#waiting for them to finally resolve the tension with a love confession from the man who was ashamed

[gottagobackintime]

Having a queer “will they, won’t they” with a slice of “they have a past”. One of them is clearly ashamed of himself for being in love with another man. The other one isn’t ashamed and is desperate for the man he loves to admit his feelings and commit to a life together. They almost kiss several times. Finally gets to kiss while the “not ashamed one” is dying after he saved the man he loves.

[star-girl69]

I Loved You Like the Sun

a/n: formally apologizing for last chapter. but in order for my later plans to play out, (plus some delicious hurt/comfort w daemyra x reader) (wink wink things like the battle of rooks rest, FINALLY cannibal vs. vhagar battle) i felt like we needed a little more tension and besides, who doesn’t like a little drama??? so as always i hope you all enjoy this chapter!! and happy holidays to everyone who celebrates!!

warnings: blood, death, swearing, violence, incest, tell me if i missed anything!!

Daemon Targaryen x Rhaenyra Targaryen x Fem!Reader

Chapter Thirty One- Waiting, Longing

—-

“Baela? What’s wrong?”

Her little sniffles make your heart break, as she burrows further into her pillow and shakes her head. You sit on the edge of the bed, place a hand on her shoulder.

“You can tell me anything, you know. I am not your mother and I never will be, but I can still be whatever you need. It’s not like I’m the heir to the throne, like Rhaenyra, I have all the time in the world for you, sweetling.”

When she sits up, her face is streaked with tears. You smile sadly and she looks down, toying with the furs on her bed.

“I- I’m scared.”

“About what?”

“G-going to Driftmark. I love Grandmother and Grandsire, but, I’m scared I’ll be lonely. I won’t have you, or Rhaena, or any of my brothers. And I’ll miss my bed, and I’ll…” She trails off, and you wait for a second before speaking.

“Well, we will see each other. You will visit, we will visit, it is not like we’re disappearing.”

“But it will be different. I can’t- I don’t want anymore change.”

“Oh, Baela,” and she fell into your arms and sobbed into your shoulder, all while you told her that different is not always bad, that she is strong and beautiful, and she can make the best of any situation.

—-

As you sit on the floor, a dead man’s head in your lap, you think of what you said to Baela that day. She was stronger than you, better than you, and she handled her fears of leaving admirably. But you were not like her. You were selfish.

You could feel the blood soaking your skirts, the blood on your face from when you had screamed into your hands, and you could feel the eyes of the Greens on you. You preferred the blood.

You were selfish. You wanted your own bed, to see your children and your husband and wife.

Sometimes resolved in your mind. They watched you as you carefully lifted the man’s head off of your lap, blood falling down his lips, and set it on the ground.

You were so close. So, so close. To have- not even freedom, but just them- ripped away so fast was more than you could handle.

When you stood, your legs were woozy, bloody skirts tracing the floor. You could not look at them, and when you spoke, your eyes were wide and fixed on the floor.

“I want to go home.” You didn’t even have anymore tears to cry.

“I’m sorry.” Alicent whispered, but she didn’t make a move to comfort you.

It was Aegon who moved forward, who grabbed you by your collar while Helaena screamed and Aemond held her, and you met his fire-like eyes. Fury, you thought. They would never look at you like that.

“I should have killed you,” he hisses. “Let’s be done with this bother, kill her and send her pretty head to Rhaenyra.”

“Do it.” You were surprised when the words came out of your mouth, but in the silence that followed your confession, you became more comfortable with the notion of it. “I will die anyways in this place.”

“Y/N!” Helaena yells, but you cannot bring yourself to meet her eyes. “The dragons will not lose their treasure! The dragons will not lose their treasure!”

But Aegon only scoffed and let you go, pushing you away roughly, staring at you in pure disgust. You suppose it was no longer a punishment if you asked for it.

“Have one of the servants get her a bath. She’s fucking frightening.” His eyes glanced over you, up and down. “Whore,” he hissed, and left you to stand there.

Helaena was in front of you suddenly, asking if you were hurt, gentle hands on your shoulders. She did not care that the blood started to stain her clothes as well.

“Helaena…” Alicent murmured, surprised, almost scolding. “Your dress is ruined, now.”

“Mother… I don’t understand why… Aemond, why can we not let her go home? She deserves to go home?”

“Because she rides a dragon even more fearsome than Vhagar. Cannibal is the night, sweetling, and he will kill all of us.” Otto speaks, taking a step forward. He had faded into the background- observing.

You had been listening and watching, hope long gone.

“I wouldn’t. I would never hurt anyone, I never wanted too. I just wanted to be with my family.”

Otto goes to speak, but you step towards him, haunting in your cream-colored blood soaked dress.

“No! No, it was you who did it. Rhaenyra is the rightful Queen! You all are usurpers, traitors to the realm,”

“A woman cannot rule-”

“You do not even know her! You see she is a woman and that is all you see. You do not see how much she loves what is hers, how ambitious she is, how determined. You do not see her for anything than what is between her legs.”

“Princess Rhaenyra was my closest friend when we were younger. I do know her-”

“You do not. Perhaps if you had not been too quick to act, you would never have stolen me. You think these are the only assassins that will come? No. They will send more, and more, and more until they come themselves. They will bring with them a million dragons, and you will know nothing but fire.”

You take a deep breath while you scan all of them. Besides for Helaena, who has taken to comforting the children, they all seem indifferent. They will never let you return. You will never sway them. You are trapped, trapped, trapped.

And suddenly you are angry. You are burning with rage and fury, things you have not felt in years. You had no need to when you were with them on Dragonstone. When you were too happy to think anything else.

“You are traitors, liars, usurpers. Disgraces of the Targaryen name and Targaryen blood. You are cruel and horrible and undeserving of the Gods you serve! You do not deserve the dragons you ride, you are nothing, nothing, nothing!”

“That is enough.” It is the first time you have heard Aemond speak all night.

“Who are you to tell me anything?”

“A prince.”

“You may be a prince in title. But, in truth, you are nothing but a weak little boy who does not deserve the dragon he stole! Everyday I am grateful my son cut your eye, so you will always have a reminder of what you did to my family. You are nothing but a useless second son!”

His eye darkens and suddenly he is storming towards you. But in this place you are dying, and he does not scare you. You stand tall. He is a foot away from you. He stops.

“And what are you? A useless woman. Only one bastard child to speak of, only one marriage that ended your suffering, yes? You speak that a woman must sit the Iron Throne, but how can one if all they are good for is a punching bag and a womb?”

You raise your hands and scream, but he grabs your wrists in one hand. Grabs the collar of your dress with his other.

“It is you who is nothing, Lady Chambers.” You breathe heavily, and his eye stares deeply into yours, lips pursing, and it seems he is deeply considering killing you. But he doesn’t. He lets you go and pushed you so far back you slam into the wall.

“You are weak!” You scream after him as he leaves, and See Criston storms in with handmaidens and apologizes that he was not there. Alicent reassures him that no one is hurt (only dead), and that she dismissed him. He is not to blame.

Helaena walks over to you, Maelor snug in her arms.

“Change is as inevitable as death. You changed, Lady Targaryen. Do not forget that.”

She leaves you there, standing against the wall, eyes dry, stained in blood, neck sore from where you were grabbed by both brothers.

A handmaiden walks over with a handkerchief, gives it to you with a tight smile. You wipe the still wet blood from your face, and she leads you back to your chambers. A guard follows.

You don’t cry when the stained, soaked dress is cut off of you.

You don’t cry in the bath, while the water turns red and the sponge seems to rip off your skin.

You don’t cry when you get into bed.

You don’t cry when you stare at the window, stars shining.

You are a smoking, anger burning out, and you imagine they can see you. You imagine they come for you.

—-

The nursery is different without her.

Rhaenyra spends most of her time in there now, holding one of the babies, changing them, playing with them, watching while they sleep. She only leaves to sleep herself, to cry, to attend council meetings where no one says anything new. They wait for news from Blood and Cheese. Nothing comes.

After two days, it is decided they must be dead.

Daemon had slammed his fist onto his desk so hard his hand was now mottled purple and bruised. It would heal, the maester assured, he would be fine.

Now, he sits next to her in a chair, while Aegon runs around his chair, pretending his toy dragon is flying. They sit here most of the time, Daemon sometimes tells them a story about his time in the Stepstones, while Rhaenyra watches with a smile until she remembers.

Joffrey asks where Y/N is, and Rhaenyra can barely hold back her tears when she says “your mother will be back soon,” for the tenth time. She cannot break it to him. Not yet.

Daemon’s hand is freshly purple, and the two of them know the council is waiting for a response. But for right now, Aegon is napping in Rhaenyra’s arms, and Daenys and Viserys are playing on the floor. Joffrey is listening to one of Daemon’s stories- although he has heard all of them by now, and Rhaenyra decides the council can wait.

She looks at Daenys a little longer. She looks so much like her mother.

—-

“Your decision, My Queen?” Corlys is understanding and patient. He does not mind that they squander their duties, ignore everything.

She wants to say the truth. Admits that she does not know. But Rhaenyra is Queen, and she cannot say that. These men are looking to her for direction. She must provide it, like her father did, her great-grandfather did.

“We- we cannot let this go unpunished. We send more assassins. Better assassins. We send-”

“Me.” Rhaenyra’s eyes widen as she whips towards Jace.

“Don’t- no. No, Jace.”

“She is my mother as much as you are.”

“Yes-”

“It’s out of the question.” Daemon chimes in. “You are the heir.”

“And what better way to prove myself than by avenging her?”

“I cannot-” Rhaenyra murmurs, her mind tumbling. It would be smart, yes, she supposes. Jace would have the opportunity to prove himself. But she has already lost her Y/N. She will not lose her son as well. “I cannot sanction that. You will not go, Jace.”

“Please-”

“No.”

“My Queen,”

“Jacerys.”

“Fine. Fine, I will not go.” Rhaenyra feels her heart return from its place in her throat. Daemon places a hand on her shoulder, and she can feel how tense he is.

He cares for Jace, Luke and Joffrey just as much as he cares for Baela and Rhaena, Daenys, Aegon, Viserys. Their family is meshed together, a loud and brightly colored blanket, but Rhaenyra has always liked bright colors.

They decide upon different assassins, Rhaenyra cannot be bothered to remember their names, different routes, Rhaenyra does not care- as long as it gets the job done- and at the end of the day she falls into bed.

Tonight, she faces Daemon, content to hide her face in his neck and soak his collar with her tears. She knows he does not mind. She knows he does the same, much quieter, much more subtle, into her hair.

She thinks of her. She cries.

—-

Jace knows he should not be sneaking out of the palace.

He knows that his mother forbade it, that his mother cannot lose someone else, so he vows that he will not be lost. Not like his mother.

He misses her.

Aegon has taken another thing from him, and Jacerys Velaryon will not- cannot- let it go unpunished. He will kill them, but leave Helaena and Aegon’s brats. It is what she would have wanted.

His mother allowed him to stay in the council room to he stood and listened. Memorized their route. He would fly on Vermax, of course, leave him somewhere safe outside of the city while he journeyed the rest of the way on foot. He would follow the map he took, through the castle, the secret tunnels.

He will avenge his mother.

—-

taglist:

@wondergal2001 @akiraquote @a-lil-bit-nuts @anginoguera @thatkinkylesgirl1 @stitchattacks @honeypillowsblog @kaloafd @blackhoodlea @softtina @wallace02sblog @tetgod @hotd-fanfic @rxscpctals @iramagnus

[unohanabbygirl]

Going straight to the deepest part of the seven hells for asking this one but I haven't seen anyone mention this and I'm curious 😭

How would fmbh lucemond react to a miscarriage?? I mean if it's in the earlier years/ after the wedding night (by some miracle misfortune) I feel like they'd lowkey celebrate regardless of who was carrying

But what would become of the relationship dynamic if it happened later down after they resolved some of the tension that's currently occurring in fmbh? Because man that marriage is kept together with hopes, dreams and the westrosi equivalents of ducktape and superglue

Ok, when I say that anything involving the loss of a child or infertility is a fav of mine to read simply because of the emotional turmoil that comes alongside it. It’s angsty, both parties are grieving, tears are shed…It’s a little weird but I own it lol. I’m actually surprised no one has asked before now tbh.

In their early years of marriage a miscarriage would be a saving grace for these two if they were left to deal with an unexpected pregnancy. Neither wants children with the other and their days are spent arguing to the point of major headaches. So a miscarriage is blessing in both men’s eyes. Be that as it may, it doesn’t mean losing this pregnancy wouldn’t come with its own set of problems. Despite being a relief a stupid miscarriage it’s still serious and does leave both dealing with a sense of loss for what could have been if things weren’t just so awful. Luke’s always wanted to be a parent, always imagined a gaggle of babes to love and care for; so as it’s happening the whole process feels like the future he’s looked forward to for so long is truly unobtainable. A final nail in the coffin of giving up his dreams you could say.

He’a grateful yes, but he mourns what could’ve been all the same. Even Aemond does what he can to try comforting Luke considering they’re on less than friendly terms. He’s relieved there’s no child to ruin with their antics but seeing all that blood, the tears his husband sheds and the pain he’s in hits him pretty hard. Neither would actually acknowledge anything with words, instead using actions to express apologies until Luke is back in better health. Their marriage would still be dog shit but it’s the first step in seeing one another as something more than “that man who ruined my life” someone capable of showing kindness and experiencing pain. However, once their parents are made aware this understanding does crumble a tiny bit since they’re still susceptible to adapting whatever their mother’s feel since these two are mama’s boys down to the core. Alicent and Rhaenyra would really do a disservice to this middle ground they’ve come to.

Later down the line is where things would really get heartbreaking. Both Luke and Aemond love each other fully, they want a child and crave that connection, so a miscarriage would be awfully traumatic. For Luke it would affirm every insecurity and fear he’s been battling on his own since he became aware of his “fleeting youth”. Certain it’s a sign that he’s waited too long to finally have a child from his own body. That he’ll never get to experience motherhood in the way he desires most. Coming to point in his loss where he takes a lot of that anger out on Aemond as in his grief striken mind, if his uncle could’ve just outright came to Luke sober and confessed his feelings rather than getting drunk and fucking him before leaving in the night for years on end, then maybe they would’ve had a child years ago. Maybe none of this would’ve ever happened.

Aemond takes it because he knows his husband is in pain as he’s dying on the inside as well. But a part of him being the man he is takes the blame and agrees. Blaming his lack of emotional vulnerability and fear of rejection for why they waited so long and hence, the miscarriage which they automatically assume happened because Luke is “too old”

This would kinda set them back to their old ways, though instead Luke would be the one instigating while Aemond takes the jabs without retaliating. Both would fall into a serious depression pretty quickly, something that wouldn’t be made any easier as both sides of their family would quickly take to blaming the other.

They’ll eventually heal, but that comes after about a year or two of no longer sleeping in the same bed and crying every time they allow their memories to trail back towards that day. Though I can see Aemond offering to carry their next child if Luke’s up for trying again despite being nearly fifty. He still bleeds so the possibility is there.

Luke knows how much his husband still struggles with self-image so offering to carry their child would def bring forth some tears.

[sofi1sstuff]

🪖Steve Rogers recommendations🪖

Ongoing

🪖Captain’s legacy (by @onsunnyside​): Steve Rogers is the prideful golden-haired captain of the football team, the vice president of Arcadia Phi, and a gleaming star amongst the dull, forgettable faces of school. He shines with domineering entitlement and an unbreakable resolve, and you were doomed from the moment you stepped onto campus.

Series masterlist

🪖Third eye (by @onsunnyside​): The man out of time meets a woman out of touch.

Series masterlist

🪖His sinful devotion (by @marvelcriminalhoe​​): You’re the preachers daughter. The innocent, young, church loving, preachers daughter. And Steve is one of the most eligible men in the church. Who is far older and more experienced than you. But he’s Steve, everyone trusts him. Which means you should to, especially when he sets his sights on making you his wife. Because Steve Rogers would never do anything wrong, or have you do anything wrong. Right?

Series masterlist

Completed (series/miniseries)

🪖What a world (by @onsunnyside​): S.H.I.E.L.D. had a lot of secrets, you just never expected one of them to be an actual person—a blue-eyed giant, wild manbeast at that.

Series masterlist

🪖Photograph (by @kaiparker-avengerssmut​​): You find out what photo your husband keeps in his wallet

¨Part 1  Part 2

🪖All is fair (by @sunflowersoldat​): Family is important, but so is the Family business. Everyone has secrets, some are deadly. Your the best in the business, but no one knows who you are. Tensions are high, will you raise the stakes or fold under pressure?

Series masterlist

One Shots

🪖Its always the quiet ones (by @bonky-n-steeb​): You set your eyes on the new doctor in town.

🪖The professional (by @labella420​​): You get your first professional massage

🪖Clandestine meetings and stolen stares (by @cruelfvkingsummer​​): Who knew Steve Rogers had kept such a pretty little secret?

🪖Good girl faith (by @cruelfvkingsummer​​): The world is ugly but at least it ahs you

🪖Religion (by @lanadelreyscokewhor3​​): Steve’s prayers have finally been answered after all these years, as he finds you waiting for him in the church he calls home. Captivated by him and his charm, you get swept up in his arms, to soon find out Steve isn't the saint he painted himself out to be.

🪖It’s you (by @rogersevans​​): It’s always been him. You’ve just never noticed it before, until it was too late. One confession in a heated moment changes your entire relationship with Steve.

🪖Lamb to the Slaughter (by @chrisevansredbelt​​): Steve takes a liking to you and your naivety. he also takes advantage of it.

🪖Enemies (by @assembletheimagines​): Captain America gets on your nerves. But he could say the same about you.

🪖No Strings Attached (by @viperbarnes​): “Every time you’ve called me, I’ve come,” Steve says, voice thick with hurt, and you clench your teeth. “Every. Time.”

🪖She calls me daddy (by @hertzwritings​​)

You can check other characters recommendations here

[chilumi-shipper]

Ready to Let Go

Xiao x Adeptus!Fem!Reader (x Zhongli)

Summary: Zhongli loves you, Xiao loves you, You love Xiao. Seems as though, in the eyes of everybody else, Zhongli was gonna be a problem within your relationship with your fellow adeptus. He would never do that though, not to you, not to Xiao. For the first time, the vigilant yaksha seems happy, and you seem more carefree the moment you two are starting to get close to one another. Zhongli would never trade your happiness for the sake of his own, and that's why, he's ready to let go.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

The God of War, flaunting over one of his very own dearest adeptus, if Guizhong saw him right now, she would've laughed at how much he jumped and flaunted over you whenever you were in his presence.

But love is complicated, he could say he loves you with a burning passion, yet it can never change the fact that you had fell for another, no matter how much Zhongli might push through, you will choose to be embraced within the arms of your true beloved, Xiao.

Neither you nor him ever said anything to confirm the nature of your relationship, but Zhongli felt it, the connection between you and the adeptus was so much more than just two people who used to work along side each other. You and Xiao, he's known both of you for millennias, you're not really the greatest with expressing emotions.

Zhongli was never one to fight reality, in fact he accepted it with open arms, having no care for the pain it might bring.

But just this once, he let's himself drift to a false hope, perhaps you only see Xiao as a friend, that in actuality you tell him the feelings that you're too scared to say to your Archon. But every time Zhongli dreamt like that, he can't help but see Xiao, sadness clouding over him, it slaps the brown-haired man in the face.

He can't do that to Xiao. The poor boy, tormented his entire life, but today, he may very well be bearing a smile on his face, with you around him, with you loving him.

He was sitting between you two, in a table in Wangshu Inn's restaurant area, the light atmosphere was calming.

It was supposed to be a nice get together, yet Zhongli felt irritated. The way your gaze lingers past him and onto the person of your interest as you spoke about how you tried cooking mortal food recently. How you seem to take into account every expression and response Xiao would give, but pay no mind to Zhongli at all.

You weren't being rude and ignoring him the whole time, in fact, you make eye contact with him from time to time, to see if he's understanding you. But Zhongli felt peeved, why couldn't you look at him the way you looked at Xiao?

"I really like cooking actually!" You exclaimed, the cat-eyed adeptus smiling softly while listening to your rambles, his elbow resting on the table, while his chin leans on his hand. That makes Zhongli feel even worse for having such feelings for you, just looking at the small but genuine smile on Xiao's face as he admires you.

"Xiao?" You softly called out to him, clasping your hands together. The adeptus gave a hum in response. "There's this recipe I found called "Tofu Cookies with Almonds", I was hoping you could help me taste test them when I try baking for the first time?" Your voice gets quieter the more you say. Zhongli found it adorable when you get shy, yet he can't help but feel a nauseous felling eating away at his skin, you didn't invite him.

The waitress puts the food you all ordered on your table before Xiao answers. Zhongli looked into your eyes, seeing the nervousness as you anxiously wait for an answer.

"Okay."

Golden orbs then looked at Xiao, seeing he's looking away from you, his ears red from embarrassment. Yet even when he tried to hide it, the Archon can feel his giddiness from miles away.

Zhongli can't help but look back and forth, seeing your eyes light up with happiness because of Xiao's answer. "Thank you so much!" You smiled brightly, proceeding to put some food onto your plate to start eating.

In all this, Zhongli felt as though he didn't have a place. Perhaps you were overjoyed that you didn't look at the fact that you completely discarded him, but someone else noticed.

"Mora- Zhongli can join us too, he's good at taste testing food." Xiao looks at you, before looking at the taller man. "I think." Zhongli then nodded, agreeing with Xiao's statement.

He knows he shouldn't, he knows that he just let the two of you resolve your feelings together, just the two of you. Yet he can't, for once in his life, he feels that it's too hard to let go.

The two looked at you expectantly, despite you making it obvious that you wanted to spend some time with Xiao alone, Zhongli hoped that maybe, just this one occasion, you'll let him intervene with your growing relationship. It's selfish, it's pointless, but just this once.

You smiled, "Okay."

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

"Mr. Zhongliiii!" You burst in the funeral parlor, calling out to him. "You have to help me." The man got up from his seat immediately, worried.

"What happened?!" He asked in a panic.

You looked down onto the book in your hands, the man did the same, looking at a book that has a very interesting title.

'The Art of Romance: For Newbies.'

What?

Usually, if you were to come to him with a book like that in hand, he would have laughed and teased you, eager to see your embarrassed state. Yet, Zhongli felt nothing but hopelessness, you putting in so much effort for someone else, meaning he really has no chance, does he?

"I need to you to help me look for a really nice dress. Like really, really nice! Oh but not too nice, since we're baking, if I get stains on a dress, he might think I'm sloppy. Oh, but if it's too simple, he'll probably think that I don't really care. Ohhh, but I don't want to seem like I care too much--" You looked up at him, rambling on and on about what you're supposed to wear for tomorrow. "It says here that if the person thinks you're too desperate, they might think it's weird." You pointed at the book that you're holding, bring it closer to his face.

Zhongli gently grabbed your hands that are clasped around the book. "If you're worried about Mora, I already have some on me." You peaked your head from behind the book, looking at the brown-haired man's serious face.

"Him?" Zhongli completely ignores your ramblings, only focused on one thing you said. You're worrying so much about what to wear, just to make a good impression to him.

You felt your cheeks heat up as he looks at you with a frown on his face. You laughed a bit to ease the tension, scraching the nape of your neck.

"Xiao..." He's mentally prepared himself for this moment, you would come to him, ask for advice since you knew him as a very cultured man, and you would confess your love, for someone else. And yet, hearing it come from your own lips seem to crack the barriers of his heart with just one word.

Despite the tears wanting to just slip out of his golden orbs, he smiled at you. "I've always sensed your feelings towards him." His words fluster you even more, you didn't realize it was so obvious, but Zhongli was a very observant person, maybe it was just that.

"Do you wish to impress him tomorrow? That's why you're so... jumpy today?" You nodded, feeling embarrassed that you are worried about this sort of thing. Usually, only mortals are prone to these types of worries.

"Y/N, Xiao doesn't care about those trivial things. You just have to be yourself." He told you as a matter of fact.

'Besides, the Yaksha already is making it obvious that he likes you back.' Zhongli kept this thought internally.

"But what if he doessss." You whine, gripping on the book tighter. "Xiao is just so.... Xiao! So unpredictable and complicated." Sighing, you looked up at the man again. "Can you help me, please?"

Zhongli sighed, although it hurts him to help dress you up so pretty, just to send you off to another man, but he'll bite. How could he ever say no to you.

After hours of rummaging through your closet, you finally, finally find something that's actually good in your eyes, even though Zhongli assured you that everything would be fine.

The dress of your choice has Xiao's colors, white, gold, mint green. You really are some piece of work, piece of work that doesn't belong to him.

Zhongli just kept sighing as he walked back to the funeral parlor, he's conflicted, which usually doesn't happen. Is he just gonna leave you two alone for tomorrow with some lousy excuse, or... get in the way.

As he got to the entrance of Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, he saw Xiao, sitting on a bench just outside. The cat-eyed boy sensed Zhongli's presence, standing up and looking at his way immediately.

The brown-haired man walked up to him, silently asking why he's here all of a sudden, in the city, which also doesn't happen very often.

"Can you help me?"

Oh boy, here we go again.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

"You don't have to straight up lie if you don't like her treats, you can just give polite comments, like saying you're not really a big fan of them or something." Zhongli explained once again, it was the dead of night. Xiao had asked to help with how he should talk to you, he's not very talkative and expressive, but he doesn't want to make you feel like he doesn't like you.

"But that might also hurt her feelings." The Yaksha pointed out, listening intently to the older man.

"Yes, but she will appreciate the truth rather than a pointless lie."

He just needs help expressing his feelings right.

And Zhongli seeing how you two desperately try to be the best you can for one another, it makes him smile, despite the constant heart ache. And the realization that he has no chance for you, with the evidence right in front of him, Zhongli makes his decision...

He's ready to let go.

"I'm not gonna be joining you two tommorow."

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Alternative Ending: Ready to Hold On - Reader chooses not to choose and start a polyamory relationship.

[sxfik]

let's talk about episode 16 and why it confirms solhwi endgame

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a/n: as always, this is just my opinion and what i interpreted from episode 16! some of this might be a stretch (or wishful thinking lol) but ya know, feel free to start discussions etc.

just through my time scrolling here on tumblr and on twitter, i've seen many viewers be disappointed with the last episode and it's lack of confirmation for solhwi (and also like understandably so, we'd all love to see a more "firm" confirmation). but i genuinely think that this whole episode was a confirmation of their feelings for each other, that there was something there.

the most important thing to remember about this show is that it is not a romance. the main plot is centered around the mystery but also these students learning how to navigate the law and trying to show the different sides of the law (ways the law can be used to help vs. ways the law can be used to harm). we, of course, also get to explore the relationships of the group with their family, their professors and with each other. so overall, i think we can all agree that we weren't going to get an "explicit" confirmation of their feelings for each other.

i think one of the things law school does really well as a show is that it doesn't give a "perfect" ending to every story. for example, in many shows, we see every plot line resolve in the show with no open endings and in general, it ends up all resolving with in the span of two episodes. but with episode 16, especially the ending scenes, we see that not everything is resolved. we don't get an answer for every single mystery, such as seung-jae's story line or the full extent of professor seo and assemblyman koi's relationship. what we do get instead is a "set-up" to show or hint at how the relationship might develop in the future. this also applies to the relationships within the story: for example, we don't really get a full ending for kang sol B's issues with her family. rather, we see that they are going to therapy and working it out together. we don't get a true ending to the court case with ji ho's dad. even with kang dan and her story, we don't get to see a "full" resolution to it, but we do get a hint/a sense that everything is on track to be resolved. many people might argue that this is a sign of bad writing but i disagree. i believe that this is realistic writing, because the issues that are faced by the students in the show is not resolvable in one year and neither are their relationships.

with that in mind, i would apply the same logic to solhwi. like i said, i didn't think we'd get a kiss scene or anything similar to that in their 1L year. through this season, we are tracking joon hwi and sol A's relationship as it grows from classmates to acquaintances to friends to in like to in love (especially for han joon hwi). if you go through and rewatch the show, you can see that as the episodes go on, we see han joon hwi and sol's relationship develop into something that is based on trust, care, appreciation and communication.

i've seen many people say that we've over hyped their relationship in the last couple episodes but i don't believe that's true. i believe that the show is trying to display that both of them are falling for each other, they're both seeing each other in a "new light." for joon hwi, that moment came much quicker; like i said in this post, joon hwi is realizing the extent of his feelings towards her when he says that he owes her. and this last episode proves it! this whole episode we see the camera focus on han joon hwi's reactions and his love for sol, except he's actually aware of himself. earlier, the reactions came out without him realizing or being aware that he's in love with her. but this episode? he is aware of his feelings for her. throughout this episode we watch as his admiration for her grows louder and louder, from smirks and soft smiles at her to appreciation for her knowledge and talents. we see the hint of defensiveness cross his face when ji ho insults kang sol (which by the way definetly felt more like ji ho was taunting joon hwi that he was actually insulting kang sol). even sol B knows when she asks to start but he makes her wait for sol A.

and in the end, we see that sol is realizing her feelings too. i believe for her, the change came through ye-seul's trial. some part of her always loved his company and his friendship but after the trial, and their friends teasing their jealousy, i think sol definitely took more note of joon hwi. i think it's evident in their 1L year in this episode, the looks of appreciation she gives him, the way her eyes seem to always land on him in the end. and ESPECIALLY the courtroom scene where sol and joon hwi were practicing her argument, we can see her feel the tension and his presence as he grows closer to her, we can see her getting flustered and nervous around him in a the way you would with someone who's position is your life is graduating from friends to a crush. the beginnings of this episode definitely show that solhwi is starting to full on fall for each other.

THEN during their 3L year, we can see how they're full blown gone for each other. i genuinely think that at this point, they are in a relationship with each other and here is why.

one: the moment sol sees joon hwi walk by, she calls out his name asking him what he's up to. then when he responds "i want to wind down" she follows him. when they get out of the elevator, she says "you said you wanted to wind down?" and he lets out a teasing laugh at that. i definetly think that she was talking about/expecting something completely different when he said he wanted to wind down, because as he explains that he wants to wind down by "watching the trial," you can watch the gears turning in her head before answering "right, i should wind down too" in an embarrassed way, with joon hwi teasingly smiling at her (obviously he knows where her mind went to). and then after stretching, sol makes her classic "you're so annoying/you're so frustrating" face at him.

two: as kang sol and joon hwi provides counsel to the old man, we see joon hwi once again watch kang sol but the expression on his face this time, is a lot different to the expressions that we've had previously. before, the reactions and expressions were more distant, more "in admiration" and in amazement (about her and his feelings for her). but in his reactions this time around, we see it's more firm, it's more confident. it's a completely different expression of love than what we've seen before. it's a lot more similar to one that a boyfriend or a husband gives their significant other than the expression a boy gives to his crush. it's a lot less amazement and enamorment and more content, proud expression.

(honestly it's kinda hard to describe how different the expressions are in words, but if you watch the moment around 1:00:00, you'll see what i mean)

here's the thing: the concepts and issues that law school is showing us are not resolvable issues in one year, and they are not "easily" resolvable issues either. that is what this show has been trying to show us: that the law is complex and it's application in the real world is even more complicated. so it would not make sense for this show to wrap everything up in a neat bow and present it to us in the final episode. moreover, solhwi has forged a friendship through the pressures of law school as well as the overarching mystery and plot of the show. this season was centered around watching them develop a relationship together and this show hints and shows that solhwi are soulmates, their relationship will not be an epic love story where there are grand gestures or confessions of love. it is a gradual change from friend to lovers, while having independent development and maintaining their own goals in life. the very ending, we see them reach their goals as lawyer and prosecutor but they still come together. if they were to have a confession scene in the very end of the show i believe that it would have been too rushed without enough development on both sides. i think that law school ended in the best way for both characters without reversing or skipping their development while leaving room and hinting at the possibilities for the future.

[mellowswriting]

Helping Hand

pairing || Din Djarin x fem!Reader

summary ||  The clasps on bras should not be so fucking difficult. It’s a good thing Mando doesn’t mind lending you a helping hand.

word count || 4,873

warnings || SMUT! p in v sex, kinda rough tbh, desperate Mando, cockwarming, a singular spank, love confessions bc I am soft for this man 

a/n || this was uh...something! I firmly believe that Mandalorians waste zero time once they find their person. Once they have them, they have them. No such thing as rushing to a Mandalorian, especially our TinCanMan. also, this gif destroys me

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The second you saw the bra as you perused the marketplace, your face lit up. The fabric was rich in color and ridiculously soft and you knew the second you had your hands on it that you were buying it. It wasn’t too expensive, a few credits more than what you’d usually be willing to pay for clothes, but hey, you deserved to splurge every now and then. You practically bounced with excitement as you made your way back to the Crest where Mando and the little green kiddo you adored waited for your return. It was nice to get some time to yourself, time where you didn’t have to chase after a rambunctious kid or have to squeeze past Mando’s huge frame in the small spaces of the Crest, but what could you say?

You missed your boys. 

The ramp lowered as you drew closer and you smiled. Mando must have seen you approaching. The sight of him standing in the cockpit with the sleeping child cradled in his arm made your chest bloom with happiness. You paused on your way to set your bag on your bunk, distracted by the uncomfortable looking angle he held his arm at, and let out a quiet laugh. Mando’s silent tendencies left you to observe the way he held himself to discern how he was feeling, and after months of living with him, you could gauge him easily by the tilt of his helmet, the way he held his shoulders. You may not be fluent in Mando’a, but you were fluent in your Mandalorian. 

��He wakes up the second you lay him down, huh?” You asked, a teasing smile on your face. The sharp way he looked to you only confirmed your suspicion and you bit your lip to hold back another chuckle. “Here, let me.”

The child didn’t even stir when you fluidly slipped him from Mando’s arms and slowly settled him into the metallic cradle he slept in. Mando sighed loudly behind you, the sound roughed slightly by the modulator. “How are you so good at that?”

“It’s what I’m here for, isn’t it?” You turned and almost knocked back into the cradle at the proximity of the beskar-clad warrior, a mere few inches between your chests. Heat flared across your face. “It’s just, uh… just lotsa practice.” 

Mando hummed quietly and you instinctively looked to his shoulders and his hands, trying to gauge his mood. They were relaxed, the tension he always carried about him eased for the moment. Content, if you had to guess. It made you smile up at him, brighter than any sun in the galaxy. There weren't many times you saw him without that ready-to-action tension that plagued his surely sore muscles - almost always when the three of you were in the Crest, safe together as you hurtled through space. He turned just as quickly as he had approached you, stepping out of your space to set the coordinates to Nevarro, and you felt like you could finally exhale. 

Bag in hand, you practically stumbled into your bunk and pulled out the pretty bra you were so excited to put on - inky black, accentuated with intricately designed lace and a harness-like back. You pulled off your clothes quickly, stripping down entirely bare to slip into a soft pair of sleeping shorts. It would take a while to get back to Nevarro; you might as well be comfortable for it. The process of undressing while the Crest drew away from solid ground used to have you half naked and on the ground from the jostling, but thankfully you had grown proficient at balancing yourself through the rough takeoffs. 

A quiet sigh escaped you at the brush of the luxurious cloth against your bare skin, deft fingers latching the clasps at your back. It was a welcome change to the usual bras you wore. The straps were a bit too loose, allowing the cups to droop slightly from your breasts, and you fumbled to tighten them. It was just out of your grasp, your fingers grappling uselessly for the elusive adjuster as you huffed in annoyance.

“Need a hand?” Mando’s voice behind you made you startle almost comically and whirl around, one hand pressed against your chest where your heart was battering against your ribs. How in the hell did he always manage to move so silently? Heat bloomed up your neck and across your face unbiddenly. Sure, it wasn’t the first time he had seen you in some state of undress - living in such close quarters and the fact that Mando apparently never learned how to knock had him walking in on you often. But there was no denying the difference in you standing before him dressed practically in lingerie. 

“Uh, y-yeah, if you could?” You stuttered, internally groaning at your sudden inability to speak. The thick tension of the air could have choked you as you stared Mando down awkwardly until he twirled his finger, silently commanding you to turn around, and you could just die. “You just have to slide the, uh, adjuster up towards my shoulder.”

Mando said nothing and before you could move your hair out of his way, one gloved hand gathered it to settle over your shoulder and you had to tamp down on the shiver that tried to wriggle up your spine. He fiddled with the straps silently, leaving you to wrangle with your bordering on desperate need to climb the giant man behind you like a tree and lose yourself in the pleasures you could bring each other. 

You weren’t blind, nor were you stupid. Far from it, actually. Reading people was a gift you had possessed from a young age - one’s intent could easily be sussed by the specific light in their eyes, the slightest change in their tone, the barely-there shift in their body language. Mando may not speak often, you may not be able to watch for the arch of an eyebrow or the quirk of a lip, but you could still read him like a book. 

The fear of complication warred with your need. The child was a beacon of light in your life when you thought there could never be anything but swallowing darkness. He was a reminder of the little things that made everything else worth it - every coo, every small smile as he slept, every time he came running up to you or Mando on his little legs. Even when you were having to explain over and over again that no, he couldn’t eat the buttons off of the comlink, he brought you more joy than you could imagine. 

It didn’t help that every day spent flying through hyperspace left you growing closer to the Mandalorian. Even when there was nothing but silence between you, it was comfortable, companionable. The final straw? Mando slept in your presence. The first time it happened had been entirely accidental. He was exhausted after a strenuous bounty, one that ran far longer than they fought for, and the second the coordinates had been set, Mando collapsed into the pilot’s seat and promptly passed out. Knowing that he was comfortable enough to fall asleep without second thought, that he trusted you enough to be vulnerable like that around you...you never felt more like you belonged.

And Mando? When he woke several hours later, feeling far more well-rested than usual, he saw you curled up in the seat next to him with the child cradled in your lap as the blur of hyperspace reflected in your eyes. You had smiled at him, sleepy but bright nonetheless, and he had never been more grateful for the helmet that hid his face. You were too smart, too observant - you would be able to read the love on his face plain as day.

That little green womp rat and his beskar covered father saved you when you thought there was nothing left. The idea of losing that made you nauseous. The idea of how complete your little family would feel if you gave in made you tempted. 

It was complicated. 

A modulated grunt of frustration came from the man behind you as he couldn’t get a solid hold on that damn adjuster and you bit back a laugh. A Mandalorian, a warrior - bested by some plastic and fabric. Something fell to the ground, landed on the metal floor with two quiet thwaps, and before you could glance down to see what it was, warm bare fingers slid between the strap and your skin. This time there’s no stopping the almost violent shiver that racked your body, paired with an embarrassingly sharp exhale, and Maker your resolve was crumbling to pieces. 

“Tell me when.” Mando rumbled once his nimble fingers finally wrapped around the plastic, his modulator vibrating right in your ear in the most delicious way. The strap tightened slowly as his fingers slid up, the cup of the bra finally flush against your skin, and your voice was hoarse when you whispered ‘when’. 

Instead of simply reaching for the other strap, his warm palm made a lazy path across your skin, pausing for a breath between your shoulder blades before slipping under the thin fabric. He repeats the movement, tightening the strap until you clear your throat and manage to say in a stronger tone, “T-there is fine.” 

Mando hummed, his fingertips gliding over the soft skin of your shoulder and holy hell, his chest was practically pressed to your back and there was no way he wasn’t being a giant tease. “Just fine?”

“Perfect,” You corrected, your voice breathy, eyes threatening to flutter shut as that hand trailed over your shoulder to trace along the line of the cup of your bra. Goosebumps followed Mando’s touch, raised as your body’s desperate testament to the need that had vibrated through you. You just barely caught a glimpse of those tanned hands, hands you had seen a few times as he took care of the more delicate aspects of cleaning of his weapons, and you whispered, “You’re p-perfect.”

Mando gripped your hip suddenly, your soft flesh soft a beautiful contrast to his calloused hands, and it was the dip of his fingertips underneath the hem of your shorts that made you lean back into him fully, your head tilted back against his shoulder. A rumbled moan vibrated from his chest and into your back, felt all the way through his chestplate, as you “You want this, sweet girl?”

You nodded quickly. “H-how? How can we…”

“Leave it to me,” Mando murmured, preoccupied with the heat of your bare skin under his hands as he finally broke, finally explored the body of the woman he had fallen in love with in the months since his clan had expanded to three. “Just...tell me you want this. Please.”

Mando’s voice was rough and desperate even through the modulator and you nodded without a second thought. You knew you were in for it just from the way he pushed you further into your bunk to let the door slide shut behind him. No fanfare, no fuss. Mando was certain. He was going for what he wanted, and it lit a fire in you. 

You sat on the edge of the bed, your heart racing as Mando methodically unclasped his armor, his visor trained on you with each piece that came off - and it hit you. This was actually happening. 

Finally. 

You grinned up at the t-shaped visor of his helmet and pulled him closer by the hem of his duraweave pants, his grunt of approval stoking the flames of your need. He pulled his shirt off fluidly and your hands froze where they were trying to undo his pants as you admired the sight of so much bare skin. 

“So handsome,” You whispered before kissing just below his navel, smiling into his skin at the way his hand buried in your hair. Mando hummed under your gentle touch, under the trail of your tongue against his skin. It had been so long, too long since he had any form of gentle touch, you knew that. Touch starved, that was the term. 

You would fix that. 

You trailed your hand over his ribs, fingertips leaving goosebumps in their wake when your nails scratched him lightly. Finally having your hands on him had you almost giddy, your heart flying in your chest as you slowly kissed down his stomach to the tent in his pants, nerves and need warring in your belly. You wanted to learn every piece of your Mandalorian - his scars and their stories, where to kiss when you wanted to hear those intoxicating groans, his favorite places for you to bite and dig your nails into. You wanted to break him in the best possible way, destroy that headstrong restraint and discipline so he could destroy you in return. 

All it took was a teasing press of your tongue against the outline of his cock to make him snatch you up off of the bed with a firm hand at your jaw and you couldn’t help but smile. His helmet tilted slightly as he took you in, grinning at him like the cat that got the canary, eyes sparkling with excitement, and he gripped your shorts with his other hand hard enough to pop the hem. 

“Off.” Mando rumbled and you immediately shimmied out of them as quickly as you could with his hand still holding your face firmly. The second the fabric no longer hindered his access, he ran his hand over your ass, greedy fingers digging into the firm flesh of one cheek. “Such a good listener. Aren’t you, sweet girl?”

You pressed closer as you nodded, desperate to feel his body against yours, and your eyes fell closed at the warmth of the skin to skin contact of your chest against his. As much as you loved the bra you wore, you wanted to feel nothing between you. It was easy to slip off and Mando’s hand instantly left your jaw to trace along your breast. It amazed you how gentle he could be; those big hands capable of incapacitating, capable of killing, gently palming your skin and tweaking your nipple. A breathy chuckle met your ears and only then did you realize you were arching up into his touch. 

“I won’t be gentle.” Mando warned. 

You grinned, heat shuddering down your spine at the roughness of his tone. “Who says I want you to be?”

You were on your back before you could even blink, the impact against the bed pulling a gasp from you. Mando made an image painted by the gods: stood over you, chest heaving with each harsh breath, cock straining proudly against his pants. That was the last thing you saw before his hand slapped against the light control on the wall and the entire bunk plunged into darkness. 

A hand wrapped around your ankle and yanked you against a pair of firm thighs, forcing out a yelp that morphed into a low whine when your legs were spread wide. Without your vision to guide you, you had to rely on your hearing, your sense of touch, and the low clank of metal on metal and rustling of fabric had you confused until his warm, entirely naked body slid over yours and you heard the first tones of Mando’s voice - unmodulated, raw and low in your ear. 

“You need me, huh? You need this?” Mando growled, sliding down to grind his cock against you, and he grinned impishly at the desperation of your whimper, at the way you angled your hips to try to slide him inside of you. “Let me take what I want and I’ll give you what you need.” 

You could have cried out when he pulled back, could have begged him to stay and fuck you already, but the feeling of his lips latching onto your neck made your voice melt into unintelligible groans. You buried your hands in his hair, memorizing the soft way the curls fell through your fingers. The combination of his teeth and tongue were sure to leave a mark, one you would wear with pride for anyone to see. It was the first of many lovebites he left on your skin, trailed down your neck and over your chest and delivered between significantly gentler bites and licks to your breasts. Your hips moved entirely of their own volition, legs wrapped around his waist to rub against his stomach. 

Mando’s hands found your hips and pressed them down, pressing you flush to the bed hard enough that you knew you would have bruises, ones you would relish as long as they lasted. You had never felt more desperate to be touched, tension rocketing tighter and tighter in your core. 

“So needy, mesh’la.” Mando rumbled as he shoved you further up the bed. He delivered a sharp bite to your thigh and you jumped, a laugh bubbling up from your chest at the suddenness and the way he eased the mark with his tongue. You carded your fingers through his hair again and his chest rumbled, almost as if he were purring. Just as you were about to comment on it, tell him how cute it was that he reacted so beautifully to your touch, his tongue slid through your wet heat. 

“Fuck!” You exclaimed, the grip you had in his curls tightening harshly as you tried to roll your hips to grind against his face, but he pinned your hips with sure hands. Not to be hindered, you pressed your heels into his back and still managed tiny hitches and Mando chuckled at your determination. His tongue rolled over your clit, over and over until you were crying out at the sparks of pleasure radiating through your core.

His mouth left you for a split second, just long enough to slick his fingers with his spit, and his tongue descended back to your clit as two fingers rubbed tiny circles against your entrance. You were almost incoherent in your begging, your voice slurred, words cut off in the middle - and then two thick fingers slid into your cunt, his lips wrapped around your clit, and you thought your heart stopped with the intensity of it all. 

After what could have been an eternity or a mere half second, Mando pumped his fingers slowly and your entire world imploded around you. The groan that left your lover was exhilarating. He mumbled against you, something about the tightest fucking cunt he’s ever had, before his tongue went back to town, flicking over your clit as his fingers curled into that sweet spot deep inside you. Your back arched of its own volition, your entire body tensing as Mando rocketed you to your climax.

“Can’t wait anymore.” Was the only warning you got before he pulled away, leaving you to flutter around nothing, and a high whine left your throat as Mando leaned over you and yanked your thighs up to hook further over his hips. His lips fell to yours and you groaned at the taste of your arousal, your hand cupping his jaw and reveling in the scratch of his stubble against your skin. The heavy weight of his cock pressed against your thigh until he angled himself to press right against your entrance, and - 

“Wait!” You gasped and Mando froze entirely. You reached between you to grasp his cock, groaning at the thick girth that you knew would split you open beautifully. “Let me... let me make you feel good, too.” 

“Won’t last, mesh’la,” Mando growled, his forehead pressed to yours as he fucked into your hand despite his words. For just a moment you thought you had him, had gained some modicum of control as you stroked him with a firm hand, but he batted your hand away to pin above your head. “Need to bury my cock in your tight little cunt.”

“P-please! I need it, I need you to fuck me full.” You mewled so prettily for him and Mando broke. 

The sound that left him was pulled from his very core, an almost feral growl radiating from his chest and leaving you shuddering underneath him, ready to beg until he finally shoved his cock into you, but before you could get a sound out you were flipped you onto all fours. You tried to steady yourself, to press your weight into your hands so you could grind your ass back against him, but a rough hand shoved between your shoulder blades until your face and chest were flush against the blankets beneath you. 

“You want me to claim this cunt?” Mando breathed into your ear as he settled his chest against your back, gliding the head of his cock through your slit teasingly. A dark chuckle followed your pitiful whine. “Oh I think I will. Stuff you full of my cum so everyone knows who you belong to.”

Mando pulled back and steadied a hand at your hip, the other pulling your cheeks apart as he finally slid home. Inch after devastating inch filled your cunt, the familiar stretch on just the right side of painful. A sinful, wrecked groan came from behind you and despite yourself, despite being face down ass up for a warrior, you felt powerful. 

“S-so fucking tight,” Mando stuttered out as he gave a small push forward, pressing even further into your heat despite being buried to the hilt already, short, aborted thrusts as he tried to let you adjust to his girth. 

“Please, please, please,” You huffed out with each exhale, and if you were in your right mind you might have been at least slightly embarrassed by the desperation of your begging, but you were aching for him to move. You clenched around him, reveling in the punched-out sound it drew from him, and finally, finally he drew back halfway to shove back into you sharply. 

Mando didn’t fuck you - the word ‘fuck’ wasn’t enought to encompass the way he drove into you over and over, shoved you further into the sheets with his teeth buried in your shoulder. You wanted to be destroyed, and Maker did he deliver, pressed against that sweet spot deep inside you and making your writhe beneath him. It took a moment to find your voice amongst the harsh thrusts, but the sound of you whimpering ‘Mando…’ over and over had your lover delivering a sharp swat to your ass before yanking you up by your hair and bracing your ass on his thighs, his pace unfaltering. 

“S-such a sweet little thing,” Mando stuttered, one hand holding you by your neck, keeping you flush against him, and the other sliding down to toy with your clit, those calloused fingers rubbing in tight circles until you pressed your head to his shoulder and wailed. “Sound so pretty for me.”

You wanted to tell him how good he felt stretching you out, how much you loved this, how much you loved him, but there was no speaking when his thrusts punched the very air from your lungs. So you buried your hand in his hair and tightened, rolling your hips into every push of his own. The sharp pull of his hair seemed to egg him on and his hand slid up from your throat to tilt your head and capture your lips with his. 

The angle was awkward, the kiss all teeth and tongue, and you wouldn’t trade it for anything. Mando drank in your every moan, every whine, and sang out his own in response, poured them out in a never ending stream that left you washed out in pleasure and pride. You reduced him to this. The tight clench of your cunt around him left the strong warrior slashed down to his most base instincts, left him to bury himself in you over and over as if he couldn’t bear to hold back. 

Your begging was almost incoherent, words broken off halfway with each harsh thrust, but it all melted into one low cry when Mando toyed with your clit and ground against that sweet spot against you and you broke. The only thing that kept you upright was Mando’s strong grip on your body as your pleasure crested, sparked out all across your body and left you weak in the aftermath of ecstasy. Your hand fell loose in his hair, still tangled in his curls but just barely staying put. 

Mando laid you down almost sweetly, flipped your weak body around to lie on your back and settled between your thighs. He growled low in your ear when you hooked your ankles over his lower back and whined so prettily for him as he pushed himself deep into your cunt - right where he belonged. His thrusts were shorter, stunted in his relentless chase for release inside of your body, leaving you hanging in the precipice between pleasure and overstimulation. 

“Feel so good,” You whispered in his ear, gasping when he buried his face in your neck and latched onto your skin with rough presses of teeth and tongue. The pace of his thrusts stuttered when you clenched around him, urging him to let go.

“Where?” Mando grunted low into your skin, unable to find the words to finish his thoughts but you knew. You knew what he wanted, the desperate want you both shared.

“Inside!” You gasped out in a rough voice, almost desperate in tone, and locked your legs around his waist tighter, using the newfound leverage to meet each of his thrusts. “Please, please cum inside me.”

The choked off sound in your ear was downright addictive and paired with the airtight grip on your hips as he pressed flush against your body and flooded you with his release....well, you wouldn’t be able to live without it, without him. Mando collapsed, crushed you underneath his weight with his cock still nestled in your tight heat. Maker, he was heavy but you never felt safer. He panted in your ear, the ghost of each breath curling across your skin like a loving caress and you could feel the curve of his lips where he smiled against you, a smile you matched. 

Your fingers buried in his hair once more, scratching against his scalp in slow, gentle circles, and the delighted whimper he gave sounded like it came from anyone but the rough and tumble warrior who just railed you into oblivion. One of his hands writhed up between your chests to cup your breast, the gun-calloused skin of his palm a harsh contrast to the soft, unmarred skin of your chest. 

“Mando…” You chuckled in a tone of warning when those fingers tweaked your nipple, sending sparks echoing across your skin. 

“Din,” He grunted in your ear before taking the lobe between his teeth and worrying it with his tongue, only pulling back when you made a small noise of confusion. “Din Djarin. You should know the name of the man who claims you.”

Your heart stuttered, racing to match the pace of your thoughts. This...this was a huge deal for him, you knew that. Your arms tightened around him almost of their own volition as it hit you - this union meant as much to him as it did to you. 

Mando - Din was yours. 

You were his. 

“Cyare,” Din whispered at the small noise that left you, propping himself up on his elbows to hover over you despite not being able to see you. You followed his movements as best you could, not wanting to jostle around enough for his softening cock to slip from your body.  “Are you okay? Was...Was this not-”

“No! No, I...damn it,” You stumbled over your words in your rush to reassure him, reaching up to hesitantly place your hands on either side of his face, giving him plenty of time to stop you in case you crossed a line. He didn’t. Rough stubble met your fingers and you laughed wetly in disbelief. You couldn’t believe your luck. “I love you. I have from the start.”

Din’s breath caught in his throat and he pressed his face back into your neck as he returned the sentiment, his words muffled and cracking under the weight they carried. You giggled at the way his tongue met your neck, surely adding to the multitude of marks he already left there, but tilted your head back for more access nonetheless. He was right - he laid his claim on you, buried his seed as deep inside you as he could and left the imprint of his teeth across your skin for all to see. 

“A clan of three, right?” You said before kissing his temple, yours eyes slipping closed as your exhausted reared. 

“Yes, sweet girl. A clan of three.” Din rumbled. The vibration of his chest only lulled you further into slumber and the last thing you heard before the sleep overtook you was Din whispering, almost to himself, “My own little aliit.”

[bangteamhyuk]

In This Rain

Genre:  Mafia (AU), Action, Suspense/Thriller, Smut

Mature content

Word Count: 4,962k

Characters: Police Captain!Namjoon, Police Officer! Reader, Mafia Boss! Jungkook.

Warning: mentions of drug use, graphic violence, language, oral sex, penetrative sex, implied dom!reader, emotional manipulation, mention of psychopathic characters, implied torture

Synopsis:  You admire your captain, your beloved Capt. Kim Namjoon. You admire him so much that you wanted to be by his side always, well, quite literally. Under his office desk, inside his apartment, on his bed and even on his dangerous mission against a vicious Mafia leader named Jeon Jungkook.

He’s been so obsessed in Jungkook, his formidable enemy on his entire career, that he’s been trying to apprehend him for years. Until both of you uncovered an unsettling truth as to why he always slithers: there’s a mole within your department.

Namjoon kicked the door hard with his combat boots, took cover immediately from the wall behind him, before aiming his gun to the direction of the open entryway.

“Freeze!” he shouted.

Yet he was the one that was left frozen at the scene. Two men, thin as a stick, were staring blankly at the ceiling. Clearly passed out with rubbers wrapped around their arms, old scabs and fresh jabs on their skin. Several discarded needles were left lying on the floor.

They look so oblivious from the presence of Namjoon and his team that you can’t help but call him out “Namjoon, I think we’re late” you shook your head, as you watched their cold and drugged out bodies sitting on a plastic chair, heads resting on the air.

“We are, they’re both dead” Hoseok said after checking their pulse. He stared at them for a moment, as if saying a prayer as he shuts their eyes gently with his finger.

Namjoon walked around the room and picked a used foil and a paper with logo of a lotus flower “Jungkook…” he mumbled to himself as he crumpled the paper and threw it on the floor in fury.

“Are you sure it’s him?” you went to pick it up and checked. It was definitely the symbol of his organized syndicate.

“Positive” Namjoon’s blood suddenly rushed in and felt nauseous at the thought, as he shut his eyes, hoping that he was wrong about it.

“It was a close one...” Hoseok rummaged through the pockets of the two men, but he found none.

“I was so sure, they’ll be here. Him and his men. But why does it look like they knew... You think” you shut your eyes and gasped, realizing what Namjoon might have just thought of earlier. “there’s a mole within the Department?” you continued, slowly turning around to see Namjoon’s reaction. His face turned grim and just weakly nodded.

“I trust that you two would keep this a secret, until we find who it is…” Namjoon swore. It wasn’t about money or his ego any longer, he wanted to end this. For years. Whatever this was, he wanted to stop people from dying, stop wasting innocent lives, end the fear of women and children always being on the brink of death.

“Roger” Hoseok nodded.

“Roger, Captain!” you blinked and stood up. You and Hoseok tapped Namjoon’s shoulder, assuring him that you two were on his side. Always on his side.

You and Hoseok stood behind closed doors, but it was very apparent that the chiefs and the  Department heads were clearly upset at the result of your team’s recent mission.

“Goddamit! We told you to think things through Kim and you blew it! You got one shot! One fucking shot, and you didn’t even get to meet a single strand of his hair!” the deputy chief exclaimed.

“What a waste of the city tax, really, you haven’t given us any valuable result” the Department head, fixed his paper and put everything inside his briefcase.

Namjoon just stood there, taking every thing silently. He was called names before, been spatted, got hit, everything. He’s the man who’s been through all horrible things and yet he still took it in. No wonder why you’ve like this guy, there’s something incredibly attractive about an underdog filled with potentials. It’s as if you’re hearing a club of hyenas around a lion, waiting for it to roar. He was the kind of leader you want to solemnly swear your loyalty, and that was the reason why you were there.

After the sham meeting, you and Hoseok just followed Namjoon towards your office room. He was clearly angry and frustrated, as well. But more than that he was determined to find another chance to get close to Jungkook . Namjoon went to his desk silently, and studied recent reports and profiles of people on his desk, piled and unkept.

Hoseok, feeling unnecessarily guilty, excused himself to get the team sandwiches from a nearby store.

You on the other hand, had something in mind to ease Namjoon’s frustration. “Hey there” you whispered on his ear. “Not here, Y/N. Not today” his eyes still concentrated on the screen. You gently pressed his shoulders, unbothered at his plea and made gentle circular motion, caressing his stiff shoulder blades. You slowly crouched down to kiss his ears and traced it down his neck. “You know what reminds me of your stiffness?” you chuckled.

“I said stop!” his quick reflex surprised you, as he held on to your wrist. His eyes stern, full of resolved. You stood up, and knew that he wasn’t up for any games.

“I just heard everything from the meeting. It’s hard to miss.” You folded your arms, as you watched him turn his back on you again and type disordered words on his screen. “Try, typing Gwangjin-gu, April 16…” you reached out for his hands to guide his finger from each letter on the keyboard, as he suddenly groaned softly to the sensation of your warm hands.

You smirked, seeing him freeze for a second. You crouched back down again and slowly reached for his legs hiding underneath his desk. “You know, it takes Hoseok about half an hour to get back? No one’s around. I’m sure you needed to let loose of that tension” you spoke softly, while caressing his legs. He slowly turned around from his seat and opened his legs.

“Give me 10 minutes tops, Captain” you smirked as you knelt down, and unclasped his belt.

Namjoon just stared at you blankly for a second, thoughtless and unsure. But as soon as he felt the warmth that you give right in the middle of his legs, he cursed and responded in pure ecstasy. You watched him toss his head and covered his mouth, trying not to cry out your name, but you love it. You love seeing your beloved Captain, the one people look up with so much pride and respect, becomes susceptible to your touch.

You were lounging in the smoking area during your break time, even though you aren’t smoker. You just like being outside, on a bench, and beside a vending coffee machine where you could refill your own cup.

“Hm, Sun Tzu’s Art of War” you heard Namjoon’s voice from behind. You nodded in agreement, as you finished the last line of the page and flipped it to the next.

“Read this about 9 times, still holds true” you replied, not leaving your gaze towards the book.

“I got a lead” he pulled out his cup from the vending machine and scoot beside you on the bench. You closed your book and turned to face him. Namjoon peered behind you, and looked around before he dropped the name “Seokjin”. You squint your eyes, trying to figure out how Namjoon arrived at his conclusion.

“You mean Kim Seokjin from the Hi-tech Crime Unit?” you spoke softly towards him, making sure no one hears even when it was only the two of you in the area.

He nodded, grinning. “I always wonder how he received information about them, everyone in his unit is as competent as he is but he would always get the best lead”

You smiled, finally beginning to piece things together. “It does seem odd Namjoon. It doesn’t make sense, but it does seem bizarre? How does he get those information?” you stared at Namjoon and smirked “I never thought of that, Captain. As always, that’s pretty smart of you to---”

“Y/N!” you heard someone call.

“Speak of the devil” you smiled at Namjoon then at Seokjin.

“Meet you after office hours?” Seokjin ran up to you, handing you a bag of sandwich. Namjoon tilt his head in confusion.

“Yeah sure” you blushed, turning your head to the floor at Seokjin’s sweet gesture.

“Y/N, are you…. Are you two going out? Since when?” Namjoon stood up, puzzled at the scenario. Clearly, you have left him out of the picture, but it’s not like you owe him anything. Besides weren’t you two clear about the position you two are in? Just colleagues trying to help each other out? Out of convenience?

“Kind of like that. Well, you never asked about our private lives, Cap” you chuckled. Not that he doesn’t care, but you know how much he respects his colleague’s personal space. Well, except on some occasion when you two needed to satisfy each other’s need. “Give me a minute, I just need to talk to my superior” you faced Seokjin for a moment and watched him wait for you at a distance.

“Cap, I’m sorry.” You cleared your throat and continued “The news surprised me too, and I didn’t know how to tell you. Can you trust me? I’ll try to look on to this. I swear, feelings won’t get involved. If I happen to find anything that might point a connection against Seokjin and Jungkook, I’ll let you know immediately”

“And what if he is? Are you okay with it? You know what will happen if he becomes part of our custody” he asked, worriedly.

You shut your eyes and nodded “I’m aware. I’ve been seeing him Jin for half a month now. It’s nothing compared to you, Cap” you looked down, refusing to look back at him, not when you just confessed your feelings for him albeit indirectly.

“Y/N…” he spoke softly.

“You don’t have to say anything.” You shook your head “I know this is purely work, lives are on the line…” You begrudgingly replied, then you paused. “That’s why I’ll make sure I’ll get compensated well on this” you slowly turned your gazed at him, now smirking.

“I can only pay what the government give--- ” you stopped him mid-sentence by pointing a finger on his lip, raising yourself up, tip-toed.

“Not that silly” He tilt his head again in confusion. “You, wrapped around my fingers. Go figure.” You whispered on his ear and chuckled. You turned around, and left him wondering on his own. It took him a moment before he realized what you meant. He bashfully chuckled at the thought.

After spending more time with Seokjin for months, you’ve finally gathered valuable information to report directly to Namjoon, which entails you in meeting him straight to his own apartment each night.

“Are you ready for tomorrow?” he asked, as he gathered his boxer he left from the floor. You remained still in bed, panting after doing a marathon with Namjoon. Namjoon opened his window to let the cold breeze enter his dull room.

You turned sideways and watched him moved out from the bed, savoring his bareness. “Nearly, ready”

He tied his discarded condom and threw it on the trash bin “Y/N, whatever happens tomorrow. I just want to let you know that I---” he paused, trying to construct what he was about to say.

You sat up, despite remaining bare “Shh” You reached him out for a kiss.

“If things goes bad tomorrow, I want you to know that you mean so much to me” he took your wrist and kissed the back of your hand, his lips pressed hard as if hoping that his pure intentions will get through your skin.

You shook you head. “Aren’t I just a colleague, Namjoon?” you smiled weakly, reminding him of the reality that you are just there for him… for his own convenience.

He cupped your cheek and kissed you again. “You’re my partner, in everything Y/N”

You parted and smile. “I’m glad you feel that way” you pushed him back to bed, and pulled his boxers off again, almost ripping it to two. You wanted to let him know he wasn’t wrong, about feeling that you are his.

He was clearly surprised at your reaction, and flustered upon seeing you right above him. You smiled, amused at the view. To see your beloved Captain in such a vulnerable position. And like a clockwork, you sat comfortably on his waist as you pulled his wrists towards you. You forced his palms open with yours and directed it to your chest, letting him feel you again.

You closed your eyes, as you let him cup you gently “Captain..” you breathed his name while you shut your eyes, and began moving your hips slowly.

“Shit” he quickly got hard again, and you felt that. You felt his excitement again after you shamelessly teased your beloved Captain. You took a sealed condom from  the bed side table and placed it on his harden length. He pulled one of his hand away and held on to it, then guided his length towards your entrance. You opened your eyes and smile.

“Ready for a second?” you asked. You watched him nod, as he began to push it in within you,  both of you cursed almost synchronously at the ecstatic sensation. You tossed your head, and began moving your hips.

He held on to your waist, and you relished on it. You relished the way your Captain held on to you, you relished at the sight of seeing someone strong like him depended on you for comfort and affirmation. Exhilarated at the view of him below you, exhilarated at the thought of your own superior, down at your mercy.

Seokjin informed the Investigation Department again, which the assignment was promptly relayed again to your team: “Apprehend Jungkook and his men in #32 Namdo Building Gangseo-gu District”

At the same time, Namjoon informed the Investigation Department of his suspicion against Seokjin.

“You sure, Kim? If you’re wrong about this, not only will you lose Seokjin’s trust but your whole credibility as a Captain…” Mr. Song, one of the Investigation head, reminded Namjoon.

“I am certain sir. One of my partner, Y/N, was able to gather pieces of evidence that may point out his guilt in conniving with Jeon Jungkook” he bowed and handed him a manilla envelope containing the things you took from Seokjin, secretly.

“Very well, we will take Seokjin in to custody after I examine these things. Good luck on your mission” he bid Namjoon good luck as he watched Namjoon ran towards his car while it rained.

“Point A to D clear” you heard Hoseok speak from you and Namjoon’s ear piece.

“Copy” you subtly replied from your microphone hidden inside your shirt. “Ready, Mr. Kim?” you fixed his necktie inside the car. He didn’t reply, his eyes were burning with hatred. You’ve never seen him this determined to be able to see Jungkook, his formidable enemy, finally in the flesh.

You and Namjoon, took great lengths over these past few weeks to be able to secure a seat on this secret meeting with the boss himself, Jeon Jungkook. Despite at his tender age of 22, he was able to amass a fortune more than his father and his forefathers could ever gain. And now at the age of 24, he was able to bring down all his enemies. Rumor has it, he would clear out his enemy’s entire family line so that no one could ever attempt to take revenge against the whole Jeon family.

But Namjoon was ready to risk it all, even if his own family was on the line. He was willing to wager everything he has, just to end his lunacy. Yet he still couldn’t bring to himself the idea of risking and losing you against Jeon.

“Y/N, if anything goes bad, I want you to run as far as you could. Away from this, okay? You know how vindictive Jungkook can be” he stared at you, longingly.

“Joon” you shook your head and corrected yourself “I mean Captain, I’m trained to face whatever remember? Whatever happens, I’ll show up. It’s part of my job---”

“Okay, lovebirds, enough chit-chat. You know this is recorded right? We’ll be handling our conversation to the heads, unless you wanted to let them know about your secret affair or whatever this is… God, it’s awkward listening to you two!” Hoseok said on the other line.

You chuckled. “Can we have this off-record? Anyway, he’s right Captain. Time’s running. You need to get to your sit there now, as Mr. Kim the representative of Fiery Brothel of Songpa-gu District. I’ll stay here, make sure everything is working according to plan, alright?” you pat his collar and checked his ear piece if it was greatly secured. “All dashing and ready!” you smiled at him.

Namjoon introduced himself as Mr. Kim to a man in red suit “I speak on behalf of my superior Mr. Co, who manages Fiery Brothel in Songpa-gu owned by the Jeon” The man in red suit just nod and led you inside the building.

At first, Namjoon was confused as to why he was led inside a burger chain. Then he turned to the left hallway and entered inside the “authorized personnel staff room”, Namjoon followed. The room was cramped and filled with cleaning tools, food and personal hygiene products and other things.

The man pulled out the fire extinguisher from the glass box, where he found a button hidden behind it. He suddenly pressed it twice, paused then thrice, paused then once. It was a secret code. The wall started to separate from top to bottom, unfurling another secret entryway that leads to a speakeasy bar-cum-opium den.

Namjoon quickly recognized few faces around, from the head of the other government department, to local celebrities, even the sons and daughter of influential businessmen were there. Gambling, out of wits, high from the aroma of opium mixed with other things.

They continued to walk, the man in red suit clearly unbothered, as if it was regular business. Namjoon gulped and tried to calm himself, putting a mental note on everything he saw and commit it to his memory. He’ll be needing it once he get his hands on Jungkook. Everything he sees right now, everything he owns, he wanted to see him lose it. He wanted his downfall. he was confident that after that night he’ll finally put everything to its end.

“This is as far as I can lead you sir” the man stopped in front of the door, bowed and opened it for Namjoon.

There it was the high table. Only 6 men, sitting on each side of the table, making him the last and the seventh member to the meeting. His heart was pounding fast, hands starting to grow cold, shaking uncontrollably. Little sweat beads were forming behind his neck, it’s as if he was drugged and out of wits as well, except his feeling was driven by his own fear.

Just a few second upon entering, he saw Taehyung and Jimin enter first from the front door of the room. He presumed it was an exclusive entryway for Jungkook and his trusted men, in case something bad happens, but nothing bad ever happened when they’re there. Taehyung and Jimin were his only trusted men. They were skilled, precise, ruthless and cold to the core. They would blindly kill anyone and even everyone for Jungkook, even if it cost their lives.

Jimin, narrowed his eyes towards Namjoon while he chew on his bubblegum. Taehyung, on the other hand, watched the other men shake in fear too. All were waiting for the boss himself to enter the room.

The room was white and bare, almost blinding to the eyes. The only color that was present are their ashen faces (except Taehyung and Jimin), their black clothes and the long dark-red oaken wood table and its matching chair. And finally, he was there, all in flesh.

No longer a picture posted on his office walls. No longer a dream, that woke up him up each night in fright. This was Jeon Jungkook.  Young, tall, handsome, almost perfect that he can pass up as a god. Well, technically, he is, because he is the kind who plays like one. Because any mistake they omit in his presence can swiftly translate to a painful death.

Everyone rose from their seat to show their respect and fear towards him. Jungkook smiled. Too kind and too sweet, as if he looked innocent. But everyone knew better, he wasn’t the slightest bit of it. When he sat from his chair on the front, everyone followed, except Jimin and Taehyung who stood there to watch over.

Jungkook listened to each person during the meeting, he was attentive, alert and smart. He was the kind of leader that would bring shame to the whole police department, perhaps the whole country. Everything that runs out of his mouth were well-thought, intelligible and thorough. He didn’t leave a single issue unresolved, and the men quickly took note of it. The men were so scared that they just nodded without any further question. Jungkook like things brief, and hated being interrupted. The moment he finds someone that annoys him, Taehyung, a sharp shooter, will place a single bullet straight through their head. Not even letting them finish their first word.

“Actually, I’m sure you are all aware of the situation you are in right now, don’t you? I called everyone for a meeting because some of you are doing a very, very poor job” he grinned at everybody, nose a bit scrunched, like a harmlessly little bunny pouncing sunshine on each person on the table. Yet everyone looked down, nervous and grim. So did Namjoon.

Namjoon wasn’t aware of it. Neither anyone on the team. What was Jungkook thinking? Did he knew? Did Seokjin informed him that they’ll be attempting to take him in? Sh--

“Shit!” one of them men screamed in fear as he tried to ran towards the door, but before he could take another step from his sit, Jimin managed to throw his dagger in his head which passed through his eye and pinned his body down the floor.

“Tsk” Jungkook shook his head in disappointment. “Atleast, we were able to eliminate a coward in this group. Anyone wants to follow?” he raised his eyebrow as he chuckled again. Clearly entertained at the sight of blood.

No one dared to speak, not even a sound of whimper. “Very well, now that no one wants to speak for themselves, I would, for everyone’s behalf. I need to keep my business flowing, and you all are doing a terrible job. Thus, it’s unfortunate to inform everyone in this room that no one will survive today…” Right upon hearing it, Taehyung fired his gun towards 3 other men on his side and Jimin with his daggers flying and pinning the remaining 2 heads to the wall on his side, simultaneously and precise. “Except you, Kim Namjoon.” He blinks slowly and smiled at his direction.

“How does it feel to finally meet your nightmare?” he stood up and went to his direction.

Suddenly, Namjoon heard Hoseok cursing on the other end “Namjoon, it’s a trap! They knew! If you’re still there, run! Quickly! The mole told everything about us!”

“Where’s Y/N?” Namjoon asked Hoseok, but you only heard noises from his end.

“Y/N?” Jungkook asked. “You know I don’t like it when I don’t have someone’s full attention”

“Where is she? My partner! Did you take her? Did you kill her?” Namjoon immediately stood up from his seat, demanding Jungkook for an answer. Jimin swiftly threw his dagger to pin Namjoon’s legs back to his seat while Namjoon cried in shock and pain .

“You know I wouldn’t dare you pissing Jimin any longer Namjoon, unlike Taehyung he doesn’t have much patience. If you try to move again, I swear the next time will be a bullet from Taehyung’s gun and it’s far more painful than Jimin’s knife… and I can’t assure you where he wants to aim it. Sit” he spoke calmly, and strangely alluring yet intimidating.

Hoseok spoke again “The mole is here! Seokji----- scchhhht” Taehyung went to Namjoon side and pulled the ear piece away from him, threw it on the floor and stepped on it.

“Where is she?!” Namjoon demanded, eyes intensely fixated on Jungkook.

Taehyung crouched down and slapped his mouth. “You’re not asked to speak” he took the broken ear piece from the floor and pushed it inside Namjoon’s mouth “You better listen!”

Namjoon gagged a bit and spit the shattered pieces “Enough Taehyung, I bet he’s got it” Jungkook commanded.

“You and Seokjin will pay for what you did to Y/N!” he screamed, his fear already absent upon realizing the possibility of losing you for good.

“Seokjin? Who is he?” Jungkook chuckled. “While, it’s true there’s a mole within you” he sat on the table, just inches away Namjoon. “It’s not Seokjin, whoever he may be, I never met the guy. He sounded like a nice guy” he shrugs, still smiling. “Give you a clue, try to think who is out of reach right now?” he taps his temple.

Namjoon paused. When he realized who it was, his blood rushed up to his head, leaving him cold, nauseated and in pain. “No, it can’t be”

There you were, entering the room from the door in front of everyone inside. Safe and unharmed “Hey love, I miss you so much!” you quickly ran towards Jungkook and jumped to give him a long pressing kiss.

“No… but why?” Namjoon’s eyes started to cloud with his own tears.

“Love, why don’t you tell him?” Jungkook pouted as he turned to face you, and pulled you in closer, letting you sit on his lap.

“Well, I got bored here. I decided I want to play police. That’s why I’m here, but I got bored too, so I decided to come back” you smiled at Namjoon then at Jungkook “to you, love”

Jungkook chuckled, his nose scrunched again in a bunny like manner, as he point his finger against your nose and tapped it “That’s my girl, isn’t she cute when she gets bored?” he asked Namjoon.

“But everything, what we’ve been through, were they all lies?”

You shook your head still smiling “Not everything, no. Well, except everything about Seokjin, and the brothel and Mr.Co…” you rolled your eyes, sluggishly “Didn’t I tell you I’ll make sure everything goes according to plan? I mean, my plan that is…” you shrugged.

“How?” Namjoon’s head fell to his chest, clearly desperate, praying that everything he was hearing from you weren’t true.

“Well for starters, it’s really not hard to fake documents, my background then my history… You’ve seen the opium den earlier didn’t you? The head of National Office Record is pretty much a regular these days, we just gave him a little freebies and then we’re good. But you sir, you were pretty interesting, I really had a great time!” you nodded.

“It was actually me who subtly planted the idea that it was Seokjin, it was me who gave Seokjin information, the exact location and a glimpse of our plan, well without telling him I am part of the group that is” you playfully traced your finger on Jungkook’s neck, letting Namjoon watch while he aches at everything. The reality that was unfolding before him.

“I was the one who curated random stuff as your evidence, made up stories about a non-existent Mr. Co and the Fiery Brothel in Songpa-gu, reserved a seat for you in the meeting and voila!  You’re here! Isn’t great, love?” you gave Jungkook a peck on his lips and he nodded.

“Y/N” Namjoon cried

“You know Namjoon? I really like you, that’s pretty much true. But this man right here” you turn to Jungkook and playfully squeezed his cheek “I love him so much, I’m willing to give my life for him. That’s the difference. To be by your side, quite literally and to be by his side, forever, wherever I may be” Jungkook giggled at your declaration for his love.

“Please say it’s a lie! Tell me, you’re being forced by him, just say it. Please, I love you!” Namjoon screamed

“Stop, Namjoon” you watched him in pity. “Didn’t I tell you? We’re just bunch of colleagues…”

“Boss, what are you going to do with him?” Jimin’s eyes remained focused against Namjoon while he pops his gum.

“Love, what do you plan?” Jungkook gazed at you lovingly, while he was fixing your hair.

“He’s where he is supposed to be. A captain who just lost the trust of his superior and his men, just because of a woman. Isn’t it a tragic story, the story of a naïve pawn? This way love, you’ll be able to move freely with your business.” You stared at Jungkook’s lips, resisting to kiss him while he revel at your impregnable intellect.

“As usual, impressive as always” Jungkook nods as he kissed you again. “Let him live, so he’ll be able to tell our tale, a precautionary one to not screw with us”

“Y/N” Namjoon pleaded.

“Namjoon, you were the best Captain really. Thank you for the memories” you smiled.

Then Taehyung swiftly hit Namjoon in the face, leaving him unconscious, but only for a while.

Namjoon blinked at the sensation of rain drop falling over his face. Next thing he knew, people in scrubs were rushing towards him, raised him up from the pavement outside the hospital and secured his tired body on a stretcher.

“Sir, are you okay? Do you know where you are? Do you remember who left you here?” Namjoon was so oblivious at the moment, that he just tried to pull himself up to see if everything that happened earlier was a dream.

Until something fell from the inside of his coat. He picked it up “The Art of War by Sun Tzu?” he opened a page and saw a little note from you that says

“An enemy of my enemy is my FRIEND :) - Y/N”

Even when this rain stops, when the clouds go away I stand here, just the same Without saying anything, looking at the world There, a not so beautiful me is looking at myself In this rain In this rain

Rain by BTS

A/N: Thank you for giving time and reaching this far. This is my first attempt in making a smut fic so please be kind >.< This fic is actually my birthday gift for Slyn (SLL-AW Fictions) she’s a writer from YT who pushed me to try doing one too. Her bias is Jungkook so, naturally, the story ended with Y/N falling in the arms of Jungkook.

This is also nod and an attempt to honor one of my all time favorite fanfic, the BEST EVER CREATED on the internet about BTS: “House of Card by Sugamins” (if you know, you know 😉 )

I am so whipped for Master Jeon Jungkook that I just 👁️👄👁️. I didn’t want to recreate the verse, because I just can’t... I could never. House of Card is like a whole level of superiority and I’m just...a nursery...

Although, I borrowed the dark environment and the emotions involved in the characters... but I am totally disclaiming it to be a part of the verse. I’m a huge fan, I’m sorry I’m geeking out 😭 (Sugamins if you ever see this, I love you and thank you!! 😭 huge fan!!)

Slyn’s favorite genre are mafia, action, and romance (specifically with Jungkook). She’s aware of House of Cards too so yeah..

Anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed “In The Rain” :).

PS.  If you haven’t read “House of Card” please do! It’s on a03! Google it! BUT YOU HAVE TO BE 18 and above... and open to like practically everything! Read the warning signs first before you proceed. But I swear, it’s the best out there!!! (you’ll know why it hit a million views once you finished. That fic should be in a book, and I’ll gladly buy several copies!

ALSO, I’m so sorry for making Y/N a villain/psychopath. As well as Jungkook, Jimin and Taehyung. Forgive me. It was raining hard one day while listening to Rain on by BTS and the ending scene just came up to my mind and I happen to work on it since... :<

[chiwhorei]

who prays for the headsman?

paring: k. kyoutani x fem!reader

genre: angst, smut, 18+ minors dni

word count: 3.2k

warnings: size kink, crying, oral (f. receiving), major character death, pseudo-incest, stepcest, violence (not a gorey depiction), stabbing, a mention of blood, medieval beheading, angst okay this is sad you have been warned

a/n: Hello! HQHQ monthly collab time, sinners! I’m super excited to share this with you all, it was truly a work of love. All of the other amazing fantasy collab pieces can be found here!

hymns: murder song (5, 4, 3, 2, 1) - AURORA, the judge - twenty one pilots

“The girl’s mother and I are to be wed with haste,” Kyoutani Kentarou’s father pats his small head, smoothing down the blond locks, “Be sure to make y/n feel comfortable. She isn’t your blood, but she’s your family now, son.”

From the moment his father brought you and your mother home, still wrapped in thick mourning veils and tears, his cross to bare was you.

You needed barely an introduction before melting into the comfort of Kentarou. Wrapping your small hands around his middle and burying your face against his neck. Your stiff black dress crinkles against him. The contact was a magnetic, instantaneous spell. Like moth meeting flame, and Kyoutani would burn for it until the next lifetime. The bubbling, itching hellfire marring his tanned skin for two decades.

It’s easier to see the resulting moments in pieces. Shiny, silver blade raised high and gleaming in the light, a sharp swipe of the weapon through the stale air, and finally a thump of weight against the ground below. Still, quiet, and absolute. There’s no escaping the headman’s blade.

The virgin light of dawn rouses Kyoutani from a fitful night of sleep, he stretches his arm out to find your form and only catches the empty shell of blankets you’ve left behind. You’re always awake to greet the cresting rays of light as if they need your permission before ascending to greet the rest of the townspeople. You are the end and beginning of each day.

He finds you sat by the stone fireplace, nightdress hanging off of your shoulders and shawl wrapped tightly to keep the winter’s air at bay. You’ve always preferred the springtime. Even so, the smile that turns at the ends of your lips warms his body like the pouring of melted honey. He basks in you for a moment from afar, as close as he ever feels worthy of being.

“How did you sleep?” Your hand reaches out as he moves farther into the cottage’s main room, touching the warmth of his bare chest. Kyoutani pulls you into him, pressing a kiss to your temple and folding your head against the crook of his neck. Your question goes unanswered, as you both already know: there’s never much rest gifted to the headsman.

A tall wisteria tree sits just outside of town. It’s branches are long and decaying. No flowers bloom on a tree the gods have forgotten. But that doesn't deter you from airy footsteps carrying you to it’s base.

“There’s nothing you can do, y/n,” Kyoutani presses, reaching his arms out to ensure you don’t fall, “there’s no fixing rotten roots.”

You scoff, bunching up your skirt at the ends and kneeling at the large trunk.

Where you bound forward without care, your Kentarou is always there to catch you. As you stoop down by the lifeless tree, his stern eyes narrow. You lay your hands against the rough bark, rubbing upwards and back down. All you need is the notion of life. Your eyes shut in concentration, fingers dancing along the coarse texture. It’s there, deep inside, waiting for you to tug at and rouse back to life. You can see it just behind your eyelids, purples and long flora hanging down, surrounding you in it’s beauty.

“H-how did you do that, y/n?” Kyoutani is cemented in shock behind you, where naked, ghoulish limbs once sat are now filled with swaying, violet life.

“I dunno, I get a tingling feeling in my hands. Here,” You pull him down to sit on the ground, pressing your palms to his cheeks. Your touch is like balm on a wound, he closes his eyes and leans in further. His forehead presses against your own. Your hands cradle the sides of his face, thumbs tracing over the soft skin in soothing patterns.

This is wrong, even as a boy no taller than prairie grass; he knows how wrong this feeling is.

“Do you feel it, Kenta?”

Kyoutani’s job isn’t to decide a person's fate, but the blood still soaks his hands all the same. His walk home is always to the beat of heavy, warning footsteps. His figure is looming, shrouded in thick leather and chain medal. The faulted axe hangs by his side, gripped tightly and weighed down with the heavy smell of iron. He counts his sins every night, prays for absolution but still scrubs the blood of strangers off of his arms and wraps you up in them.

“You fucking bastard,” a strangers voice sounds behind Kyoutani like a siren. He hears the rustling of critics followed by the feeling of a stone thrown against his back.

“You murdered my brother. He was a good man and you killed him.” Kyoutani sighs deeply, he knows the blame will fall on him with every swing his blade makes, so any retort is swallowed. There’s never much reason to quabble, as word travels in a small town like water through a sieve.

“I know who you are, Kyoutani Kentarou. Your father was a good man, and your sweet little sister grew up to be quite the-” All reason shatters under Kyoutani’s boot in an instant, feet carrying him in his hecklers’ direction. His clenched fist meeting the man’s eye socket with deadly force, vision blurring and reason fleeting. He shouldn’t be handing out home brewed justice, but there’s no rationale exercised when your name passes through a strangers mouth.

Kyoutani is a strong man, but fighting three against one would be a losing battle no matter what. No matter how noble his intent is, a sharp knife to the stomach is impossible to ignore. The stranger twists the dagger, bringing his face to Kyouatani’s ear.

“Say hi to your dear ole’ dad for me, eh?”

He hears the man’s snide voice against the pounding in his head. He feels cold and far away, falling down a tunnel with no bottom.

“They’ll be coming for you, y/n,” Your lover's voice lilts against your back, but you don’t turn to meet his eyes just yet. Your hands busy themselves against the familiar grooves of bark. The wisteria’s flowers create a sanctuary from the cruelty of the outside world. It’s a sanctuary, but this spot is one of original sin. The first brush of lips sealed fate years ago that will be actualized by daybreak.

“I know, Kenta-” Your soft voice usually calms the blonde man in front of you, but under the plague of circumstance, your words are sharp spikes against his heart.

“Why did you do it then? How could you be so careless? The mark of a witch means only one thing.” Kyoutani’s stern voice cuts you off, holding you in place, “You never think about the consequences of your reckless heart. Look at me, woman.” His body towers over you, broad chest against your back. His hand finds your jaw, pulling it harshly to force eye contact. Darkened brown eyes fall upon your watery ones and his angry facade shatters like pottery in the small space between your two bodies. You sniffle in his hold, fat tears run down your cheeks as you stutter a response.

“I couldn’t let you die, you’re the only family I have left. I- I love you, Kenta.” A sob rips through you, the declaration isn’t a new one, but it’s context is uniquely heartbreaking. Kyoutani pulls you into him immediately, wrapping strong, scarred arms around your shoulders. You cling to him, a piece of history repeating itself as it likes to do, wrapped in each other and the royal purples of wisteria.

Your lips quiver an inch away from his, stained with salty tears. Kyoutani feels the warmth of plush skin dangled in front of him, there’s an urgency rushing through him where he’s usually hesitant. There isn’t much more time. Without consulting the angel on his right shoulder, two large hands cup your face and pull your lips against his own.

Your cries are muffled by the sloppy pull of your own tongue into Kyoutani’s mouth. As his traces over yours with a chorus of nips and licks, his hands fall to your waist to bunch up the fabric against your hips. The action causes your body to press flush to his crotch.

“We have one more night together, Kenta. Please.” Your words don’t need much appraisal, you could ask Kyoutani to pull the skies down with his bare hands and he would tear the blankets off of any gods above without a second thought. One more night.

Kyoutani unwraps himself from around your form to sit down on the spongy grass below. The terrain is soft and forgiving despite its location in the dense forest. He watches you above him, angelically outlined in the soft moonlight. The personification of virtue and goodness glimmering off of you like an aura. The purest beauty to ever exist, and he’s at the helm of it’s destruction.

The sound of your dress pooling at your feet pulls him from mulling over his past transgressions. His eyes follow a line up from said garment to where your bare cunt is nestled between hip bones. His gaze climbs farther, lacerating the memory of every dip and curve so they scar against his heart. He needs to remember everything.

You join him on the soft grass, knees swung on either side of his large thighs. His hands find your hips again, pressing into the flesh as you begin to rock lightly against him. Your movement is disastrous to his resolve, the tension in his body delivers harsh oval bruises against the skin of your ass.

“I love you. I love you. I love you.” Your confessions are accented by kisses against Kyoutani’s cheeks and lips. Your soul, your heart, your everything are each other’s; and tonight is the final assemblage.

Kyoutani’s touch is like scarlet fever against your body, burning in its journey to grope any flesh he could reach. His fingers have to cement this feeling into his fingerprints, after tonight only the phantom pains of you will remain.

“You feel so good Kenta. S-So right.” Your mewls rattle around against his skull, as one palm comes down to meet your heated pussy. The most morally abject sin he’s committed- even counting the heads that roll by his feat every day- is you. But still; he can’t argue the morality of your body writhing naked above him when his cock is already straining angrily against the leather of his pants. His fingers trace down from the hip bone to where your puffy lips sit. It’s amazing how sweet, how soft you are. Where Kyoutani is calloused and harsh, you are smooth and silken. Perfection. Depravity.

As one thick finger proads against your hole, your hips buck with new resolve. You crave more than just fleeting touches and stolen glances. You want him to let go completely, something he’s only done a handful of times. You need him to.

“I’m not made of ceramic Kyoutani. You treat me like a child, but I’m stronger than you seem to believe.” You use your family name for punctuation, but the sentence comes out melted on the edges when he sticks another digit in to join the first.

“Don’t you think I know that, y/n. Fuck. You’re the strongest person I’ve ever known,” a resounding slap meets your ass, jolting you farther against his fingers, “but that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t protect you. That’s my job, damnit.” His thumb finds your swollen clit with ease even within his flustered state and presses down, “I failed you.”

You don’t trust your own voice to answer, you know nothing you could say would ease his heart. All you can do is push forward in hopes that one night can make up for the life he’ll have to live without you. Your hands move down to loosen his suffocating pants, wobbly knees digging against the ground as he eases the leather down his legs.

Your hand grabs a hold of his hard cock, stroking from his thick base to reddened tip. The touch is familiar. Something that wracks him with guilt but fills his soul with warmth. It’s always been your touch. Similar to the sparks rendered from striking flint, your touch lights up his every nerve

Kentarou’s fingers move back to work you open for him, your head falls back, causing the fat of your tits to bounce against his chest. His other rough hand comes up to palm your breasts, pinching your hardened nipple and pulling down. You cry out in pleasure at the attention, senses overwhelmed by your lover’s ministrations.

“Please, please do something.” Your voice is desperate against the shell of his ear, pleading for more. More of Kentarou, and naively, for more time.

With a swift, practiced movement, the blonde moves you to lay against the grass. He removes the blood-stained shirt from his chest and kicks off his pants. His body eclipses yours, shielding you from view. You’re surrounded by him, the heady scent of sweat, the sound of the racing heart against his ribcage like a trapped songbird. It’s all Kyoutani, it always has been; your home, your confessional, the safest reprieve and your most vile secret.

Kyoutani’s cock is freed from its confines to slap deftly against his stomach. Your mouth tries to swallow as if filled with dried tea leaves, his size isn’t always the most accommodating. Even so, you lift up on one elbow to curl your fingers around his shaft and groan once again when your pointer finger and thumb don’t meet. Kyoutani opens his mouth to speak but you answer before the words fall.

“Don’t be gentle, Kentarou, ” your dwarfed hand tugs him towards you, creating a dizzying pressure, “I can take it.”

There’s no room for argument in your words, so he dips down to kiss your lips once again. “Let me taste you, y/n. Just one more time.” His eyes hold flames but regard you as softly as possible. You nod in agreement. His lips running down from your neck to your hips, you feel the chapped skin against your own. With each peck, a path of tears follow in tandem. His shaky cries are hidden behind the moans being pulled from your lungs. You don’t acknowledge it, for doing so would just make the wracking pain even worse.

There’s no use speaking of your combined suffering, it’s already dug it’s blade into Kyoutani’s vertebrae.

Once his mouth reaches your wet pussy, there’s nothing left of his conscious. Where guilt usually lies, madness replaces. The first swipe of his tongue is painfully slow, he has to savor this taste, your taste. Your soft, swollen lips are the gods’ manna and he’s been given one last chance to indulge. Kyoutani’s tongue finds your clit and flicks upward, just the way that’s always made you squeal. You’re coating his chin in slick, and nothing else will ever quench his thirst like this again. He could stay in between your legs for the next century, but rips himself away from your dripping cunt.

Your mouth is captured in his again, tongue and cheeks coated in your own arousal. The feeling distracting you from the reddened tip prodding at your tight hole. You suck in a sharp breath as you’re worked open. Every vein and ridge tugs against your snug walls. It hurts, it always does, but there’s nothing that’s ever felt better either. You bite his collarbone in a feeble attempt to keep quiet, nails cresting small shapes against his back as he slides farther and farther in.

“My pretty girl, so perfect for me.” Kyoutani’s hips meet your ass, giving you a moment to acclimate. You’re pulled taut around him, cock dragging against you as he pulls back. He remembers your previous words. I can take it.

His hips slam against you with ferocity. Every expanse of fat on you bounces. Thighs, tits, ass- all moving with the pace he sets. His cock is begging for release with every union of his tip to your cervix. A litany of cries and pleas fill the surrounding air, lilting around to bounce against the drooping flowers.

“Please Kenta, I’m- I’m going to.” Your sentence breaks off at the end but he puts them back together. He coos you, “I know, little one. Let go for me.” He presses two fingers against your clit once more to rub tight circles.

Your toes curl against the grass below you, body locking up as the blood running through your veins is replaced with gooey syrup. Years of tension and shame pull tightly against your body and snap in an instant.

Kyoutani can’t hold off his own orgasm any longer, not with the vice grip you have on him.

Not with the sound of the constable's horses drawing closer to the old wisteria tree.

It’s easier to see the resulting moments in pieces.

Kyoutani’s blade is sharpened meticulously. “A dull axe is worlds more painful.” Even as his heart is being torn from under his breast bone, webs of muscle and tendon snapping like sewing floss the closer he walks to your kneeling form, he remembers his father’s words.

The ringing in his ear drowns out the sound of your sentence being passed, it’s better he doesn't hear the official crimes you are posed with, lest he swings his weapon against the priest instead. He wants to reach out, to untie you and run away, to find a new world. A world where he hears the pattering of little footsteps and sees chubby hands clinging against your apron. A world where he wakes up to your wrinkled cheeks and graying hair.

Shiny, silver blade raised high and gleaming in the light, a sharp swipe of the weapon through the stale air, and finally a thump of weight against the ground below. Still, quiet, and absolute.

There’s no escaping the headman’s blade.

The wisteria tree is the beginning and end. Long, purple flowers sealing fate. Kyoutani pulls reluctant feet to the tree's base, his forehead pressing against the bark. He turns around and slides down to sit against the trunk. His hands roam against the texture of the grass beneath him. He remembers the spindly branches and decaying wood from years ago when he closes his eyes, he remembers your hands clawing back it’s life from the lowest level of hell.

When his eyes open again, they are met with yours. Soft, beautiful, and achingly familiar. You smile, lips turning upwards and teeth peaking out slightly. Your hand reaches out to cup his face, a dull crackle of warmth reaches his skin where forest fires use to smolder. It’s not the same, but it’s you. He knows it’s you somehow. Whether it be a cruel trick from the gods or his brain succumbing to madness. It’s still you. Your warmth is surrounding him again, and it feels almost right.

“Do you feel it, Kenta?” Your voice is warped and echoes like a hollow drum, he can’t help the tears falling in thick streams. It’s you. He reaches out to touch you, but his hands remain empty and cold. You disappear in a second, your face vanishing from where he swore he could almost feel your lips against his own.

You leave him once again and take the bright flowers of wisteria with you.

all writing is dymphnasprose’s original content, please do not repost or modify. do no read my content as asmr.©️

[wolvesandpetals]

Playing house: Final chapter (Loki x Sylvie, Rated: T)

Masterlist of my Sylki fanfiction here.

Sylvie wakes up the next day to the sunlight well past morning. When her eyes adjust to the sudden blinding light, she notices Loki staring at her, wearing the same clothes that he was in last night.

That's right, last night he confessed he does not want to leave, that he likes it here. She wonders if that is the real reason he has been insisting that she plays along with this charade.

[[MORE]]

Rage from the previous night starts to bubble at the pit of her stomach again, threatening to rise up. She closes her eyes, trying to push it down.

"Good morning", Loki says merrily, unaware of her internal struggle. "Thank you for bringing me back to the room last night. I don't recall much after my seventh glass, to be honest."

Sylvie opens her eyes to glare at him. Does he really not remember, or is he trying to get out of trouble by pretending not to?

She cannot tell. She just doesn't know anymore.

"I was thinking, maybe we can start our tour at the-"

"No." She cuts him off sharply. She sits up then, rubbing her temples as the hangover headache starts. Along with it, begins the surge of her anger. She feels like screaming to the heavens above and the hells below.

"No?" Loki asks, confused. "Sylvie, we have the whole day. We can-"

"No we can't!" She finally snaps. "I can't. I don't want to. I don't want to be a bloody tourist in bloody LA!" Her fingers curl into a fist, until she throws her hands up in the air. "I don't want to walk around Santa Monica Pier pretending to be your bloody wife! You know why? Because I've been here. I've lived in the pier during the tornado of 4055. I've watched the city die. I was only a hundred years old at the time." Her voice breaks a little, but the anger helps her push away the painful memory and the emotions it brings. "You know why I had to do that? Because of the TVA. They stole my life. They made me suffer. All I want to do now is take them down and make sure nobody else suffers like me."

Loki has been listening quietly, letting her get everything off her chest. He has spent his whole life doing what is right for him, never what is just right. But this time, he is willing to do right by her. "I get it, Sylvie. I promise we will-"

"Stop lying to me!" She screams. Her eyes turn cold, and she maintains eye contact as she makes her accusations known. "You like this!"

"W-what?"

"You confessed last night." She tells him so that he can no longer try to deny it. "You've got your family again. You've got your father's approval. You don't have to work a day in your life. You love this timeline."

"That's not...." He begins, but decides to abandon his protests. If they are being honest with each other now, then fine, he will speak his mind too. "So maybe I do love it here. Yes. I love this life. I love that my parents are alive and my brother doesn't hate me. I love that I have a home, and I'm happy." He places a hand over his heart, feeling it beating so fast that a mere mortal might have passed out. He focuses on it, willing it to lend him strength for the confession he's about to make. "But that doesn't mean I won't help you get out of here." A teardrop slips out of his left eye, and he hastens to wipe it away. "Sylvie, I... I have been a selfish man. I've always taken all I've wanted... But for you, I'd give it all up in a heartbeat." He places his hands on her shoulders, never breaking eye contact. Her rage has vanished now, her features soft and vulnerable, and all he wants is to make sure she's okay. "I promise you I will get us out of here, even if it means never seeing my family again. I've lost them once already. Doesn't matter if I lose them again." He lets go of her and steps back then, his familiar defense mechanisms snapping into place, the walls around his heart going up.

"Loki... I-" she tries.

But he doesn't think he can do this right now. "I need some air." And with that, he's out of the hotel room, the door wide open and still swinging the faintest bit from the pressure of his hand.

---

Sylvie spends the next four hours scared out of her mind, wondering whether he is coming back. He will return, she keeps telling herself. And even if he doesn't, it's not like she's ever had a... partner. She doesn't need one. Partners will only slow her down. She's better off-

Oh, hell with it! She cannot lie to herself anymore. She knows what the truth is. She knows she is not moving an inch from the room until he comes back. She has tried calling him a dozen times, but he never picks up. She did think about looking for him, but what if he returned to find her gone?

No. It's best to stay put. She's good at waiting, she has waited her whole life to bring her grand plan into fruition, after all. She can wait for him right here as long as she needs to.

---

Five hours later, the lock in the door turns. Sylvie reaches for the dagger hidden in her jeans, but relaxes when the door opens to reveal Loki. Their eyes search each other's to try to understand what kind of mood the other is in. Loki sees worry in Sylvie's eyes, along with fear, while Sylvie finds resolve in Loki's. Resolve for what? She wonders. What is his glorious purpose now?

He reaches inside his pocket to pull something out, then places it gently on the bed beside her. "I got you this. I thought it... I thought it'd look good with... well, with everything."

She picks it up to see it's a little necklace, with a green gem as a pendant. "Thank you." She says sincerely, clutching the object tightly in her hand. "I'm sorry for-"

He doesn't let her finish. "We have a flight to catch." She can tell that he's not angry anymore, just incredibly exhausted, and she decides to drop the matter for the time being. He reaches for their luggage, and she quickly places the necklace in the pocket of her jeans, deciding to wear it for the first time during some special occasion. Loki holds the door open for her. "Come on."

---

The flight back home is silent, but comfortable. There is so much they should talk about, but they have never been good at communication. Instead, she places her head on his shoulder, and he places his arm around her, and just like that, they know everything is alright.

They both feel incredibly jetlagged when they are finally "home", but the familiar place does give them relief.

"So it seems we can leave this town", Loki finally says, vocalizing what they learnt from the trip. He takes a seat next to Sylvie on the sofa, and sighs. "But we can't leave this reality."

Sylvie nods, wondering what their next move should be. If they can't leave, maybe they can lure the TVA to them?

A plan begins to form in her head.

She kisses him.

Loki feels his eyes go wide in shock for a few seconds at the sudden reaction, before he closes them and kisses her back. Slowly, he wraps his arms around her, pulling her closes. He can feel her nibbling his lower lip, and he uses the opportunity to slip his tongue into her mouth, making her moan. After a while, they break apart for need of air, but he doesn't let her go. "Wow, that was... Wow."

She is smiling, breathless, but she is looking around them expectantly.

"Sylvie?" Loki asks, trepidation creeping into his mind. "What is it?"

"I... I thought that..." She sighs. There is no easy way to say this, and this will hurt him. "Back at Lamentis, when we touched, the TVA showed up. I thought that if we..." She looks away, blushing.

"Maybe they'd show up again." He finishes. "I guess we are not a Nexus event in this timeline." The happiness he felt just a while ago disappears. He felt like for once in his life, he finally got something he wanted. But he didn't. It was a trick. Just like this whole world is. He cannot fight back the bitter taste in his mouth. "Sorry to disappoint you."

"I'm not disappointed." Sylvie reassures immediately. She grabs his hand and gives it a squeeze. Her smile melts away the tension from his body, and they both inch closer again.

So maybe she did kiss him to bring in the TVA.

Or maybe it was an excuse to do something she has wanted to do for too long. Maybe she wants this.

Yes, she wants this.

The happy feeling is back in his heart, though the emotional rollercoaster still feels raw, and he prays it won't go downhill again.

As if on cue, a giant glowing door appears, and in walks Mobius.

Loki and Sylvie move apart at once, putting a respectable amount of distance between them, which is unusual for two beings who love scandalizing others. Their shocks mirror each others'. It is Sylvie who voices it out loud first. "Wait, it worked?"

"What worked?" Mobius asks, confused.

"Nothing." Loki supplies quickly. "How did you find us?"

"There's a variant of a powerful witch in this town. Agatha Harkness. She was posing as your neighbor, Agnes."

"Agnes is a witch?" She is shocked. But she shouldn't be. The hints were always there. Thor said they have lived in this house for years, yet Agnes- Agatha knew they had just moved in. Sylvie was so distracted by everything else, so consumed by the urge to find the enemy behind the scenes, that she missed the one right in front of her. This is new for her, she never lets her guard down. Never.

Loki shoots her a sympathetic look, as if reading her mind. It's not like Agatha ever presented herself as a threat to them. Anyone else in their shoes would miss it too.

"Her speciality is feeding on others' powers." Mobius explains, trying to be as brief as possible. "She wasn't supposed to be in your town. She kept herself disguised from our eyes. The TVA found her today. And she lead me right to you."

"Oh. So that's the Nexus event you were chasing." Loki concludes.

"Yeah." Mobius confirms, and gestures at the yellow glowing door. "Now come on."

Loki steps towards it, without hesitation. Before he walks in, he turns back to see Sylvie frozen in her place.

Sylvie feels like her legs have taken roots. When she first got here, all she could think about was getting out. Every moment felt like hell while she was trapped against her will. Over time, she has started to think of it as her home. She cannot imagine waking up without the yellow wallpaper to greet her every morning, or the little red extension chord attached to the distant wall socket that she uses to charge her phone every night, or the neighbor's tuxedo cat that pays her a visit each night, curling up against her legs with its tail high up like a salute. She touches the wall, mirroring her action from when she first got here, but her emotions are very different now. Her home is about to be taken from her for the second time in her life. Her spot, the place where she can sit down with her legs spread out and kick some ass at Fortnite, will no longer exist. There will be no walks in the garden at the end of the day while throwing dirty looks at the neighbor's extravagant pool, no lawn to be mowed, no hedges to be trimmed. In a few moments, every domestic comfort she has known will be forever gone.

"Sylvie?"He walks over to her, placing his hands on her shoulders, his concern hard to miss. "What's wrong?"

"I..." She doesn't think she's ready to say it yet, and chooses the flip the script on him. "But your parents..."

"Would want me to do the right thing. They are annoyingly righteous." He says with the tiniest hints of a smile. His parents are gone. He wants them back, but he knows the price will be too high. All he can do now is go on, and hopefully do some things here and there that will make them proud. He knows he has to live on his own terms, not on the terms of the dead, but there must be actions he can take to honor their memory.

"But this house..." Sylvie looks around, her heart breaking. "I don't... I don't know if I should..."

"Sylvie", he squeezes her shoulders, making her look at his eyes once more. "When we've beaten the ones at the end, we can have a life like this again."

"We can't. Not on the same timeline." She says sadly. One touch, and it's a Nexus event. There is no place for two Lokis on the same timeline. There's no place for her happiness.

And that's just it, isn't it? That's the biggest thing she's losing, the biggest reason she doesn't want to leave - Loki.

"This isn't about you", she had told him when they first met. But now, everything is all about him.

"We can... stay at the TVA." He says cautiously. He doesn't know the logistics of it yet, but he knows they will find a way. The Ones at the time of time are the ones who decided two Lokis cannot exist on the Sacred Timeline. There must be a way to change that when they are defeated. "We'll figure it out when we get to that. I promise."

Sylvie believes him. She has to. What choice does she have anyway? They ended up here because of someone else's will. Who is to say she won't blink and find herself in some other place, away from him?

No. Her best bet is getting out of here with him, and finding a place for them that they choose, that they can keep.

Sylvie nods. She reaches inside her pocket, and takes something out. Loki realises it's the necklace he bought her at LA. That's the only thing she intends to take from this place. No words are needed anyway. Now he knows exactly how he feels. A huge smile spreads across his face. He did get what he wanted, after her.

"Can I keep this?" She asks Mobius.

"Sure." He says softly.

Loki looks at Sylvie and smiles. She smiles back, reaching for his hand. Her journey began when she was dragged through the door centuries back. Now she's about to walk through the door and end it all.

Time to face the ones- or one, him or her, whoever or whatever it is- at the end of time.

(The end.)

[jamestrmtx]

Fairytale Complex - [Undertale | Sans x Reader]

[Gender Neutral, Frisk's Parent Reader | Slow Burn]

Chapter Twenty | Ooo (Part 1 of 2)

[First] | [Previous] | [Next]

Alternate Chapter Title: Before the Clock Strikes Midnight

• • •

Knock-knock.

However common, the sound makes you jolt. You stop everything you're doing to check on your schedule, needing to consult with it first to better establish yourself into reality. It takes a few pages and some seconds of reading for you to determine you don't expect any visitors today.

Knock-knock.

"One moment," you shout; stress spikes as you fail to wrap things up quicker, having to bring the stew into a boil before turning it off.

You're not sure what to anticipate from the one waiting at the door, nor why it's worrying your thoughts as much as it is. A knock was nothing to be afraid of, as wasn't receiving a surprise visit if you were to consider how tidy your home was and how up-to-date you were with your responsibilities. Regardless, the sound of the door opening sends all meditating techniques aside and panic replaces your search for serenity and reasoning. You rush off to the living room and get ready to face whoever's there, though not without letting that alert state show through your posture and the way you hold on tight to the knife you used for cutting the vegetables.

"Who's-"

Warmth leaves your body the second you see who the person is; the knife almost falls, yet the visitor rescues it by its handle and gives it back to you afterwards. Your offensive stance vanishes and you find yourself incapable of storing the weapon away without making yourself seem like an anxious mess. The man stares at you throughout -- making matters worse, no doubt.

"G- God, I'm sorry!" you blurt out, frowning. "I thought you were-"

"I've had worse welcomes into strangers' homes," Bubbles says, remaining unfazed. "Though that still doesn't excuse the… oddity of your actions." He greets Frisk -- now closing the door of the living room -- with a nod and a smile. He then takes a small step forward and closer to you, cornering you in place without doing much about it. "Is there something wrong, (L/N)? You appear different from the first time we met."

You gulp tension away and attempt a smile.

"It's been a rough couple of months, so I've grown... worried about bad things happening," you reply, taking a breath. "N- Not even those two months without Frisk were as scary as these new changes. Back then, I had little to lose -- I'd already lost my own child; there wasn't much left around for me to keep living for. No reason for it. Frisk wasn't with me anymore, and… And I destroyed all my other relationships, so -- in the end -- I was alone and I didn't have anywhere to go." You huff and follow it up with a shudder. "But now… Now I've got plenty to lose and barely any ideas on how to prevent that from happening. I don't want to lose the progress I've made until now, and I… I don't want to keep screwing up so much, either."

"You should seek some sort of counseling, if so."

He takes a step back and sits on the couch when Frisk offers him to.

You copy the man's actions, choosing the recliner opposite to his seat to maintain eye contact with him.

"There's a fine line between fear and paranoia, and I believe you're crossing the latter now," he adds, frowning. "Or do you consider it normal to come running all the way from the kitchen to the living room, pointing a knife at me -- and looking as on-edge as you were just a moment ago?" He stops for a minute. "I understand you're being cautious, and that you're worried over Frisk opening the door to anyone who knocks on it, but your reaction just now was much different from the first day we met -- in a few ways positive, but in most ways not."

"I… I'll try to find some help, then," you reply, sighing. You then bring a hand to your forehead and rub at your temples, brow creasing in the process. "But... May I ask what's the reason for your visit? I thought our next meeting would be by the end of the year," you stop yourself at the feeling of being impolite, "...Not that I mind you visiting! I just… I thought I had more time to research more about monsters."

He keeps quiet for what feels like an eternity, heightened by the loud ticktock of the clock hanging nearby. "I can answer, but only if you promise me you'll be true to your word, and if you provide thorough evidence the next occasion we meet -- both with your counseling and research."

"I already have some on my research," you say, smiling. "Could I show it to you?"

"You should," he replies, impassive.

"E- Excuse me for a moment, then."

He nods.

Nodding back, you walk off to your room and clear your throat on the way there in an attempt at gaining some strength. You can feel your resolve debilitating with each second, likely product of the surprise visit, but undoubtedly influenced by factors beyond it. The bunny notepad gifted to you was still a work in progress. You'd barely just managed to cover half of the ten main people Frisk was associated with. Toriel, Papyrus, and Sans were the three you'd learned most about, while Undyne and Alphys had been left behind with the whirlwind you'd been pulled into since the monsters arrived at the Surface. It's difficult to admit you'd rather go back to how things were before Frisk ended up at the Underground, yet -- at the same time -- there's plenty of things that outweigh that desire, varying from the help and friendship both Toriel and Papyrus offered you, to the 'friends with benefits' sort of relationship you shared with the latter's older brother.

You brush those thoughts aside when picking up the notepad; priorities are rearranged as you step out and make way back to the living room.

No matter what, you weren't about to lose your child simply for allowing them to keep spending time with a group known to have hurt them first. Something had to be done, even if it involved you becoming an antagonist. As lovely as the monsters were and are, there are some sacrifices you're not quite ready to make yet -- however selfish some of these make you feel.

The routine of breathing in and out is kept in mind as you arrive at the living room, where -- true to his word -- Bubbles is still at. He's still sitting on the couch, but at a different spot as he leaves space for Frisk, who's showing him the hundred-piece puzzle they're more than halfway through finishing. A smile can be seen on his face, and he doesn't have his sunglasses on anymore, making him appear much more approachable now. That -- however nice of a sight to see -- changes when he looks up from the puzzle and stares down at you, smile changing to a firm line and eyes narrowing when meeting yours.

"Is that all your evidence?" he asks, gaze going further down to stare at the bunny notepad in hand. "Forgive me for saying this, but I'm afraid that doesn't seem like much, at first glance."

It isn't.

Bile forms in your throat and you're urged to squeeze the notepad tight, too anxious to let your muscles relax and too nauseous not to grow irate. "It's possible it might not be much," you confess, frowning. You then bite on your lower lip to prevent your voice from lowering. "I've had a tough time deciding, and…" You sigh and loosen your shoulders afterwards. "And then other things got in the way, but... Judging by the situation, I should wait until you ask me what these things are, shouldn't I?

"That would be preferable," he replies, gaze and mouth softening. "Care to place that notebook on the table? I'll only need a few minutes to look through it."

"Of course."

With that final agreement, you approach the coffee table and set the evidence down. An instinct to flee from the scene while he reads overcomes your senses, though you remind yourself of the severity of the situation and what lies ahead. You sit back down on the recliner and tap your foot as you wait for him, an action you can't bring control over with how shaky your entire body is. Even so much as keeping yourself in one place feels like a challenge you're not exactly ready to overcome presently. Regardless, you comply and distract yourself by looking at Frisk, who's still finishing with their puzzle.

"It's been months, and yet this is the only information you've found?" Bubbles asks, fixing the sunglasses now resting on his head as he brings the notebook closer to him. "There's hardly ten people on this list, (L/N)," he adds, face scrunching as he reads through the list again. "Just what have you been up to this entire time?"

A combined sense of guilt and embarrassment take over, causing an overall inability to stare at him, already hard to do with the intensity of his gaze. "I've been touring the Underground," you begin, bracing yourself with a breath. "I was also hospitalized for a while, and then there was some... personal trouble with my ex-husband the day after I, well…" Your face burns at the thought. "Spent the night at a hotel with, uh… monster number three."

Bubbles eyes the list again and stops immediately.

"Serif?" he asks, showing you the notebook and pointing at his name. He then looks back to it and skips through a few pages. A subtle curve shows up on his mouth, almost making him appear as if he's smiling. "I assumed as much, judging by how much there's written about him." Sighing, he closes the notepad and stares at you again. "But spent the night in a literal sense, or-"

"Literal!" you exclaim, too stressed to bear listening until the end. "We're not dating, but…"

"You wish you were?"

"Uh… Kinda?"

His neutral expression changes to a subtle frown. "That doesn't answer my question, unfortunately."

"I'm not sure," you elaborate, huffing as you furrow your brow and grimace, headache returning. "We've… We've called each other nicknames a couple of times, and we almost kissed once, but, well…"

"Wasn't he the one troubling you the most?" he asks, frown growing more prominent. "While I do not wish to question you over who you befriend, this is the same man you informed me about a few months ago, who -- quote: 'threatened Frisk with death and did very little to help them out in the Underground'." He stops to breathe in deep, huffing just as loud after. "Can you sincerely admit to me you've developed a crush on him ever since then -- cross your heart?" he adds, forehead wrinkling and hands folding over the notebook. "Has he shown any repentance over his actions for you to be forgiving him so easily?"

"That's exactly why ren's not dating him officially yet!" Frisk intervenes, standing up from their seat like a lawyer would do when defending their client. "They-"

"Please, do not interrupt us. It's for your own good, Frisk (L/N)."

"But it's true," they state, persisting. "I-"

"It's been roughly three months since I last gave this home a visit, and yet I've seen little progress made with the only task I assigned to you, (L/N)," he says, standing up straight. "You were meant to determine and establish which monsters are safe to have around Frisk, and which ones aren't, but -- so far -- the only information you've given me's going stagnant with how long it's taken you to make a decision."

You're the one to stand up next, against letting yourself feel weaker.

"That's what I've been doing, even if it looks like I haven't made any progress," you reply, fists clenching. Your heart races faster with each moment that passes, making you seek some calm through the reminder of how fragile your current physical state is. "I- I've toured half of the Underground with that same man, I've settled an agreement with Toriel as to how much time she's allowed to spend with Frisk, and I'm... I'm trying to understand number three's intentions by-"

"By dating him."

"Please, let me finish."

Bubbles chuckles and crosses his arms, staring down at you afterwards. "Alright." He sighs and loosens up as he massages the bridge of his nose. "Then, would you be kind enough to explain to me what you've learned about him so far? And just why haven't you made a decision yet, if you happen to know him that well?"

"He's, uh…" You hesitate with a frown. "He's difficult to understand, but he... He means well, and I trust his intentions better these days."

"This is the same man you were accusing of being a hypocrite the first day you met him."

"And now it's been months, sir." You harrumph when noticing the sudden rise in your tone. "I've learned enough now to know he doesn't mean any harm."

"And to what extent would you say your trust towards him goes?" he asks, uncrossing his arms and softening his gaze. "Is it enough for you to accept his and Toriel's offer of having you and your child in that new school? Or enough to still hesitate when asked about the nature of your relationship with him?" His stern mouth turns to a frown, revealing whole-hearted concern. "How can you trust him enough for one thing, but not the other -- if one is much more weighted than the other?"

You take a second to think and calm down some more. His questions make rounds about your mind as you weigh the pros and cons of not only your relationship with monster number three, but with everyone else, as well. Finding an answer proves difficult the more you stay quiet to reflect on the heaviness of both sides. Either way, consequences would soon follow, and you were required to act fast -- judging by Bubble's words. If you wanted to let Frisk keep their relationship with the monsters and for you to maintain your own, you needed to speed things up more than you would want to, given how much willpower you have left.

"Because even then, they're still different things," you speak up, breaking the silence. "Accepting that job offer and letting Frisk go to Toriel's school isn't the same as opening my heart out to someone new, when I screwed up big time seven years ago with a different guy."

Bubbles takes the notepad and gives it back to you. Then, he fixes his attire and looks at the time. His expression is hard to read with how serious his eyes and mouth have become, though his calm tone reveals he's neutral over the situation when he replies with, "Who you date is none of my concern, so long as it is done with another consenting adult, and so long as it doesn't bring any harm upon Frisk. The same goes for your friendships, but time's running out, and I need you to start making decisions soon." He stops to slip his sunglasses back on, masking his gaze, smoothened by sympathy for what seems like a split second -- if not less. "It's either that, or I'll have to make them for you." He sighs. "And as I'm sure you know, these aren't the best for you or your child. It's what the department requires for the safety of Frisk, above anything else."

[First] | [Previous] | [Next]

• • •

Stay tuned for a Pride Month related notice after the next update is out.

As always, take care, stay safe...

...And Happy Pride! 🌈😄

• • •

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[valhallasubstitute]

Yours, And Only Yours Pt.2

-- Sihtric x Virgin!Reader

After travelling with Uthred for many months the fact that you’re still a virgin is revealed in a drunken confession, from that moment on Sihtric can’t help but thinking of making you his.

A/N: hellooo and welcome back for part 2. I hope you enjoy, I’ve got a few more ideas for our boy Sihtric as well as a certain Irishman. So if you like my writing then you shouldn’t have to wait too long 😊

part three

WARNINGS: SMUT 18+, oral female receiving, unprotected sex -  it’s the ninth century they have an excuse you don’t.

wc: 2180

It was dark and it was late, dragons breath dancing from your lips as you leant against the stables. You had never intended to be a virgin for this long but no man had ever wanted you badly enough for you to even consider opening your thighs. You admired the simplicity of being a whore and respected their work but you were not willing give yourself so easily.

So your legs remained closed.

Despite the chill the call of your name on Sihtric’s tongue warmed you from the inside out. His shoulders were heaving and for a brief moment you wondered if there had been a fight, but there was no blood,  no new bruises, only his eyes on yours. 

It was pure instinct that had you take a step back as he stepped forward. You felt as if he was hunting you and the minute your back hit the post he invaded your personal space.

Almost.

He stopped inches from you, your bodies so close together that you could feel the heat radiating off him in waves, you could smell the ale on his breath and his gaze just kept burning into you, straight to your center.

‘Why did you refuse him?’ His voice was tight. If you hadn’t known him any better you would have thought he was angry but there was desperation there.  

‘I-‘ the words caught in your throat, the look you had grown accustomed to was in his eyes again. Desperation and something else. ‘I did not desire him.’

‘Then who is it that you desire?’ It was the way he said the word, how it dripped from his tongue. Desire. Lust. Wanting. The unknown look in his eye. All the same. ‘You deny every man who wishes to touch you, you risk all of our lives by pulling a blade to stop such an advance. Why?’ His voice was steadily rising and with it the beat of your heart. ‘Who is it that you desire Y/N?’

How could you deny it any longer, deny him?

‘You.’

There was a calm before the storm, pupils blown and the final breath taken before the tension broke. His lips were on yours and his hands bunched your hair. The tug was sharp but a delicious ache spread across your scalp. This kiss was not gentle but his lips were soft and plush against your own. You felt as if you were burning up and your clothes began to feel entirely unnecessary. Your hands grasped at Sihtric’s neck as his thigh pushed open your legs. The friction caused a moan to fall from your lips.

You would be willing forfeit your seat in Valhalla if this what you rose to each morning and fell to each night. His lips devouring yours like a starved man. His hands, one of them holding so tightly to the beam behind you that you feared it might crumble. You could feel his strength of his thighs as they ground against you. Harsh and unyielding, the idea of Valhalla paled in comparison.

Sihtric let himself touch you as he had so many time in his dreams. Releasing his grip on your hair he didn’t hesitate to trail his fingers down your neck all the way down to your breasts. He palmed at them, feeling you stiffen beneath his fingers. The noise you made was sinful, even to his heathen ears.

The reality of how he had you, pinned against the stable, withering underneath his touch for all to see had him snapping his hips to your full ones. You were allowing him to touch you like no other man, in a place where every other man could see. Where every other man could see…

The loss of his warmth sent your mind reeling but the desire in his eyes kept you still. ‘Not here. I won’t take you here. Not for your first.’ He was nodding to himself as he said it, convincing himself. You would have let him do anything, take you anywhere he wanted, in any way he wanted. But that didn’t mean you couldn’t tease before you found yourself in his bed.

‘Who said you could take me?’ His smile was bright in the darkness. The sincere happiness in his smile disarmed you, blinded you to the dark mischief that  lingered there, so much so that you hardly noticed him lifting your dress, nor expect the hand that cupped your heat.

‘You will not deny me Y/N.’

He slipped one finger through your folds as he retracted. Not enough to enter you fully but enough that it coated him, and it felt like you had been struck by lighting as he brought it to his lips.

The walk to his bed was filled with lingering touches, at least one of his hands on you the entire way there. Sihtric enjoyed the way peoples eyes followed the two of you, what he intended to do with you clear to every person in the room. Oh, the things he intended to do.

Your body was pressed against his as soon as the door was closed but he didn’t miss the nervousness in your demeanor. It took all his will not to rip your clothes from you, months of torment pushing him to the limit of self-control.

‘Take off your dress.’ The fabric fell to the ground and he would swear for years to come that the Gods could hear his heartbeat as you walked towards him.

You stood just shy of him. Sihtric began roughly pulling at his belts but you placed your hands on his larger ones and resumed the task yourself. He was smiling at you softly with heavy lidded eyes and you couldn’t help but mirror the look. As a warrior the task was well rehearsed but you took your time, each item of clothing removed exposed a new piece of him to explore. Hard ridges and scars littered the pale skin and as you placed his tunic down his hand came to rest on your waist.

It was warm and rough and the very first to touch you there. He would be the first to touch you everywhere and as he laid you down onto the furs you had never been so grateful for the fact that Sihtric Kjartanson couldn’t hold his tongue.

He kissed you again slowly. The weight of his body was foreign but welcomed, safe and exhilarating at the same time. You smiled as he kissed you, his beard tickling you as he worked his way down. He chuckled breathlessly as you squirmed beneath him, deliberately moving his head side to side in the valley of your breasts.

‘Don’t take your eyes from me.’

Sihtric attached his mouth to one nipple while his fingers brushed against the other. The touch was light, his eyes shining as your face grew red. He worked them both, alternating , favouring neither but devouring both.

All too soon his lips were moving south and your legs tightened on instinct. His kisses eased you, your head falling back onto the furs before a light nip to the soft of your thigh had your eyes snapping back to his. His tongue soothed the sting, kissing it gently before he came face to face with your heat. The look you shared was intense, you could hardly see the colour for black in his eyes.

The feeling of his tongue on you was euphoric but came second to the sound he made as he tasted you. It was a deep moan that vibrated straight through you. While the sensation was new it wasn’t long before you relaxed into it, your hips slowly beginning to grind against his face. A silent plea. The familiar coil in your stomach had begun to tighten yet Sihtric never slowed.

His mouth was hot against your clit and his fingers were cold as they slipped into you. One at first but he soon added another. His fingers worked on you without hesitation, simultaneously making your walls stretch and clench.

When the coil in your stomach finally snapped it felt like a white hot heat had spread all over your body. Sihtric’s name fell from your lips again and again. It had never felt this good before.

Your eyes were screwed shut but you could feel the bed dip as Sihtric returned to your side. You could hear him removing his breeches, his breath fanning your neck the only indication of his proximity. It cooled you and set you on fire all at once.

‘You taste sweeter than any ale.’

Your heart skipped a beat at he nipped at your pulse point. He positioned himself back between your thighs and you could feel his manhood against your stomach. You wanted to taste him but Sihtric placed a hand on your wrist as you reached for him. He didn’t try to hide the want in his eyes, nor the tenderness.

‘Another time, my love.’ His love, his love. The words  spun in your head as he entered you. It was a brief distraction from the pain. You could see Sihtric stiffen, his eyes searching yours for any sign that you had changed your mind. Your hands gripped his shoulders, your nails digging into the hard flesh. A nod was all he needed. Each inch you took from him became easier, breathless moans mixing from parted lips.

Once the initial pain had subsided you kicked yourself for waiting this long. The feel of him stretching you was immense and when he bottomed out you had never felt so full.

The roll of his hips had your name falling from Sihtric’s lips. You could see that he was holding back, his brow was creased in concentration and his jaw twitching repeatedly. The longer you watched him the clearer it became how much he wanted to do right by you. The longer you watched him the clearer it became how much you wanted him to claim you.

When your hips snapped to meet his the pleasure doubled, the friction sending shocks to your overworked bundle of nerves. You didn’t trust yourself to speak, instead you would use your body. Your hands started to wander over the hard muscle of his back, letting your nails dig in where they pleased as he hit that one spot inside you. Each time he would hiss. Each time his thrusts becoming a fraction harder, faster. Curses mixed with the chanting of his name.

It was obvious his resolve was waning, his grip on your hips tightened. Tight enough to bruise. You took his head in your hands, trembling fingers smoothing the wayward hair from his face. He looked down questioningly. You kissed him once harshly, biting and sucking on his pretty bottom lip. Using your heels on the back of his thighs you pulled him in deeper. His body tensed as you broke the kiss.

‘Take me properly. I will not ask twice.’

The growl that erupted from the back of his throat was almost enough to have you cumming there and then. He shifted his position, becoming impossibly deep within you. The force he pounded you with moved your entire body, the linen of the bed meeting the floor as it shifted under you.

The weight of him pinned you to what remained of the bed, sounds of pleasure echoing off the walls. His breath was ragged and you don’t recognise the noises you’re making. His pace was relentless and you could feel another orgasm building. You knew Sihtric could feel you getting close and you clenched around him for good measure.

‘Y/N.’ His tone was dangerous, the tiniest falter in his rhythm giving away his pleasure. You do it again. The small smirk that was beginning to from was wiped from your face as the rough pad of his thumb rubbed harshly at your clit. His touch had you arching from the bed, your chest flush with his.

Your orgasm slammed into you. Sihtric’s name was ripped from you against your own accord and you swear the world melted away as you milked his cock. The feeling of you so tight around him sent Sihtric over the edge and his thrusts slowed as his own high spilled inside of you.

He collapses beside you, sweaty and panting. You couldn’t help the breathless laugh that escaped you, virgin no more.

Sihtric pulled you to his side, enjoying the way you tucked your body into his. Your hands run across his chest, idly toying with his pendant. The silence that followed was not uncomfortable but you broke it anyway.

‘You called me your love. Does this make me your woman?’ Sihtric hummed in response, his head tilting to get a better look at you.

‘Do you object?’ There was no worry on his face, the way you looked at him was enough to settle any reservations he might have had.

‘No. I am yours, and only yours.’ You did not miss the twitch of his cock or the ghost of a smile, nor the mischief in his eyes.

‘It’s a shame, Finan was looking forward to having his way with you.’

[trashcatsnark]

You said in a previous ask that at the end, when everyone is safe, etc. you envisioned your V expecting Johnny to pursue Rogue, for them to swallow their own feeling, trying to be a supporting friend, encourage Johnny and push him to do it. Can you expand on your thoughts on the matter? Can’t help but think it is an awesome scenario

*Screams in someone asked me about my v’s canon* Thank youuuu

SPOILERS WITHIN THISS

My V even actually does this a bit prior to the aftermath of Mikoshi, because in her canon Alt tells her about the six months thing during the first meeting (because other than dramatic tension or Alt not taking the time to check, I can’t think logically why she couldn’t have told V from the start) so my V has managed to mentally hide from the Johnny the fact that due to this, she pretty resolves herself to letting Johnny have her body after the oil fields. So, she wants to make sure his relationships with Kerry and Rogue are cleared up, so they can be there for him when she’s gone. She actually goes as far to invite Rogue to the Samurai Reunion gig in hopes that her and Johnny will be able to clear the air after whatever happened on the date.

And yes absolutely once everything has sorta cleared up a bit. My V is still encouraging Johnny to pursue Rogue. Because I have a habit with my oc’s universe for it to be like okay, once all the actiony stuff has settled we’re doing a complete tonal shift and this is now a romantic comedy. But, my V also ontop of all we see in game, she goes through Temperance endings and is fucking around in cyberspace for a while. And when Johnny becomes determined to save her, one of the first things he does once they find a way to save her life/body is go see her in cyberspace through the net and of course, who did he go to first, who did he bring for safety. Rogue. So, my V has that as well as part of the evidence Johnny really loves Rogue and has no feelings for my dumbass. Mixed, with my V’s generally low self esteem and belief that anyone who really knows her can’t possibly want her.

Of course one they’re back, post her recovery, Johnny and her are full clingy and even fall back into some old habits (ie casual sex), are living together. Are essentially living as if they’re a couple, but without technically being a couple. Like, to anyone with a single functioning braincell, its clear that they have some feelings between them. But, my V also knows how powerful the relic bond was and that a decent amount of this is probably because of that. She doesn’t believe that Johnny could have romantic feelings for her and all of this intimacy is due to left over effects of the relic. And she begins to worry that this is going to negatively impact Johnny moving on from all of this. Because she wants him to have his life back and take this new chance to do what makes him happy; rekindle his thing with Rogue, start playing with Kerry again, have some independence. Because Rogue’s not gonna want to be with him if he’s still playing house with V, fucking them, and they’re clinging to him like a leech. So, she doesn’t want to continue going along with enabling these side effects because as much as she adores having Johnny completely wrapped up in her; she thinks its just the relic and it’ll get in the way of him getting what he really wants. It feels good in the moment but won’t be sustainable long term, because who Johnny really wants is Rogue. So, she’s convinced she has to just swallow her own feelings and do this to really help Johnny and be a good friend.

And a big part of everything is the fact these two dumbasses have to use their big boy and girl words to talk, yet vehemently refuse to for a significant amount of time.

So, she starts like sewing those seeds of, “well you know we’ll have to eventually stop screwing around, after all can’t have a serious relationship if you still have a fuckbuddy” which Johnny takes as V wants a serious relationship with someone other than him.

“Hey, when you think you’re up for it, we’ll start looking at apartments, I know you don’t wanna share a bed with me for the rest of your life.” which Johnny takes as, she doesn’t want to live with him for much longer.

“Hey have you talked to Rogue lately, you two should have a chat, see where things stand now that you got your body back.” Which Johnny takes as, she’s trying to push me off on someone else.

“Oh hey, that looks cool….you should take Rogue there, she’d probably enjoy another date without my face ruining everything.” Which again Johnny just sees as she’s pushing him off on Rogue, because she doesn’t want him.

She’ll even do thing like take Johnny to the Afterlife with her to get a gig from Rogue and oh cool, this is a one man job though, so you stay and have some drinks with Rogue; okay byeeeee~ And him and Rogue have a chat, because he’s so fucking down about this, because this is like his worst fear realized to him. Now, that V doesn’t have to deal with him, doesn’t have to be with him, she doesn’t want to. That she’s trying to get rid of him, because why would she want him. And Rogue, having ya know functioning braincells sees through all this shit.

And Rogue asks what the fuck is going on because she wants to hear Johnny’s bullshit idea and he’s like “yeah, pretty sure V is sick of me, keeps trying to push me off on you.”

“She thinks she’s helping.”

“What do you mean?”

“She thinks you still have feelings for me and that what we had can be salvaged.”

“Why the hell would she think that?”

“You used her body to take me on a date.”

“….okay, fair point…”

And I’m still not totally sure how everything like resolves; I haven’t even written the third chapter of her fic yet, so this is way off in the distance as is. But, my V does eventually have to leave for a decent chunk of time to take care of personal shit, and doesn’t take Johnny with her because she feels she has to take care of it without him and honestly thinks its best to break some of the dependence as much as it physically fucking hurts. And when she comes back she learns that Johnny basically spent the whole time sitting by his phone and watching the door, waiting for her to come back or call. They end up finally talking it out because Johnny says like, “you must think I’m pretty pathetic clinging to you when you don’t even fuckin’ want me”  and shes like “woah what the hell do you mean I don’t want you???” And actually talk it out and she realizes her actions made him feel unwanted and like he was the only one feeling this pull, like he needed her and she could leave him in the dust and not think twice. And fuck that was not her intention and just admitting, that she does need and want him as much as he needs and wants her, she just didn’t think he wanted her and thought she was helping him get what he really wanted. Just them finally talking like grown adults and maybe someone will fucking confess or I’ll scream.

[blog-of-the-wildd]

i’ll make it 4 words if you don’t mind <3

star of my heart with romantic revalink! thanks!!

Star of my heart

“I’m cold,” Revali said.

Even in Hebra, amidst the ever falling snow and the peaks of ice, the Rito remained warm, covered with feathers. However, Revali lied anyway, expecting Link to decipher the truth under his words.  

The white, delicate feathers that hung over the roost tembled, signaling the beginning of a storm. The wood of the flight range creaked. It was an old structure, built by the Rito of a past long gone. Inside, quiet flames engulfed the cooking pot at the center, warming the place with a comfortable heat. 

Link, making sure their meal cooked appropriately, didn’t reply to Revali, perhaps too absorbed in his task. 

After a moment, he met his gaze, his far-seeing blue eyes unwavering. 

Link had thin sandy hair and a small mouth. His face was dotted with freckles, product of hours spent under the sun. He was of juvenile features, though there was an edge to them. His boyish air hid the truth, for Link was the deathly Hylian Champion.

“Cold?” he repeated, slowly.

Revali looked away, tempted to hide his face under his wings. 

“Cold,” he said. 

Link’s gaze drifted to the pot. He stared at it for a moment, as if waiting for it to tell him what to do. Outside, the wintry gales howled, drowning the gentle crackling of the flames. Yet, as tempestuous as the weather was, the flight range was warm. 

“I’m not,” Link said, gesturing to his clothes. He was clad in the snowquill armour, which was made of feathers. Revali scowled, for he understood what Link was alluding to.

Link sat next to him anyway and, in a gesture that was becoming more natural with every passing day, Revali wrapped a wing around his shoulders. 

Link closed his eyes and leaned his head against his shoulder. Revali raised his wing carefully, caressing Link’s weather-beaten face. Neither said anything, too embarrassed (or comfortable) to shatter the silence. Revali melted into Link’s touch, letting a sort of peace take over him. 

“This is nice,” Link said, his voice barely a whisper. 

“Yes, it’s decent,” Revali said

Link laughed. Revali felt the push of the boy’s giggles against his chest, which made him smile.

 “You are decent,” Link said, lips curled in a goofy smile.

“Indeed I am, unlike some hell-raisers here--”

Link straightened up and looked at Revali with defying eyes. They stared at each other for a couple of beats, the tension purposefully building between them. Finally, Link poked Revali’s chest, eyes bright as if he’d come up with the best insult, “Oh really? Well, you’re dirty.”

Link hadn’t finished speaking when Revali burst into laughter. Link looked confused, expecting Revali to be deeply affected by his words (rightfully so; after all, Revali had a tendency to be offended by the faintest insult). 

“I’m not,” Revali finally said, breathless from laughing, “You, on the other hand, smell unwashed.”

“Unwashed…” Link repeated, a slight frown creasing his forehead. Link looked at Revali, far-seeing blue eyes staring at him. Revali forced himself to look back. “Are you... asking me to take a bath?”

“Yes,” Revali replied mindlessly. Link nodded, eyes hard with resolution, and got up. Revali frowned, reaching a wing in his direction,  “Where are you going?”

Link paid him no mind. He leaned over to check on the cooking pot. Satisfied, he turned to his sword and picked it up swiftly.

“To the lake.”

“Not right now, you dunderhead,” Revali snapped. “The lake is frozen. It's winter.” 

Link’s resolve faltered. He placed his weapon where it had been and sat on the wooden floor, letting his attention slip back to the pot. Revali almost called him back, but he dared not. What would Link think? He would judge him needy and clingy, both adjectives that Revali did not want associated with him. 

He didn’t want Link to know how much--  how important he had become in his life, which was ridiculous because, well, he had. Why hide such an obvious truth? He didn’t know, but when he thought about telling Link, he felt as if tight claws were clutching his heart. 

Maybe he wasn’t ready, which honestly was stupid. Or maybe he was nervous. A love confession is a big deal, after all. It is giving the key of one’s heart to someone, being willing to be vulnerable, and that--

That terrified Revali. 

So he said nothing, watching Link cook their meal with a gentleness he had just recently noticed. Despite all, Link wasn’t a man of war, or, at least, on occasions he didn’t seem to be. His eyes were soft in the quiet moments. 

He was so caught in his web of thoughts he didn’t notice Link approaching him. He held out a bowl of soup, which Revali accepted after a brief hesitation. Link sat next to him, though this time their shoulders barely touched. 

They ate in silence, watching the flames embrace the pot. 

The soup had a sour taste. It was good, though never had Revali eaten something of similar flavour. Link sighed happily and placed his empty bowl on the floor, eyeing him curiously. 

“This is nice,” Link said. Revali looked at him, and to his surprise, a bittersweet smile was curving his lips, as if he were already longing for the present moment. “I never get to-- the life at the castle is so hectic.”

He looked down at his intertwined hands, rubbing his thumbs together. They were calloused, scarred with traces of past battles. Revali wanted to hold them.

“I imagine,” he said. 

“I like it here,” Link said suddenly. He took a shaky breath before continuing, “I like… I like Rito village.”

Even though his lips quivered with nervousness, there was nothing spectacular about his words. Rito village was a tourist attraction for Hylians. It wasn’t a surprise Link found its views fascinating. 

“You like that everyone is willing to invite the hero to dinner,” Revali said, a hint of bitterness in his voice. 

Link looked at him with wide eyes and laughed, the sound sincere and simple. Revali felt his chest tighten, overcome with emotion. 

Eventually, the laughter ceased. An oddly peaceful moment followed. Link wore a loose smile on his lips, though it lingered only for a moment before setting into a neutral, tight expression. Revali ate slowly, savouring his meal. The sun was starting to set, descending into the horizon and casting dim shadows over the land. 

Link extended his hands in front of the flames, seeking its warmth. 

“Why did you hate me?” Link asked, voice small.

Revali looked up, astonishment contorting his face. He opened his beak to say something, but closed it again tightly. Even though he had written in his diary myriads of resentful entries about the Hylian Champion, he had never been asked to speak them out loud. It wasn’t as if-- Revali did not hate Link anymore. He wasn’t sure when his anger had dissipated, but it had. 

It was weird. He knew exactly what had vexed him about Link, and in fact, he still considered his reasoning to be extremely sound. What Revali didn’t have was the drive to despise Link anymore. Instead of hate, a new emotion had found its way to his heart, even more passionate than anger.

“I did not hate you,” Even as the words left his mouth, Revali knew he was speaking bullshit. Link glanced at him, incredulous. Revali merely averted his gaze. What? Would he have preferred the cold, bare truth?  “Do you really care about that when everything has--?”

“I do,” Link said in an outburst of emotion uncharacteristic of his stoic self. He glared at Revali, the icy stare penetrating. They stared at each other for what felt minutes; Revali trying to keep a neutral facade, Link scowling at him.

Link was the first to break eye contact. The spark of fury in his eyes dissolved, and an expression of dullness settled on his face. 

“I do,” he repeated, quietly.

“If you started to hate me again I--” Link gulped and forced himself to continue, voice hoarse, “do you hate me?”

“No. I don’t--” Revali paused, thinking. There were a lot of things he could say to Link. He could apologise. He could open his heart and hope Link wouldn’t turn away in disgust. Or he could… say the truth, even if five words weren’t enough to convey the extent of his feelings.  “I don’t hate you.”

Link looked down. There was no emotion on his face. “A hollow knight,” Revali thought, though he knew better. 

“You are the star of Hyrule,” Revali said, for the sake of filling the silence. “Everyone speaks about how gifted and talented you are. The King--”

Link shook his head. He said something, but his voice was so faint Revali barely heard it. 

Sorry.

“Don’t,” Revali said. “You work as hard as the rest.”

“I’m just-- an assbird,” Revali said. 

Link snorted.

The knot of tension in Revali’s stomach became undone. The silence became lighter, more bearable. Revali finished his meal and gazed to the exterior of the roost, where ruthless gales howled as if they wanted to tear the world apart. Revali frowned, pondering if his gale would ever be as relentless as the ones of nature.

He was determined to make it so.

“I don’t know what Hyrule thinks of you,” Link mused. Revali was tempted to reply he wasn’t thinking hard enough. Hyrule viewed him as a sidekick, a secondary character whose only purpose was to make the leads shine brighter. Sometimes, he even thought Hyrule didn’t think of him at all.

Link placed his hand atop of Revali’s wing, letting his touch linger.

“I don’t know what Hyrule thinks of you,” he repeated quietly, “but… you’re the star of my heart.”

Link smiled nervously, averting his gaze. Revali couldn’t muster an answer, as much as he attempted to. What had that been? Link had never-- had that been a fucking pick up line? No. It must have been a compliment. Link seldom gave them, but it wasn’t discardable. After all, Revali was a skilled archer-- the most skilled of all. 

“Was that good?” Link asked awkwardly. His face was  beet red. He sounded nervous, anxious even. Link fiddled awkwardly with his hands, looking at them as if they were the single most interesting thing in the world. 

Oh.

So Link had been flirting. The realisation didn’t scandalise him. It was as if he knew, not because he was arrogant, but because their relationship had been headed in that direction or a long time. Neither of them dared to admit it, though, and that was okay.

“Link,” Revali said, masking his emotions, “Why did you ask that? It ruined the moment.”

“The Rito don’t blush. How would I know otherwise?”

Revali stared at Link, raising an eyebrow. The Rito, contrary to Hylian beliefs, were an expressive species. If Link didn’t notice the small details, he would have time to do so. They would have time to learn to be with each other.

“It was good,” Revali admitted, almost begrudgingly.

Revali rarely allowed himself to think of the present. His entire existence had been aimed to the future. “Right now I’m nocking the arrow,” he thought to himself, “Someday, I will shoot.”  He only marched forward, for if he looked back, he was scared to see nothing behind him. He had dedicated his life to a success he couldn’t yet grasp. 

But for the first time in a while, Revali let himself just be. 

Outside, the chilly currents blew. The sun had set, and shadows had spilled over Hebra. Link was by his side, looking at him with those piercing eyes of his. 

Revali didn’t love Link, not yet. However, he could love Link. Tomorrow. Someday. The possibility was both exciting and terrifying. If he allowed his emotions to bloom, if he opened his heart, their relationship would flourish. There was no pressure, no goal other than to enjoy each other’s company. They could take it slow, opt for the small steps rather than a leap.

After all, they had time.

[the-moon-prince]

The Last Of us~Kurapika x Reader ~Chapter VII

AN: Hi my lovely fellows!

Last week I uploaded a new chapter nearly daily; unhappily from now on, I will take a little longer. I had a week of holidays, and I could permit myself to write every day. Despite that, I'll make my best effort to upload periodically! Thank you for your comprehension and support!

I wish you a pleasant read, and I hope you’ll enjoy the new chapter of my story.  (Chapter I) (Chapter II) (Chapter III) (Chapter IV ) (Chapter V) (Chapter VI) (Chapter VIII coming soon!)

Paring: Kurapika Kurta x GN! Reader

Word count: 2 040

TW: None!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"(Y/n)?!"

"Anibal!"-The named one exclaimed. 

Kurapika was extremely disoriented. Just a few instants before; they were surrounded by armed men, cornered, threatened, and ambushed. Aspiring to analyze the changes affecting his situation, he surveyed his surroundings. Except the people cornering them were just as baffled. He turned to (Y/n), desiring to have an explanation or at slightest a confirmation that everything was going for the best. Who turned to see him with their smile and a relieved look on their eyes. The unique remaining option was to trust (Y/n).

"What are you doing, band of lunatics?! Are you out of your mind?"-The fat man started to scold again.

"Boss, I-"The fusty and horribly dressed man got cut.

"But what are you waiting for? For the pigs to fly? Lower your weapons already and get away from them!"-He raged anew-"Are you blind? Don't they see that they are peers of mine?"

"Mr. Anibal! Hello!"-(Y/n) attempted to obtain the man's attention with a friendly greeting.

"Mx. (Y/n), what are you doing here. Why the hell do my workers have you like this? Since when do you come to places like these?"- It was clear to Kurapika that the man and his lover knew each other. They didn't appear to have a tense relationship. Leastwise they were out of peril. 

"We were calmly purchasing when we were interrupted in a terribly rude way."-they accused feigning outrage, or at the minimum, Kurapika knew they were pretending.-"One should not approach clients this manner!"-next they turned to the man named Richard, who was leaning against the wall in fear-"I'm so sorry Richard, I'm not saying that for you, you've always been very courteous to me."- that was a sincere regret, they felt bad that the man might feel insulted by what was just said.

While (Y/n) approached Kurapika to, after all this time, give an account, the bearded man also whispered something to his chief.

"Kurapika, everything will be fine; I know this man! I'm their doctor. I am convinced that they would allow us to leave."-Their explanation was vague. However, Kurapika recognized that the situation did not allow for details. The priority was to reach somewhere safe.

"(Y/n)."- A guttural voice called their names.

"Eh, yes?"-Their tone was more uncertain. Kurapika didn't like that.

"I can't let you go that easy. You are the one who attacked one of my dealers and stole merchandise."-Even if the nearly bald person didn't have a threatening tone, it was rather grave.

Kurapika couldn't allow it to escalate anymore. He summoned his chains and prepared to attack. (Y/n) discerned that and had to stop it.

"Kurapika, I implore you. I know how to mend this difficulty. I warrant you I will explain everything to you."-they wept lightly touching one of his hands. 

He understood that contact occurred to be crucial to (Y/n); losing it would be grave. He was full of pressure. It was clear that losing so much charge of the circumstances filled him with uncertainty. In contrast, he did not want a scarcity of trust in (Y/n) to disserve them. He lowered his hand. (Y/n) nodded with gratitude and smiled at him anew.

"Understandable. Let me speak to Mr. Rafael, please."-they requested- "I presume he will want to resolve this matter personally. It is doubtful that he would be pleased that something occurred to his doctor."-they approached, a clear threat despite the calm and friendly tone.

The fat man took a cell phone out of one of the pockets of his pants, dialed a number, put the speaker, and placed the phone on the table. Following a few seconds, a squeaky, choppy male voice was heard. Kurapika couldn't identify what was being said, as it was in a language he didn't understand.

"Mr. Rafael, Hello, it's (Y/n)."-they greeted in a much more certain tone.

"Hi, Mx. (Y/n)! A pleasure to talk to you. With what can I help you?"-the squeaky voice answered as if the person was talking to an old friend of his.

"Yes, Mr. Rafael. Your workers attacked me and my associates, without us even inciting them. Luckily your brother was present. There is a subject I require to discuss with you, please."-(Y/n) began to explain.

"An absurd action. I did not give the order to attack you at any time."-Was what the alleged "Rafael" responded. 

The tension of the men around them increased. By how he speaks, he was the leader of the presents. And considering the reciprocities (Y/n) had with him, what they had done for sure was serious-

"I'm sure of it, Mr. Rafael. It seems to me your brother did."-their tone was modest in the place of angry. It was an "innocent" accusation.

They adopted a low profile, even more considering the status of power and advantage they possessed was brought to light.

"Have you gone crazy, Anibal? Explain yourself"-

"They are the ones who stole the merchandise."-the fat man gulped trying to justify himself.

"It is true."- they added.

Kurapika's stress and fear increased again. "What were they doing? They could perfectly deny everything. It is ill-considered to confess!" doubts echoed in his mind. He was preparing to attack again.

"Except, you know me, I am a good and honorable person."-they continued- "I was preparing to rightly buy from one of your vendors. Still, when I arrived, he threatened me and doubled the agreed price. It was extortion so he could keep the excess money."- their timbre turned into indignation.- "You understand how shameful betrayals are. I am persuaded you will validate my reasons."- they finalized.

"What did you steal to get to this?"-Every time the squeaky voice directed to (Y/n), he was calm.

"Eyes."-the fat man rushed to respond.

"How many?"- was the single ask the piping voice made

"A pair."-(Y/n) rejoined with their iconic smile. Lastly applying a fearless voice.

"Just a pair? Are you telling me that my doctor was attacked for a pair of eyes?"-the person in the other line scoffed.

"I'm afraid so, Mr. Rafael."-All the cards were in (Y/n)'s favor.

"I'm so sorry, Mx. (Y/n). I can't believe my brother treated you like this because of a pair of eyes, even more considering how much you had helped my family."-I had already finished-" One pair of eyes is not enough reason for that rudeness. Don't worry, you can leave in peace."- Kurapika realized that the speeches of (Y/n) had been carefully chosen to arrive at that result. They knew the person strongly and knew how to manage him.

"I knew you would understand, is your mother doing fine?"-they asked gracefully as if everything that had just arrived didn't have any weight.

"Perfectly, thank you."-he answered.

"Me alegro, saludela de mi parte, por favor. Tenga buen día. (I'm glad, tell her I say hi, please. Have a nice day)"- (Y/n) concluded in the same language the voice used at the beginning of the call.

The person on the other end of the line hung up. The group of armed men looked at each other, knowing that what the future held would not be pleasing. 

"As this was a misunderstanding, we withdrew."- (Y/n) got up from their chair, walked over to the old man named Richard, and gave him some money-"I deeply apologize for this error, Richard, this is for you to arrange your door."-They were playing with the patience of the rest.

Did they need to have a hint of humor at that precise time? Kurapika was exhausted and stressed out of his mind; he was standing at the entrance waiting. He just wanted to leave the place for good.

"Have a good afternoon, gentlemen!"-they mocked, following Kurapika out of the store.

They entered the car, Kurapika in the passenger's seat, and (Y/n) placed the scarlet eyes safely on the back seats to eventually join him in front.

"I excuse Kurapika. I am aware this affected you greatly. As I promised, I will clarify the matter."-they sighed with an apologetic smile.

Kurapika was still irritated, and his head ached. Although, as much as he was bothered not being in control of conditions and working beside someone extra could be tedious at times, he was grateful. He could not dispute that his partner was cunning and sneaky. They knew what they were doing, and if it weren't for them, they wouldn't have the scarlet eyes at that moment; and they would probably have cuts provoked by shattered glass. He was relieved that everything ended well.

"Mr. Rafael is the head of a mafia that operates on the black market. They are mainly concerned with obtaining and trafficking merchandise."-they put their hands together. resting them on their lap, they had their gaze focused on them as they explained.-"He comes from another country and he brought his family with him, whom he entrusted to positions in the mafia. Among them was his mother, who does not speak English. The lady contracted Bell's Palsy disorder. Reasonably, being wanted personages, going to the hospital was threatening. And I provided her the treatment."-They turned to view him, making gestures with their hands as they continued to unfold.-"I mean, I could do it without raising misgivings. It is not unusual for psychiatrists to examine patients at their residencies! And psychiatrists are neurologists specialized in behavior and mental disorders! Plus, I speak Spanish as well!"-they mumbled, feeling responsible for all the trouble they just experienced.

"It's alright. I understand. Having a high-ranking person in the framework on your side is beneficial to retrieve elements of your clan. However, why didn't you told me?"-he tried not to trouble. The reasons were legitimate after all.

"I'm not sure."-they lowered their gaze again.-"I never imagined that something like this would appear. I was shallow, sorry. Thank you for understanding and trusting me, they are valuable connections for my objective." 

It was unpleasant for Kurapika to be upset with (Y / n). He didn't want to be upset.

"You're sneakier than you seem."-He offered them a sweet smile.

They laughed, he loved that laughter. He was undeniably ready to fight anyone who said their precious (Y/n)'s laugh was ugly.

"I also wasn't aware you spoke Spanish."-the blonde continued to tease.

"Well, Unilium lived in a place where the habitants speak Spanish. We also had our languages, so we spoke both."-they smiled-"I also like languages, they're amusing!" 

There were so several details that Kurapika still didn't know about them. Still, he was certain he desired to discover them.

"You are so strange (Y/n). But that's maybe why I love you."

They couldn't help but give a soft and loving smile.-"I love you the most."

[aerynwrites]

Taken - Javier Pen͂a x Reader

Author’s Note: UGh, i had so much fun writing this one. I LOVE ANGST YOU GUYS. LOVE IT. Anyways, I hope you all enjoy this little request I did, I know I sure do! As always I love to hear from you guys, and I hope you enjoy! <3

Request: Javi or Whiskey request:  You are partners and there is sexual tension between you, but your relationship is strictly professional.   When he goes missing during an assignment, you tell yourself that if he is rescued, you will tell him how you feel.  Unbeknownst to you (of course), he is telling himself the same thing.  When he is rescued, you fall into each others' arms and there is hugging and kissing and confessing and sweet words and fluff.  Your coworkers are like, "When did this happen?!"  (requested by anonymous)    

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: Mentions of torture, Blood, mntions of injuries, Angst, Fluff.

//// 

A series of muffled thumps and loud crashes from the other side of you wall, rips you from a dead sleep. You immediately sit straight up in bed and grab the gun from your nightstand before quickly walking to your apartment door. The sounds of a struggle had died down and were followed quickly by a door slamming open. All of these sounds were coming from Javier Pen͂a’s apartment, which just happened to be right next to yours. You were immediately concerned, worried about what could possibly be happening next door. So, you pull your door open quickly and step out into the hallway, gun raised and ready to fire if need be. You walked swiftly and silently over to his apartment, only to see the door sitting wide open and obvious signs of a struggle within the apartment as well as blood.

Wait…blood?

Your mind was sent into overdrive as you took in the sight before you. You were about to go inside and look around more thoroughly but the sound of voices and footsteps down the hallway to the front of your apartment made you do otherwise. You turned around and tried to move quickly as you approached the front entrance of the building. The sounds of a struggle returned, and Javier’s disgruntled voice filled your ears. You started to sprint now, finally coming to the doorway of the building, only to see a group of six men shoving a fighting Javier into a dark green SUV.

“Hey!” you barked; gun raised.

One of the men not holding Javier raised his gun to fire on you but you were quicker. You aimed expertly and pulled the trigger, watching as the man falls to the ground. The other men started speaking in hurried Spanish as they finally managed to get Javier in the vehicle. But just before the door closed, you managed to catch Javier’s eyes and you felt your heart stop at the fear that filled them.

“Javier!” you cried, raising your gun and managing to down one more of the men before the car sped off, you running pathetically after it as it sped out of sight.

You let out a frustrated and panicked huff before you turned around, jumping over the bodies on the ground and sprinting into the building and up the stairs, calling Steve’s name the entire way. just as you were about to reach his door you see a disheveled Steve Murphy, pistol in hand, stumble out of his door, Connie peaking out from behind him.

“What? What happened, we heard gun shots – is that blood?” his voice was panicked now as he looked over you, hand coming to grasp your upper arm firmly.

You shake him off and look frantically from him to the stairs, “It’s not mine but that’s not the point – “ you stumble over your words, “Steve- Steve, they took Javier!” you wailed, “I just woke up to noises from his apartment and by the time I got to him they had-“ you had to pause to take in a gulping breath of air as you remembered the terrifying scene, “they had shoved him into a SUV and they were gone! They took him Steve, they took him!” by now you were in hysterics, tears flowing freely down your face and body shaking violently.

Steve grasped your arms gently and lead you over to Connie, “Okay, it’s okay. I’m going to call the ambassador and we will get everyone in there mother down here to solve this,” he assured, ushering you both into the apartment and looking to Connie, “Keep an eye on her please? Maybe get her some clothes to change into?” he suggests.

Connie nods and puts her arm around you, guiding you over to the kitchen table, “Yeah, of course,” she looks at to you now, “(y/n) honey, you stay right here, I’ll be right back.”

You hear what she says, but you don’t acknowledge it, the look of fear in Javi’s eyes being the only thing you can think of in the moment. You and Javier had both gotten reassigned to Colombia at the same time to head the task force on Pablo Escobar. You both had been through everything together, including when Steve Murphy had joined the team. You had been the one to quell the initial animosity between the two and had pretty much been the glue holding everyone together through the things that had happened. So, it was expected that you would form close bonds with your partners. However, the longer you worked with Javier, the more and more you had fallen for him. Between the weekly dinners and movie nights and the daily work duties you had to carry out together, you had seen a different side of Javier. A gentler and kinder side that you had grown to love over the years but chose not to reveal. In this line of work, it was dangerous to have connections. Real and true connections and feelings with someone were dangerous because it could be used against you. However, you were more afraid of the possible rejection that could come in the wake of your admission, so you just decided to enjoy what you already had, not wanting to ruin the friendship.

Oh, how foolish you had been.

Because now, you may never have the chance. Those men that took him were most likely working for Escobar, and you knew what happened to people taken by that man. And it wasn’t good. Just as Connie entered the kitchen once more a harsh sob slipped past your lips as all the pent-up emotions finally surfaced. Connie rushed over to you, setting the clothing on the table and crouching down in front of you, hands grasping yours gently.

“hey, hey,” she said softly, “What’s wrong?”

You shook your head as more tears fell and took in a deep shuddering breath, “I love him, Connie,” you blubber, “I love him and I never told him and now…” another wave of sobs interrupts you as you think of what could happen, “Now I’ll never get to tell him.”

Connie stared at you, eyes wide but understanding as she looked at you, she had some idea of your feelings for her husbands’ partner. But now, with the words out in the open, she felt a pang of sympathy shoot through her.

“Well,” she said quietly, pulling you into a gentle hug, “When they find him, you’ll just have to tell him how you feel.”

And even though your mind wanted to jump to the worst conclusions, you felt a spark of hope ignite within you, and you resolved to take Connie’s advise when you saw Javier again.

* * *

Javier had lost track of time in the small concrete area he was being held in. while he did have a small window that let in some light, he had passed out so many times he could no longer keep up with the days.

Had it been days? Or weeks? Months?

He had no idea. He felt himself shrivel slightly at the thought. The hopelessness of the situation had finally sunk in. He remembers that night clearly though, the voices that woke him from his sleep followed by the multitude if hands all over him dragging him from his bed, his home. The one place he was supposed to feel safe.

But most of all he remembers, the look on your face as they finally managed to get him in the car. The look of absolute desperation, helplessness, and fear etched onto your features as you had tried with all your power to save him. You were the only thing that kept him going, kept him alive. The thought of dying in this dark, damp hellhole without telling you how he truly felt was a nightmare. Unbeknownst to you, Javier had fallen in love with you too. Your smile and the way it made the corners of your eyes wrinkle. The way your nose scrunched up when you laughed. He just loved you for everything you were. You were so authentically you, and you didn’t let the darkness from the job darken your demeanor or personality in anyway. Javier had felt consumed by the darkness until he met you. As cliché as it sounded, you were his ray of light, the only thing keeping him sane in this fucked up world. So, the thought of you not knowing that, not knowing what you meant to him…that’s what kept him alive and fighting. He knew that they people holding him, that Escobar, wouldn’t get rid of him until they had what they wanted. So, Javier kept quiet, not giving them a speck of information they wanted. He was sure he was on the brink of death several times. Forced awake in the night by the freezing temperatures and then introduced to the same torture techniques each and every day. But he still held strong, for you.

He had too.

And that is what he kept telling himself, the image of your face plaguing his mind as he finally managed to fall into a fitful sleep.

* * *

You were currently sat at your desk in the embassy, chewing incessantly at your nails, a new habit you had picked up since Javi was taken three weeks ago.

Three weeks.

Three weeks, Javi had been missing, and it seemed like any and all hope of finding him was dwindling with each passing day. You had barely been able to function, crying yourself to sleep every night at the thought of what he was going through, if he was even still alive. That thought alone made you cry so hard that Connie and Steve could hear it through their floor. You were constantly on edge, thinking you see him on the street corner when in actuality it’s just a stranger. Or jumping when the phone rang, answering it frantically, hoping it’s the call, only to deflate when it’s the ambassador telling you of another dead end. Steve didn’t know what to do. You both still had a job to do, but as each day passed you continued to slip further and further from reality. Constantly consumed with worry for the man you loved, and Steve was at a loss for how to help you. That was until he received a call while you were in a meeting with the Ambassador.

The call.

Colonel Carrillo had found Javier in a remote abandoned village house. He made quick work of the men there and they were currently on their way to the hospital located near the embassy. Steve slammed the phone back down on the receiver before rushing to the Ambassadors office and flung the doors open.

“Agent Murphy what in the hell-“ the Ambassador started, shocked at his abrupt entrance.

Steve interrupted her, looking directly at you now, who had turned around at the sound of his entrance, “They found him. They’re on their way to the hospital now.”

You stood abruptly at this news, almost stumbling over your chair as you walked towards Steve, hands grasping his arms desperately, “A-are you sure – I mean is he-“ you paused swallowing past the lump in your throat, “Is he alright? Is he alive?” you gasp out the words, your mind running a million miles a minute as you tried to process the new information.

Steve gave you a gentle smile and nodded, “He’s fine, and he’s alive.”

“Well let’s go,” you say, letting go of Steve and walking towards the door, your meeting completely forgotten.

You sit in the car, gazing out of the window at the passing scenery, your leg bouncing erratically against the car floor. You were biting your nails once again, as you made the journey to the hospital in Steve’s car. Was he okay? Would he ever be mentally or physically okay after what happened? where has he been? You had only briefly listened to that Steve had told you. Enough to gather that it was in fact Escobar’s men that had taken Javi, and that they had tortured him for information. You shuddered at the thought. But before you could dwell much longer on it, Steve was pulling up to the hospital. The moment the car pulled to a stop, your eyes grazed across the various bodies on the sidewalk and landed on him. He was currently being ushered from a police car into the hospital several doctors already surrounding him. even from this far away, you could see the shape he was in. His face was dark with dirt and grime and most likely dried blood and he was slumped over in exhaustion. But the moment you laid eyes on him you jumped from the car, ignoring Steve’s voice telling you to wait, and towards Javier.

“Javi! Javier!” you cried, getting closer and closer to him with every step, your heart finally mending itself back together as he turned around to face you.

You saw him struggle with the people around him shoving their grips from him and pushing past them towards you. one of his hands still help firmly to a blanket wrapped around him as he moved towards you, a slight limp in his gate. You felt your heart clench at this, but you didn’t have time to dwell on it before you finally collided with the man you loved in a tight embrace, head buried into his neck, tears streaming down your face once more. You felt him take in a shuddering breath as he too buried his face into your hair and gripped onto you so tightly that you thought he might squeeze the air from your lungs. But you didn’t care. You finally pulled away from him and took his face in your hands gently, eyes running over his face and finally seeing the full extent of the damage. He had multiple cuts and bruises on his face, along with dried blood on his lips and some leading from his hairline over his eyebrow.

You felt more tears spill from your eyes as you gently ran your thumb over the dark bruise on his cheek, “I’m so sorry. I couldn’t save you,” you whispered.

Javier shook his head, bringing his free hand up to grasp your hand gently in his own, “Don’t apologize, you did everything you could.”

You shook your head, “But it wasn’t enough,” you say sourly, “look at what happened.”

Neither of you spoke, Javier seemingly lost for words, and you choking on all of the ones you still had to say.

Finally after what felt like hours of silence you both spoke at the same time, “I have to tell you something.”

You paused, and when he opened his mouth to speak you put a finger over it, stopping him, “Me first,” you begin, “Javier I think-“ your words catch in your throat, and you have to take a deep breath to settle yourself, “I think I’m in love with you,” you croaked, your voice betraying you.

Javier, seemed taken aback, physically recoiling from the admission. And you felt your heart deflate, of course he didn’t feel the same way. You felt shame start to swell inside of you, embarrassment following quickly behind it. But before you could recant your statement, Javier dropped your hand and wrapped his around the back of your neck, bringing you in for a desperate kiss. You were shocked at first, confused by his seemingly mixed reactions, but quickly melted into it. Your hands still held his face gently as you both poured everything into this one action. Every sleepless night, every crying session, every day spent longing after one another was out in the open. Finally, you both parted and Javier rested his forehead against yours.

“You were the only thing keeping me going in that house,” he admitted quietly, “The idea of dying and not telling you how I felt…it was worse than anything they could do to me. So, I told myself then and there that if I got out, I would tell you,” he said, letting out a breathy chuckle, “But it looks like you beat me too it.”

And airy laugh passed your lips as a few stray tears dripped from your eyes, “It looks like it.”

Javier wiped away the droplets, finger brushing lightly over your lips as he did so, “I love you so much (y/n),” he breathes, adoration filling his eyes.

You gave him a watery smile before pulling him into a tight embrace, never wanting to let go, “I love you more,” you respond.

And Javier didn’t argue.

////

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