#I just realised this aired right after Doctor who

[whitedarkmoonflower]

When Shadows Yield to Light

Pairing: Uhtred x Sihtric x Finan

Authors note: this is my birthday gift to the amazing and one-of-a-kind @alexagirlie 🎉 It also happens to be the first m/m fic I’ve ever written—and if it's the first why not dive straight into a poly one, right? 🙈 Oh, I will not lie—I struggled a lot to make this work at the beginning, but then at some point it started to flow and I was in awe at myself 😅 Hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it for you! ❤️

Warnings: SMUT 18+, m/m/m, oral sex, anal sex, subtle hints of past abuse and trauma (read: my daily doses of angst prescribed by doctor, sorry I can't without it)

Word Count: 5,5K

Summary: With his hand hovering over his lord’s door, Sihtric hesitates, gathering his courage to knock, unaware that what awaits him on the other side will change everything he thought he knew about loyalty, desire, and himself.

Please remember that comments and reblogs are two things that make writers smile and keep us motivated.

Sihtric's breath came in ragged bursts as he tried to calm his frantic heartbeat. His hand hovered in the air, poised to knock on the door, but hesitation gripped him. His fist unclenched, and his palm pressed flat against the rough wood instead.

He leaned his forehead against the door, his breathing heavy and uneven. His hand balled into a fist again, ready to knock—but before he could summon the courage, the door creaked open. The unexpected sound made Sihtric flinch.

"Sihtric?" Uhtred's voice was thick with surprise.

"Yes, lord!" The young Dane quickly raised his eyes to meet his lord's questioning gaze, heat rising to his cheeks. His mind raced, scrambling for an excuse, any explanation for why he was standing outside his lord’s chambers in the dead of night.

Uhtred’s hair was loose, cascading over his broad shoulders in thick, windswept waves. Sihtric’s breath hitched as his eyes briefly swept over Uhtred’s bare chest. The firelight from behind cast a warm, flickering glow over his skin, illuminating the scars that marked his body like battle-worn trophies. Clad only in his breeches, Uhtred stood barefoot, his powerful frame filling the doorway.

Sihtric’s heart stammered, not just from the embarrassment of waking his lord but from something deeper—an unspoken reverence for the man who stood before him. He swallowed hard, but as he did, he caught sight of something else—a shadow moving behind Uhtred. Sihtric’s eyes widened in realisation.

Uhtred was not alone.

The thought hit him like a blow to the chest, and another wave of embarrassment surged through him, making his cheeks burn hotter than before. His pulse quickened in shame. 

“I’m sorry,” Sihtric mumbled, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I didn’t mean to disturb you. It’s nothing important. It can wait. I’m sorry…” He took a step back, eager to retreat, to erase his intrusion.

But Uhtred didn’t let him go so easily.

"What is it, Sihtric?" Uhtred arched an eyebrow, his voice calm but carrying a strange edge. “It must have been important enough for you to come here in the middle of the night.”

Sihtric hesitated, torn between the need to speak and the urge to disappear. His hand clenched at his side, and he could feel Uhtred's gaze on him, piercing and unyielding. He stole another glance at Uhtred’s chest, at the way the firelight played across his skin, but the presence of someone hidden in the shadows of the room behind him made him feel increasingly embarrassed and even stupid. His lips parted, but no words came. 

Sihtric had needed all his courage to come here, he didn’t know he would need more of it. He hadn’t even thought of what would come after.

Uhtred watched the young Dane with increasing curiosity. The way his cheeks painted crimson, the way he swallowed hard as his eyes moved back to Uhtred’s bare chest over and over again although he tried to keep them casted down.

“Sihtric,” his voice was commanding and made the young Dane freeze in his tracks. “Come in.”

Sihtric swallowed hard. He hesitated, his feet rooted to the ground as though the floorboards beneath him were quicksand. He felt a lump rise in his throat, but he didn’t dare disobey. Slowly, he stepped forward, his leather boots creaking softly against the wood. Uhtred moved aside, allowing Sihtric to enter the chamber, and the door closed with a quiet thud behind him.

The warmth of the fire enveloped Sihtric, a stark contrast to the cold sweat on his back. His eyes darted around the room, searching for the shadow he had seen earlier. It was then he noticed him. Finan stood, leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his bare chest.

Finan’s eyes sparkled with curiosity, though his expression remained guarded. His dark hair was tousled, and his smirk was just visible in the flickering firelight. He tilted his head slightly, a brow arched as he studied Sihtric.

“Well, isn’t this a sight,” Finan drawled, his Irish accent pleasant but teasing. “The pup comes scratchin’ at the door in the middle of the night. What’s wrong, lad? Couldn’t sleep without hearin’ a bedtime story?”

Sihtric’s cheeks burned hot, and he clenched his fists at his sides. The weight of both men’s gazes pressed down on him, making it nearly impossible to form words. He glanced at Uhtred, who stood nearby, arms crossed in silent expectation, then back at Finan.

“I didn’t know you were here,” Sihtric muttered, his voice tight.

“That much is clear,” Finan said with a chuckle, pushing off the wall. He stepped closer, his smirk softening. “So, what’s eatin’ at you, lad? It’s not like you to be skulkin’ around at this hour.”

“Finan,” Uhtred’s voice cut through the air, firm and commanding, halting whatever teasing remark his friend was about to unleash. The flicker of discomfort on Sihtric’s face didn’t escape him—the young Dane looked as if he might combust from sheer embarrassment. Uhtred turned to the table, grabbed a mug, and poured a generous serving of ale.

“Here,” he said, offering it to Sihtric with a calm, steady gaze.

The ale was fresh, its strong flavour filling Sihtric with a surprising warmth that settled his nerves, if only slightly. He drank it quickly, the liquid sliding down his throat in hasty gulps. His eyes, however, betrayed him, flitting between Uhtred and Finan. The sight before him was hard to ignore—two formidable warriors, their muscles shifting under scarred, sun-kissed skin, their powerful frames clad in nothing but breeches. Only then did it strike him as odd. They were both shirtless, their bare feet scuffing softly against the worn wooden floor as they moved.

“I… I didn’t mean to disturb…” Sihtric stammered, his voice faltering under their stares. His wide, darting eyes kept shifting between his lord and Finan.

“That much you’ve already said,” Uhtred smirked, the corner of his lips quirking upward. Sihtric couldn’t help but notice the glint in his lord’s eyes—a strange, intense hunger. It was unsettling and captivating all at once. Uhtred licked his lips as he took a step closer, and Sihtric froze under his gaze.

“I think it’s time to stop playing games,” Uhtred continued, his voice softer now, a low rumble that made Sihtric’s heart race. He tilted his head, two deep pools of piercing blue watching as Sihtric flinched slightly when Uhtred’s hand came to rest on the young Dane’s shoulder.

The air in the room seemed heavier, the flickering fire casting golden light and long, wavering shadows that danced across the walls. Sihtric could feel his heartbeat pounding in his throat, his body frozen between fight and flight or maybe something else.

“You’ve been holding back for too long, haven’t you?” Uhtred asked, his voice low, velvety growl that sent a shiver down Sihtric’s spine.

“I—” Sihtric started, but his words failed him. 

“You’re not very good at hiding it, lad,” Finan said from his place near the fire, his tone a teasing drawl, though his voice was softer than usual. “Always sneaking glances, always looking like you’ve got somethin’ to say but never quite sayin’ it. Don’t worry—we’ve been patient.”

Sihtric’s eyes widened. He opened his mouth to protest, to deny the words, but the knowing smiles on both their faces silenced him. Uhtred took another step closer, his bare chest inches from Sihtric’s own. The Dane felt as if the floor beneath him might give way entirely.

Uhtred’s hand slid from Sihtric’s shoulder, the touch slow and deliberate, trailing down his arm until his fingers brushed against Sihtric’s wrist. “It’s all right,” Uhtred murmured, his other hand gently tipping Sihtric’s chin upward, forcing him to meet his gaze. “You don’t have to hide anything from us, Sihtric. Not here.”

“We all know why you’re here, Sihtric,” he murmured, his tone laced with something almost tender as he nodded toward Finan. Sihtric hadn’t even noticed how quietly Finan had closed the distance, until now, as he felt the Irishman’s presence at his back and his palms landing on Sihtric’s waist.

For a brief moment, Sihtric’s chest tightened, his breath catching in his throat as his body tensed. A shiver ran through him, a flicker of unease clawing its way up his spine. The warmth of Finan’s breath against his neck felt too close, the firm touch of his hands too familiar in a way that made his skin prickle.

They were still there, buried deep in his mind—the dark shadows, reminding him of hands that had been neither kind nor wanted, when touch had come without care, and voices had carried commands laced with cruelty, not warmth. 

Sihtric’s shoulders stiffened, pulse hammering erratically and Finan paused, his movements faltering as he caught the tremor in Sihtric’s frame. Finan’s gaze darted to Uhtred, confusion flashing in his eyes before understanding dawned. Uhtred nodded subtly, his hand remaining firm on Sihtric’s wrist, steadying him. Finan softened instantly, his hands loosening their hold as his fingers brushed gently over Sihtric’s hips in a soothing motion.

“Easy, lad,” Finan murmured, his voice quiet and warm, the teasing edge replaced by soft worry. “You’re safe here. You set the pace. Always.”

Sihtric swallowed hard, his lips parting as if to respond, but his throat felt too tight. The warmth radiating from Uhtred’s body, the intensity of his gaze, and Finan’s steady presence behind him were overwhelming. 

Sihtric’s pulse quickened, each beat thundering in his ears as his thoughts spun wildly, a whirlwind of confusion and anticipation. He felt the brush of Finan’s hand against his back, steady and reassuring, but the heat of it burned through the fabric of his tunic.

The warmth of their bodies, so close to his own, seemed to seep into him, igniting a strange, dizzying heat. He could feel Finan behind him, his breath a soft whisper against Sihtric’s neck, while Uhtred’s hand kept him rooted in place. 

There was no escape—not that Sihtric was entirely certain he wanted one.

Sihtric drew in a shaky breath, the grounding warmth of their touch pulling him back to the present, reminding him this was different—they were different.

Finan stepped closer, his fingers brushing against Sihtric’s shoulder as he leaned in. “You don’t need to say a word,” Finan murmured, his breath warm against Sihtric’s ear. “Not if you don’t want to.”

The words sent a shudder through Sihtric, his breath hitching as a flood of emotions threatened to drown him. A part of him wanted to run, to escape and hide, erasing this moment from his memory. But another part—a part he barely dared to acknowledge—wanted to stay, to see what would happen if he let himself fall into the warmth of their embrace.

Uhtred’s thumb brushed lightly across Sihtric’s jaw, his voice soft yet commanding. “Trust us.”

The simple words unravelled something deep within Sihtric, the last thread of resistance snapping as he exhaled another shaky breath. He nodded, his movements hesitant but deliberate.

“There’s a good lad,” Finan murmured, his voice tinged with pride as he pressed a reassuring hand to Sihtric’s back.

Uhtred leaned in first, his lips brushing against Sihtric’s in a feather-light touch, testing the waters, giving him the chance to pull away. But Sihtric didn’t move; instead, he tilted his head slightly, leaning into the kiss with a tentative eagerness that made Uhtred smile against his mouth.

When Uhtred pulled back, Finan was already there, his hands resting on Sihtric’s shoulders as he turned him gently. “My turn,” Finan said with a grin before capturing Sihtric’s lips in a kiss that was softer, slower, but no less certain.

Sihtric felt himself melting under Finan’s touch, the kiss sending a warmth spiralling through him that he hadn’t expected. Finan’s lips were softer than he imagined, his movements unhurried yet firm, giving Sihtric the space to respond. The room seemed to grow quieter, the crackling of the fire dimming under the sound of their breaths mingling. When Finan finally pulled away, his forehead pressed gently to Sihtric’s, the Irishman’s ever-present grin softened into something more tender.

“See?” Finan murmured, his hands sliding down to rest on Sihtric’s arms. “Nothin’ to be scared of, lad.”

Sihtric blinked at him, his heart pounding so hard he swore they must have heard it. His lips tingled from their kisses, and his cheeks burned hot, but the fear he’d expected to feel wasn’t there. Instead, there was a strange, overwhelming sense of belonging.

Uhtred’s hand on his lower back reminded him of his presence. Sihtric turned to find his lord watching him with the same steady confidence that had drawn him to Uhtred from the very beginning. There was no hesitation, no doubt—only an invitation to take another step forward.

“Do you trust us now?” Uhtred asked, his voice low and coaxing. His thumb brushed against Sihtric’s cheek again, a gesture so gentle it made Sihtric’s breath hitch.

“Yes, lord,” Sihtric whispered, the words leaving his lips without hesitation this time.

“Good,” Uhtred said with a nod, his expression softening further. “Because this isn’t about orders or loyalty. This is about us. You, me, and Finan. And it only happens if you want it to.”

Sihtric swallowed hard, his gaze flickering between the two men. He felt the weight of their sincerity, the way they were giving him space even now to choose. It was almost too much—this kindness, this care—but Sihtric found himself nodding again, this time more firmly.

“I want this,” he said, his voice steadier. “I—I want you. Both of you.”

Finan let out a soft laugh, pulling Sihtric into a one-armed embrace. “That’s the spirit, lad. You’ve made us wait long enough.”

Uhtred chuckled, stepping closer until their bodies nearly touched. His hand slid from Sihtric’s cheek to the back of his neck, his fingers threading through the shorter hair there. “Then there’s no more need for hesitation,” he murmured, leaning in once more.

This time, the kiss was deeper, more certain, and Sihtric found himself responding instinctively. His hands, unsure at first, reached up to rest against Uhtred’s chest, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath his fingertips. Uhtred hummed approvingly, the sound reverberating against Sihtric’s lips.

Finan, never one to be left out, pressed his lips to the side of Sihtric’s neck, his breath hot against his skin as his hands trailed down Sihtric’s sides. The combination of their touches, their warmth surrounding him, made Sihtric feel as though he was standing at the edge of something vast and uncharted. But for once, he wasn’t afraid to step forward.

Their hands moved with a gentle confidence, working together to free Sihtric from his clothes. Each touch sent sparks skittering across his skin, leaving him breathless. The room felt impossibly warm, every brush of their hands, lips, and bodies drawing him deeper into the haze of sensation. Sihtric’s head spun, overwhelmed by the intensity of it all but unable to resist the way it consumed him.

Finan’s beard tickled pleasantly against his neck as he trailed kisses along the sensitive skin there, each press of his lips followed by a soft nip or a slow, deliberate suck that left Sihtric shivering. His hands gripped at Finan’s shoulders, desperate for something to hold on as his body was set alight.

Uhtred, ever commanding even in this, captured his lips with heated urgency. His tongue swept into Sihtric’s mouth, claiming and exploring with an intensity that made Sihtric moan. The sound was swallowed by Uhtred’s kiss, his fingers threading through Sihtric’s hair to hold him close.

A sharp gasp escaped Sihtric as Finan’s hand slid lower, curling firmly around his cock. The Irishman’s touch was sure, his fingers stroking with a deliberate rhythm that had Sihtric arching into his palm.

“Would you look at that,” Finan chuckled, his voice thick with admiration as he glanced down. His grin was playful but tinged with genuine appreciation. “You’ve been truly gifted, lad.”

Sihtric’s cheeks flushed a deep crimson at Finan’s words, the compliment landing somewhere between embarrassment and pride. His response was a shaky, breathless moan as Finan’s hand moved again, teasing and coaxing more sounds from him.

“Careful, Finan,” Uhtred murmured against Sihtric’s lips, pulling back just enough to speak. His voice was low, teasing but commanding all the same. “Don’t overwhelm him too quickly.”

Finan smirked, his gaze flicking up to meet Uhtred’s. “Overwhelm? This lad’s a warrior, isn’t he? He can take it.”

Sihtric’s lips parted, a soft whimper escaping as the sensations mounted, the combination of Finan’s skilled touch and Uhtred’s intense presence threatening to undo him completely.

Uhtred’s hand drifted down, his fingers brushing over Sihtric’s chest before resting at his hip. “He can take it,” Uhtred agreed with a knowing smile, his eyes locking onto Sihtric’s. “But that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t savour this.”

The slow, deliberate way they worked together to unravel him left Sihtric trembling, his body responding to their every touch. He let himself go, surrendering to the safety of their hands, the warmth of their bodies, and the unspoken promise in their eyes: he was theirs, and they would take care of him.

Sihtric’s eyes widened in surprise, his breath hitching as he watched his lord sink gracefully to his knees. The sight alone was enough to send a jolt through him—a man as powerful and commanding as Uhtred lowering himself before him, the flicker of a mischievous glint lighting up his intense gaze.

“L-Lord…” Sihtric stammered, his voice shaky, his mind struggling to keep pace with the reality unfolding before him. But before he could form a coherent thought, his words were stolen from him. A raw, unrestrained moan tore from his throat as Uhtred’s lips wrapped around him, warm and firm.

The sensation was incredible. Uhtred’s mouth moved with deliberate purpose, his tongue tracing along Sihtric’s length in a way that made his knees threaten to give in. Sihtric’s hands shot out instinctively, clutching at Uhtred’s broad shoulders, desperate for support as his body betrayed him, buckling under the sudden onslaught of pleasure.

“By the gods…” Sihtric breathed, his head tilting back as he surrendered to the waves of sensation coursing through him, fingers flexing against Uhtred’s skin.

Uhtred glanced up at him, his eyes smouldering with a mixture of amusement and intent. Uhtred’s hands gripped Sihtric’s hips, firm enough to steady him but not restricting, allowing Sihtric to move if he needed to.

Behind him, Finan’s low chuckle rumbled through the air. “Looks like our young Dane’s got himself in good hands,” he teased, his voice dripping with warmth and mischief. Sihtric felt a flush spread across his skin, heat pooling in his cheeks and chest, but there was no time to respond—not with the way Uhtred’s mouth and tongue were drawing another lewd sound from his lips.

“Relax, lad,” Finan murmured, pressing himself flush against Sihtric’s back, his hand settling at the base of Sihtric’s neck, grounding him with a gentle squeeze. “Let yourself enjoy it.”

Sihtric’s breath hitched again, his body trembling as he surrendered fully to the overwhelming current of pleasure coursing through him. Uhtred worked him with practised ease, his lips and tongue driving Sihtric to the brink, unravelling him completely. The young Dane’s hands clutched desperately at Uhtred’s hair, his fingers tangling in the soft strands as his hips moved involuntarily, seeking more of the bliss Uhtred offered.

Soft, broken moans spilled from Sihtric’s lips, each one more desperate than the last. His head tilted back, resting heavily against Finan’s chest. The Irishman’s arms wrapped around him, holding him steady.

“I’m close,” Sihtric gasped, his voice trembling with a mix of urgency and embarrassment. “Lord, I—I can’t hold back anymore.”

Finan’s chuckle was warm against Sihtric’s ear, his breath tickling the sensitive skin and sending another shiver through him. “Then don’t, lad,” Finan murmured, his voice low and coaxing. His lips brushed against Sihtric’s ear as he whispered, “Let go. Cum for your lord.”

Uhtred couldn’t respond, his mouth otherwise occupied, but the muffled hum of his approval vibrated against Sihtric, sending him over the edge. Sihtric cried out, his body tensing as the wave of release crashed over him, leaving him trembling in their arms. Uhtred didn’t pull back, his movements slowing but deliberate, drawing every last ounce of pleasure from Sihtric until the young Dane was spent.

Sihtric slumped bonelessly against Finan, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. Uhtred finally pulled away, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he looked up at Sihtric, a mischievous but satisfied grin tugging at his lips.

“Good lad,” Uhtred smirked, his voice rough with satisfaction. Finan chuckled softly, his fingers brushing tenderly through Sihtric’s damp hair, sending a ripple of warmth down the young Dane’s spine.

“That was only the beginning, boy,” Finan said with a teasing grin. “We’ve got the whole night ahead of us.”

Sihtric’s cheeks flushed a deeper crimson, his chest rising and falling in heavy waves as he struggled to process what had just happened. It all felt impossible, like a dream too vivid to be real. Just moments ago, he had been standing outside Uhtred’s door, his courage faltering with every second that passed. Never in his wildest dreams had he thought this was what awaited him beyond that closed door.

He had grown too accustomed to giving himself away—his body a vessel for others’ pleasure, used to fleeting encounters with little room for his own needs. But this… this was different. Encircled by Uhtred’s steady strength and Finan’s teasing warmth, Sihtric felt a tenderness he hadn’t dared to hope for, a care that cradled him as much as their hands did.

He shuddered, a quiet, almost involuntary movement, as a thought crossed his mind. Is this what being loved feels like?

Finan’s hand gently gripping his wrist brought him back to reality, the Irishman’s steady pull coaxing him toward the bed. The fur-covered surface seemed impossibly soft, a stark contrast to the rugged hands that guided him. Sihtric followed willingly, his steps hesitant but unresisting, the shy smile tugging at his lips betraying the sweet anticipation coursing through his veins.

“Don’t hold back now, lad,” Finan murmured, his voice softer than before, the teasing edge tempered by genuine care. “This night’s for you, too.”

Uhtred was already there, reclining against the plush furs with a confidence that made Sihtric’s pulse quicken. His eyes, warm and steady, met Sihtric’s, silently promising safety and desire in equal measure. Sihtric felt his breath hitch, but he didn’t falter. He let Finan guide him closer, the weight of their attention both overwhelming and comforting.

The bed dipped under their combined weight as Finan joined them, his hand never leaving Sihtric’s wrist, as if he felt how much Sihtric needed that—not to lose the physical contact reassuring him that this was indeed real, anchoring him in presence. Uhtred’s hand reached out, cupping Sihtric’s cheek, his thumb tracing a slow, deliberate line along his jaw.

“This is your place,” Uhtred said softly, his voice steady and firm, leaving no room for doubt. “With us.”

Sihtric swallowed hard, his chest tightening with emotion as he nodded. His lips parted to speak, but no words came—none were needed. Instead, he leaned forward, letting himself fall into their embrace once more, the warmth of their bodies and the tenderness of their touches setting him on fire once again.

“Go on, take him. Don’t hold back—our lord loves it a bit rough,” Finan whispered, his voice a low, raspy tease that sent a shiver cascading down Sihtric’s spine. The young Dane hesitated, his eyes drinking in the sight of Uhtred’s naked body sprawled before him, strong and inviting, yet somehow vulnerable in his surrender.

“And if you want,” Finan murmured, his lips brushing against the shell of Sihtric’s ear, “I’ll do the same for you.” The words, paired with the subtle press of Finan’s cock against him, made Sihtric’s own twitch with a desperate need that left him gasping.

His body was a storm of sensations, his cock throbbing and leaking from all the affection Uhtred and Finan had lavished upon him. It felt as if no part of him had been left untouched, every inch of his skin kissed, claimed, and adored. Their passion had unravelled him completely, stripping him of any fear or doubt. Sihtric had given back all he could—his lips and hands exploring every scar and curve, his mouth yielding eagerly, letting them fuck it until tears spilled down his cheeks.

He had poured himself into every touch, helping to prepare Uhtred with fingers slicked in rose-scented oil, savouring the way his lord’s body responded to him. And when Finan’s fingers had worked their way into Sihtric’s own body, spreading him open with careful but relentless intent, his moans had turned to cries of wild pleasure.

He pressed the head of his cock against Uhtred’s entrance and Uhtred moaned, his head tipping back onto the bed, exposing the strong line of his throat. “You know what to do, don’t you?” Finan asked, his voice a mixture of encouragement and playful challenge. His hands rested firmly on Sihtric’s hips, steadying him as he pressed his own body closer, teasing Sihtric’s hole with his cock.

Sihtric nodded, though his breath was shaky and uneven. The heat of Finan’s body at his back and the sight of Uhtred laid bare before him were almost too much to bear. He drew in a deep, shuddering breath, summoning the courage he needed. Slowly, he began to push forward, the tight heat of Uhtred’s body drawing him in, inch by inch.

Uhtred groaned, his hands fisting in the furs beneath him, his body arching slightly as he took Sihtric in. “By the gods, you are perfect, Sihtric,” Uhtred murmured, his voice thick and laden with pleasure. “Don’t stop. Take what you need.”

Finan’s grip on Sihtric’s hips tightened as he leaned in, his breath hot against Sihtric’s neck. “That’s it, lad. See? You were made for this,” he murmured, his voice filled with a mixture of pride and desire. The tip of his cock pressed insistently against Sihtric’s entrance, adding a delicious pressure that made the young Dane gasp.

Sihtric’s gasp turned into a low, trembling moan, his body caught in the intoxicating heat between Uhtred and Finan. The pressure at his back combined with the tightness of Uhtred’s body around him sent his senses spiralling. 

“Easy now,” Finan murmured, his lips grazing the back of Sihtric’s neck. His voice was steady, but the hunger in it was unmistakable. “Let yourself feel it.”

Sihtric bit his lip, nodding faintly as he began to move, his hips rocking slowly, tentatively, in and out of Uhtred’s welcoming heat. Every motion sent ripples of pleasure through him, Uhtred’s low groans encouraging him to keep going, to take more. But the insistent presence of Finan behind him made it impossible to stay focused, the Irishman’s cock teasing at his entrance, driving him mad.

“Good,” Uhtred rasped, his voice a mix of command and approval as his hands reached up, finding Sihtric’s upper arms. He squeezed them lightly, his fingertips digging into the taut muscle. “You are so good, Sihtric,” he groaned, spreading himself even more open to give Sihtric better access to his pulsing hole, to take him in deeper.

Finan chuckled softly, his teeth grazing the shell of Sihtric’s ear as his hands guided the younger man’s hips in a rhythm that matched his own teasing movements. “Ready for the next step, lad?” he asked, his tone equal parts gentle and wicked. “I think you can take it.”

Sihtric’s breath hitched, his heart racing as he nodded, overwhelmed but unwilling to stop. Finan pressed forward, the thick head of his cock breaching Sihtric’s entrance with a slow, deliberate push. The sensation was sharp at first, but the burn quickly melted into pleasure, coaxed along by the steady reassurance of Finan’s hands on his hips and the whispered words of encouragement in his ear.

“You’re doing so well,” Finan murmured, his voice husky. 

Sihtric cried out softly, his hands gripping Uhtred’s thighs as he tried to steady himself. The fullness of having both of them—Uhtred beneath him wrapped around his cock and Finan behind—was overwhelming in the best way possible. He had never felt so completely surrounded, so entirely claimed, yet so safe.

Uhtred’s hands slid up, brushing over Sihtric’s sides before grabbing his waist, pulling him slightly closer. “Good lad,” Uhtred groaned, his head tipping back as he watched Sihtric’s movements grow more confident. “You’re perfect, Sihtric. Absolutely perfect.”

Finan’s hips began to move in tandem with Sihtric’s, the three of them finding a rhythm that sent shocks of pleasure coursing through their bodies. The room was filled with the sounds of their moans, the rustling of the furs beneath them, and the faint crackle of the firelight casting their intertwined shadows on the walls. 

Sihtric’s pace quickened, his movements growing bolder as he lost himself in the pleasure. Uhtred’s low, guttural moans urged him on, the sound rolling over him like a wave, spurring him on to thrust harder, deeper. Each time he drove into his lord, it was met with a shuddering gasp or a whispered encouragement, Uhtred’s body arching beneath him in pure bliss.

Behind him, Finan’s hands gripped his hips with a steadying strength, guiding his movements and matching them with thrusts of his own. The stretch and fullness as Finan worked him with deliberate precision sent jolts of heat racing through Sihtric’s veins, his body trembling with the intensity of it all. He felt caught between them, utterly surrounded and consumed, yet completely whole.

“Give it to him, lad,” Finan growled, his voice rough with desire. “Show him what you’ve got. Don’t hold back.”

Uhtred’s fingers dug into Sihtric’s waist, his head tipping back onto the furs as his body tensed. “Yes,” Uhtred groaned, his voice thick and breathless. “Just like that. Don’t stop. Don’t—ah—stop.”

Sihtric couldn’t hold back any longer. His rhythm became relentless, each thrust driving him closer to the edge. He felt Finan’s cock stretching and filling him with every movement, while Uhtred’s tight hole pulsed and clenched around him with every thrust, the dual sensations overwhelming him completely. His cries mixed with Uhtred’s, his voice breaking as pleasure overtook him.

It happened all at once. Uhtred’s body arched, his hands gripping Sihtric’s arms with bruising force as he reached his climax, a deep, guttural moan tearing from his throat, cum spurting from his untouched cock and painting his belly white. The sight of his lord lost in pleasure was all it took to push Sihtric over the edge. He buried himself deep one last time, his body trembling violently as his orgasm ripped through him, leaving him gasping and shuddering as he filled Uhtred’s hole with endless ropes of his own seed.

Behind him, Finan’s rhythm faltered, his breathless groans filling the room as he pounded into Sihtric chasing his own release. He pushed deeply into Sihtric one final time. His hands tightened on Sihtric’s hips as he spilled into him with a loud growl, his head falling forward onto Sihtric’s back. 

They stayed like that for a moment, their bodies entwined, trembling and spent. The room slowly quieted, the only sounds remaining the soft crackle of the fire and their laboured breaths. Sihtric slumped forward, his head resting against Uhtred’s chest, while Finan’s arms encircled him from behind, holding him steady. The weight of their bodies pressed together was grounding, comforting, and impossibly intimate.

“You were incredible, lad,” Finan murmured, his lips brushing against Sihtric’s ear.

Uhtred’s hand moved to stroke Sihtric’s hair, his voice soft and full of warmth. “More than that—you were perfect.”

As the aftershocks of pleasure faded, the three of them shifted slowly, their breaths evening out. Finan eased himself back onto the bed, his arms still loosely wrapped around Sihtric’s waist, pulling him down with him. Uhtred moved to Sihtric’s other side, his hand brushing over the young Dane’s hair with quiet affection as they settled into the furs.

Uhtred tugged the thick furs over them, ensuring Sihtric was snugly nestled between him and Finan. The younger man let out a soft sigh, his head resting against Uhtred’s chest, while Finan pressed a gentle kiss to his temple from behind.

“Sleep, lad,” Finan murmured, his voice thick with drowsiness and satisfaction. “You’ve earned it.”

Uhtred’s hand continued to trace soothing patterns over Sihtric’s back, his other arm resting comfortably over both of them. “Rest now,” he said quietly, his tone carrying the same commanding reassurance that had drawn Sihtric to him from the start. “You’re safe. You’re ours.”

Sihtric’s eyelids grew heavier with each passing moment, his body completely at ease between theirs. For the first time in what felt like forever, he felt not just desired but cherished, loved in a way he hadn’t thought possible. A faint, contented smile played on his lips as sleep claimed him, the steady rise and fall of Uhtred and Finan’s breaths lulling him into peaceful oblivion.

[none-ofthisnonsense]

Merlin S2E13, “The Last Dragonlord”

Finale!

Okay so Camelot is under attack. It has been for two nights.

Oh, this is what Merlin foresaw in the crystal…

I like how this is directed. (And am also severely judging the “putting fire on arrows” part of it.)

NO CLEAN WATER? This is a big problem. 

“Clear the square” and Gwen is there…

Is Arthur wounded?

Can the others hear the dragon talk? Because if so Merlin is in severe trouble.

Gaius isn’t dressed like he usually is and it confuses me.

Oh they’re being attacked by a dragon AND they’re at war! Why was this never mentioned before? I thought Cenred was part of the Five Kings?

Arthur will be a better king than his father.

Why would Hunith mention him? Oh wow they have history.

Yes we knew he wasn’t Gaius’ son WHAT THE FUCK BALINOR IS MERLIN’S DAD? MERLIN IS THE SON OF THE LAST DRAGONLORD? WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK

He did have a right to know. He grew up without a dad… even if now he has Gaius.

Huh, it’s pronounced with a soft C? I was pronouncing it as “Kenred”.

I’ve never seen Arthur be more awkward.

Okay that’s not just a scratch.

THEY *ARE* FRIENDS AND I’M SO HAPPY IT’S GETTING SAID AND I’M GOING INSANE.

Okay but Arthur having such fast reflexes and threatening that guy is a good look on him.

Arthur’s wound is much worse than I thought it was.

Is that Balinor? He doesn’t look like what I thought.

Does Balinor know he’s with his son?

It’s nice to know the dragon’s name.

So Balinor did love Hunith.

Merlin you need a hug,

Seeing Camelot’s destruction in silence gives it a whole other dimension.

Gwen, did you really think you could hide it from Gaius? The man holds 90% of all the secrets in Camelot. His adoptive son is a warlock and the son of a Dragonlord, for goodness’ sake, he can definitely keep your secret, Gwen!

It’s nice to see Merlin and Arthur back to their usual banter. Though Merlin still isn’t his usual self. I suppose that’s normal.

Merlin is on the verge of tears.

Ah, yes. The love language of giving firewood. 

Merlin’s pure joy at finally having a father…

HE CARVED HIM A DRAGON TOY

Merlin’s learnt to fight.

BALINOR NO

He’s proud of his son… I’m totally not crying.

Leon never disappoints. (I like Leon.)

Gaius, you need to give Merlin a hug.

If Arthur dies, Merlin is going to lose his father and his best friend (and arguably his soulmate according to what Kilgharrah said) in a very short span of time. I’m not sure he’d recover. (But also I want to read that fic.)

I love this episode. And that scene between Merlin and Arthur in the armoury is great.

It’s amazing how good Colin Morgan’s acting is when speaking what’s, intelligibly, nonsense.

[sebastianswallows]

Feyd-Rautha — sad headcanons

— WARNINGS: angst, mentions of kidnapping, child molestation, mentions of Feyd's child by Margot (Marie Fenring), it's just dark and depressing I'm sorry

— A/N: @localravenclaw asked for headcanons yesterday, here you go girly, no returns. This is a hybrid of book and movie Feyd.

His first memories are of ice floes on the black waters of Lankiveil, fitting together like the blocks inside his puzzle box. The wailing of sea creatures underneath the waves. Enormous weapons mounted on ships leaving harbour. The deep bell chimes that floated on the air, colouring it golden, splitting time in measured pieces like a great grandfather clock, from the temple of Ohashi.

He remembers playing in the sea foam. Duelling his playmates with driftwood they picked up in abandoned ships. Filling the nests of rock turtles with the pearls that rolled up on the shore. There were so many that they spilt between his fingers.

He remembers gathering stiff crystalline flowers which grew on the rock their castle sat on, but not what they were called...

And he remembers making his mother a necklace of blue spiral shells, with the help of her handmaids. He wonders now and then what became of it, and then he stops himself.

Childhood memories are too tainted with what came afterwards. With what cut it in two halves.

With the grim understanding, in hindsight, of what his uncle’s touches meant during his first days on Giedi Prime. Skinny little Feyd. Did your father never feed you? How pretty you are, just as he was as a boy. Did you fall and hurt yourself here? No? Are you sure? I can feel a little dent where one shouldn’t be, yes, yes, right between your bones.

They seemed like comforting caresses at the time.

It was always surface touches on the thin and tender canvas of his skin, dry kisses, fondlings with an almost anatomical curiosity to them, and always with rough laughter resounding in the halls.

Many years passed before he realised, through hints gathered here and there, that his uncle was diseased. Longer still to find out that it was a Bene Gesserit who did it. Sexually transmitted, requiring constant treatment, and the cause of his enormous bloat.

Many pieces fell into place in the puzzle box at the back of his mind then. Why his uncle never showed to him the same sort of close attention he showed to the slave boys. Why it was always those large fingers heavy with rings that traversed his body, and traitorously gentle kisses, and long lingering glances once he let Feyd go.

How strange he felt, after being brought up to hate the Bene Gesserits and fear them, when he became conscious of a sort of gratitude he owed the witch for protecting him, beyond the grave, from the worst of his uncle’s attentions.

He remembers the first time he fell sick on Giedi Prime. It was during his first month there, when his body couldn’t take the toxic fumes and the industrial meat. His body revolted, flushing with an allergic reaction.

And he remembers his uncle’s visits, a few of them. How he slipped his fat hand between his thighs to feel them shivering, sweaty with fever, and laughed. The doctors around his bed laughed too, not daring to do anything else. Even at the age of 11, Feyd thought there was something wrong about it, but he had nobody to turn to, nobody to ask. How stupid he feels now.

And then there was a time, a broad swath of his adolescence, when he was planning quite seriously to kill the Baron.

He had devised a naïve scheme involving one of those awful oil baths and a stone lid, and he allowed himself to fantasize that if some day, for some reason, a Bene Gesserit would come, she could help him gain control of all the slaves through mind tricks, like the witches were rumoured to do. And he could escape with her, hidden in the soft folds of her dress while, in his imagination, the palace was boiling with fear and revolution upon the Baron’s death.

He grew out of these childish fantasies at around age 15. Nobody was coming to help him.

It was then that he started taking the arena more seriously. Killing slaves felt good. Feeling warm blood on his hands felt good. And it felt good to be so close to a human body while someone else suffered. It filled something in him he never knew needed filling.

His first taste of spice was around this time too. His uncle deemed him ready. It tasted like cinnamon, but never the same after that. And the dreams…

The dreams that came true scared him. Fate predetermined, fate out of his reach. His hands around a dozen throats could not make him feel in control after that.

But the other dreams, the ones that never came to be, those took him beyond fear, beyond anger, to a pit inside his soul. Demons swirled around him, teasing, tormenting him with the way his life could never be.

Dreams of impossible futures are the ones he hates the most. Dreams where he is wed to an Atrides bride, where his son sits on the Imperial Throne, where their enemies are humbled, and absolute power brings peace.

Feyd wakes up still on Giedi Prime, still under his uncle’s fat thumb, still with his concubines to pacify him while his true destiny is nowhere in sight. And when he does dream of a Bene Gesserit, she is not there to kill his uncle or to help him escape. She’s there to use him.

And sometimes, Feyd dreams of a little girl with a sweet and simple name, with her hair in dark ringlets, and sullen eyes like his. She runs through blue and silver halls, she plays in a field of flowers, she breathes the salty sea air of a distant planet and meditates upon the cliffs. He dreams of never meeting her, and wakes up wondering why that troubles him so much.

[xoxomoonlightxoxo]

The Girl That Disappeared | Suspect #2 JJK

⇠ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯. | 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐱 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ⇢  

✧ Synopsis: It was a gloomy Friday evening when you felt the mists of melancholy pulse through your veins, aching body floating above the deep water. Squeezing your eyes shut, your lips trembled with fear. You didn’t want to die, but you sure as hell didn’t want to live. Not in this town. Not with the people in it. So, why don’t you just disappear? Leave them to search for the remnants of who you had been before you realised that life is more painful than death. Park Jimin. Kim Taehyung. Jeon Jungkook. Best-friend, step-brother, and an ex-lover. Although their paths had never crossed before that gloomy Friday evening, their names, printed in bold, now remained on the top of the suspect list. Stories entangled in your mystery.

✧ w/c: 6.1k ✧ a/n: a lot is going on here but please let me know what you think, mwuah 💓 ✧ taglist: @kookieandjoonberries @whoa-jo @taevestr @smoljimjim @kookxin

@11thenightwemet11 @xumyboo @kingofbodyrolls @jksusawife

“Y/n-ah! I’m leaving, please turn on the security,” your mother’s voice echoed from the entrance as you heard the front door close. She was working on-call today, and while it seemed like you finally had an opportunity to spend some quality time together, the hospital rang her in for an emergency operation at the last minute. 

“Okay, love you,” you yelled from your room, picking up the laundry off the floor before heading downstairs. No one was home. Mr. Kim had a night shift and wouldn’t be back until later and only God knew where Taehyung was. 

Scrolling through your phone, you smiled at the photos Jimin sent you from his parent’s ranch house. It’s been a week since he left, and you couldn’t help but miss him. The two of you haven’t gone this long without seeing each other, so it felt weird not being able to call him over. 

“Y/n, it’s so nice here, you would’ve loved it,” he smiled through the phone, resting his head on the soft pillow. 

“I bet,” you whined. 

“Next time, you’re coming with me, okay? There’s this waterfall I’ve been dying to show you,” 

“Okay … I missed you Jimin-ah,” your voice broke, glossy eyes looking down at the teddy bear he got for your birthday. 

“Y/n-ie, you know I missed you more,” Jimin moved in closer, placing a kiss on his front camera as you glanced up.

“Now, get some sleep, I’ll talk to you tomorrow, mmhm,”

“Goodnight,” you whispered with a little wave. 

“Sleep tight, angel,” 

He never called after that. All your attempts went straight to voicemail. It was strange, Jimin always valued communication, and never was the type to let you wonder about his whereabouts. Kept you posted even with a little “k”, just to signify that he got the message. But, now, it felt like he was gone. Vanished into thin air, like nothing happened. And, it killed you knowing that you couldn’t do anything about it. 

The clock read 7 am on the dot, which meant that you still had about two hours till the first bell. It was the first day of your period and your cramps were horrendous, to say the least. They’re usually a pain in the ass but never this bad. Looking through the medicine cabinet you rummaged past the bandaids and the gummy vitamins before remembering that Taehyung took the last Ibuprofen for his headache last night. It was ironic how little painkillers you had in the house, knowing that your mom was a doctor. But, it’s because she always preached the importance of letting your body heal naturally. Science could only get you so far, I guess? 

Zipping up your windbreaker, you grabbed your wallet and keys before heading outside to the local grocery store until the sound of a slammed door left you frozen in your tracks. It came from upstairs. Looking up at the dark corridor you turned on the lights, following the breeze seeping through the cracks of your room. 

“Taehyung?” you called, hands hovering over the doorknob. No one answered. Why would they? You were the only one in the house, right? 

“Taehyung, if this is one your stupid jok-” you whispered again before facing the empty room. 

No sight of Taehyung, but your window was open, which explained the door. The only problem was that you didn’t remember opening it in the first place. Nonetheless, you would gladly accept this version of the incident over the possibility of some paranormal activity. One problem at a time, please. 

So, you shut your blinds and went back downstairs to turn off the security system before grabbing your bike from the garage. You didn't have a licence, and only got your learners about a month ago, so if no one was home you had to resort to another form of transportation. 

You didn’t mind biking though. Found it rather therapeutic. Loved the alone time it allowed for without the bombardment of life and its constant obstacles. Just you and your thoughts. And, although there was a bit of a fog, it was clear enough to see where you were going. So, you buckled your helmet and went off on your journey to secure some Ibuprofen. 

Exiting the gated community, you biked through the local primary school, passing by a parking lot of sleep-deprived parents rushing to work after dropping off their little ones. It was getting a bit chilly as the wind picked up, so you stopped to put on some mittens and a hat before glancing back at the rustling sound behind the corner. 

“Hello?” 

Again, no one answered. But, that didn’t stop the chills running down your spine, remembering the incident earlier at home. Looking down at your watch, you gasped at the 20 minutes that had already passed, yet, you were nowhere near the grocery store. So, it was time to focus. 

Biking down the empty road, your eyes were scattered across the painted scenery. The old brick houses and the tall trees. The rusted mailboxes and the garden gnomes. It all felt so nostalgic. So close to your heart, as if tethered by the strings of your past. But, the feeling was short-lived. Consumed by the eerie melancholy inching up your skin as you felt someone's presence behind you. 

This time, you weren’t wrong. Covered from head to toe, it looked like a man. Keeping a civil distance, he followed your turns. Left. Right. Straight. Right. Left. Straight. Coincidence or not, this wasn’t a common path that people took. Not many knew of the shortcut. So, you began to speed up, feeling the adrenaline kick in once he did the same. Now, it was a chase. 

Pushing through the burning pain in your calves you picked up the pace, feet firm on the pedals. He didn't pity your fatigue, only fueled it more by inching closer before the two of you were riding side-by-side. Keeping an eye on his uncanny demeanour, you flinched at the sound of a car horn blast through your trembling state as a white Honda glared past you, pointing at the stop sign. 

“I'm sorry,” you whispered under your breath. 

“You're fast,” the man scoffed, tilting his head with a sly grin. That's all you could see. 

“Who are you?” you yelled, voice trembling in panic. 

“I’ll give you a head start, mmhm?” he sneered, changing the gears on his bike. 

Feeling the tightness in your throat, you were gasping for air, dilated pupils scanning the surroundings for help. Unfortunately, as if praying on your downfall, the street was empty. Not a soul in sight. So, you pressed on the pedals, leaving the man in the dust as you prayed that the next turn led to people. 

Gas station. Bingo. 

Hoping off your bike you bolted towards the door. 

“Hey, hey, hey,” the cashier yelled out, furrowed gaze searching the panic on your face. You could feel the flush rise up your cheeks, but the absence of Mr. X occupied your mind. 

“I’m so sorry,” you mouthed, clearly out of breath before dialling Jimin’s phone number. It was like second nature. You didn’t even realise it until your call went straight to voicemail. 

“Oh, right,” a sigh escaped your lips, remembering that he was still MIA.

Looking through your contacts, there was only one more person you could call. But, the possibility of them actually agreeing to help you was as slim as your waist after all that exercise. Nonetheless, you took a deep breath and pressed the call button. 

“Taehyung?” 

“What do you want, y/n?” he scoffed. 

“Right. So, potentially … if you could … would you mind picking me up from the gas station near River Banks?” you whispered, careful with every word as you anticipated his response. 

“Potentially, screw you. What the fuck did you lose there?” 

“It’s kind of a long story but I do need to be at school in about half an hour,” 

“Can I even say no?”

“Last time I checked it was a free country but a dangerous one at that. So, if I'm kidnapped, my blood is on your hands,” 

“You and that victim mentally of yours go way back, huh?” 

“Please, Taehyung. I’ve never asked you for a favour before,” 

“Fine, give me 10 minutes,” he sighed, ending the call before you could even thank the guy. 

The car ride home was quiet. No radio. Windows rolled up. Silence. 

“So, you’re really not gonna tell me?” Taehyung asked with an arched brow, glancing at your stiff form as the light turned red. 

You’ve never been good at lying. Even if your mouth stayed shut, your face would’ve revealed it all. Essentially, there was no running away from the truth in your case. 

“Well … no one was home and I needed medicine so I decided to bike to the grocery store,” you began explaining, avoiding his eyes. 

“Mmhm,”

“And then …” you paused, hesitating the next part. What if Mr. Kim finds out? What if you were blowing this out of proportion? 

“Y/n. You’re making me angry. Just say it,” he scolded, pressing on the pedal. 

“Sorry. Um, so yeah … I was biking and then out of nowhere this man started following me. So, I tried losing him by taking different turns but … ended up getting lost,” 

“You were followed?” there was a slight change in Taehyung’s voice. Less sarcastic, more intrigued. 

“I guess?” 

“Well, did you see what he looked like?” 

“Not, really. He was covered from head to toe. Except …” you gasped, eyes shut as your brain scavenged through its short-term memory, recalling the moment at the stop sign. 

“Yes?” 

“The side of his mouth was … bruised like he got punched or something?” you leaned back into the seat, fidgeting with your rings while Taehyung merged onto the right lane. He was too focused on the road to hear what you said, but as you glanced at his face your eyes widened, spotting the same purple marks. 

“What?” he growled, furrowed gaze glaring back at your parted lips. 

“Nothing.” you chuckled awkwardly, reaching for the radio before his cold hand touched yours. 

“Look me dead in the eyes and tell me.” he sneered, interlocking his fingers with yours. You’ve known each other for almost a year, yet, your shoulders have never even grazed past each other. So, this was strange, to say the least. 

“Tell you what?” you said hushly, gulping down the nerves as he levelled his face to meet your scattering eyes. 

“That you’re scared,” 

“I’m not,” you scoffed, feeling the flush in your cheeks. 

“Good. Because why the fuck would it be me, you dumbass.” his voice got louder with each word, throwing your hand back before rolling down the windows. Finally. Some fresh air. 

Why would it be him, y/n? You weren’t his favourite but, this was too much. Taehyung was a straightforward person, if he hated you he would say it to your face. So, these mind games were really not his thing. But, then again, what’s up with the bruised lip? 

Fixing your uniform you walked into the brightly lit classroom. First period. Physics. No one was in their seats, let alone bothered by the fact that the teacher was almost 10 minutes late. Placing your books on the desk you looked over at the empty seat beside you. Jimin was still gone. No one has heard from him in weeks. 

Bing Bing

Rampaging through your backpack you searched for your phone. You didn’t have time to properly pack because Taehyung was counting down the minutes before he threatened to drive off, so you just threw everything in hoping to fix it during your free period. Scrolling through the notifications your eyes focused on the text message from an unknown number. 

“I missed you.” you mouthed under your breath.

“Sorry everyone, the meeting took a bit longer,” Mr. Choi chuckled softly, speed-walking into the room before ushering everyone to their seats. 

“I missed you?” you whispered again, eyebrows knitted with confusion. Was it Jimin? Did he change his number? 

“Nonetheless, I am pleased to introduce our new transfer student …” 

You couldn’t recognize the area code, so you tried looking it up on the internet but found nothing useful. Was this some kind of a scam? An innocent prank, maybe? 

“Jeon Jungkook” Mr. Choi’s voice suddenly echoed in your ears making you glance up at the dark-haired boy standing in front of the class. Interestingly, he was already looking at you. Hooded gaze focused on the way your demeanour changed completely. 

“Jungkook, feel free to take any empty seat,” 

Bowing to the man, he did exactly that. Slowly passing by the first three rows before stopping by the seat next to you. Nodding his head, he seemed pleased with the pick. 

“Oh, no sorry, Jungkook-ah, that seat belongs to another student,” Mr. Choi called out with a smile that quickly faded as he watched him sit regardless. 

“There’s plenty of options. I’m sure they’ll find another one,” Jungkook muttered with a sly grin, taking out his books before turning his attention to your widened eyes. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, y/n,” he rasped against your hair, gently tucking it behind your ear to fix the back of your collar. His dark orbs flickered down to your parted lips, sending shivers down your spine.

The first kiss you shared with Jungkook was between your eyes. The way his furrowed gaze softened upon seeing you walk down the wooden stairs of your childhood home, in the lavender dress he bought for your birthday. The way he nervously nibbled on his lip ring before caressing the back of your hand, fingers intertwined with yours. Everything about him was gentle when it came to you. The way his warm embrace moulded into yours, as you grew to share the same breath, the same heartbeat. One singularity in the form of two lovers. 

He filled the void your father left as you failed to please his expectations. The ones only a son could bear. The nights you spent crying in your room, wishing that your mother didn’t have to suffer the humiliation of raising a daughter, Jungkook was there. Like a knight in shining armour, he always saved you. Hoped to give you the future you deserve if you promised to share it with him. The two of you were inseparable. Attached by the hip. 

Until, one day, you weren’t. 

It’s been a week since Jungkook transferred schools. His seat still next to you. Inches away from the past that tethered your souls. You didn’t talk much. Mentally exhausted from the consequences. But, his eyes. They never lied. Sneaking glimpses across the room, watching your every move. He wanted you to give in, to tell him why you left. Help him understand how someone so close could betray his trust, his loyalty, his love. Jungkook didn’t hate you, wouldn’t let anyone get too close, but he was hurt. You could see it in his eyes. The same eyes that onces sparkled under the shimmering lights of the night sky when you shared your first kiss.

Dipping your feet into the pool you wanted to test the water before running through the new drill your coach crafted for the upcoming swim meet. To put it lightly, it was freezing. Goosebumps all over your skin, nipples cut through glass type of freezing. You would think a school with such a budget could afford a heated pool but beggars can’t be choosers. So, you tucked your hair under the swim camp and started on some stretches. 

“One … two … three …” you breathed out, counting the reps before glancing up at the flickering lights. School ended about an hour ago, so the place was pretty empty except for the janitors and a few teachers who stayed back to work on some grading. There was no practice today, but you had a spare key to the pool, so it was just you and the water. 

“Hello?” you called out, covering yourself with the towel. No response. 

“Sorry, this is a closed practice,” you shouted out again, hearing footsteps coming from the changing rooms. 

“Hel-” 

The lights went out. Goosebumps covered your skin, heart beat through the roof. Now what? 

“This isn't funny. Turn the lights back on!”

No one answered, but the footsteps inched closer. You could sense that they were near but it was too dark to make out a figure. Then, he chuckled. Subtle but devious chuckle. Like it was all premeditated. 

“Where is it?” a voice echoed, bouncing off the four walls. It was familiar. 

“Jungkook? Is that you?” you gasped, looking over your shoulder, hands trembling in fear.  

“Where is it, y/n?” his tone was firm. 

“Where's what?” 

“Don't act dumb, love,” he sneered, hands hovering over your waist making you flinch at the sudden feeling. The smell of his vanilla musk lingered in the air as you matched each other’s breathing, skin to skin. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you whispered, chest heaving up from the tension. 

“Where’s my baby?” he rasped against your ear pushing your frail body into the water as his hold around your waist tightened. Eyes squeezed shut, you began to kick him off of you. But he was stronger, assertive, more needy. Gasping for air you felt the water seep into your lungs, nails digging into his skin as a warning to bring you back to the surface.  

However, once you were up, he would have more questions. Questions you didn’t have the heart to answer. But, Jungkook deserved to know the truth, even if it hurt. Because, deep down, your father’s abuse wasn’t the only reason you left. 

You didn’t remember much of that night thanks to the five whiskey shots that pulsed through your veins. Intoxicated your system till you became numb. Unaware of the dangers around you and vulnerable to those with bad intentions. Until it was too late. 

“Stop … please …” you whimpered, flinching at the feeling of his tongue on your breast. Parted lips leaving a trail of wet kisses down your stomach, wrists red from his tight hold as your arms stayed pinned over your head. But your cries for help were as worthless as the consent he never got. 

Until the door slammed open and Jungkook’s irate gaze saw your lifeless body buried under the weight of another man. No amount of restraint could hold him back. He was flammed with rage. 

“Y/n!” Jungkook growled, pushing the guy onto the floor as blood covered his fist. And, as the four walls caved in, your world fell apart. 

But, you could barely open your eyes, let alone get up. Too ashamed to move anyways and the migraine only made it worse. Searching for your top your heart ached with pain once you saw Jungkook’s hollow orbs swelled with tears as he wiped the blood off his face. He looked defeated, almost as unconscious as the man on the floor. Stepping over the body with one hand on his side he whimpered, biting down the pain in his ribs before covering you with his jacket. 

“We have to go.” he muttered, picking you up bridal style. 

“Koo, we can’t just leave him,” you yelled out, worried gaze searching his pale face. 

“It’s nothing fatal, he’ll be fine,” Jungkook scoffed, feeling the tightness in his throat as he glanced down at your saddened eyes.

Tension consumed the air. It was suffocating. 

“Jungkook, please slow down.” you exclaimed, tightening your hold on the seatbelt. And, although his glare was focused on the road, he couldn’t hear you. Too occupied by the burning pit in his stomach. It didn’t take long until the dashboard flashed warning signals as his speed reached 200 km/h. You were virtually flying. Yet, there was no end to his high. 

Reaching for his cold hand you tried to snap him out of it before the car suddenly stopped. 

“Oh, shit!” Jungkook yelled out, protecting you from the impact, as your body swung forward. 

Eyes squeezed shut, your hands trembled in fear. He hit someone. You hit someone. Fidgeting with your seatbelt you desperately tried to get out and help the crouched man on the ground. He wasn’t bleeding but his skin looked burnt. 

“Y/n!” Jungkook jerked you back, tightening his hold on your arm as he pressed on the pedal. 

“What are you doing? We have to go back!” you yelled with a furrowed gaze. 

“Jungkook!” you threw a few hits at his chest, reaching for the steering wheel as the car swerved along the bumpy road. 

“Enough!”

You couldn’t recognize him. He never raised his voice at you. Barely ever argued. But, now, Jungkook felt so distant. So cold. 

“Fine.” you whispered, digging your nails into your palms. It felt like a nightmare that you couldn’t wake up from. Stuck in a maze of despair, robbed of peace and the possibility that it was all in your head. That none of it was real. 

But it was. And, it would only get worse. 

Unlocking his front door, Jungkook stepped aside, letting you go first, hesitant with his touch. Furrowed gaze fixated on the ground, his head hung low, heavy with thoughts. Tucking onto the ankle straps of your heels you hissed out of frustration, vision blurring in and out of focus. 

“I can do it myself.” you scoffed, as he bent down to help. You didn’t mean to sound rude but there’s only so much one can endure before the sun sets. It was exhausting. 

“I know you can but let me,” he muttered softly.

And, for a moment there was silence. No words were exchanged. No one knew what to say. Feared that something else would go wrong. But your eyes, they were screaming. 

“Koo?” you whispered, caressing his cheek as he inched closer, burying his face into the warmth of your palm. 

“Y/n, I’m so sorry,” Jungkook blurted, gripping your dress. 

You weren’t his first love but you were his first love. And, he promised to always keep you safe, fight for the beating of your heart until the air was stripped away from his lungs. But, he failed. 

“I’m sorry for letting you get hurt” his voice was quiet, shaky. Glossy eyes looking up at your trembling lips. 

“Baby, you saved me.” you exclaimed softly, pulling him into your embrace, feeling the tension in his body slowly dissipate. 

“Nothing happened, right?” he whispered into your skin. 

“Nothing,” you said hushly. 

“Promise?” 

“Promise.” 

To be honest, you didn’t remember what happened. Only the scars remained witness, your body painted like a canvas with purple hues of abuse. But, nothing happened, right? 

“How do you know about the baby?” you questioned with an arched brow, trying your best to stay afloat as Jungkook inched closer. 

“Oh, y/n, you always underestimated the power of a small town. News here spreads faster than wildfire.” he grinned, resting his hands on your waist before your back hit the concrete. 

That night, when you layed on his chest and listened to his heartbeat, the puzzle pieces began to come together. Something did happen. Something that didn’t belong to Jungkook. You were raped and on very thin ice with your father who was ready to kick you out of the house if you didn’t oblige his threats. The ones that entailed getting rid of the baby, and clearing up the family name. But, you couldn’t bear to lose someone so close, so innocent. 

So, you didn’t. You hid the pregnancy from everyone. Of course, your mom knew but you didn’t want to risk getting her into trouble with your father, whose behaviour worsened with each fight. Completely unhinged, he couldn’t be stopped.

But, when he slammed you against the kitchen cabinet while you stood in front of your mother’s trembling body you finally felt it. The striking pain in your abdomen that travelled up your pelvis and into your back. The pooling of blood that rolled down your leg, marking your clothes with the loss of your baby. And every day since then, you wondered. Wondered what life would feel like without the constant longing to be whole again. 

“And, hey, thanks for this,” Jungkook teased with a sly wink, parading the dove necklace Mr. Kim gifted you for your graduation. 

“Give it back Jungkook, this isn’t funny.” you snapped, reaching for his hand before his hold on your waist tightened, pulling you in. 

“You stole something from me, now it’s my turn,” he rasped against your ear, nibbling on the soft skin. Inches apart, his heavy gaze flickered down to your lips. 

“Hmm, I haven’t swam in a while but I think I can make the team, right captain?” Jungkook glanced up, searching your furrowed expression. 

Unfortunately, he did make the team. If you couldn’t tell already, he was a crowd favourite. Always managed to get what he wanted, even with minimal effort. Simply put, life just seemed to work out for Jungkook. 

So, when the team went on to win the Nationals your coach decided to splurge and take everyone out for the weekend. Nothing special. Just a trip to the next town over. He rented a bus, but if you had a ride you could just meet everyone there. Sadly, both your mom and Mr. Kim were busy with work and Taehyung closed the door on you when you asked, so that seemed like a hard pass.

“Damn, Mr. Lim couldn't wait till sunrise?” your friend teased as the two of you waited by the school entrance. It was just shy of 7 am, but the sky was grey and foggy. 

“That's what I'm saying. I couldn't even sleep yesterday,” you scoffed, feeling the puffiness around your eyes. Something about the little getaway fueled your nervous system to stay alert the whole night. Was it excitement? Fear?Anxiousness? Only time will tell. 

“It's fine, in about 5 minutes we should already be hitting the road. And, hey, I brought the book you asked for,” she exclaimed, digging through her bag. 

“Nice! Fair warning though, I will be taking my beauty slumber as soon as we get on or else I might just die,” the two of you chuckled before collecting your stuff noticing the bus turn into the school parking lot. 

Heading up the stairs you were welcomed by an older gentleman. 

“Hel-” his words were cut off by the shouting outside. 

“Y/n!” 

“Sorry, could you excuse me for a second?” you giggled awkwardly, turning back to see who was making all that noise.

“Y/n, get in. I'll drive.” Jungkook urged with no hesitation, patting the passenger seat. 

“That's not necessary,” you scoffed, arms crossed over your chest. 

“That wasn't a question.” a sly grin covered his face. 

Parking his Mercedes in front of the bus, you looked back at the old man who was busy checking in the other students to notice Jungkook’s stubborn act. Well, shit. 

“Fine.” you muttered, ushering him to open the trunk.

As promised, you fell asleep almost immediately, suppressing the daunting feeling inside your chest. Jungkook didn’t mind, and kept as quiet as possible, reclining your seat before covering you with his jacket. It was better that the two of you didn’t speak. This gave him the perfect opportunity to look at you without being threatened. 

The drive was supposedly only 4 hours, but the rain lengthened the process. 

“Hhmm?” you flinched from the sound of hail hitting the glass window. 

“Sleep well?” Jungkook whispered, glancing at your drowsy eyes. 

“Yeah,” you muttered, stretching your back. 

“Are you hungry? We will have to stop at a motel, it’s too dangerous to drive.” 

“Alright. Let me just text Yuri then,” you said, unzipping your bag. 

“No need, I already let Mr. Lim know,” he winked, pulling into the parking lot. 

Mother Nature was pissed and decided to take it out on all of us. So, it wasn’t long until the two of you were drenched from head to toe. 

“Quickly, let’s go!” Jungkook exclaimed, grabbing your hand before locking the car. 

The place wasn’t brand new, per se, but it served its purpose. As soon as you walked in, you were welcomed by what could only be described as a parade of taxidermy deer heads mounted onto the wall with a complimentary coffee station by the corner. 

“I'll be right with you!” a female voice echoed from the back room. 

Glancing at the water dripping down your face Jungkook chuckled, pulling you in to wipe the excess with his sleeve. 

“You okay?” he hummed, levelling his head until your eyes met. 

“Cold,” you muttered, nibbling on your lip before turning him back towards the front desk. 

“Right, so sorry for the wait. What can I do for you, dear?” an older woman exclaimed with a soft smile. 

“Oh, no worries at all! We’re just looking for a room for the night,” Jungkook explained, pulling out his wallet. 

“Of course! Are you two a couple by any chance?” she giggled, dimples popping out on both cheeks as your mouth dropped. 

“Oh, n-” you scoffed before his glare pierced through you. 

“Shhh, let her finish, love,” 

“Well, it’s just that Saturdays are usually our couple specials. You get a 30% discount!” she clapped, admiring what you assumed she thought to be the epitome of young love standing in front of her. 

“Lucky us, then,” Jungkook clapped as well, inching your stiff body closer to make it more believable.

“Go us!” you smiled awkwardly, patting his chest before whispering something in his ear. Don’t get too excited. 

Placing a gentle peck on your forehead he grabbed the bags, following the sweet lady towards your room. 

“Alrighty, here it is! If you need anything I’m just a call away.” 

“Thank you!” the two of you said in unison, unlocking the door. 

One bed. 

“So, how is it?” Jungkook asked, laying out his jacket on the cabinet to dry. 

“You’re sleeping on the floor.” a teasing chuckle escaped your parted lips. 

“The rain will stop soon. I doubt we’ll even need the bed,” he said, running his fingers through his hair. 

“What? We wasted all that money for nothing?”  

“Well, first of all, I paid. And, we got a discount, remember?” 

“I'm sorry. I'll pay you back,” your gaze lowered from the sudden guilt, fingers fidgeting with your rings. 

“Are you kidding? I would pay triple to spend more time with you,” his tone was genuine, pupils dilated at your timid state. 

“Jungkook,” you whispered. 

“If only you knew how much I missed it,” he tilted his head back on the wall, nibbling on his lip ring. 

“What?” 

“Hearing you say my name,”

“I thought we hated each other,” you muttered, folding your hands over your chest.

“You did. I just loved the thrill of it,” 

You would be lying if you said that you didn’t miss it too. In hindsight, your feelings were always suppressed but obvious to the naked eye. To his eyes. However, just because you miss something, doesn’t mean you have to go back. Sometimes, the door is better off closed. Hidden deep in your subconscious mind, buried under a pile of broken promises. 

“I’m going to shower.” you blurted in a hurry, walking past him to avoid the thoughts running through your head. 

The water was cold no matter which way the faucet turned, so you had to be quick unless catching hypothermia was on the list of things Mr. Lim wanted you to experience over this trip. If so, then you were ahead of the game. 

Wrapping yourself with a towel you washed off your makeup, combing your hair with a detangling brush before getting startled by the swinging of the door, hitting your side. 

“Hey! I wasn’t done.” 

“Sorry, it’s cold,” Jungkook whined, welcoming himself in. 

“Did you try putting on a shirt?” you scoffed, eyeing his naked chest before his furrowed gaze caught you red-handed. 

“It’s wet, smartass. And, I didn’t want to put new clothes on before showering.” 

“Well, go stand over there and face the wall,”

“Are you shy?” he teased, leaning on the counter. 

“Well, I’m not comfortable.” you hissed, tightening the fabric around your body. 

“I’ve seen you naked plenty of times, y/n,” Jungkook grinned, eyes squeezed shut as if reminiscing the good old days. 

“You don’t have to remind me. I'll be taking that sin to the grave,” 

But it was too late. Lips inches apart, your chest heaved up from the intensity of his heavy gaze, eyeing your form from top to bottom. Tilting your chin with his fingers, he leaned closer. 

“We can’t,” you blurted, hands hovering over his chest. 

“No?” he glanced at your scattering eyes, pressing your palm against his burning skin. 

“What about Soojin?” 

“What about her?” 

“Seems like you guys were hitting it off pretty well,” you hissed, looking past his glare. 

“Meh … not my type,” Jungkook scoffed, eyes flickering down your lips.

“Oh, really?” 

“Why? Was y/n jealous?” he said with a sly grin, tracing his fingers up your thigh. 

“Soojin, is not your type? Ha! Hard to believe when she was all over you a few days ago.” your tone was low, annoyed at the whole thing. You were jealous. Fine. Whatever. Moving right along. 

“Hmm, is that so? Then what does that say about us? If I leave a trail of kisses down your neck, does that mean you're my type?” he whispered in your ear, pulling your body onto the counter before finding himself between your legs. 

“I'm not your type,” you chuckled, ignoring the obvious tension. 

“I could've been a dad by now and you're questioning if you're my type? Really?” Jungkook teased, resting his forehead on yours.  

“Jungkook, the baby wasn’t yours.” you said firmly, palms holding his face to make sure he was paying attention. 

“But, it was yours. And, what’s yours is mine. Isn’t that right?” he winked, fingers intertwined with yours. Then it happened. The long-awaited kiss. And, although you knew this wasn’t the best of your decisions, you didn’t mind revisiting this door, at least for the time being.

Until that night. The night in the forest. When a locked door was the only thing separating you and Jungkook. 

“Call him. Let's see if he actually cares,” you could see the grin smear across the man’s masked face, as your blood-shot eyes swelled with tears. 

Hands tied behind your back, you watched him press the call button, turning the phone towards you before resting his knife right under your chin. 

“Jungkook!” you cried out with a shaky voice.

Ring Ring 

“Oh, shit, where’s my phone,” Jungkook exclaimed, patting his pockets before reaching for the glove compartment. 

“What the fuck?”

His eyes widened. It was you. Rather, snapshots of you. One’s that he had no recollection of taking. But, they looked strange. As if you also weren’t aware of them being captured. 

Call from 647-568-0349. Call from y/n-ie❤️ 

An automated voice broadcasted through the speaker system set up in his garage.

“Y/n?” Jungkook yelled out, bolting towards the locked door. 

“Jungkook … please …” you whimpered, feeling the tip of the knife poke into your skin as your chest heaved up.   

“What the fuck? Why won’t it open?” Jungkook growled, fidgeting with the knob before banging on the wooden door. But, no one was home. 

“Please … please … pick up.”

Running back into his car, he turned on the engine, scattering eyes looking back at the empty driveway until the garage door began closing on its own. 

And within seconds, he was trapped. No way in or out. But, the engine was still on, running inside the confined space. Gaseous fumes slowly intoxicating the air he was forced to breathe. 

“Fucking hell.” Jungkook coughed, covering his mouth with the sleeve of his hoodie. 

“Please …” you kept trying, hoping to hear his sweet voice on the other line. Completely naive to the carbon monoxide that was now spreading through his lungs. 

“Help!” he cried out, feeling the tightness in his throat. 

“Jungk-” you gasped, widened eyes glaring back at the masked man. 

“Tsk … what a shame.” he sneered, ending the call abruptly before piercing through the phone.

“Oh, angel, it’s okay. We can wait if you wish. Hopefully, his lungs don’t collapse,” he rasped against your hair, cold touch sending shivers down your back as you felt your heart sink.

[ellecdc]

I went to get my teeth checked today and kept on thinking abt how Lily would be a great dentist. Gentle hands, nonjudgmental, would be so accommodating to any requests or requirements you have like noise cancelling headphones or something…. And she would be soooo against the trend of recommending treatment purely based on cosmetics rather than need. Like we have doctor Remus how about dentist Lily 😂😂

you know what? this was so cute that I had to write it - also, the conversations between reader and Lily are real-life conversations I've had with dental hygienists so be nice to me, I'm still recovering hahhaah

dentist!Lily Evans x reader who goes for a routine checkup

CW: written with a fem!reader in mind and references to a medieval woman accused of witchcraft but should be gender neutral/no pronouns used otherwise, reader has a brother for plot purposes, reader had braces growing up for plot purposes, reader has a bar on the back of their teeth for plot purposes, also.....reader doesn't floss DON'T JUDGE

You were lying back on the large vinyl-covered dentist chair pondering what exactly it was about dentists that caused so many people anxiety.

This was obviously a distraction, though, as wondering why dentists were so fear-inducing was far more comfortable than thinking about how anxious you felt right now.

You supposed that as a species, humans were wholly dependent on their mouths; it was how they ate, how they emote, a method of air intake, and also how they communicate. For hunter-gatherers, an injury to one's mouth could very well have led to dire consequences.

Of course, something happening to one's mouth wouldn’t necessarily leave them completely helpless in today's day in age with modern medicine.

And though you may not have been a hunter-gatherer, you were also decidedly not a medieval woman accused of witchcraft awaiting your trial by ordeal. But the longer it took Dr. Evans to join you - leaving you ample time to consider the various torture looking devices while reclined on this chair that looked like it could sprout restraints at any moment - the more you began to feel an awful lot like a medieval woman accused of witchcraft awaiting her trial by ordeal. 

The sound of the door clicking shut interrupted your spiralling as you tried to sit up straighter in your chair only to slide back down to your original position. 

But perhaps this wasn’t your trial by ordeal; perhaps they’d already gone ahead and executed you and you were actually sitting in heaven’s dentist office because surely the beautiful woman adorned in scrubs standing before you with long, thick red hair which had been artfully plaited away from her face was an angel? 

You realised belatedly that you’d been sitting there with your mouth agape staring at her instead of confirming your name for her.

“Yes! Yes, erm, sorry.”

But the angel - Dr. Evan’s, she introduced herself as but insisted you just call her Lily - simply waved you off and pulled a stool over to sit beside you. 

“No need to be sorry! Between the constant whirring of machines and my penchant to speak a mile a minute, it can be hard to keep up sometimes. So! You’re here for a routine cleaning?”

You nodded dumbly at her as she pulled a surgical mask up over her mouth and nose, mesmerised by the way it seemed to accentuate the brilliant green of her eyes which only appeared even greener when she smiled at you.

“Alright, well let’s take a peek at what we’re working with here, shall we?” She asked as she encouraged you to lay back after putting a bib on you like some nappy-wearing child.

Oh god; you didn’t know an angel was going to be looking in your mouth! You were expecting some grey-haired bored doctor with a superiority complex; now an angel will know you don’t floss!

“Wait!” You shouted abruptly, startling the angel doctor and encouraging her to put some space between you, though she schooled her expression very quickly. “Okay, listen, I’m sorry. But you see, I had braces as a kid, and they put these bars behind my teeth! You know, to keep them from shifting? And they’re great - so great, no complaints truly; they’ve done their job, see!” You paused to bare your teeth at her like some socially awkward chimpanzee. “No shifting at all. But! But, you see, my teeth are so sodding close together now - again, totally fine! - but between that and the glue and the bar, it’s sodding impossible to floss. Oh shit I just said sodding to a doctor! Oh my god I just said shit! I’m sorry! I just don’t want you to think I’m some plebeian who doesn’t care about dental hygiene because I do! But I honest to god, hand to my heart walked around with a piece of floss stuck between my teeth for three days after I tried last so I just...sorry…”

You fought to catch your breath and it took you possibly too long to realise the angel doctor Lily was laughing at you; the mask impeded the smile but the crinkles in the corners of her emerald eyes and the gentle shaking of her shoulders gave her away. 

“I’m so sorry, I honestly thought you were about to tell me you were going to throw up on me - which would be fine! Worse things have happened quite frankly.” She chuckled as she seemed to relax back into her stool. “Why don’t we take a look?”

Burning with embarrassment, you did as you were told and opened your mouth immediately, wondering if it was at all possible for her to feel your jack-hammer pulse through the barely there fingertips pressed to your jaw as she peered into your mouth. 

“Well honestly, there doesn’t seem to be a lot of build up anyway! I wouldn’t have known you’d not been flossing.”

“Wait, really?” You asked then, causing her to move her gaze from your mouth to your eyes. 

“There’s a little bit of plaque but nothing out of the ordinary! Basically what I would expect to see from someone coming in for a routine check up.” She confirmed before taking one of her torture devices (a dental scraper) to your teeth as you watched her auburn brows cinch closer together. “Your teeth really are close together.” She murmured mostly to herself.

“I wasn’t lying.” You defended quickly, earning you a bright and bubbly laugh from the doctor. 

“Sorry; force of habit. I hear a lot of ‘I absolutely brush my teeth twice a day’ and ‘I floss regularly’ when I can easily see that neither of those things are true.”

After she had explained what she was going to do, you spent the better part of the appointment with her fingers shoved into your mouth. 

“I do not envy your orthodontist; you have a very small mouth.”

You snorted inelegantly at that as she removed her hands from your face. “My brother would disagree.”

You were rewarded with another tinkering laugh as she inspected her cleaning. “Don’t worry about the flossing hun; I’d rather you come in and have me do a cleaning for you than to hurt yourself or damage your teeth trying to floss.”

“I’m not in trouble?”

“Even if I did have the authority to scold you, you would not be in trouble. But I hope to see you in another six to twelve months for another cleaning!” She said as she walked backwards from the room with one last (now maskless) smile in your direction.

Suddenly, dentists didn’t seem so scary, and you found yourself rather looking forward to your next appointment.

[sequinsmile-x]

Retreat

“He has Tommy,” she says, swallowing thickly, her throat stuffed full of everything she couldn’t and wouldn’t say, “He’s not alone.” 

-x-

Hi besties <3

This is for the lovely @dontemilyyyyme, who inspired this fic with her love of the episode Haunted and that Hotchniss scene we all know and love.

It's been a hot minute since I did an episode fic, and this was fun to write.

Please let me know what you think <3

-x-

Warnings: None. Might make your heart hurt.

Words: 3.4k

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

The drive back to his apartment is silent. 

Emily had spent weeks driving him around. At first, it had been for follow-up appointments with his doctor and his physical therapist. She’d sit in the waiting room, a case file open in her lap that she was barely able to pay attention to, wishing more than anything that she could sit by his side, that she had the right to be there with him. The first time she drove him anywhere was when she picked him up from the hospital, her smile kind and her chest aching as he finally gave up on insisting he didn’t need a wheelchair to make it to the car. Emily could still remember the look on his face, something she knew was shame painted across his features as a nurse pushed him towards where she was parked by the front entrance, a bag of his things that she’d brought in for him slung over her shoulder. They hadn’t really spoken about it, and he hadn’t fought her help since his initial attempt to insist he could get home from the hospital by himself, so when it came to him coming back to work it seemed like the natural next step that she’d drive him there too. 

Even during that first journey, they’d spoken. Conversations that got easier over time, everything that was unsaid and hanging in the air around them lighter each time he got in her car, their ability to ignore all the almosts and maybes improving each time. 

This was different. 

She was angry at him for putting himself in danger in a way she wasn’t sure she had a right to be, her hands tight on the steering wheel, her knuckles paperwhite as skin stretched over bone, whilst she desperately tried not to yell at him. All the feelings she’d had for weeks threatening to break free from where she’d buried them. Emotions she refused to name simmering beneath her skin again just like they had when she realised he was missing and found his blood on his living room floor - a vivid bloom she could still see whenever she closed her eyes. 

They’d been dancing on the edge of something more than friends for a while now. They took it in turns leading, pulling the other along until they almost made it to the climax of the dance they’d fallen into, cursed to stop just before by circumstance and interruptions each time. 

It started when he found her after the case with Matthew. She’d been wandering the streets, coldness seeping into her bones, when she heard Aaron’s voice. She was half convinced she was imagining him at first, sure she was in the first stages of hypothermia and her brain was playing tricks on her, and then he was next to her. His hand on her arm, the warmth of his touch through her coat almost as burning as the concern in his eyes. He’d shrugged his coat off, ignoring her instance that he was fine, his kindness falling over her like the snow around them landed on his shoulders. He’d taken her home, put the heater in his car on max, and kept his silence. He’d followed her into her apartment and made her a cup of hot chocolate and something to eat whilst she changed. 

When he tried to leave, his smile kind and as soft as she’d ever seen it, she found herself stopping him before she could think about it, not sure why she wanted him to stay but entirely sure she didn’t want to be alone. She hadn’t told him everything that night, but she’d told him that Matthew had helped her when no one else had, and that she wished she’d been able to do the same for him. He told her that she had helped him, that she’d got him the justice he deserved, and when she looked up from the soup he’d warmed up for her, soup she wasn’t even aware she had in her fridge, the way he was smiling at her made her stomach flip. 

It didn’t take long for her to return the favour. Foyet had appeared in their lives when she was still recovering from Matthew’s loss, and she’d been able to focus on Aaron instead. She watched as he struggled with how everything with Foyet happened, and when she showed up at his door, takeout and alcohol in hand, he told her about the deal he refused to take. How he immediately worried he’d made the wrong decision. She told him in no uncertain terms that he’d made the right call, that he wouldn’t be him if he had taken the deal, and she knew it had comforted him. 

They’d become each other’s confidants. A friendship that was quickly turning into more, a mutual attraction right there between them - a third partner in their friendship that was getting harder to ignore. 

After the case with the anthrax, she kissed him. Her blood still thrumming with all the what could have beens and a recognition that it could have all been over before she even knew what it was like to kiss him. The moment her lips touched his she worried she’d misread everything, his stillness against her heavy and heart shattering. It took him a second to react, the longest second of her life, and then he wrapped his arm around her waist, his other hand on her cheek as he held her in place. 

If it was up to her, she would have pushed him back onto her couch there and then. Let herself get lost in him and let him do the same with her. But he’d stopped her, his hands on her shoulders, his touch gentle but reverent, as he said he wanted to take her on a date first. To talk about where they stood, to know that they were both on the same page. Despite herself, despite the desire for him making her practically vibrate, she’d agreed. Kissed him again, softer this time, as she grumbled he’d better not make her wait too long. 

They’d had to rearrange their date twice. He’d smiled apologetically the second time, his eyes gentle as he pulled her aside, his hand tight around hers as he promised they’d go for dinner when they got back from Canada, a soft kiss pressed against the corner of her mouth, the taste of the promise he’d had to break through no fault of his own still lingering on her lips. 

They hadn’t spoken about it since. Whatever they were about to be, whatever she worried they no longer could be, wasn’t important anymore. Not when he’d been so viciously attacked in his own home. Not when he’d been separated from his son. 

She was grateful that he let her drive him to work and to his appointments. That he let her look after him in the only way she could, her palms always itching to reach out for him, to kiss him in a way she’d only been able to do a handful of times. 

She didn’t want to call it love, even though that’s what she was sure it was, because it felt too soon. Too much.

It felt like it might be the very reason she’d end up with a broken heart. 

When she turns off the engine of her car and opens her door, he tries to argue that she doesn’t have to walk him up, something she shuts down with nothing but a look and a raised eyebrow. She follows him into his apartment and closes the door behind them as he unsets the alarm she’d helped him replace. She presses her lips together when he switches the light on, her attention immediately drawn to the piles of boxes full of what she knows are Foyet’s case files. Everything she can’t feel for him, everything she wants to say but won’t, pools inside her hollow chest, the weight of it almost pulling her under until she hears him speak. 

“You didn’t have to walk me up here you know.” 

She looks over at him and sighs, “I know,” she says, her smile sad and fleeting as their eyes meet. She doesn’t want to leave. Doesn’t want to be alone or for him to be either, so she thinks of something else to say, something that was safe and that wouldn’t bring up everything they’d silently agreed not to talk about. “So do you think Cal’s going to be okay?” 

Aaron sighs and clenches his jaw, his hands in fists at his side to stop himself from reaching out for her at her obvious attempt to keep a conversation going. He wanted her so much, wanted to bask in her comfort, that it felt selfish. Everything had changed when Foyet attacked him except how he felt about her, but he couldn’t drag her into this. Couldn’t pull her into the mess that his life had become and put her in danger. 

He’d never forgive himself if she got hurt because of him. Her blood something he would never be able to wash from his hands. 

“I don’t know,” he says simply, not sure what else he can say, his gaze drifting to the floor between them. 

“He got his answers. Killed the man who haunted him.”

His head snaps up as he looks at her, any pretence that they were talking about anything other than him, than about the two of them, gone as quickly as she’d started it. “Then what else is there?” 

She knows he sees through her, he was one of the few who could, but she doesn’t care. This is the closest they’d come to talking about any of it since he’d been hurt, and she couldn’t bring herself to stop, “The years of torture.” 

The look in her eyes makes him ache, and he turns around for a moment, looks around the apartment he doesn’t feel safe in but feels like he can’t leave, and looks back at her when he gathers himself. “Do you think he’ll get over that?” 

“How could he?” She shrugs, her hands clasped in front of her so she doesn’t reach out for him,    “But at least he doesn’t have to feel like he’s alone anymore.”

“He doesn’t have anyone.” 

Not for the first time, she finds herself considering getting in touch with Clyde. Thinks about breaking years of silence and a promise she’d made herself to put it all behind her in the vague hope that her old boss and friend would be able to help. That his contacts would be able to do more than the FBI could. More than once in the middle of the night when she couldn’t sleep, the other side of her bed achingly empty even though Aaron had never slept there, she’d almost called Clyde. Her thumb lingering over the call button, her focus flicking between the number she didn’t have saved in her phone but knew by heart and her torn-up cuticles. 

“He has Tommy,” she says, swallowing thickly, her throat stuffed full of everything she couldn’t and wouldn’t say, “He’s not alone.” 

They fall into silence, the double meaning of everything they’d said so thick in the air around them his nod is barely discernible. As if he didn’t have the strength to push through it all to simply lift his head. She waits for him to say something, anything, but he doesn’t. She nods and turns to the door, ready to leave, and then he speaks, stopping her in place. 

“Get some sleep.” 

“You too,” she says, reaching for the door, but she stops herself. Unable to carry on. Everything that had been convincing her to give him space ever since he’d been in the hospital no longer making any sense to her. The weight of everything that had and that hadn’t happened between them heavy on her chest as she turns back to look at him, her hand still wrapped around the handle on his front door, “I’ll stay. If you ask me to.” 

The silence that follows her offer is somehow heavier than the last, but she wouldn’t want to take it back even if she could. It’s the most honest she thinks she’s been in a long time, the desire to be near him, even if it wasn’t in the way she wanted to be, stronger than anything else. 

He sucks in a breath and it catches on his ribs, sticks to still fresh scar tissue that would ache if he moved in just the wrong way. He couldn’t deny he wanted her to stay, and he was sure she could read that in his expression, but he couldn’t want it. He’d already lost Jack to his decision, his safety more important than his own desire to have his son near, and he wouldn’t lose her to it too, “Em-”

“I know things have changed, but the way I feel about you hasn’t,” she cuts him off, not sure she wants to hear all the reasons this wasn’t a good idea, not from him. She steps forward, tucking her car keys into her pocket and stops just short of touching him, “And I don’t think the way you feel about me has either.” 

He chokes on a laugh, the thought of how he felt about her changing negatively, as if his feelings could do anything other than grow, almost ridiculous,” “Of course it hasn’t. You’re…of course it hasn’t,” he sobers, his shoulders slumping slightly as he steps towards her, the space between them now non-existent. His hand twitches as his side, and it takes everything in his power to not tuck her hair behind her ear, “I can’t put you in danger.” 

Their embargo on not touching each other comes to a quiet end as she reaches out for him and links their fingers together, her palm pressed against his, his skin just as warm as she remembered. “I’m a big girl. I can handle myself,” she tilts her head, her teeth sinking into her lower lip as her eyes meet his. “I want to be here for you. I want you.” 

“I want you too.”

His admission escapes before he means it to, something he can’t hold back anymore. Weeks of having her within arms length, her not subtle but gentle care a comforting blanket he wasn’t sure he could have lived without. She smiles at him and leans in, stamping her lips against his cheek, his breath caught between them as she pulls back, her smile soft with a teasing edge to it. 

“You have to ask me,” she says softly, needing to hear from him that he wanted her to stay, not sure she could cope if she felt like she’d inserted herself into his life when he didn’t want her there. 

He closes his eyes and rests his forehead against hers, taking a moment to breathe her in, “Will you stay?” 

She considers joking. Considers flashing a wry smile as she pretends she can’t, but she knows now isn’t the time. That he needs sincerity and all the care he’ll allow her to give him, “Of course I can,” she kisses his cheek again, “I’ll get my bag from my car.” 

“I’ll come with you.”

She smiles as she pulls back and she nods. She doesn’t tell him that she can do it herself, because she knows this is more about him than her. His silent uncertainty about being alone after a case that had hit a little too close to home. They walk out to her car hand in hand to get her bag, and when they walk back over the threshold of his apartment it feels like everything and nothing has changed since they did the very same thing just a few minutes ago. 

“Are you hungry?” He asks, hesitant to let go of her hand as he locks the door behind them, the first step towards something new between them finalised when the lock clicks into place. 

She shakes her head, “I’m not. I think I just need to sleep.” 

“Me too,” he says, squeezing her hand, “You can get changed in the bathroom.” 

Emily nods and steps towards the bathroom, smiling when he doesn’t let go of her hand, and she closes the gap between them again. She kisses him properly this time, her lips briefly pressed against his before she pulls back. 

“You can let go of my hand,” she cups his cheek with her spare hand, “I’m not going to change my mind.” The look in his eyes, a kind of vulnerability she’d only seen once before when he first woke up in the hospital, hollows out her chest. It makes words she knows it would too soon for in normal circumstances try and climb up her throat. She swallows them down and strokes his jaw, “I’ll be here for you as long as you need me to be.” 

He nods and squeezes her hand before he lets go, “I’ll see you in a few minutes.” 

She makes quick work of getting changed into her pjyamas - an old Yale t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants - and she takes her make-up off, only thinking about the fact this would be the first time he saw her without it once the deed was done. She seeks him out the moment she steps out of the bathroom, finds him in his bedroom dressed in an old Harvard t-shirt and grey sweatpants that make her cheeks feel warm. 

She’d always found him attractive, even when she didn’t like him all that much. Before they started the slow walk to whatever this was, she always wondered if they’d eventually sleep together. She pictured it differently. She thought they’d yell at each other over something and fuck on his desk or in a hotel room somewhere. She never pictured this. The two of them standing a few feet apart in his bedroom, dressed in almost matching pjyamas, ready to sleep next to each other in the literal sense, another small step towards what she thinks might be their forever. 

“You can sleep in Jack’s room if you like,” he offers, his hands stuffed into his pockets, “If you don’t mind Captain America sheets.” 

She shakes her head and steps towards him, linking their fingers together again as she smiles softly, “As much as I’m sure his bed is comfortable,” she says, a smile flickering across her face, “I’m sure yours is comfier.” 

It makes him smile despite everything. The gap in his heart his son had left behind. The worry he had that he’d never get him back. The feeling he couldn’t shift that he was putting Emily in a situation he shouldn’t be. He finds himself wishing he’d let her talk him into going further than just kissing that first night, that he had given himself the chance to know her, to let her know him, before his body was changed beyond his own recognition. 

At least he’d have known then what it was like to love her like he did without the guilt that forever chased it now.

“Left or right?” He asks, and she smiles, her hand squeezing his. 

“Right.” 

They climb into bed, each laying on their respective sides before he makes the first move this time, shifting towards her until their sides touch. She shifts onto her side and moves towards him, his arm hooking around her as she rests her head on his shoulder. There was so much both of them wanted to say and so much that they couldn’t. So they lay there, slowly but surely tangling themselves around each other like vines. Wordlessly wrapping themselves together, a kind of connection rooted in their understanding of each other and what they both wanted next.  

“God, you’re like a furnace,” she says eventually, smiling when he chuckles, the vibration of it passing from his chest to hers as he pulls the covers over them both, “I could get used to this.”  

He kisses the top of her head, and hopes that she understands everything he presses into it. That she feels the love he cannot put into words yet passing from his skin into hers. 

“I could get used to it too.” 

[wandixx]

Justice League never helped Amity Park.

Why?

They genuinely didn't need any help, it was one of the most normal and safe town in America.

Other than Jack Fenton on the road hazard but it's not like he can break walls with his orange jeep, is it? It's too little to get JL on it.

Okay, so what does Phantom do right outside of the Watchtower drinking Capri sun? Is it related to how horrified Flash is, running around meeting room like he tries to wear down the floor?

Why yes, absolutely. You see dear traveler, Ghost child is just not from this timeline.

He is from the other one. The intense one. The one, where Amazonians were at war with Atlanteans, where there was no line Batman wouldn't cross, where doctors Fenton didn't stop their research after their dearest friend had accident.

Yeah, that's the one. One that Barry created by saving his mother and the one he allegedly destroyed.

How do they tell the stressed ghost child that timeline he lived in ceased to exist?

*~*~*

Maybe I'm not clear enough but yeah. Phantom is from other timeline but as I heard, Dan shoved time medalion into Danny's chest so now our boi has wonky relationship with time. When Barry erased "wrong timeline", Danny got yote into his time and was confused. Like, one day he wakes up in the middle of the nowhere because of some shit and isn't even surprised at first but then realises something is off. Especially when he gets to the nearest town. Things are all sorts of wrong, like:

There is less ambient ectoplasm in the air.

Meme references are just not right.

There is no supernatural war.

Nobody is trying to post mortem murder him for being a ghost.

There are a lot more heroes and the ones he knew are different, like, why is Batman suddenly so much against killing?

So he goes of to find Amity and see which one's of the ghosts bullshit he has to clean up this time, only to see his city... Normal? Happy even? No broken pavements or anti ghost tech? No teenage stans? No alive food? His parents are more of the local handymen than mad scientists?! There is SECOND HIM, who isn't a ghost in the slightest?!

WHAT THE FUCK JUST HAPPENED AND HOW DOES HE FIX IT?!

Because yeah, this world seems nicer than real one, but he just can't stay here. Ghosts are probably wrecking havoc in his Amity again and he needs to get back now.

Just question is how, because it starts to look like whole new world and not some weird hallucination or Desiree doing her shit again. However so much things is similar that he assumes it's different timeline. He dealt with these before, once, but he managed. He just needed to find this Clockwork guy that showed up last time and learn what he has to do to fix it.

Wait, his parents here didn't made portal and Vlad didn't either because they're actually kind of trisome (ew) and he didn't have enough time. That's alright, Danny was raised in the shadow of the portal, he knew everything about it by heart. He could built it on his own.

Wait, portal needs and sacrifice. Can he use this world's himself as a sacrifice? He could probably ask these heroes for help but on the other hand he really doesn't want to do this to him. Being Phantom majorly sucks ass and he is jealous but he knows better than to destroy other his life over it.

Before he can resolve his dilemma, something he does pings Justice League's radar and Flash is send to investigate. Thank ancients it's him because allegedly other heroes wouldn't really get it. But it was Flash who somehow gets at least part of it, gives him a food and takes him to the space station (in space!). Now they have meeting about him and he has best view of stars he could ever imagine. Even though they're a little different than he remembers from back home.

.

Hope you enjoyed this little idea and maybe can add to the shenanigans. Comments and reblogs are whole yours.

I hope I'm englishing correctly and won't see too many spelling or grammatical mistakes when I wake up in the morning

Have a great whatever part of day it is to you

[unknownfacelessfanfictions]

Living Sanctuary

Hemmer x fem!reader (can be read as romantic, however is more platonic with developing feelings) Words: 2.3K Summary: She never really learned anything about his home. Until one day she did Inspired by this post from @nichestartrekkie0-0 (If fanfics not your thing, just ignore this :)) so please chek out their art it's AMAZING

A drop of sweat ran down her forehead, down her temple, down her cheek and was wiped aside by her sleeve before it could fall to the floor.

Her arms felt heavy, but she didn't dare move them for fear that the objects in them would fall to the ground and shatter. Something she could not afford, after all, Hemmer needed these things. At least she was certain there was no harm in them.

The cooling system was offline and no matter how hard the engineers tried, it wasn't getting any better. In the end, it had turned out to be a fault in the system, which could be rectified by a simple reboot.

The problem: this reboot took several hours.

Hours in which the Enterprise had become uncomfortably warm, at least by her standards. She knew from Spock that he enjoyed the temperature and Uhura also had few problems with the change.

However, apart from the fact that everyone felt temperatures differently, she knew that there was one person who would not like it at all: Hemmer.

Based on what she had heard from some of the junior engineers, Hemmer was in an even worse mood than usual, and the temperature was so bad that M'Benga had sent him to his quarters to rest for fear that the Aenar would suffer heat exhaustion. Something that would be even more fatal for Hemmer's species than for her own. M'Benga had eventually interrupted her, lying panting on the sofa, and asked her to check on the Aenar. After all, they both knew how incredibly stubborn their friend could be.

She had agreed without hesitation. Hemmer might have his rough edges, some of them deadly sharp, but he had a heart of gold and she cared for him deeply.

He was a good friend on whom she had always been able to rely, so she would not let him down now. Even if he was still unaware of his luck.

With her elbow, she managed to press the button next to his door, alerting him that someone wanted to come in. For a few moments she stood in the corridor, people walking past her and looking at her strangely, wondering if he was even there. Perhaps he had thrown caution to the wind and gone back to work?

She immediately shook her head and dismissed the idea. Hemmer might be stubborn from time to time and not listen to advice, and when he did he did so reluctantly, but he was not self-destructive.

If Doctor M'Benga told him that the work posed a risk to his health, he would follow the doctor's instructions, grumpily, but he would do it.

Hemmer didn't give her much time to think about it. The doors opened and she quickly entered to avoid standing around stupidly in the corridor any longer. Inside it was only slightly less stiflingly hot than outside, but it wasn't any hotter either, which she saw as a plus.

She looked around searchingly, but couldn't spot the engineer. "Hemmer?" Carefully setting the items down on the sofa, she decided to take off her uniform jacket.

The top underneath would have to do, otherwise she would suffer from heat exhaustion. "Are you all right? Where are you?"

There was silence for a while and she began to wonder whether the door had opened by chance and he was actually somewhere else, but at that moment Hemmer's muffled voice rang out. "I'm fine."

She wheeled round to the bathroom where his voice had come from and only now did she realise the faint sound of falling water. Of course, she silently scolded herself. When the air was too hot, water was an excellent way to cool off.

With long strides, she walked to the door and stopped so that the opening sensor could not detect her. "May I come in?"

A grunt sounded and she frowned worriedly when an approving grumble came from Hemmer.

"M'Benga asked me to come round," she explained as she stepped into the bathroom. "Besides, I was worried about you, I mean, I'm almost dying in these temperatures, I can hardly imagine that it's pleasant for-" As soon as her gaze fell on Hemmer, she faltered and stopped, stunned by the sight before her.

Hemmer seemed to have noticed, as she fell silence surprised and huffed.

"I know I know, I look like a drowned beaver, or whatever you humans call it. But it's the only way to survive this heat."

She broke out of her stupor long enough to lift the corners of her mouth in slight amusement. "It's 'you look like a drowned rat'. And, that's not what caught me by surprise."

Even if this was of course partly to blame for her sudden hesitation, after all she had never seen her friend in such a position before. He sat on the floor of the shower, clever idea the tiles were also cold, and let the cool water run down his body. Consequently, his hair clung to his face in lengthy strands, while his antennae swayed in a dance-like manner, evading the droplets in a game known only to them. But as already mentioned, it wasn't that which had left her speechless.

It was the sight of Hemmer clad in nothing more than shorts, snugly embracing his well-defined muscles, stretching just halfway up his thighs, which intensified her warmth.

This alone would have been enough to induce a blush, but something else caught her off guard. The tattoos.

Dark blue, almost black, tattoos meandered in wavy patterns across his physique, from his chest to his shoulders to his arms, down to his legs and, she surmised, down to his back. They reminded her somewhat of the traditional tattoos of the Maori or the Polynesians, indigenous peoples of Earth, but at the same time they looked completely different, like two worlds at opposite ends of the galaxy.

Hemmer cleared his throat, apparently waiting for an answer, and she squatted down in front of him to be at eye level with him. It may not have done him much good, but she felt more comfortable not having to stare down at him. "Don't take offence, but I didn't expect to find my best friend naked in his shower."

"I'm not naked," he grumbled and she grinned slightly as he tugged at his trousers like a grumpy child. "Besides, I didn't realise you had tattoos." His antennae went up for a moment before returning to their dance and Hemmer frowned. "No? I thought you knew." She laughed softly as she watched drops of water drip down his cheekbones. "How was I supposed to know? It's not like you're regularly parading around half-naked in front of me."

"Do I hear disappointment?" His voice and his grin were provocative, teasing and elicited a laugh from her. "Definitely not." Still, she couldn't ignore the tingling in her stomach, even if she tried her best.

They were silent for a few moments before Hemmer sighed and gestured for her to come closer. "I can feel the heat radiating off you. What's the point of you falling over on me here?" He did his best to sound disinterested, but she knew him well enough to know that he was genuinely worried about her.

She hesitated for a moment, but decided that modesty really wasn't appropriate at this point, and kicked off her trousers and socks so that she was squatting in front of him in her top and panties. No problem, she thought to herself and shifted her weight onto her knees.

She crawled over to him and let out a low cry of shock as the cold water hit her heated skin. It felt like tiny needles were piercing her skin and she pulled back, however Hemmer didn't seem to let that happen.

He grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her towards him with such force that she bounced against him and only prevented him from headbutting her by resting her hands on his chest. Not that she would have done anything to him.

She would have been the one with the concussion.

The cold water beat down on her mercilessly. She squealed and wriggled on Hemmer's lap, only realising later that she had landed there, but he didn't allow her to escape.

"You're burning up," he murmured and pulled her a little closer to him so that her hot skin was pressed against his pleasantly cool skin. "So stop squirming or I'll tie you up."

"Kinky," she murmured as her body seemed to slowly acclimatise to the difference in temperature. "Keep it down," came the reply and she grinned softly, slowly relaxing. The water felt good.

Gradually, she felt the feeling of stifling warmth disappear and her glowing skin lowered to temperatures that seemed more bearable, judging by the fact that Hemmer was now relaxing beneath her as well, even leaning into her touch.

"Aren't I too warm for you?" He just shook his head before leaning it against the tiled wall behind him, a slight smile on his face. "It's acceptable. Besides, I know my skin is cool enough to give you relief." She snorted at his posturing, but made no move to free herself from her place on his lap.

"Actually, I came to help you with that." He chuckled softly. It was a sound that came from deep in his chest, where she was still resting her hands, deep and real, and she felt warmth spreading through her again, but this time a different kind of warmth.

"I'm used to getting used to this kind of heat. Have you ever been to California? It was just as bad." She nodded, giving in to exhaustion after a while and leaning her head against his shoulder. "You are indeed nice and cool."

Her hands wandered from his chest to his arms when something struck her and made her lift her head. "Wait, are your tattoos prominent?"

Her fingers danced over the patterns of his tattoos, eliciting a shudder from him that she didn't realise, and sure enough, she could tell that the tattoos weren't just ink poked under the skin, but actually stood out with slight bulges.

They were barely noticeable unless you were sitting half-naked on top of each other, though she guessed it was a lot easier for the heightened senses of the Aenar to detect.

"It would be strange any other way," Hemmer returned with amusement, placing a hand on hers and running it along his collarbone. "Considering we Aenar are blind." Heat rose to her face. She had actually forgotten for a moment that Hemmer himself was blind.

" They're beautiful," she murmured softly, fascinated as she continued to run her fingers tentatively over the patterns of his skin. "You are beautiful." Hemmer left it uncommented, but closed his eyes and his antennae followed her movements.

"Do they mean anything?" He nodded slightly and guided her hand to his upper right arm, where a ring wrapped around his bicep. "Every male Aenar gets a tattoo like this when he comes of age. It's a symbol that we're old enough to serve our people and contribute."

Next, he went to some lines that snaked down his neck to his shoulder blades. To reach them, she had to lean so close to him that his hot breath brushed her face. "These lines symbolise my connection to my family. Can you feel the corners where they end?" She breathed in agreement. "Each of those corners represents a member of my family." There were five in total.

Next, their hands travelled together to his thighs. "These tattoos symbolise the balance of our society, our harmony with nature. The Aenar must live in tune with their environment and learn to live with it to prevent the deadly cold from overtaking them. They humble us, in a good way, and remind us of our place in this world, this universe."

Finally, Hemmer brought her hand to his chest, where the lines formed an intricate pattern that she could not describe in words. "These represent my devotion to healing, to repairing. They are not mandatory among the Aenar, but this pattern represents our pacifist representations. They visualise my duty, my morals, my life."

He did not guide her hand further, but did not release it, so that her hands, covered by his, rested on his chest. Her gaze fell on his left forearm, which was the only part of his body, with the exception of his face, that was completely free.

"And what about here? Is there a reason why there are no tattoos here? Or is it some kind of cultural ban on having them there?" Hemmer shook his head, chuckling softly, and carefully clasped his hands with hers, causing her breath to hitch.

"It's not a cultural taboo to have tattoos there, quite the opposite. The tattoos there represent the family you have established. After the wedding, a band of blue colour is applied below the elbow, decorated with small ornaments. For each child born from this marriage, another band is added."

Fascinated, she looked at his arm and, releasing her left hand from his, ran it over his skin, where a marriage bond would probably be visible in the future. "And what if you get divorced? Are these tattoos reversible?"

 "No." Hemmer took her hand in his again and traced invisible patterns on the back of her hand. "However, divorces are very, very rare for us. We choose our partners with great care, nothing less than perfect comes into question."

She slowly raised her eyes and released her hands to continue tracing the patterns on his skin. "So, has anyone caught your eye yet?"

A hint of a smile appeared on his lips and he carefully lifted his hand to brush a wet strand of hair that was stuck to her face behind her ear, where it remained against her cheek.  "Maybe."

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

@bigblissandlove1

@akamitrani

@moonlightshaiku

@indignantlemur

[eleni-cherie]

a thief's origin✨ || bts • kth - chapter 0.8

"you're afraid I won't wait." "I'm afraid you will."

a criminal and a doctor should be as different as the sun and the moon - but unexpected things happened every day. like him finding his safe haven in her.

© 2024 | eleni_cherie

»»»

masterlist: here

— genre: thief au, gangster comedy, adventure, romcom, humour, angst, fluff, sexual tensiON, slowburn, mutual pining, strangers to friends to lovers s2f2l

ALTERNATIVE UNIVERSE. CHARACTERS NOT NECESSARILY LIKE THE REAL PERSONS. ALSO VERY UNREALISTIC PLOT LOL - JUST PRETEND READING A MANGA/COMIC OR WATCHING A FILM, REALLY.

SUGGESTIVE THEMES. MENTIONS OF VIOLENCE & BLOOD (BUT NOTHING TOO GRAPHIC, IT'S STILL A COMEDY!)

»»»

22nd February

Hanoi, Vietnam

"I might've found us a new job."

Curiously they looked at Jimin who had just entered and waved an envelope in his hands with a mischievious grin.

"Hard pass," Yoongi only countered, going back to grinding his sword, "Forgot I'll be gone for the next month?"

Jimin's smile faded, replaced by a musing expression. "Ah, right.. there was something.. So you really just gonna leave to meditate for a whole month? That wasn't a joke?"

Shaking his head, the older one offered him a small apologetic fold of his lips.

With a deep sigh, Jimin's hopeful glance was directed now at Taehyung, who only blinked back, with a lost expression in his brown eyes wide as he hadn't paid attention. Too occupied by the game he was playing on his phone. "Huh?"

Rolling his eyes, Jimin walked over to him. Holding the envelope right in front of his eyes and blocking his view on the display. It seemed like he had to spell it out for him. "Are-you-in-for-the-job?"

Annoyed, Taehyung shoved his hand away. "Depends," he shrugged then, going back to his mobile game, "What, where and when?"

"This." 

He opened the envelope, sliding a photo out to wiggle in front of him. It showed a dragon made of jade. "Location: Montreal. The 'when' depends on how fast we'll work out a plan. Now that we're only gonna be à deux." Jimin couldn't miss side-eyeing Yoongi who only ignored him, pretending being oblivious to his scowl. He turned to Taehyung again, facing him with an innocent smirk then. "Unless of course we'd find a third person."

"And who would t-" before he could even finish his own question, Taehyung cut himself off when recalling Jimin could only head into one specific derection. Arabella. So he immediately shook his head. "No."

"Aw, c'mon."

"Jimin, no. Absolutely not."

Jimin began whining, scooting to him and falling to his knee, begging. "C'mon, Tae. Why not? She could -" 

"Nope."

Yoongi's sudden burst of laughter startled them and they looked at him confused. He only shot them a gummy grin. "Seriously, Jimin, you expect us to trust her for a job again after Cairo?" Taehyung nodded vigoriously, obviously agreeing with his older friend. And Jimin had to realise reaching a dead-end. Disappointedly, he got up and brushed off dust from his pants. 

"Fine, then I won't ask Bella for help and it's only gonna be the two of us. But I better not hear any complains about difficulties."

Taehyung folded his arms, his videogame laying forgotten on his lap. "Who says she'd even help us anyway?"

"She surely would have if I asked her nicely." And if he promised her shiny diamonds. 

However, seeing the steadfast glare in Taehyung's eyes, he admitted defeat.

Feeling the urgent need for a whiff of fresh ear and also annoyed with his friends, he stepped out into the balcony. The mild evening atmosphere greeting him.

He propped his hands on the railing and stared out when soon sensing Taehyung beside him.

They both remained silent for awhile, just staring over the sea of cement with specks of green in between.

It had rained not too long ago, evident by the puddles on the shiny asphalt and the smell of humidity in the air. It was almost March, but spring was still far away.

"Why.. why are you so into Arabella?"

Jimin dragged out a breath, getting slowly fed up with the same sarcastic comments and rhetoric questions about his, admittedly, weakness for the female spy and thief.

With a small groan, he threw his head back. "I get it, you guys don't like her and I understand why. I really do. But it's seriously getti-"

"No," Taehyung interrupted his rant with a quick shake of his head, "I mean it. How.. how are you so sure.. it's her? I get that she's all 'dangerous and hot' or whatever your reasons were but.. There has to be more, right? You're not constantly making a fool of yourself only 'cause she's hot." At least he hoped so.

Not having expected his friend to be genuinely curious about the relationship between him and Arabella, his lips parted taken aback. "Well.." Jimin slowly began then, glancing at him cautiously as his random, yet genuine sounding question triggered suspicion in him. 

His glance returned to the city then, trying to comprise in sentences the complicated emotions he felt for the mischievous woman. "She's more than just a gorgeous and intriguing woman who keeps me busy, you know." Taehyung noticed the fond smile in Jimin's eyes. Making him almost gag, but he successfully contained it and allowed him to continue. "Me and her.. we got history you don't know of. She's more than her habit of outwitting us."

"Oh, is she?" It was kind of hard to believe. Then again, he tried spending as little time as possible with her and only if absolutely necessary. Simply not trusting her an inch.

Jimin chucked at his disbelief and nodded. "Yeah. I know, hard to believe."

"A little bit."

Again, he understood where his friends' mistrust came from. He paused for dramatic effect as he glanced at Taehyung who was mindlessly resting his chin on the palm of his hand. Only to get impetiend and arch an inquiring brow at him.

"It's true though. Because at the end of the day, she's the only woman I trust and I can be myself with. She takes me for who I am. And when it's only the two of us, I can see the real Bella. The one no one but me knows. And that's why I love her."

"Even after Cairo?"

He grinned. "Maybe I don't trust her with the loot, but with my life. And isn't that more important? That's why I forgive her and let her get away with her stunts. It's nothing but a game between us. Don't forget, I'm also often the one tricking her."

He winked and Taehyung knew what he was referring to. 

It was true. There were times Jimin was the one fooling her, leaving Arabella handling interpol or without the jewels. It was indeed just a game between the two. A game only Jimin and Arabella understood and enjoyed and perhaps that was the secret to it all. Perhaps outsiders like Taehyung and Yoongi weren't supposed to understand it in the first place.

Taehyung only hummed and went silently back to staring out. Unable to contain his inner turmoil as his gaze became dull. Blankly staring into the cold grey.

If put like that, he understood it. He couldn't even nearly fathom how this was possible or applied to a person like Arabella Valentine, but he could at least comprehend a little more how his partner could be so in love with her.

"Say," Jimin said then, leaning at the railing with an intrigued smile, "How comes you're suddenly so invested in my love life? It doesn't happen to have anything to do with you and your doctor friend, does it?" He wiggled his brows and nudged his shoulder, interrupting Taehyung's train of thoughts.

The taller guy swallowed, avoiding his smug, knowing glance. He'd seen right through him, like he always did. Perhaps this time hadn't been so hard to do and yet, it bothered him how in front of Jimin, he'd be an open book just like everyone else.

"Perhaps."

"Ah!" Jimin felt like a lightbulb appearing above him, finally putting one and one together. And he fashed a lopsided smirk to his childhood friend. "So that's why you've been moping around for two months now."

The only response those accusations earned was a click from Taehyung's tongue and a scowl. Causing Jimin to dramatically sigh, averting his eyes from him since he knew very well he wouldn't get Taehyung to talk if he didn't want to. So he pushed himself off the railing instead.

"Perhaps it's hard to look past Bella's imperfections," he began than with a musing glance as he let his gaze wander over the concrete, "But at the end of the day, we all just want someone who knocks our breath away, don't we? Someone who understands and takes us for who we are. Someone we'd fight for. So if you ever find someone like this, consider yourself lucky. These people are rare." With a bright smile, he patted his sulky friend's shoulder and Taehyung coughed out by the sudden hit. 

He went back to observing the glistering streets then.

Jimin had a point, he supposed. People like these were indeed rare. At least he hadn't crossed paths with any or perhaps he'd never bothered paying much attention to any contrary to his friend who'd never say no to a pretty woman.

Until now, it seemed.

Because his guilt-ridden dreams and thoughts revolved around one person and one person only the past two months. And the kind of smile of hers he thought only he ever received and no one else. A withering look full of the sort of subtext someone could only get from a lot of conversations whispered after dark. Like the ones they always shared.

Sirens erupted suddenly and interrupted his wandering thoughts. Several black cars coming into view and parking in front of the building then, blocking the exit, Shortly after a familiar figure exiting one of them.

"Yah, Park Jimin! Long time no see!" Seokjin was waving at them with a triumphant grin when spotting them up there at the balcony of the third floor. His open palm closing then, with a pointing index finger directed at them. "Don't you dare move from there!"

Jimin laughed under his breath. "Of course, who else," he muttered before leaning over the railing then to yell back with more energy, "Never! You know how much I missed your handsome face!"

Taehyung couldn't help but stifle a laugh before glancing over his shoulder to see Yoongi having joined them to check out what all the ruckus was about.

"Pack your sword, Yoongs, pops is here. "

»»»

4th April

Barcelona, Spain

Cassandra was uncertain whether she liked birthdays or not. At this point, they were overrated anyway. She couldn't remember the last one she'd got to properly celebrate. It was probably in high school but her memory fadedthe more she tried to go back to the past.

It was the dawn of her 27th birthday and she didn't know how to feel or what to expect, besides calls and messages from relatives and friends. She was glad her parents couldn't visit her this time as they were currently somewhere in Central America, so she at least could save herself from another round of staged photos in front of a birthday cake for her mother's sake.

Once someone told her that birthdays and weddings were rather for the family than the actual celebrated person and there was some truth to it. You did it more for the people you loved, to make them happy by letting them celebrate you. This year, however, she wouldn't have been able to bring herself from going through this. Not even for her mother who she loved dearly.

"Stella, where are you? I brought the glucometer you requested for the patient," she called out at her colleague and friend. Frowning at the unusual darkness in the staffroom, she flipped on the light switch. Only to be greeted with loud cheers and applause. "What-"

"Happy birthday!"

Utterly perplexed, she took a step back and blinked. She never expected anyone to care enough to organise a small surprise party and even holding a cake with candles which they were now hurriedly lighting up so she could blow them.

Cassandra wasn't particularly close friends with most people there. She got along with everyone though - save for Pavlo the jerk - and was friends with Stella and maybe three other assistant doctors. She also joked with some of the nurses. This was her circle of friends there. A small but good one. So seeing those very same people now beaming at her while holding the cake close to her face and singing the birthday-song, was quite unexpected. And moving.

With an uncertain smile, she clapped along with them. Appreciating the gesture. It meant that perhaps she did belong somewhere after all. Or that her presence mattered in some way. Taking a deep breath then, she finally blew out the melting candles.

"Did you make a wish?" Stella, the one she'd describe as the closest one of her work-buddies, asked then as the rest hurried to cut the cake.

"Sure," she lied. Her artificial smile fading as soon as her colleague's attention turned to the cake.

What point was there to make a wish if she couldn't have the one thing she truly wanted.

Him.

Her night-shift ended a few hours later at 6am. Besides the small birthday gathering thankfully nothing else unexpected happened. Especially not with any of her patients.

Tired, both physically and mentally, she returned home. Trying her hardest to prevent her eyes from going to the space on the wall where the numerous postcards from around the world were hanging on strings. Mockingly staring at her while depicting far-away places she'd never see herself. With the latest addition grazing a new string on the bottom. A postcard from Montreal with a Renaissance-style domed basilica on it - the kind of old-fashioned buildings she liked.

What irritated her the most, however, were the two sentences written in the back.

"some films shot here:

the score, catch me if you can, lucky number slevin, red 2, john wick 2

-T"

That was all. 

Now, that was their usual thing. This inside joke between them. Him teasing her love for heist-films by writing some famous works shot or playing in the place he was sending the postcard from. And usually that would lighten her mood.

But considering the way they had parted ways on New Year's and the fact he'd stopped calling or texting her, she somehow expected more. Maybe even an apology for just disappearing after stealing a kiss from her like that.

Hah, she laughed bitterly, be glad he even sent a postcard again.

The past three months and four days had been a blur. Or at least that was what she tried to remember them as. Her thoughts did not revolve around that particular man, wondering where he was and what he was doing and if he'd ever have the courage to show himself in front of her again or if he'd just avoid her for the rest of their lives.

And they surely did not revolve around that heart-pulling, breath-taking, mind-dazzling, dream-like, passionate kiss they'd shared that night. A kiss so incomparable and mind-altering that she sometimes doubted it had ever really happened or if it had simply originated from a wild fever dream. From a straight up delirium state she had seen patients with 39°C fever or more in.

Then again, the fact she had never experienced something like this before, let her doubt her mind would've had the source material to create a moment like this on its own.

No, surely she wasn't wasting a single thought about that.

Tears blurred her vision for a second, heartache along with her overall exhaustion cumulating along with the crushing expectations of that very day. Her birthday.

Everything rising to the surface for a split second before she got a hold of herself again and swallowed everything but one single tear down.

It'd have been easier getting over such a disappointment if it was some random guy online she'd merely wasted a week talking to. But this wasn't a random guy from the internet. This was Taehyung.

Deciding not to dwell into self-pity, she blanked out all these negative emotions.

After eating the left-over cake she'd brought home, she decided to head for her bed when the doorbell rang. Something blue on the door mat catching her attention then. She squatted down and picked up the object, pushing the blue fancy paper aside. Only to reveal a flower pot of blue hydrangeas.

Her eyes widened. She always wanted blue hydrangeas but missed their season. Did her mother send her this?

She stood up and heaved it higher, turning it around to see if she could spot any clue about the sender when a small white card fell down and landed in front of her feet. 

"Happy birthday, Cas.

I know I was an idiot to you. I'm not the type to talk directly about my feelings. But it occurred to me that I could still talk about them through my actions."

Her heart dared to skip a beat at the handwriting and words. It was the same handwriting as on the countless postcards before. Taehyung's. With furrowed brows she flipped the card, seeing a another text written there.

Her eyes widened, intrigued by its arcane nature.

"Font Mágica de Montjuic - four columns / 5:55pm / ? "

»»»

It was late afternoon when Taehyung set foot in front of the four tall columns above the so-called 'magical' fountain. Having a perfect view over it. He pushed his sunglasses, which soon would become pointless, up the bridge of his nose and stifled a yawn as he leaned against the white marble. 

Their last job had ended over two days ago but after multiple layovers - not able taking the easy route as some angry millionairs were on their tails - he still hadn't adjusted to the time-difference.

He stretched his arm then, revealing the watch under the sleeve of the hoodie. Due to a delay he'd feared not making it, but thankfully he was on time. Five more minutes till the show began.

The threaneningly red evening sun would soon disappear behind the buildings but the temperature remained pleasant. It was nice to finally feel spring on his skin after being in the north for so long. 

His brown irises where fixated on the enormous fountain in front of him, although seemingly unspectacular right now due to the water jets currently kept low. For now.

Cassandra liked this place. The fountain with the view of the cascades and the art museum on the top in the background being one of her favourite places in the city, he remembered that. Of couse he did. He remembered everything she had ever told him. Every little insigificant detail because the sum of it made up her. 

He had to admit, however, he also liked that place a lot. It looked like straight from a fairytale, especially at night with all the lights illuminating it.

Now in the evening, the warm colours of the sunset sparkled on the water surface, adding an even bigger mystical almost eery atmosphere to it. It looked quite different from the last time he'd been there, with her. Fond memories creeping up his mind when remembering that day. The first day he'd waited outside of the hospital for her.

His gaze wandered over the greenery, wondering if Cassandra would even follow his invitation and appear. He couldn't blame her if she didn't, he knew he didn't treat her particularly fairly. This was why he wanted to redeem himself after all.

Taehyung felt guilty for disappearing on her for over three months. Sure, they'd got caught by Seokjin and his men, however, their custody stay only lasted a couple of days like it always did before they escaped. No, this hadn't been the reason, neither was it them having to lay low for some weeks or their time-consuming next coup. Or at least, these hadn't been his sole reasons for not visiting but also not contacting her.

Truth was, he was scared - terrified even - to face her again. Not only because of her reaction, but also because all those months he tried figuring out what he actually wanted and if he should even cave into it considering the life he lived. It hadn't been easy and he still wasn't sure if he made the right decision, but he knew he couldn't keep her waiting anymore - in case she even bothered to still waste a single thought on him and hadn't already completely crossed him out of her life. Again, he couldn't blame her if she had.

However, even if so, Cassandra wasn't just anybody to him and he owed her an explanation at least. Whether she despised him now or not.

There was a significantly lower amount of people at this time of the day. Now with the dim afternoon light lesser people strolling around the square.

From the corners of his eyes he caught someone nearing the colums then. Familiar long curls swaying over a plaid coat coming to a halt in front of the railing. And Taehyung's muscles instantly relaxed, only now realising how strained his whole body had been with nervousness and worry.

Of course he couldn't be sure it was her as the figure was standing further afar, and yet his heart had recognised her and pulsed faster.

With a deep inhale to calm his nerves, he pushed himself off the column and neared her with quick steps. Afraid she might change her mind after all and walk away at any second. 

"Hey."

He sensed Cassandra tense up when pausing beside her, not daring to move her head and meet his gaze. Her usual warm eyes rested instead on the illuminated blueish green water in the distance. She blinked once, twice. And Taehyung began getting nervous all over again as the seconds passed without her saying anything. Only staring blankly ahead. 

"Happy.. happy birthday."

Finally, her expression softened with a sigh. "Thank you."

"Uhm, I assume you got the flowers then."

"Y-yeah, I liked them." Of course she liked them. He'd even remembered that she preffered pots over cut flowers. "Thank you." Her voice was paper-thin, distant and almost sorrowful and it caused his own gaze to fall.

"I'm glad you did."

Cassandra nodded quietly. "Blue's my favourite colour.."

"I know. That's why I chose them." His lips curving into a weak smile. And it annoyed her, how well he knew her despite all the time apart. "Thank you for coming here," he began then with cautious, his voice almost a timid whisper not to scare her away in any way. It didn't take a genius to see that this time was different from the previous ones. Especially since Cassandra was always wearing her heart on her sleeve, no matter how hard she tried to conceal it. "Wasn't sure if you would or not."

"Got the night shift. Have to leave in a bit."

"Ah." 

They grew quiet, gaze falling to the solemn water surface. Taehyung scratched his neck, uncertain how to proceed.

"You're probably wondering what I'm doing here," he eventually spoke up then, only seeing her shaking her head. Much to his surprise.

"Not really," she deadpanned and he wanted to laugh at this.

"No?"

With a shrug she averted her eyes from the water jets to finally spare him a brief glance. "It's not the first time you disappear for months only to randomly show up again. I'm kinda used to it. It was just the first time you disappeared without any trace since the beginning." She would've cracked a sarcastic smile if she hadn't felt a rush of anger when recalling the past months.

It was so irrational. This was what she'd waited and hoped for all that time, for him to show up again. Then why did she feel so incredibly mad at him the second she saw his usually charming face? 

"Oh," was all he could muster up to say. He could clearly see that it was burdening her, just like he'd feared. "It's good that I came to put some things straight then," his voice gainining firmness, "I know last time we saw each other I left with.." He paused, carefully choosing his words. "I must've left you with lots of questions."

"You did," she plainly stated and he almost shuddered. 

So that was how it felt when Cassandra was mad. She was cold and distant, nothing like her kind and sweet self. It was probably what he deserved anyway.

He was about to speak up when the alarm on his watch went off and he remembered why he'd called her there in the first place. 

Her lips parted, but he stopped her from saying anything else with a bright smile. "Please wait a few more minues before telling me off, okay? Because the second part of your birthday gift starts now!"

She frowned, puzzled at his sudden excitement. "S-second?"

"Of course!" He sounded offended. "Did you think flowers were all you'd get?" The corners of his lips curled up in that adorably boyish manner that distinguished his grins from anyone else. Grabbing her by the shoulders and turning her to face the fountain again. 

And Cassandra saw what Taehyung meant, her eyes widening in awe.

The water jets began attaining height in different distances of time, first the big ones in the centre followed by the small ones all around, creating a beautiful choreography of lowering, highening and arching water streaks along with different coloured lights. Blue and pink specifically.

She knew of the fountain show once or twice a day, depending on the season. However, 6pm was not its usual time. At least not in early April when it was still too chilly and not a touristic season. 

She couldn't take her gaze from the performance against the darkening sky and pastel-coloured clouds. She was so stunned by it that she didn't pay attention to the music playing. Taking her a moment longer to recognise the melody over the noise of the dancing water. And when she did, her head immediatelly turned to search for his eyes, only to catch them already fondly staring at her. He'd anticipated her mesmerised expression, observing her this whole time without paying attention to the water show. 

"That's -"

He nodded. "You like it?"

She did. Of course she did. It was her absolut favourite movie soundtrack after all.

Her breathing got irregular, her head was spinning and she had to avert her gaze from his affectionte look. Returning to the impressive fountains.

No, she couldn't start misinterpreting things yet again. She'd already done that enough times in the past, she couldn't be fooled yet again. He had disappeared for months, clearly regretting the kiss and feeling guilty now for leading her on. She knew it, she knew it and it broke her heart and set anew tears in her heart. The only reason he made her such a wonderful gift was because he pitied her and felt sorry. And yet it also made all these locked away feelings resurface and it wasn't fair, how he gave her heart arrhythmia and her lungs dyspnoea all over again for all the wrong reasons.

He didn't have feelings for her. At least not any romantic ones. She had to finally accept that and she had. She really had until now, when her delusional hope and irrational expectations took over her senses as she watched water dancing to the 'Love Theme' from'The Godfather'. 

- What an irony, out of all songs.

And she felt the tears welling up at the corners of her eyes. She was touched by the thoughtful gift. Goosebumps spreading over her skin at the melancholic melody playing over the elaborate water show in the middle of the grand fountain. But she also choked up from her unrequited feelings and the false hope his lovely gesture gave her.

The song finished, the water jets lowered and everything fell silent.

There were some people gathered around the fountain now, spectators of the show. Cassandra closed her eyes for a moment, gathering her thoughts. "Taehyung -" 

"Wait, it's not over yet. Now my favourite movie soundtrack follows."

Her eyes fluttered open and before she could even ask, another melody began playing and water was being splashed up again. And she saw him smile softly while looking ahead.

She'd missed his voice. She'd missed his gentle yet stern eyes. She'd missed the curve of his nose and his smile. She'd missed the way his parted hair flowing over his forehead and eyes whenever he moved or got windblown.

Swallowing down the lump in her throat, she faced the fountain again. Standing there beside him and preoccupying herself by trying remembering the title of the familiar melody.

Of course, she eventually thought then when recalling the famous song and one of her favourite soundtracks, too. It was 'Strangers in the Night'.

However, Taehyung hadn't only picked it because it was his favouite soundtrack, the main reason was because it reminded him of Cassandra. He had never paid much attention to the lyrics before but for the first time, he could relate to them. And perhaps that's why it was his favouite one after all.

"You know Sinatra disliked that song," he stated then, making her perk up. She hummed, gaze returning to the performance. 

"He was an idiot then."

And Taehyung laughed, it was a genuine laugh. Causing Cassandra to purse her lips to prevent herself from laughing as well.

Instead she saw the colours of the lights intensifying the darker the sky became. And she couldn't help but think of the night she and Taehyung had first met when recalling the lyrics herself. The lump returning.

The song ended soon after. Now even more people having gathered down at the fountain and even up there at the platform. It was fairly crowded by now. And Taehyung realised this was probably not the best place to discuss. So he held his hand out for her, meeting her arched brow.

He exhaled frustrated, retriving it instantly. "Come, let's go somewhere quieter."

She seemingly contemplated it, looking over her shoulder then back at the beautiful fountain. With a deep sigh, she eventually stepped back and nodded. Following him up the stairs of the cascades and reaching the top in front of the palace-like building. With the broad panorama view of the glistening city and the four columns, the magical fountain visible behind them. Up there, there was little to no one at this time and day.

"So, why did you make me climb up all these stairs?" Cassandra whined in between of panting. Propping herself at the stone-railing when seeing Taehyung beside her, casually leaning against it. Both of them standing there with a respectable distance.

"It's quieter here, don't you think?"

"I suppose.."

Neither one knew what to say or where to begin. And Taehyung felt his cheeks blushing when seeing her there in the light of the illuminated water basin behind them. The soft and curious eyes, the dark curls that got longer over the months, swaying in the light breeze against her cuddly cheeks. He just wanted to hug her and hold her in his arms again. 

Cassandra straightened herself then, her sudden movement interrupting his silent gaping.

"Thank you for.. for this. The fountain show, I mean. How did you do it?"

He only gave her an ambigious smile. "Don't worry about that."

She hmphed at this but didn't persist as something else was more imprtant to her. "You asked me to let you explain yourself.. so go on. Explain why you kissed me in a way that knocked my breath away - something medically impossible by the way - only to disappear for months with nothing but a postcard as a sign of life."

He should've been astonished by her sudden straightforwardness, but he figured she was simply too fed up with him at this point. Still, he couldn't keep himself from biting back an unappropiate smirk that threatened to break onto his lips when hearing her description of the kiss. It flattered his ego as he agreed with her. "I didn't want to discuss it on the phone."

"Fair enough, then do it now."

His lips parted but his throat, however, felt dry and itchy. His mind an endless void, absent of all the words he wanted to say to her. All of the sudden, he felt like a deer caught in the headlights. And nothing came out. Lips pressing together again as he awkwardly looked away.

Cassandra's jaw clenched and she abrubtly checked the time on her phone. "If that's all, you've got to excuse me but I gotta head to work now and don't have time for this game."

He knew her night shift started at 10pm and they still had almost four hours to go, but he understood the cue and pushed himself off the railing.

"Didn't expect any less of someone as smart as you."

She only huffed at this. Her eyes wandered up to meet his. Something in the atmosphere shifting in that moment. She swallowed.

"You do realise songs and pretty flowers aren't enough, right?"

He nodded, taking a few steps closer to her. The light from the building's spotlights illuminating her face, bathing her in a warm almost etheral glow. "Of course I know."

She exhaled, looking away as she was unable to remain upset because at the end of the day, this was Taehyung. The only man that ever moved her.  And with a much gentler voice, she almost pleaded, "Just say it then. Say why you kissed me only to dip and disappear before.. before giving me the chance to properly react to it. Just cut the games and tell me."

"Cas.."

"Why can't you admit it?" Her voice raised now and she almost stomped her foot out of frustration. Why couldn't he just admit he was regretting it? "Whatever it is, I deserve a proper explanation. Don't I?"

He breathed. "Of course you do." He could tell she was trying her best to keep herself together but the angry tears brimming in her eyes, threatening to roll down her cheeks, gave her away. Along with her cracking voice.

"Why are you such a coward then? I thought a thief would be much braver."

He softly grabbed her arms, causing her to look him in the eyes. "It's easier to break into a safe or hunt down a treasure than putting into words.. I simply can't express myself properly. But for you I'll try." His steady voice held certainty and a promise she wanted to believe. "You're far more stubborn than anyone I've ever encountered before, you know that?" he smiled then and a faint, tiny grin finally crossed her face. Finally managing to steal a small giggle from her.

Cassandra sniffed then, wiping under her eyes. "That's like the pot calling the kettle black." Her expression clouded then. "What do you want from me, Tae?" she whispered, a low thread of anguish flickering below the surface.

With a sigh, Taehyung took her cold hands in his warm ones and lowered his head, resting his forehead against hers. One of his hands heaved then, slender fingers brushing away a strand from her blushing cheek before tenderly touching her jaw. Cupping it with a pained expression on his features as his brows furrowed.

He didn't know what he was doing. That was not what he'd settled on. He knew he should stay away from her, he had decided on confessing his feelings but explain that it simply couldn't be. However, he didn't have the heart to do it anymore because, frankly, he didn't want to. His heart was betraying his mind in that moment and as much as he had argued with himself and chosen the rightful, the logical path, being there with her, getting lost in her fierce irises and holding her so close to him, made him weak.

And suddenly his lips were on hers, causing every synapse in her brain to short out for a moment before going to overdrive. Her whole body melted only to rebuild and float into the air.

The sensation of his lips gently pressing onto hers taking her back to the cold winter night months ago. And her lips instinctively moved against his.

Dopamine, oxytocin, and serotonin.

She remembered them well, the chemical cocktail designed to make humans feel good and crave more. And indeed, it did. It did make her crave more. Just like that New Year's night back then. 

The first time she hadn't realised as it had been rushed and unexpected, but it was a terrifying thing, to let a thief kiss you like that. There was always the danger of him stealing more than just a kiss after all. And she feared that had already happened.

Taehyung held her closer. Trying telling her all the things he wasn't even sure what exactly they were with the press of his mouth on hers. Lips fueled by unknown desire. Not that it mattered, really. There was no way to hide it anymore. It was too overwhelming by now. He had never wanted anyone like this before. He'd had brief, sporadic flicker of interest here and there over the years, but nothing came even close to the way he felt when he was with her. And in that, he was certain.

She understood him, calmed him, laughed with him, saw what was underneath. The realest version of himself was the one he saw in her beautiful round eyes when being with her. He knew he could visit every country in the world, steal every treasure there was, but nothing would ever compare to that single moment when he kissed Cassandra.

Their lips parted. Dark eyes flickering over her smooth features then. He didn't know what angel he owed this chance to, he was simply going to make it count. And eventually he breathed out the only right answer.

"You, Cassandra. I only want you."

»»»

next chapter: 0.9 here

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[blueberrypancakesworld]

A tantrum in the baby cot

Franco Barbi x mum!reader

warning : outlast level of dark themes, dom/sub undertones, slight injury, kiss, comfort, pain kink, nickname : Ma'm, Mommy

Summary : A tantrum can always happen during turn-based data collections, but this adult baby's tantrums calmed down pretty quickly, just not this time. Before any more bloodbaths were caused, a solution had to be found and the only thing that would help was to put the baby in his cot and call his mum to look after her little boy.

info : So the third work for Franco the cute little one also this one was fun to write especially the oversized crib for him and I wish you all a lot of fun and see you next time :)

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

Kids aren't they cute? Children, some say, are the joy of life, the joy of a family, the joy of a mother and the son for a father. A child is something special, born out of love between mother and father, nine months later, with blood, screams and love, something alive was born for her, for the doctors and guards around her, and for him too.

Each of them was born this way but something didn't seem quite right with one of the good moments since his birth, growing up without a mother, not breastfed at her breast, not loved and not kissed.

The only thing the son had received in young adulthood was the seat of his next mother's high heels kicking him and pressing him to the floor as his hips rubbed against the ground as he , ,,Not worthy of my body" as she had told him, the spit mixed with the blood from his runny nose on the floor and he could be the happiest son he could imagine.

But was it a ‘wrong’ childhood that had led him to this area, this dock, or to her? He didn't know, she didn't know and it seemed only the manager could know but he hadn't met him, probably just another police pig like the son of a police whore type who always charged the air too much and made his nice suit seem uncomfortable.

He didn't want to fill the air with electronics, he wanted to pollute the air with blood, to see where the teeth dug into the walls and bodies, something he could do every day, going out of his room and doing his hunting, ,,Hanging like rags here bloodless…where are the next ones? Hey, I'm talking to you fuckers!" the man's screams could be heard through the large facility as his bloodlust was probably not satisfied by five victims.

As he went round and round looking for new victims, new meat and, above all, new tops for his milk bottles, the management slowly realised that it was time to put the baby to sleep by force…or so they would have done if one little thing hadn't gone wrong.

One little thing in which she had underestimated him and Franco only needed three shots, ,,New fuck toy nice" he rejoiced as the ammunition in the form of teeth and bones drilled through the uniforms and a kick against the door and a shot with the Lupara was one of the most dangerous experiments free, free in search of his mother.

A mother lashing out on the other side of the building not wanting to be abused again, ,,Oh! My baby boy is going to kill you" she said as she cried out her personal doctor some older man with a nurse who gave her the cocktail mix of hormones every fortnight, a cocktail pill injection mix of hormones she knew she would never get back to normal inside.

Just because she was the mother she loved, a woman for the baby, a hormone-reacting glass with tits or whatever they called her, nothing more to her doctor than a means to an end with which he could roughly handle ramming the needle straight into her skin and leaving the odd blow on her.

But for every injury, Franco was only more outraged as he seemed to sense what was happening to his mother and this time it was probably just too much, ,,You'll be pierced, cut up, drained and mutilated," she said as she saw the bright flashing light of the orange lamp on the wall she had already figured it had something to do with the experiments.

When she saw the uncertain look on the woman's face, she had nothing but laughter left, knowing that it would only be minutes before she was back in the game, back at his side and finally able to love someone again, ,,Mother! Mother!" the three of them heard the distant screams in the operating theatre as shots and footsteps were heard.

The nurse fled screaming and the doctor retreated with a warning look, they both knew that in the end the organisation could always kill them both, patience only lasted until they had him under control again but why not act a little.

The metal shackles came off automatically and she got back to her feet, the dark dress on her, blood running down her arm and the bruise from the blow visible on her cheek, she dragged herself out of the room in pain.

,,Oh-Oh my baby…F-Franco! Mummy's here!" she cried, dragging herself along her cheek, leaving a small trail of blood as she looked for him, knowing that he was somewhere nearby, that he could smell her, that the pills were specially mixed to make him smell her, that he could smell her blood, her excitement, her fear and her lust, everything of hers that was his…if she wanted it.

It only took a few more minutes before she saw the bright dirty blood spattered suit, the shotgun and a worried look, ,,Ma'm!" he cried out as if everything he held dear had just been burnt in front of him he almost fell to his knees in front of her and clung to her, ,,You-you're all right!" the kidn gave his gun back in its holster and he looked at her, crying more and more with each injury and looking more and more vengeful.

But she put a hand on his cheek and he could feel the warm blood on it spread slightly, Franco cuddled her hand as if he hadn't seen her for years as if every touch was something he got something from whether it was love or excitement it didn't seem to matter it seemed the same.

,,I'm fine, my baby's here now…but you know, look around," she told him, her posture, which had been limp and pained before, straightening and completely absorbed in her role, her hands firmly on his shoulders, her gaze roaming the cameras, a look that told her kind-hearted observers that she had him under control.

He felt himself momentarily diminish as his fingers played with the buttons of his suit, almost casually stroking his midsection before he said more calmly, ,,It's messy but-but I was worried," he protested, turning to face her as she hugged him from behind, her arms wrapped around him, he felt her soft breasts against his back, her lips over his lips and he felt a shudder as he heard her voice against his ear.

A voice he would give anything for, something he wanted to follow, ,,Yes that may be but you're still a naughty boy, you know a nice boy doesn't throw a hissy fit when he can't find his mum do you?" she asked her finger running down his side along the leather of his belt and smirked as she felt his half-hardness Franco just nodded and his gaze drifted to the floor.

But she didn't allow this for long, lifting Lupara from his leather waffle belt she warned him with a hiss as she walked ahead and Franco followed her, his hands holding onto the fabric of her dress probably stroking her thigh again and again she knew that he wanted her, that he wanted to be a good boy and that he wanted her love but he would have to wait a little longer as the pair walked back to his base.

,,I've tidied up just for you and a drink,knew that something as pretty as you were just waiting for it" he said, chuckling almost effusively at his words as he closed the door behind her and the click was heard as his mother and lover made her way to the double-sized cot and lay down on it.

Watching her Franco with an amused grin, a young man a grown child hastily trying to grab the drinks and get back to her while she had long since tended to her wounds. ,,Here Mummy," he said happily, handing her a martini glass with dark wine in it, which she took from him with a smile, the gun still in her hand.

The wine was a little older, not that it spoilt the taste, on the contrary, it only seemed to taste better here in this shithole, her home away from home, as she closed her eyes in pleasure and tried to enjoy the alcohol.

A pleasure that remained for a few moments when Franco turned to her, the grown-up baby always had his well-deserved sleep in the cradle, but mostly alone with nothing but toys, milk and his own desires, but now she was there.

He downed the wine in one go and let his hands wander up her thighs, fingers stained with blood and dirt staining her skin, ,,Mhh I want little more of you?" he asked sighing as he ran his tongue over the cold blood on her arms, almost enjoying the puncture holes from which he would get a few more drops of her insides, her so warm soft insides.

Her eyes narrowed for a moment at first she wanted to tip the wine over him but what mother could say no to such sunshine, let him continue, she leaned back into the pillows feeling him wanting more and more, trying to get at her blood, his hands awkwardly reaching up her body.

To the point where she let him do it as she pressed Lupara to his chest, ,,Of course a greedy little impotent disgusting gnome gets more…if you do well," she said, seeing how for a fraction anger at the insult surfaced as she let the end of the weapon wrap from his chest down to his centre and increased the pressure on it, he was already nothing more than a whimpering little thing nestling against her, kissing every part of her body.

The grunts and whimpers were like pleasant music to her next to the constant screams and insults as he lay half on her body his head on her chest sighing as he felt her heartbeat aware of her inside and out ,,May I Mommy?" he asked his voice innocent though she saw exactly what he was capable of and seeing him like this the mighty Franco Barbie begged pressing against her waiting for her to pull her dress back on.

Putting the gun aside yet still pointing it at him she gave him a gentle smile placing a hand on his cheek before ,,Of course such a protective good boy" she said proudly as he pulled back the fabric covering her breasts and she saw the glint of excitement, arousal and love in his eyes as he immediately latched onto one of her nipples to massage the other.

He chuckled as she let out a pleasurable moan, the gun pressing further against him with each passing moment saying if he did even one wrong thing he would push her off, the pain of her fingers caressing his skin the praise he needed, the pleasurably disparaging look she gave him making the blood rush to his loins, ,,Thank you…Ma'm thank you," he murmured only letting go of her breast for a moment to acknowledge her gaze. She saw the faint glimmer of her own breast milk on his lips greedy as a little baby he never seemed to want to let go of her.

The look he was always under, under which both his sides were, she always had him on a leash even though he would bite her to death, she was his everything, she was the wife, the mother he had always missed and he was the son she never wanted and yet always needed.

She pressed him closer to her, stroking his back from time to time as the gun pressed harder and harder against his chest, knowing that if he wasn't tough enough in the coming moments, hours, who knows what days, she would shoot his heart out.

A thought that only excited him more and he slowly rubbed himself against her, ,,Oh someone's all excited then, we have all the time in the world don't we?" she asked threatening not to get an answer as she grabbed his nakcne and yanked him away from her.

Francos lust veiled gaze narrowed in pleasure as he felt the blow it was only the first one that night it wouldn't be the first time that moment he was petulant oh and it wouldn't be the last time they both stained the cot together with blood, bodily fluids and ammunition because at the end of the day every child needs love after a tantrum.

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

@homefander , @millie-milkshake , @youre-gonna-see-a-lot-of-me , @xboxjuice , @cuddlecow

[deepflowerruins]

when zoro is heavily injured

navigation link

WARNING - heavy spoilers ahead, bloodshed, crying, starving.

characters - straw hats, brook, rolling pirates (lola and her crew), bartholomew kuma, gecko moria.

short summary - scenario of the post thriller bark arc, reader is a part of the straw hats. brook still hasn't joined.

their fight was already over, the straw hats together with brook defeated gecko moria. but they didn't realise there were more of problems in front of them.

A big man dressed in white and black clothes holding a bible in his hands appeared before them. he looked absolutely terrifying.

"guys, don't freak out, but I forgot to tell you that, he is bartholomew kuma, he is yet another warlord and has come to annihilate us on orders of the government." nami said. everyone was already tired, the fight with gecko moria went on for 4 days. they had not eaten till then. facing yet another warlord was difficult for them. luffy had already passed out from the exhaustion by using gear 3.

"just leave it to me" arrived a voice from behind y/n. she recognised the voice, it was zoro's. he was ready to fight although he was himself not capable of it. "zoro, you're already-" y/n was cut off by zoro "I have to do it for luffy" he said.

"don't you dare zoro!" she screamed back. they were distracted by their talks, while kuma was prepared for his attack. he compressed a lot of air. if he let's it out, it could probably cause the whole thriller bark to fall over.

kuma let out his attack. wiping everything and everyone out. the intensity of his attack caused everyone to black out.

after a while, y/n got up, she ran around very places to find zoro. she finally found him. rocks shattered, blood spilt all over him. he was barely managing to stand up.

"z-zoro?" tears fell down her eyes. they traced down her cheeks and reached her cleavage as she holds zoro.

"h-how did this happen?" she asked while sobbing. but the brave swordsman replied "nothing happened"

"chopper!" y/n called out for the ship's doctor. everyone ran and came to the origin of the voice. zoro fainted in her arms as he couldn't hold himself anymore. chopper quickly gave him the first aid and ordered some rest.

everyone sat in the mansion. ready to enjoy their win, but y/n couldn't celebrate it anymore. she sat silently in the room next to where zoro was lying. without eating or drinking anything. how could she eat when her lover wouldn't?

she patted his head "get well soon, zoro" she said as once again tears rolled down her cheeks.

it had soon been the whole day, but zoro wasn't awake yet. robin came inside the room "y/n, you don't wanna eat?" she asked. "no, I am just fine, I am not hungry."

"do you realise that it's been 4 days since we did not eat anything? It will be almost 5 in a few minutes" robin spoke "it is because of zoro?"

"yeah, how can I eat when he didn't?" y/n replied. she was ready to give away her life for zoro and so would zoro do.

"just make sure you don't spoil your health, or else zoro won't be happy once he wakes up!" robin giggled and left the room.

it was almost 3am in the morning, when zoro opened his eyes "hey? zoro, you awake?" y/n asked happily. he sat up on his bed and gave a tight hug to her "yeah, now I am" "how are you feeling now? do you want me to call chopper so he can check up on you?" "no it's fine, I am okay now that I am with you!"

their fondness and happiness was unmatched. soon zoro noticed that y/n looked pale. "why are you looking so pale?" "ah, it's nothing, just some tiredness" "sure?" he asked for confirmation "yes love, sure"

the next morning, they were awake earlier than others. y/n went ahead to the backyard to sit with zoro who was training. soon sanji along with others, came running to check up on zoro

"my lady, any treat you would like? I will make it right away" sanji asked. "oh, whenever and whatever zoro's eating" she replied. "oh, yeah, I have been hungry, it's been days since I last ate" zoro said.

sanji went ahead to the ship's kitchen since the mansion's was already destroyed due to the fight. he quickly made some delicacies and presented it to them. "thank you for the food" y/n thanked.

as soon as they were finished, they all boarded the ship along with a new member. zoro went to the deck. "hey, usopp! why did y/n looked so pale earlier?" he asked his fellow crewmate.

"ah, we did many things to make her eat but she just wouldn't eat without you! she went hungry for 5 days insisting that how could she eat without you?" he replied. zoro was really upset.

although he knew her well, but he didn't expect her to go hungry since she is fond of eating. it really made him worried about her extent.

he dashed to the crow's nest where she sat, "y/n?! why did you not eat these past 5 days?" y/n was speechless. contemplating how he got to know. he quickly hugged her and said "do you know how upset I was after I heard that?" he said silently. holding her figure in his arms. "just how could I eat without you?"

"me not eating doesn't mean you shouldn't love, it's not about showing your extent to me or others to prove how much you love me, i understand you did it out of love, but you should take care of yourself because I'd be really upset if you don't. you know it well"

"and i still haven't forgiven you for that fight!" she giggled and gave him the tightest hug ever.

[galaxyedging]

Dirty little Frankie drabble with pregnant reader.

Warnings: P in V sex. Horniess. A little concern about the baby from Frankie, everything is fine. No proof reading. It's late I have to get the honry thoughts out.

Feel Good

Reading all the pregnancy books had not prepared you. They said your hormones would be everywhere. Mood swing would be common.

They did not say you would be honry all the damn time. They didn't say that your husband would become addicted to how wet and sensitive you were. Or that your pussy would taste 'even more heavenly' to him.

"Frankie. Fuck, please just put it in me. I need to feel full. I need it." The chair in your grip below you was covered in your sweat.

At six months gone you were getting rather round and it was easier for Frankie to fuck you from behind if you kneel on your reading chair. He could get as deep as you wanted, well as deep as you needed him. And you did need him, all the time. He had just made you come on his beautiful face and here you were begging him to fill you up.

"Patience, Sweetheart. Aren't you going to woo me a little first…?"

"Frankie." You snapped at him.

He was wise enough to notch his cock at your entrance and slowly slide all the way home after that. "Oh, Frankie. I love you. God, I love you."

Each long steady thrust hit its target. The air was punched from your lungs each time. The pleasure built along with a strange sort of pressure. If Frankie's thick cock didn't feel so damn good sliding in and out of you, you would have questioned it.

"That's it. I feel you getting tighter from me. Come on. Cream on my cock. I promise to fill you up afterwards. Come for me, Baby." And come you did, hard. Blindingly so. So hard that it took you a little while to realise that Frankie had pulled out completely and that it was more than just your cum running down your thighs. "Shit. Is that normal? Is that a baby thing? Do we need to get you checked out?"

Frankie started pacing frantically. His cock, still hard and leaking, bobbed as he did so. The part of you that was a hundred percent sure that Frankie had just succeeded in making you squirt for the first time, and the baby was fine, found the sight comical. The tiny doubt that only grew with his nervousness cleaned yourself off and got ready to head to the doctor's.

An hour and a very awkward conversation later it was confirmed that, yes, you were both fine and yes, Frankie had made you squirt. The longing glances the staff gave Frankie made you smile as you headed out.

"Here we go. You just rest." Frankie tucked you into bed with a warm drink.

"Frankie, I squirted. I didn't get sick."

"I know." His ears tinged red and a boyish smirk spread across his lips.

"Oh, you didn't get to come. Do you want to…?"

"No, Sweetheart. I just got you home and cosy. Plus you must be tired from before." His smirk grew cocky.

"You're pretty proud of yourself, huh? You liked making me squit all over myself?"

The tent in his sweatpants told you as much.

Frankie let out a low groan as you palmed him through his pants. "Are you proud that you are the only person to make me squirt?" His cock twitched against your palm. "Are you proud that this big cock made me feel so good?" Wrapping your spit slicked palm around his now free length, you felt him swell in your grip.

"This big cock that fucked a baby into me so everyone knows that you gave me your load good and deep."

"Fuck. Keep going." He could have meant your hand slowly pumping his length in a tight grip or your filthy words of praise. Either one could serve Frankie to get there.

"It always makes me feel so good, Frankie. It could just by the sheer size of it. Filling me up in all the right ways. Then on top of it you know who to use it. You always fuck me so good, Frankie."

"Yeah. I need to. I can't get enough of that perfect cunt." His breath was juddering, his hand came up to guide yours as his hips lifted up off the bed next to you. "It always feels so good pulling me in. Oh, that's it. Faster. Just a little m…ah. Oh. Oh, shit." Together you worked him through his orgasm. His cum covered your hands and his lower stomach. His chest rose and fell rapidly at first. Then it began to slow. Then it slowed further still.

"Frankie?" A snore was the only reply you got.

Climbing out of bed you washed your hands before getting a cloth to clean up Frankie. He stirred a little as you did. "Did I make you feel good, Mi Amor?" He asked sleepily.

"You always do, Frankie."

[billpottsismygf]

There's so much to process that I don't even know where to start. Just off the bat, it was a very fun and very campy episode. I imagine there will be a lot of people annoyed at some of the goofier elements (eg. lava erupting just under the streets, then knitting right back together), but I don't mind a bit of goofiness and it felt enjoyable the whole way through.

All the moments between Donna and the Doctor were so great. I love how much Donna is still just Donna at heart, even if she's forgotten things. The little quiet moment after she says she wanted to "be like him" was especially effective.

Rose is great, too. I love that her first instinct was to hide and help the Meep. I also love that her transness is important to her character, and that the show isn't shying away from unapologetically depicting a trans teenager. I do think some of the stuff that comes later is a little clumsy, however.

Onto that, I'm fine with the idea that Donna having a child has diluted the metacrisis enough for them both to survive a little longer with it. The weird parts were:

1) The suggestion that it works because the DoctorDonna is binary (a man and a woman), while Rose is non-binary. Is that suggesting that she's trans because of the metacrisis? That the metacrisis is only safe because she's trans? Both of those seem weird. Why is gender at all relevant to how safe/balanced the metacrisis is? I need to rewatch it and see if it's more coherent on second view, but on first viewing it just seemed like a dumb way to make Donna's "binary binary binary" breakdown have more meaning than it does.

2) The whole bit about them being able to just let the metacrisis go. How come they can just let it go? Again, why the focus on the Doctor being "male presenting"? Why the bit about only women knowing how to let things go?

I want to be really clear that I very much appreciate RTD putting trans themes so front and centre in Doctor Who, and I will be vehemently defending it against anyone who tries to be transphobic about it. Unfortunately, I just think it's a little clumsy in parts of this episode.

Small things:

Beep the Meep was adorable, and then adorably evil. We love the Meep.

Shirley's weapons-firing wheelchair was amazing, and I like her character so far. Is she Osgood's replacement? She feels like the deliberate antithesis of Osgood, who was such a fangirl of the Doctor, while Shirley pointedly doesn't care. I do actually love Osgood, so I'll be sad if she's not around anymore, but hey ho.

I like that Donna is in such a stable and loving relationship with Shaun. After all her troubles with men in previous series, it's nice seeing her loved and appreciated.

What the hell was going on with the sonic this episode? I don't like the sonic being too overpowered generally, and suddenly the Doctor is capable of creating bullet proof shields out of thin air with it? And crumbling brick walls in seconds? It's not a magic wand!

That new TARDIS interior is absolutely huge. I love the classic design, but I'm not sure that such a stark look works when it's so enormous. If it's going to be that big, I'd rather it had a little more going on. I do like the colour-changing lights, though!

Meep said they were going to tell "the Boss", which immediately made me think of the Toymaker, which then immediately made me realise that Rose is also a toymaker. Is that going to be relevant? It's definitely deliberate. (Sidenote, her cyberman and ood are adorable and I would absolutely buy them.)

[bullet-prooflove]

Hello, hello my beautiful and talented writer friend! I was wondering, do you have any ideas for this prompt and Dwight Hendrickson?

“I couldn't fathom life without you”

Tagging: @kmc1989 @words-and-seeds @cookiedoughmeagain @magic-multicolored-miracle @novamariestark

Companion piece to:

On The Rocks - Dwight finds you on the beach after a fight about Wade Crocker.

Lightshow - Dwight knows that something bad's happened when the lights to flicker.

Sedated - Your Trouble causes issues when the doctors try to help with your injuries.

Power - Dwight ends up on the wrong side of your Trouble.

Goodbye - You realise it's time to say goodbye after your Trouble becomes untenable.

You don’t answer the door after that last time you were together. Dwight knocks for ten minutes before he sighs and he takes his notebook out from the glove compartment and writes you a letter.  

He knows you’re in there, at this point you’ve stopped leaving the house because you’re terrified of causing some sort of catastrophe. The problem is your Trouble, it reacts to fear and you, you’re scared all the time. You have been since Wade Crocker tried to kill you.

Don’t let him have this power over you Alex, he writes you. Don’t let him take away the good things in your life.

He signs it off with a kiss before slipping it under your door.

The next time he comes by there’s a letter already waiting on your porch along with an empty casserole dish he brought over a few days ago. He waits until he gets back into his car to read it.

You need to let me go. It says. You deserve someone who can love you, who won’t hurt you.

The problem is Dwight’s already found his person. There won’t be another after you, he knows that for sure and he tells you that, he tells you exactly how he’s feeling because he wants you to understand how important you are, how vital you are to his existence.

I can’t fathom my life without you, he writes back. There’s no colour in the world without you in it.

When he comes back a couple of days later, there’s no note waiting for him and his heart sinks because this is it, this is the day he’s been dreading. The day when everything becomes too much and you decide to just let go.

The porch creaks as he steps onto it, his breath constricting as he raises his fist to pound on the door. He’s prepared to break it down if you don’t answer, to kick the damn thing off it’s hinges.  He doesn’t even get to knock because the door swings open and there you are standing in front of him.

“I thought…” He doesn’t finish that sentence, he just gathers you up into his arms and holds you tight, so tight that he almost squeezes the air right out of your lungs. Your hands chase up his back, rubbing soothing circles as he buries his face into your hair, immersing himself in you.

“I would never do that to you.” You whisper, your lips brushing over his grizzled cheek. “No matter how bad things got.”

And Dwight doesn’t speak, he can’t because he’s crying and those tears they just won’t stop because he almost lost you once, and he can’t stand the idea of losing you again.

“We should talk.” You murmur and he nods his head, using the back of his hand to rub the tears from his cheeks.

“Yea.” He says, his voice raw with emotion as he clasps your hands in his. “We probably should.”

Love Dwight? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[villainsandcivilians]

your writing is so good! here’s a request with the dialogue prompts:

something hurt/comfort with prompts 13 & 14

thanks!

Thank you, I hope you enjoy! (Also I’m alive and writing again!)

Warnings; blood, unconsciousness, head injury

Masterlist

Just a reminder that this is not a prompt and requests are open

-

Villain’s mind was in turmoil. Half of the time their heart was in their throat, the rest they were filled with a murderous rage that came on so suddenly that it was a struggle not to let their power explode out of them like a tornado. Civilian – limp, unconscious, bloodied Civilian – was cradled against their chest, arms hanging uselessly by their sides whilst Villain ran as best they could to get back to their base in time. Their heart twisted at the cruelty of it all. Villain knew they would have still been walking with these injuries, in a lot of pain but conscious and feral enough to carry on fighting. But Civilian? Civilian, who had never seen a day of violence in their life was passed out in Villain’s arms. Villain bared their teeth in a snarl. When they found out who was responsible for this, there would be hell to pay.

Their step faltered as they glanced down at Civilian, a drying track of blood mapping a path from their nose to their chin, their chapped lips parted. Villain forced their hands to remain steady, even as they wanted to shake with rage. The worst part was that in some way, this was their fault. The only reason anyone would attack Civilian was to get to Villain, especially after they made it clear that Civilian was off limits. Villain had begun making a mental list of people to interrogate without really realising they were doing it. They gritted their teeth and carried on running.

Villain didn’t dare think about how much time it had taken them to get back to their base, the elevator ride to their quarters too long and too silent. Their personal doctor was already on their way, meaning Villain just had to get Civilian situated and do a preliminary check of their injuries in time for their arrival. Villain bolted out of the lift before the doors were fully open, slamming their hand onto the scanner and cursing the device throughout the few seconds it took to register their identity. They ran straight into their living room, heedless of the blood and dirt that was doubtless being ground into the carpet with every step.

Without putting Civilian down, Villain pulled several cushions onto the floor and out of the way, and arranged the rest to support Civilian’s head. Villain ever so gently lifted Civilian’s body onto the sofa and laid them down, sharp eyes monitoring their every movement. Villain carefully cupped their hands around Civilian’s head to keep it steady. Their temple was bloody and starting to bruise a horrible purple colour. Villain swallowed, two fingertips pressed against Civilian’s weak pulse. Villain didn’t know how long their partner had been laying there, how long they had been unconscious. If they didn’t wake up soon –

A shot of adrenalin pumped through Villain’s veins and their muscles tensed in an instant as Civilian jolted, then gasped for air. Their eyes flew open and darted around the room frantically, trying to place themselves. Villain was there immediately.

“Sweetheart, it’s alright, I’m here. I’m right here with you, I’ve got you.” Villain’s heart twisted at the frightened look in their lover’s eyes as they finally looked up. “That’s right, just look at me. You’re safe here, we’re home now. You don’t need worry.” Civilian swallowed harshly.

“Wh-what happened?” It was a struggle for Villain not to grit their teeth.

“I don’t know yet sweetheart, but I will. I promise you that.” Civilian tried to nod but stopped when a harsh pain flooded their skull. They went to say something but the words came out mumbled, yet still they pushed themselves to sit up. Villain saw the exact moment the wave of nausea passed through them, knew how they felt as the room spun around them and their head suddenly felt like it was attached to a load of bricks. Villain caught them before they had time to reel and fall.

“Woah, woah. I know, darling, believe me I know. Just lean back… that’s it. There you go, well done. I’m right here, you’ll be okay.” Villain helped Civilian lay down again as they spoke, moving to rub gentle circles on their shoulder.

The door went in the background and Villain released a breath; the doctor had finally arrived. They rushed in wearing a combination of pyjamas, a dressing gown and polished black loafers, a leather briefcase tucked under one arm. If the situation had been less serious, Villain might have laughed. Villain moved a side to let the doctor tend to Civilian, explaining everything to them in quiet tones. Villain doubted if Civilian would remember any of this by the time they were recovered, but it served to calm them in the moment.

“You’re doing so well,” Villain murmured as the doctor finally stood back, the pair sharing a nod.

“Don’t leave them alone,” the doctor advised, “you know the drill. Falling asleep and not responding when you try to wake them is a no-go, so is any vomiting. Call me if anything happens.” They fixed Villain with a hard look, as if to convince them that Civilian needed more care than they normally afforded themselves. Villain scoffed. They might have had little care for their own health and wellbeing, but the same was not true for Civilian. The doctor must have seen this in Villain’s response, for they nodded once more before taking their leave.

Satisfied that the door was locked and Civilian was no longer in a critical condition, Villain settled down to spend the night by their side. They left only one time to get Civilian their most comfortable blanket, spending the rest of the night wide awake and holding Civilian’s hand.

-

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[whumpshaped]

I beg please can we get a continuation to the ""caretaker"" and the hypnotised whumpee? here's the link in case (https://www.tumblr.com/whumpshaped/734771203827515392/nah-cause-your-recent-caretaker-becomes-whumper) 🫶🫶

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tw caretaker turned whumper, paranoia, betrayal, conditioned whumpee, self-blame

Whumpee was pacing back and forth in their room, trying to muster up the courage to go talk to Caretaker.

They’d wanted to do it the first time after Caretaker had used a command on them, because it felt violating and cruel, but it had been too outrageous a prospect back then. They’d wanted to bring it up when Caretaker vetoed the idea of proper therapy, because it felt unreasonable and unfair, but they had decided to trust the process anyway.

But making them kneel? No. No, that was entirely too much. It was stupid and unnecessary. It was humiliating. It was… not something a friend would do.

Still, the thought of confronting someone who had become so eerily similar to Whumper was a terrifying one. Someone who had abused commands for multiple months would have no problem using them yet again to shut them down, right? They couldn’t talk to Caretaker directly. They had to go around them somehow, contact a friend, the therapist they would’ve gone to, a doctor– anyone.

Or… or maybe they were overreacting. Maybe Caretaker just didn’t know how distressing it was for them. Maybe it was all a big misunderstanding. Maybe going behind their back would be a silly thing to do, maybe… maybe…

Whumpee took a deep breath. It would’ve been significantly less risky to try to go to someone else for help. In the worst case scenario, Caretaker would get mad and cut ties. But if they went to Caretaker first… In the worst case scenario, Caretaker would realise how uncomfortable Whumpee felt, and they’d silence them. They’d make sure Whumpee never had the opportunity to talk to others about it.

Just like Whumper had done.

They had to go behind Caretaker’s back. There was no other way. They had to. Caretaker would understand, if they really were Whumpee’s friend.

They grabbed their sweater from the back of the chair and quietly left their room–

Instantly bumping into Caretaker, who had apparently been on their way to said room.

“Oh, hey,” Whumpee said awkwardly, heart hammering in their chest. Act normal. Act normal.

“Are you going somewhere?” Caretaker asked, eyeing the sweater in their hand.

“Yeah– well, not really, I guess… I, I was gonna go on a walk. Just… around the block. Get some fresh air.”

Caretaker didn’t miss a beat. “Oh, awesome idea! I’ll grab my jacket and we can go together.”

Before Whumpee could’ve come up with an excuse, Caretaker was already gone. They stood there like an idiot, feeling like they’d just squandered their only chance of getting out of this. Who knew whether they’d ever have the courage to try again?

They pulled on their sweater and followed Caretaker down the stairs, trying not to look too dejected. Maybe they deserved it. Maybe broken people like them were never meant to escape.