking a final look before putting a robe on you. “you have no idea what you makes me feel.”

@moonit3 . don’t repost it, don’t modify it, don’t plagiarize, translate it without my permission.

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