#and came face to face with the man that orchestrated it

[rockingbytheseaside]

Hi! I wanted to say I absolutely adore your art and headcannons! I wanted to ask if you would be interested in making a headcannon for our lovely harbingers where there is someone trying to sabotage their relationship with the reader like for example the person is saying that the reader is cheating or is saying mean things about the harbingers and that they have ,,proof" it is if course a lie. Don't force yourself to do anything you don't want to tho!

(Absolutely genius idea! Sorry to keep you waiting! I’m a slow writer…)

✦ When others try to sabotage your relationship with them

Pierro, Capitano, Dottore, Scaramouche, Pantalone, Childe

(tw: general mentions of violence and blood. sfw) 

Being intimate with a powerful Fatui Harbinger provides the illusory dream of having riches, power, and status. Some watch you with hushed murmurs as you accompany your beloved with linked arms, looking all elegant beside him. Perhaps some people cannot comprehend how such a ruthless Fatuus can even court someone like you. Others simply cannot comprehend that status and money is not a key factor in your relationship.

✧ To crossfire with Pierro is to go against every single Fatui Harbinger. The Director is known far and wide as a man of cold words and power beyond the seven nations. All valuable intel and actions are reported to him first and foremost, as even the top Harbingers bow before him. You, on the other hand, were not meant to bow before him. The Jester shall never let you lower your head, because it is he who shall stoop to worship you. 

However recently, a certain rumor reached his ears. His spies related to him info that certain Fatui soldiers, some lowly commoners at the bottom of the ranks, are spreading uncouth jabs about you and Pierro. Intel states that these fools think you infiltrated the Fatui and The Director’s inner circle by some intimate provocation and seduction; that you’re in it for the money and status.

Pierro’s gloved hands gripped the papers. Nevertheless, his expression is placid as always. 

Thus, the culprit now sat in Pierro’s office, trembling as the room oozed with murderous silence. The Jester never raised his voice, nor did he question the man who “joked” about you. The fellow kept spitting apologies, begging for mercy. He knew it was futile to lie or waste the Director's patience.

And the Jester? It took everything in his power not to get his gloved hands bloodied. To hear someone accuse you - his most cherished, as a shallow harlot? Consequences shall be faced. Calming his boiling turmoil, Pierro continued to conduct himself professionally:

He made sure the man and his entire generation met their oblivion. 

With the recruitment of his best spies, he ascertained that the culprit’s disappearance was not felt by a single soul, his entire family gone, and all traces of spread rumors eradicated. Above all, it was orchestrated so that you would remain unaware that anyone dared to tarnish your reputation.

You carried on with your life, blissfully unaware and undisturbed. Even now, you came in knocking on his office, asking: “Long day at work, honey? I can bring you some tea or coffee if you want.”

The Jester's smile returned, throwing away some crumbled documents into the trash can - “A tea break would be excellent, my divine.”

If it’s blood that needs to be spilled to protect you and his private affairs, then Pierro won’t think twice. 

✧ For Il Capitano, the way of the blade speaks more for its wielder than words. If you wish to prove your stance, you better be prepared to face the First Fatui Harbinger, as his might will test you in a relentless duel of strength. So what do you think happened when Capitano overheard someone calling you “weak”? That his beloved does not deserve an ounce of his attention, because you are a meek being compared to the Harbinger? 

His hand instantly found its place on the hilt of his claymore. He left no room for negotiation or doubt. He marched straight towards the culprit, unsheathed his weapon, and pointed the sharp point of his blade straight at the person.

“If you are so confident to spit such insolence about them, then you must be equally confident with your strength. Let your blade speak.”

The poor fool tried to defend himself with excuses. But his mocking meant nothing to the Captain’s weapon. Before you know it, there is an ongoing duel initiated by Il Capitano. The witnesses know that whoever is on the receiving end of his wrath has no chance of surviving. Not when a single swing of his weapon causes craters on the ground.

The man was about to collapse, accepting his violent demise. But just as Capitano was about to unleash his final lesson, your voice rang out amongst the crowd.

“Hey! Cease this commotion at once!” - you stepped up, your expression stern as you stood in front of your beloved. In a rare moment of vulnerability, the Captain’s already stoic body language shifted. His claymore was sheathed back to its place.

“My beloved, you shouldn’t have seen this…”

“And yet I did. It would’ve reached my ears anyway. What did I say about temperamental duels, Capitano? Morons are not worth it.” 

“He called you weak. I cannot allow it.”

For a minute, Capitano kept his head hung low in reverence. You stood with your arms on your hips, scolding him. Was it not for your intervention, that person who vocally mocked you would’ve been lying dead now. Instead, you spared the offender, and the man was allowed to flee in humiliation. 

The conflict was eradicated, and Capitano's imposing demeanor showed he didn't regret his actions. Considering how even Capitano bowed to your words, the accuser realized - you are not weak. Because if there was one person who made the First Harbinger go motionless then it was you. 

✧ Today was a good day for Il Dottore, but you weren't sure why. He was a tad clingy, his steps laced with a sense of giddiness. Giving you extra squeezes while hugging, smothering you with longer kisses on the cheek. Even as you sat idly in his lab, you watched him as he worked on some paperwork with a grin.

Thus you questioned him, lazily strolling around his lab and observing the countless tools or vials. But he waved off his excitement, tapping his pencil over some papers - “Nothing of major importance, but I did have something interesting happen recently.”

You raised an eyebrow, beckoning him to continue.

“An idiot made a pathetic attempt at spreading rumors about us.” - You stopped in your tracks, going still as you held some miscellaneous container with what seemed to be tissue samples. The Harbinger continued: “Some fool spoke behind your back; stating that anyone who is close with a heretical scholar is bound to be equally insane. They thought that if their words didn't reach you, then it's of no consequence.”

Your expression fell somber with each word Dottore spoke. He said it with such profound avidity, that his voice demonstrated threatening intent behind them. So he continued. “But you know me, dear. Nothing goes past me. Vile nicknames are nothing new to me. My work is not for the faint of heart, and those pesky cretins enjoy concealing their fear with profane titles. And they can call me whatever they want. However, I won't allow them to call you names. Not because of my work.”

You averted your gaze sadly onto the samples of veins and organs in vials. You pretended to inspect them, but your sorrow was more prominent. You suspected Dottore already did something, hence his unusual giddiness today. Thus, you inquired in a soft whisper - “So… what did you do?”

“I handled it, naturally.”

“...You did? What happened? To the person who said such things, I mean.”

“What happened? Dear, you're holding them in your hands right now.” - Il Dottore beamed, pointing at the vials of organs you held. 

✧ Today, Scaramouche was eerily silent. You were accompanying him during one of his work expeditions, aiding him with certain formalities regarding his Fatui subordinates. The 6th had soldiers working under him, and although he did not care for their training, he did not tolerate any incompetent weaklings.

Therefore, you decided to lend a hand. You helped conduct a training program for his underlings, making sure all standards were met. It’s not the first time you did so, since The Puppeteer often placed you as the second in command whenever he was absent. And the Fatui soldiers did not conceal their thrill - it’s like you were their favorite substitute teacher who was more cheerful and forgiving than their superior.

Either way, Scaramouche saw that the mission was going smoothly. But soon, lightning would strike. A certain Fatuus, an agent in training, was getting too charmful with you. It was during the usual training assigned by you, and this person was focusing more on his conversation with you than his training:

Telling you how you are a remarkably skilled person. How it’s a marvel to see someone so delightful as you working alongside the Balladeer. How you shouldn’t waste your time with someone as aggravating as Lord Harbinger Scaramouche. He’s even leaning closer towards you.

You smiled uncomfortably, your attempts at polite disagreement did not work with this agent. Yet now you felt the static in the air, and that’s when you realized - Your beloved heard all of it.

On this usual, unassuming morning, Scaramouche walked silently and struck a man with lightning. All eyes turned towards the commotion as you stood behind the Harbinger. His fists were clenched, sparks of electro crackling from them.

He may have been silent the whole day, but don’t mistake his silence for impassivity.

“Next time, know your place,” - he seethed, standing over the person who endeavored to sweet talk you. He permitted his subordinates too much leeway, now they dare charm you with empty flirts. Scaramouche would’ve stomped that man’s head if he wanted, but he wouldn’t create such a grotesque scene in your presence. Instead, he turned away, held your hand, and pulled you away.

He gave you a day off, his mind already conjuring plans to deal with his underlings later. At least he scoffed out an apology. Not for what he did; he does not lament that. Just a small ‘sorry’ for giving you a quick fright. The lightning strike was very loud, after all. 

✧ Pantalone often gets invited to luxurious meetings or extravagant galas. Any party that is attended by the richest man in Teyvat is a guarantee to make high-society elites turn heads. However, considering your prolonged relationship with your darling Pantalone, you know he secretly despises these social gatherings. Therefore, he takes you with him. Dressed in your finest, Pantalone proudly shows you off to the pompous aristocrats.

People would watch enviously, thinking to themselves: The Regrator’s sweetheart, spoiled by his riches. Your attire is as glorious as his expensive suit. His arm is tenderly linked with yours, always offering you his hand like a true gentleman whenever you two walk. Even as he conversed with various business partners, he always had to make sure his hand was around your waist or your hand.

This dotting behavior made certain ladies of Snezhnaya jealous. They could see you were not a noble-born, nor were you used to the attention during such gatherings. You just timidly accompanied him, and Pantalone kept rambling about you and your benign achievements. Childish, really. You’re probably someone who just ran after and clung to the Harbinger until he relented to keep you. Therefore, a group of ladies initiated the conversation: 

“It’s a pleasure to meet a man such as yourself, Lord Harbinger.” and “Why, a man of your status is probably seeking some interesting company. Oh? You are with someone? My, my, I did not notice them.” or “Surely you desire connections worthy of your status, sir.”

Pantalone had mastered the art of courteous smiling, yet even his act was about to crack. He noticed the way these ladies tried to stand too close to him, pretend you were not in the picture, or even passively mock you. Their insolence stenches, and noticing your silent discomfort caused his heart to sting. But he had a plan.

“Why yes, you are right,” - Pantalone smiled with his charming looks “I do value my time, and it’s important to not waste it on shallow conversationalists. Oh, but it’s such a shame that the people in front of us are just that. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

Pantalone turned to you, his arms encircling your waist while speaking such backhanded comments with triumphant smiles. The ladies’ smiles fell instantly, and you tried everything to avert your gaze. “Um, Pantalone? Maybe we shouldn’t-”

“Shouldn’t bore ourselves with such lowly individuals? Hmm, I agree. There isn’t much to do here anyway, only the greedy will seek something in this superficial gathering. Oh well, let’s go so I can take you to dance, dear.” - Pantalone concluded in his usual enamoring tone “Ladies, if you would excuse yourself.”

In this world, the 9th of the Fatui Harbinger doesn’t excuse himself - others do. Therefore, he took you away, scoffing and checking up on you with hushed whispers. Pantalone was offended. Why do they assume it was you who desperately sought out the rich Harbinger? Little do they know it was Pantalone who used to run and seek your attention just to be yours. Honestly, they’re discrediting his neediness for you. 

✧ Should anyone meddle with Tartaglia’s personal life, they are picking up a brawl. Someone dares to flirt with you? His fists are ready. Someone said something unwelcoming about you? Anything in the vicinity can be used as a weapon. Someone endangers his relationship? Their life is now in danger.

Of course, you’re the one who consistently yanked him out of these fights. Usually, it’s nothing serious, as when you scold your boyfriend for such reckless behavior it ends with his heartfelt words and apologetic chuckles. He finds solace in embracing you from behind, gently enfolding his arms around your shoulders, reassuring himself that all is well.

However, Tartagia is still a Harbinger. Away from home, he’d personally search for intel on the culprit who dares to offend your relationship. Names, records, locations, anything to keep tabs on those who think they can drag his family into bloodshedding matters. Tracking is of no issue, after all, when he was still a young rookie, training as a Fatui agent was just the first step.

Once he determines the offender, he’ll pay a discreet visit to them. And this time, without you dragging him away from fights, there is no place for mercy or jests.

At night, Childe returned home, cheerful as the sight of you getting ready for bed welcomes him. Yet in the dim lights, you’d gasp and approach him with concern, catching traces of smeared blood on his face or hands.

Ajax would just smile; he didn’t need to explain. Instead, he would quietly approach you from behind and envelop his arms around your shoulders in quiet stillness.

[foreverdolly]

ೃ࿔ SAVAGE BONDS part 3 『 feyd rautha x atreides!reader 』

summary: destined to one another since conception, your very life belongs to feyd rautha. as a token of good will you are sent to the strange planet of giedi prime a week before your wedding ceremony, only to learn that it is far more hostile than you imagined it would be. a failed assassination attempt has tempers flaring and sparks flying when it is decided to be safer to sleep alongside feyd. you hate to admit it, but he has played the part of a "protector" better than the guards who were tasked to watch over you. whilst you have been dreading this union all of your life, feyd has been anticipating it. meeting you as children had left him awe-struck. . . and a bit obsessed.

warnings: !SMUT HEAVY IN FUTURE PARTS!, feyd is super overprotective in this fic and kills multiple people in your honor, blood and gore, it's a dark romance folks, political marriage, forced proximity, temporary unrequited love, a lil dubious consent in some scenes, there's a lot of talk about breeding, enemies to lovers (in your mind, not his), there's a "who did this to you" scene, knife play, blood kink, breeding kink heavy, lots of scent marking/marking. ( need to edit this later because I'm exhausted right now)

word count: 3.5k

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If the intruder had made another noise then hadn’t been able to hear it. Not over the sound of your heart pounding in your ears. Dread washed over you, the blood in your veins turning to ice as you were struck with a sudden realization: 

Either you fought for your life, here and now. . . or you died. 

Your throat locked up, and suddenly you found yourself unable to say anything at all. Shouldn’t you be screaming like a madwoman? Had he seen you undress for the night? Had he been lurking in a corner or a closet as your attendants had run your bath? Was everybody in on this? 

Every nervous smile and antsy movement came rushing back to you. Betrayal slapped you in the face so hard that it stunned you back into motion. 

The knife that you had hidden away in your room after breakfast was shorter than you would have liked- minimal reach, meaning you’d have to get up close to the attacker. Still, you somehow managed to kick the sheets off of you in order to lurch to the side before he was able to brandish his own blade. You heard it cut through the air, the loud tearing of the pillow where your head had just been perched a millisecond ago echoed through the pitch black room. 

You moved towards the door, bare feet against ice cold marble, and finally began to open your mouth to scream for whatever guards were sure to be stationed near the guest quarters. 

“I wouldn’t bother,” The man’s voice sneered, a smile evident in his voice. “No one will save you.” 

There it was. The truth. 

Everyone hated you, but you already knew as much. There was very little you could do in your nightdress- no way you could properly fend off an attacker without any shoes on your feet. Even worse, you had no shield. 

“Why are you doing this?” You questioned, raising the knife so that you were holding it defensively in front of you. You hated how pathetic you sounded with your voice shaking like that. Still, your hands held strong. 

Under immense trauma and stress like this your body had gone into autopilot. Again and again your training has been hammered into you. You must remain calm. Act with surety. 

Fear is the mind killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. 

You waited, listening to see if he was getting close to you. The bed creaked, the attacker stepping into a single ray of silver light that had escaped through the blinds.

 It was a guard. 

So this was planned. You should have known enough. You would have thought that Feyd would have been the one to orchestrate the whole thing, but his earlier warning had made it clear to you that he hadn’t wanted you to perish. At least not like this. 

He didn’t say anything else to you before his arm came barrelling down. You stepped to the side, almost tripping over the fabric of your dress in your panic. The cutter blade struck the wall behind you, and in the man’s blind fury he left his side completely defenseless. You surged forward, the knife tightly clutched in your hand, and brought it down hard on his arm. He cried out, the sound nearly deafening you as it echoed off of the empty walls. 

“You bitch!” His weapon clung against the ground. 

Still, his uninjured arm struck against the side of your face. The world tilted beneath you as you stumbled backwards, your spine cracking against the dresser drawer as your knees buckled beneath you. Pain. It felt like he had just drilled a hole clean into the side of your face. No one had ever landed a blow to you like that. The guard took advantage of your stunned state, moving forward so that he could wrap his meaty hands around your throat. 

You needed to use the Voice. He had to stop. . . but his hands were squeezing too tightly. Your lips moved but little more than fearful croaks escaped you. Tears pooled in your eyes at the pressure, at the pain, at the fucking fear that was threatening to swallow you up whole, whole, whole until you were nothing. Your nails scrapped against any bit of skin that you could find. He hissed in pain, using the weight of your own body against you as he slammed you against the dresser where he currently had you pinned. 

You kicked out your legs, desperately trying to find a foothold so that you could wrench yourself upwards. If you were in pants then you might have been able to save yourself, but your bare feet slid out against the loose fabric pooled underneath you. The man had struck when you had been most vulnerable. He was killing you. 

Your eyes widened, the tears finally spilling past the thick wall of your lower lashes. He was killing you. He was killing you. He was killing you. 

With the ringing filling your ears, you hadn’t heard the commotion outside of your door. Only when it slammed open, light from the hall flooding in, did you realize that someone had been alerted. The hands around your throat loosened just enough for you to take a deep, wheezing breath in. 

“Help me.” But you couldn’t reach the correct frequency, not when your vocal cords were so damaged. 

Still, with bleary eyes you stared up at whoever’s large form filled the doorway. Begging them to save you. 

And so they did. 

The world just fell away, like ink on wet paper- it all bled around him. All sound and sight ebbed away, the only thing visible in his rage being your tear filled eyes. Feyd had seen looks of pure terror on the faces of men he had bested countless times before. It never meant much to him. The lives he had taken never weighed heavy on his shoulders. He never cared much for anything aside from his own ambitions. He had goals- found minor joy in sharpening his mind and his blades. 

 He had carried his memories of you from childhood with him into adulthood, each glance and nervous smile acted as a balm that soothed any future traumas or worries. He knew that one day he would be standing exactly where he was right then, with you within arms length. 

This wasn’t what he had pictured throughout the years though. Nothing could have prepared him for what he was currently witnessing. 

Women bled the same as men did. He never felt overly-noble when it came to protecting them, no matter how weak or frail they looked. Feyd understood that it was survival of the fittest. People lost their lives every day in much crueler ways than suffocation. . . 

But the guard had his hands around your throat, and in that moment Feyd no longer saw the proud woman that had managed to nearly knock him off of his feet earlier. No, in that moment you looked just like that six year old little girl he had always cared for so dearly. You looked exactly how he had left you- scared, fragile and innocent. 

Feyd-Rautha wasn’t quite sure what love was, but he could imagine that it must be what he felt for you. Losing you was an impossibility, he’d never let it happen. He couldn’t. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” 

An eerie sort of calm befell the room, the only sounds being your shaky breaths as you tried to fill your aching lungs with air. The guard didn’t answer him, only stared with fearful eyes up at the Na-Baron. He was looking Death right in the face. 

“Was it your idea to attack her in the middle of the night like this?” Feyd took another step into the room, which had the guard scooting back awkwardly on his knees. “You were going to kill her in the dark like she was no better than an animal.” 

He hadn’t even been brave enough to face you with the lights on. 

Feyd, without turning around, used his foot to close the door behind him. Once again the room plummeted into pitch black darkness. There was a shuffling sound in front of him, the man trying to get to his feet as fast as he could to put some distance between the two of them, but it was too late. Feyd followed the source of the noise and reached out, grabbing the man around the stomach before sinking his blade deep into his neck. A sick wet gurgling noise caused you to let out a small cry. Still, the blue eyed man wouldn’t be offput by your disgust. 

He had to pay for what he did to you. 

And so he dislodged the knife easily, the sharp blade gliding through muscle and skin, and then stabbed again. And again. And again. The guard moaned in pain, trying his hardest to buck and fight Feyd off of him. Even when the man’s legs gave out from under him Feyd followed him, falling to his knees so that he could continue his ruthless assault. 

The Na-Baron grit his teeth, eyes wide as his knife continued to find purchase in the corpse beneath him. The bastard had caused you to suffer. He had hurt you. Feyd didn’t stop there either. He stood up and made his way out into the hallway. 

The rage had made a home somewhere deep in his chest. He didn’t know what to do with so much anger. He needed. . . he needed to make everyone atone for what they had done to you. Did they think that he would approve of their lame assassination attempt? 

“You heard everything and did nothing!” He screamed out at the other guards who stood in the hallway. 

His hands were coated in blood, his black shirt and night pants soaked through, clinging to his skin. All they could do was watch him, unable to say anything at all. Feyd knew that they could not deny his claims. They had all been in on this from the start. 

And so he raised his blade again and did not stop until every man in the hallway was long-dead. 

Not a word had been said since the incident. You didn’t even complain when Feyd had all but dragged you through the halls, rather you followed him as emotionless as a doll. The blood of the fallen marred your arms and crisp white nightdress. It was as if your body had gone into auto pilot. Your mind was lost to you, as you felt as though you were floating off somewhere far away. You no longer existed at all. 

You were just a hollow shell now, in a state of shock that had you shutting down completely. 

Where was he taking you? You didn’t know, nor did you particularly care anymore. 

The guard’s final breaths had sounded wet, probably due to the blood in his lungs. The blade hitting bone. His moans of pain. Those sounds still echoed in your ears, and you were positive that you’d never be able to get them out of your head. 

You’d never witnessed anything like that in all of your life. Someone had been killed mere feet away from you. And yet you weren’t sorry for him. You searched yourself for even an inkling of pity and came up short. The bastard got what he deserved. 

“Why did you have to do that in front of me?” You managed to mumble out. 

Tonight would soon become a memory that would never abandon you. Even in old age you were certain that you would be able to recall every gut wrenching detail of tonights events. When the door leading out to the doorway had opened and illuminated the room, Feyd’s sins had been revealed in full to you. 

The guard was unrecognizable. He no longer looked human to you, his insides turned out. Your betrothed had quite literally gutted your attacker in front of you. 

Your bare feet tracked blood on the floors, the long skirts of your nightgown soaked with another man’s blood. 

“I killed him for you. I wanted you to experience every moment of retribution.” He didn’t turn around to face you as he spoke. Instead he kept his eyes on the hallway, the pupils of his pale blue eyes blown out wide. 

You cast a look down at the hand that was holding your arm in a vice-like grip. He was shaking. It was almost as though he could feel your eyes on his hand. His trembling fingers dug into your soft skin. 

Feyd released you once the two of you were alone in a room together, closing the door behind him and locking it for good measure. You stood there, motionless as you followed the line of his jaw with your eyes. The muscle there ticked a few times as he clenched and unclenched his jaw. He was still agitated, you could tell. 

“You’re starting to bruise.” He motioned towards his own neck. 

Your hand flew up to your throat, poking at the tender skin. It felt hot under your touch- sore too. It would serve as a reminder of how close you had come to death. Tonight you felt nothing. . . but what about tomorrow? Would you ever be able to sleep again? 

“How did you know that I was being attacked?” Your suspicion was beginning to build back up again. There were just too many coincidences. 

“You think I had something to do with this?” He sounded agitated. There was no hint of his usual sarcastic lilt in his tone. 

You’d never seen Feyd like this before. He actually seemed. . . offended but your gentle accusation. 

“You can’t answer my question with yet another question. How did you know I was being attacked?” You might have been in a state of immense shock but you still had some wits about you. 

You were locked in a room with a murderer, and the possibility that he had a hand in your assassination attempt was high. Once again you found yourself utterly defenseless. If he tried to attack you now there was no way that you’d be able to defend yourself. Not only that but your throat was wrecked. You could barely talk at the current moment, meaning you couldn’t even depend on the Voice if you needed to. You were as helpless as a child in the wake of Feyd’s power. 

“I see you in my dreams sometimes.” 

Anyone else would have called him insane, but you were used to Paul’s dreams. They’d been getting even more vivid as he aged. So Feyd had a dream that you were in danger? You found it difficult to believe that he would go out of his way to come to your rescue. Still, here he was. 

“Is that why you warned me today at breakfast?” The pieces were finally beginning to fall into place. He’d known something was going to happen since last night. 

“Yes,” He tilted his head, seemingly deep in thought. “Something told me to go and see you.” 

You didn’t have it in yourself to question him further. You’d have to be satisfied with his answers. What you really wanted was a bath and a fresh change of clothes. One last look at your soiled clothes had your nose wrinkling in disgust. The smell of blood was thick in your nose- so strong that the iron scent almost smelled sweet. You gagged outwardly, putting your hands on your knees as you suddenly dry heaved. 

“You realize that he couldn’t be left alive after what he had done, don’t you?” 

Of course you did. That didn’t make it any better though. Your fingers stuck together, caked in blood, as you balled them into fists at your sides. 

“Bath.” Was all you said, already looking around the room that you assumed was his living quarters for any sign of a tub. 

He didn’t make any complaints as you closed the bathroom door behind yourself. Feyd gave you the time to process everything, didn’t knock on the door even once as the minutes ticked by. You stayed in the water until your fingers pruned and rubbed your skin until it was raw. Blood was everywhere. Under your nails, between your toes- it had even soaked through your dress and now caked your lower legs and thighs. 

You threw on a thin cotton robe you found neatly folded on a small towel rack, tying it tightly around your waist before you built up the courage to face your fiance again. 

“Take me back to my room.” You were eager to fall asleep. 

You’d been through too much. The thought of having to be conscious was tiring in itself. If you could close your eyes and sleep for the next ten years then you would. 

You missed your home. You missed your parents and Paul. You missed stability and security. Your life felt lost to you now. 

“This is your room now.” He was laying on the bed, already in a change of clothes. He seemingly took a bath himself while you had locked yourself away. There was no trace of gore left on him now. 

Your mouth went dry, palms pooling with sweat. Surely you were understanding him incorrectly. 

“You can’t expect me to sleep in the same room with you. We aren’t married.” There was absolutely no way your parents would approve of something like this. 

“I don’t trust anyone besides myself with your safety.” 

You didn’t trust anyone. Especially not Feyd. 

“Why should I be expected to sleep with you? I don’t feel comfortable-” 

“I will kill anyone that lays a finger on you again. Let that pile of bodies act as a warning to anyone else that tries. That’s why you should be expected to stay here with me. Get in the bed.” He seemed tired. Aggitated. 

“No.” You held strong. Never in your life had you slept in the same room as a man, let alone someone like Feyd-Rautha. He’d sooner kill you in your sleep then anyone else would. 

“Come here.” His tone caused you to jump. 

You had to bite your tongue as you approached him, sitting down awkwardly on the bed before you finally succumbed to his wishes. The bed was softer than your own, which you immediately envied. The soft mattress enveloped you, and all at once the tiredness you hadn’t felt until then finally sank in. 

You didn’t put up much more of a fight. Your eyes were beginning to close on their own accord. Feyd was watching you, turned on his side so that he could get a better look at you. It was then, for the first time ever, that you fully noted how beautiful he was. Up close like this he was even more striking. Blue eyes, full lips and pale, flawless skin. 

One thing that went unnoticed by you was the fact that Feyd didn’t turn the lights off. 

Without having to ask. . . he didn’t turn the lights off. 

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[incognit0slut]

MASTER OF PERSUASION

Part 4 of kinktober | main masterlist

meandom!Spencer/Hotch x fem!reader; Threesome, creampie, dumbification, degradation, brat taming, abuse of power, edging, dubcon

Your involvement in a heinous crime was questioned by the two FBI agents who were eager to do anything to get you to talk.

Words: 6802

a/n: This one is dedicated to my nasty, touch-starved btches who secretly wants to be manhandled by two older men. Enjoy this pure filth🫶

YOU WERE FAR FROM BEING A GOOD PERSON. From the surface, you seemed like a normal, typical woman, just one of the countless faces within the crowd. But when the doors shut behind you, you find yourself involved in endeavors you should never have pursued in the first place.

You knew too much. You were acutely aware of how many crimes happening in your vicinity. The number of deaths resulting from these heinous acts should be enough to terrify you, but it didn't, because unbeknownst to your peers, you were one of the reasons why they happened.

Although you never played the role of the perpetrator, you were the person these criminals came to for information. You were good with technology, you could hack into any secure system in the blink of an eye. It was almost as if you were a deity of the dark web, a mastermind whose mere presence served as a godsend to those carrying out these crimes.

It was easy money; you gave what they wanted, received what they paid you, and most importantly, you made sure to never look back. You always wiped everything out after each job was done, but somehow, after working on so many deals, your luck finally struck out.

Somebody hacked into your system—no, somebody good hacked into your system. This person knew what they were doing. They managed to hack through your firewall and retrieve a few of your data while also discovering your identity.

You honestly wanted to praise whoever was on the other side because you had never encountered someone who could match, if not surpass, your own skill. But it wasn't until you heard the loud banging on your front door, followed by people in uniformed vests rushing in and pointing their guns at you, that you finally realized who had breached your system.

It was the FBI.

So that was how you found yourself sitting inside an interrogation room hours later with two agents across from you. A very tall, intimidating man stood at the corner, his arms crossed as he watched you silently. Dr. Spencer Reid was how he introduced himself, and the way he emphasized the title in front of his name, you were certain he was the type of person who took extreme pride in his intelligence.

He seemed a little too cocky.

Special Agent Aaron Hotchner, on the other hand, was hard to decipher. The older man appeared somewhat guarded as if his job had forced him to put on a facade devoid of genuine emotions. Maybe it did. He was, after all, a federal agent. Both of them were. These men were probably taught to master the art of maintaining an inscrutable poker face.

Nevertheless, they were both intimidating, and you wondered to yourself, was good cop bad cop not a thing anymore? Because as far as this was going, none of them seemed inclined to make things easy for you.

The man in front of you cleared his throat, his voice was a well-practiced blend of authority and curiosity. "You've been quite elusive, haven't you, Miss Y/L/N?"

You leaned back, studying him through half-lidded eyes, your fingers tracing the edges of the table with a cool, almost casual detachment. "Elusiveness is a matter of perspective, Agent Hotchner. I prefer to think of it as adaptability."

"Adaptability?" He leaned in closer, his sharp gaze never wavering. "You've made quite a name for yourself. You've infiltrated government agencies, stolen classified data, and even orchestrated financial heists... Impressive, I must say."

A faint smile danced upon your lips, revealing just a glimmer of amusement. "I simply explore the hidden avenues of the World Wide Web. It's not about the thrill; it's about the knowledge."

His eyes narrowed. "But your actions have consequences. You've caused quite a chaos, don't you think?"

"Consequences are a part of every action, whether in the digital realm or the physical world. As for chaos..." You met his gaze with unwavering confidence. "Well, sometimes chaos is necessary for evolution."

He leaned back, his expression unyielding. "Evolution or anarchy?"

"As I said, everything is a matter of perspective, even anarchy," you replied, your voice smooth as silk. "In the grand scheme of things, I'm just a catalyst. Society's flaws were there long before I came along."

The man in the corner took a step forward. His eyes bore into you with resolve as if he had grown weary of the ongoing debate. "You've had your say," he interjected with a steely tone. "You know why you're here. Our victim's files were found on your computer, we need to know who requested them."

You met his gaze with a mixture of defiance and amusement, unfazed by his direct approach. "Doctor Reid," you said, your voice laced with a hint of mock surprise. "Always chasing ghosts in the machine, aren't you?"

His expression remained composed, his intellect undeniably sharp. "We're not here to discuss my pursuits. We're here to talk about the life you've disrupted."

"Disrupted? I'd say I've merely revealed the cracks in the system. Your victim, as you call them, was a casualty of a much larger game."

"Games have rules, Miss Y/L/N. You seem to operate outside of them."

"Rules are made to be broken, Spencer," you retorted, your tone cutting like a blade through the air. "I can call you that, right? I hate having to speak with such formalities."

"It's Doctor Reid," he corrected. "Tell us who you're working for."

His unwavering determination was met with a subtle, knowing smile from you. You leaned forward, your eyes locking onto his with a hint of intrigue.

"I don't know, Spencer," you began, your tone slightly softer, as if you were letting him in on a secret, "The digital world is a labyrinth of information. Files come and go, they disappear and reappear... It's like trying to catch a shadow in the dark. It's useless."

He addressed you with a cold stare. "You're playing a dangerous game here."

You raised an eyebrow, your voice honeyed with allure. "Oh, I'm well aware of the game we're playing. But don't mistake my refusal to cooperate for arrogance. It's just that some secrets are meant to stay hidden."

The room seemed to contract, the air thick with unresolved tension. Aaron cleared his throat and your eyes fell back on him. "Miss Y/L/N, give us a name and we can make things easier for you. But if you don't cooperate..." His eyes traveled down along your body, the goosebumps rose on your skin in response to the heat of his gaze. "I'm afraid we have to resort to extreme measures."

A brief pause hung in the room. There was something in the way he was staring at you. He was looking at you with a profound determination that seemed very different from the way he assessed you before. Under the weight of his scrutiny, you felt your body growing hot. Your breath hitched, and a flush of warmth crept up your neck and tingled in your cheeks.

You regarded him for a moment before you finally spoke, your voice calm but tinged with a hint of defiance.

"If you think you can break me, Aaron, you're gravely mistaken. But if you're interested in the name..." you leaned back, crossing your arms. "I guess you'll have to earn it."

The tension in the room escalated as your words hung in the air. His jaw clenched, and when you thought you had won the upper hand over this battle of wits, he surprised you by waving his hand in the air, and Spencer came forward.

It was as if they had planned this. The way Aaron instructed his partner to move seemed rehearsed and calculated. Spencer walked over to you and before you could register what was happening, he grabbed onto your arm and wrenched you out of your chair with a force you didn't know he possessed.

Your voice carried a mix of anger and frustration as you protested, "What the hell are you doing?"

You suddenly felt him run his hands along your arms. "Checking for weapons."

The scoff you gave him was loud. "Oh, now you're treating me like a criminal?"

"It's a mere precaution."

And then you felt it, the way his touch lingered on your body. It was far from any normal search. His hands felt warm on your skin, even over the material of your shirt, as he continued to pat down your arms. There was a certain roughness in his movements as he slid his arms around your backside and you couldn't mistake the way he gripped your ass more than he should probably have.

"This is ridiculous," you muttered under your breath. "You won't find anything."

"I'll be the judge of that." He slightly shoved your shoulders. "Put your hands on the table."

You reluctantly did as you were told, silently gritting your teeth. His hands moved with purpose, and as much as you wanted to stop this questionable act, your body was reacting in a way that had you questioning yourself instead.

Why was your heart beating so fast as he stood behind you? Why was it getting so hard to breathe when his hands slipped around your waist? And why did it seem you were anticipating more when his palms slightly hovered over your breasts?

"Is this really necessary?" You asked quietly, trying to act as if his rough hands on you weren't affecting you. "This feels more like an attempt for intimidation."

You could practically hear the smugness in his voice as he asked, "Are you intimidated, Miss Y/L/N?"

You liked to think that you weren't, but honestly, you didn't know anymore. You had tried your best to put on a mask to avoid appearing weak, but as he started to squeeze your breasts in the palm of his hands, it finally dawned on you what was happening—You were finally caught, there was a high chance of you ending up in jail, and now a federal agent was touching you inappropriately, groping you in a crude form of patting you down.

And to your dismay, you actually liked it.

But you had too much of a pride, that was why you found yourself lying through your teeth. "No."

Spencer hummed a reply as if he didn't believe you. He squeezed your breasts through your shirt again, palming at them as he slightly felt your nipples stiffen through the material, and he couldn't resist rolling them as his touch continued lower. Your breath hitched as he mapped out your curves, one of his hands delving between your thighs before he stopped right at the center of your heat.

You let out a gasp.

"I-Is this even legal?"

Your mind went blurry as you felt his fingers touching you through the thin fabric of your pants. "Are you questioning how the law enforcement works?"

You couldn't answer him. Not because you didn't want to, but because you weren't able to form any coherent words as he continued to palm your sex, his fingers continuing to rub you. You were suddenly so focused on the way he was touching you, your head hanging low as you felt the sensation throughout your body, that you didn't even hear Aaron calling out your name.

It wasn't until Spencer retrieved his hand from between your thighs, and yanked your hair from behind, that you were forced to meet Aaron's gaze. "He called you," Spencer mocked, tightening his grip.

Aaron leaned forward, assessing the way you were arching your back with both of your hands planted on the table. "You have two options. One, we can play nicely, you give us a name and we'll go easy on you." His voice dropped lower as he continued, "Or two, you keep with this attitude and we might have to coax the answer out of you."

You locked eyes with him, a silent challenge burning in your gaze. Despite being in this vulnerable position, there was an undeniable strength in your stare, a refusal to surrender to their intimidation. Aaron met your gaze with a profound understanding.

"The hard way it is then." You saw him lean back in his chair as he crossed his arms, the subtle movement actuating his broad chest. "You know what to do, Reid."

There was nothing remotely gentle about the way Spencer handled you after those words. He shoved you, knocking the air out of your lungs as you gasped, your body pressed against the cool surface of the table. Somehow between your struggles, he managed to slide his hands around your waist, unbuttoning your pants before pushing them down your legs.

The air hit your bare skin, and even when you felt the cool breeze, your body was seething with fire, burning through your veins. The warmth spread along your cheeks as you realized you were wearing your skimpiest underwear, a flimsy material of dark lace that barely covered your sex. He gripped your ass with the palm of his hands, fingertips digging into the plush skin as he spread you apart.

"Well, aren't you a pretty thing?" You felt him shift behind you and you imagined him kneeling right in front of your heat. The moment his knuckles brushed along your wet patch, your hips bucked involuntarily. "She's wet, Hotch, I think she's getting a little too excited."

"I'm not surprised," the older man said. "She does seem like a slut."

Your head snapped at him. "I am not a slut."

"Oh, you are a slut." He leaned forward and reached out his hand, holding your chin in a vice grip, forcing you to look at him. "And we'll prove you how much of a whore you actually are."

Right on queue, a surprised gasp left your lips when Spencer's large palm burned your skin, giving your ass a harsh slap. The sound echoed in the room and he repeated the motion, watching in satisfaction the way your ass rippled for him. You fell into a false sense of security as he began to soothe his hand against your burning skin before pulling back to give another loud smack, and your mouth fell apart in pleasure.

"Not a fucking slut?" Aaron taunted, his thumb brushing on your lower lip. "That's the most farfetched lie you told us ever since you walked through that door."

You glared at him, but your defiance slowly shattered when you felt Spencer pulling down your panties over the curve of your ass, slipping them down your legs. The evidence of your arousal stuck onto the fabric and you felt your cheeks going warm in embarrassment. Spencer sucked in a gasp as he took in the sight of your lower half completely naked for him.

"Barely even touched you and you're soaking wet," he murmured, letting his thumb brush over your pussy, gauging your reaction. Your nose scrunched as you tried to bite back a moan that threatened to slip out. He started with gentle strokes, keeping his fingers only on the outer side, yet you could still feel his touch everywhere.

Each downstroke he made gave a light pull against your clit without giving any direct contact, and each time his fingers came back up, he slowly spread your folds open for him, briefly allowing your slickness to come in contact with the cold breeze of air.

Your mind became hazy, and just when you thought your body couldn't react more to his touch, he slipped a finger between your folds, feeling your slick against the dainty flesh. The motion caused your hips to buck erratically and your hands immediately reached up to grip onto the edge of the table.

He slipped deep inside you as your arousal coated him, circling your tight entrance as he felt the way your walls fluttered around the tip of his finger. He let out a low grunt as he felt how tight you were around him, curling at the knuckle while he began to drag his calloused pad against the soft spot inside you, making your body shake just from the mere contact.

The subtle reaction didn't go unnoticed by Aaron and he watched as your eyes glazed over. He couldn't stop himself from smirking, his features revealing a hint of amusement.

"You're enjoying this too much. I'm starting to think you're keeping your silence for the sake of this." You moved your head away from his grasp, only for him to grip your jaw harder. "Don't fucking move. Keep your eyes on me while he fucks your tight little pussy."

You never thought you'd be hearing such crude words from him, not with his stoic demeanor and polished facade, nor did you expect your body to react the way it did when those words filled your ears. You couldn't help it, your body betrayed your mind as your cunt continued to throb between your thighs. You could feel the desire building inside you, threatening to burst as you felt your body shake, and Spencer was well aware of this as he felt your walls clenching around his finger.

The laugh coming through his lips rang in your ears, sending shivers down your spine. "She liked that."

Aaron raised his eyebrows at you. "You like it when I talk like this?" He taunted. "You like it when I tell you how much of a slut you are taking his fingers so deep inside you?"

Your eyelids dropped lower at his words, and right at that moment, a lewd squelch filled the room as Spencer slowly slipped another finger into your dripping cunt, stretching you out as he began to thrust them inside you at a steady pace. Your body quivered as your breath quickened, and you found yourself grinding against his touch, desperately trying to get him to press the same spot inside you.

"Look at you fucking yourself on my fingers," Spencer cooed, his free hand smacking your bare ass again, and you found yourself arching your back. "You really are filthy."

Aaron laughed. "Acting like you didn't want it a second ago." He gripped your jaw tighter, forcing a gasp out of you at the subtle pain. He took advantage of your opened mouth by slipping his thumb inside. "Suck on my finger, Sweetheart."

You didn't know which one surprised you the most, his sudden term of endearment, or the order he gave you. You hesitated, because the moment you willingly sucked on his finger, you knew you would lose. The moment you followed through to his demand, he would have the upper hand and you would simply be the pawn in this game.

Aaron, as you realized, wasn't a patient man. His other hand reached for your hair and then, with a sharp and sudden yank, he tore at your hair. "Don't make me use more force than I already am."

Your roots tingled, your scalp throbbing, and a few tears welled up in your eyes. You blinked them away, not wanting to show any sign of weakness, and leveled your gaze at him.

He pulled your hair again. "Suck."

The pain was so much for you that you found yourself wavering. You swirled your tongue around his thumb before closing your lips and sucking with an approving hum. A husky moan was pulled from deep within him, overwhelmed by the feeling of your mouth on him, and, especially, the sight of you. "That's it," he praised you. "Suck on it as if you're sucking my cock."

Your walls clenched again. A sound of pleasure erupted from Spencer as he felt your cunt sucking in his fingers, and without warning, he pumped them into you with so much force you couldn't stop yourself from moaning this time. He laughed, as did Aaron, and your body shook as you felt that familiar sensation tightening along your body.

The room around you seemed to blur and melt away at the pleasure coursing in your veins. It started in the pit of your stomach, a warm, liquid sensation that spread like a slow-burning fire, radiating outwards in waves. Your hushed moan was muffled by Aaron's thumb in your mouth, but the sound of your pathetic whining didn't go unnoticed by both men.

You were so fucking close you could feel every nerve in your body on high alert. Your breaths came in ragged gasps, and your body quivered with the intensity of the sensation. Your eyes fell shut as the lewd sound of your arousal filled the room, and just when you were about to let go, Spencer suddenly pulled his fingers out of you, wrenching away that peak of pleasure you were desperately chasing.

Your eyes shot open, dilated pupils now wide with shock and confusion. Aaron met your gaze with amusement, a sadistic smile dancing on his lips as he pulled his thumb out of your mouth with a pop. "Stupid girl, thinking we'd actually let you cum."

The abrupt contrast between the heights of your pleasure and the stark void that followed was jarring. But before you could comprehend your disappointment, you heard a shuffle behind you followed by footsteps circling you. Spencer finally came back into your line of vision and with no one standing behind you, you tried to push yourself from the table, only to be shoved back down by Aaron.

"Fucking stay where you are," he commanded, his sharp voice piercing right through you. Your eyes were fixed on him, gaze unwavering as he slowly rose from his seat. And then suddenly he was the one behind you, and now Spencer stood right in front of you, looking down at you with amusement.

"You know," he started, his fingers trailing the side of your face. You moved your head away from his touch, but unlike Aaron, he didn't force you to look at him. He merely chuckled as he continued, "You wouldn't be in this position if you had given us the name."

Hearing this, you finally glanced up at him. The self-confidence he carried was starting to annoy you and you couldn't stop yourself from spitting venom, especially when he had ripped away the pleasure thrumming in your body. "I told you to fucking earn it."

The remaining air was knocked from your lungs when the palm of his hand collided with your cheek, your head jolting to the right from the force of the impact. Bright white stars danced behind your closed eyelids, and for a second you thought that you were dizzy from the shock. But then you felt it, the pressure that had been building in your core giving way, a wave of pleasure washing over you.

"Dirty girl," he taunted. "Here I was trying to shut you up and you actually liked that? You like being slapped around?"

You remained quiet, looking away from him.

"And don't worry, you will tell us by the end of this." You faintly hear the sound of metal ringing in your ears. Your eyes fell back on him and your heart sank when his hands moved down to his belt, unbuckling it as he let it hang around his hips.

His fingers moved to unbutton his pants before tugging down the fly. The sight of his hard cock tenting beneath his briefs had your cunt clenching in anticipation, as much as you hated to admit it. Then his thumbs dipped into the hem of his boxers, tugging the fabric down, and you looked up at him with wide eyes. He was bigger than you'd expected. He was thick and solid, veins danced along his length and the droplet of wetness on his tip was too mesmerizing you couldn't look away.

He wrapped a fist around his length, hissing in relief as he made his way towards you. "Now let's put that filthy mouth of yours to good use." He pressed the head of his cock against your lips, half-lidded eyes gazing down at you as he leaned forward. "Open."

The musky scent of him overwhelmed you as you breathed in and you involuntarily opened your mouth wide to accommodate his girth. The flat of your tongue pressed against the underside of his cock as he gave soft, shallow thrusts inside your warm mouth. His fingers held onto your face as he watched his length disappear inside you.

"God, look at you—" Spencer rasped, his voice sounding strained. "Good fucking girl."

Each roll of his hips has more of his thick cock slipping inside your mouth. His palm moved to the back of your head, holding you steady as he forced his length further down your throat, watching as your cheeks darkened and your eyes watered. Your hands moved up to push at his thighs as you struggled against his grip, the desire to breathe overwhelming as you tried to push him away.

You suddenly felt lightheaded from the lack of oxygen and you began to cough and splutter around him, your throat constricting as the sensation flowed directly through his cock. The sensation made him groan out in pleasure as he finally eased his grip on your head and leaned back, allowing you to breathe as you continued to splutter, drool dripping down your chin as you gulped for much-needed air.

Your head felt delirious. You were too focused on catching your breath when you unexpectedly felt something thick pushing into your cunt in one swift motion, knocking you over as you let out a scream.

"Hotch," Spencer laughed, tightening his grip on your hair while he positioned his cock back onto your lips again. "You shocked her."

Aaron merely grunted a reply as he held onto your hips and started to thrust his cock into you. His thickness sent a ripple of pain between your legs. He was definitely bigger than anyone you'd been with before, your breath coming out in soft, shallow pants as he drove more of himself inside your tightness. Your teeth bit down on your lower lip as a dull ache filled your body, trying to ignore the pain as he continued to stretch your tight heat.

There were no words after that, the room was hazy with desire as the heat built within the small space. The two men focused their attention on your body as you took them at the same time. It was filthy, depraved, and something you'd never done before. You never thought you would be in this position, nor did you think you'd actually enjoy being used like this.

Because you did, you really fucking did. Your entire body felt hot, a scorching fire flowing through your veins as you embraced the sensation, an indescribable pleasure taking over as Aaron's cock curved towards that delicious spot inside you with precision.

Your body was pressed against the table, sweaty and exhausted. It was torture, the way he was slamming his cock inside of you at the pace that left you breathless, it hurt and burned with pleasure at the same time. Each thrust had you hanging on the edge of release, unable to think straight as your mouth continued to mindlessly babble around Spencer's cock.

Every so often he'd hold the back of your head securely so you couldn't move away as he continued to bury himself in your throat. A pleased sound escaped his lips as you started to choke around his girth. It felt like you were starting to drown yourself as he shoved into you ruthlessly. Your lungs cried out for air as you began to feel woozy from the lack of oxygen, desperately trying to breathe through your nose.

"Fuck," he hissed, finally easing his hips back to give you relief. You spluttered as you gasped for air, a mixture of his arousal and your spit dribbled down your chin. "So fucking messy."

You tried to calm your breathing, but it didn't take long for your brain to turn into mush again because Aaron snapped his hips, pulling a moan from your lips as he started a harsh pace. Fingertips dug into your hips as he buried more of himself inside your tightness, your inner walls pulsing around him.

His thrusts were hard and you were certain you'd have marks on your skin from the way he was rutting against you, a dull ache panging inside your lower half. Your mouth fell open in a constant moan as you tried to hold your body up against the table. A throb coursed through you as you tried to hold onto the edge, your breath coming out in harsh pants. You were so desperate for your release, your body so close to coming undone.

"Fuck, Sweetheart, are you going to cum?"

You mumbled out a garbled reply as he continued thrusting into you relentlessly, your fingertips digging into the table as you felt his cock dragging against your inner walls. Aaron grunted at the sensation of you clenching around him. His eyes drifted down to where your bodies were connected and watched the way his cock slid in and out of your tight cunt.

He was on the edge of his release, you could tell by the way he thrust into you desperately. You prepared yourself for your own pleasure, your hips moving involuntarily, meeting his erratic movement, as you seek more friction from him. You whimpered, feeling his fingertips dig into your skin almost painfully and you felt the familiar sensation traveling along your body. Fuck. Fuck yes. You were finally going to—

A drawn-out whine left your lips when he pulled his cock out from your tight heat. The sudden emptiness had your body shaking violently. It wasn't until you felt a streak of wetness spluttering on your back that you realized he had reached his own high without letting you reach your own.

"Shit," he gasped, slapping your ass as he watched his own liquid seeping down the curve of your back. "That was incredible."

You groaned. Fucking selfish man.

"What was that?"

It then dawned on you that you actually mumbled those words out loud. You shook your head and he groaned at your lack of words. "That didn't sound like nothing."

And suddenly, as if you weighed nothing, he grabbed onto your body and turned you over, pushing you onto your back. You were too weak to even fight him as he shoved your pants off your feet before spreading your legs apart. You watched as he leaned down and a long string of clear liquid fell from his lips toward your cunt, letting it trickle down between your folds.

"Knew you were a slut," he hissed, before straightening himself and tucking his cock back in his pants. Your eyes drifted toward him. He was big, just as big as you felt him inside you. But it wasn't his sheer size that surprised you, it was Spencer standing by your feet that had your heart peaking up its pace. Aaron smirked as he stepped back and Spencer quickly took his place between your legs.

"Look at you still holding back," Aaron taunted, genuine curiosity lacing in his voice as he paced around the room. "You're worn out. You're filthy. Aren't you tired of playing this game?"

You looked over at him tiredly. Amidst the pulsing waves of pleasure coursing through your veins, you fought to maintain your focus. "Y- You haven't done anything m-much to earn—"

His laughter sent a chill through the room. "Oh, Sweetheart, you think you're winning, but you're not." He then locked his gaze on you. "Trust me, we already have you in the palm of our hands."

You tried retorting back but the once-sharp edges of your concentration began to blur when you felt Spencer's throbbing cock right between your pussy. Each pulse of pleasure sent tremors through your resolve as he eased his hips back to drag the thick, swollen head through your outer lips. His eyes focused on the way you spread for him as though inviting him inside.

"You're already fucked out," Spencer murmured, dragging the tip of his cock through your wetness, feeling it catch against your tight entrance. "Yet look at you swallowing me."

He let the underside of his cock split your folds open, resting it between them snugly as he let out a low groan at the heat radiating from your core. The sinful noise that left your lips had his cock throbbing painfully, the thick veins protruding from his length. He angled your body against him, pushing more of his thick girth inside your trembling body, feeling the way you squeezed around him as he stretched you out.

Spencer pressed his fingers into the curve of your hips as his gaze flickered between your face and his cock splitting you apart. You gasped, your breaths growing more erratic as he managed to push all of his length inside you. He ran his hand over your abdomen as he tried to feel his cock inside you, pressing against your pelvis as he pulsed at the sensation.

"Fuck, baby," he growled, "Taking me so well."

And then he slowly dragged his cock away from you, keeping just the tip in your entrance before plunging back inside in a harsh, jarring movement, jolting you in surprise. You arched your back and tipped your head back in pleasure, just to find Aaron towering above you, looking down at you with an eerie smile.

His fingers trailed down your shoulder blades before they hovered at the buttons on your shirt, slowly unbuttoning them. "I think it's time that you give us a name."

Your body writhed in response to the waves of sensation as you tried to ground yourself. But it was hard to keep thinking straight when he grabbed onto the underlayer of your bra and lifted it over your chest. The way your perky breasts spilled out from beneath the fabric made both men hum in satisfaction.

Calloused palms grabbed onto your breasts and your eyes rolled at the back of your head at the sensation. His thumb brushed against your soft nipple, watching as it began to rise to a stiff peak as he mimicked the action on your other breast, all the while as Spencer began thrusting into your cunt at a painfully slow pace.

"Come on, Sweetheart, don't you want to cum on his cock?"

"Fuck," Spencer grunted, feeling you clench around him. "Keep talking to her."

Aaron chuckled as he continued playing with your breasts. "It's torture, isn't it?" He closed his index finger and thumb around your nipples, pinching ever so gently. You let out a soft sigh and closed your eyes as arousal flushed through you. "Give us a name and we'll give you what you want."

And then you felt Spencer rocking his hips at a steady rhythm, burying himself deeper and deeper before he slowly began increasing his speed. Your body jerked wildly each time he pushed deep into you. Noticing this, his thumb moved to your clit as he pressed messy circles against the sensitive nub, twisting it beneath his calloused pad. It felt too good, so good that you could no longer hold back from moaning out loud.

Your cries of pleasure snapped him into action and his hands moved down to your ass, holding you up to him as he started pounding harder into you. Your head fell back, chest heaving up and down, and that was when you felt Aaron closing his lips around one of your nipples. You writhed, your body thrashing underneath both men. Your senses reeling, the warmth of multiple hands on your skin sent jolts of electricity down your spine, igniting a wildfire of pleasure within you.

Aaron pulled away from you and your eyes flickered open at the loss, only to be met with Spencer hovering above you. Your eyes swept over him, and you looked down where you were joined, watching how his hips moved in constant thrusts. He was enjoying this, you could tell by the way his fingers burned your skin and the occasional grunt escaping his lips.

At the sound of his voice, you looked up at his face, glistening with a sheen of sweat while his messy hair tousling over it. The moment your gazes met each other, something inside you snapped. The muscles in your core began to coil, tightening and constricting around him right as your climax slowly pushed through the fog inside your head. Spencer felt it too, and he suddenly slowed his pace, throwing you a cunning smile.

You felt your resistance starting to crumble. The intensity of your pleasure grew almost unbearable, and you could no longer deny it. Your eyes welled with tears at the overwhelming sensation, and the thought of having your orgasm ripped again from you seemed like another torture you didn't want to endure.

You were going to regret this. You definitely would. But you couldn't dwell on the consequences of your actions when desperation coursed through you like a fever, an all-consuming hunger that you couldn't deny. Your body ached for release and craved it with an intensity that was maddening. 

Your breath came in ragged gasps, and then your eyes, wide and filled with desperation, pleaded with him silently as you found yourself finally giving in, muttering a name you had tried to keep to yourself. A name involved in the crime these men had been pestering you for. A name that had Aaron smirking devilishly as he leaned over to you, brushing his knuckles on your cheek in a caress that was so foreign.

"Good girl," he mumbled, his voice lacing with satisfaction at the way you finally crumbled. He was right, you were already in the palms of their hands, it was simply a matter of time until you caved in. "Good fucking girl."

Once you surrendered, you couldn't stop the whine falling through your lips. Your desperate moan rang deeply in the room, snapping something primal inside Spencer, and he trusted his hips into you roughly. A gasp escaped your lips, legs falling open wider as he split you wider than you already were.

Your mind went absolutely numb with pleasure as he kept rutting up inside you, your body becoming nothing more than a mess, overtaken by a wave of sweat and erotic bliss. You felt yourself trembling, your breathing becoming more ragged as his thrusts became sloppier.

“Fucking hell,” he grunted, noticing the way your mouth fell open as pleasure engulfed you. "That's it, baby, let me fuck you dumb."

You cried out, babbling incoherent sentences as he thrust harder, grabbing your hips and tilting into you slightly, making him go even deeper as he moved with you.

"Go on, cum on my cock," he growled breathlessly through his rapid pounding. "Let me feel you."

“Fuck—” You cried out for him, your overstimulated body shaking beneath him. Wave after wave of pleasure came rushing through your body, erupting in the most intense way. He watched the way you convulsed beneath him in your release, watching the way a white, sticky liquid circled his cock every time his skin brushed your inner walls. His thumb was unrelenting against your clit and you tried to angle your body away from his touch, the pleasure too intense as your lower half throbbed around him.

You continued to clench around him between your bliss, your legs trembling from the position as he arched his back, focusing the power of his thrusts straight into your tightness. A shiver burst through you at the sensation. And with one final thrust, his whole body tensed. He pushed forward, burying his cock in your soft, warm cunt, spreading his warmth in much slower and shallow rolls of his hips.

You were breathing hard, trying to regain your composure, and a moan left your lips when he finally pulled out. Cringing at the fluid slowly leaking out of you, you tried to close your legs only to be stopped as he gripped the back of your thighs, spreading your legs apart to expose your body. You were so wonderfully disheveled, your cunt clenching around nothing, gleaming with your arousal and his own release.

“Look at the mess you made." Piercing eyes watched you as white liquid trickled down your ass. A feeble mewl left your lips as his thick fingers moved down to catch it, deliberately pressing against your folds as you wriggled in his grasp. A laugh left his lips as he dragged the string of wetness along your sex, pushing it back inside you.

"I think I ruined her."

Aaron's laughter filled the room, and just as you were about to push yourself off the table, you felt him grasping both of your hands, pushing them above your head. Your eyes widened in shock. "Wh-what are you doing?"

Then you felt it, the cool metal wrapped around your wrist, sinking into the flesh of your skin as you tried to move from his grip. An unexpected panic surged within you. "Sweetheart, we know you're involved in more than one crime." The soft click of the metal lock was loud in your ears. "You need to give us more names."

Your body, still tingling with the aftershocks of pleasure, now felt more exposed than ever. You looked up to find both men staring down at you, and at very moment, you realized, as you felt the handcuffs digging into your wrist, that you were going to be here for a very long time.

[cheemscakecat]

Fun/Interesting details in Expiration Date

Heavy knows that Pauling is calling them, and lets Scout be the one to answer. Also, road safety because he’s not distracted driving.

Medic is so hyped about tumor bread.

Hoovy smelling the sandwich and deciding it’s safe to eat [or that it doesn’t matter at this point].

Pyro standing like that. He don’t know what’s going on, but he’ll still be polite. Also, Sniper just chillin in the back with a poker face the whole time.

Medic smiles at Soldier as they walk past. Engineer’s got that Conhager death-cheating focus at the moment.

Spy’s eyes widen angrily when he realizes it’s Scout at the door and then he smirks like; “Oh hi! Twelve hours was enough time for you to get bored of my absence, then?”, not expecting a sincere apology [maybe one orchestrated by the other teammates, but not Scout].

There was some vitriol behind that “***”, look at his nose. He does not want Scout to gloat, try to prank him again, or give a fake apology. And that’s valid, since the team dying is something Scout should have taken seriously, and the last wishes handled with respect. He crossed a line that Spy doesn’t take lightly.

Dad, I threwed up. But in all seriousness, that’s the “My family is dysfunctional, and I don’t know how to be emotionally honest with people” posture.

See my bucket scene analysis for more on these two.

He didn’t say “You’re terrible with girls” in a snide or smug tone, he said it with like actual parental concern. “Scout, no you have three days! Do you want to die rejected or die before you can enjoy being together? No. Don’t do this to yourself.”

Look at that cup, he did not need a refill. This fake smirk and disinterest is Spy’s way of checking how serious Scout is about this last wish and taking his advice. And when he goes “This never leaves this room” Spy perks up.

Medic was taking a sample of bread tumor puss [or injecting it with something].

They have a whole entire wrestling ring, how did I never notice that?

This is one of those multiple choice questions where you can choose more than one answer and have it be right. But the chicken in combination with the other options looses you points, and just taking the chicken is like the token wrong answer.

Spy sighs when he realizes Scout chose just the chicken. Like chile, I gave you multiple options and you still went with your go-to that doesn’t work!

This room has a gym floor, which implies Spy took a bunch of fancy stuff from one of his rooms just for this date training. Also shoutout to the other teammates for helping with this.

Okay, so most of these decorations came from Pyro, who Scout is terrified of. Archimedes came from Medic, who Scout also doesn’t want to make angry, and the grass cutouts are potentially part of the base camouflage. But that disco ball? That belongs to Scout, he just doesn't want anyone to know he’s real into that. [The team would not judge, but his brothers would, so.]

Man when he gets his heart broken, I hope he finds the right girl for him. He deserves better than Pauling always making excuses to turn him down instead of telling him like it is.

Foreshadowing Solly being romantical towards Zhanna. Look at this content man.

Spy holding his knife like this. There’s no reason for it to be a threat, so he’s just genuinely in the habit of doing this while listening. Or while nervous, which also makes sense.

[idiopath-fic-smile]

this one goes out to all my Singin' in the Rain ot3 truthers—

Cosmo Brown had always known it would end like this.

Cosmo was a lot of things—in fact, you could argue he was too many—but he wasn’t dumb.

From the early years, when Cosmo and Don were just kids playing for pennies in pool halls, to their stint dodging rotten vegetables on Vaudeville stages across the very backwaters of America’s backwaters, to their first real breath of success in Hollywood (and then the second and the third and the fourth), Cosmo would catch a glimpse of his handsome, charismatic friend from the corner of his eye—a flash of dark hair, that perfect tooth powder ad smile—and know that for all Don’s protestations, someday the guy was gonna meet a wonderful girl and get married, settle down, and very gently slip off to the far edge of Cosmo’s life.

So yes, Cosmo had seen Kathy Selden coming. Not the details, not her sense of humor or her musical little laugh or the madcap way she really threw herself into dancing with them around Don’s place at 1:30 in the morning—and okay, certainly not the part at the beginning where she had jumped out of a cake at a party, but he thought a fella could be excused for not correctly divining that. 

The general outline of the thing, though, how Don’s eyes followed her around a room...he had been preparing for Don to propose to Kathy ever since she’d tried to throw a pie at Don’s face. And when the happy day came, Cosmo had been ready with his best man suit, his best man speech, a slightly updated version of “Here Comes the Bride” that’d had Don and Kathy laughing all the way down the aisle.

Don and Kathy would buy a house together. They would have a swimming pool and a dog and then inevitably, a small parade of adorable little snot-nosed kids who would call him Uncle Cosmo, and they would spend less and less time with him, not on purpose but busy with the rest of their lives, and ultimately Cosmo would learn to make his peace with it because he’d have no other choice and he would have to try to move on and not live too much in his memories. He could picture it so clearly, he figured if the songwriting gig with Monumental didn’t pan out, he could always return to the backwater circuit with a new act: The Amazing Cosmo of the Cosmos—ladies and gentlemen, he sees the future, he reads the stars, he silently pines for his best married pal and all the while tap dancing!

Don and Kathy inviting him along on their honeymoon, though—that part was a surprise.

“What?” said Cosmo, hands frozen over the piano keys. He’d been busy with a brand-new assignment; on the heels of The Dancing Cavalier, offers were pouring in and he’d taken the first one scoring a movie that didn’t star anyone he was secretly in love with.

Don had looked a little wounded when Cosmo broke the news last week, but a guy had to start making his own way in the world. Besides, orchestrating layers of strings to swell as the camera zoomed in on Don and Kathy blissfully locking lips in radiant monochrome, oblivious to the rest of the world—well, Cosmo knew that dance, he had mastered the footwork, and he didn’t especially feel like a reprise.

It wasn’t lost on him that Kathy had dropped by his rehearsal space alone today. Of course, he had no idea what this meant—he didn’t think it was about the new job; Don didn’t tend to stay sore at him for that long—but Kathy was acting perfectly natural, and so probably the smart thing was to follow her lead.

“It’s a two-week transatlantic cruise,” she said now, gracefully dropping beside him on the piano bench. “We thought it would be nice to see Europe, take in the sights, get away from all the cameras.”

“Ah yes, such a wallflower, our dear Don,” said Cosmo solemnly. “Besieged on all sides by the love of his public, a tragedy of our times, up there with Lear! Hamlet! Caesar! The one with all the Greeks and the giant wooden horse, nay, nay, neigh.” He played a tragic little trill, for effect. Kathy huffed a laugh and smacked his arm.

“You know that’s not it,” she said. “Being watched all the time—we can’t always do what we want. It’s rotten.”

Tell me about it, thought Cosmo.

He was sort of seeing a fight choreographer named Archibald, who came from old money and was a “the third” or a “the fifth” but nice enough Cosmo might even forgive him for that. Archibald was trim and athletic, with dark brown hair that was just starting to go gray at the temples and enough discretion that Cosmo didn’t think they’d get caught. The only problem was that he didn’t laugh at Cosmo’s jokes, seemed to just tolerate them.

“What do you two even talk about, then?” Don had asked, when Cosmo had let this slip over drinks the same night he’d explained about the new movie project. (Cosmo had been trying to spend less time with Don and Kathy since the wedding but Don had said, “C’mon, pal, we miss you” and Kathy had laid one hand on his arm and peered up at him with her big green eyes and Cosmo was only one man.)

Cosmo had frowned, because Don hated Archibald, for reasons that were frankly mysterious. Then he’d looked up and grinned a grin he didn’t exactly feel and said,

“Tell you when you’re older,” and then Don had choked on his dry Martini even though Cosmo knew Don knew about Cosmo’s tendencies. It wasn’t something they discussed, and Cosmo had never properly gone with a guy before, but whenever a big-shot producer started complaining about all the degenerate queers in showbiz, Don always sharply steered the conversation someplace else. It was all very gallant and noble and knightly, and someday Don would play King Arthur and Kathy his lady Guinevere—

“Honestly, sometimes it feels as if we’re living in a fishbowl,” said Kathy now, in the present.

“And so your solution is to relocate,” said Cosmo, “to the biggest fishbowl on this here magnificent earth. The mighty ocean!” He struck up a sea shanty. “Oh blow the man down, blow the man down / way ay, blow the man down…”

Not everyone appreciated his musical flights of fancy, but when Cosmo turned, she was leaning with her elbow on the side arm of the piano, watching him with her chin on her hand and laughing. 

“Just for two weeks,” she said. “So, are you coming?”

“With you two,” said Cosmo, just so there could be no misunderstandings. “On your one and only honeymoon.”

“Yes,” said Kathy.

“As what, your first mate?”

“Sure.” She grinned and threw him a quick salute. Cosmo was almost never attracted to women but in this case, he understood the appeal.

He swallowed. “You are aware of that ancient saying, ‘Two’s company and three’s a fast track to divorce court’?”

“You’re hardly a threat to our marriage, Cosmo,” she said, and he agreed, of course, in both directions, even, but it still stung to hear her say it out loud. For want of anything better to do, he gasped, clutched a hand to his chest and reeled backwards so hard, he threw himself off the piano bench, landing in a somersault on the floor.

Kathy spun around fluidly on the bench to face him, pleated skirt whirling a little, heels of her shoes clicking together. 

“Oh, I said that badly,” she said. “I only mean that it’s more fun when you’re around. We have a better time, Don and me both. Remember the night we decided to make Dueling Cavalier a musical?”

“Do I remember the best night of my life?” Cosmo peered up at her from the hardwood. “Why yes, madam, now that you mention it, I believe it might ring a bell or two.”

“The best—” She frowned for a moment, and he remembered then that as a newly married woman, a newly married woman to Don Lockwood, no less, she’d no doubt experienced any number of evenings that blew that one out of the water.

Even besides that, it felt awfully revealing all of a sudden. Cosmo threw an arm over his eyes. He felt naked. He wished he was naked, because that might at least distract from whatever his face was doing.

“So it beats your time with Archibald, then?” said Kathy shrewdly.

Cosmo uncovered his eyes. He forgot, sometimes, that new as Kathy was to the moving pictures business, she was still a city girl, with a city girl’s worldliness. Also, Don had probably told her; that seemed like the kind of second-hand secrets married people shared with each other. He wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

“Hardly a topic for mixed company,” he said.

There was a pause.

“So yes,” she said and smiled with a smugness that would’ve been unbecoming were she not as cute as a button.

“What do you and Don have against the poor man anyway?” he groused. “He’s never done so much as sneezed in your direction, and if he did, I’m sure he’d use a handkerchief.”

“For one thing, we know you could do better,” said Kathy, folding her arms.

Cosmo elbowed his way back to sitting, brushing himself off with dignity. “Well, better’s not exactly knocking on my door right now.”

“This town doesn’t have an ounce of sense.” She reached down to offer him a hand up, pulling Cosmo to his feet; she was stronger than she looked. “Listen, two weeks away, it’ll be good for you.”

“What about you two?” Cosmo protested as he reclaimed his spot on the bench, Kathy sliding to make room.

“What about us?” said Kathy with wide eyes.

“Two newlyweds might want some alone time?” he offered weakly.

Kathy shrugged. “I told you, there won’t be reporters or cameras. It’ll be plenty private.”

“What about your matrimonial needs?”

“Which needs?”

His eyes narrowed; she was a terrific actress but suddenly he wasn’t sure he was buying it. Kathy wasn’t dumb either.

“You have to know what I mean. Don’t make me play Cole Porter at you,” said Cosmo. She hesitated, and Cosmo began to pluck out a melody: “Birds do it, bees do it / even educated fleas do it…” He wiggled his eyebrows.

“Let’s do it,” sang Kathy, finishing the stanza in her lovely alto, “let’s fall in love.”

Cosmo stopped playing.

“I do know,” she said simply, “of course I do, and we’re not worried about it, alright? Listen, do you want to go?”

Cosmo, who had been carefully not asking himself that question, stared down at the piano keys. Did he want to go? He thought back to that night at Don’s, the three of them giddy with excitement and inspiration and sleep deprivation, running through the house, clowning around and dancing with no audience except each other—he hadn’t felt like a hanger-on then, like a third wheel or an extra limb or a chaperone. He’d felt like he was exactly where he was supposed to be, one note of a perfect chord.

Still.

“I can’t swim,” he said.

“They’ll have lifejackets,” said Kathy.

“I’ll have to work.”

“We’ll bring a piano.”

“All my houseplants will die,” said Cosmo.

“All your houseplants are fake,” she said. This was true, although he wasn’t sure how she knew since she’d never been to his house. She sighed. “Remember the night of that first screening, when you were about to expose Lina and instead of explaining what was happening, Don told me I had to sing, that I didn’t have a choice?”

He winced, thinking of Kathy’s heartbroken, tear-stained face before they’d pulled up the curtain and revealed who was really singing when Lina moved her lips.

“Yes, and I feel just awful about it.”

“Well, Don doesn’t,” said Kathy. “Because he knew it would take too long to convince me to do something that mean to her.”

“Mean?” Cosmo echoed. “She tried to trap you in a lifelong contract and steal your voice. A common sea witch wouldn’t stoop so low.”

“But there wasn’t time,” she pressed. “And anyway, he knew how it would end.”

“What’s your point?”

“We already bought your tickets,” said Kathy.

Cosmo gaped at her.

“We’ve cleared the trip with everyone at Monumental and anyway, like I said, we’ll have a piano on the boat.”

Distantly, he was aware his mouth was still hanging open. Kathy reached over with one light finger under his chin and gently closed it. 

“That’s better,” she said, folding her hands daintily in her lap. It was around this time she seemed to realize it wasn’t some routine, that Cosmo really was well and truly stunned. “Of course, nobody is going to force you to go with us if you truly don’t want to,” she said into the silence.

“These tickets,” he said at last, “are they refundable?”

“Gosh,” said Kathy easily, “I can’t imagine they are, no.”

The thing was, none of them were hurting for money or work anymore, so the fact that Don and Kathy might be out even a few hundred dollars didn’t catch at him the way it might’ve some years earlier. No, the thought that really seized his imagination was the mental image of Don and Kathy planning this together, Don and Kathy discussing the matter with each other, maybe over breakfast—toast and coffee in their dressing gowns, so sure it was the right thing to do that they’d decided to just go ahead and make preparations: oh and a ticket for Cosmo, of course.

He could do it, he realized. He could go. He wanted to go. It was foolish, but Cosmo was an entertainer; he’d been doing foolish things in front of a roomful of witnesses since he was in shortpants.

“I’ll pack tonight,��� he said.

“Perfect!” Kathy hopped off the bench and straightened out her dress. “And bring something nice to wear at dinner for a night or two; it doesn’t need to be black-tie formal, a good suit will do.”

He nodded. “I shall leave the top hat and monocle at home. Two weeks, you say?”

“Yes, and another half-day on either side flying to the harbor and back.” She reached into her coat pocket, and pulled out a folded sheet of paper. “The itinerary,” she said. “Don and I are so glad you’ll be coming.”

“Uh-huh,” said Cosmo. “Say, where is that fella, anyway? What’s the big idea, can’t even stick around to ask his best pal to his own honeymoon?”

“He’s planning the trip,” said Kathy brightly. “Last-minute details. Anyway, he thought you and I should have a chat, one on one. He thought it might help.”

He blinked. “Help what?”

“Help us,” she said.

It was all starting to feel like a farce, like one of those old Vaudeville acts with a lot of fast talking.

“Did it?” he asked.

“I think so,” said Kathy warmly. She turned and began to walk towards the door. “See you at the airport tomorrow. Six AM sharp.”

“Six AM,” he said, and then, foolishly, “You know, I can see why he likes you.”

Kathy dimpled. “Oh, likewise!” She tossed him another smile and then she was heading out of sight down the hallway, shoes clacking rhythmically on the tile.

“Well,” said Cosmo to no one. He felt pole-axed, he decided. He wasn’t sure he had ever felt pole-axed in his life before, but there was no other word for it.

He played a chord, then another chord, then a few more.

“Pole-axed,” he sang, “out of whack, when you are near there’s only one drawback: I can’t be clever, no I lack the knack, Darling, I’m pole-axed, out of whack around you!”

It wasn’t exactly Cole Porter, but he’d take it, he thought, reaching for his pen. There was still an hour or two left before he’d need to race traffic home and dig out his suitcase. Apparently, he had early morning plans.

(ETA: if you didn't see, there is now a second part here!)

(ETA THE SECOND: the whole finished thing is now here!

[coolcoolcoolbutwtf]

Fentons family's guide Section on being an evil assistant to a supervillain

_________________________________________

Fentons family's guide to being an evil assistant to a supervillain

Guide by Jazmin Fenton in case of employment with a supervillain.

Being an evil assistant or henchmen is surprisingly a very stable source of an income stream all things considered.

You just need to find a boss. A as in singular it's very important, who is pathetic and or stupid enough to constantly have their large scale plan failing even without the hero's Involvement.

And while their large scale plan for taking over the world with a weapon of mass destruction could be feasible if only they didn't think to actually use it. Using it to threaten the world leaders for sway is the correct way. It is the most unused method the one being used most is the method of actually using the weapon of mass destruction for mass destruction.

You as the evil assistant then have the responsibility to make sure that the villain doesn't/ can't use said device to destroy the world. The heroes can help. Later then take the blame for the failure absolving you of involvement.

Being a good evil assistant is babysitting the evil boss.

_________________________________pg 9___

"Oh man never thought I'd actually need to use the 'Fenton guide' Jazz made me." Danny mumbled quietly and heaved a sigh of relief when he had found it among his hastily packed together bag.

Jazz had been the one making both of their emergency bags when she had told him about the guide. He hadn't appreciated it then now he truly did now with everything going on.

God he missed Jazz so much. He wanted to see her so badly he wanted to hold her hand like when they were kids. He really wanted her hand to squeeze his back in reassurance that everything was going to be fine.

Danny tried holding back his sobs at the thought. He couldn't stop the mist in his eyes or his hands shaking holding the little booklet.

But he wanted her safe and far away from everything even more. He wanted his friends to be safe with his sister. It didn't matter if he had to be far away working getting those crystals every way he could think of. His friends and sister needed money to keep them safe, hidden and taken care of. They needed that money and crystals and if Danny had to choose between his morals and fright he would always choose his true family. Morals be damned.

• • •

He hadn't expected the costume to be so good in quality. That had surprised him the most the second being how easy it would be getting a job with villains. Turns out working as an "meta" henchmen who knew everything from fighting to logistics and machinery was a rarity in this dimension. Who would have guessed it with all the metas and enhanced humans going about? And omg they even have aliens in this dimension!

Getting the money for the crystals had been going surprisingly smoothly. Everything had been going so smoothly that of course it had to be ruined! The villain Danny was working for had gotten noticed and promptly got beat. Which meant he didn't have an employer anymore at least until a breakout was orchestrated. So no more job until then.

And Danny had finally managed his way to the middle hierarchy in that organization! Now he would need to go looking for evil henchmen positions again! It wasn't even a good season to go looking for openings in other organizations.

Damn it that bat furry in Gotham and his flock of birds. Don't they get how hard it is for a henchmen to find descant work!?

Maybe he should go with the duo villain and assistant type next time.

Thank you so much for reading I hope it was enjoyed!

Danny in the lair after having saved his villain boss from Batman after said villain had their scheme blown up in their face. Danny knew the plan would fail miserably but at this point he didn't care. He stopped trying to help when it came to schemes ages ago.

+Some art

Idk if I've posted this idea before but I've had this thing bouncing around in my head for a while.

[hannieehaee]

18 + / mdi

content: idol!hoshi x idol!reader, fluff, pining, smut, afab reader, penetrative sex, oral (both f and m receiving), face riding, sub!hoshi etc.

wc: 3k

a/n: this is is a continuation to this!!

masterlist

you'd known hoshi ever since seventeen's debut. you'd been there. well, maybe not there but you had had the opportunity to mc along with some other idol friend of yours during one of seventeen's first comeback shows. you had only debuted a couple years back, making you their senior but also their equal, being the same age as some members of the group.

like with most other groups, you hadnt had much of an opportunity to speak to them, considering how fast paced these shows tended to be. but you remembered them well, sharing with your own members how talented you thought the rookies had been despite this being their very first year in the game. unfortunately, not much interaction between you happened for a while after that first encounter.

as the years passed, your own group grew. with the boom of kpop in the west you found yourselves at a global level, along with many of your fellow kpop groups. you still remembered the excitement you felt upon debuting, feeling like you were reliving the experience as you entered the hybe building for the first time.

like many groups after the year of 2020, your group's label had been acquired by hybe ent., arguably one of the biggest entertainment companies in korea at the moment. the concept of joining a new company with many of the idols you'd learned to call friends over the years elated you, enjoying the change of environment and the opportunity to meet other people who shared a career and a passion with you. this was also how you came to meet hoshi once more.

~

through the years, it wasnt hard for you to tell that the man well known as hoshi had a bit of a thing for you. not only was he not very discreet about it whenever you crossed paths, but he had also even mentioned you by name once at a variety show, listing you as his bias in your group and even as his celebrity crush. it seemed to be a slip of the tongue, but unfortunately for hoshi it had been caught on camera and eventually aired.

you should've known upon your first meeting, really. the boy had blushed profusely when you'd directed yourself at him, bowing politely. you had assumed he was just shy, but you'd come to learn that the boy was anything but timid.

for the next two years or so, you'd found yourself bumping into him frequently around the building. what you had first believed to be accidents proved to be calculated meetings orchestrated by the man. nothing would ever happen. he'd sheepishly interact with you, always making you coo at his uncharacteristically shy disposition towards you. you came to love bumping into the man, being fully aware of the effect you had on him. your group mates would giggle behind his back, calling him whipped. even his own group mates would give you intel on how astronomically down bad he was for you, begging you to put him out of his misery. so you did.

this had been one of your first times approaching him first. he'd usually hang around outside your practice room after hours in order to catch you and take the elevator with you on his way out. he'd never say much, but his giddiness would radiate out of him at your mere proximity. other instances would be when hoshi would approach you for group promotions, insisting you to let him teach you the choreo to his group's latest song for a quick tiktok challenge. at this point any public group interaction between your two groups was always you and hoshi, with the occasional inclusion of another member. hoshi also had the tendency to walk by your practice room at the usual time you took your breaks in order to say a quick hello to you. it was all very endearing, really. it didnt take too long for him to wear you down, his cuteness making your resolve break. so today you decided to seek him out for yourself.

you marched into his practice room in the middle of the day, walking straight towards him. he stopped his movements and stared at you blankly, almost as if in a trance. a few other members were there, but you didnt pay them much mind, having all your focus on hoshi. you came up with a quick excuse. some reason to get him alone after hours. you'd decided you wanted him. the thought of someone as handsome and nice as soonyoung having held a candle for you for so many years did things to you. embarrassing things. so you asked him for help. made up a story about how you wanted to do a dance cover of spider for your fans, thinking that it was such an intricate choreo that you could not do justice unless the original dancer gave you pointers. hoshi, in typical hoshi fashion, excitedly accepted without a second thought, agreeing immediately when you told him you'd let him ride home with you after work today in order to keep things under wraps.

the ride was mostly quiet, sans occasional comments thrown back and forth. hoshi would occasionally make a little comment about how happy he was you'd chosen spider, about how much he's always admired you as an idol. you were incredibly touched, knowing the boy to be among the most dedicated idols in the game. you paid your compliments back, rendering him a blushing mess. he was killing you. you felt kind of bad for wanting to jump him. but his crush had been making you crazy for weeks. you'd known he wanted you. any short time you'd spend together while he guided you through those short tiktok challenges you'd catch him looking at you in ways that made your body heat up. all those elevator rides in which he'd keep his eyes at bay if you had any bit of skin exposed. those times he'd been caught on camera at award shows, watching you on stage with a moony look in his eyes. he wanted you, you were sure. and you wanted him just as bad.

~

you hadnt really thought this through. you knew how to get him alone, but you had not planned much past that. in your head, you had wanted to jump him immediately upon arriving into your home. except he seemed so excited to share his passion with you, you could not stop him when he insisted you take him to the practice room located in your home. so now you were here. drenched in sweat and still going over the first verse of spider for the fourth time now. although you loved dancing, and you loved watching hoshi in his element, you needed some type of plan to get to him. you knew hoshi was beginning to feel affected by both the physical exertion and your out of breath state, but you knew he would never make the first move. he was too sweet and respectful, on top of the fact that only two of his braincells worked when he was around you.

"soonyoung ... can you help me with this? i cant get it right ..." okay maybe this was a cheap attempt, but it would at least get him in close proximity to you.

"uh, i .. yeah. let me see," good. he was now approaching you, standing behind you as you both faced the mirror, looking at you through the mirror in order to examine your posture.

"oh, yeah. your leg needs to be a little higher, and uh, your arms are positioned a bit wrong. can i ..?", he extended his hands out as if to help you, but retracted them a bit before asking for permission.

"yeah, soonie. go for it," you threw him a sweet smile through the mirror.

he gulped, but still placed his hands on your arms, attempting to lower them, except thats as far as he would go. you'd trapped him.

you quickly got a hold of his arms, lowering them a bit, bringing them down enough to hover closely over your frame.

"what .. what are you doing?", the boy gulped, although still leaving his body pliant to allow you to move his arms as you pleased.

you turned around while also keeping his arms at a close proximity, now facing him.

"soonie ... i think there's something else you could help me with .. yeah?", you used your best sultry voice, now walking yourself backwards to press your back against the mirrored wall, dragging him with you by the hand. the end result was soonyoung unknowingly hovering over you, arms leaning against the wall on both sides of your head.

"you ... what's happening?", he chuckled nervously, breath becoming heavier as he tried to ignore the eyes you were giving him.

"soonie, please ... you said you'd help me, didnt you? need your help so bad ... need you so bad," at this point you were being too obvious, maybe even a little mean. you had leaned up to whisper against his ear, loving the shudder he had given you in return.

"y-yes. ill help you, ill ... ill do anything. please ..."

"yeah?", you now whispered against his lips, nodding to yourself as if to confirm.

he nodded back, whispering a whiny 'yes' as your breaths began to meld together, mouths now one inch away from one another. soonyoung looked fucked out already, eyebrows furrowed and eyes lidded.

you finally closed the gap, making sure to moan against his lips in order to get a reaction out of him, which was almost instant. soonyoung immediately whined against your lips, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing you against him as close as humanly possible.

you kissed like this for a while, allowing the kiss to evolve into a mess of tongues and languid sounds filling up the room, spider still playing faintly on a loop in the background.

soonyoung finally pulled away, fully out of breath, "fuck. ive wanted you forever. liked you since i was a trainee, you have no idea ... jesus you're so pretty. what do you want? ill give you anything. ill take anything, just. please ..." he rambled as you moved to kiss and suck at his neck, moving up to lightly lick and nibble at his ear while you responded to him in a whisper.

"anything, soonie?"

"y-yes."

"fuck my mouth? hmm, soonie?"

he physically shuddered at this, eyes rolling back as if you already had him in your mouth, knees visibly buckling.

"please, yes yes. fuck."

you tortured him a bit more, licking and kissing at the most sensitive spots of his neck and ears while sneaking your hand into his sweats, caressing his dick at an agonizingly slow pace. you kept at it for a few minutes, feeding off of his whines and mewls of pleasure. you grew frustrated quickly, however, wanting nothing more than to feel the weight of his cock against your tongue. you got on your knees, quickly unfastening his sweats and working his cock out of his boxers. you began by kitten licking his tip, eventually moving onto licking at the protruding veins. soonyoung's breaths of pleasure were quickly breaking your resolve, making your desire to ruin the pretty boy take over you.

"b-baby ... please, fuck," he begged for you to finally envelop him in your mouth, throwing his head back against the mirror and fidgeting at the pleasure of your mere licking was giving him.

you finally took pity on him, beginning to bob your head as deep as you could, causing his whines to increase in volume.

"o-oh, fuck. your mouth ... shit, so pretty. thank you. thank you ... thought ab- ah! about this every night ..."

"yeah? tell me what you thought about, baby," you unglued your mouth from his length for a few seconds to catch your breath and to incite him, getting off at his want for you.

"y-you. everything about you. so fucking pretty ... the way you move, fuck. your body and- shit! you're so sweet ..."

"im sweet, soonie? yeah? want me to show you how sweet?", you mumbled against him, taking a quick break to lick and suck at his tip, making him lightheaded.

"i ... you, shit, baby. gonna cum. where? please ..."

"my mouth? wanna fill my mouth soonie? wanna taste how sweet you are.."

with that, he came with a shout, yelling out your name as he unknowingly pressed your head closer to his cervix, grinding slightly against your mouth as he rode his high.

you stood up before he could catch his breath, pulling his head towards yours and sticking your tongue in his mouth, making him moan at the mixture of your taste with that of his cum. his hands finally became a little braver, feeling you up as you devoured each other.

you pulled away first, speaking against his mouth once more, "let me take you to my room?", to which he responded with an overexcited nod, allowing you to drag him by the hand.

upon arriving to your room, you didnt last much on your feet, immediately jumping him and dragging him over to your bed, pushing him onto it as you straddled him.

"baby ... want you so fucking bad. can i have you?", you kept asking him questions, instigating him to tell you how badly be wanted you.

"yes! fuck. you can do whatever you want. ill give you anything you want, please. wanna feel you so bad ..."

his words were feeding your ego in ways nothing else ever had.

you got up for a second, creating distance between you to give him a little show as you undressed yourself.

"you're so beautiful, fuck. always thought about this. you're gorgeous. can i touch you? please?", the endless praise wouldnt stop leaving his lips, rendering you weaker the more he spoke.

you sat on him once more, guiding his arms to your tits, showing him how you wanted to be touched. he moaned immediately at the feeling of your breast against his palms, eyes hooded as he made eye contact with your breasts.

"wanna kiss them, soonie? kiss them for me, baby. please?"

he nodded excitedly at this, lowing his mouth and softly licking and pecking at your breasts. he soon grew overexcited and began to increase the intensity of his touches, his arms now squeezing at your hips and ass while he moaned wantonly against your breasts.

"sit on my face, baby. please. wanna taste you. bet it tastes so sweet," he begged against your tit.

it didnt take much convincing for you to wiggle your way to his mouth, pressing your pussy against his face as he moaned at the pressure.

he was animalistic with the way he ate you out, as if he'd waited for this moment his whole life he had. at some point you began to grind against his tongue desperately, him guiding your movements with his strong arms. his moans and groans were what led you to find your end, digging your fingers in his hair and screaming out his name as you arched your back.

you gave him no time to catch his breath or recover, as you repositioned yourself in order to, once again, make out with him. he moaned at the way you licked and sucked at his tongue, tasting your essence in his tongue.

"soonie, need you to fuck me. will you do that for me? been wanting you so bad."

"me? you wanted me? yes. i'll- yes. please."

he was the cutest thing, making you want to ruin him for anyone else. but that would come later. right now you needed to be impaled by his dick. the one which had already bruised the back of your throat. having felt the length of his cock drag up and down your throat had you salivating at how well he'd fill you up. lacking any more patience, you quickly reached for a condom from your bedside table and slipped it in before taking your rightful seat on his cock.

you both let out shuddered breaths at the pleasure, you moaning at how much he stretched you out, and he at how snuggly your pussy wrapped around him.

this was one of hoshi's dreams come true. he had waited to make a move one day, never knowing you'd finally look his way and quite literally jump him, but he wasnt complaining. knowing how bad he wanted you had worn you down over time, making you want the sweet and pretty boy just as bad.

you'd found him adorable before, but now you knew better. the way he bounced you up and down his cock, filling your neck and chest with love bites as he growled against you, muttering how 'fucking tight' you were, and how 'he'd never let go of this pussy now that he had it.' the stark contrast between a pussy drunk soonyoung and the one currently fucking you made you dizzy. you knew it wouldnt be long til your orgasm took over.

"need you to cum. please? need to feel this pussy tighten around me. can you cum, baby? for me?", he'd moaned against your mouth, having begun to lick at it once he was satisfied with all the love bites he'd left on your chest.

you didn't need much convincing. none at all for that matter, as you quickly felt your orgasm attack you from all angles. you pressed your face against his neck and cried out his name, scratching his back as you felt the most powerful orgasm of your life take over you.

hoshi followed soon after, moaning your name as he threw his head back at the pleasure, whispering a mantra of 'thank you thank you thank you thank you' at the unimaginable pleasure.

you two leaned limply against each other for a few seconds, too overexerted to even think. hoshi spoke up first.

"do you- do you still need help with the choreo?"

a/n: not proofread </3

[nebbyy]

Please write a fanfic about King Baldwin IV from KoH, where he fell in love with female reader. The plot is up to you. Please make it a serious love story with slight fluff 🤗🤭

Baldwin IV x reader - Life always comes down to a game of chess

A/N: You have no idea how much I love you anon, this was one of the prompts I already wanted to write omgggg!! For this fic I kinda got inspired by this painting (which, for everyone interested, it’s “La belle dame sans merci” by Frank Dicksee), and you’ll see how and why reading it;)

Summary: King Baldwin IV receives an offer from an Italian nobleman to marry his daughter; unsure of whether to accept or not this compelling offer, Baldwin decides to do what he does best…

Warning: there are some mentions of christianity and religious references along with some hints at the misogynistic ideologies of the time (about the woman being “owned” by the dominant male figure in her life) ((I don’t condone this ideology at all but I thought it’d be fitting to add it anyway to give some accuracy to it)).

Word count: 2637

King Baldwin couldn’t quite wrap his head around you. The day that he was informed of your engagement, he felt himself quite skeptical of the idea of marrying someone. After all, ever since his leprosy had been diagnosed he had to get used to the idea of living a life of solitude, forced into a lifelong chastity, for no sane man would ever marry off their daughter to a leper. With time, he had found solace in nurturing his own knowledge and virtue, elevating himself to a level of wisdom that very few could boast at his young age.

During the following days, the young king's mind was plagued with thoughts, considerations he was making to weigh the choice. The benefits of marrying Lady Y/N were many, first and foremost securing a connection to the land of Italian speakers, allowing for easier trafficking of crusaders arriving in the Holy Land, not to mention the abundance that would be the young lady's dowry. And not only did marrying her mean strengthening the economical side of his reign, but it also meant giving the impression to the public that the king's health condition was improving to such an extent that he considered that to be an ideal time to marry. His most trusted men and all of his advisors kept repeating to him, marrying Lady Y/N would’ve been  comparable to a blessing.

But despite all the benefits this union seemed like it would bring, Baldwin continued to hesitate to make a decision. What left him so undecided was the possibility that this was some kind of deception, a conspiracy orchestrated against him, hidden in the form of the most convenient of marriages. It was up to him to decide whether it was worth taking these risks in favor of the benefits that would come if his concerns turned out to be unfounded. 

Like everything else in his life, this choice came down to a game of chess…

It was this idea that prompted him to make a decision. Baldwin had a messenger called, to be sent to Pisa to give the news to Lord Y/F/N that the king wished to report his decision to him live, at his court. For the lord to arrive it would have to wait, but Baldwin has always been a man of exceptional patience.

Four months passed, when at the dawn of Lent it was announced by a Pisan messenger that Lord Y/F/N and his daughter had come to Acre, and would soon be coming to Jerusalem. Another week passed before father and daughter, riding two white horses and accompanied by an escort of knights arrived at the royal palace.

When he first saw you, Baldwin could have sworn he saw Mary himself. You walked with such grace that you almost seemed to float. Your face looked serene, despite the anxiety that had been devouring you from within ever since the day the invitation from the king of Jerusalem reached you; a blue veil covered your hair, framing your face and falling over your shoulders. You bowed to Baldwin as was proper to do before a king, yet he felt so tempted to interrupt you, prevent you from bowing to him, perhaps even bowing to you himself.

At that moment he felt like Lancelot before Guinevere, completely mesmerized by your beauty, one who seemed more fit to an angel than a woman. But, he gave no sign of his true emotional state; after all, a gorgeous woman does not mean she can be fit to serve as queen. Her answer will be decided when she has had a chance to hear you speak, away from the judgmental stares of the court, free from any influence that might change what you really think.

As the sun shone bright in the sky, the banquet took place inside of the palace. The king excused himself before going to eat by himself in his chambers as usual, leaving his guests in the company of his sisters and his court. Loud chatter filled the room, goblets were raised to get more wine poured, courses flowed onto the set table, a tribute to thank Lord Y/F/N for making such a journey to fulfill the king's request. All this noise, yet in your ears all became quiet when a servant approached your chair, whispering a few simple words, "The king has requested your presence at dinner."

Your blood froze in your veins in surprise, and you could almost feel your father's thrill as you rose from your seat, having the servant guide you toward the king's study. Walking through the halls of the palace, you could do nothing but feel so small in comparison, you almost seemed to disappear, enveloped by the magnificence of everything around you that, if all went well, you would have called your own.

You were brought back to reality when the heavy doors of the king's room were opened by the two guards who stood at his sides. An enveloping fragrance, a mixture of myrrh and frankincense filled your senses with a feeling of serenity, an almost familiar feeling. In the center of the room, a hooded figure, dressed in silk as white as snow. "Come forward, my lady. I apologize for my absence at the table but," she interjected for a moment, rising from her seat and revealing her face-or at least, what was not covered by the veil-"many might find my appearance somewhat...disturbing during a meal." He chuckled a little at that last part. You wondered if irony had become a kind of means for him to soften his own hellish condition. 

As soon as he turned around you could not help but study the appearance of what will hopefully be your future husband. Rumors about his condition had been swirling since the day he was crowned, so you had been prepared to be confronted with a horrifically disfigured man. Instead, although part of his face was covered by the thin veil, it was like an instinct for you to try to study his features. You could vaguely make out the golden hair that adorned his face, although it was covered by the veil. His voice had intrigued you; it sounded so jovial and yet so deep. A melody that sang of the young monarch's endeavors. It intrigued you, you wondered what his lips looked like, whether they matched the sound of his voice.

But what really caught your interest were his eyes. They were blue, but of a color so deep, so intense, it reminded you of tales you had heard about the northern seas, of the waters that dark and deep seemed to beckon sailors, to lead them to drown within them. Likewise you felt mesmerized by such intensity. And you wondered, how much of this would remain the same as his illness progressed.

You recovered from that momentary trance, wasting no time to bow, but this time Baldwin stopped you before you were able to bow more than your head: "Don't bow, please. Such reverences are not necessary here." You looked at him a little dumbfounded, but despite the king's unusual attitude you did not object. He stepped to the side, revealing a finely decorated chessboard, with all the pawns already set in place. "Do you play?" he asked softly, and you finally mustered up the courage to speak "It's been some time since I last did," as you approached the table, taking your seat opposite Baldwin. He took his seat again, and for the first time in your life you found yourself face to face with a king. 

You quickly realised that he had assigned you the white pawns, the small courtesy of moving you first. You took a moment to think of an initial strategy, and moved your first pawn. A horse. Baldwin raised his eyebrows, surprised by your decision. "Aren't you going to move the pawns first?" You kept your gaze on the chessboard, partly out of respect and partly out of fear, still unsure why the king would call you to his chambers, if indeed it was all just to have a playmate. "I always prefer to start with the horse. I like to think that the pawns would be frightened to charge against the enemy without a knight to guide them." You looked up, meeting his eyes that studied you intrigued. Chuckling at what you had just said, you continued, shaking your head slightly, "Forgive me, it was just a silly thought."

"Not at all, my lady," he replied, studying your every detail, "I find it fascinating." It was his turn to move, and as per rule, he moved one of the pawns, the one in front of the queen. "So you think good leadership is better than letting the individual decide for himself?" There was a spark that had lit up in his eyes, something playful. It was clear that you were intriguing him, surprisingly in your eyes, since you had been instructed to stay behind your father's shadow, not to express your thoughts or externalize your ideologies.

Everything had to be perfect, one could not risk the futile mind of a young woman ruining the marriage that would have been so beneficial to her dukedom, but above all to her family. Yet at that moment she felt that expressing what resided in her own mind was exactly what Baldwin wanted from her. Something lit up in her too, and he in turn caught the same spark in her eyes. Could it be that she had figured out the trick...? 

Another pawn moved, it was Baldwin's turn to move again. Your eyes seldom parted from each other, just for that moment necessary to make your own move. "Independence is not always what benefits a man. Certainly, it is tempting, but in moments of indecision it risks leading to oblivion. An infantryman needs a leader, a young man who is lost in the woods needs a hunter to guide him out..." Another move, the white bishop points directly at the black king "...an indecisive man needs an outside opinion to make his decision."

You smiled, and like the sweetest of plagues you infected him too. You had deciphered his little deception. An innocent deception, with the purpose of seeing with your own eyes how you, in a condition so similar to what is the duty of a sovereign, would have acted. 

After all, his life always came down to a game of chess....

"So you understood..." Baldwin whispered, again sitting in his place. For the first time in his memory, someone had managed to leave him speechless. His witty mind seemed to have died out all of a sudden, the knight in him unarmed by the woman sitting in front of him. Maybe the deception wasn’t as occult as he had planned, or maybe this young lady was really able to stand up to him.

You smiled at him proudly, be proud of your intuition but also relieved that your thought had not turned out to be foolish. Your pride had removed from your mind every rule, every admonition that had been given to you from the moment you set foot in the Holy Land; your mind was now like a river in flood, finally free to flow out according to its natural course. "I do not blame you, my lord. I realize that this is a difficult choice for you, and that the factors at stake go far beyond your individual will."

"And what do you think about that?" Your smile acquired a bittersweet scent, and you answered without almost hesitation: "I am only a woman, my will is that of my father and it will be of my husband. My family prays that this role will be filled by you, and for this to happen I have been instructed to be fit to reign at your side."

“That I can clearly see, but what truly urges me is to know what your own will says. If we were to marry, you would be the bride to a wretched man, one whose fate has already been announced by God. My demise won't be far off, you’ll be left a widow in a foreign land. And before this… curse gets the better of me, there is no saying that it won’t get to you too. If it did, you would suffer the same fate I had been given.”

It took you a moment to let his words sink into your mind. He spoke the truth, a future with him would be filled with sickness and uncertainty; you would have to live in a court far from your home, where everyone was waiting for the king’s death like a flock of crows flying above a dying man. You took a deep breath, feeling as everything came down to this very moment. “I won’t lie to you, my lord, the future that awaits me while standing by your side is not an easy one by any means, and I’m very much aware of that. I do not expect my future to be easy, for it would be an excess of greed. So if I can have a saying in my own future, I’d like to say that I would much rather all the time that is given to me by the Lord standing by the side of a man filled with virtue, than by the side of a man too full of himself to see anything just an inch away from his reflection. There would be no greater honor for me than to stand by your side, for as long as you still have to live, my lord. And if I ever was to catch this disease as well, then I would have no other words to say other than God wills it.“

At your words, the young king had to shake himself up, now more than ever necessary for him to say something, anything really. “For you, my lady, I shall always be just Baldwin.” His tone was softer than ever, a soft breeze that reached to you and whispered I am but yours now. It was unsaid, but decided. Once this meeting would be over, the king would come to your father, and confirm his decision to accept the proposal. Only problem was, this meeting seemed to have become endless. What was supposed to be a quick meal, accompanied by a game of chess, turned into a lively exchange of political views, then silly childhood anecdotes, then again into a walk in the inner courtyard of the palace. Baldwin tried hard to keep you in his presence for as long as was deemed decent for an unmarried man and woman. He kept you with him as long as he could, and when that was no longer possible, he led you back into the great hall, gently holding your hand over his. Soon after the announcement of your engagement, the wedding was set to happen during the following Easter, and the banquet made in honor of his guests was prolonged until the sun had been long set, this time in honor of his betrothed.

You think back to that day fondly, as you lay on your bed, in the comfort of silky sheets and soft pillows. One of your hands holds your head while the others traces the patterns of the scars in your husband’s face that have considerably worsened during the years. Aside from the bed, sitting on a table, forgotten as long as the night reigned over Jerusalem, were two crowns, along with two chess pawns. A white queen and a black king. Both came from the set that had been used the day the two of you met, a reminder for Baldwin of the day God had merged your destinies in one.

A/N: wowww that came out longer than I though oopss. ANYWAY, this was my interpretation of your request, anon, hope you like it!! Also, for everyone who’s gonna read this, feel free to leave any constructive criticism since this is my first fic and I would like to improve a looot more in my writing skills. That’s it now have a nice day y’all <3<3

[endless-ineffabilities]

Maroon (part six)

modern!Aemond Targaryen x f!reader

themes/warnings: angst, depiction of trauma/injury, mutual pining, language, avoidant Aemond

word count: 3.9k

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

The Dragonstone ball came and went. Aemond and the reader are no closer to reconciling. Aemond's personal battles threaten to get the best of him, and there is only one person he thinks of turning to.

Aemond had begun to severely dislike his weekends. 

His stomach churns as he lies motionless under the sterile white hospital lights, feeling more like a lab experiment than a person. The surgeon, a man who face Aemond could now recognise in his nightmares, hovers over him again, poking and prodding as if inspecting a faulty machine.

After four months, the process was routine, almost mechanical. Aemond hated every second of it. 

No matter how many times they examined his injuries, one thing remained glaringly clear – he would never be as he once was. The cold, clinical truth he had been avoiding finally settled like a dead weight on his chest. He would never regain sight in his left eye. Ever.

Aemond’s stitches had been removed earlier than expected, the result of the extensive, borderline-experimental treatments his mother had ensured that he underwent. Her desperation to fix him bordered on obsession – nothing but the best surgeons, the most cutting-edge procedures, were made available to her son. ‘Nothing but the best for the Prince of the City’, they would say. And Aemond knew it wasn’t really for his sake. He had to be perfect. He had to be fixed.

A Targaryen heir couldn’t walk around looking all deformed, not in this family, not in this city. Yet no amount of money or prestige could make him whole again. The best the world had to offer still wasn’t enough.

He clenches his jaw, his body completely tense under the surgeon’s touch. The treatment felt less like healing and more like a futile attempt to erase the ugly truth. He felt wronged, betrayed even. He was so used to being in control, or at least, having some semblance of it. It was the only way he could bury the darkness within – the bitterness, the anger. But he has no control left. Now he is the one who bends to everyone’s will.

His mother demanded justice for him. She wanted Luke relieved of his seat at Dragonstone, and inheritance of Driftmark. At the very least, she argued, the boy should be demoted for a time or sent away to learn the error of his ways. Viserys would have none of it. According to him, both Aemond and Lucerys were equally at fault. Just boys being boys. Yet, nine times out of ten in the weeks following the accident, Viserys frequented Lucerys’ hospital suite accompanied by his precious firstborn Rhaenyra. 

Aemond barely saw him. He normally wouldn’t care; he trained himself not to. But nothing was right. He didn’t deserve any of this. Luke would limp for months, and that’s it, but Aemond lost his fucking eye. He felt that childish angst resurging inside him, and he knew he was no longer in control.

He recalls the Dragonstone Ball, the night from a week prior when he’d finally emerged after months of hiding, his public reappearance carefully orchestrated to show that Aemond Targaryen was still here, still powerful, still beautiful. He tried to convince himself that he had come to terms with everything – a plain-faced lie. The crowd, the so-called elite of society, had clamoured at the sight of him. They had been shocked, though not in the way he’d expected. They hadn’t recoiled at his injuries. Some had barely seemed to notice. 

It wasn’t as bad as they thought.

That had been the general statement. Whispers circulating the Valyrian hall, their astonishment turning to confusion. Why had he stayed away for months? Why all the secrecy? He looks fine, he heard them murmur, their eyes barely lingering on the faint scar on the side of his face. 

Some even saw his appearance in a twisted light, and deemed it as an enhancement to his aura. But they didn’t care about him, not really. They saw a carefully curated image, a version of Aemond that fit neatly into the narrative of a rebellious, aristocratic heir who felt the need to challenge his younger nephew into a game of chicken, only to pay for it dearly. Some had even dared to call him The Dark Prince of the City, a new title he loathed. 

What a relief it must be for everyone that he was only a little bit fucked up. How fucking fantastic. To them, his injury was cosmetic, an insignificant blemish on a life still dripping with wealth, status, and power. It doesn’t matter that there is an aching emptiness inside of him, a sense of loss and injustice that stretches far beyond the physical damage. It doesn’t matter that he can barely look at himself in the mirror. It doesn’t matter that he can’t allow himself to be with you.

But it does. It all does. 

He closes his eye, his mind drifting back to the night of the ball, when he last held you in his arms. When he last tasted you. Oh sweet seven hells, the way you melted unto him. The way you felt… 

I can wait, you promised. But how is that fair? Is there even anything left of him for you to keep waiting for?

“It’s almost time for us to have an ocular prosthesis put in,” the surgeon says casually, as if making small talk about the fucking weather. “Your mother has already vetted some top-of-the-line models, I’m sure you’d be pleased – ”

Oh, will he? The best prosthetic eye, was it? Gods, this must be what winning the lottery must be like.

“ – or she also mentioned that we could go about the traditional route? Apparently, it had been custom to have gemstones installed in place of – ” 

"I don't care," Aemond snaps, cutting the surgeon off mid-sentence. Without waiting for a response, he pushes himself up from the reclined seat. He knows the surgeon’s sudden shift to small talk signals the end of the session. It always does.

"We're finished?" he says, not bothering to hide the bite in his tone. "Good. Cheers, doc."

“Wait, Aemond, remember to regularly apply the ointment – ” 

“Yes, yes, I know,” Aemond says rushedly, barely glancing at the surgeon as he walks to the door. “Oh, and that’s Sir Aemond to you. We’re not friends.”

In the week following the ball, you find yourself slipping back into the familiarity of your routine. Hours spent poring over your dissertation with your supervisor, extra shifts at the bookstore, and meetups with Jace that often blurred into late-night conversations over coffee. You threw yourself into distractions, eager to escape the lingering effects of that eventful night, but the high was hard to shake off.

For a night, you felt like you were floating on clouds. Everything had aligned so perfectly – Jace had been the ideal partner, Baela’s custom gown made you feel like royalty, and the ball itself was something from another world entirely. Things couldn’t have gone better. 

You could have gone with Aemond. But that doesn’t matter now. 

He made his choice – one that had been crystal clear until it wasn’t. Until he’d pulled you out of the ball, and kissed you with such fierce intensity that your legs nearly gave out beneath you. 

He avoided you, but also stalked you. Dropped you as his partner to the ball, but sought you out during it with an emotion in his eyes you couldn’t fully decipher. 

Is that emotion the very same that you feel? Perhaps it was only momentary, and the next time you see him, his gaze will display cold indifference. Aemond is fire, and then he’s ice, keeping you in a state of uncertainty. What you have with him is suspended in limbo – you told him you would wait, and you plan to make good on your word. 

It’s because of him that you refused Cregan when he texted you – your number practically offered up to him on a  silver platter by Jace – and asked if you wanted to ‘have dinner some time’. You said you were having a particularly busy week, so maybe a rain check? You weren’t exactly lying. You did keep very busy – intentionally or not, it doesn’t matter. But as you sit on your worn-out couch, research papers strewn on the coffee table after hours of struggling to break ground on your dissertation, the idea of having dinner with the handsome Stark seemed all the more tempting.

That when you hear it – a faint knock at your door. 

Living alone has never given you much anxiety before, and you didn’t think it would start tonight. But who could be knocking at your door past midnight, when you hadn’t buzzed anyone in? You were never on close terms with your neighbours, either. 

You sit on your couch looking like a deer in headlights, staring at the door like it’s supposed to silence the knocking.

When did you get so wary? It could be Jace. Maybe Helaena. But then again, they’re not the type to show up unannounced. And besides, if it were them, you’d have already – 

Aemond’s voice calls out your name, partially calming your racing mind. 

You sense hesitance in his tone. Almost embarrassed. Like he knows he shouldn’t be here. 

“Aemond?” You find your voice, and move quickly to the door. As you open it, the question is on the tip of your tongue – What the hell are you doing here? – but the words stick in your throat.

“Hi, darling,” he says weakly, exhaustion etched in his voice. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

Something resembling a gasp escapes your lips when he turns his head slightly, revealing the fresh bruise blossoming beneath his right eye, a vicious mix of maroon and violet. The skin is split, blood dried along the cut, though his eye itself looks unharmed. 

“Aemond, what – ”

“Can I come in?” he interrupts, his voice barely a whisper. “Please.”

He walks past you as you step aside, his eye trained on you the whole time. A newly-arrived guest in your home and he has already claimed the space, his presence intoxicating. The air feels heavier, as if your modest apartment has shifted to accommodate someone like him. Or maybe it was just the effect he has on you, what do you know?

You gesture for him to take a seat, anywhere he’d like, and he waits until you settle right next to him before he visibly relaxes. The tension in his body eases, and his shoulders drop as he glances down. It becomes apparent to him how battered he must look. 

He starts to say, “I’m sorry for coming over unannounced – ”

“What the fuck happened, Aemond?” you cut him off, your sharp tone making him flinch. He swallows nervously, eyes darting away before he responds. 

“I got into… an altercation. Nothing to worry about, really – ”

His nonchalance is grating to you, frustrating you to no end. How can he say that, when the skin below his good eye is an angry colour it should never be in? “Nothing to worry about? Look at you! Gods, why am I just sitting here… I have to get the first-aid kit – ”

You start to stand, but his hand shoots out, grabbing yours with surprising gentleness. “It’s fine. Just... sit with me?”

He’s not being fair, using that tone with you. His question reminds you of the first time Helaena brought you to their penthouse. She needed to pick something up from downstairs, when Aemond had wandered into the living room, a book tucked under his arm. “This is my brother Aemond!” she exclaimed at the sight of him. “Aemond, this is my new official best friend. Don’t scare her off! I’ll only be a minute.”

You’d stood awkwardly, watching Helaena leave, and when you finally turned back to Aemond, he was already lounging in a plush chair, a knowing smirk playing on his lips.

“You know you can sit with me, if you’d like,” he had called out. “Promise I don’t bite.”

He had kept that promise – literally, at least. His bite stung far more – he drew you in, made you fall for him, and just when you thought things seemed too good to be true, he ices you out and avoids you for months. 

But sure, Aemond didn’t bite. 

You ignore his plea, pulling your hand from his. The expression on his face morphs into disappointment, but you force yourself not to dwell on it. If he’s offended, it can most certainly wait until his injury is dealt with. 

“I’m getting the first aid kit,” you say firmly, before disappearing into the bathroom. When you return, he is leaning forward, head held in both hands like he’s burdened by a migraine.

A fresh surge of panic rises in your chest. You sit next to him, clutching the small first-aid kit, suddenly feeling like it’s far from enough. “Aemond, you should probably go to a hospital. You might have a concussion or something – ”

“I don’t,” he says flatly.

“How can you be sure?” You reach for his face, gently turning it toward you. Pulling out a disinfectant wipe, you start dabbing at the bruise. He tries to hold still, but every wince betrays the pain he’s trying so hard to hide. 

“Got hit in the face, not in the head,” he says matter-of-factly.

“Okay, smartass.” you reply, still unconvinced. Your nose scrunches at his tone, and his lips tug at the sight. He’s grateful that at least his lip wasn’t split – he knows you’d make things far more difficult for him if he had to resist the urge to kiss you. Especially with the way your reactions are always so damn adorable.

You apprehensively apply antiseptic to a cotton pad, dabbing it over his bruise. “I don’t know if this is enough, Aemond, we really should call someone… Helaena – ”

“It’s fine, darling. I’ve been through much worse,” he says coldly, and your face falls at his insinuation. You’re afraid to know just how much worse – what he went through, what he still could be going through. He reaches for your knee, and squeezes gently as a gesture of reassurance. “I’m sorry. But trust me, I’ll be fine.”

You shoot him a look of disbelief. He’s comforting you? It almost feels absurd – he’s the one who looks like he ran face first into a pole, yet here he is, acting like it’s no big deal. 

“Tell me what happened,” you demand, putting the contents of the first aid kit back with an audible snap of plastic.

Aemond hesitates, jaw clenching as he tries to find the right words. You can already tell that he’s going to try to downplay it. He says, “I, uhhh, got into a fight, I suppose.”

“What, you just felt like it?” you say bitterly. Ever since you’ve known him, Aemond has always been the most composed out of all his siblings. But it seems as if another Aemond came out the night of the accident. If you don’t look close enough, you would think he has changed completely. But you do, and you know that your Aemond is still in there somewhere.

He doesn’t answer right away. If he were to say he never feels like breaking things, like letting it all spiral out of control, he’d be lying through his teeth. “You should see the other guy,” he replies, leaning back with a cocky smirk that you just want to wipe right off his lips.

With your own.

“It’s not funny,” you mutter, lightly slapping his arm, and he puts on an exaggerated grimace.

“Don’t hit me. I’m already injured,” he playfully scolds. 

You sigh deeply. The boy isn’t making any of this easy. “Who did this to you? Who… who did you – ” Your face contorts into obvious worry, and he exhales sharply, his eyes flickering with distaste.

“Not Lucerys,” he sneers. “You don’t need to worry about your little friend. One of Alys’ degenerate friends at the club. Must have been a Greyjoy. He certainly smelled like one.”

The callousness of his tone, the way he spits the words without a second thought, feels wrong. You’ve heard Aemond make cutting remarks before, but they were always sharp, witty, delivered with a certain sensitivity. Now, it’s like he doesn’t care who he hurts.

“You got into a fight because… you wanted to defend Alys, is that it?” 

“No, gods.” He immediately shakes his head at the notion. “She had nothing to do with it. She left early… she wasn’t even there by that point.”

“Then what?”

The truth of it was, he heard the news of Lucerys’ early induction into the board at Driftmark, like some hero’s welcome. Lucerys, the Velaryon heir, rewarded for his resilience, for living through what nearly destroyed Aemond. His grandfather Corlys, being the CEO, had always doted on him – the raven-haired grandson who didn’t bear the slightest resemblance to him nor to his late son Laenor. 

Lucerys was treated like the golden child. And Aemond… Aemond was left to lick his own wounds in the shadows. 

So Aemond heard the news, and went on a bender. It was nothing if not immature. He knows it. But he hates that he can’t just let it go, that he can’t turn the other cheek like he’s supposed to.

“They said some idiotic things,” he mutters finally, his tone hollow, “and things got unruly. Next thing you know – ” He clicks his tongue, shrugging as if it’s no big deal.

“You just threw yourself into a fight? For what? To feel something?”

“I don’t want to talk about it, darling,” he says, his voice flat. Your frustration reaches its peak, and you wordlessly walk to the kitchen to retrieve several ice cubes, wrapping them in a clean hand towel to create a makeshift cold compress.

When you hand it to him, he just looks at you with brows raised. “Press it against your face,” you explain, your voice clipped but calm.

He looks amused, and he hovers the compress over his bruise for a mere second, before dropping it on the couch beside him, shaking his head. “I’ll pass,” he says, his tone dismissive.

“Just do it, Aemond.”

“It’ll cover my fucking eye,” he mutters, his voice breaking. “and I want to be able to see you. I want to… look at you.” He shifts uncomfortably, gesturing vaguely to his eyepatch. “As you can tell, this one is permanently out of commission.”

His vulnerability chips away at your frustration. “Aemond… ” you whisper his name softly, as his gaze burns through you. “You don’t have to act like this doesn’t bother you. You can be hurt, you can be angry. You can feel whatever it is you’re feeling. Just don’t shut me out.”

His jaw clenches, but his gaze doesn’t leave yours. “I’m not shutting you out.”

“Right. Sure,” you reply, unable to help the sarcasm. “Then stop brushing me off when I try to help you.”

He exhales sharply, his shoulders stiffening. “I don’t need you to fix me.”

“I’m not trying to fix you, Aemond,” you snap, but your voice cracks under the strain. “I’m trying to be here for you. There’s a difference. Why can’t you see that?”

“Because it’s not that simple!” His voice rises, sharp and biting, his frustration finally matching yours. “You can’t just magically undo what I’m going through. Who I am –”

“That’s not what I’m trying to do,” you shoot back. “I know I can’t make everything better, but I’m here and – ”

“You shouldn't have to stay,” he mutters, quieter this time. “It would be easier for you if you let me go.”

“You don’t get to decide what’s easier for me, Aemond,” you say, voice trembling with emotion. The silence stretches between you, and for a moment, you think he might actually let you in. 

But then he stands abruptly. “I shouldn’t have come,” he mutters, pacing the room. “This was a mistake.”

“Then why did you, Aemond?” you ask, standing too, your heart pounding in your chest. This was not how you expected your cluttered little night-in to go.

“Because… because of you!”

“Me? I have done nothing but try to help you, even when you push me away… I wait for you, and I keep waiting and – ”

“Why?” He leans over you, tilting his head. “Why wait? I can’t deal with what you seem to expect of me. I can see it in your eyes. How can you look at me like that?”

“Enlighten me,” you challenge, stepping closer. “Like what?”

“Like… I’m better than I am.” Like I’m good. “I’m not. I would ruin you.”

“And yet, here you are,” you insist. “You came here. You sought me out.”

He looks away, jaw clenching again. “I shouldn’t have. Alys would have taken me in, tucked me into bed without all this questioning. Not… whatever this is.”

Your throat clenches at his words, and you have to swallow back the pathetic sob that nearly rises out of you. “Is that what you want? Did you come here for a pat on the back and quick roll in the hay? Is that how you see me?”

“That’s not what I meant.” His eyes snap back to yours, full of anger and regret.

“I’m not going to ignore what’s happening with you, Aemond. I can’t. I care about you. You’re a lot better than you think you are. You’re good and kind and fair. But you’re just – ”

“Broken?” he interrupts, his tone biting, as though the word itself is a weapon.

“Aemond – ”

“Am I just a fixer-upper to you then, darling? A project for your brilliant mind?”

“That’s not true. You know it isn’t. You’re lashing out on me, and I just want to help you!”

“I don’t want your help.” His words are clipped, final, made clear over and over. But you don’t back down.

“Then what – ”

“I just want you,” he confesses, the words tumbling out of him like something precious. You stay silent, trying to process his words.

He continues, his voice growing more pained. “That’s just me. I’m fucked in the head for wanting impossible things. I want you to stop looking at me like I’m still the Aemond you used to know. Maybe that Aemond was never even real. I want you to stop wanting to fix me. And I… I just want you to love me.” 

You say nothing for a while, your chest rising and falling, betraying your erratic breathing. He says in finality, “Like I said – impossible.”

“It’s not impossible,” you find your voice, your eyes never leaving his. 

“What?”

“It’s real, Aemond. And quite frankly, it’s driving me insane,” you admit, feeling braver than you ever have before.

“Darling – ”

“You want me to love you?” you ask, your voice steady despite the chaos of the evening. “Well, you have it.”

He shakes his head slightly, like he’s trying to shake off your words. “You don’t actually mean that – ”

“I love you, idiot.”

“You love me,” he echoes, the words tentative, like he doesn’t quite believe it. He looks at you, like he’s seeing you for the first time. “I don’t think I’ve ever understood you,” he murmurs, almost to himself.

“Just what every girl wants to hear,” you tease, a small, weary smile breaking through the tension.

But Aemond isn’t smiling. He’s still staring at you, his hand twitching like he wants to reach out but doesn’t quite know how. “You love me?”

“Aemond.” You can only nod, growing unsure of yourself. Is this him realising that he doesn’t actually mirror your sentiment? Fire and ice – he wants your love, but can’t love you back.

In the heaviest of silences, you do what you’ve expertly done thus far. 

You wait. 

Series taglist (comment below to be added): @caught-in-the-afterglow @aemondtargaryensrider @punggo66 @dollfaceyourfear @candypurplebutterfly @moonmaiden1996 @mxrgodsstuff @lolitaisreal @blue-serendipity @melsunshine @thejanecampaign @fxngsfxgxrty @padfooteyes @msmarvel-19 @tempo-rary-fix @lauraneedstochill @julczimozart @sarcasticfangirl @witchyv @pyjama-shorts @bellaisasleep @zillahvathek @thincrusttheworks @krispold @yougotthatlove @raging-panda @fleetingly-artistic @throughgoeshamilton @polireader @katsav17 @minttea07 @kravitzwhore @meggiemay82 @hedonefox @daenysx @schniiipsel @namoreno @afro-hispwriter @aemondswifeisme @emcharra @malfoytargaryen @iiamthehybrid @fullmetalriotts @kellzlib @justsumtuffstuff @daydreamy-me @yentroucnagol @kezibear @queenofshinigamis @paprikaquinn (continued in comments...)

Some notes in the margins...

Maroon is back! Grateful to all of you lovely readers who waited 🖤

The suspense at the end! Gah!!! If I'm honest, I hit a wall right there. Does the night culminate in heated passion? Is it the right time? Would it be good for either of them?

I'm sure you'll know my decision from the first passage of part seven 😆

As always, I am eager to hear from yous!

[bromcommie]

tbh I still think Brock Rumlow was an interesting character and upon further examination way more unsettling a villain than most to me because like. Let’s be real, the second you lay eyes on Robert Redford as Pierce monologuing in his pristine suit and glass office high up in the sky he just screams Evil Politician! at you. You can see it coming a mile away. Meanwhile Rumlow is….Just Some Guy. On the surface, he’s just some side dude. He’s not enhanced, he’s not in some major position of power, he’s just someone who’s really good at what he does and seems dedicated enough to the work and functions well with his team. He respects Steve, might admire him even, but not so much that he gets starry eyed like everybody else. He’s lighthearted but focused, he’s no nonsense, he’s the everyman Steve can relate to way more than spooks like Natasha or Fury.

And okay, maybe what Rumlow does for a living is beat intimidate and kill people, but it’s not like that’s the primary objective, right, because SHIELD are the good guys and this is what Steve does now, too, anyway; except that Steve doesn’t really use any weapons other than the shield, he holds back, he doesn’t carry a gun anymore which is usually fine since he’s dangerous enough without it. But when that leaves him vulnerable, he’s covered: Rumlow’s got his six, and he does it well, and he earns some of his trust. This is familiar to Steve.

And maybe Rumlow’s a little too good, fine, maybe he shoots a guy in the head within the first fifteen minutes of the movie when he doesn’t necessarily have to and then cracks jokes immediately after but that’s alright too, because that guy had Steve at gunpoint and that guy was Bad whereas Rumlow is One of the Good Guys just doing his job, right. Rumlow’s joking around because he’s used to the violence, they’re all used to it, and this is just how it works. They’re just soldiers doing the grunt work and following orders, and this is familiar, too.

Except that they’re not soldiers and this isn’t a war, except that the work is for an intelligence agency whose job it is to hoard and steal information and monitor civilians and orchestrate and sabotage and meddle in internal and external state affairs. Except that the Good Guys, in reality, are extremely grey at best. Except that many of the Good Guys turn out to be Nazis on top of everything else, and it’s not that far of a stretch.

But when it’s all starting to unravel, you’re still thinking well maybe some of these guys didn’t know. Maybe they didn’t do it out of individual belief, and if faced with the right choice, they can be redeemed.

That is until you realize that Rumlow maybe didn’t respect Steve and what he did so much as what Steve could do if only Steve weren’t “weak” in other ways, if Steve had chosen the right side. That it not being personal is less a cop out and more a taunt the same way just following orders has always been, for Rumlow and many many men that came before him and will continue to come after. Until the vault when, by the most charitable of interpretations, Rumlow looks at the Winter Soldier letting himself be smacked around and crying and getting shocked like he’s maybe a little unnerved (if not just downright fascinated) by the whole thing, but not enough that it really changes anything for him, because the end justifies the means and it’s not really his problem, anyway.

Until Sam shows up and Rumlow looks at him like a bird of prey and says This is gonna hurt with a fucking smile on his face, and then you think: shit, man, obviously. How was it not clear from the start.

To me, what makes someone like Rumlow a good villain, even a side one, is not that he’s straight up Insane & Evil™️ or suffering from Tragic Backstory Syndrome or all hopped up on magic superstrength juice or whatever, but precisely the fact that he’s Just Some Guy with a cockroach survival mentality who operates well within the established system and just so happens to be really good at his job - a job that he might’ve even joined thinking it was for a good cause, or because he had something to prove, or simply because it gave him one hell of an excuse to be a bully. Because he either wholeheartedly believes in HYDRA or he just doesn’t give much of a shit either way so long as he gets his due in the end, and both are just as bad.

Because when you strip away all the grand scale superhero theatrics, you’ve seen this before. You’ve seen Rumlows in your school and in your neighborhood and in the military and the cop car patrolling your street. They’re the ones who sometimes say or do somewhat offputting shit but you figure it’s fine because they’re otherwise real nice or charismatic or normal looking, or maybe they work a job that’s framed as helpful or protective or inherently good despite the power dynamics at play, or they share your background and interests and you chat about the weather being crap this time of year.

And every time one of them turns out to be a violent, hateful piece of shit, you’re still somehow surprised then, too, when you really shouldn’t be.

[sweet-as-an-angel]

Yandere! GILF Headcanons

Warnings: Implied Smut, Older Man/Younger Reader, Age Gap, Spanking, Jealous Dominic, Manipulation, No Pronouns used for Reader except ‘You’.

♡ Hector had only loved once before meeting you. Likewise, he had only loved once after meeting you. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t interested in you.

♡ On the contrary, when Dominic had pulled up to the sprawling manor Hector orchestrated, expecting to see Marilyn at his side yet seeing an unfamiliar face in her stead, his curiosity was, admittedly, peaked. No small achievement considering this man has done and seen everything this world has to offer.

♡ Dominic explained – in monotone French – that Marilyn was sick, hence she couldn’t come. He’d brought you – a family friend – in her place. You couldn’t ignore the waver in his voice, his pointed stare up at his father, who resided in an almost throne-like armchair behind a mahogany desk.

♡ Hector looked through Dominic and gazed at you. You could see now where Dominic’s predilection for sharp, underhanded stares originated; the founding father of Dominic’s cold architecture.

♡ You felt as if his eyes combed over your very being, unravelling all the tangles in your make-up and laying you down to your most base, threadbare foundations, seeing you for what you really were.

♡ “Very well,” the older man grumbled, only taking his eyes off you once Dominic cleared his throat. Beside you, his son’s fingers twitched. 

♡ You were excused shortly after with Dominic taking you outside, almost jogging down the steps with a haste you’d never witnessed before, and bringing you to a most isolated spot. You’d noticed a collection of staff – chefs, maids, caretakers, gardeners – crawling about the mansion. None of them resided near you now.

♡ “Don’t talk to him unless you’re with me,“ Dominic warned. In his eyes watched a man you’d never seen before. Something vaguely…human in the colour of his irises. Warm. Afraid.

♡ Interaction with Dominic’s father – Hector – was uncomfortable at first. You’d tried to juggle Hector’s hostile hospitality with Dominic’s warnings, ultimately toing and forming between the two since they never inhabited the same space for more than ten minutes whenever meals were served.

♡ One day, when Dominic had to leave the manor on important  business, unable to take you with him, he’d instructed you to stay in your room. He tried to smooth over the jagged brickwork of his command with a suave charm that could put the incarnation of panic at ease, but you could tell – for perhaps the first time – that it felt false.

♡ Dominic left. Hours passed. You grew bored.

♡ You left your room.

♡ And who did you happen to meet whilst trawling the halls, searching for any form of entertainment?

♡ Why, the very man Dominic had forbidden you from seeing.

♡ Hector came down the hall on certain footing, obviously having taken great care of his mobility in his younger years to be able to traverse the many staircases and rooms this residence held. So why did he have so many caretakers?

♡ You scarcely had time to wonder as, before you could hide, he spotted you. Ordered you to come to him. You did, hesitant. He gave you a monotone look.

♡ “You. Come with me.”

♡ You followed him to a door that felt familiar. Inside, his study. On his desk, a pre-set game of chess. He sat at his desk. He motioned for you to join him.

♡ You, with a pounding heart and a strong sense of being out of place, played chess. Hector taught you the best way to win – “For when you compete against Dominic.”

♡ You bantered, lethargic at first, until you found even footing on subjects that weren't just Hector’s only son.

♡ You wondered what it was about his father that Dominic was so keen to isolate you from, to conceal from you.

♡ Nothing you cared for, honestly. Especially when Hector showed you just how solid his sense of humour was, how intelligent he was. How lively he could be despite his initial coldness.

♡ Of course, he was still icy, very blunt most of the time. But you could tell it wasn’t his choice – he was made this way. By who or what, you couldn’t be sure. But what you did know was that you weren’t about to let Dominic’s personal vendetta ruin your budding friendship with his father.

♡ No longer did you hide from Hector’s judgement as you scampered back to your room, the shutting of the front door reverberating through the manor’s great walls; you sought refuge from Dominic’s as he came storming down the hallway, his footfalls faster than he’d have liked them to be as he rushed to check on your condition, to see you after being forced to leave you in his father’s un-care.

♡ After that, you made more of an effort to see Hector. Especially as you had few other people to talk to – Dominic especially as he seemed more and more swept up in sudden business meetings and last-minute supply chain issues.

♡ The longer you spent in Hector’s presence – in the garden, in the library, in his study for more games of chess – the more you began to see slivers of him in Dominic. Scratchings of silver beneath rock; the inclinations of a vein of purest ore.

♡ Though, that did not mean the metal that lay dormant beneath was pure in itself.

♡ On the contrary, when you weren’t around, Hector made full – and I mean full – use of the maids, caretakers and staff at his disposal. Anyone who bore a similar enough resemblance to you was subject to any manner of his objectification.

♡ Lasting stares, increasingly lewd requests, commands to snoop through the few personal belongings you’ve brought with you – the sort of thing any powerful older man will do for the object of their affections.

♡ Sexual matters aren’t off the table, either.

♡ Far from it. 

♡ In fact, it’s bent over the edge of Hector’s desk, whining and whimpering and at the mercy of a man far more experienced than his old age could belie.

♡ He’s so nasty with it, too. He knows his workers will do anything he asks of them – for the right price. And he’s got nothing but money to burn.

♡ God forbid his most recent toy talks back to him, lest they be subject to a thorough spanking by Hector’s belt.

♡ He’s still more than capable of getting himself off without the assistance of his employees, though. He just enjoys the power he has over them. Enjoys the taste of the influence he’ll have over you.

♡ Guy’s a wealthy man, he’s got cameras everywhere. And Dominic knows this. Hence he’s always around to cover you up when you’re getting changed – even if it makes him look somewhat questionable. 

♡ You’re for his eyes only, but he knows his father will find a way to try and sneak a peek of you – to show Dominic that, while in his house, you’re both under his rules.

♡ As was the case now as Hector requested for you come to his study for afternoon tea.

♡ While there, making light conversation, he dropped a question that hung, heavy, between you in a way you couldn’t quite describe/

♡ “Did I ever tell you,” began Hector, knowing full-well he’s not once recounted this tale to you. His old age will afford him the disguise of senility, if only for a short while. You’ll listen, politely.

♡ “About Dominic’s mother?”

♡ You tell him no, that not even Dominic has ever mentioned his mother – or his family – to you before. Hector hummed. Grumbled, more so.

♡ The void in his chest sank lower as he recalled to you the greatest love of his life.

♡ “Too good for this world,” he said, regaling her acts of altruism, of philanthropy. “Someone upstairs must’ve known it, too.”

♡ You had a feeling that ‘upstairs’ transcended far beyond the many dusty rooms Hector had advised you and Dominic not to go exploring during your time here.

♡ He told you, with practiced malcontent, how Dominic’s birth would be his mother’s un-birth; her escort from this life to the next. Hector sniffed, though not for tears. You still jolted forward to comfort him, though.

♡ And he wasn't one to reject your offer.

♡ The portrait of his wife – young and beautiful for a cruel infinity – watched over the two of you.

♡ “So you see,” he continued, “That’s why Dominic doesn’t visit – or I’m willing to guess, talk about – me as much as you perhaps do with your parents.”

♡ Of course, you understood perfectly where he was coming from. Something in him grinned at the idea of even a drop of a villainous hue staining Dominic’s curated disguise, making him scrub and scrub at the veneer until it wore away and revealed the corpse beneath piloted by parasites.

♡ You tell Hector that if he ever wants to talk, you’re always down to listen. Hector grants you a small smile. Artificial warmth. Gently, he slides his hand atop yours, pats it.

♡ You are the singular object his son desires. Hence, you are the object he shall steal from him, for there is no better form of discipline than loss.

♡ And Hector wants Dominic to know what it’s like to lose everything.

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[deliciousangelfestival]

Love Me A Little

Character: Secretary!Bucky x Female!Reader

Words: 1,539

Summary: "Love me, even just a little." When she uttered those words, they struck Bucky like a bolt of lightning, leaving him utterly bewildered. After all, he was just a secretary—his world and hers seemed galaxies apart.

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Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

A/N: Check out the male version of this story - Be Mine.

It was already 1:00 a.m., and the streets lay deserted, easing Bucky's drive. The sleek black Bugatti smoothly entered the apartment basement car park. Just one more turn, and he would find his usual parking spot.

"Screech." The sound of tires screeching echoed in the empty basement.

"Huh?" Bucky's foot instinctively hit the brake as he caught sight of the familiar figure standing in front of his car.

"Y/N?"

It's you. The sole daughter of the Rogers family, the heiress to Starlight Enterprises, a conglomerate spanning oil and gas, telecom, retail, and financial services.

You had fled, prompting the company to dispatch security teams in search of you.

And here you were.

Bucky stepped out of the car. "What are you doing? Don't you realize everyone's been searching for you?"

You scoffed, your tone laced with defiance. "So what? At least everyone will learn that I'm serious. I refuse to marry that guy."

Bucky understood the depth of your frustration. Your family was orchestrating an engagement between you and their business partner. But you vehemently opposed it. He comprehended why; the man they wanted you to marry was notorious—a playboy and a drug addict.

Unable to sway your resolve, Bucky carefully chose his words. "You should go home."

He reached out, gently clasping your hand, his touch pleading, wanting to guide you to safety.

But you recoiled, pushing his hand away. "I don't want to."

Bucky's heart sank, his expression pained. "Your family is worried about you."

Your retort was sharp, cutting. "Are they really? Or are they just afraid of losing their golden ticket?"

A tense silence enveloped them as Bucky grappled with the weight of your words. As the secretary to your brother, Steve, the Vice President, he was privy to the inner workings of wealthy families, aware that most marriages were arranged for business purposes.

Like Steve and Peggy, who defied the odds and found happiness together despite the pressures of their world, you refused to succumb to a loveless marriage.

With teary eyes, you gazed at Bucky, desperation etched in every tear. "I'll tell my parents I'll marry you instead."

Bucky sighed, feeling the weight of your request once more. You had asked him this before, seeking refuge from the loveless future awaiting you. Each time, he had declined.

"Not everything will always go your way," he murmured, his words heavy with resignation. "You've been living in a bubble as Princess Rogers." He paused, unable to bring himself to utter the name of your family's empire. "Now you're facing reality."

You fought back the tears, stung by his harshness. It was the first time Bucky had spoken so coldly to you. "Do you think my feelings for you are fake?"

"My whole life has been arranged from A to Z without my opinion," you continued, your voice trembling with suppressed emotion.

"The only thing I have is my dream of us living happily ever after. Can I at least have that?" Your breaths came in ragged gasps as you struggled to contain your emotions.

"Stop dreaming. Go home," Bucky commanded, his voice firm as he pointed behind you.

'Screech.'

With a screech of tires, a white Mercedes arrived to collect you. It dawned on you that Bucky had already informed the security team of your whereabouts.

As you watched Bucky walk away, a surge of determination washed over you. Clenching your fists, you whispered, "I'll show you."

########

A few days later

The entire Rogers family had gathered for tonight's dinner, including your grandparents, Thomas Rogers, the esteemed founder of the company. Bucky joined the dinner as well, having become one of the company's key figures, seated right beside you.

Despite the gravity of your previous conversation, you seemed to have put it aside, acting as if nothing had happened when you saw Bucky.

The dinner unfolded in its usual extravagant manner, with everyone engaging in polite small talk until dessert was served.

Your grandmother, Anna, broke the silence. "It's wonderful that we could all come together like this. We must discuss our youngest's engagement."

Your mother, Sophia, nodded, her smile gentle. "I met with them four days ago, and we've already ironed out all the details, from the church to the wedding."

Bucky's mind raced. Four days ago? That's precisely when you had gone missing.

Anna's excitement bubbled over. "This wedding will be magnificent. I can hardly contain myself."

But only the two women seemed enthused; your grandfather, Thomas, and your father, Benjamin, remained stoic, while your brother Steve stayed silent.

Then, a sudden sound cut through the air—a sharp "clank" as a fork stabbed into a plate.

All eyes turned to you.

"I don't like it," you stated flatly, your voice cutting through the tension like a knife.

Sophia's hand hesitated mid-air, poised to call the waitress, but froze when she heard her daughter's words.

"I don't like anything," you continued, your voice ringing with defiance. "I don't like that person, the wedding, anything."

"Y/N, stop," Sophia interjected, her tone tinged with frustration. "We've discussed this."

"Discuss?" you retorted bitterly. "Do you mean when you ignore my words?"

Anna's patience wore thin. "Y/N, enough with the tantrum. This concerns the entire family."

You crossed your arms defiantly. "I refuse to marry him."

Anna rose from her seat, ready to reprimand you, but a sharp glance from Thomas halted her in her tracks. Without a word, she sank back down, chastened by her husband silent command.

Thomas fixed you with a steady gaze, the same gaze that had once spoiled you as his beloved granddaughter. "Explain to me the reason why."

"I don't love him," you declared, your voice trembling with emotion. "I love someone else."

A sudden palpitation coursed through Bucky's chest. He sensed the situation spiraling out of control.

"Whose the person you love?" Thomas inquired, his voice firm.

You didn't hesitate. "Bucky."

'Ba-dump'

The room fell into stunned silence, broken only by the rapid thudding of Bucky's heart echoing in his ears, his mind racing as he grappled with the revelation unfolding before him.

Bucky rose hastily, his intention to apologize to the Chairman halted as your hand clasped his, the determination in your eyes stopping him in his tracks. It was the first time he had seen you like this, and it sent a shiver down his spine.

As all eyes turned towards you, you swallowed hard before speaking up. "And I'm pregnant. Bucky is the father."

The room erupted in chaos as Sophia and Anna screamed in unison.

"What?" they exclaimed in disbelief.

"Bucky! How dare you touch my daughter!" Sophia lunged forward, her hand reaching for Bucky's hair, but Benjamin intervened, restraining her.

Bucky opened his mouth to protest and deny the accusation, but the words stuck in his throat. He was taken by surprise, too.

"Silence," Thomas, the Chairman's authoritative voice, cut through the commotion, bringing an abrupt end to the chaos.

He rose from his seat, followed by Benjamin and Steve, their expressions a mix of shock and concern.

Fixing Bucky with a steely gaze, Thomas uttered just two words. "A word."

Bucky swallowed hard, his heart pounding as he replied, "Yes, Sir," bracing himself for the inevitable confrontation.

########

In Benjamin's office, Bucky stood before the three men, the weight of their scrutiny heavy upon him as they remained silent. Finally, Thomas broke the tension with a direct question. "Is everything true?"

Bucky knelt before his boss and friend, his voice steady but his heart pounding. "No, sir. None of it is true. I've never laid a hand on her."

Thomas's expression softened, a flicker of relief crossing his features. "Good."

Bucky let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, grateful for Thomas's understanding.

But then Benjamin spoke up, his tone contemplative. "Then why don't you like my daughter?"

Bucky's brow furrowed in confusion as he lifted his head to meet Benjamin's gaze.

"She's better off with you than with that spoiled man," Steve interjected, his voice firm.

Benjamin nodded in agreement, his eyes holding a hint of understanding.

Bucky was taken aback. "What?"

Thomas leaned forward, his voice grave. "The wedding arrangement was orchestrated by my wife and Y/N's mother. I'm relieved my granddaughter took a stand today."

Steve clapped Bucky on the shoulder, a mixture of relief and gratitude in his eyes. "I nearly lost my cool when she said she was pregnant. I almost punched you. Thank goodness it was a lie."

Bucky struggled to find words, overwhelmed by the unexpected turn of events.

Steve's tone softened. "Stay with her. I won't allow my sister to marry that man."

As the men continued their discussion, Bucky's mind raced, unable to fully comprehend the depth of their support.

Excusing himself, Bucky closed the door behind him, only to find you waiting for him outside.

Your worried expression melted his defenses as you approached him.

"What did they say?" you asked, searching his eyes for answers.

Bucky hesitated, then shook his head. "Nothing."

You breathed a sigh of relief and pulled him into a tight hug, his body stiffening like a log. Lifting your head to meet his gaze, determination flashed in your eyes.

"I'll make you love me," you vowed softly. "Even just a little."

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[doumadono]

Warnings: smut w/o plot, rough p in v, oral (f & m receiving), wry & dom Dabi, f!reader, a lot of cursing and names calling, slapping, a little degradation, hate s*x Synopsis: arranging a birthday celebration for Dabi proved to be a mistake. It ignited his anger, driving him to his room in a fit of rage. When anger transformed into desire, Dabi insisted on celebrating in his own way, marking the first intimate encounter between the two of you A/N: the prompt was Dabi's first time with his girlfriend is on his birthday This marks the last story crafted in celebration of Dabi's birthday 💜

MY HERO ACADEMIA MASTERLIST DABI'S BIRTHDAY EVENT

"You little cunt!" Dabi's voice thundered, a venomous edge cutting through the air. He didn't bother casting a glance in your direction.

In response to the verbal assault, you jerked your hand free from his grip. "What's the matter this time, Mr. Know-It-All? I merely intended to throw you a pleasant birthday celebration, and you act as though I threatened to annihilate your entire family!"

Dabi scoffed dismissively, striding purposefully toward his room. "Do you think I'd give a damn fuck if you did? Of course not. And I thought I made myself crystal clear — I want no bloody celebrations. I detest my birthday. I despise the very notion of being born. What is so challenging for your tiny, stupid brain to comprehend?"

A disbelieving sigh escaped your lips. While you were well aware of his aversion to birthdays, the magnitude of his anger caught you off guard. Baking him a cake and orchestrating a modest gathering with the assistance of Toga and Shigaraki seemed like a harmless gesture to celebrate his existence, yet it had evidently ignited an unexpected fury.

Dabi came to an abrupt halt and glanced back at you, seizing your wrist and pulling you closer to him. "No response, huh?" he sneered. "Fine, little cunt. So, you're keen on celebrating the day this damn pathetic villain, murderer, and arsonist was born? Well, we'll celebrate it, but we'll do it my damn way."

He forcibly pulled you behind him, and despite your inner desire to break free from his grip, the futility of any attempt was evident – he wielded a strength far surpassing your own.

Dabi swung open the door to his room and shoved you inside, the harsh sound of the door slamming shut resonating through the air as he entered, sealing the room in an oppressive silence.

In the midst of the heated altercation, the details of the argument eluded your memory. A palpable anger still hung in the air, the exchange of words escalating to a fever pitch.

Your gaze shifted toward Dabi, poised to retort, but the intensity in his turquoise eyes arrested your words. The pulsating vein in the black-haired man's neck became a focal point, a magnetic force compelling your desire to quell its frenetic rhythm with a kiss.

His recognition of the unspoken yearning reflected in your face halted his verbal assault, leaving his mouth slightly ajar.

In that suspended moment, the impulse to crush your lips against his neck overwhelmed you. You yearned to soothe the frenetic heartbeat beneath the surface.

As if reading your intentions, Dabi seized you abruptly, drawing you into the circle of his robust arms. It was as if he had glimpsed into the depths of your desires, a skill he wielded with uncanny accuracy. In that instant, he kissed you with the intensity you had yearned for, the clash of tongues mirroring the earlier verbal sparring. The taste of anger mingled with a surprising sweetness, and your body ignited with a white-hot desire, a fervor that only Dabi could unleash. The searing sensation surged from your chest down to your thighs, awakening every inch of your being.

You had sensed the fire kindling in Dabi's loins, the hardness growing almost instantly, and his whole body turning super hot due to his quirk.

Dabi grasped a handful of your hair, yanking your head back, and engaged in a fervent exchange of kisses, licks, and nips, each touch eliciting moans of pleasure from your slightly bruised, parted lips.

The yearning became unbearable, compelling you to crave the feel of Dabi's skin against yours. Almost as if he had divined your thoughts, he leaned back, swiftly discarding his shirt through his hair. His hands reached for your blouse, and with a forceful yank, he tore it open, sending buttons scattering across the tiny room. Despite the intimidating aura that surrounded Dabi, you harbored no fear.

Even though you were aware of his desires, the topic about sex was returning like a boomerang, resurfacing every few days. It had been over half a year since you both became a thing, yet you had not crossed the threshold into a physical relationship, and this restraint was gradually driving Dabi to the brink of madness. You suspected that today's outbursts were fueled, in part, by the previous night's rejection when, amidst a heated make-out session, you had declined his advances as his hand ventured into your shorts, teasing your folds through the fabric of your knickers.

Yet now, a curious mixture of emotions surged within you. Somehow, you found yourself yearning for him with an intensity that defied explanation. Despite no longer being a virgin, a concern lingered about the potential discomfort of engaging in sex with Dabi.

Dabi's lips sought yours once more as he simultaneously released the front clasp of your sheer bra. He took one of your nipples into his mouth, the exquisite pain of his teeth on your flesh intensifying the smoldering embers between your legs into a searing white-hot flame of desire.

"Dabi..." you whined loudly, rolling your head back, resting it against the wall, slipping one of your hands into his hair.

His impatient hands slipped under your skirt in a quest to discover your most sensitive spot. The intensity of his anger and desire surged as his hand encountered obstacles on its journey - your panties. Finally, locating the waistband, Dabi forcefully burnt your panties away, being careful enough to not hurt you. Free from the hindrance, his hungry fingers found what they sought.

Dabi inserted a finger into your wetness, gliding it upward over your swollen clit after finger fucking you for a moment, eliciting moans of ecstasy from you. Simultaneously, his lips continued their exploration, savoring the taste of yours, tracing a path from your lips to your earlobes and down to your neck. "Fucking little cunt," he sneered. "I'll certainly educate you on how I desire my birthday to be celebrated. Perhaps it will penetrate that thick, stupid skull of yours at last, you little whore."

Your moans of pleasure intensified, your hands exploring the contours of Dabi's body. His skin felt sensuous and super warm beneath your fingertips. Before long, your hands discovered his pierced nipple. Gently, you pinched it, coaxing a primal sound from Dabi's lips as he worked diligently on marking your neck, signaling to the world that you belonged to him.

The heightened arousal compelled you to push him away slightly. You replaced your fingers with your mouth after leaning forward, nipping and licking his chest. The tip of your tongue traced along his tensed muscles, whether concealed beneath healthy skin or adorned with scars and purple patches, relishing the taste that was undeniably manly and salty, yet sweet as nectar to your senses.

Dabi's fingers fucked you more, and had rendered you incredibly wet, your clitoris throbbing with anticipation, swollen with both pleasure and need. Seizing your chin in his hand, Dabi kissed you roughly, propelling you back against the wall. He then descended to his knees, lifting your skirt, and trailed his tongue up one thigh and then the other, savoring the juices that had escaped during the fervor of his fingers' endeavors.

Dabi's warm tongue resumed its task, leisurely stroking your sweet, swollen spot. He inserted a finger, moving in and out, synchronizing the motion with the skilled strokes of his tongue. His tongue circled around your sticky clit, while his finger worked diligently to pleasure your pussy. Suddenly, he sucked on it with a hunger reminiscent of a baby latching onto its mother's breast. Your moans grew louder, the sensation of his sucking propelling you closer to the edge, teetering on the brink of no return.

"Yes, Dabi, oh! Just like that!" you gasped, attempting to keep him in the spot to grind your pussy against his face, but Dabi swatted your hands away and rose to meet your gaze.

His eyes mirrored yours, smoky with unbridled lust. "Oh, no, no, little dirty slut. Not yet. No matter how you beg, you'll come when I say," he declared, denying you the release you sought as he asserted control over your pleasure. "Suck me off like a good slut and I'll think of rewarding you."

The overwhelming urge to taste the most manly of flavors had consumed you, leading your hands to fumble with Dabi's thick, white belt. Finally releasing it, the snap and zipper undone, you descended to your knees in front of him, pushing down his dark pants. Dabi's hardened member sprung free, pulsating with the burning lust, a little pearl of precum adorned the slit of its tip. Your cheeks reddened upon noticing the piercing just beneath the tip. Your tongue explored his shaft, moving around and under, tracing the prominent vein, finally reaching the head and swirling around it. It was moist, and the salty flavor was a delightful sensation, spilling all over your tongue. Unable to contain yourself any longer, you took him between your swollen lips, bobbing your head back and forth eagerly, moaning around him.

Dabi's sharp intake of breath signaled the pleasure coursing through him as he felt your lips on his dick. "That's it, dirty whore, suck that fat cock."

You sucked and licked, the intensity of his moans guiding the rhythm of your movements. The sweet labor of tasting your boyfriend drove you into a state of pure ecstasy.

With a resounding pop sound, you withdrew his dick from your mouth, using one hand to jerk it, spreading your saliva across the length of his shaft. Pressing the erect member against his abdomen, you then lowered your head to cradle his heavy balls in your mouth, delicately pressing on them with your tongue.

"Fuck," he growled, closing his eyes for a moment. "You're a fucking whore. My private fuck toy. You're nothing more than a whore, spreading your legs so willingly f'me right now. Look at you. And two days ago you were whining that you're not ready to let me fuck you just yet. Pathetic."

His lewd words elicited a moan from you as you resumed the task of sucking his cock. Ensuring to swirl your tongue around the head, you then proceeded to kiss along the vein running beneath the shaft before you pushed his dick back into your mouth, bobbing your head eagerly.

Suddenly, Dabi reached down, seizing your arm and pulling you up. "Enough, cunt. Time to fuck that pretty, little cunt, yeah?"

"I am so ready for you to fill my belly with your fat cock, daddy," your words quivered with desire.

Dabi grinned wryly. "You're a pathetic bitch, princess. You think with your fucking cunt. So disappointing."

Pressed against the wall, Dabi gripped one of your legs, lifting it up. In one fluid motion, he drove his cock deep inside you, easily bottoming out in your pussy.

"Dabi!" Your scream of pleasure echoed long and loud as the painful stretch overwhelmed your mind.

He lifted your other leg, picking you off the floor, impaling you against the wall, never losing the rhythmic, frantic thrusts.

One of your hands glided down from Dabi's shoulder to your wet clit, skillfully massaging it as he thrust into your pussy. He felt like a white-hot spear inside your pussy. You and Dabi stared into each other's eyes. Both your hands now rested on Dabi's shoulders. You arched your back, rolling your hips in his embrace to synchronize with each of his strokes. "More, more, more!" you begged, your tone pathetic.

Dabi encircled his arm around your ass, using his free hand to deliver a sharp slap to your face. "Look at me, bitch! Look at me!"

It proved challenging for you to maintain focus on his face, especially with every forceful thrust causing the aggressive tip of his cock to brush and nudge all the right spots deep within you. "I… I can't, D… Da…"

He didn't allow you to finish your sentence, responding by slapping your other cheek. "I. Said. Look. At. Me!"

Moaning unabashedly, like a cheap whore you apparently were in that moment, you gazed at him through teary eyes. The singular thought that occupied your mind was the anticipation of his cum, filling you to the brim.

Dabi intensified his rhythm, his buttocks flexing with each forceful thrust. He nibbled on the column of your neck, emitting guttural grunts. "Fucking bitch. Your cunt belongs to me. You belong to me. You fucking naughty whore."

In the final few thrusts, as Dabi's movements became increasingly erratic, he reached the peak of his release within the warmth of your pussy. "Take it, bitch, take it, take it," he growled through gritted teeth. The temperature of his skin soared, accompanied by wisps of dark smoke and the faint scent of burning flesh as he briefly lost the grip on his Blueflame quirk.

His hot seed spilled into your pussy, intensifying your own climax as your pussy clenched tightly around his throbbing shaft. "Dabi!!!" you screamed, the overwhelming sensations pushing you to the brink of consciousness, making it difficult to catch your breath.

Dabi lowered one of your legs, and then the other. Clinging to each other, you leaned against the wall, neither trusting your legs to support you. Dabi's semen mixed with your juices slowly traced down your shaking legs, leaving a trail of slickness in its wake.

Dabi cradled your chin between his thumb and forefinger, planting a tender kiss on your lips. "Now, you've been the good girl you are, princess. Satisfied with the fucking celebration?"

You trailed a series of soft kisses along the contours of his sharp jawline. "Yes, but… are you still upset with me, Dabi?"

Dabi scoffed, theatrically rolling his eyes. "No. I fucked away all the stress, yeah?"

"You burned my favorite panties," you complained, making a sad face.

He leaned down to hoist his pants back up, tucking his flaccid cock back into its confines and adjusting them before fastening the belt. "I'll buy you a new pair, just stop whining."

Dabi flopped onto his bed, sliding both hands under his head as he gazed up at the cracks on the ceiling.

Climbing onto the bed, you curled into a ball by his side, resting your head on his chest, attuning yourself to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. "I'm sorry for riling you up."

"It's fine," he grumbled. "Let's not talk about that, doll."

A few moments of silence hung in the air before you whispered, "I just want you to know that I genuinely love you, every fiber of your being."

Dabi remained unresponsive initially, but after a prolonged and piercing silence, he wrapped his arm around you, leisurely stroking your shoulder. "Thanks, doll face. I love you too."

[weskie]

Earned (Albert Wesker x gn!Reader)

no warnings, wesker lives au, extremely loose followup to this, wesker receiving affection, i think he deserves it, if that's wrong i don't wanna be right | Fic Directory

Sometimes you can see through the cracks of his cold, unbothered demeanor.

There’s something… fragile under all of it.  Buried beneath decades of shielding himself from the worst this world had to offer, from dealings with the dregs of humanity and a life manufactured and directed without his knowledge.

You remember how volatile Wesker had been after discovering the truth from Spencer.  The cracks you peer through now had been wedged clear open back then.  Salt dumped into the not-so-metaphorical wound.  You found him in a fit of rage when he finally came home, destroying his entire office just to cope in the only way he could think of.  Splinters of debris gave way under your footsteps and he glared daggers at you, daring you to come closer, daring you to cross the fray into the eye of the storm.

His reluctance to let you touch him weaned with every passing second that you smoothed your thumbs over his cheeks.  It was startling to see his typically calm exterior eroded so completely. You’d never seen him so… shattered.  It wasn’t until later that you’d understand that the foundation of his entire life had been swept out from under his feet. But, even then, you had an inkling that something had truly shaken him to his core.

“Who am I?”  

You’ll never forget the flare of amber glowing brighter in his eyes as each word fell from his lips over and over, nor the bruising grip he had on your arms, until he hid his face in the crook of your neck– secretly so desperate to hide from the haunting revelations of his life.

And you don’t forget it now as you run your fingers through his hair, cradling his head on your lap while he rests.  His recovery had been long and arduous, and it had humbled him more than anything possibly could have.  His dependence upon you had been a nearly insurmountable sore spot, but you wager it taught him a truth so incredibly foreign to his perception of the world.

Vulnerability can be okay.

At least it can be with you.  You’re not out here to stab him in the back or raw deal him for a larger cut in some grand scheme.  You’re not a multi-billion dollar pharmaceutical company pulling his strings nor the corpse that once orchestrated the entire marionette show.

You’re someone who loves him– adores him. 

It’s taken him a very long time to truly believe that, much less accept it.  You will forever be his greatest weakness and strength, all rolled into one.  You are leverage for anyone who wants to truly hurt him, but you are also the ferocity with which he will unmake them for even considering it.  

Worse yet? 

You are the only reason he’s glad to have not perished in that volcano.  Wesker remembers only flashes of his dreams while cocooned in Uroboros, but he knows, without a shadow of a doubt, that he dreamt of you.  That it was your voice that pulled him through, your presence that he reached out to in his near comatose state. It was you who he sought after waking, despite how his body screamed to cease his movements.

So maybe…

Maybe it isn’t so wrong to let those cracks open up when he’s with you.  Maybe you should see the parts of him locked away from the world.  You should know the little boy thrown into the best boarding schools money could buy, the one who wondered if he had parents like the others did, who sought academic excellence so that he’d have even a fraction of the love he’s seen bestowed upon others by right of birth to those who could love them– to the man he is now, stripped of his pride and still always left to wonder what his true name had been.

Long ago, he asked you a question under much different circumstances.  Have you earned me, he’d said.  As he peeks through his farce of sleeping to take in the sight of you looking at him with endless love, only one thought lingers in his mind.

You have.

[dreamescapeswriting]

Twisted Obsession ~ BC & SCB

⤜WORD COUNT: 13.7K

⤜GENRE: DARK ROMANCE!!!!!! Check the trigger warnings below, yander fic, twisted, sick, forced love, stockholm syndrome, ANGST!!!!

⤜PAIRING: Yandere!Changbin x Reader x Yandere!Chan

⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - August 2024

⤜MASTERLIST

⚠️⚠️⤜TRIGGER WARNING: This piece of FICTIONAL writing will containing the following: obsession, skipping meals, manipulation, stockholm syndrome, gaslighting, love bombing, yandere, murder, mentions of torture, corpses blood, being chained up, held hostage, fire, death. Please don’t read if any of those will trigger you.⚠️⚠️

The café was bustling with the usual evening crowd, a mix of students, people who were leaving work or even heading to work, and friends catching up after a long day. The warm aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, blending with the soft hum of conversation. You were sat at a corner table with Chan and Changbin, your laughter ringing out as you recounted a funny story from work, barely able to get the words out to finish your story.

It hadn't even been that funny to recount, it was more of one of those "you had to be there" stories but the boys exchanged a glance, their smiles genuine but their eyes betraying a deeper emotion. They had known you for years, the three of you were a trip that had been inseparable since college. Yet, recently, something had shifted. Both of them found their feelings for you growing more intense, more possessive not that either of them would ever mention it to you. But they did to one another, confiding in one another about what feelings they'd been experiencing lately and a lot of that had been extreme rage and possessiveness.

"That’s hilarious, Y/N," Chan said, his gaze lingering on you longer than usual but you didn't notice as you lifted the cup of coffee to your lips and let out an exaggerated sigh at how good it tasted after the hellish day you'd had. 

"You always know how to lighten the mood." Chan finished with a smirk. You smiled warmly at him, unaware of the storm brewing beneath his calm exterior. Chan glanced over at Changbin who smiled sweetly.

Between the two of them, Chan was more strategic when it came to things, always orchestrating plans to hang out or to get you alone with the two of them but Changbin was more protective....A little overprotective but you'd never seemed to notice, or at least let on that you knew.

"Thanks, Chan. You guys always make my day better." You smile reaching your hand over the table touching the top of both of their hands and running your fingers along their skin softly. Changbin’s eyes softened as he watched you, a mixture of affection and something darker flickering in his gaze when you touched them both. 

"We’re always here for you, Y/N. You know that." He whispers, his hand slowly moving to cup your hand in his, his mouth opening as if he was going to say something.

But just then, the door to the café opened, and a tall, handsome man walked in drawing everyone's attention toward him. Your face lit up at the sight of him, and you waved him over excitedly, your hands leaving the boys cold and angry at the thought of someone else having your attention on them. Chan and Changbin tensed, their eyes narrowing as the newcomer approached, sizing him up as he smiled brightly at you.

"Hey, Y/N," the man greeted, leaning down to give you a quick kiss on the cheek. The sight alone had Changbin's grip tightening on his cup so hard his knuckles were starting to turn white. Chan on the other hand stared the new man down, his fists clenched so hard he was starting to draw blood from his hands.

"Sorry, I’m late." Your body heated up from the kiss and you turned to introduce him to your friends, their smiles were tight on their faces as they tried to fake how happy they were to see you around someone new.

"Guys, this is Alex. We’ve been seeing each other for a few weeks now." A heavy silence fell over the table and you stared at them both, waiting for one of them to say something, anything to let you know what they were thinking. Chan’s smile turned strained, while Changbin’s jaw clenched so hard you could swear you could see the vein in his neck twitching. They both managed to greet Alex politely, but their minds were racing, their hearts pounding with a mix of jealousy and rage.

There was no way this piece of shit with a rat-tail hairstyle was ever going to be good enough for you. He looked as if he lived in a caravan on the side of the road and you deserved someone better.

Someone who would make sure you never have to work a day in your life again, someone who would protect you and love you and never let a single hair on your head be hurt. The boys exchanged a silent look with one another, nodding as if having their only silent conversation about what needed to be done.

As the evening wore on, Chan and Changbin found it increasingly difficult to hide their growing obsession. They watched every interaction between you and Alex, their eyes darkening with each affectionate gesture, every small touch he gave you, every kiss or wink he sent your way had them reeling deeper into their rage. When Alex excused himself to use the restroom, Changbin leaned closer to you, whispering lowly in case anyone would hear them.

"So, how serious are things with Alex?" he asked, trying to keep his voice casual and nonchalant, you were used to him questioning your love life choices by now but somehow this seemed a little different. You shrugged, a dreamy smile on your lips.

"I really like him, Bin. He’s kind, funny, and... different from anyone I’ve ever met." There was a softness to your voice the boys had never even heard you used before which only further irritated them at the thought of someone other than them getting this kind of reaction out of you. Chan forced a smile, but inside, he felt a sharp pang of jealousy hitting him, images of Alex being hit by a car racing through his mind as he tried to shove them down.

"That’s great, Y/N. As long as you’re happy." He said through gritted teeth, your eyebrows knitted together as you looked at them, sensing something off in their demeanour.

"Are you guys okay? You seem... tense." You looked between them and Changbin quickly masked his emotions, giving you a reassuring smile as he nodded his head.

"We’re just worried about you, that’s all. We don’t want to see you get hurt, you know that." He smiles sweetly, rubbing his hand over your back as your expression softens a little.

"I appreciate that, really. But Alex’s a good guy. I think this could be something special." Before Chan or Changbin could respond, Alex returned, and the conversation shifted back to lighter topics as he sat down beside you and wrapped his arm around your shoulder. But the damage was done in their minds.

As the night ended and you all said your goodbyes, Chan and Changbin exchanged a knowing look as you walked off with Alex, his hand stuffed in the back jeans of your pocket.

"This can't go on," Chan said as he watched you, glaring at the way Alex tugged you closer to his body and kissed you deeply. They had to act and they had to do it a lot quicker than they had thought. They couldn’t stand by and watch you slip away from them, not when you were theirs.

The night air was crisp and cold as you stepped out of the hospital, the bright lights from inside a striking difference to the complete darkness of the parking lot. Seriously, the hospital needed to fix the staff parking area, it looked eery to even just be standing by the door right now.

It almost felt as though you had eyes watching you at every single second but from what you could see - which wasn't a lot since the lights in the parking lot were busted - wasn't a lot. But you knew for a fact Alex wasn't there like he'd told you he was going to be.

Sighing to yourself, you pulled your coat tighter around your body, shivering slightly as you glanced at your phone for the tenth time in the last minute. It was nearly midnight, and Alex was supposed to pick you up over an hour ago and yet there wasn't a single text to let you know he was running late or if he was even going to bother showing up.

Everything had been fine between the two of you that morning, you'd said goodbye and asked him to pick you up, to which he agreed, even telling you he would bring your favourite takeout after your night of hard work which was why this didn't make sense. Every other time he picked you up, he'd been on time and even if he was a minute late he'd let you know.

With growing unease, you dialled his number again, pressing the phone to your ear, listening as you waited for it to ring but it didn't. The call went straight to voicemail, his voice filling your ears only making your worry grow deeper inside of you. Frustration and worry gnawed at you as you softly let out a sigh and shook your head, leaving yet another message.

"Alex, where are you? You were supposed to pick me up. Please call me back. I'm getting worried." You spoke into the phone before ending the call and soughed, looking around the nearly deserted lot. The only sounds were the distant hum of traffic and the occasional rustling of leaves in the wind. You needed to get home, you were in desperate need of a shower, food and your bed. God, you could practically hear your bed screaming for you to get home.

You waited ten more minutes before deciding you couldn’t wait any longer for Alex with no reply, so you headed towards the bus stop at the edge of the parking lot, your footsteps echoing in the eerie silence. Usually, you'd slip on some headphones but there was something clawing inside of your chest telling you tonight was not the night for that. It was too dark, too quiet for something to distract you, you needed to be aware of everything going on around you.

As you got toward the edge of the parking lot, almost near the bright lights of civilization, you heard a faint noise behind you, like a footstep on gravel. Your heart skipped a beat, and you spun around, your eyes scanning the shadows for any sign that something or someone was there.

"Hello? Is someone there?" You called out, your voice trembling slightly and letting whoever was there know you were clearly anxious about this whole thing. There was no response, only the oppressive silence of the night.

You shook your head, telling yourself it was just your imagination and the horror movies you'd watched earlier in the week playing tricks on you, and quickened your pace. The bus stop wasn’t far, and you just needed to get there and wait for the next bus, it wouldn't take that long since they seemed to pass by faster since it was a hospital. You clutched your phone tightly, ready to call Alex again, hoping he would answer this time and help you relax, even just a little.

Another noise, this time closer. You froze, your breath catching in your throat, there was no way that the noise was in your head this time. Trying to seem as casual as possible you turned slowly, your eyes wide with fear, but the lot appeared empty. You took a cautious step backwards, your instincts screaming at you to run, to sprint toward the nearest building to find someone - anyone - to be with so you weren't alone.

Suddenly, a strong arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you back into the shadows. A hand clamped over your mouth, muffling your scream as you frailed around in their arms, struggling fiercely, kicking and thrashing, but your captor was too strong. You did your best to get out of the grasp, to at least see whoever it was attacking you, you did everything you could. Dragging your nails through their skin to get their DNA,

"Shit, I never should have taught her that move." A voice said from behind you, as the man holding you shook your body softly,

"Shh, Y/N," A familiar voice whispered in your ear, sending a wave of terror through you, whoever it was knew your name but that didn't put you at ease, if anything it only managed to make you panic more.

"It's just us." The voice said again. Your eyes widened in shock and recognition as Changbin stepped into view, his calm, cold gaze fixed on you. Your thrashing came to a stop as you realised it must have been their idea of a sick joke, just playing a trick on you to remind you never to walk alone.

"We’re here to take you home, Y/N," He said softly, his tone soothing yet chilling as he ran his hand over your cheek and gently removed the tear that had slipped from your eyes but something felt off. This wasn't like them, they'd never do something so terrifying to you. Changbin tightened his grip, his breath hot against your ear making your whole body shudder as you began to struggle against his grasp again.

"Stop struggling, Y/N. We won’t hurt you. We just can’t let you be with him anymore." Panic surged through you as you realized the full extent of your predicament. Your friends—no, your captors—had been planning this for god knows how long and all because you'd been dating someone they didn't approve of.

You fought harder, trying to scream, but Chan quickly produced a cloth and pressed it to your face, your eyes locking with his in a desperate silent plea for him to stop whatever it was they were doing to you. The sickly sweet smell of chloroform filled your nose, and your vision blurred, your body suddenly feeling too heavy to move as you threw your back against Changbin, whimpering softly doing everything you could to fight back against the tiredness looming over your head.

"Just relax, Y/N," Chan murmured, his voice distant as the darkness closed in, his fingers soothing over your cheeks as tears continued to fall.

"Everything will be okay. You belong with us." He whispers softly, almost as though he is fully convinced that you belong to the two of them. Your struggles weakened, your limbs finally growing too heavy for you to control and you slumped against Changbin's chest. The last thing you saw before losing consciousness was Chan’s cold, determined expression and Changbin’s possessive gaze.

"She put up a good fight," Chan chuckles as he and Changbin carry you toward their car, sitting you up in the back seat to make it seem as though you were merely sleeping peacefully after a long shift.

"Easy for you to say, she didn't bash your chest with her head and claw into your skin," Changbin grumbled as he looked down at his forearms which were nod cut up and bleeding, not that it was worse than anything else he'd experienced.

"Relax, we'll clean you up back home and clean out her nails before anything can be done," Chan assured him, rubbing his best friend's shoulder softly. He knew Changbin had his reservations about doing this but it was simply needed after he'd heard you and Alex planning on a holiday away together and he knew it wouldn't be enough to make Alex disappear.

They had to make sure you saw how good they were for you, how much better they were for you than anyone else in the world.

"Ride in the back in case she wakes up," Chan said as he slipped the cloth he'd covered your mouth with into Changbin's hand and slid into the driver's side of the car. Changbin quickly shuffled into the car beside you, laying your head on his shoulder as he ran his fingers over your arms soothingly.

"It's all going to be okay now, Yn." He whispers as the car pulls off out of the parking lot and out of the city. Far away enough you'd never have a chance in hell of finding someone to help you, and far away enough the boys would be able to keep you under close surveillance.

The sound of metal running across metal is what woke you up, your head pounding as you slowly opened your eyes and squinted at the room you were currently sitting in. It was dark, the only light coming in was from a barred window in front of you, you tried to move only to whimper as you felt your leg being held back by something.

"Morning princess," Chan smirks as he stares down at you, he starts to worry the dose he'd given you might have been a little too strong but it seemed okay right now.

"Morning Sunshine," Changbin says with a bright smile, your eyes scanned them both as you wondered what the fuck they were doing with you.

"Did you get a good night's sleep love? We hope so." Chan stated as he sat down across from you, a giant uneasy smile spreading across his lips.

"Where...Where am I?" Your voice was hoarse from how long you'd been out, the lack of water evident in your voice which was something they were going to need to remedy right away.

"Don't worry about where you are, princess. You're right where you need to be, don't-" As you pulled against the chains, Chain pins it to the floor,

"Don't pull on the fucking chains." Chan spits out angrily making you flinch at the sudden force coming from him, you'd never seen him this way before.

"The more you fight the tighter they're going to get, it's better not to fight it," Changbin says softly as he looks down at your ankle. He told Chan there was no need to chain you up like an animal, that if the two of them treated you like a human then you would be more receptacle toward them about everything.

"Why chain me up... what's going on? if this is your idea of a fucking joke, it's far from funny!" You hissed at them, staring around the room and trying to gauge where you were. It certainly wasn't their apartment since it appeared to be some kind of basement you were in. Their apartment building basement was filled with washing machines and this one?

This one was cold and empty, besides a couple of boxes, a stack of metal shelving and some blankets your eyes glossed over before they found Chan's again.

"It's not a joke, princess." He reaches out to the chains and smirks as he sees how strong they are, and they have to be. There was no chance they were going to let you go now that they finally had you all to themselves.

"These are to keep you docile," You went to kick with your free leg into his gut but missed, letting out a groan as you felt your other leg tug against the wall. You could have sworn you felt your chained ankle crack but you didn't dare think about it right now.

"I see the drugs have finally worn off." Chan chuckles as he takes your leg into his touch and gently lays it down on the floor. You shook your head at him, clearly not finding any of this a laughing matter.

"This isn't funny." You grumble at him, wondering where they thought of this whole idea.

"No, it's not because it's not a joke." Chan sizzles at you, his eyes flashing with anger and you did your best not to shrink away from him.

"You're going to be okay, now. You're here with us." Changbin said soothingly, his voice a stark contrast compared to Chan's anger beside you.

"You belong to us," Chan says with a smile, running his fingers across your cheek.

"What- What are you guys talking about? I don't belong to anyone, I'm a human, not some fucking toy!" You screamed, battling against the chains once again and whimpering as they dug into your skin.

"I guess we do owe you an explanation," Changbin whispers as he moves closer to you, his hand reaching out to the chain but you pull away from him. Not trusting a single thing either of them were doing right now.

Changbin had imagined this going so much smoother than this right now, Chan, however, had planned for every single outcome possible. Even your inevitable attempt to escape. He was never going to let you get away from them.

"When we first laid eyes on you, we were captivated by your beauty...we tried to fight it but fuck it's been so hard," Changbin whispers as he looks at you, his eyes filled with love as he spoke.

"We knew we had to have you." Chan finished as he smiled down at you,

"Guys." You pleaded, shaking your head at them. This had to be some kind of sick dream you were having. It was the only explanation.

"You would never fucking go for us though, would you? You only wanted the fucking arseholes who would leave you heartbroken and crying to us." Chan's voice shifted back to anger as you swallowed nervously, your eyes studying his face.

"We knew you'd never give us a chance so we were going to have to make you see how better we are for you, how much better things will be if you give yourself over to us," Changbin stated, your head snapping his direction.

"Please...s-stop whatever this is. I won't tell anyone, please!" You beg them struggling once again but Changbin wrapped himself around you, holding you in place as he shook his head.

"Don't cry, we promise we won't hurt you...as long as you behave of course," He whines, stroking your arms as you struggle to get him off you.

"You're insane." You sniffle, tears falling down your face as you stare at the two of them. Changbin knelt beside Chan as they watched you together, their heads tilting in perfect sync making your whole body shiver in fear.

"No! No, we're not! You fucking belong with us! And no matter how long it takes you're going to stay here until you get it. We love you, Yn!" Chan reasons with you, running his hand up and down your ankle as you shake your head at him.

"We do! We love you, we've always loved you and we can't let anyone come between us anymore." Changbin stated and your head began to clear a little. Alex.

Your one saving grace was your boyfriend. There was no way he was going to just accept you never speaking to him again, especially after all of the voicemails you'd left him on his phone.

"Alex will...he'll figure it out and I'm not working, everyone will call the police." You whispered to them but they didn't seem to care. Chan simply shrugged his shoulders at you with a coy smile on his lips.

"Already handled love," Chan smirks at you, he was a mastermind when it came to thinking in advance and he'd already devised a plan so no one would come looking.

"Changbin, play it." He ordered but Changbin stood perfectly still, refusing to move.

"I-I don't think it's a good idea, she's still fragile and I-"

"PLAY THE DAMN THING!" Chan's voice practically bounced off the walls as Changbin took out his phone and hit play on the video that was there.

"Hey, it's me. I know this is last minute and everything but I need to take some time off. I'm throwing in my holiday days, my mental health is shot to shit right now and I just need some time, thanks." It was your voice but you'd never recorded it, you'd never even strung a sentence together.

"Amazing what AI can do these days, right?" Chan smirks as he leans down, his face inches away from yours.

"You're safe here, princess," he whispers but you slap him across the face, his cheek turning pink but he doesn't even wince, he just smirks down at you. The fucker smirked as if this was something he found funny.

"Are you hungry, princess?" He asked softly, moving back and slowly standing up as you stared up at him. This wasn't the same man you'd gone to college with, this was someone else, the Chan you knew would never treat a single person like this,

"I can make those English muffins you like, or pancakes, or some cupcakes." Changbin offered getting more and more excited with each suggestion he gave to you, he was clearly the softer one of the two of them in this whole thing.

"Let me go." You begged him, your eyes finding his as he frowned at you and shook his head.

"Baby, you don't get it, do you? You're safe here. This is the best place for you, we're only doing this because we love you." You struggle against the chains, screaming out but all it seemed to do was make the two of them laugh at your struggles.

"T-This isn't love! it's fucking madness!" You scream at them both, sighing a little Changbin shakes his head at you, his voice soft yet determined at the same time,

"We know it seems that way now, but you'll see. We've been watching over you, protecting you. We couldn't stand the thought of you being with someone else, someone who doesn't understand you the way we do." He promises you as you stare at him, your eyebrows furrowed together, pulling the chains once again.

"That's no use anyway, princess. We're in the middle of nowhere." Chan mentioned coldly,

"Y-you're s-so...so-"

"Handsome? Sweet? your hero?" He smirks as he runs his hands over your cheek, his thumb rubbing your bottom lip but you sink your teeth into his thumb and he yells out jumping away from you,

"You're safe with us, okay? We're not going to let anything happen to you. You might not see it now but it's true, baby, I promise." Changbin smiles, nodding his head at you as if trying to convince you of what he is saying while Chan nurses his thumb in the background.

After a couple of moments of silence, you stared at them both, deciding you needed answers from them both and if you were chained with no escape you needed to ask them.

"Where am I?" You whispered, defeatedly,

"Home." Chan smiles with a breath of relief, your eyes scan the room again, this isn't your home. It would never be your home.

"This isn't my home." You grumbled at them, folding your arms across your chest,

"No, you're right. This is your new home." Chan said as he stared down at you, his arms mirroring yours as he watched you closely wondering why you'd suddenly become calmer than before.

"We had to take you, we had to keep you safe...to protect you," Changbin says softly,

"From who!? The two psychos in front of me who kidnapped me?!" You screamed at them both, making Chan smirk. He knew your fight was still in there somewhere and it only made him more attracted to you,

"We didn't just take you on a whim, yn. We've seen how others treat you, how they don't appreciate you. We do. We know what you need, and what makes you happy. We can give you a life free from the pain and disappointment.". You struggled against the chain but as they said it only got tighter and you stared down at your ankle which was swelling and bleeding already.

"G-Get me out of the chains and I'll be good, I promise." You pleaded, Changbin's stomach twisted as he wanted to give in to you but Chan held him in place.

“First things first- you need to eat. And drink water. You were out for over 24 hours," He eyed you up and then looked down at his watch.

"And I know for a fact you hadn’t had anything to eat the day we saved you, you never eat properly when you're at work, which is another reason we saved you, princess. I’ll be right back… behave. I’ll only be a minute.” He smiles before making his way toward a small set of wooden steps and out of the door. You stared over at Changbin who was kneeling down by your ankle and trying to clear the blood away, wincing whenever you let out a small hiss,

"Binnie, please." You pleaded with him, your eyes boring into his as he held onto your ankle.

"Yn."

"Binnie, it's me. I won't run, j-just let me out of the chains and I promise I'll be good, please." You begged, neither of you noticing that the door had happened once again and Chan was joining you.

“That’s enough of that. He's not going to help you." Chan said sternly as he placed down a tray on the floor beside you, a bottle of water next to you as Changbin moved away from you.

“Here, you’re probably dying of thirst..." Chan lifted the bottle to your lips as you took the water greedily not even stopping to think that something could be laced in it. It just felt good to soothe your throat with something. As much as you didn't want to admit it, he was right about you being thirsty,

“Good girl. Feeling better?” He smiles down at you, the sight making your stomach turn as you stare at him. Someone you had once regarded as one of your best friends suddenly felt like a stranger to you now.

“Your stomach might feel upset right now so I brought you some toast with your favourite jam,” Changbin said as he looked at the plate Chan had prepared for you. For weeks now they'd been getting the house ready for you, getting all of your favourite snacks and food items in the house.

"I’m not hungry," You grumble, looking at the toast and then at Changbin who seemed visibly upset at the thought of you disregarding his food so quickly.

"You need to eat something.” He pouts, sitting across from you as Chan watched you closely for any sign you might act out or smack Changbin the way you'd smacked him,

"No, I'm not-"

“This is not a negotiation, princess,” Chan growls out, you stare at him as you shake your head at him, refusing to eat anything.

"Answer some questions and I might," You whispered, you knew you had no leg to stand on demanding something from them but you were still going to try.

“I’m not answering any questions until you eat at least half of one piece. Fair?” Chan stated as he stared at the plate in front of you, Changbin smiled as you nodded your head and he slowly lifted the toast to your lips.

Begrudgingly you began to nibble on the toast hating the fact that it was the best thing you could ever want right now. The only thing your body seemed to be craving since waking up here.

"You can do better than that, baby. Come on- you have to be hungry." Changbin encourages, holding the toast up once again before you bite into it. Eating half of the slice before moving away from him.

"Thank you, baby, see? Isn’t that better?” Changbin smiles at you as you stare at him, laying your head back against the wall behind you, the same wall you were now chained to for god knows how long.

"Why am I here?" you demanded, your voice cold and distant as Chan sighed at you, it was going to be a long night if you insisted on going over the same question again and again with them both.

"I told you that already.”

"Protection? But that doesn't make sense. I've been fine living my life for years," Your voice came out strained as you stared at them, hoping they would see how stupid this all was for them to be doing.

“Yes, princess. Protection from yourself. I know you have certain… bad habits. Dating people that aren't good for you, not feeding yourself properly, among other things." He glares down at you.

"I'm fine." Your lie slipped out easier than you'd expected it to but you didn't want to justify their sick and twisted means.

“Don’t lie to us!” This time it was Changbin who raised his voice making you flinch a little. You'd never once heard Changbin raise his voice at anyone, let alone you.

"We know that you skip meals any chance you get, claiming it was work that got you too busy for it," Changbin grumbles, frustrated at the thought of you refusing to eat.

"How do you know that?" Your voice dropped a little as you stared at them both. Skipping meals was something you kept to yourself, something no one knew about you.

"We're your best friends, we know everything," Chan says with a sweet smile but you didn't feel like their best friend right now.

“You have us now. We're going to take care of you, we're going to make sure you're safe, healthy, and happy.” Changbin says as he runs his hands over your cheek,

"You could have done this when we were back in the city...You didn't need to do all of this." You whisper, trying to appeal to any sense of rationality that might have risen inside of them.

"You wouldn't have listened. At least here, we can control how you listen to us. We can care for you here," Chan smiles and you stare at him, opening your mouth to ask him one more question.

"No more answers until you finish the food." He spat out at you but you threw the plate to the other side of the room, watching as it shattered and the glass poured down on a bunch of old blankets that were sitting there.

“Alright, you listen to me... Shit like that isn’t going to fly. If you ever want to leave this room again you will fucking behave!" Chan shook your shoulders roughly, your eyes cold as you stared back at him.

"I only have a few rules, one of which is that you eat. Three meals a day." He states angrily,

"I'm not going to eat anything! You can go fuck yourself-"

“That’s enough!” He yells sharply at you, his eyes burning into your face. Your body was shaking at this point as you stared back at him, willing to fight him at every hurdle.

"You will eat, and you will not fucking throw ANYTHING. Do I make myself clear?!" When you say nothing he screams it once again,

"DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?!" You nod frantically at him and the angry persona vanishes almost as quickly as it had appeared. The shift giving you whiplash.

"Since you declined to eat, we'll leave you for the rest of the night,

"Chan-" Changbin begs but he's quickly cut off by his counterpart,

"WE will LEAVE." Chan grits out and you stare at them as they make their way to the stairs, Changbin looking at you apologetically as you slowly pull at the cuffs.

“Do not pull at the cuff," Changbin said sweetly as he looked over at you one last time.

"It’s not going to break and there’s no way out of this room anyway. It's easier not to fight him," He added before heading out of the room, the door bolting shot behind the two of them leaving you staring at the pile of blankets in the corner of the room.

The night drew closer and your body began to shiver, you'd been desperately trying to reach for a blanket from the pile on the other side of the room but your chain wasn't quite long enough for you to reach it with,

"Yn?" Your eyes shot over to the stairs as you saw Chan making his way down to you. Of course, he was. Chan could never sleep on the best of days and you doubted he could when he had a woman trapped in his basement.

"I-I wasn't trying to get out! I was-" You stopped when you noticed the comforter in his hands, he laid it down on the floor beside your chains, followed by a pillow and a thick-looking blanket. You stared down at them, wondering what he was doing.

"Here," Changbin states as he quickly comes into the room, holding a lantern and a cup of hot chocolate, sitting down beside the comforter and handing you the mug of hot chocolate. Something he knew you always liked to drink on the nights you found yourself unable to sleep.

"How do I know you didn't drug it?" You bite out at him, Changbin stares at you as he takes a long sip and swallows the contents in front of you.

"I understand the need for distrust, but we'd never hurt you Yn," Changbin said as you sat down on the blanket, letting the warm cup warm your hands up as you stared down at the brown liquid.

"We've dreamed of a life with you, yn. A life where we can protect you, cherish you, and keep you safe from all the hurt. We can be everything you need." Chan whispers as he runs his hand over your ankle, gently cleaning up the dried blood from your earlier struggles, you hissed a little looking at him.

"But I don't need this. I need my freedom, my life back." You whispered, tears spilling over as you stared at him. Your heart ached with a mix of fear and confusion, you didn't know what you'd ever done to make them think this was okay.

"In time, you'll understand. You'll see that what we're offering is real, that our love is pure. We can make you happy, Yn. Happier than anyone else ever could." He whispers, finishing the job on your ankle before you stare at Changbin, wishing he would just snap out of whatever trance Chan seemed to have him under and get you out of there. Changbin's eyes found yours,

"Please, Yn. Give us a chance. Let us show you how much we care. We can't lose you. Not now, not ever." His voice broke slightly as he spoke and you stared at him. Your head was a whirlwind of emotions as you studied the two of them.

It was clear to you how deep their obsession was with you, how intense they felt about you and it fucking terrified you, shook you to your core and yet somewhere. Deep inside of you, there was a small part, nagging at you, wondering if maybe they were right and that you could, truly be happy with them here.

"You need to sleep," Chan said as he rose to his feet, taking the only light source with him as he headed for the stairs.

"N-No! No! Please! Please don't leave me down here!" You begged, struggling against the chain again and whimpering as Changbin followed after Chan. The door once again bolted shut behind them leaving you crying on the floor.

As the days passed you found yourself caught up in their webs, struggling to find a way out while they constantly tried to show you love and support telling you how much better off you were with them rather than out in the world. Your heart pounded with a mix of fear and disbelief. You knew you had to find a way out, to escape their twisted version of love. But as the days turned into weeks, you found yourself there, tangled in their web deeper and deeper.

"What's this?" You whispered as Chan led you through the hallway of their home, your eyes scanning over everything that was there trying to commit everything to memory. If you could get away you needed to remember everything, to describe everything to the police about where you were and what the place looked like.

They'd taken you on a small tour of the home, mostly to show you that there was no way of escaping. Most of the doors were bolted and padlocked and the windows were all barred up, a personal prison in the shape of a warm home.

"Your room," Changbin states as he slides the door open, revealing an exact replica of your bedroom back home. Your heart lept into your throat as you stared around at everything.

It was as if they'd moved your bedroom to here, that's how identical it was.

"When did you do all of this?" You whispered, your eyes finding theirs. Ever since a few days ago, they'd started talking about letting you upstairs, claiming you'd earned enough trust from them to finally be let out of the basement and you were going to use that to your advantage.

If they trusted you more there was more chance of you getting out of there.

"We've planned this for a long time Yn," Changbin smiles, the mere sentence should have made you want to vomit but the sick and twisted part of you made you want to giggle at the thought of them putting this much effort in for you. What's wrong with me?

"You have to realise, princess, we’re not your enemies, We love you. Everything we’re doing is for you." Chan spoke sweetly, running his hand over your lower back.

"This isn't love, this is imprisonment." You whispered dryly, sinking down onto the bed as you watched the two of them. Changbin's expression softened when he saw your distress, the last thing he wanted was for you to resent this room. He'd worked so hard on it. He approached slowly, kneeling beside you, running his hand over your knee softly as he looked at you.

"Sunshine, we know it’s hard to understand now, but we’re protecting you. You’ll see that in time." He whispers. That was always their answer whenever you bought it up, "in time" you hated this. You wanted your own life back.

"I just want my life back." Your voice cracked as fresh tears began to fall, and you quickly covered your mouth. Changbin’s jaw tightened, and he exchanged a glance with Chan.

"We are your life now, Yn. And we promise, we’ll make you happy." Chan tells you with so much conviction you almost believe him, your eyes finding his as you whimper a little.

"You're tired and in desperate need of a shower, princess." He stands up and walks toward a door inside of the bedroom, opening it to reveal a small ensuite room waiting for you.

"I filled it with those facemasks you love so much," He states as Changbin gently walks you toward the door, his hand softly waiting on your waist as you stare inside of the bathroom.

There was a giant tub inside, a glass door surrounding it with a shower above. A white toilet and sink with a mirror above it. Chan was standing beside the sink and a set of little drawers, each of them holding everything you would ever need.

"There are no shavers though," Chan stated as he stared at you,

"We didn't want you to risk you using them against us," He winked at you but you stared at him wondering why he was so worried when it was clear that there was glass in the room. Your eyes scanned over the door and mirror before looking back at Chan,

"The glass on the door and shower could easily be shattered," You stated, not that you'd ever do that to hurt them, you didn't have the guts to.

"Already thought of that, princess. I'm not just a pretty face," He chuckles making his way to the shower door and rattling it softly,

"Shatterproof glass and an earthquake-proof mirror." He winks, poking his finger against the mirror and sure enough it bent making you nod at him. They'd really thought of everything when it came down to this.

"Don't worry, princess. I thought of everything," He whispers as he stands by your side, kissing the top of your head before leaving you alone to shower, Changbin shifting following behind him.

"Wait-" You beg, running after them. Almost slipping on the floor but Changbin caught you in his arms, making sure you were steady before finally letting you stand alone.

"Please...Don't lock me in," You whisper, staring at the bedroom door that has a giant padlock on it. You couldn't stomach the thought of being trapped in here, the basement had been torture. Sleeping in complete darkness with no way out.

"Princess..." Chan whispers, his voice dragging out the pet name for you.

"I won't try and run. I promise, please...p-please just don't lock it." You beg, your hands holding onto his tightly as he studied you for a second. It was clear by your pleading that you needed the door unlocked and he nodded his head. Besides, he would be in the room outside in case you did, but part of him trusted you not to try and run. His eyes landed on Changbin who simply nodded his head at him, there was no chance of you getting out.

Every exit was secured, the keys were around the boy's necks and there was no chance of you getting close enough to them from either of them.

"Fine, we're going to prepare dinner. When you're ready, come out into the kitchen," Chan speaks softly as you nod your head at him slowly taking your hands back.

"Do you remember where that is, sunshine?" Changbin whispered, your eyes finding his as you smiled weakly and nodded your head. It was down the hall from your bedroom, it was also the only room in the house with a door they hadn't shown you the other side of. You assumed it was the back garden Chan had briefly mentioned.

As the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, you were starting to realize that breaking free wasn't going to be something easy that could be achieved. It was something you were going to have to work hard at.

You'd spent the last few months convincing them that they could trust you to be outside in the gardens with them. You chose that time to learn every single layout of the garden trying to see if there was ever going to be a way out of there for you. But from what you could see everything was woods surrounding the home and you wondered where and when they'd even found this place since it seemed to secluded. 

You once again found yourself in the garden, the only place where she could feel a semblance of freedom. The sun was burning down on top of you but you didn't care how hot it was, it was the first real taste of freedom you'd had all week and you were choosing to enjoy it to the best of your abilities. 

The flowers and greenery provided a small comfort to you, your own little peaceful place in the gardens. Your own twist on the home that the guys were providing you with. You weren't sure when you'd started referring to the prison as your home but it was something you found yourself doing more and more as of late.

Chan and Changbin watched you from a distance, their eyes never leaving your body, whenever you moved they moved. You'd had stopped trying to escape, but Chan still wasn't sure about everything. There was something about you accepting it so easily that made him uneasy. Instead, you seemed to be focused on small acts of rebellion, like refusing to speak or eat. Going days on end without eating and only drinking whenever they asked you to was something that got to them a lot. Though you might have trusted them they didn't want anything to happen to you, or to hurt you. This was all for your own good.

As you tended to the flowers, Changbin approached you with a watering can, stopping a couple of paces behind so he wouldn't spook you too much. 

"Need some help?" he asked, his tone gentle. You glanced at him, your expression guarded. 

"I can do it myself." You whispered a little as he placed the watering can on the floor by your feet. Changbin smiled, a genuine warmth in his eyes, it had been so long since you'd spoken to him that he was just happy to hear it, even if it was a snarky remark. Truth be told, he missed you snapping at him, he missed you talking to him, he just missed you and he'd do anything to get you back to him.

"I know you can. But sometimes, it’s nice to have someone else around." He knew how much you hated being alone, he'd always been the one to comfort you in that sense. Hesitating for a moment you looked at him then nodded slightly. 

"Fine." You mumbled a little, looking away from him as you continued to tend to the flowers. The boys had bought you everything you needed to plant them, even bringing you everything you asked for and more whenever you asked for it.

As you worked side by side in silence, you found yourself appreciating his presence, despite your anger and fear, it was nice to have someone there with you. Chan joined the two of you, carrying a pitcher of lemonade as he knelt down on the grass patch just at the side of you, he'd been watching for a while and felt himself jealous of the connection you had with Changbin.

He knew deep down it was because Changbin was the softer one out of the two of them but he couldn't help but want to have you be so calm around him also. 

"Thought you might be thirsty," he said, handing you a glass. You took it reluctantly your fingers touching Chan's and sending a small tingle up and down your body. You nodded softly, sipping the cool drink. You hated how your captors could be so caring and attentive, how they knew exactly what you liked and hated when it came to everything in your life. It made it harder to maintain your anger with them as the more you stayed here, the more you felt yourself slipping.

"Thank you," you muttered, hating yourself for the small concession between the three of you. How could you stand to stay here? There was no fence keeping you in the garden. It would be a case of getting lost in the woods but that was better than staying here, right? Chan smiled, his eyes lighting up when you thanked him. 

"We just want you to be happy, Yn." He whispers, sending a shiver down your spine. Finally hitting home that you needed to get out of there. You felt yourself falling for all of their tricks.

The sun had just begun to set, casting long shadows across the sprawling estate, you'd somehow convinced them that you wanted to watch the sunset and they'd agreed with you. Maybe they trusted you more than you realised but once they'd gone into the house to fetch you a blanket you took off. Sprinting in the direction of a set of dense trees hoping it would be too compact for either of them to see you in the night.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you sprinted through the overgrown trees at the edge of the property, your hands scraping along the trunks as you pushed yourself through them all. You didn't care that you were scratching up your legs and your hands, all you cared about was getting out of there. With every step, you felt a flicker of hope, a chance at freedom just within reach, you could almost taste it as you saw lights coming from further down. Other people had to be around somewhere. You just had to find them.

Branches scratched at your skin, and the underbrush snagged your clothes, but you didn't care, all you cared about was getting out of there. You pushed forward, your breath coming in ragged gasps, your mind focused solely on getting away. You could see the faint outline of the main road through the trees and knew that if you could just make it there, you might find help. There had to be cars passing by sometimes, even if it was late.

But suddenly, a strong hand grabbed your arm, yanking you back. You let out a cry, twisting and struggling, but the grip was unyielding as you were bought into someone's chest.

"Yn, stop!" Chan's voice was firm, yet laced with worry. He pulled you closer, holding you tightly as you fought against him, his fingers running down your face gently as you struggled against him.

"No! Let me go!" You screamed, tears streaming down your face, you'd been so close to getting out of there, it was just within fingers' reach.

"I need to get out of here! I can't do this anymore!" you were finally at your boiling point of everything. You couldn't stay in the same place forever or you were going to lose your mind.

Chan's expression softened at your pleading, but his hold remained firm. While he wanted you to be happy he knew that if he let you go, you'd end up hurting yourself or getting into more danger. The world was a scary place and they were doing everything they could to protect you from it.

"Yn, please. You're going to hurt yourself." His breath was hot on your ear, and you could hear Changbin approaching you both. His eyes landed on your body which was already cut from the branches and he felt his heart breaking at the sight of you.

"I don't care! I can't stay here!" Your voice broke, desperation and fear spilling over as you thrashed around. Chan sighed, his eyes filled with sorrow at the sight of you. Just when they thought you were finally making progress with them you went and threw it all away. 

"We only want to keep you safe. Running away like this... it's dangerous. You could get lost, hurt, or worse." You glared at him, your body trembling with anger and fear as you shook your head at him. 

"I'd rather take my chances out there than stay here with you."

His face hardened slightly at your words, but he quickly masked his frustration with a calm facade, running his fingers over your cheek to remove the blood that was staining your cheeks. 

"I understand you're upset, Yn. But this isn't the way. Come back with me, and we can talk about it." He promises as you stare at him. Truth be told, you were tired from not eating for the last few days and exhaustion overtaking your will to fight. There was no use fighting the two of them alone in the woods. They were right, any chance you had of escaping would get you lost or dead in the woods by whatever animals lurked there. 

Slumping against him, you gave up. Your tears flowed freely as you realised you were really stuck with them. 

"Why can't you just let me go?" You whispered, it was evident from your demeanour that every fight you had in you had finally left.

Chan's arms enveloped you in a tight embrace, his voice a soft whisper in your ear as Changbin moved to stand in from of you. 

"Because we love you too much to lose you. We'll do whatever it takes to make you see that." Chan whispered before he gently lifted you into his arms, carrying you back towards the house. Your head rested on his shoulder as you watched Changbin who was studying you with a softened gaze.

"Will you let me clean you up when you're in your room?" Changbin whispered to you, looking at your face and hands which were covered in blood and bleeding pretty badly. Nodding your head slowly you shut your eyes, giving in to them.

One evening, you found yourself sitting in the living room with Chan and Changbin, you were sitting between the two of them while they held a bowl of popcorn in one hand and a bunch of sweets in another. They had put on a movie, one of your favourites, hoping to create a sense of normalcy for you. You'd mentioned to Changbin last week how badly you wanted to watch movies again like you all used to and he'd told Chan he was going to make it happen. 

As the film played, your mind wandered, torn between your need to escape and the growing, unwanted affection you were starting to feel for them both. You stared down at your hands. Ever since you'd gotten here they'd been nothing but kind to you, which was the basic bare minimum a guy could do for you and yet? You found yourself enjoying it.

Every morning you woke up to them cooking for you, bringing you breakfast in bed or just letting you cook. Here, you had the freedom to do whatever you wanted without the worries of work getting to you and you knew that the two of them would never do anything to hurt you.

Changbin noticed your distraction first and leaned in closer to you and gently placed a hand on your shoulder, his thumb moving in soft smooth circles. 

"What’s on your mind, Yn?" His voice came out in a whisper, trying not to distract Chan who seemed thoroughly engrossed in the moving playing on the TV. You looked at him, your eyes filled with confusion and pain, you didn't understand any of this and you certainly didn't understand why your heart and mind were starting to tell you that all of this was somehow okay. 

"I don’t understand how I can hate you so much and still... feel something for you." Your voice cracked a little as you spoke earning a surprised look from both of them as Chan paused the movie and leaned forward, his expression intense as he locked eyes with you. 

"That’s because deep down, you know we truly love you. We’ve done everything to make you feel loved and safe and you're finally coming to terms with it." The smile on his face was sweet, something that weeks ago would have made you sick to the stomach but instead had your chest fluttering around like this was some kind of dark romance novel you were reading.

"But it’s wrong," you whispered, your voice once again breaking. 

"You took me away from everything I knew." Part of you hated them for it but another, small, part of you thanked them for it. Without the stress of work clouding over you, you don't have to stress about day-to-day tasks. You had all of the time in the world to do everything you ever wanted. 

Changbin’s eyes softened, and he squeezed your hand, your fingers automatically lacing with his sending his heart into overdrive. This was the first time you'd ever willingly touched them both and he watched as you laced your other hand with Chan's. 

"We know it’s hard, Yn. But you're already starting to see that this is where you belong." He whispered, both of them squeezing your hands softly and you were quick to pull away, tears streaming down your face as you shook your head at them. 

"I don’t know if I can ever forgive you." You sobbed softly. Chan’s expression hardened slightly, a flicker of frustration in his eyes but he wasn't going to let you know it was getting to him. This needed to be a safe space for you to vent to them both. 

"You will, Yn. Because we’re not giving up on you. Ever." He promises, lifting your hand to his lips and gently leaving a small kiss on your skin, your whole body on fire from the small interaction.

"I think I want to go to bed," You whispered, slowly rising from the sofa, both their eyes on you as you began to make your way over to the bedroom door. The lock was removed the week after you proved to the boys you weren't going to run and they took it off, proving to you that they trusted you.

The soft glow of the moon filtered through the curtains in your bedroom, casting gentle shadows on the walls letting you see all of the photos that lay on the walls. Each frame was a photo of you and the guys before they had taken you hostage. You lay in bed, the blankets pulled up to your chin, your mind a whirl of thoughts and emotions as you battled your head and your heart, trying to keep yourself sane. You'd excused yourself from the movie night hours ago, but you couldn’t seem to find sleep, you tossed and turned in your bed as you tried to bring yourself to a state of relaxation but it seemed damn near impossible.

You turned onto your side, staring at the framed photo on your bedside table. It was a picture of the three of them, taken during a day trip to the Busan one day before you were brought here. Your smiles were bright, your eyes filled with joy, you'd realised that day you'd had a crush on both of your friends but you were never going to do anything about it since you hadn't wanted to stop your friendship. 

In the beginning, you had fought against your captivity with every ounce of strength you had. You had despised them, feared them but slowly, your resistance had faded, replaced by a reluctant acceptance, and then something more. You found yourself enjoying all of this, enjoying spending so much time with the two people that made you feel the most loved in all of the world. Staring at the ceiling as memories flooded your mind, floating past you like they were images and videos running in the back of your mind. Chan’s gentle touch, Changbin’s warm embrace, and the way they looked at you with such intense love and devotion. They had become your whole world, your everything. But at what cost?

It was love—real, unequivocal love. You loved them, both of them, with a fierceness that frightened you. You'd never felt anything like this in your life before and now you were ready to throw everything away so you could stay with them.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you whispered into the darkness hoping if you confessed it to no one, then your mind would relax and you would finally get some sleep, 

"I love you, Chan. I love you, Bin." The words felt both liberating and terrifying, your heart racing as you finally admitted to yourself what you had been denying for so long. Despite everything, you had fallen for them. You'd fallen for their twisted, sick, and possessive love and you knew that there was no escaping any of this now. That you were trapped just as much as you were on that first day. Only. You didn't dread it as much as you had.

Sitting up in the bed, you dragged your knees into your chest and laid your head on your knees. Taking in a deep breath you let the truth wash over you as you stared at the wall. You glanced over at the door, half-expecting one of them to appear, sensing your turmoil, they always seemed to know when you needed comforting the most. You first thought that they had cameras in the room but after searching every single inch of the room you found nothing, they'd even told you they would tell you if there was one. Promising you that they would never invade your privacy like that. 

The longer you watched the door and listened for any sign of them you realised the house was quiet, and you were alone with your thoughts, your fingers clenched in your hands as you slowly began to lay back down on the bed hoping you could catch some sleep before the morning came.

The next morning, you woke up earlier than ever before, heading to the door and peering out of it you checked to see if either of them were awake yet. Usually, Chan was sitting in the living room waiting for you to get up but there was no sign of him. In fact, the front door was open with the car they used to get in and out of the woods running in the background. It was as if they were provoking you with a chance of escape but for the first time in god knows how long you didn't even look at the door. You grabbed a warmer jacket from the back of your door and made your way outside, you reached through the window of the car and stopped the engine. It was a test, you knew that but even if it wasn't, you found yourself not wanting to get away from them anyway. Sliding the keys into your pockets you sighed to yourself as you looked at the car. It was the perfect chance to leave but you didn't even want to go.

You weren't sure how much time had passed since you'd gotten up but the morning sunlight streamed through the large kitchen windows, casting a warm glow over the room as you worked. The smell of fresh coffee and breakfast filled the air as you continued to cook over the stove, flipping pancakes with a smile on your face. You couldn't remember the last time you'd ever smiled like this and it was something you'd desperately needed. 

Changbin entered the kitchen first, he usually prepared breakfast while Chan waited for you to get up, his hair tousled from sleep but he froze seeing you standing there.

"Good morning, love," he murmured, his voice filled with affection and yet a little hesitation. The last thing he'd expected to see was you up so early in the morning.

"Morning, Bin. Did you sleep well?" A soft smile played on your lips as Changbin settled down into the chair, watching you closely for any sign of you posing them but there was nothing. You tasted everything as you cooked it.

"Better than ever," he replied, moving to pour himself a cup of coffee, eyeing you up as he handed you a cup as well, your fingers brushing lightly as he did so and making you smile sweetly up at him. Without either of you noticing Chan joined them a moment later, a look of confusion on his face as he saw them together. He'd been up for an early morning grocery run and left the car running while he rushed to his room.

"You two are up early," he said, his tone teasing yet warm, trying not to let on that he was worried about the car.

"The front door is open and you left the car running." You said softly, chucking Chan the keys as he stared down at them in the palm of his hand,

"Shit, I must have forgotten." He hadn't forgotten, he'd just left it running without even thinking twice about it since he assumed you'd be asleep until late in the afternoon.

"Good girl," Changbin whispered as you laughed softly, the sound sending shivers through each of them. It had been far too long since they'd had the pleasure of hearing that light laughter and they'd do anything to get to hear it every day.

"I wanted to make breakfast for you both. It's the least I can do after everything." Chan approached you, brushing a finger over your cheek as if checking for a temperature but you slapped his hand away from you playfully.

"You don’t have to do anything, Yn. Just having you here, happy, is enough." You gazed up at him, your heart swelling so much it was getting harder to hold in what you were feeling for them. The longer you tried to deny it the more it hurt. 

"I know. But I want to. I love you both." The words hung in the air, silence fell across the room and all that could be heard was the fat spitting in the pan as the bacon overcooked.

"We love you too, Yn," Chan said softly, his hand cupping your cheek softly as he ran his thumb along your bottom lip, his eyes searching yours for any sign of deception but there was nothing but love there. 

"More than anything." He finished as Changbin stepped closer, his arm wrapping around your shoulders, the three of you embracing in a large hug. 

"You’ve made us so happy, yn. Our life with you is perfect." The three of you stood there, wrapped up in your moment together as you relaxed fully for the first time since they'd taken you hostage.

More weeks passed and you were getting more and more freedom with the boys, last week they'd taken you into the closest village which let you know you weren't anywhere near your old place anymore. The village was beautiful and they'd promised to take you again to check out the plant centre that was opening up in a couple of weekends.

"You promised that they'd bloom by now, I'm scared." You whispered to Changbin while Chan prepared a picnic nearby. The garden had been transformed into a fairytale for the night. There were fairy lights strung up above you as Chan laid out candles all over the blanket surrounding the picnic he was sorting.

"These are going to look beautiful, just like you," he said, his voice filled with adoration as you rolled your eyes at him. Of course, he was going to choose now as the time to be smooth with you about everything.

"Thank you, Bin. I can't wait to get some daises to plant soon, we should start adding some window boxes to the front of the house so we can add some colour." You stated as you dusted off your hands and looked over at the back of the house. You'd done everything you could to make it homely but the front still screamed "homeless" pit in the back of the woods.

"I think we can find some boxes somewhere, but there's no chance we're letting you put them on the top floor." He warned you as you giggled. They were always so overprotective of you hanging out of the windows, they'd caught you last week cleaning the windows and leaning out of them to clean the outside and Chan nearly had an aneurysm trying to make you come back inside before you hurt yourself.

"Deal," You laugh softly, laying your head on your boyfriend's shoulder as he gently runs his hand up and down your arm. 

Chan called out from under a tree where he had laid out a blanket and a basket of food, deciding that now it was perfect for the two of you to come over to him. 

"Come join us, you two! Everything’s ready."

"Are you sure this time?" You teased, when he'd first started setting up he panicked a little when he realised it wasn't perfect enough for you to see just yet.

"Yessss, now come over here." He groaned, dragging out the word "yes" before whining a little at you making you smirk at him. Taking Changbin's hand you both walked hand in hand to the picnic spot, settling down beside Chan who was beaming up at you. 

The three of you shared a meal, laughing and talking about their day, you always loved knowing what they'd spent their days doing. The longer you sat there you felt a sense of completeness, as if this was where you were always meant to be.

"I told Jisung that if he didn't have the song finished in a week, we wouldn't help him produce it," Chan smirked at you, they both worked in their own music company which meant whenever one of them worked, and the other could be home with you so you never felt truly alone. That, and most days they could work from home without having a need to leave you behind.

"You can't, that poor baby has worked so hard for you guys to just give up on him." You pouted a little as Chan smirked down at you, he knew you'd always been a soft-hearted person when it came to people he worked with. He and Changbin were a small company but they were constantly giving those who were less fortunate a chance of breaking into the game.

"He can have two more days," He rolls his eyes before you drag his face to yours, pinning him with a determined stare.

"Fine. One week." He grumbled before you giggled, kissing him softly.

"Erm, me next," Changbin mewled from beside you, you slowly turned and kissed his lips softly, all three of you laughing softly as you continued to eat. 

The evening had settled into its usual calm rhythm and the boys had left you to run into the village after you'd requested having smores by a fire tonight and they never could say no to you. You hummed softly as you tidied up the house, moving through each room with practised ease as you cleaned each of them. It was something you'd been doing for a while now, choosing to help around the home since you didn't have all too much to do besides hobbies and found yourself getting bored pretty quickly.

Tonight though you decided to tackle the last part of the house you hadn’t yet cleaned: the basement. You'd constantly avoided it whenever you went past the door, deciding that if you ignored it long enough somehow it would disappear but tonight something was nagging at you to go and clean it.

You figured you could conquer your fear of the darkness in there if you cleaned it and placed your own spin on it. Unlocking the door you peered inside it was dimly lit, and a faint, musty smell filled the air that made you want to gag a little. As you moved further down the steps you noticed a cluster of candles arranged on an old table, their flickering flames casting eerie shadows on the walls. You wrinkled your nose at the scent of the candles, then set about dusting and organizing the cluttered space, why did they even bother to put candles down here if there was no cleaning?

As you worked your way toward the back of the basement, you stumbled upon a large, old trunk, frowning to yourself you stared down at it. You hadn't remembered it being there when you'd been locked in the basement for so long. Come to think of it, the pile of blankets that had been in the room were no longer in their place.  Something about all of this felt off, a strange, unsettling aura emanating from the chest made your stomach churn. With trembling hands, you lifted the lid, revealing a sight that made your blood run cold.

Inside the trunk lay the rotting corpse of Alex, his once lively eyes now hollow and lifeless obvious signs of torture, he was bound by cuffs on his wrists which were now nothing but mummified bones. The stench hit you like a physical blow, and you staggered back, your hand covering your mouth to stop you from vomiting all over the chest, your heart pounding in your chest as the lid to the wood chest slammed shut. Panic surged through you, as you began to back to the basement, bile threatening to spill from your throat as you turned to run. But in your frantic retreat, you knocked over several of the candles, their flames licking greedily at the old, dry wood and papers scattered around and you hadn't noticed.

Flames quickly spread across the old, dry wood and papers scattered around, but you'd already slammed the door and locked it. The fire crackled and hissed, consuming everything in its path and leaving nothing behind as it grew angrier with every passing second,. 

Just as you reached the living room, your mind raced at the thought of what they'd done to your ex in that chest. No wonder he hadn't replied to you, they'd gotten to him before they got you. You rushed to the kitchen, throwing up into the sink as you tried to collect your thoughts together. You had to get out before Chan and Changbin returned and you didn't know how much time you had left. Grabbing a small backpack from the bedroom you hurriedly stuffed it with essentials, your hands shaking so badly that you almost dropped it multiple times. But just as you finished packing, you heard the unmistakable sound of the car pulling into the driveway, days ago it filled you with happiness to know they'd come over to you but now? Now it sent you into a frenzy. Panic surged through your veins, and you darted into a nearby closet, peeking through the slats as Chan and Changbin entered the house. The smell of smoke hit them instantly, and panic raced through Changbin as he began to search for the source of it. 

"Y/N! Where are you?" Chan’s voice was filled with worry as he and Changbin rushed towards the basement, the door was bolted from the outside the only sign that you weren't down there.

"We need to get out." Changbin gritted as he realised just how hot the handle to the door was. They backed away, calling for you frantically as a burst of flames erupted from the basement and began to attack the living room, eating everything in its path.

You stepped out of the closet, staring at the front door which was now burning hot, 

"Y/N!" Changbin shouted, his voice desperate as he grabbed your hand. Smoke filled the air, making it hard to see and breathe anymore. The fire had spread to the main floor, engulfing everything in its pathway but the kitchen was safe for now,

"Go! We need to go now!" Chan ordered as you stared at them, your stomach churning as you remembered the state of your ex-boyfriend in the basement.

"You killed him!" Dread surged through them both as they realised you'd found what they'd been desperately trying to hide from you for months now. They'd planned on burying the damn chest that weekend but they'd been so happy with you that they'd barely had the chance to get out of the house yet. 

"We can fight about it later! We need to get out, now!" Chan shouted, grabbing your hand. But as you all turned to the kitchen door to flee, a beam from the ceiling collapsed, blocking your path and trapping them inside.

The flames roared around them, the heat unbearable as you whimpered a little. You clung to Chan and Changbin, your mind racing with terror but not from them. The fire was going to kill you unless you got out of there, you didn't care about the body, you didn't care that they'd done it, you just needed to get out. 

"We have to find another way out!" you cried, your voice barely audible over the roar of the fire as you coughed into your hand. Changbin looked around frantically, trying to find an escape route. 

"The bathroom window!" he shouted, pointing towards the small bathroom at the end of the hallway, you all began to move as quickly as possible, huddled together closely. But as quickly as you moved the fire was faster and relentless, almost as if it was refusing to let you all leave. Another beam fell, narrowly missing them. The smoke grew thicker, making it hard to see and breathe.

The reality of everything was finally beginning to settle in as you struggled to breathe, your heart racing as you banged against one of the bolted doors. Changbin laid his head on your lap, too tired to fight anymore but Chan was still trying everything but you took his hand, shaking your head. There was no use fighting it anymore, you'd already inhaled too much smoke.

Chan held your hand tightly, his eyes filled with regret and sorrow as he realised all of this wouldn't have happened if they just told you about the body. 

"I’m so sorry, Yn," he whispered, tears streaming down his face. 

"We just wanted to keep you safe." He coughed a little as you whimpered. Changbin wrapped his arms around you both, his face a mask of despair as he pulled you both closer to him. Trying to protect you even in his last dying act as the fire completely enclosed the house. The sound of crackling and other beams falling around you makes you cry out. 

"We love you, Y/N. More than anything." Changbin groans. As the flames closed in, you clung to Chan and Changbin, your heart pounding with a mix of love and regret. 

Laying your head down on their shoulders you whimper a little more, coughing uncontrollably as the smoke took over your lungs making it harder and harder to breathe.

"I forgive you," You whispered to them softly as the fire consumed the last of your world.

The fire had finally been extinguished, but the house was reduced to ashes. Firefighters and police combed through the rubble, searching for any signs of life, kicking through the ash trying to see if anyone would have survived the fire. No one knew why it had gone up so quickly without an accelerant either. Firefighters worked tirelessly to find the source of the fire but again, everything had been destroyed. The only thing remaining were metal contents from kitchens and bedrooms and pipes from under the floorboards.

Among the charred remains of the home, they found the bodies of three people huddled together, a tragic testament to the twisted love and obsession that had bound them together forever.

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[fanfictionismyaddiction]

A Tyrell in the Lion's Den

Word count: 3.4k

Pairing: Tywin Lannister x Tyrell!reader

Summary: A Tyrell woman, bored and frustrated in King's Landing, unexpectedly falls for Tywin Lannister as their teasing evolves into a secret and deepening relationship

________________________________________________________

Being in King’s Landing was nothing like being at Highgarden. At home, the air was scented with roses, and the fields stretched as far as the eye could see. There was always something to do, someone to see, or some mischievous game to engage in with my siblings. But here, in the capital, I felt as though the walls of the Red Keep were closing in on me, stifling my spirit and curbing my freedom.

Margaery, of course, seemed to flourish in this gilded cage. My younger sister was ever the perfect lady, effortlessly charming and graceful, as if she were born to wear the crown she was soon to inherit. But I could see what others could not—how carefully she measured every smile, every glance, every word. She was playing a dangerous game, and while I respected her for it, I had no taste for it myself. I craved the sun on my face, the earth beneath my feet, the wild freedom of Highgarden. But in King’s Landing, there was none of that.

The days passed slowly, each one bleeding into the next with nothing to distinguish it. I tried to fill the hours with walks in the gardens, but even they paled in comparison to the ones at home. I would spend afternoons in the library, but the tomes held little interest when my mind was preoccupied with thoughts of home. I dined with the court, attended the various events Margaery was obligated to attend, but all the while I felt like an outsider. The courtiers were insipid, the knights pompous, and the noble ladies shallow. I was bored out of my mind.

Then, one evening, I found my distraction.

We were dining with the Lannisters, Margaery’s soon-to-be family. The atmosphere was tense, as it often was when the Tyrells and Lannisters gathered. My grandmother, Olenna, was sharp-tongued and unrelenting, and I loved her for it. She took every opportunity to poke at the lions, her remarks as barbed as any sword. Margaery, as usual, played the innocent, delicate flower, but I knew better. She was a Tyrell through and through.

And then there was Tywin Lannister.

The Lord of Casterly Rock was an imposing figure, his presence commanding the room. His icy gaze swept over everyone as though they were mere pawns on his chessboard. He was the most formidable man I had ever met, and I disliked him immediately.

I also found myself strangely fascinated by him.

As the dinner progressed, I found myself watching him, studying the way he interacted with his family and ours. He was as cold and calculating as I had expected, but there was something else there, something beneath the surface. He was a man who had built his house into the most powerful in the realm, who had orchestrated the rise of his children to positions of unimaginable power. And yet, I sensed a weariness in him, a tiredness that came from shouldering the weight of the world for far too long.

I decided to entertain myself by irritating him. It wasn’t difficult—he was so rigid, so controlled, that any small breach in protocol seemed to annoy him. I began with little things: interrupting him while he was speaking, contradicting his opinions with the sweetest smile, deliberately misunderstanding his intentions. To my delight, I noticed his jaw tightening, the only outward sign of his irritation.

After dinner, as the men gathered for their usual discussions and the women for their gossip, I found myself seeking him out. He was standing by one of the windows, looking out over the city, no doubt lost in thought about whatever grand scheme he was concocting. I approached quietly, standing beside him and mimicking his stance.

"A fine view," I remarked, though in truth, I found the city ugly compared to the sprawling beauty of Highgarden.

"Indeed," Tywin replied, his voice clipped. "One can see much from here."

"Including the dangers?" I asked, turning my head to look at him. He glanced at me, his expression unreadable.

"Especially the dangers," he said.

"How exhausting," I sighed dramatically. "To always be on the lookout for treachery and deceit. How do you manage it, Lord Tywin?"

"It is a necessary burden," he said, turning his gaze back to the city. "One that I bear gladly for the sake of my family and the realm."

"A noble sentiment," I said with a smile that didn’t reach my eyes. "Though I wonder if it leaves any room for joy."

He looked at me then, truly looked at me, and I saw a flicker of something in his eyes—surprise, perhaps, or maybe curiosity. But it was gone as quickly as it had appeared.

"Joy is a luxury," he said. "One that few can afford."

"And what about you, my lord? Can you afford it?"

Tywin’s lips pressed into a thin line, and I knew I had hit a nerve. He didn’t answer, and I didn’t press him. Instead, I gave him a sweet smile and curtsied slightly.

"Well, if ever you find yourself in need of a distraction, you know where to find me," I said, before turning and walking away, leaving him to his thoughts.

Over the next few weeks, I made it my mission to annoy Tywin Lannister at every opportunity. Whether it was at dinners, during court sessions, or in passing conversations, I would always find some way to needle him. A careless remark here, a sly comment there, all designed to get under his skin. To his credit, he rarely showed his irritation in public, but I could see it in the way his eyes would narrow slightly, or how he would clench his jaw.

It became the highlight of my days, this little game of ours. It made King’s Landing bearable. And, truth be told, I started to look forward to our encounters. He was the only one in the capital who challenged me, who didn’t treat me like a delicate flower to be admired from afar. He was formidable, and I enjoyed matching wits with him, even if he didn’t realize that was what we were doing.

My family, of course, noticed.

"My dear, you seem to spend quite a lot of time in Lord Tywin’s company," Margaery said one afternoon as we walked in the gardens.

"Oh, I just find him... fascinating," I replied, feigning innocence. "Don’t you?"

Margaery laughed, a light, melodic sound that masked her sharpness. "I find him intimidating. But then, I’m not as brave as you."

"Brave? Hardly," I said, waving a hand dismissively. "I just like to poke at him. It’s like trying to ruffle the feathers of a stone statue."

"You do more than poke, dear," my grandmother Olenna chimed in as she joined us. "I think the old lion has taken quite a shine to you."

I rolled my eyes. "Nonsense. He barely tolerates me."

"Men like Tywin Lannister don’t tolerate anything they don’t want," Olenna said with a knowing look. "And I’ve seen the way he looks at you when he thinks no one is watching."

I felt a blush creep up my neck. "He’s an old man, and I’m merely a distraction."

"Sometimes, distractions can become more," Margaery said, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Perhaps he sees something in you that you don’t see in yourself."

I didn’t dignify that with a response, though I couldn’t help but wonder if they were right. Was there something more to this game I had been playing with Tywin? Did he see me as more than just an annoyance?

The next time I encountered Tywin was at another of the many dinners we attended. This time, I decided to push him a little further.

"Lord Tywin," I said sweetly as I sat beside him, "do you ever tire of these endless dinners and formalities? I imagine they must be dreadfully boring for a man of your... stature."

He looked at me, his gaze cool. "Boredom is a luxury I cannot afford."

"Ah, yes. Always the dutiful servant of the realm," I said with a mock sigh. "It must be so exhausting, always being the one in control, the one who must bear the weight of the world."

He raised an eyebrow. "Do you pity me, Lady Tyrell?"

"Pity? No, my lord. I admire you," I said, and for once, I wasn’t being entirely sarcastic. "You’re a man who knows what he wants and takes it. There’s something... refreshing about that."

He studied me for a moment, as if trying to decide whether I was mocking him or not. Then, to my surprise, he smiled. It was a small smile, barely more than a quirk of his lips, but it was there.

"And what is it that you want, Lady Tyrell?" he asked, his tone curious.

I blinked, taken aback by the question. What did I want? Freedom, certainly. The open fields of Highgarden, the sweet scent of roses, the feel of the sun on my skin. But beyond that?

"I want to be seen," I said, surprising myself with the admission. "Not as just another pretty face or a pawn in someone else’s game, but as a person in my own right."

Tywin’s gaze softened, just a fraction. "You are seen," he said quietly. "By those who matter."

Our eyes locked, and for a moment, the world around us faded. There was no King’s Landing, no political machinations, no family expectations. Just us, two people who had found something unexpected in each other.

I quickly looked away, my heart pounding. This wasn’t supposed to happen. I was supposed to tease him, annoy him, make my time in the capital more bearable. I wasn’t supposed to… feel anything for him.

But the more I tried to deny it, the more I realized that I was drawn to him. Tywin Lannister, the cold, calculating, fearsome lion, had somehow managed to slip past my defenses. And I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.

As the days turned into weeks, our encounters became more frequent. Tywin would seek me out at dinners, in the gardens, even during court sessions. Our conversations grew deeper, more personal, and I found myself looking forward to them more than I cared to admit.

My family, of course, noticed the change.

“You seem to be in a better mood these days,” Margaery remarked one evening as we prepared for bed. “I take it Lord Tywin is proving to be more than just a distraction?”

I huffed. “Don’t be ridiculous. He’s an old man, and I’m just… amusing myself.”

Olenna cackled from her chair by the fire. “Amusing yourself, is it? My dear, you’re playing with fire. And I think you’re starting to enjoy the burn.”

I glared at her. “I’m not falling for him, if that’s what you’re implying.”

“Of course not,” Margaery said, though the smirk on her face said otherwise. “But just remember, sister, that the most dangerous games are the ones where we don’t realize we’re the ones being played.”

I didn’t respond, though her words lingered in my mind long after she left the room. Was I being played? Or was I the one playing Tywin? And did it even matter anymore?

The turning point came during a feast celebrating Margaery’s upcoming wedding. The hall was filled with nobles, the air thick with the scent of roasted meats and rich wine. The music was lively, the laughter louder, but all I could think about was the man sitting across the room.

Tywin had been watching me all night, his gaze a constant weight on me. I tried to ignore it, to focus on the festivities, but I found myself glancing at him more than I should. Eventually, I couldn’t stand it any longer. I excused myself from the table and slipped out into the gardens, hoping the cool night air would clear my head.

I hadn’t been outside for more than a few minutes when I heard footsteps behind me. I turned to find Tywin standing there, his expression unreadable.

“Lord Tywin,” I said, my voice more breathless than I intended. “What are you doing out here?”

“I could ask you the same,” he replied, stepping closer. “But I think I already know.”

I swallowed hard, my heart pounding. “And what is it that you think, my lord?”

He took another step, closing the distance between us. “I think you’re tired of the games, as am I.”

For a moment, we just stood there, the tension between us crackling in the air. And then, before I could think better of it, I reached up and kissed him.

It was a bold move, one that surprised both of us. But after a brief hesitation, he responded, his arms wrapping around me and pulling me close. The kiss was fierce, passionate, and I felt as though I was being consumed by it, by him.

When we finally broke apart, we were both breathing heavily. I looked up at him, searching his face for any sign of regret, but all I saw was desire.

“This… this doesn’t change anything,” I said, though even I wasn’t sure what I meant by that.

“No, it doesn’t,” Tywin agreed, his voice rough. “But it also changes everything.”

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. He was right. This did change everything. But what that meant, I wasn’t sure.

In the days that followed, I found myself thinking more and more about Tywin. Our stolen kiss haunted me, and I couldn’t help but wonder what would happen next. Would he pursue me? Would I pursue him? Or would we both pretend it never happened and continue our little game?

My family, of course, noticed my distraction.

“You’re awfully quiet today,” Olenna remarked as we broke our fast one morning. “Thinking about a certain lion, are we?”

I rolled my eyes. “Grandmother, please. I’m just… trying to figure out what to do with myself. King’s Landing is so dreadfully boring.”

“Boring? Or is it that you’re too afraid to admit you’ve fallen for him?” Margaery asked, her tone light but her eyes serious.

“I haven’t fallen for him,” I said, though the words felt hollow. “I just… enjoy his company, that’s all.”

“Enjoy his company?” Olenna cackled. “My dear, I’ve seen the way you two look at each other. There’s more than just ‘company’ there.”

I sighed, knowing they wouldn’t let it go. “Fine. Maybe there is something more. But it’s complicated. He’s Tywin Lannister, for gods’ sake. And I’m… well, I’m me.”

“And what’s wrong with that?” Margaery asked, tilting her head. “You’re a Tyrell. You’re beautiful, intelligent, and you’ve managed to capture the attention of the most powerful man in the realm. That’s no small feat.”

“But what if it’s just a game to him?” I asked, voicing my deepest fear. “What if I’m just another pawn in his grand scheme?”

Olenna reached across the table and patted my hand. “You may be a pawn, my dear, but you’re a clever one. And I have a feeling that Tywin Lannister doesn’t see you as a mere piece to be moved. He sees you as an equal, a partner. And that, my dear, is something to be reckoned with.”

That night, I found myself wandering the halls of the Red Keep, unable to sleep. My thoughts were a whirlwind, and I needed to clear my head. I didn’t have a destination in mind, but my feet seemed to know where they were going.

I ended up outside Tywin’s chambers, my heart pounding in my chest. I hesitated, unsure of what I was doing, but then the door opened, and there he was, as if he had been expecting me.

“Lady Tyrell,” he said, his voice low and even. “What brings you here at this hour?”

“I… I’m not sure,” I admitted, feeling uncharacteristically vulnerable. “I just… needed to see you.”

He stepped aside, allowing me to enter his chambers. I looked around, noting the sparse, almost austere furnishings. It was a room that reflected the man who inhabited it—practical, efficient, and devoid of any unnecessary comforts.

Tywin closed the door behind me and turned to face me, his expression unreadable. “Why are you really here?”

I took a deep breath, steeling myself. “Because I’m tired of playing games,” I said, echoing his words from the garden. “I’m tired of pretending that there’s nothing between us when there clearly is.”

He regarded me for a long moment, his gaze intense. “And what do you want from me, Lady Tyrell?”

“I want you to be honest with me,” I said, my voice trembling slightly. “I want to know where we stand. Is this… whatever this is… is it real? Or am I just another piece on your board?”

Tywin’s expression softened, and for the first time, I saw a glimpse of the man behind the mask. “You are not a piece on my board,” he said quietly. “You are… more than that. Far more.”

I felt a surge of emotion at his words, but I didn’t want to let myself believe it so easily. “Then what am I to you?”

“You are a challenge,” he said, taking a step closer. “A distraction. A temptation. But more than that, you are someone who sees me as I am, not as the world expects me to be. And that is something I did not expect to find.”

“And what about you?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. “What do you see when you look at me?”

“I see a woman who is brave, intelligent, and not afraid to speak her mind,” he said, his eyes locking onto mine. “I see someone who challenges me in ways I haven’t been challenged in years. And I see someone who I am… drawn to, despite my better judgment.”

My breath caught in my throat at his admission. “And what do we do now?”

Tywin reached out, his hand gently cupping my cheek. “Now, we stop pretending,” he said before lowering his lips to mine.

The kiss was slow, deliberate, and filled with all the unspoken words between us. When we finally pulled apart, I felt as though a weight had been lifted from my shoulders.

“Whatever happens,” Tywin said, his forehead resting against mine, “know that this is real. You are not just a distraction, not just a game. You are something I never expected to find in King’s Landing.”

“And you,” I said, my voice trembling with emotion, “are something I never expected to want.”

We stood there for a long moment, just holding each other, both of us realizing that we had crossed a line we could never uncross. But as I looked into his eyes, I knew that I didn’t want to go back.

This was real. This was something more than either of us had anticipated. And whatever happened next, we would face it together.

As the days passed, our relationship deepened. We were careful to keep it hidden from the court—Tywin, after all, had a reputation to maintain, and I had no desire to become the subject of court gossip. But in the quiet moments we stole away together, I found myself growing closer to him than I ever thought possible.

My family, of course, was not fooled.

“You seem… different,” Margaery remarked one morning as we broke our fast. “Happier, perhaps?”

I shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. “I suppose I’ve just… found something to occupy my time.”

Olenna smirked. “And does this ‘something’ have a name?”

I felt my cheeks flush. “Grandmother, please.”

“Oh, don’t be coy, dear,” Olenna said, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “It’s obvious to anyone with eyes that you’ve finally found something—or someone—to make your time in King’s Landing more bearable.”

“And if I have?” I asked, meeting her gaze. “Is that so wrong?”

Olenna’s expression softened. “Not at all, my dear. Just be careful. Tywin Lannister is a powerful man, but he’s also a dangerous one. Don’t lose yourself in him.”

“I won’t,” I promised, though I wasn’t entirely sure if I believed it myself. Tywin was a force of nature, and being with him was like being caught in a storm. But it was a storm I had no desire to escape.

Margaery, for her part, was more supportive. “I’m glad you’ve found someone who makes you happy,” she said as we walked in the gardens later that day. “Just… be careful. The court can be a treacherous place, and I don’t want to see you hurt.”

“I’ll be fine,” I assured her, though her concern touched me. “I’m not some naive girl who can’t handle herself. And Tywin… he’s different with me. I think I can trust him.”

“I hope you’re right,” Margaery said, squeezing my hand. “But just know that I’m here for you, no matter what.”