#I have to finish the house or I never will though

[kairisea]

🌊𓈒𓏸Something New𓏸𓈒🌊

SUMMARY: You and Kinich are officially a couple, and despite the awkwardness of the whole thing (since you're both new at relationships), you wanted to get him something to show your appreciation.

NOTES: gn!reader x aroace Kinich, demiromantic/asexual, though neither is actually mentioned. Reader is implied to be a Natlan native. It's assumed you've done the AQ and his SQ, but should be fine to read without doing either

WARNINGS: None, really, just fluff

COMMENTS: I finished Kinich's quest, and fell deeper in love with him than I already was. So I wanted to write a fic in celebration of his release and quest! Though I must say, this is not the fic I intended to write. My brain wanted something else I guess.

Ever since you and Kinich started dating, things between you seemed awkward. It's not like you knew how to be romantic. And clearly, he was the same. You'd still hang out, and talk, and go places, but when it came to anything romantic, you both were hopelessly lost. Not for a lack of trying.

Ajaw would laugh at your every attempt at something romantic, as you failed spectacularly. Though if something got too corny or actually romantic, Ajaw would always become frustrated and leave. It was clear he just wanted to watch you struggle. He hated the lovey-dovey stuff.

You decided to ask your friends and research the subject, in hopes to become better. Your research led to a lot of fiction, which didn't seem like a good source of information to you. Your friends were able to give you some pointers, but they were mostly about flirting, which you thought was less than useful considering you were together already. Still, they at least had some useful tips.

So here you are, at a traveling merchant, looking through their stock. You're looking for something specific, and if anyone in Natlan would have it, it'd be a traveling merchant, since it doesn't grow here. The merchant seems to get a bit irritated, but then you lay your eyes on your prize. A Rainbow Rose. Native to Fontaine, your friends told you it was a symbol of love. Perfect to give to Kinich.

"I'll take one Rainbow Rose, please!" you asked the man.

"That'll be 7 thousand mora." he replied bluntly. 7 thousand?!?! you thought. That seems absurd! For one flower!? But it's not like I have any other options... You'd come all this way, determined to by a Rainbow Rose for him, and it's not like you didn't have the budget... you'd just have to cut out some other things off the list of things to buy.

You sighed. "Alright, I'll take it." Maybe you'd have been better going to Fontaine yourself, though going there probably wouldn't be an option even if you wanted to. You knew you could've tried haggling, but it was never your strong suit, plus this guy seemed pretty big, and you didn't want to anger him or anything. So you just handed over the mora.

"Pleasure doing business!" He seemed really proud of himself as he handed you the single rose. You debated asking for more, but you had only asked for one, and you were certain that's what he'd say back. Still, you had your gift. It was time to head to his house and give it to him. Let's just hope this didn't go horribly wrong...

You made your way to Kinich's home, building up the courage to knock. You wondered if he was even home. There was no way to tell without knocking, so that's what you did. You held the rose behind you, it had to be a surprise after all. You anxiously for an answer, thinking you had been right and he wasn't home. You knocked again just in case.

"Kiniiich! Are you deaf!? Someone's at the door! As a servant to the great K'uhul Ajaw, you oughta be quick to answer it!!!" You could hear Ajaw yell through the door. It was quite clear he wouldn't be the one to answer the door, but that was already assumed. At least you knew Kinich was home now.

"Calm down, Ajaw. If you're really that impatient you could've answered it yourself." You heard Kinich approach the door. Suddenly you were very aware of what you were about to do. Your nerves seemed like the could burst out of you at any moment. Your heart was running a marathon. As your thoughts were running, Kinich opened the door. "Oh, it's you. What brings you here?"

He seemed so calm. He never was really the type to be mushy gushy, and you appreciated that about him. Though it certainly didn't help your nerves. "Well, considering we're... well, partners. I wanted to get you something. To... show my appreciation! And... well... my love for you..." You trailed off in embarrassment, avoiding his gaze.

"Ahh, it's that human again! Well, do you have some entertainment for us? Another way to spectacularly fail?" Ajaw laughed. You and Kinich did not. "Or maybe you have a gift to offer to the Almighty Dragonlord, K'uhul Ajaw! Something to prove your worth?"

"They said it was a gift for me, not you. And don't make fun of us." He glared at Ajaw, and the saurian shut up with a 'hmph'. He mumbled something about disrespect, but you couldn't quite make it out. "Well? What do you have for me?"

You hoped Ajaw wouldn't make fun of you, and hoped Kinich would like it. "Well..." You pulled the rainbow rose out from behind your back, presenting it to him. "It's called a rainbow rose, from Fontaine. It... I heard it was a symbol of love... so I wanted to give you one." You looked at him from the corner or your eyes for his reaction.

"Hmph! I'm glad it's not an offering to us! A symbol of love? Tch. Perfect for you couple of lovebirds." Ajaw remarked

"We're hardly lovebirds, Ajaw. We're not that experienced. Besides, if you hate it so much, why don't you leave?" He queried Ajaw. "This is a lovely gift." He takes the flower from your hands. He didn't smile often, but you could see a small one on his face just then.

Ajaw hmphed away. "You like it?" you asked him, and he quickly nodded in response. "I'm glad." Suddenly, the 7 thousand mora felt entirely worth it. Though knowing Kinich, the next thing he was going to say would be-

"How much did it cost?" You sighed at his predictability.

"I'm not telling you this time. You don't have to pay me back, really." Knowing him, he still wouldn't accept that.

"If you won't tell me, I guess I'll have to find some other way to reimburse you." You knew he'd say something like that. You were also glad he didn't press on the price. Who knows what he'd say if you told him? "Why don't you come inside? I can get this flower in some water and we can... chill together."

"That sounds great." You tried not to seem too excited at the idea, but you couldn't hide your smile as you entered the house at his signal. You sat down on the couch as you watched Kinich pull out a vase, fill it with water, and put the rose in it. Afterwards, he came and sat down next to you on the couch. Once again, things were awkward. At least you got one good moment. Maybe this could be a good moment to loosen up?

"You two really are hopeless. Maybe I need to give you some pointers, because clearly you suck at this!" Ajaw seemed both annoyed, but also prideful, as if he really could teach you something about romance. Could he..?

I might end up making a part two to this, where Ajaw teaches you something, or you naturally learn it, and get more comfortable with Kinich. Idk, if you want to see a part two, let me know!

I also want to make a modern AU fic where you move in with Kinich, so let me know if you want to see that, too.

Also for the rainbow rose part, I want you to know I asked a friend for a number between 1 and 60 (hi friend) and they gave me 7 or 42. With 1 mora being 1 cent, I didn't want the poor reader to actually end up needing to spend $420 on a single rose XD If you're wondering why between 1 and 60, it's because 1,000 mora is the usual price for local specialties. But of course, there's someone in Ritou selling dandelion seeds for 60,000 mora, so that set my range for someone selling outside of a nation. Anyway just fun research stuff I spent too much time doing for little to no impact :) (Also yes that means the rainbow rose was $70 USD, pretty pricey if I do say so myself😬)

If you enjoyed this, feel free to learn more about me and what I do here! You can also see if my requests are open there if you want something yourself!

[callisteios]

it is time for The House Spreadsheet

so yeah for those who don't know i have spent like two years making (and constantly mentioning that i am making) a spreadsheet to track several things in the 2004-2012 tv show house md

I'll probably rb with details/graphs but without further ado:

Here it is!!!

some disclaimers:

I may have got things wrong!!!!

PLEASE note above, i am just one person with a poor attention span, i did my best but may have missed instances of something im tracking.

if you do notice something wrong you can let me know (timestamps please) and if i verify i'll update the sheet

please don't take the notes seriously, they were just a stream of conciousness reaction to keep me sane

re: the things wrong point, i definitely got the medical categories wrong so if anyone has better suggestions i am Begging You please come to me

If you make anything with this i'd love to see, so please tag me when you do :)

[bahablastplz]

All in | Chapter 15

pairing: Lee Felix x f!reader (mafia au)

summary: You didn't know what you were getting yourself into when you started dating Yang Jungwon, notorious mafia boss. Your life gets flipped upside down when you're found beaten and bloody by SKZ, the rival mafia group, and you're quickly integrated into their lives. What will happen when you try to leave your old life behind and start anew?

chapter summary: Chan has thought up a punishment for you that doesn't really help your mental state; someone thinks of a plan to help.

chapter warnings: smut! unprotected sex

warnings: please see series masterlist for all warnings.

series masterlist ~~ series taglist ~~ main masterlist

Beep, beep, beep, beep. Click! 

That’s the sound you get accustomed to a few times throughout the day. It’s Chan, unlocking the door to let himself in. Every time he brings in a tray of food for the two of you to eat, and most of the time you pick at it but you can’t find too much of an appetite. 

The first few times, you don’t talk to Chan at all. You’re completely silent, looking out at the forest through the barred window. Occasionally you would watch his mannerisms or react when he moves something a little bit too loud. Other than that, you make it a point not to speak at all. That’s how it started, at least. 

Each time a few hours pass in total isolation, you slowly become more and more stir crazy. Mostly, you look out the window. Sometimes, you do situps and pushups or practice the self-defense exercises that Changbin and Felix had taught you until exhaustion. You take a few naps. You take a shower. You finish the latest book that Hyunjin let you borrow. Chan visits you for dinner. You do not speak with him, eat your meal in silence, and watch as he leaves. You go to sleep for the night with an empty, hollow and rotting sensation in your chest that you have never experienced before. It might be anger directed towards Chan, but also an empty feeling knowing that you are unable to see Felix, who is in the same house as you. You wonder if he feels the same as you right now. 

Beep, beep, beep, beep. Click! 

You wake up to the sound of Chan unlocking your door in the morning with breakfast. You break your silent treatment, finally, though probably more out of boredom than anything else. You only respond to his small talk, tell him that the food is alright. 

The longer increments of time that would pass, the more anger you would find bubbling in your chest. 

“Do you really expect to keep me locked here forever?” you snap at one point. You have just finished rereading The Stranger by Albert Camus for the third time. “You know that’s how people start to lose their minds? Is that what this is? A torture device? Or is it still a sick, twisted ploy to get me to fall in love with you?” you walk around the room, pacing. Your hands are strung through your hair haphazardly as you let out a laugh. “Some sort of Stockholm syndrome to the extreme? You already fucking tried that, Chan! I’m stuck in this house with you, I can’t leave, and it didn’t work. What is your plan here?”

He blinks at you, sitting on your bed and crossing his arms across his chest. “I don’t know.” 

“You… you don’t know?” 

He chuckles and you feel your blood begin to boil. “Well, I mean, I don’t know how long I plan to keep you here. At least until the Heeseung drama boils down. Until I feel confident that Felix is just as broken down about this as you are? I mean, it’s the point of a punishment, yeah?” He runs his fingers through his hair and lets out a sigh. “Obviously I know you aren’t going to fall in love with me right now, not like this, yeah? But the thought of you and Felix, it’s so wrong, y’know? So I gotta nip it in the bud.” 

You blink away a tear but wipe it away quicker than he can see. You won’t give him the satisfaction of letting him see you cry. 

“I hate you,” you spit. When Chan stands, he closes the distance between the two of you. He swipes a strand of hair behind your ear. 

“You might want to watch your mouth for now, especially when you’re the one who’s not in control,” he coos. “If you want to start getting your privileges back, you might want to consider upping the sweet talk.” He leaves as a chill racks through your body and the door slams shut, lock clicking into place behind him. 

You’re not quite sure about *sweet talking*, per say, but you suppose you could calm it down with Chan for now in order to get things back to the way they were. It’s really hard, with the way your anger bubbles every time he enters the room, every additional hour that passes. You start to feel delirious, depressed with nothing much to do, sleeping far too much and eating far too little. 

The flowers start to wilt. 

The flowers that Chan had given you for your date. You don’t even know how long ago that was at this point, feeling a bit too disoriented. You watch over days as the petals start to turn brown, curling up into themselves and falling to the floor. It’s only once every flower has finally turned to black that you convince Chan to let you leave your room. 

It’s only to Hyunjin’s room that he lets you go at first. He supervises your visit. You sit on the corner of Hyunjin’s bed and you sit and talk, nodding politely when he speaks. He updates you on Seungmin’s condition, shows you his newest painting (which is stunning beyond belief), and talks about his latest venture to the bookstore. It’s more than he’s ever talked to you at once, and you’re sure he’s doing it because he knows the effects that the isolation has had on your head, but you appreciate it more than he could ever imagine. 

Chan checks his wrist watch, clearing his throat. He tells you it’s almost time for you to go and you can’t help the panicked feeling that bubbles in your chest. You know that Hyunjin notices it too, the frantic look in your eye as you look to him for help, but there’s nothing he can do about it. You wonder if he and Chan got into a disagreement about it, if anybody besides Felix had the gall to stand up to him about your circumstance but it’s unlikely. 

As Chan guides you out, Hyunjin remembers something, handing you a new book as if it were an afterthought. A brand new copy of Wuthering Heights is placed into your hands. 

“I think you’ll really like this one,” Hyunjin muses. “I hope we get a chance to talk about it soon. I purchased this at that bookstore I was telling you about. Let me take you there one day, okay?” 

You smile at him. A true, genuine, smile before Chan takes you back to your room for dinner. Feeling a little more hopeful, you eat more than usual and talk to him more than yesterday. You think he’s expecting you to thank him. You don’t. He wishes you a good evening before he locks you in your room for the evening. 

Something about Hyunjin’s words had struck you as odd. “I hope we get to talk about it soon.” Since you moved in and Hyunjin had started giving you new books to read, although he was always very sure of himself in his choices, you had never really talked about your choices. Even today during your conversation you didn’t talk about Albert Camus’ The Stranger, which you had read a whopping four times since your isolation.

This is why you’re not as surprised when you open the book and you find a note, wedged neatly between page eight and page nine. It’s not Hyunjin’s handwriting, but Felix’s. You can’t help it when your heart picks up and beats against your chest, a smile against your face despite yourself. 

‘Dear Sunshine,

I am so sorry for everything. Each day that I have not been able to see you and that I have known that you have been behind those doors has been Hell for me, as I’m sure they’ve been Hell for you as well. Let me take you far, far, away from this place if you would let me.

If you will take me, if you want this as much as I do, let us leave tonight. Leave your bathroom light on tonight and I will know that it will be okay for us to make our escape. 

Love, LF.’ 

Are you really reading this correctly? 

It was the first night here that Chan took off his belt and whipped you with it just for leaving when he told you not to leave. What would the punishment be if you and Felix were caught? You knew the answer, and you found yourself grimacing as you thought about it. If Chan found out that you and Felix had escaped—and you had a very, very short window of time before he came looking for you, until breakfast tomorrow—he would surely kill the two of you in cold blood.

Felix, was he really to risk it all for you? No questions asked? You knew you were. 

Turning off all lights in your room, leaving just your bathroom light on for the signal and to light up your path, you get ready. You throw on some clothes, a pair of thick socks and a pair of sneakers, athletic pants and a t-shirt underneath a hoodie. You try to dress both light-weight but also warm, easy for mobility in case you have to do some running. And you take a quick nap, since it’s still light out and you’re sure that the plan won’t take place until after nightfall and you should probably be well-rested. 

You’re right. You wake up a few hours later and it’s dark outside. Felix still hasn’t shown yet. You sit right by your door and wait for him. You wait and wait and wait, your heart beating so heavily out of your chest it might explode. You literally have to calm yourself down with breathing exercises several times because you find yourself so worked up. You can’t help it–you’re so nervous about seeing him again, and about the escape, about his plans, though you’re sure he has something planned out. 

After some time has passed, you almost wonder if maybe he isn’t going to show, but you laugh at that thought. It’s Felix. Of course he’s going to show. You have never met someone more true to his word and dedicated. You just hope that everything is going according to plan. And sure enough?

Beep, beep, beep, beep. Click! 

Light from the hallway spills into your room, encasing the darkness that surrounded you. When you jump to your feet, Felix pulls you in for a very chaste kiss. His name spills silently from your lips and you see him smile before grabbing your hand, pulling you into a silent run down the hallway. You can already tell that there is going to be a long night ahead of you, though you’re relieved when Felix leads you to a mundane car, a dark mini-van, and you can’t help but think thank god we aren’t literally running away. 

You hurriedly get into the passenger seat, Felix the driver’s seat, and the two of you drive away. You watch as the house gets smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror behind you until it completely disappears, and most of your anxiety along with it. 

“You came for me.” you say finally. 

“Of course I did,” Felix says, his voice soft. “I just had to work out the logistics. I’m so so incredibly sorry it took me that long. I hope you can forgive me.” 

“It’s really happening?” you ask him. “We’re really leaving?” 

Felix only smiles. “I did everything I could. I was even able to get your sister out of your house, I sent her somewhere safe where Chan can’t find her to retaliate.”

“Thank you, Felix,” you say, breathing out a sigh of relief. “Really, really, thank you.” 

He reaches over the center console and grabs your hand, bringing it to his face to kiss along your knuckles. 

“You have no need to thank me. This is my escape too. In reality, I owe you just as much.” Your heart squeezes at his words. You don’t really understand the weight behind his words but you hope that he will open up to you about them one day. About his past and his history with Chan. You stare at Felix, at the way the passing headlights illuminate his face and accentuate his features, and you just sit there and watch and watch, drinking him in and hoping that you will never have to let him go again. 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

You’re expecting to arrive at some sort of hotel/motel, similar to the one you and Felix had shared after the night at the gala. What you weren’t expecting was an apartment building, at least ten stories tall in the middle of a city a few hours away. 

Felix parks the car, a protective hand around your waist the whole walk to the building. He holds you so close you find it almost difficult to walk. The elevator takes you up to the eighth floor, where Felix leads you down the hall. The building looks well-kept, maintained inside, contrasting from its run-down exterior. 

Felix leans over the door, typing a code into the keypad. It swings open revealing a large furnished studio apartment. 

“This place looks really nice,” you admit. “It is a step-up from the motel. How did you…” 

“Chan isn’t the only one that has his connections,” Felix says, sighing as he throws a backpack down next to him. He closed the door behind him, locking it. He walks around the apartment several times, making sure that every window is locked and secure as well. “It’s safe here. We should be able to stay here for a few days before we need to pick up again. But this place is completely alarmed and equipped with security codes. He won’t find us here, okay?” 

“Okay,” you nod. You really do trust him. You feel safe. 

“The password for the front door is 0325,” Felix tells you. You don’t know why that action alone makes you want to tear up. You’re not a prisoner anymore. You’re really free. 

“Thank you,” you tell him, shucking your hoodie off of your body. You don’t miss the way his eyes rack over your frame at the way your shirt picks up slightly. How does he still manage to make you blush? “How did you get the code for my door?” you ask him. You had been wondering about it for a while, as there was no way that Chan had given it to him. 

“Hyunjin told me,” Felix discloses. “He was the only other person besides Chan that knew the code, in case of an emergency or if Chan was away and he needed to give you food.” 

“He was the only one?” you ask. “But that means… Won’t Chan know that Hyunjin…” 

“Hyunjin has already come to terms with things,” Felix says remorsefully. “I didn’t want it to go down like this either, but Hyunjin really was willing to make a sacrifice for you. For both of us. Nothing horrible is going to happen–he isn’t going to be killed, but I’m sure the punishment will be brutal.” 

You shake your head, unwilling to believe his words. “I can’t believe Hyunjin would do that for us. I really thought he was loyal to Chan.” 

“At the end of the day there must have been something he found more important to put his trust in,” he smiles. “I think he realized how bad your mental state was after spending over a week in that room.” 

“It was over a week?” you nearly cry. Felix holds you tight to his chest. You don’t cry–you’ve already come to terms with what has happened. When you pull apart, you look into his eyes and find that he has tears of his own that have started to build up. Now that is something that you had not anticipated. 

“I’m sorry–” he starts to say, but you crash your lips into his instead. Your hands pull into his hair and you push your body into his, do anything you can to get your body as inhumanly close to his as possible, so that you can feel every touch of his skin against yours. 

Felix’s hands wander underneath your hoodie, tugging off the material and throwing it to the floor in a desperate show. His hands roam your body, his lips never once leaving your skin. This time he makes it a show to suck a mark into any available surface, licking and sucking dark purples and pinks into your neck, collarbones, shoulders, breasts–any area of skin that was once pristine now has Felix’s claim on it. 

“You’re mine, do you understand? You’re mine and I’m yours.” 

“Yes, Felix, yes,” you agree, letting him push you back against the bed. He towers over you for a second, dropping to his knees onto the floor so that he can pull off the material of your pants. You lift your hips, allowing him to. You push your thighs together, utterly exposed in front of him but also so aroused by his stare and he grabs your thighs, pushing them apart. 

“Beautiful,” he comments. You throw an arm over your face, embarrassed by his comment. “Don’t hide from me, angel,” he says, kissing the insides of your thighs. “You’re mine, right? Can I compliment what’s mine? You’re not going to hide away what’s mine, hmm?” When you don’t immediately answer him, your chest rising and falling rapidly from his words, you feel a slight pinch come from inside your thigh. You look down at his mischievous face to realize he has just lightly slapped your inner thigh to get a response. 

“N-no, Felix,” you moan. 

“No, what?” he teases, his mouth going higher and higher still, his breath right above your center but waiting. 

“No, I’m not going to hide from you. Yes, you can compliment me,” you reply.

“Fuck, that’s my girl,” he groans. “Prove it, then. Open those legs wide for me.” And you do. You spread your legs as far as they would go and Felix rewards you by immediately diving in, his tongue lapping at your clit like a man starved. As much as your thighs tremble and shake and threaten to close, you don’t let them. Your eyes stay on Felix, and his eyes on yours. 

Suddenly, Felix pulls away with a pop. 

“What–”

He climbs onto the bed and lays down, leaving you utterly confused before he grabs you by the waist, manhandling you effortlessly by the waist onto his face. 

“Felix, what are you doing?” 

“I want you to sit on my face,” he responds, his hands caressing your thighs as if trying to coax you down to properly take your seat. 

“Are you sure? I–”

“Please, just, use me. Make yourself cum, and then I’ll fuck you open on my cock.” You can’t deny how appealing his words sound, and he had already worked you up just seconds ago so you can’t find the resolve to protest much longer. Eagerly, you sit. His tongue prods your entrance, pushing in as far as it will go. You rock yourself back and forth on his face, your clit occasionally catching on his nose, and you find Felix’s hands taking place on your ass to help you find your pace. 

Once you build up a rhythm you ride him in earnest, like nothing matters but him beneath you right now and your climax building up. He knows you’re close when he feels your thighs clench tighter around your head and your back starts to arch back, and your noises have become louder. You do exactly what he told you to do–you use him for your pleasure until you’re having one of the longest, most drawn-out orgasms of your life. 

When you finally crawl off of him, Felix wastes no time before flipping your positions, making your stomach turn with butterflies. He pulls his pants off in one swift motion and you take a moment to look at him in awe, to really just appreciate him and his beautifully toned body despite seeing it a few times before. 

You watch as he strokes his cock a few times, his eyes fixated on your pussy. He pushes forward, and just to tease–intentionally catches the head of it on your overstimulated clit, causing you to cry out. 

“Felix!” your hips buck up, your legs wrap around him, doing anything you can just to get him to enter you properly. 

“Do you want me that bad?” he asks with a smile, his voice a low timbre in your ear. 

“Yes, Felix, stop fucking teasing me, you know I want you–” and with that, he pushes right into you, fully sheathing himself in one thrust. Your hands come up to push crescent fingernail indents into his shoulders, just to ground yourself from the overwhelming sensation. 

Felix wastes no time before fucking you like he really means it, his hips pulling out to meet yours flush each time. The way his hips roll in a fluid motion into yours has you crying out, wrapping your legs around him. 

“Fuck, you’re clenching me so tight,” he pants. “I’m going to cum soon, baby. Where do you want it?” 

You wrap your legs even tighter around him. 

His hand snakes up to your neck, just placing it there, not even squeezing but it still causes you to cry out with a moan that is borderline pornagraphic. 

“You’re being so dirty, baby. Are you trying to tell me something? You want me to cum inside? Because you’re going to have you use your words to tell me that or else it’s not gonna happen,” he grins. 

His hips snap into yours so hard it’s almost bruising, but you’re so close to your second orgasm that you think you could fall over the edge any second. 

“FELIX,” you finally cry out. You’re sure the scratches you’re leaving into his back are going to leave marks, if not bleed. 

“Fuck, you gotta tell me now.” 

“Inside! Inside! I want you to cum inside, fuck, I love you Felix, please!” you sob. 

He kisses you. Rather, his lips smash into yours so hard you’re not sure what is happening, but you’re cumming so hard it’s blinding. You can feel him still as he fills you up with warm ropes of his cum. 

When you both finally come down, Felix flops beside you and you immediately curl into his chest. He embraces you, his hands stroking unknown symbols into your skin. 

“Did you mean it?” he finally asks. 

You don’t have to ask what he’s referring to. “Yes,” you reply. “I think I’ve known it for a long time.”

“I love you, too.” Felix tells you, grabbing your chin so that he can press another kiss into your lips. “You mean the world to me.” 

That night, Felix looks around the apartment again, making sure that everything is in its place. When you see that there is both a couch and a bed, you make a joke about sleeping on the couch that causes him to quite literally pick you up and throw you into bed with him. You fall asleep like that, intertwined in his arms, not worried about accidentally getting caught and what the consequences might be tomorrow. 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

You toss and turn. Images plague your mind. A guilt-ridden feeling plagues your gut. 

Minho, who gets anxiety on missions, who wanted to get away from his family and the life of crime from his childhood, but couldn’t let Jisung go alone for fear of what Chan would do to him.

Changbin, who has only wanted to protect his family, but instead Chan has held that over his head.

Hyunjin, who didn’t really know how to find himself after being told who to be, who didn’t know what to do with his life, exploited by Chan. 

Jisung, who has never had anybody tell him that he is good for more than shooting things and a life of violent crime, and had Chan take advantage of that. 

Seungmin, who had only one dream and had it taken away through an injury, was falsely promised by Chan that one day he could get the surgery and recover to play baseball again. 

Jeongin, who turned to a life of crime but was told he could have the money to go to fashion school, all if he would become Chan’s lackey. 

Even Felix, who you’re sure has been through something just as horrible, though he hasn’t told you yet… 

At the end of the day, there’s one common factor in all of this evil. 

You know that you can’t stay here and live a fantasy life, where you get to escape and be free while the rest of them are trapped there and still living in a nightmare. At the end of the day, you have started to develop close relationships with each and every one of them, and you can’t bring yourself to think more about the horrors that Chan continues to inflict on them each day while you get to run away with Felix. 

Picking up Felix’s arm, you kiss him on the head. You feel very remorseful for what you’re about to do, for the amount of mental anguish you are probably about to put him in when everything was finally going to go your way. You wish you could have relished in this a little bit longer. 

Opening up the bedside table, you grab Felix’s car keys and his gun. 

This has to end, and it has to end now. 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

a/n: we're getting close to the end! two main chapters and two mini chapters left!! sorry for the delay today guys, I only had this chapter half written i wrote the rest in a coffee shop lol <3

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[ikilledyvette]

(Realized I was never gonna finish this long ass 9-1-1 fic before the premiere, so today I’m doing the seriously condensed version for Tumblr—which I still have to break into two parts, ffs.)

It’s Thursday afternoon, three days before Father’s Day, and the atmosphere at the 118 is grim. Gerrard is gone, at least, and everyone celebrated with cake—specifically, a Ding Dong, The Witch is Dead! cake, complete with a chocolate house crushing little black boots—but to everyone’s surprise, Buck isn’t exactly welcoming Bobby home with open arms anymore. He hasn’t forgiven Bobby for resigning in the first place. Making matters worse, Margaret and Philip Buckley are flying in for the weekend. Also, Eddie is depressed because Chris hasn’t called since he left for Texas six weeks ago, and Eddie doesn’t expect to hear from him on Sunday, or possibly ever again.

Hen tells Eddie Christopher will forgive him. “He’ll come home. He just needs a minute.” Eddie says that six weeks is a hell of a minute, but Hen persists. “You’re a good father,” she says, ignoring Eddie’s humorless laugh. “You messed up; I’m not saying you didn’t. But that doesn’t negate all the good you’ve done, too. Kids, they want you to hear them. They want you to show up, so when Christopher calls, pick up the phone and listen. You two love each other, Eddie. It’s going to work out.”

But Eddie’s gaze just drifts to the kitchen, where Bobby is quietly looking at the stack of uneaten fire-engine-shaped mini-waffles that Buck refused to eat, even though he’s the one who bought Bobby that ridiculous novelty waffle-maker in the first place

“You ever think maybe love just isn’t enough,” Eddie says, and Hen isn’t sure how to answer that.

*

Meanwhile, Chimney, thankfully, has the day off and is drinking a beer with Tommy. (Hen, left to deal with these weird morose vibes at the 118 by herself, quite rightly considers this a betrayal and has appropriately sworn revenge.) Chimney and Tommy talk a little about their own families: Tommy hasn’t spoken to his dad in years; meanwhile, Chimney finally gave up months ago after actually telling his dad how he really felt about being abandoned. He just needed to hear his father apologize once, just once—but he couldn’t do that, not even that, and Chimney decided enough was enough. 

Tommy, who’s only ever met the Buckley Parents one time (but has quickly clocked to Buck’s wildly shifting moods whenever discussing them), asks Chimney how much of a disaster this weekend is likely to be. Chimney tells Tommy that—apart from big family secrets and the general emotional trauma—every time the Buckleys visit, someone comes close to death: warehouse fire (Buck), lightning strike (Buck), viral encephalitis (Chimney). 

“Maybe don’t go up in a helicopter till they’re gone?” Chimney suggests, and Tommy says, “Jesus,” and gets another beer.

*

Back at the 118, things have gone from bad to worse. A call leads to Buck recklessly risking his own life to save someone. He walks away with only a few bruises, but Bobby yells at him for nearly getting himself killed. Buck snarks that he must still be that young, impulsive hothead after all. Bobby, a bit at a loss, tells Buck that he has come a long way, but he can’t put himself in danger just because he’s angry at Bobby. 

“What is this really about? You can talk to me, kid. I’m here.”

“Right,” Buck says, scornful. “You’re here. For ... how long again? Seven more, I think you said? No—no, you never actually said, did you? That one’s on me. Right, Cap?”

The bell goes off, ending the argument. Bobby tries to talk to Buck again after the shift, but Buck is already out the door. He barely gets any sleep that day before he and Tommy drive over for The Big Family Dinner. Tommy tries to talk Buck into staying home, suggesting they go tomorrow night instead, but Buck insists it will be a Thing if they don’t go.

Dinner goes badly. Margaret and Phillip aren’t intentionally rude or actively malicious, but there’s still a thread of casual biphobia in much of what they say: Evan’s always going through these phases. Well, if it’s not a phase, Evan, you must have known; how could you not? Please don’t misunderstand, Tommy, of course we like YOU. Very much! Yes, Tommy, thank you for your service. We’re just saying, Evan likes to throw us for a loop now and then. Really, Evan, you’ve had so many girlfriends you’re basically straight, aren’t you?

Buck finally loses it shortly after Maddie goes into the other room to check on Jee Yun. Margaret suggests that while she’s happy that Buck and Tommy are happy, of course—happy for now, at least—she’d just hoped Buck would’ve started to settle down by now, get serious about someone, rather than start experimenting. Phillip also jokes that he’d thought Buck had outgrown making bids for attention, and Buck just—snaps. 

“Why did I have to work so hard to get your attention again? Right. Cause it was too hard to look at me. Cause I was the reminder of what you lost, the screwup you got left with. Maybe if Daniel had grown up and turned out bi, you’d—"

—and Margaret slaps Buck across the face. 

It shocks everyone, very much including Margaret, but when Buck finally blinks and glances at his dad, Phillip automatically moves to stand behind his wife, silently taking her side. Buck, a bit dazed, mutters he’s sorry and tells Chimney not to tell Maddie what happened, right before Tommy all but pushes Buck out the door and drives him home.

Buck, still a little shellshocked, mostly can’t believe he said what he said, insists he shouldn’t have gotten that upset, and tries to brush off Tommy’s efforts to comfort him. Tries to get him to leave. Tries to distract him with sex when Tommy refuses to leave. Tommy, not having any of it, sits Buck down and talks a little about his own childhood, how he’d run away from home after his father had found out Tommy was gay, how—broken and bleeding—Tommy had never called, never looked back. Buck protests it’s not the same because Margaret and Philip aren’t abusive, have never hit him before tonight, aren’t really homophobic—at least, not in the same way—and also, Buck deserved that slap. 

“Who throws a dead kid in their parents face?” Buck asks, miserable.

“Someone who lived under the shadow of a brother he never knew about for 30 years?” Tommy asks, then takes Buck’s hand and makes Buck look at him.

“Look, maybe it’s not the same. You’re never going to convince me you deserved it, Evan, not any of it—but what I’m saying is, when people repeatedly hurt you? You don’t have to look back. You don’t have to keep trying. You can, if that’s what you want—but you don’t have to forgive anyone just because they’re family. That’s not what being a family should be. And, for what it’s worth, that includes Bobby, too. Just ... maybe consider what you’re actually angry about—or if it’s even anger you’re really feeling here—before deciding to cut him off for good.” 

Slowly, Buck sinks into Tommy’s side. Tommy wraps an arm around him. Kisses him gently just above birthmark.

(Part II is finished, coming tomorrow or the next day)

[gguk-n]

Fading Shadow (Lando Norris x ex-Reader)

Part 2 of Last Straw Inspired by this request

Summary- Y/N moved on. Lando is still stuck, on what they had and what he lost.

{Reader's POV}

The moment I landed back home, I felt relief wash over me when I cried in my mother's arms. I had been holding on to too much, it seems. My father brought my favourite food and we ate together and we laughed together. This was the therapy I needed. My siblings weren't very happy with Lando since they had seen everything unfold on social media but they were happy to have their sister back. I was happy to be back home. I needed this, I needed my people.

I decided I needed a change of pace, a change of scenery. I had been mourning my relationship while I was still in it. Now, I was a new me, I was going to do everything I wanted.

I applied at the company I always wanted to work at but due to there being no vacancies I was assigned a job in a different country and I was ready to take on the world. I knew Lando would never search for me, he never truly loved me but I still wanted to leave. I needed a fresh start.

{Lando's POV}

The silence after the break up was exactly what I needed, or so I thought. I could leave as I wished. I could go out whenever I wanted. I didn't have to explain myself to anyone. It's so much better to be single then to be tied down.

I didn't think I would ever miss Y/N, but I did. I remember exactly when I missed her for the first time; it was after a difficult race and I had finish decently with the shitty cards I had and I just wanted someone to tell me how well I did; but there was no one; no one who knew what I wanted to hear. I felt so alone even when I was surrounded by hundreds of people for the first time in a long time.

The second time I missed her was when I was stood on top of the top step of the podium. I wanted to have her around so I could share my highs with her. I didn't get a 'do you wanna go out to celebrate?' like the last two times and I aired her both time to party with random girls. Right now, I was in the club celebrating my third win of my career and season and I felt empty and alone. Not even the alcohol helped.

The house we lived in was a stark reminder of the time we spent together. All our dates we had. All the times she would teach me how to cook but we would always end up with a big mess and half cooked or burnt food since I would get distracted. In retrospect, I loved every second of it even though I never admitted it then. I love all the time we spent together or the laugh she would emit when I messed up. I missed her and I wish she was here; I was too stupid to admit it then but I do now.

Oscar was getting sick and tired of me using his phone to check on Y/N's social media accounts since she had blocked me every where. I would end up borrowing the other driver's phone to check, just in case. Until one day, her account stopped showing up for Oscar too. I went through almost everyone on the paddock's phone to see if she had blocked my friends. Turns out, she had deactivated her social media accounts; I realised that after one of the gossip pages posted about her deactivating her profiles, across all the platforms.

I would wake up from dreams about her and I would fall asleep to the thought of her. No woman interested me anymore; I wish I was this loyal when we were dating, when she could see that I loved her, not now when she couldn't even see I had changed.

My PR team was losing their shit when I tweeted that. I had to sit through a stupid meeting after everything. It was miracle I didn't start crying in the middle of the meeting.

People had started to notice I guess, since Carlos approached me. "Cabron, what's up?" he asked while I was lying on my couch after media day. "Nothing" I hummed. "I fucked up right?" I asked. "I can't say no" Carlos said. I laughed painfully. "I didn't know how good I had it until it was all gone. I'm an ass and I deserve everything I'm getting" I cried. Carlos comforted me, hugging me tightly. "I just wish she would talk to me, at least once. So, that I could show her that I've changed. I really have Carlos. I love her so much, it hurts" I cried into his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Lando" he said patting my back.

There's a saying, You don't know what you've got until it's gone. I was living that nightmare and I will never stop living it.

[hannahssimblr]

In the kitchen, I make coffee. Two cups, though Evie has not yet stirred. It is twenty past four, and the clouds are tinged red. 

I make my way out to the garden and tip the dew from a patio chair. I leave one cup on the table and sip from the other as I sit back and watch the sky change. 

She’ll get up soon. 

Behind me, silence permeates the house. 

At half past four, my mug is empty. It’s cold out, and the steam no longer rises from Evie’s cup. I leave it for her anyway as I go to make myself a bowl of cereal. 

I eat and finish it. 

She doesn’t come. 

It is a quarter to five. 

But at last, something stirs. The floorboards creak on the stairs, and I spin around, only to be met with the sight of my mother, her hair undone, and no makeup on her face. She comes to the patio door with a thin jumper thrown over her bony shoulders. 

“Are you ready to go?” She says. 

“Yeah. I was just waiting a minute.”

“For what?”

“One of my friends was supposed to get up.”

She checks her watch. “There could be traffic on the M50.”

“It’s not even five.”

“Port traffic, Jude. You don’t know how it’s going to be. I don’t want you to miss your flight, and you still have to pack the car.”

“Fine,” I push past her and carry my cereal bowl to the sink. “I’ll pack. You can warm up the car if you’re in such a hurry.”

Upstairs, I stand over my bags and listen. She doesn’t stir in the guest room, and my stomach sinks like lead. Should I go in? What if she isn’t wearing clothes?

I carry my bags to the car. 

It is five. 

Mom hurries me on as I insist upon once more trip into the house.

“Jeez! I forgot something,” I tell her, and rush to the kitchen. Outside in the driveway, the engine roars to life.

I find a black marker in a drawer, and tear the corner from the lip of the cereal box. I don’t know what to write. 

Sweet dreams, Evie.  See you later, alligator. 

Oh, wonderful. How stupid. There is no time to change it. 

I hurry upstairs, and I slide it under the door. Again, I wait, with the last shred of hope for the sound of her, and again, there’s nothing. 

So I go. 

“Come on, Jude!” Mom says. “You need time to check in.”

“Yeah, yeah, it’ll be fine.”

“Do you have your boarding pass?”

“Yes.”

“Passport?”

“Of course.”

“Phone? Wallet? Charger?” 

“Yes, yes, yes.”

I fling the passenger door of the Audi open and throw my backpack inside. 

Then, from the bushes, there is a rustling, and I pause. 

On the gravel, I stand and I watch as a cat emerges from the laurel. He is small, with grey, slinky fur and a collar with a bell that tinkles with each step. His eyes are funny, like looking two directions at once. A strange, otherworldly face, like he is oblivious to his own existence. 

He saunters over and rubs his furry cheek against my ankle, his body vibrating with a contented purr. I frown. 

“Goose?” 

He doesn’t know he is Goose. 

He remembers me.

“Oh, Jude, for God’s sake!” Mom hisses. “Get in the car!”

“I’m coming, I’m coming.”

“Leave that cat alone. Don’t encourage it. It’ll come by looking for food from me, tormenting me every time I leave the house.”

“Alright, fine.”

As though he understands, Goose skips away and disappears back into the bushes like he was never even there. Like something I conjured from my imagination. I just scratch my head. 

“There’s hand sanitizer in the glove compartment,” Mom says as I duck inside the vehicle. “Don’t touch anything until you’ve used it.”

“Can’t open the glove compartment if I can’t touch it.”

“Oh, bloody hell,” She snaps it open for me as we pull out of the driveway, and I take one more look back at the house, and the guest room, the white curtains still drawn and still. 

And I keep looking back until it’s all the way out of sight. 

Beginning // Prev // Next

Corresponding LG Chapter

[oliversrarebooks]

The Rare Bookseller Part 68: Oliver's Speakeasy

Previous > Masterlist

tw: mind control, blood drinking

October 1925

"You have to relax a bit, Oliver," said Roger. "If you're holding your breath while I lace your corset, it will be dreadfully uncomfortable."

Oliver let out his breath and tried to calm his nerves. "I'm not used to corsets. It's not anything I thought I'd ever have to wear."

"That's how I felt as well, but vampires do love their low-necked ballgowns on men and women alike. It's another thing I've become accustomed to -- out of all the adjustments that come with being a vampire's thrall, dresses are minor."

"That's true enough. I can only hope I look acceptable in it."

"Given how your master looks at you, I believe he would think you're fetching in a flour sack." He began to lace the corset tight. "You're quite devoted to pleasing your master, aren't you?"

"I find that I can't help myself. Isn't that the effect of the enthrallment?"

"One effect, certainly. Although after twenty years, I hardly know where the enthrallment ends and I begin."

Oliver nodded. He didn't need twenty years to feel that way. He already felt as though he hardly remembered himself before enthrallment. "You seem very comfortable with your master."

"Comfortable, yes, you could say that. It's my duty to take care of him, and it's an easier life if you keep a sense of humor about it. I suspect I've become fond of him apart from the enthrallment. And I know my master appreciates my efforts." He finished lacing the corset and put a hand on Oliver's head. "Your master appreciates you as well, I'm sure of it."

"I can only hope so."

Roger helped him put the gown on, a turn-of-the-century style done in midnight blue with embroidered roses, one tailored to his exact measurements. He then fastened a delicate gold chain adorned with sapphires around his bare neck. Oliver stared into the mirror. He was dressed like a princess or a wealthy heiress, looking nothing like himself. It was a stark reminder of how much he'd been changed since the night of his capture.

It had only been weeks, and yet his former life was already receding away from him, never to return.

Oliver then assisted Roger in donning his own gown, an ostentatious red number that had very clearly been chosen by Roger's master and not Roger himself, and they made their way up the stairs to their masters' chamber to help them prepare as well.

Alexander and Fitz were lounging on the bed when they entered, but they both stood up, wide-eyed, at the sight of the thralls. Fitz whistled. "Fantastic. Lex, are you sure you want Oliver to go out like that? He's going to turn every head in the place."

"Let heads turn. If they touch my thrall, they'll pay the price," said Lex with startling fierceness. "It's no different from when I went out with you."

Fitz laughed. "Somehow, I don't think Oliver will end up grievously insulting and humiliating a vampire in front of an entire ballroom."

"It's almost a pity," said Alexander thoughtfully. "Come here, Oliver, I wish to take a better look at you."

Oliver stepped closer to his master, who took him by the shoulders and swept over him with an appraising eye. He tilted Oliver this way and that, and took his chin in his hand to meet his gaze. Oliver felt just like that fateful night in the auction house, when Alexander had decided to make his purchase, when Oliver first felt his hunger and desire. Even though his master had taken blood the night before, the undercurrent of hunger and desire was still pressing down on him.

"Master, hold still while I fasten your cummerbund," said Roger, who had started to assist Fitz while Oliver was losing himself in his master. "It's difficult to fasten when you squirm."

"You should be helping me with my attire as well," said Alexander, running his fingers down the side of Oliver's face.

"Yes, sir." Oliver felt as if he were in a dream as he began to help his master prepare, slipping the neatly pressed coat on his shoulders and tying a neat bow around his neck.

Just as the vampires were finishing their preparations, the doorbell buzzed, and Oliver ran down the stairs to answer, careful not to trip in his embroidered slippers. He flung the door open to Miss Lily, dressed in a floral pink frock and tall pink heels, the sort of fashionable thing Oliver saw in department store windows. Behind her, Miriam, also fashionably dressed, poked her head out shyly.

"Oh, Oliver, you look positively dashing! This dress suits you so well," said Miss Lily, cradling his chin in her hands. "Where are your masters? They had better be ready, because I don't want to leave the carriage waiting long."

"Well, well, well, if it isn't my bad luck charm," said Fitz, hanging over the balcony.

"Oh, Fitz, dear, thank goodness you're here. Lex hasn't cracked so much as a smile since you last left, even with this delightful thrall at his beck and call. You'd better have relieved him of his malaise."

"You want me to relieve Lex of his malaise?" said Fitz, sauntering down the stairs. "You might as well ask me to remove the water from the ocean."

"I do see your point," said Miss Lily. She leaned in towards him and whispered conspiratorially. "Has he told you about his plan?"

"His daft plan to get all of us tortured? Naturally. And I support it, of course, because I'm as daft as he is."

Miss Lily sighed. "Of course you do. I expected nothing less."

"My ears are burning. I think you must be talking about me." Lex was walking down the stairs now, with Roger following behind.

"Oh, Roger!" Miss Lily went to him and squeezed him, a fondly dazed smile appearing on the thrall's face. "I do hope you've been well."

"Never better, Miss Lily," he said dreamily. Oliver wondered if Roger had been enthralled by Miss Lily as well. And on that note…

"You look lovely, Miriam," he said politely to the thrall, who was clinging to her madam and looking perhaps a bit uneasy at all the commotion.

Her face lit up in a smile. "Oh, thank you, Oliver. You look very handsome as well!"

Miss Lily clapped her hands. "Now that we've got everyone here, let's all pile into the carriage, shall we?"

Next thing Oliver knew, he was crammed in next to Alexander in the carriage, which was only just barely large enough to hold all six people.

"I've been looking forward to this," said Fitz, shamelessly snuggled up to Alexander's other side. "It's been ages since we've been out to the Tiger's Eye."

"Lex and I were there not so long ago," said Miss Lily. "If Lex gets as drunk tonight as he was then, you're going to have to help me carry him home, Fitz."

"Oh, with pleasure."

"If I might ask, sirs…" said Oliver, fidgeting with his dress hem, "What sort of place is the Tiger's Eye?"

"Why, it's a social club for vampires and their thralls. One of the most popular in the city," said Miss Lily. "Everyone who is everyone puts in an appearance now and then, even recluses like your master, and we all bring our favorite thralls, all dressed to the nines. There's entertainment and stiff drinks and even h'ors doeuvres for the thralls. You'll just love it."

Oliver nodded, far less certain than Miss Lily that he would love it. He'd never frequented bars and clubs, finding them loud and awkward at best. At least he wouldn't be going there alone, but could stay by his master's side.

"Make sure you stay close to me," said Alexander, as though he read Oliver's mind. "Don't entertain any vampires who show an interest in you."

"Yes, sir."

They stepped out of the carriage in front of an unassuming restaurant that seemed as ordinary as any other. Clearly human patrons could be seen through the window, enjoying Italian dishes. "This is the Tiger's Eye, sir?" asked Oliver.

"It's in the basement. The restaurant is simply a front run by the same vampire who owns the club." Alexander pulled him close as they walked to the entrance. "It offers cover, and brings in human money and human blood."

"I see, sir."

A mouth-watering scent filled his nose as the group stood before the maitre'd's station. Miss Lily moved a flap on her dress to reveal a ruby pin, and the maitre'd waved them to the back. They all descended a rickety spiral staircase, the sound of music and laughter growing louder.

The Tiger's Eye club was much larger than the restaurant upstairs. All of the tables were low, with the patrons sitting on piles of cushions. While some of the crowd were wearing contemporary fashions, like Miss Lily and Fitz, a good number of them were dressed in formalwear from decades gone by, much like Oliver's ballgown. More alarmingly, some of the patrons were dressed in very little, as though they were burlesque dancers. It didn't take long for him to realize that these were thralls, kneeling on the cushions and gazing up at their vampiric masters with adoration.

There was a stage at the opposite end of the club where a jazz quartet was playing. Waitstaff flitted among the tables, and like many of the thralls, their outfits were absolutely scandalous. Their glassy eyes and sleepwalking mannerisms indicated that they were heavily enthralled as well, and there were prominent bite scars on their necks and shoulders. In one of the back corners, a well-dressed vampire was drinking from a waitress.

With Alexander, it was sometimes easy for Oliver to forget what sort of situation he was in, and feel like he was perhaps an ordinary servant to an eccentric rich man instead of thrall to a vampire. His current surroundings made him intensely aware of his situation, surrounded by potentially hostile vampires and semi-conscious human slaves. Alexander, of course, wasn't distressed at all, taking in the scene with a smile on his face.

All vampires are dangerous -- that's what Roger had told him.

Nonetheless, Alexander was by far Oliver's greatest chance at safety, and so he shamelessly clung to his master as they walked through the club. He could feel the eyes of leering vampires on him and see their hungry grins. His master's grip tightened. It seemed like an eternity before they arrived at a table with a "reserved" placard on it.

The vampires arranged the cushions and made themselves comfortable, Alexander beckoning Oliver close and pulling him halfway into his lap. Next to them, Fitz flopped over into Roger's lap as the latter sighed.

"The music's good tonight. Who's playing?" Fitz asked.

"They're regulars here. The trumpet player is an older vampire -- I've trained up a few of his thralls, and he has a great sense of humor. The others are all fledglings, more or less…"

Oliver found he couldn't really concentrate on what Lily was saying over the din of the crowd, deafened by the sound of his own heartbeat and blood rushing through his ears.

"Say there, I can't help but notice what an excellent thrall you've brought with you."

Oliver nearly jumped out of his skin. The vampire addressing Lex was a larger man in a checkered suit.

"Thank you," said Alexander with a hint of threat. "He's my most treasured possession." And Oliver's heart twisted to hear himself described that way.

"Where do you get a fine thrall like that? I'm new to the area, just moved from down south, and I'm looking for some fresh blood."

"Oh, then I'm the one you want to talk to," Miss Lily interjected. "I handle conditioning for all of the finest high-end auctions and private sales in the city. I can't promise you'll find one as good as Oliver here, as thralls like him are in short supply, but I'm sure I could help you find something to your taste."

Oliver felt Alexander's hold on him relax as the vampire in the checkered suit started to happily chatter to Miss Lily about thrall sales. He noticed that, in addition to Miriam sitting in her lap, Miss Lily was now surrounded by several other adoring thralls, draped contentedly against her shoulders and over her legs.

"Who are…?"

"The thralls Miss Lily conditions are often drawn to her," said Alexander, toying with Oliver's hair. "This happens whenever we go to a place openly frequented by vampires."

"Good evening, sirs."

Oliver looked up to see a waitress dressed in frills that barely covered her most private areas, her eyes dull and glassy. He blushed and looked away.

"We have many top quality spirits available, as well as an assortment of blood on tap, including rare specialties. If there's anything I can fetch for you, esteemed sirs, it would be my pleasure to serve."

Alexander didn't seem the slightest bit put off by the waitress's plight. "I'll have a dry red, whatever's recommended."

"Certainly, sir."

"A light white wine for me," said Miss Lily.

"I'll take a sidecar," added Fitz. "And whatever beer you have on tap for my thrall."

"Right away, sirs."

"I can order something for you when she returns with the wine," said Alexander, and Oliver realized that the waitress had, of course, only asked the vampires what they wanted.

Oliver looked up again now that the waitress had walked away. "I don't drink, sir, but if I could have some tea, that would --" His eyes went wide and his breath caught in his throat. No, it couldn't be. But it certainly was.

While Oliver had been busy trying not to stare at the waitress, another thrall had arrived to cuddle Miss Lily. She was wearing a highly fashionable teal evening dress with elaborate gray embroidery and fringe, her neck and wrists were dripping with gold, and her red hair was done up in a curled bob. She looked nothing at all like the last time Oliver had seen her, but Oliver knew he'd never forget that face, her fear burned into his mind.

"Emily!"

Previous > Masterlist

Next week: Emily!

Oliver last saw Emily all the way back in the auction house.

@d-cs @latenightcupsofcoffee @thecyrulik @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @wanderinggoblin

@whumpyourdamnpears @only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are @pressedpenn @pigeonwhumps @amusedmuralist

@vampiresprite @irregular-book @whumpsoda @mj-or-say10 @und3ad-mutt

@sowhumpshaped @whumpsday @morning-star-whump @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl

@steh-lar-uh-nuhs @pirefyrelight @theauthorintraining @whump-me-all-night-long @anonfromcanada

@typewrittenfangs @tessellated-sunl1ght @cleverinsidejoke @abirbable @ichorousambrosia

@a-formless-entity @gobbo-king @writinggremlin @the-agency-archives @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi

@enigmawriteswhump @bottlecapreader @whump-on-a-string @whumpinthepot

@cinnamoncandycanes @avvail-whumps @tauntedoctopuses @secret-vampkissers-soiree @whatamidoingherehelpme

@strawbearydreams @ghost-whump @tippytappytyping @natthebatt @fire-bugg14

@fuckcapitalismasshole @slightlydisturbedbeans @paperprinxe @demetercabingreen-thumb @the-broken-pen

@pokemaniacgemini @jumpywhumpywriter @basica11ywhumped @anoontjecanush

[inkandtension]

OF INK AND CHARCOAL.

Artist! Hyunjin x Writer! Reader

Theme: sad, drifting away from each other, hope towards end

You sat by the window, your laptop open, fingers tapping idly against the keyboard. Outside, the sky was bleeding into sunset—the colors fierce and bold, blending like they couldn't decide whether to end the day or prolong the inevitable.

It made you think of the words in Sylvia Plath’s The Bell Jar:

"I felt my lungs inflate with the onrush of scenery—air, mountains, trees, people. I thought, 'This is what it is to be happy.' But happiness, too, can feel like suffocation."

You often found yourself writing through that lens. Capturing moments that stood still, forever on the brink of something profound. But today, your mind was blank, heart weighed down by an inexplicable heaviness. It was like you had too many words, too many emotions, and no way to release them.

“I don’t want a box of fancy chocolates, I want you, sitting next to me”

The words were those that you said, yesterday was your 4th year anniversary, and he wasn’t home.

Or rather a house, because it refused to be your home, not anymore.

He thought you were overthinking, He said many anniversaries like this would come, that you both could spend them in amazing ways when things weren’t so busy. But that’s when it hit you—he actually believed you’d be together for a long time. That there were countless tomorrows waiting for the two of you.

He didn’t understand.

It wasn’t about the day. It was about him. About how he was drifting further away from you with every passing second, and he didn’t even realize it. People change; so did he.

He used to be your best friend, your confidant, the one who understood every silence, every glance. He could finish your thoughts before you even had to speak them. Now, the silence between you is heavy, tense, and unbearable. You’ve started to feel like strangers who share the same space but live in entirely different worlds. You’re still here, still trying, but him? He’s somewhere else.

You feel like strangers, when you meet a stranger, you smile, not out of undying love, out of compulsion.

He thinks it’s about the missed anniversary. But it’s not. It’s about all the moments that have passed with him not truly seeing you. You’re right there in front of him, but it’s like he’s looking past you, through you, at something else—something you can’t reach.

The problem is, he doesn’t notice. He doesn’t see how his distance is tearing you apart. How your conversations have become shallow, how the meaningful exchanges you used to have are now just brief, distracted words before he retreats into his world. You wonder if he even remembers what it used to be like, back when the two of you would sit in silence, and it would still feel full, still feel like everything was right in the world.

Now, the silence feels empty, a void between you that grows wider each day.

He spends more time with his art, disappearing into it. And maybe, that’s where he’s been hiding all along. You think of how he once told you that art was about capturing a moment, freezing it in time so it could live forever. But you don’t want to live in frozen moments. You want him here, now, fully present. You want him to realize that the distance between you isn’t something that can be brushed aside with promises of a future. It’s something that needs to be addressed now.

He’s always that you tend to dwell too much on feelings, on little things that don’t matter. But this isn’t little. This is everything.

You miss the way he used to look at you, the way his presence alone could make you feel whole. Now, even when he’s there, it’s like he’s somewhere else. You see it in the way his eyes glaze over when you talk, how his focus always seems to drift. You’ve started to wonder if he even cares anymore, if he even realizes that his absence—though physical—has become emotional too.

The truth is, you don’t care about fancy chocolates or grand gestures. You never did. You just want him. You want the man who used to make you feel like the only person in the room, the man who used to understand you without needing to ask. You don’t need extravagant gifts. You need his time, his attention, his love—the way it used to be.

But he doesn’t see that. He thinks there’s always time. That you can make it up later. But what he doesn’t realize is that every day he pulls away, a little more of you pulls back too. The cracks in your relationship are growing, and the longer they’re ignored, the harder they’ll be to repair. He thinks you’re just upset because of the anniversary. But this has been building for months, maybe even longer. And now, it feels like you’re both on the verge of breaking.

You wish you could find the right words to make him understand, to make him see what’s happening between you. But every time you try, you stop yourself. Because deep down, you know that he’s not ready to hear it. Or worse, he doesn’t want to.

People change. You’ve changed too, but you’ve grown in ways that are trying to hold onto him, while he’s slipping away into someone you barely recognize. And the hardest part is knowing that he thinks everything is fine. That you have time. That you’ll figure it out later.

But you don’t want to live in the future. You want the present. You want him next to you, really next to you, not just physically, but emotionally, mentally, in every way that matters.

Because you’re tired of waiting. You’re tired of hoping that things will get better on their own, that the distance between you will magically close. You know now that it won’t—not unless something changes. Not unless he changes.

Hyunjin must have noticed the stillness, as he quietly approached.

He stood behind you, his fingers brushing against your shoulder, warm and grounding. you tilted your head back to meet his gaze, but his eyes were somewhere else—far off in a world you couldn't reach.

"Writer's block?" he asked softly, his voice like the brush of a fine-tipped pen over canvas.

You shrugged, looking out at the twilight, thinking of how words could so easily fail when you needed them most.

It wasn't that, and the fact that he failed to recognise that was proof, that he indeed is drifting.

"Something like that."

He knelt beside you, his head resting against your knee.

Hyunjin had never needed words in the way you did. His language came in strokes, colors, textures—the way paint blended into something more than itself, how the space between two figures could tell a thousand stories without saying a word.

He pulled out a sketchbook, his charcoal pencil already dancing over the page. He didn’t need to speak; his art was the dialogue. The curves and edges of the lines formed into abstract shapes, slowly coming into focus.

You watched as he sketched two figures—"us" he said. But something was different.

"You’ve drawn us before," you said, your voice softer now. "Why does this feel different?"

Hyunjin paused, looking at the sketch. "It’s not about us. It’s about the distance between us."

you stared at the unfinished drawing, your breath catching in your throat. "Distance?"

His hand traced the space between the two figures he’d drawn. "We’re close, but not touching. Like we’re in different worlds... I don’t know how to explain it with words, but sometimes, I feel like we’re speaking different languages."

So he did feel it.

It made you think of Picasso, how his blue period captured his own internal isolation—despair hidden in soft hues, sadness under every stroke.

Hyunjin smiled, though his eyes remained serious. "I think silence is a language all on its own. Just like your pauses when you write, they say just as much as the words."

The silence stretched between you both then, a moment so textured with meaning that words would have felt intrusive. You turned away from the window and faced him, the intensity of his gaze making you feel as though you were a character in one of his pieces—forever captured on canvas, never truly understood.

"Do you ever feel like we’re stuck in our own worlds?" you asked, voice barely above a whisper. "You, with your art. Me, with my writing. Sometimes I wonder if we’re talking past each other."

He frowned, his fingers pausing over the sketchbook. "Sometimes, yes. But I don’t think that’s a bad thing. I think we’re just... translating differently."

You suddenly remembered a quote from

Murakami's Norwegian Wood:

"What happens when people open their hearts?" I asked. "They get better," she said.

You wanted to believe that. That even in the silence between you both, even in the spaces, that you were opening your hearts in the only ways you knew how.

"I write because I want to make sense of things," You said quietly. "But you—" You hesitated, unsure if you were getting it right. "You create to express what can’t be made sense of, don’t you?"

He smiled, his eyes softening. "Exactly."

For Hyunjin, art was never about answers. It was about capturing moments that words could never fully express. He often spoke of how Van Gogh’s Starry Night wasn’t about the sky or the stars—it was about feeling the vastness of everything and knowing you were a part of it, yet so far away from touching it all.

He slid the sketchbook toward you, and you stared at the drawing again. The figures—"us"—still remained apart. But this time, you noticed something you hadn’t before. The way his hand had darkened the space between 'us', as if to suggest that the distance wasn’t empty, but full of unsaid things.

"This is how I feel when you’re lost in your stories," Hyunjin said. "Like you’re right next to me, but your mind is miles away. I don’t know if you’re with me or somewhere else."

you ran my fingers over the page, over the shadowed space. "Maybe that’s just how we’re meant to be. Maybe that space is what gives us room to grow."

He watched me for a moment, his lips parting as if to say something, but then he paused. Instead, he reached for his paintbrush, dipped it in blue, and ran it over the page. The blue spilled between the figures, a vibrant, living thing, connecting us in a way the lines alone couldn’t.

"It’s not about closing the distance," he murmured. "It’s about filling it with something meaningful."

You sat with that for a moment, letting it sink in. How you had both been trying to make sense of the space between yourselves in your own ways—you with your words, him with his art. But maybe Hyunjin was right. Maybe the space wasn’t something to fear or fill, but to cherish. A space where your worlds could coexist without fully merging.

"Virginia Woolf once wrote," You began, " ‘I am rooted, but I flow.’ I think that’s us. We’re both rooted in who we are—me as a writer, you as an artist—but we flow through each other’s worlds. We don’t need to be the same to be together."

He reached across the table then, his fingers brushing yours, and for the first time in what felt like forever, the silence between you both wasn’t heavy. It was light. Full.

Hyunjin smiled, his eyes softening as he closed the sketchbook. "We don’t need words or paintings for everything. Sometimes, just being here is enough."

[justallmyfantasies]

usage of his backseat

everyone else seems to be hooking up so why can’t you?

series masterlist

contains: 18+ smut! (fingering, unprotected piv, teasing. i think that’s all idk.)

word count: 3.1k

MINORS DONT INTERACT!

music was beaming, was too loud for you. the air felt sweaty and gross. you had a drink in hand, sipping it slowly. you weren’t too fond of parties, but your friend convinced you to come.

you were sat at a table with a bunch of people you didn’t really know. you overheard some conversation of them being in a band but that didn’t really phase you. you were sat next a bald man. he had introduced himself to you as alex. but that was the only conversation you had with him.

you waited for your friend to finish making out with some man she met. honestly, you didn’t want to be there at all. you weren’t the partying kind of person.

you got up from alex’s side and decided to wander around the house. it was quite crowded and you saw many people kissing and doing who knows what, but you didn't care. you just didn't want to waste time at the party. suddenly, some guy you had never met before bumped into you, making you spill the drink you had in your hand.

the drink splattered over your shirt, and you could feel the wetness on your skin. you looked up at the man, ready to confront him. you muttered something to yourself instead, walking back to the table in annoyance.

as you walked back to the table, you could feel the irritation building up inside you. the sound of the loud music and chatter around you seemed amplified, making your already agitated state even worse. you tried to maintain your composure, but deep down, you cursed your friend for dragging you to this party.

as you approached the table, alex stared at you in confusion. “what’s happened to you?” he asked, fighting back a laugh.

you muttered under your breath, clearly annoyed. "i got bumped into by some twat who made me spill my drink all over my shirt." you grabbed a napkin, trying to wipe away the wetness, though it wasn't doing much help.

"looks like you should ditch the shirt," alex joked. he was obviously trying to lighten the mood but it wasn't working.

you rolled your eyes. "it's not like i can walk around shirtless, genius."

alex chuckled. "i'm sure you wouldn't hear any complaints." he wiggled his eyebrows, teasing you.

you felt a mix of embarrassment and amusement. "you're insufferable, you know that?" you said, unable to help but smile at his ridiculous antics.

the smile didn't go unnoticed by alex, who looked delighted that he had managed to put a grin on your face. "i'll take that as a compliment, love." he replied with a wink. you shook your head, still grinning despite yourself.

alex leaned in closer, his tone more serious now. "in all seriousness, though, you're right. you can't walk around like that. come with me, i'll give you a clean shirt." he stood up and gestured for you to follow. “i might have a spare shirt or summat in my car.”

you felt a mix of gratitude and curiosity. you followed alex, unsure of what to expect but curious nonetheless.

the night air was cool as you followed alex outside to his car. he rummaged through the backseat, eventually pulling out a slightly crumpled black t-shirt. he handed it to you, a playful grin on his face.

"thanks," you said, taking the shirt from him. the t-shirt felt oddly soft against your skin as you put it on, the fabric caressing your body in a way that was both comfortable and pleasant. despite your initial irritation earlier, you couldn't help but feel grateful for alex's help.

as you adjusted the shirt, you couldn't help but notice alex's gaze fixed on you. you looked back at him with a raised eyebrow. "what, is my outfit not up to your standards?" you asked, jokingly.

alex chuckled, stepping closer to you. "on the contrary," he said, his tone slightly lower. "you look quite appealing right now, i must say."

you felt a blush creeping up your neck, but you quickly brushed it off with a laugh. "flattery won't get you anywhere, baldy." you retorted playfully, trying to lighten the mood.

alex grinned, unfazed. "i'm not trying to get anywhere, love. just stating the truth." he took another step closer, his eyes never leaving yours.

there was an undeniable attraction between you two, but you resisted, not wanting to admit it to yourself. "you're full of yourself, you know that?" you replied, attempting to sound unaffected, but underneath, you couldn't deny that his proximity was affecting you.

"you don't seem to mind that much," alex teased, his voice tinged with amusement. he reached out and gently brushed a stray strand of hair from your face before grabbing a cigarette from the pack in his pocket.

you couldn't deny that his touch sent a pleasant shiver down your spine. you tried to compose yourself, not wanting to reveal your inner turmoil. "flirt with everyone like this, do you?"

alex smirked, lighting the cigarette before taking a slow drag and exhaling a cloud of smoke. it was as if he took pleasure in watching you squirm beneath his gaze.

"not everyone," he replied cryptically, his eyes never leaving you. the smoke from his cigarette swirled around the two of you, the smell a mix of desire and allure. you found yourself unable to break eye contact, as if mesmerized by the energy radiating from him.

you felt your heart beat a little faster as alex's cigarette smoke swirled around you. the scent of tobacco mixed with whatever cologne he wore enveloped your senses, creating an intoxicating blend that only seemed to heighten the tension between you two.

without thinking, you stepped closer to him, drawn by an irresistible force. you met his gaze with a mixture of defiance and desire.

alex's lips curved into a pleased smile, as if he had been waiting for you to make the first move. with a slow and deliberate motion, he leaned in, his lips hovering mere millimeters from yours. the cigarette smoke mingled with your breath, creating a lingering taste of temptation. he finished his cigarette, dropping it on the floor and stomping on it. then he looked back up at you.

and there, in that moment, the space between your faces seemed to shrink to an almost unbearable intensity. it was as if the world around you faded away, and all that remained was this delicate dance of desire and anticipation.

with the slightest of movements, alex closed the gap, his lips lightly brushing against yours in a tantalizing kiss. the taste and feel of his breath mingling with yours sent a wave of electricity coursing through you, making you crave for more.

you responded to the kiss, unable to resist the magnetic pull of the moment. you allowed yourself to be swept away by the sensations, losing yourself in the passionate embrace.

as the kiss deepened, you felt alex's hand gently glide down your back, pulling you closer to him. the touch was both tender and possessive, and you willingly surrendered to the desire that was building within you. the sound of your beating hearts blended with the muffled music in the background, creating a symphony of shared longing.

the kiss continued, growing more passionate with each passing second. alex's tongue danced with yours, exploring and teasing in a way that made your head spin. you wrapped your arms around his neck, wanting to feel every inch of him against you. the world around you didn't matter anymore—all that mattered was the heat between your bodies and the intoxicating taste of alex's lips.

alex guided you towards the open car door. his lips traced a path from your mouth to your neck, leaving a trail of longing and anticipation with each touch. the cool night air mingled with the heat of your desire, creating a perfect balance of sensations.

with tender firmness, alex eased you down onto the back seat of his car, the leather seat softly molding to your body. he moved atop you, his face only inches away from yours, a mix of longing and mischief in his eyes.

as alex continued to kiss you, his hands began to explore your body with a newfound intensity. they roamed from your neck to your shoulders, then further down, tracing a path along your curves. it was as if his touch ignited a fire within you, and you responded eagerly, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him closer still.

the passion intensified, and you both knew that there was no turning back now. the boundaries between you had vanished, replaced by a primal hunger that consumed everything else around you.

alex's hands began to explore beneath your shirt, tracing patterns that sent shivers down your spine. he took his time discovering every inch of your exposed skin as if committing each curve and contour to memory. the sensation of his touch against your skin was both electrifying and comforting, a mix of sensations that made you crave for more of his attention.

you gasped as alex's hand moved to unhook your bra, the anticipation building within you. he looked into your eyes, his gaze heavy with desire, seeking permission for what was to come next. you couldn't find the words to respond, but your body answered for you as you pressed your lips against his in a frantic kiss, urging him to continue.

alex obliged, his hands becoming more confident as he removed your shirt and bra, leaving you exposed to his gaze. his eyes flickered over your naked torso, and you could feel his reverence and desire in every moment he took to appreciate your body.

alex's lips once again returned to your neck, planting a trail of kisses that made you arch into him. he whispered words of praise and adoration, his voice a mix of reverence and longing. "you are beautiful," he murmured as his lips moved lower, tracing a path down your chest and over your breasts.

you let out a soft moan, unable to hold back the rush of emotions coursing through you. alex's touch was both tender and urgent, a combination that left you both craving and satisfied at the same time. as you arched into him, each kiss intensified the building tension between you.

alex's lips left a trail of kisses down your stomach, slowly moving lower. the anticipation of what was to come had you reeling with desire. his hands moved down, unfastening your pants with practiced ease. as they inched lower, the air around you seemed to crackle with electricity.

you lifted your hips, allowing alex to slide your pants off, leaving you in nothing but your underwear. he paused for a moment, his eyes raking over your exposed body, taking in every inch. you could sense the hunger and need in his gaze, fueling his actions.

alex's fingertips traced the edge of your underwear, teasingly trailing around the elastic band, before finally slipping under it. “oh my.” you whimpered.

his touch was like a tantalizing dance, igniting a fire within you that only intensified as he moved further downwards.

the sensation of his exploring fingers was both pleasurable and excruciatingly slow. you could feel alex's breath against your heated skin, and you longed for more. you arched towards him, trying to quicken his rhythm, wanting nothing more than for him to relieve the ache that was growing inside you.

alex's fingers continued their path downward, finally reaching the one place that craved his attention the most. he circled the sensitive spot with careful and deliberate precision, sending a wave of pleasure through your body and causing your breath to hitch.

you felt yourself getting closer to the edge, unable to contain the pleasure that was building within you. as alex's fingers continued to expertly explore your most intimate area, you couldn't help but let out a series of small, urgent moans, pleading for more.

his movements were relentless, each touch sending shocks of pleasure coursing through your body. your hands grasped at his shoulders, trying to anchor yourself as the sensations overwhelmed you. you could feel yourself getting closer and closer to the point of no return.

finally, as alex's touch sent you over the edge, you cried out his name, your orgasm shaking you to your core. you clung to him, riding the waves of pleasure that washed over you. slowly, you came back down to earth, your breathing steadying and your body relaxing into the afterglow.

alex stayed close to you, holding you in his arms and pressing gentle kisses along your neck as you trembled. he ran his fingers through your hair, soothing you and offering comfort in the aftermath of the intense moment you had shared.

as your breathing returned to normal, you looked at alex and noticed his own longing desire hadn't been fulfilled. you could feel his need radiating off of him, a powerful undertone to the gentle comfort he was providing.

you reached out to him, your touch a silent plea for more. you wanted to give him the same pleasure he had given you, to return the favor and share in the intimacy that had taken hold between you. he looked at you, his eyes meeting yours with mutual understanding and longing.

you leaned in, meeting his lips in a tender kiss, and began to explore his body with your hands, mimicking the touches he had given you earlier. you could feel his desire for you, and it only intensified your own hunger. you moved your hand lower, teasing the waistband of his pants.

alex moaned softly, his breath hitching at your touch. he eagerly helped you remove his clothes, exposing his bare torso to your gaze. your fingers traced the contours of his chest, exploring every dip and curve with an unhurried curiosity.

his body was like a playground for your senses, and you couldn't get enough. you ran your fingers down his chest, savoring the way his muscles tensed in anticipation. your touch journeyed lower, reaching the edge of his boxers, and you teased the elastic band with your fingertips.

“tease.”

you chuckled, continuing your action. alex inhaled sharply, his breath coming in short bursts as your fingers continued to toy with the waistband of his boxers. his desire for you was evident in the way his hips arched up to your touch, silently urging you to go further, to bring him the same pleasure he had given you.

your fingers toyed with the band, lingering just long enough to stoke the flames of anticipation within you both. you could feel his body thrumming with excitement, a mirror to your own eager responses. finally, with a gentle tug, you slid his boxers off, exposing his arousal to your gaze.

alex let out a soft gasp at the sudden exposure, his eyes never leaving your face. he looked at you with a mixture of anticipation and desire, his need for you clear in every line of his face. his hands reached out, gently grasping your hips, urging you closer.

you moved closer, positioning yourself on him, sinking down on his length. in that moment, the world around you seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you and the fire that burned between you. you captured his lips in a burning kiss, pouring your passion and desire into the embrace, as your bodies moved and grinded together in a dance of want.

the connection between you was electric, an explosive mix of lust and desire. the heat between your bodies was a tangible thing, and it was intoxicating. you could feel his every movement, his hands exploring your body, as if mapping out a territory he wanted to claim.

the night air carried soft sighs and moans of pleasure as you worked in perfect tandem. time held no meaning in this intimate haven you had created, only the ebb and flow of sensations and passion mattered. each movement, each touch, amplified the growing anticipation, drawing you closer to the pinnacle of pleasure.

alex pulled you closer, increasing the tempo of your movements, his lips finding the sensitive spot on your neck. he murmured words of praise and encouragement, his voice a low growl of pleasure that echoed through you, magnifying your desires. you responded to his words with a symphony of breathy moans, your body moving of its own accord, seeking the elusive release that danced just out of reach.

you could feel the pressure building, a tidal wave of pleasure threatening to crash over you. it was an exquisite tension, the delicious balance between sweet surrender and desperate yearning. alex's body moved beneath yours, his hips meeting each of your movements with a precision that mirrored the hunger in his eyes.

your release came with a crescendo of sensations, a wave of pleasure that washed over you and left you trembling in its wake. alex's name on your lips was a sweet sound, a testament to the profound connection you shared. he soon followed, a low groan escaping his lips as he reached his climax, his body tensing beneath you.

you collapsed onto him, your bodies melding together in a tangle of limbs and shared intimacy. you lay there, catching your breath, the echoes of your pleasure still thrumming through you. the world outside the car windows seemed distant, as if the party and its noise could never penetrate the sanctuary you had found in each other's arms.

as you came down from the high you had achieved together, you and alex lay entwined, the silence between you both filled with contentment and comfort. you shifted slightly, your head resting on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart against your cheek. the sound of the party outside faded away, replaced by the tranquil cadence of shared respiration.

alex wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer in a tender embrace. he placed a gentle kiss on the top of your head, his fingers lightly drawing circles on your back. it was a moment of quiet bliss, a space for two souls to bask in the afterglow.

“i’d like to see you again.” he spoke, the words falling soft from his mouth.

you smiled, lifting your head to look at him. the dim lighting of the car created a soft ambience, making the moment feel all the more intimate.

"i'd like that too." you replied, your voice carrying the certainty of your feelings.

alex's smile widened, and he traced a gentle finger along your jawline, a gesture both tender and possessive. "consider it a date then." he murmured, his husky voice laced with an undertone of desire.

you nodded, your heart fluttering with anticipation. "it's a date," you affirmed, sealing the promise with a soft, lingering kiss.

a/n: as i got to proofreading i actually realised how much i don’t like this but i wanted to post bald al and i’ve been writing then restarting this all day so just have this thanks bye 🙋🏻‍♀️

[idkyetxoxo]

Harwin Strong - In the Name of Love

Summary - Married to Laenor Velaryon, she finds herself in a union far from ordinary. As Laenor's vulnerability meets the lure of a forbidden attraction, she must decide between loyalty, desire, and the dangerous pursuit of a love that breaks all boundaries.

Pairing - Harwin Strong x Baratheon reader

Warnings - Sexual content (smut!!)

Word count - 2571

Masterlist for Harwin • House of the Dragon General Masterlist.

"We can keep trying," he insisted, his voice trembling with a desperate kind of hope. 

I shook my head slowly, reaching out to wipe away the lone tear that traced a path down his cheek. His vulnerability in that moment was like a knife to my heart.

"I hate that the gods have made me this way," he murmured, his voice thick with frustration and sorrow. He leaned into my embrace, and I instinctively began to rub his back in slow, soothing circles, feeling the tension coiled beneath his skin.

"I do not," I whispered, my words barely audible, as I cupped his face gently in my hands. His eyes, filled with a mix of shame and longing, met mine.

"You do not deserve this," he said, his voice cracking as he continued. "You deserve someone who can give you the love you so selflessly offer. Someone whole. Someone... different from me."

"Laenor, my love, it is okay," I said softly, though my heart was shattering under the weight of his words. 

I could feel it breaking apart like brittle glass, each piece falling away. But I kept my voice steady, trying to convey a comfort I wasn't sure I believed in.

Laenor Velaryon and I were bound together not by choice or fate, but by the careful calculations of our parents. His mother, Princess Rhaenys, with her Baratheon blood, saw the value in uniting our houses. 

A Baratheon and a Velaryon, the match seemed ideal on the surface, a union of strength, power, and legacy. But beneath the veneer of perfection lay a truth that only we knew.

My husband preferred the company of men, a truth he had confessed to me in a moment of honesty before our union had been sealed. And yet, even knowing this, I had felt powerless to stop the arrangement. 

I chose to accept it, understanding that perhaps he would be one of the few men to treat me with kindness, despite everything. And he did. In his own way, he did.

But now, as I held him in my arms, his heart laid bare before me, I realized the cruelty of our situation. We were both caught in a web of expectations and obligations, yearning for something we could not have, and bound by something neither of us had chosen.

"Love does not always come in the shape we expect," I whispered, stroking his cheek. "But that does not mean it is any less real."

He closed his eyes, a sigh escaping his lips as he leaned into my touch. In that moment, I held him not as a wife clinging to a fractured marriage, but as a companion who understood the burden of living a life that was never truly ours to decide.

─── ✦⋅♡⋅✦ ───

"It does not feel right," I murmured, bringing the teacup to my lips, its warmth seeping into my hands as I took a tentative sip, the hot liquid burning a path down my throat, mirroring the unease burning within me.

Across from me, Rhaenyra sat with a thoughtful expression, her eyes narrowed in contemplation.

"Laenor has granted you permission to do so, and it is out of love," she argued gently, her tone both insistent and coaxing. I sighed, feeling the weight of her words settle heavily on my chest.

"He knows it is unfair," she continued, her gaze steady on mine. "But he wants this for you. He wants you to feel pleasure, to have that connection we all crave. It's a kindness, in his own way," she finished, her voice softening.

It was true, no one could deny the whispers that trailed behind me wherever I went, like shadows clinging to my heels. The talk of my union with Laenor had spread, the most pressing concern being the glaring absence of an heir. 

An heir that everyone knew was not just expected, but necessary, as if my womb were a vault holding the key to the future.

Laenor, ever thoughtful in his own way, had urged me even before our wedding to consider taking a lover, fully aware of the complexities that entangled our marriage. 

He had spoken of it with an almost painful tenderness, acknowledging that he could not give me what I might need. And until now, I had dismissed the idea, reluctant to consider it. But here I was, sitting with Rhaenyra, the thought taking root.

To reach out for another's touch... would it be freedom or betrayal.

"Who would I even choose?" I asked, setting my teacup down with a soft clink. 

Rhaenyra's face lit up at my words, a slow smile curving her lips as she realized I was finally contemplating this possibility.

"It would have to be discreet," I murmured, more to myself than to her. "Someone I can trust, someone who understands the need for secrecy... but also someone I would want to be with." 

I closed my eyes for a moment, feeling the weight of the decision pressing down on me.

"Ser Harwin," Rhaenyra declared as if it were the most obvious choice in the world. My eyes snapped open, a mix of surprise and curiosity flickering through me.

"He is sworn to you, he also has Baratheon-like features. No one would question the legitimacy of any child born from such a union," she explained, her voice brimming with confidence. "And it is no secret that he is quite taken with you."

I bit my lip, turning her words over in my mind. She made it sound so simple, yet I knew there were layers upon layers of complexity to such a choice. 

"But what if he does not want to?" I asked, my voice betraying a hint of vulnerability. The thought of such rejection, of laying my intentions bare only to have them cast aside, was daunting.

Rhaenyra rolled her eyes, a playful exasperation colouring her features. 

"Oh, just ask him and see what happens," she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Men are not nearly as complicated as they pretend to be. Show him a hint of what you want, and he'll fall over himself trying to please you."

I nodded slowly, picking up my teacup again, the porcelain warm against my palms. As she continued talking, offering tips on how to approach the matter, on what to say and what not to, my thoughts drifted. 

Could this truly be a solution? 

Could I truly allow myself to want something more than what I had settled for? 

The questions buzzed around my mind like restless bees, but I knew one thing, change was inevitable. And perhaps, it was time to embrace it.

─── ✦⋅♡⋅✦ ───

My palms were damp with nerves as I walked briskly through the dimly lit corridors, the doors to my chambers looming closer with every step. Ser Harwin followed a few paces behind, his footfalls steady and familiar, as was his usual practice. 

Yet today, his presence seemed to weigh on me more than ever.

"Are you alright?" he asked suddenly, his voice cutting through the heavy silence. 

I jumped, startled, and turned to see he had closed the distance between us. His face was etched with concern. I nodded quickly, unable to summon a coherent response, and turned back to my chambers, pushing the door open with a shaky hand.

Inside, I could still feel his presence just beyond the threshold, his silhouette visible through the narrow gap in the door as he stood guard. I began to pace, my mind racing with half-formed sentences and discarded ideas on how to approach the subject. 

Everything seemed tangled, every possibility too bold or too foolish.

"Ser Harwin," I finally called out, exasperated with my own spiralling thoughts. The door creaked open a crack, his eyes peering in with caution.

"Could you please come inside?" I asked, my voice softer now, tinged with an urgency I couldn't hide. He hesitated only a moment before stepping in, closing the door quietly behind him.

I fidgeted with the ring on my finger, a wedding gift from Laenor. It was a beautiful silver band adorned with two gems, one blue and one yellow, each representing our houses. The colours caught the light as I twisted it back and forth, a small distraction from the pounding of my heart. 

One of the gems had a hairline crack, something I hadn't noticed before. My thumb traced over it, feeling the imperfection, a small flaw that seemed to mirror the fissures in our marriage—fractures that had begun long before this moment.

Harwin's eyes flicked to my hands, noticing the nervous motion.

"How can I be of assistance?" he asked, his voice calm but curious. His gaze was steady, but I could see the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes as they darted between my face and my restless hands.

"I wanted to ask you something..." I started, but the words caught in my throat. 

I could feel my composure slipping away under his steady watch, my hands moving from my stomach to my forehead as if I could somehow press the words out of my mind.

"Shall I call for a maester?" he asked, his concern deepening. I shook my head quickly, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks.

"No, no, it's not that," I stammered. There was a long pause, the silence between us thickening like fog. I could feel the weight of my own hesitation bearing down on me, pushing the words out before I could stop them. "Do you think I am... pretty?"

The question hung in the air like a held breath. For a moment, he simply stared at me, his eyes widening in surprise. I watched his face, searching for any sign of discomfort or amusement, but all I found was stunned silence.

"I..." he began, his voice trailing off as he tried to find the right words. His eyes softened as he looked at me, truly looked at me, and I felt my heart skip a beat. "My lady, you are more than pretty. You are... radiant." 

His words were careful, almost hesitant as if he feared saying too much.

My breath caught in my throat at the sincerity in his voice. I hadn't expected such an answer, and I found myself momentarily disarmed. 

"I mean," I continued, feeling the need to fill the silence that followed, "if you were... if you were given the choice... would you want to be with someone like me?"

His brows furrowed slightly, not in confusion, but in contemplation. 

"I would consider it an honour," he said quietly, his voice deep and unwavering. "But I would also consider what such a decision would mean—for you, for your reputation, for everything you hold dear."

I nodded, his response more thoughtful and kind than I had anticipated. 

"I don't want to cause trouble," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. "But I want something... something more than this arrangement I find myself in."

The words were like a confession, spilling from a place deep within me that had long been shrouded in silence and doubt.

He took a step closer, his presence steadying me in a way I hadn't expected. 

"If it is more that you want," he said softly, his eyes locked on mine with an intensity that sent a shiver down my spine, "then you should not settle for anything less."

His words settled over me like a blanket of reassurance, stoking a fire that had been smouldering inside me for too long. 

"Good," I murmured, my voice trembling with a mix of nerves and desire. And before I could second-guess myself, I surged forward, capturing his lips with mine in a kiss that was both frantic and desperate, a release of everything I had been holding back.

Harwin responded almost instantly, his lips moving against mine with a hunger that matched my own. His hands slid up to cradle my face, his touch firm yet tender, as if I were something both precious and fragile. 

I could feel his breath hitch as our mouths moved together, the heat between us building like a storm. 

My fingers fumbled at his armour, my need to feel him—every inch of him—driving me to pull away the layers of clothing that separated us. His hands were quick to follow, helping me shed my garments until we were both bare, exposed before one another.

"Are you certain?" he asked, his voice a low rumble, his eyes searching mine for any hesitation. His breath was hot against my skin, sending a thrill through me.

I could only nod, the words tangled in my throat, my body pulsing with a need that I could no longer ignore. "I want this," I whispered, my voice raw with longing. "I need this."

With that, we moved toward the bed, our limbs entwined, and I fell back against the sheets, pulling him down with me. The anticipation coursed through my veins like liquid fire. His body was solid and warm above me, his weight a comforting pressure as he settled between my legs.

He wasted no time, his lips finding mine again as he positioned himself at my entrance. And then, in one smooth motion, he entered me. A gasp escaped my lips at the newness of the sensation—a stretch, a fullness that was foreign and overwhelming. 

He began to move inside me, slow at first, allowing me to adjust and then gradually building in pace. As he did, a wave of pleasure unlike anything I had ever known surged through me, and I clung to him, my fingers digging into his shoulders.

"Seven hells," I moaned, my mouth finding the curve of his shoulder, my teeth sinking into his skin as I tried to muffle my cries. 

The rhythm of his thrusts quickened, and I could feel the tension coiling tighter within me, each stroke bringing me closer to a precipice I hadn't known existed.

"Gods, you feel perfect," he murmured against my ear, his breath hot and ragged as he drove into me with a renewed intensity. 

His voice, thick with desire, sent shivers racing across my skin, adding fuel to the fire already burning inside me.

I could feel myself unravelling beneath him, my body responding to his with a fervour I had never experienced before. It was almost too much—this overwhelming pleasure, so sharp and deep it nearly brought tears to my eyes. 

I had never felt so alive, so utterly consumed.

"I'm close," he panted, his breath coming in quick, shallow bursts. I nodded frantically, my own voice reduced to breathy moans and gasps, unable to form coherent words.

"Let me feel you," I managed to whisper, my voice thick with need. 

It was all the encouragement he needed. With a final, powerful thrust, he buried himself deep inside me, and I felt his release—a warmth spreading within, mingling with my own pleasure as I shuddered beneath him.

He collapsed beside me, his chest heaving with exertion, his body slick with sweat. I turned to look at him, our eyes meeting in the dim light, a sense of satisfaction and peace settling over me like a soft, warm blanket. 

For the first time in a long time, I felt truly seen, truly desired, truly alive.

As we lay there, breathless and spent, I knew that something had shifted between us. The world outside these walls might remain unchanged, with its expectations and whispers, but here, in this moment, I had found a connection that went beyond duty or obligation. 

It was raw, unguarded, and real. And for now, that was enough.

A/n - This genuinely consumed me I wasn't even halfway done and realised I had like over 3k words so I had to reel it back but omg I love it!!

[spee-eeeeee]

“Welcome our house! My misty”

Tomas (a little bit like Yandere)x female reader

I wrote this in Japanese and then translated it into English with Google Translate, so I've edited it but apologize if there are any mistakes! I hope you like this,,,

Warning: kidnapping

An unfamiliar ceiling spreads out before your eyes. Where on earth are you? Yesterday, you were sure you had been sleeping in your room like usual. But when you woke up, you found yourself self lying on a bed with clean white sheets. A blanket had even been carefully placed over you. You looked around, and saw a teddy bear on the edge of the bed, two small tables and chairs nearby, and no windows in the room. And a wooden door.

　Stay calm, don't panic. There's nothing good to come from being in a hurry. Everything will be okay,,,,First, you took a deep breath to calm your palpitations. Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale. You felt a little better. Luckily, your hands and feet weren't chained or tied with rope. You got off the bed and touched the doorknob, but of course it wasn't unlocked. There wasn't much furniture in the room, so there was nowhere to look for anything, and you couldn't find any clues to escape from this room. There was nothing you could do, so you reluctantly sat on the bed and sighed.

　Suddenly, you heard the sound of the door in front of you unlocking. You could only stare at the door as it creaked in surprise. Then, a man stepped in.

"Good morning, sweetheart ,,,,you're awake! How are you feeling?"

The man asked you as if you were lover, as if you'd known each other for a long time. Even though it was your first meeting.

"Who are you? Did you kidnap me here?"

You couldn't help but ask. You never know what someone might do if you provoke them. The man was visibly muscular, and if he hit you even once, you’re sure you would lose consciousness easily. Perhaps seeing your confused and impatient expression, the man began to introduce himself.

"I haven't introduced myself yet. I'm Tomas. Sorry for being rough with you. But I don't mean to hurt you."

　Even if you make a big fuss and try to escape, you won't be able to win against this man. You have no choice but to obey him obediently.

"Are you hungry? I made breakfast for you! I'll bring it to you so wait a moment."

　He said, and left the room. Of course, the door was locked again.

A few minutes later, you heard the sound of the door being unlocked again, and Tomas came into the room with a smile on his face, carrying a tray. He put it on the table, sat down in the chair opposite, and looked at me. He said with a slightly shy smile.

"I hope it's good."

On the tray were an egg omelet with ketchup, a colorful vegetable salad, steaming hot soup, and water. If this wasn't the place where the kidnapper...you mean, Tomas, had brought you, what an exciting breakfast it would have been. No one would want to eat something made by a kidnapper. It wouldn't be surprising if there was something foreign in it. Suspicious medicine... But you thought it would be bad if you didn't eat here and upset Tomas, so you reluctantly moved to the seat opposite.

　you prepared myself, and took the omelette. The fluffy egg spread in my mouth. It wasn't bad at all, in fact the opposite. The soup had a mild taste. The salad dressing seemed homemade, but it was very well made. You didn't want to admit it, but you had to admit that it was delicious. When you finished eating your breakfast, Tomas said happily.

"I'm glad you like my cooking. From today you'll be living here! And as your lover, I'll do anything to make you comfortable my misty,,,"

Living is the wrong word to locking you in. And he just called you his "lover." You couldn't keep up.

"Well, I'm going to go and clean up this."

While you were thinking about what he was going to do, he gently pulled me to him and kissed your forehead. You were frozen in shock, but he picked up the tray and left the room. You didn't have time to feel disgusted. All you could do was stand there

[twisted-confessions]

https://www.tumblr.com/cheekinpermission/746227919612936192?source=share

Hope not late! 25 , 5 and 28👀👀

Nope not late at all!!

25. Which character(s) would you actively avoid? Personally, you would not see me anywhere near Vil, Rook or Sebek.

I can appreciate Vil's efforts to have people more self-confident in their own image however I absolutely despise how forceful he goes about it, especially with Epel and the dance troupe. If I EVER caught him trying to change parts of myself that I'm proud of (my australian accent, my nerdy sense of fashion, etc.) it would be ON SIGHT- (Can you tell I'm still not over Book 5?)

For Rook, i can say I..... respect his dedication and loyalty to his beliefs. However? That man... he scares me... Also, i'm still extremely salty over the VDC/SDC results WE SHOULD HAVE WON THAT AND WE LOST TO THE TWST EQUIVILANT OF BABY SHARK- Rook, i don't care about your reasonings for why we weren't at our best, I've seen the video performance AND THE NRC TRIBE FUCKING NAILED IT!!!

And then our croccy boi- Now don't get me wrong, I do love Sebek as a member of the first year gang of idiots. I also don't know a lot about him personally since I've only known him in events and havent started Book 7 yet. From what I have seen, he does annoy me a lot with his blatant disregard and disrespect to anyone who isn't Malleus or Lilia. His ego and his racism also really piss me off and make me wanna slap some sense into him. I understand it comes from a place of self-loathing but dude, PLEASE read the room for once and not screech our ears off. I'm certain that I would eventually befriend him but if we actually met face to face, it would be a miracle for me to not punch him 1 minute after his insults.

5. If you could have any unique magic / signature spell in the game, which would you choose and why?

Ooooh I've never thought about that until now actually. Personally, i would want something that would be useful and practical both in a day to day life or in a fight since I'm not very physically strong. Going with that idea, i'd more than likely pick either Split Card or Paint The Roses/Doodle Suit. Multiple me's to help me do chores around the house or distract someone in a fight? YES PLEASE!! I also have a lot of sensory issues so I feel like Paint the Roses would really help me eat the things i need to or make a certain texture that feels funny to me turn comfortable. We've also seen how useful it can be in a fight during Riddle's Overblot when Trey turned the rosebush into cards and saved us.

If just for fun though, I'd love to try out any of Savanaclaw's UM's/SS's. Now THAT would be chaotic heheh.

28. What is the TWST related content that you've produced that you are most proud of?

I personally really love my HTTYD x TWST fic that i've been writing. Knowing myself, I probably wont ever finish/post it so I'll have what I've written linked here for anyone who's interested in my favourite brainworm lol. Bella is a very special oc near and dear to my heart as she's the first one that I've enjoyed writing for since being kicked out of home over a year ago. She gave me back my creativity and I couldn't be more thankful for it.

Right now, I've even been imagine a Fairly OddParents x TWST fic in my head which I think would be a BLAST to write, where my Twisted version of Timmy Turner (a girl called Izzy) would use their rule free wish to be a part of Wanda, Cosmo and Poof/Peri's family as their bio daughter when they're no longer her godparents and becomes a half-fairy hybrid in the process. The idea of a "magicless" girl at NRC who out of nowhere suddenly can not only make but GRANT wishes that bend the laws of reality around her is absolutely hilarious to me. Haha take that you pricks, you thought I was weak? BOOM you're a hedgehog, now you really are a prick. Rewatching FOP and seeing how Timmy can be such a menace/pos really makes me think he would fit in GREAT amongst NRC lol.

I'm also really proud of the Card edits I've done for other people where I turn their OC's into different rated cards so it looks like it's from the game. Seeing all the different kinds of OC's and hearing about their characters is so amazing.

Feel free to send in any more asks or questions!! I love interacting with the Twst Community <3

[honestlyreadingruinedmylife]

That’s amazing. Of course everyone needs to start somewhere. Of course I understand not everyone likes writing smut.

Young Charles Xavier x reader. She’s also has a mutation. She’s kicked out by her parents when they find out that her boyfriend is in a wheelchair. She turns up in the pouring rain with her puppy under her jacket to keep them dry and a black eye because her dad hit her (you don’t have to write that just imply it)

Hope that’s not to detailed but wanted to give you as much detail as I could to help you write it.

Can you please tag me in any future X-Men fanfiction you write.

Xx

A.N: Okay, I finally got around to finishing this. I'm actually quite proud of it given it's my first time EVER writing fanfiction and especially with it being a request. I hope you enjoy it even though it is a bit cliche at times. Also, there is slight ableism given the prompt, I did some research to make sure I wasn't using any slurs but if I am wrong PLEASE let me know. I will change it.

Word Count: 1251

Pairing: Young Charles Xavier x Female!Reader

Warnings: Ableism (Only a small sentence), gets kind angsty

You didn’t really know how they had found out. You were so careful. Building a wall of lies so thick and so far that you could no longer see the ends. 

You suppose that somewhere along the lines you’d missed a spot, one vital brick that tumbled down the entirety of your life. 

Your parents had only just started getting around to the idea of having a ‘freak’ of a daughter. Constantly telling you how lucky you were to at least look ‘normal’ and not like those ‘other ones’. 

You were one of the good ones. 

They had laid the rules out simply. They didn’t care about your abilities as long as they stayed outside the house and as long as you married a ‘regular human being’. It seemed simple enough and studying for a masters (which they paid for) you figured one more year of hiding wouldn’t be so difficult.

What you never considered was falling madly in love with another mutant. You’d been convinced for so long that you were completely alone in the walls you’d built, that when you met a man who could literally tear them apart you had no choice but to let yourself go.

The argument had started at dinner. It’d been a long day of research which had resulted in nothing but a dead end. Exhausted from sitting reading at a desk all day, you just wanted to get through the traditional family dinner and get straight into bed.

You were sitting in your usual chair, facing your mother while your father sat at the head of the table. It’d been eerily silent from the moment you’d sat down but didn’t mind given your exhaustion.

Suddenly, your father put down his utensils, “I’ve set up a dinner, next week with the neighbors boy,”

Thinking you hadn’t heard correctly, you turn to face him, “pardon?”

“It’s about time that you start thinking of settling down,” your father continues, “most normal girls your age are on their way to having their first child,”

You hear the implication in his voice even if he hadn’t outright said it. Irritated, you push your plate away.

“I am a normal girl, dad,” 

You hear your mother sigh, but you can’t seem to look away from your fathers face that twitches in irritation.

“You know what I meant,” he says your name as if it's a burden. He says it as if you were a curse on his normalcy.

You roll your eyes, “yes I know exactly what you meant, father, and I’m not going to be dressed up like some doll to be paraded for the neighbors boy,”

Another twitch, you know you are pushing him too far, but you can’t seem to care anymore.

“He is of good breeding and a wealthy background,” he picks up his utensils again, “the dinner will be on Monday,”

“Breeding?! I’m not cattle, father,” 

Your fathers face contorts into a scowl and you know he’s losing patience with you, “He will assure you are the last of your kind in my bloodline,”

You can feel your whole body shaking, “I will not go to that dinner, father,”

You hear your mother whisper your name, you suddenly realize that the shaking wasn’t just within your body but the whole house. With your emotions rampant you couldn’t control your powers as naturally as you normally could.

Breathing in and breathing out, you calm yourself enough to stop the shaking. Your father, however, is maroon with malice. You have pushed him too far.

“I will not let my grandchildren be the offspring of a freak and a paralytic!”

You feel your heart stop. Your mind is racing, unstoppable thoughts wreak havoc in your head. He knew. He knew and now your life is over.

“Father-”

“You thought I wouldn’t find out?” Your father continues to yell, “you thought I’d let you disobey me without consequence?”

You could feel your breathing increase as you enter a panic. Everything is muffled, your father continues yelling but you can’t hear a thing he is saying. You have to get away. You have to get to Charles. 

Without realizing, you stand, turning to leave the table, trying to find an escape. With one step, your father is in front of you, rough hands clamping down on your shoulders, forcing you still.

“Let me go,” you whisper, looking down away from your father. 

“I forbid you from seeing that man again!” 

“Let me go,” you feel the ground tremble beneath you.

“He’s one of you isn’t he?” Your fathers grip tightens on your shoulders, “he’s a freak!”

“Let me go!” You shout back in his face. You don’t initially feel the strike, but you can feel the heat begin to blossom around your eye. And you feel the ground erupt into endless shudders as you watch your father lose his balance and fall to the floor.

With the last of your strength, you run towards your room grabbing your research and your puppy that likes to sleep under your bed. As you race to the front door, you glance at your mother fussing over your father, who is still laid on the floor.

Stopping you turn to face your parents, “I am not a freak. Just because I am different doesn’t mean I’m lesser than,”

You turn to open the front door and with foot out your childhood home, you turn one last time, “I’ll never treat my children the way you’ve treated me, mutant or not,”

With those final words, you run into the rain, hailing the first taxi you see.

It wasn’t until you were at Charles’ front door, drenched and with your puppy under your coat, that you realized how bleak your situation truly was. 

No home, no parents, no education. 

With nothing left to lose, you knock as loudly as you can, hoping anyone would hear you over the pounding rain.

Almost immediately, the door swings open. 

Hank at first looks at you with confusion and then concern. He drags you inside and in the same breath yells for Charles.

The second you see Charles look of concern as he approaches you, you feel the tears start to form in your eyes. Finally able to let go, you feel yourself crumble with the weight of the night.

In no time, Charles holds you in his arms, stroking your soaked hair, whispering into your ear, “it’s okay darling you’re safe now, you’re safe here,”

Once you’ve calmed down, you pull away from him holding your own weight again. His hands don’t leave your face, careful with your already bruising eye.

He whispers your name. He whispers it like prayer, like there’s no one else in the world except you and him. He strokes your cheek with his thumb, “How about we run you a warm bath?”

With no strength left to speak and knowing you didn’t need to, you nod into his hands, closing your eyes and soaking in the comforting warmth he exudes. From within your jacket, you feel your puppy shuffle, stuck in between your torso and Charles’ legs. Pulling away slightly, your puppy leaps away from you and begins sniffing around Charles’ wheelchair.

“I see you’ve brought a friend, darling,” he chuckles, as he watches your puppy continuing to adventure.

You hiccup trying to find the words, “I couldn’t leave him in that house,”

Charles looks back at you, his blue eyes wide adoration, “he has a home here, he’ll always a home here,”

[699charcoalp]

All alone with you

Fanwork about Lincoln and my MC Remus. A lot of grammar problems(because English is not my first language) and ooc, my fault.

Title source: All Alone With You by Egoist.

"Lincoln." someone said in the room. "I am here," Lincoln asked, "Want something?" "Nothing," Lincoln's beloved said, "I just want to know you are still with me." "Alright." And then, Lincoln saw his singer smile and wave at him. Good, again, that smile. Lincoln walks to him and sits down. If someone had acted like that before today, Lincoln might have felt a little bit strange but……the people who did this act were Lincoln's singer, star, and boyfriend. So Lincoln thought everything about the man in front of him seemed…… normal and cute. Immediately after leaving the hospital, Remus checked into Lincoln's house, where he refused all contact with anyone connected to his past (except Lincoln) and just stayed in his room all day. Other than the above, everything is normal. Remus lived in Lincoln's house like a cheerful ghost, he'd scorch the pots when he was cooking, and he'd beg Lincoln to buy a game because it was on sale on his steam wishlist (even though Remus had the money to buy it). It's just that he doesn't make any music anymore, and it's like the days of being the lead singer of a band never happened. A lot of people will say "That is abnormal", but Lincoln is not. For Lincoln, that's just one …… piece in the person of Remus, as a seeing every turn of a kaleidoscope, which is endearing no matter what it looks like. Remus laughs very violently but rarely smiles now. Contrary to when he used to be in the band, Remus used to smile a lot at that time because it was unobtrusive. Remus dreaded every stare. In one of the few interviews he was in the band, he once said: “It's a good thing I'm nearsighted, otherwise I can't have any way of fooling myself that ‘nobody's looking at me’". Lincoln replays this interview again and again and then feels proud because Remus is not afraid of him. Even at that time the members of the band, including Remus himself, knew that Lincoln was Remus's fan (of the intimidating variety). "Did you ever think of calling the police when I used to see you every time? " When the first day of Remus moved into Lincoln's house, Lincoln joked. Remus turns around and looks at him like he heard some unbelievable thing. "No, never, "Remus told him, "Why do I have to? I mean……I know you put a huge attention on me but……" Remus throws the thing that he holding away. His hands gestured idly in the air, trying to find the exact answer in these mysterious gestures, but he finally gave up. "I don't know," Remus spoke frustrated, "Even though from the first time I met you the people around me have said that you are a bit strange ……I still feel you will never hurt me." "You trust me?" "I just believe my heart." Remus shrugged, “Even though a lot of the time it shouts so loud inside me because it's triggering some switch that shouldn't be triggered, it's fine to listen and see what it has to say once in a while, at least I can feel safe. ” When Remus finished, he and Lincoln stared at each other silently for a moment. "Any question?" After this moment, Remus tilted his head slightly to the left. "No." Lincoln laughed and helped Remus put his baggage.

Lincoln's thoughts returned to this room in the present. He changed the subject as if nothing had happened, "So what are we eating tonight?" "Sichuan fish soup with pickled mustard greens, Dandan noodles, and Chili oil wontons." Remus began to say the food's name without hesitation. "Can we just eat hotpot?" “No way.” Remus vetoed, “Hot pot and this type of dish are both from Sichuan or Chongqing but they are not essentially the same thing, and I have to correct you on this erroneous idea that ‘all spicy Chinese food is related to hot pot’.” “All right.”Lincoln stood up, "Want some drink?" "Jasmine milk tea 80% sweet no ice large and without boba." There were no pauses, and someone used his lung capacity well. "Maybe someday you'll try some new flavors of milk tea?" "Yeah, maybe when this world is destroyed." Remus roll his eyes. "Wanna come with me?" Lincoln pretended to extend the invitation as if nothing had happened. "No. I don't want to." Remus' handsome face scrunched up so fast. Remus has never been out of the house since moving into the Lincoln home, except to see the psychiatrist. The psychiatrist claims it's a "pathological isolation" and reminds Lincoln that he must help Remus out of this "rut," but Lincoln thinks it's okay that Remus doesn't want to leave the house. At least he'll never leave me, Lincoln thought, and I don't think Remus doesn't realize he's self-isolating himself. The man who can write lyrics that can make people crazy emotion can't be so stupid that he doesn't realize what he's doing; he just needs time, even if the length of that time is a lifetime. Lincoln stands up and leaves the room, Remus silently follows Lincoln out of the room before taking up position by the door to the room, he leans his full weight against the door frame and watches with his arms crossed over his chest as Lincoln begins to put on his shoes after picking up his car keys. "Miss me?" "No, my dear fan," Remus lied without changing his face, "I just wanna turn the drawing room's light off." Lincoln shrugged, he knew what Remus looked like when he tried to lie, but he was happy to pretend he was being lied to. He walks to the door, but Remus doesn't move. Until Lincoln opens the door and wants to close it, through the crack in the door, Lincoln sees Remus quietly walk toward the switch to turn the light off, and immediately afterward he hears Remus say aloud, "Take care on the road. " The door closed.

@pressplay-if I was going to post it anonymously but couldn't find it …… Anyway! (leaving Tumblr nervously, leaving my laptop nervously, leaving this internet nervously)

[imagineitdearies]

Hey I loved loved loved your fanfiction as I’m sure everyone here did but now I, going through withdrawals I can’t find anything similar or as good as yours. So I’m curious what your favourite bg3 fanfiction are?

Hey there!! Awww, thank you ☺️ I sort of got super focused on writing PS for a while there, so I can't say I know of all The GreatsTM in this fandom. I will share what I have enjoyed/am currently reading though (almost all of it involving Astarion), but anyone else should feel free to add your favs in the comments!!

As always, please check tags and read at your own discretion!

Finished ones I've enjoyed:

Seducere by Tlon ~ Astarion/nb!Tav ~ Astarion doesn’t need a reflection to know himself – two hundred years of servitude has shown him exactly what he’s good for. Odd that his new partner seems to disagree.

Nothing is safe by foxflowering ~ Wyll/Astarion ~ "Wyll's the sort of prince-type I would have once dreamed of marrying. When I was about thirteen."

Carving through the dark by skitter ~ Astarion/f!Tav ~ Wren and Astarion descend into the Underdark in search of a new purpose, and learn a few things along the way. Namely, that healing isn't linear and sometimes love takes the long way round.

Astarion Origin Party Nonsense by starkraving ~ Astarion/Karlach; Astarion/Cazador, sort of Astarion/Wyll? ~ A collection of things that ostensibly happen in the same little mental universe. Loosely based on the events of an Origin Astarion run and the various questions it inspired. (All but one in the series is finished so I'm counting it, lol!)

All Our Missing Parts by Viraaja ~ Astarion/Halsin ~ Halsin discovers Astarion was turned before his maturity and all the sacred elven rites that come along with it. Including the sex one.

Friday Nights by SadinaSaphrite ~ Astarion/Gale ~ Professor Gale Dakarios loses his research, his magic, and his lover Mystra all at once and only has himself to blame. When he goes to drown his sorrows, he meets a pale stranger with mysteries of his own.

visions of your love by LargeOctahedron, notyournoise ~ Shadowheart/f!Tav ~ Shadowheart is tired of doubting - of feeling her heart twist whenever she looks at Tav without knowing whether they feel the same. One night, tired of sitting and hoping Tav will approach, she tries to read their mind, only to find them in a rather compromising position.

WIPs I'm following:

Palmarosa by thespectaclesofthor ~ Astarion/Raphael ~ Astarion is stuck in the darkness once more, yearning for sunlight with every fibre of his being, while bitterly reflecting on all the things that were denied to him. Raphael knows Astarion's desperate, and comes to him with not one, but two horrid contract offers that Astarion loathes and dreads in equal measure - but the prize at the end of both are too good to turn down.

To Defy the Gods by ~ Shadowheart/Tav ~ Dark Justiciar. Mother Superior. Shar's Voice Made Flesh. Her Chosen. Shadowheart had emptied her heart of falsehoods, of the illusion of life and love, and accepted the inevitability of loss. Almost.

A Dog's Retreat by ~ Halsin & Astarion, past Astarion/Cazador ~ For most, it was just the end of the Absolute. For Astarion, it was the end of two hundred years of agony. And the transition is steep and slippery. Now, all he can do is hope that there are enough pieces of him left for him to pick up and somehow put back together. Too bad hope has never been Astarion’s poison of choice.

A Warm House, A Ruddy Fire by DepravedJJJSchmidt ~ trans!Astarion/Cazador, trans!Astarion/m!Tav ~ Mr. and Mrs. Cazador Szarr have an ideal marriage. Astarion doesn't know if he will be able to survive another year of it. (And I don't know if I'll survive another chapter tbh, but like a burning building I can't look away 😬)

Alright, that's all I can think of! I'm a bit distracted all over again thanks to the original novel I'm working on now, but hopefully you find something new on this list you end up enjoying 🩵 this fandom is full of so many talented people!!

[oldiesstationlover11607]

🎶I want to saaaayyyy…hello🎶 (How I haven’t used that one yet is incredible).

The day I run out of various hello lyrics and jokes will truly be a sad day in Tumblr history. Anyways, hello! It’s me. 💛. OMG I absolutely loved what you wrote for my last request. Tyler is just something else this tour man. Idk what he is eating, but he is just no filter and I live for it. Honestly, that oneshot might be one of my favorites from you (and that’s saying something because all your works are bangers).

So, you said you were willing to write Spooky Jim so I am going to torture you with my ideas because I feel like Josh’s Blurryface persona isn’t explored enough and I just think he looks good in red eyeshadow 🤷🏼‍♀️. I was wondering if you could maybe do an angsty oneshot where the reader is exposed briefly to Spooky Jim, but Josh quickly takes back control. However, Josh is horrified by that side of him showing so he sort of shuts the reader out. Eventually, the reader manages to convince him that she isn’t going anywhere.

I’ll be honest, I’m very excited to see how you do Spooky Jim, even if it is only briefly. ☺️

Spooky Jim - Spooky!Josh x Reader

Relationship: Spooky Jim/Josh × Reader

Warnings: Swearing, choking, violence, crying - lots of angst

Word Count: 791 - thought this would be perfect for a short blurb type piece so whipped this up in he back of my class lol

A/N: Hope this is okay! Sorry it took so long!

The banging had been ongoing for hours, each hit and crash seeping through the walls that I thought were thicker than this. My head was throbbing and my brain felt like it was swelling within my skull. Josh and I had moved in together a few months ago and we’d been planning to build a soundproof studio so he could work on his music without it ringing throughout the house. But with tour coming up, he had to practice–there was no changing that. I always tried my hardest to be patient with the drumming and I definitely didn’t mind it behind Tyler’s voice and accompanied by a backing track but by itself it just felt like noise–constant noise that never ever stopped. I wasn’t against his music or him practicing–that wasn’t the case at all–but when it’s 10:30 pm and I’m trying to get a paper done, that’s a different story. I could feel every crash vibrate through the floor and into my body as I tried to focus and finish my research before the deadline. Closing my laptop and climbing out of our bed, I marched down to the basement as each step fell in time with the beats. The closer I got to the banging, the more I realized there was a backing track playing, a weak and gentle hum hidden beneath the drums. I leant against the staircase, waiting for him to finish the track which I’d recognised as ‘Heavydirtysoul.’ Something was off though, each hit of the kit seemed to get louder and harder as the song progressed, causing my ears to hurt. The banging continued, Tyler’s voice just peaking through the drums. Bang! Crash! Bang! Each hit caused a painful pinch in each of my ears until a loud snap rang through the room. Both red painted drumsticks in his hands snapped plainly in half, small splinters of wood flying across the kit. I gently placed my palm on Josh’s back, the gray shirt he was wearing slightly damp with sweat. He flinched violently, turning around and grabbing my wrist tightly. His fingers burned into my skin, the tips likely to cause a line of bruises. 

“What?” he spat, eyes completely bloodshot. 

“I was… uh… drums… headache?” I asked, completely in shock at the pain in my wrist. Josh stared at me blankly as if he was turning over thoughts in his head. 

“You want me to stop?” he smirked, standing up and throwing what was left of his drum sticks to the floor. I nodded slowly, desperately trying to figure out what was wrong. Very slowly he started to walk us up against the wall, my head slamming, causing a sharp wince to escape my mouth. “Do you think I have the time to care about your silly little headache Y/N? Do you think I’m not busy and need to practice Y/N?” he shouted. I could feel my heart thumping desperately in my chest, head rushing through possible ways to get out of his grip. He brought his other hand up to my throat, running his fingers across the rings of my trachea causing my eyes to widen in fear. He’d never tried to hurt me in the past. Josh was one of those people who would never hurt a fly, even when he was stressed out. My breath was shaky as tears poured from my eyes and I tried to pick my next words carefully. 

“Josh?” Almost immediately his expression changed from an intense stare into pure fear. 

“You need to leave,” he said, taking four large steps away from me. Something had changed when he heard his name, something important. 

“What?” I questioned, my voice raw. I could see two things out of the mirror in the back corner of the room. One: My neck had a large red mark in the shape of Josh’s right hand. Two: Josh’s hands were both shaking behind his back. 

“I said get the fuck out Y/N! Leave! Get out!” he screamed. With a heaving breath I ran up the stairs and out the front door, not a single thought in my head. There was nothing to think about, either I stayed down there with him and he could hurt me again or I could leave and be safe–and I wasn’t going to pick the first option. I ran and ran and ran until I found myself on the side of a busy road halfway to Tyler’s house. Car after car passed me as I stumbled in the direction of where I could remember his house being–that was the only place I could go. It was completely dark outside and the only lights were the occasional car and street lamp that I passed. As I reached into my back pocket for my phone I felt nothing–it was empty. Shit. Tyler’s house wasn’t too far from where I was and in a split second decision I decided to sprint there. I wasn’t going to be stuck out on the side of the road alone at 11:00pm. I ran and ran and ran until I found myself on Tyler’s front porch. The lights were on which I’d found odd given Jenna was on a trip with the girls and Tyler usually had the lights off when he was home alone. The night air was crisp, the cold air swallowing me whole as it circulated through my lungs. I stepped up to the door raising my fist to knock before the door opened, Tyler standing on the other side completely dressed and fully in black. 

“Hey,” he smiled, holding the door open for me. He clearly noticed the look of shock on my face as he reached for my hand and helped me inside. Every soft light in the house was turned on, the ambience calming and welcoming. 

“I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t be here. I’ll go.” He tightened his grip on my hand slightly telling me to stay where I was. 

“He said you’d probably end up here,” he sighed, leading us to the upstairs studio with the large windows–I loved that room. 

“Wait, you talked to him?” I paused in the door frame, Tyler walking into the studio and turning on the neon lights. He nodded, sitting down right in front of the wall of windows. 

“Of course I did. He called me the second you left the house,” he explained. I slowly made my way across the room till I was sitting next to him, my knees pressed flat against my chest. 

“So he told you what he did?” I sighed, looking out across the property. 

“He told me what happened, yes. But it wasn’t him, I’m telling you that wasn’t him,” he looked down at me. 

“I’m pretty sure the man with his hand around my throat was Josh, Tyler,” I snapped. In a complete state of shock I surrendered, Tyler pulling me in as I wept messily into his shirt. My chest was heavy as tears fell and I took quick breaths. 

“Y/N… it’s more complicated than that,” he rubbed my back.

“He… he… Josh…I–” I sobbed, each word muffled into his chest.

“You need to rest. We’ll talk about this in the morning,” he declared, moving to get up but I shifted my weight so I stayed on the floor. 

“Tyler, I can’t–we–please,” I sighed and he nodded, sitting back down.

“Do you want me to tell you what really happened or do you want to wait for Josh?” He checked his phone as if anyone would be trying to reach him at this hour. 

“I’m not going near him again so just tell me,” I huffed, wiping the tears from my face. He nodded before starting.

“You know Blurryface and how I have control over him most of the time?” I stared blankly at him trying to figure out where he was going with this. “Josh has a blurryface too except he’s called Spooky Jim. From what it sounds like, you met him tonight.” This couldn’t be true. If this was true then he would’ve told me, we’ve been together for a year, he would’ve told me. 

“No,” I scoffed, “that’s not fair… he–he wouldn’t–no.”

“I told him to tell you sooner but clearly he didn’t,” he sighed. If it was true then I couldn’t blame Josh for any of it. I loved him more than anything and I was going to stay with him–be there for him–because he needed me. 

“You’re sure?” I ran a hand through my hair, my palms sticky with sweat. “Yep,” he nodded. I needed to call him. I needed to see him. Anything to tell him we were okay. Tyler noticed me looking around the room and pulled out his phone. “He’s not gonna want to talk to you for a while Y/N. I’m sure Jenna’s told you about the first time Blurryface came out that I ghosted her for three weeks. He’s going to need time,” he started. 

“At least let me send him a text. My phone is back at the house,” I begged. He nodded, passing me the phone. 

“Keep it short. I can stop by the house tomorrow to pick up anything you need,” he spoke, getting up and leaving the room. I pressed Josh’s contact photo, one that Tyler had taken from their most recent tour. The most recent messages about an upcoming photoshoot. I started to type up my message. 

‘Hey. It’s Y/N’ (deleted)

‘I’m at Tyler’s’ (deleted)

‘I miss you’ (deleted)

‘Josh?’ (deleted)

‘I’m safe. I love you and I’m always here for you. Call me when you’re okay. I love you - Y/N’ (sent)

//

Requests open!