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runariya · 2 months ago

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The Auction (JJK) • Chapter 6 FINALE

pairing: wolf hybrid!Jungkook x cat hybrid!female reader genre: mafia!AU, hybrid!AU, dystopian!AU, S2L, dark romance, slow burn, angst rating: 18+, MDNI warnings: foul language, angst, being held hostage, obsession and possessiveness, fluff, smoking, OC's parents are still shit, scorpion hybrid (sorry angel, I had it already written lol), multiple murder, mentions of bodies, semi-graphic description of beating someone to death, blood, wounds, explicit sexual content, smut, oral (m. receiving), JK whines a lot but not sub, unprotected sex, marking and bonding, knotting, love confessions <3, lmk if I forgot smth word count: ~ 3K

a/n: This work is purely fictional. All characters and events are entirely imaginary and do not reflect reality. No translations are allowed without permission. Thank you for understanding! 💕

1 • 2 • 3 • 4 • 5 • masterlist

Three things.

There are three things you realised while living with Jungkook.

One—you’ll never, ever, under any circumstances, humiliate him again in public. Not because he doesn’t deserve it sometimes, but because it’s the dumbest and most dangerous thing you could do. Not just for him and his whole organisation, but for you too—it puts your life at risk.

Sure, him killing someone in that nightclub didn’t change much, but his friends seeing him like that, howling, has strained their relationship, and you’re not sure how he’s managed to keep them in line since. You know killing them off wouldn’t be an option to regain his control though.

Of course, you’d apologised to Jungkook more than once, and he brushed it off like it was nothing, like even though you’d hurt him, he’d still forgive you.

Which brings you to the second thing you realised.

As much of a lunatic as Jungkook is, he’s kind and loving to you. After the branding—that was the first and last time he hurt you physically—he’s never laid a hand on you again or said anything cruel. You still don’t fully understand why he feels the way he does about you, but you’ll get the answers out of him soon, once he emerges from his study to join you by the fireplace.

Just yesterday, you’d asked Jungkook if you could call your parents. To your surprise, he let you without much thought, but stayed right beside you, insisting the phone be on speaker so he could hear.

The call didn’t last long, no. After a few rings, your dad picked up, and you couldn’t help but cry and call his name, only for him to hang up straightaway. You tried again, but no one answered after that.

That’s when you knew Jungkook had been telling the truth all along. And that’s when you finally saw him for who he really is: someone whose only goal in life is to keep you safe and loved, even if it started in a way you hated.

“Don’t think about it,” Jungkook says, sitting down next to you, his arm draped behind you on the headrest as he kisses your temple.

“About you being whipped for me?”

“That you can think about.”

He pulls you close, and you lean into him, soaking in his warmth and scent. The penthouse is still too cold for you; you only feel warm when you’re near Jungkook or the fireplace. One day, you’ll have to ask him to turn up the heating a bit more.

“Jungkook?”

“Hm?”

“Why me?”

There’s an ease in the way you both speak, in how comfortable he seems, and you wonder if it’ll last. Jungkook knows exactly what you’re asking, like he always does, so there’s no hesitation in his voice as his hand moves absentmindedly, tracing soothing circles on your shoulder.

“You don’t remember, do you?”

“Remember what?”

Jungkook stares off, a nostalgic smile tugging at his lips as he lights a cigar.

“Beomseok’s little shop around that dodgy corner. You were sixteen, I think. Always working, every shift it seemed, just to help your shitty family when you should’ve been enjoying life.”

You sit up, startled that he knows about your past.

“One of the many times I stopped by, you cleared out the whole shelf because a bug got stuck in your fur or something.” He chuckles, as if picturing it. “And I helped you. Always did after that.”

“The scrawny boy in the black hoodie and face mask! That was you?”

“That was me.” He nods, locking eyes with you, his gaze full of adoration.

“You made my life so much better back then.” You smile, your hand moving up and down his thigh.

“Back then, I swore I wouldn’t drag you into my world, but I’d keep you safe. Neither worked out, clearly.”

“But I’m safe,” you cut in, unable to bear the sadness in his eyes.

“No, as long as you’re with me in this world, you’re not.”

“Jungkook, I am safe with you,” you insist, determined, because it’s true. You’ve never felt safer than when you’re with him. Not back then, and not now.

Jungkook just nods, as if he’s not entirely convinced but doesn’t want to argue. It’s enough for now, you reckon, and with a bit of courage, knowing you’ve never thanked him properly for all he did for you, you lean in just as he takes another puff of his cigar and kiss his cheek.

“Thanks for saving me, Jungkook.”

He smiles, pulls you against his chest, kisses the top of your head, and mumbles, “Anytime, love.”

You know Jungkook brought you catnip just yesterday when he came back from ‘work’. You also know it should be with your baking supplies, but there’s no trace of it now. You’ve been through every cabinet twice by this point, even pulled out all the tableware just to be sure. But nothing.

There’s no way you’re going out now to buy the ones you’ve been snacking on up until a few days ago, especially after learning from some TikTok that they’re unhealthy because of… well, you don’t even remember anymore. But you’ve looked up a recipe since, and you need to bake some asap before the withdrawal hits too hard.

Knowing Jungkook definitely knows where the catnip is, and that he’s currently two floors down—a floor he’s actually banned you from entering, though he did give you the passcode, your birthdate, in case of emergencies—you head straight for the lift, figuring this is the very definition of an emergency.

You’re shocked when you step out; the floor’s empty of furniture, the walls bare, like an unfinished building. Still, you make your way to the only visible door, soft grunts coming from behind it, and you reckon it’s just his gym.

You walk in without knocking—and freeze, eyes wide at the sight in front of you. It’s not a gym at all, but a floor dedicated to torture.

There are several dead, bloodied bodies off to the side, with Jimin standing nearby, his bored eyes fixed on the brutal scene unfolding before him.

A man’s tied to a chair, barely conscious, as Jungkook, his back to you, hammers down bloody fists over and over into the guy’s face.

It doesn’t take long for Jungkook to stop abruptly and turn, his eyes locking onto yours in shock, sensing your presence before he even hears you.

“Leave!”

But you can’t tear your gaze away from the scorpion hybrid slumped in the chair—the very man who sold you at the auction. Looking again at the bodies, you recognise each one of them now.

The one who kidnapped you and every single person you crossed paths with during your captivity.

“I said leave!” Jungkook barks again, but when you meet his eyes, it’s not anger you see—it’s worry.

You just shake your head, walking silently over to stand beside Jimin, who doesn’t dare say a word. Jungkook looks unsure, but when you give him a nod, something shifts in his expression, like a curtain falling over his very soul.

He turns back to his victim, fists resuming their precise rhythm, as if nothing had interrupted him in the first place.

You’d always thought watching Jungkook work would make you sick, would make you feel something. And while there’s still anger bubbling inside you at the sight of the men who wronged you, you don’t feel much of anything else. There’s not a single part of you that’s repulsed by the sight of death caused by Jungkook, not even at the blood or the life slowly draining from the man in front of you.

Jungkook’s assault isn’t anything dramatic, either—it’s like he’s training on a punching bag, nothing more. No show, no curses, no shouting—just the unrelenting, wet clap of fist meeting flesh.

With one final uppercut, it’s over. The sickening crack of the man’s neck rings out, and Jungkook stops, panting quietly, his body still as he stares at what he’s done—for you.

“Let’s go home, Jungkook,” you call softly.

“You *are* home!” he snaps.

“I am,” you reply, your voice and eyes loving as his gaze meets yours, finally registering your words.

Jungkook’s tense muscles relax at that, and with a single nod, he walks with you to the door, keeping a small distance as he instructs over his shoulder, “Take care of the rest.”

“Yes, boss.”

There’s nothing said on the way back to the penthouse, and you reckon Jungkook needs a minute to calm down, adrenaline still too prominent in his scent. His clothes are soaked in blood, the smell slightly bothering you now, but it’s the ticking of his jaw and the worry in his eyes that has you more concerned.

Sure, you can read him—his eyes and scent give him away without much thought—but you never fully know what’s going on inside. He’s the first to enter the bedroom, and before you’ve even had the chance to close the door, he’s already disappeared into the bathroom and locked the door behind him.

You leave him be for now, giving him space to literally wash away his sins before you need to talk, not about the catnip, but to finally tell him what he means to you, to thank him.

It doesn’t take long before Jungkook emerges from the bathroom, towel wrapped low around his hips, happy trail on display, and for a second, you lose track of what you wanted to say, though you quickly recover.

“Sit down,” you say, already perched on the bed.

He’s hesitant, you can see it in the way his eyes dart around, but he still obliges.

Again, he doesn’t sit right beside you, leaving a bit of space you can’t stand. So, you shuffle closer, taking his hands and inspecting the split knuckles. There aren’t many, and the few that are split are minor, probably because he’s used to this—knows how to throw a punch without hurting himself.

“Thank you, Jungkook.”

“It’s not enough.” He shakes his head.

“It is.”

“It’s not.”

You think for a moment, and then it hits you. “You are enough, Jungkook.”

His head snaps to you, searching your face for a lie that isn’t there.

“You are enough. This is enough. I want to stay. This is my home, and you’re right—I don’t hate you.”

Jungkook’s hand reaches for your face, cradling it softly, as if he needs to touch you to believe it’s real.

“I love you, Jungkook, and I’m sorry for being difficult.”

“You’re not, love, never were.”

There’s a moment for everything, and you reckon this is the moment you want to kiss him, to be kissed by him. You press your hands to his bare chest, leaning forward until your breaths mingle, barely any space left between your lips and his.

You see his eyelids flutter shut, and with that, you close the distance, capturing his soft upper lip. It feels like your life has finally clicked into place, like you’ve been waiting for this moment forever without knowing it.

You straddle his lap as your tongue plays with his, not in a battle for dominance but as equals, moaning softly into the kiss like a song composed by only you. Occasionally, a whine escapes his throat, and you don’t mind in the slightest, knowing it’s just his genes, just as your purring is from yours.

“Please touch me, Jungkook.”

This time, he listens, his hands cupping your ass and giving it a firm squeeze, pushing your clothed cunt against his hard-on. You want him, want him to claim you, so you speed up the process of undressing, not only yourself but finally pulling off the towel around his waist while kneeling between his legs.

Looking up, your purring louder now, you meet his dilated eyes, seeing your reflection in his pupils. He wants you just as much as you want him, and the knowledge feels so damn satisfying, you can’t help but wrap your tiny hands around his thick cock.

Jerking him off is easy, his precum already slicking his shaft, making your strokes smooth.

“Yes, kitten,” Jungkook breathes, his eyes never leaving yours, too captivated by what you’re doing to close them.

The sight of him has you practically drooling, unable to swallow the saliva pooling in your mouth. It’s your cue to take him properly. You stick out your tongue, licking from his balls to the tip, then taking him all the way into your mouth until you can’t breathe anymore. Your purring gets louder from the taste of him, drawing an approving moan from his lips.

“Fuck, you’re so good to me. So fucking good, kitten.”

Spurred on by his words, you try sucking from your throat rather than your mouth, massaging his tight balls with the excess saliva as you gag slightly from his size. It’s exactly what he wants, what he needs, his abs clenching as his breathing becomes ragged in seconds.

You feel invincible, like a goddess, taking him in like a champ, not stopping until he grabs your face and pulls you back, both hands cupping your cheeks.

“Enough,” he pants, his eyes burning into yours as he helps you up, too dazed to do it yourself.

Jungkook’s mouth is on yours in an instant when you fall onto the bed, not caring about his own taste as he devours you, his tongue tracing along your lips and neck. He pauses there, snapping out of his instincts for a second, as if he’s debating whether to mark you.

“Mark me,” you moan, your cunt grinding against his thigh, pulling his head closer by his hair.

Jungkook doesn’t respond with words. Instead, he kisses your neck, squeezing your tit, his fingers toying with your nipple.

You never tire of the sight of his back, the way his muscles flex with every movement of his head, while his touch sets every nerve ending on your body on fire.

“Let me love you right first,” he murmurs against your lips, lining up his cock with your soaked cunt and pushing inside as he kisses you.

The stretch and burn are familiar, but it’s different now, with him finally touching you, holding you. It’s not rushed or wild like it was when you fucked yourself on him before. It’s slow and loving, his thrusts deep until he’s buried fully inside you.

Jungkook doesn’t stop kissing you, doesn’t stop kneading your breasts as he picks up his pace, his cock sliding out just enough to keep you connected before thrusting back in, uniting your bodies over and over again.

You love this side of him, love every side of him, and it’s all you can manage to moan, his name like a prayer on your lips. Not knowing how long you’ll last, even though you never want it to stop, you grip his head, pushing him up slightly to meet your eyes.

His brows are furrowed, his rosey lips swollen and shiny, begging for more kisses, but you hold back for just a moment.

“Please mark me, Jungkook.”

“I won’t control you, kitten,” he pants, his thrusts not faltering.

“No, please bond with me.”

Jungkook almost collapses on top of you, his whine so loud it drowns out the wet sounds of his cock driving into you.

“You sure?”

“Yes,” you cry out as he hits just the right spot.

You expect him to go for it immediately, but instead, he kisses your neck again, taking his time, almost reverent in how he prepares to mark you.

He takes one last deep inhale of your scent before finally sinking his fangs into your neck, growling, “You’re mine.”

The added rush of arousal from his bite, combined with the way his hips move faster, has you seeing stars behind your eyelids. You hope Jungkook feels the same, wanting to share everything with him.

When he pulls back to admire the mark, he kisses you again, harder this time, the taste of your blood on his tongue not dampening the moment.

“Mark me too,” he moans against your lips, his sweat dripping down his perfect nose onto your face.

Your hand runs up his back, tangling in his hair as he exposes his neck for you, and you guide him closer to your mouth.

Taking a deep breath, his scent making you dizzier than ever, you sink your teeth into his neck—not because it’ll do anything permanent, just leaving small marks from your tiny canines—but it’s symbolic, and that’s all that matters for both of you.

“I love you,” he whines out, and it’s your bite that gives Jungkook the final push. His cock swells even more, his thrusts becoming irregular. “Where, love?”

“Inside!” You mewl, the added sensation of his cock growing inside you pushing you over the edge too, your legs wrapping tightly around his hips to keep him close.

“Fuck, ___, I love you so much,” Jungkook shudders, coming just as forcefully as he entered your life, nearly paralysing you with the sheer amount of cum filling you.

It’s the last push you need as your orgasm bursts with his, your cunt clenching around him like second nature.

Jungkook starts to pull out, but you hold him in like a vice, wanting him to knot you and affirm again that this is final. That he is your finality.

There’s not much said but the soft love confessions whispered against your lips and skin, not much done but lying together, basking in the safety and love you’ve found in each other.

1 • 2 • 3 • 4 • 5 • masterlist

a/n 2: tysm for reading and being patient with updates 🥹 lmk what you think in any way you like! Character asks and drabble requests for this fic are still open 💕

Check out my other work here!

taglist: @jksusawife, @kookiewithluv, @justjkkkkk, @staytinyville, @jaiuneamesolitaiire , @ericawantstoescape , @mjuser, @sp1derk0ok , @fluttershyvanilla, @lachimolalajeon , @holylonelyponyeatingmacaroni, @llallaaa , @m00njinnie , @passionandsuga , @scuzmunkie , @lerasi , @11thenightwemet11 , @bts-ruu , @metalheadfangirl2001 , @unadulteratedwitcher , @qmsvpx, @minghaosimp, @kittycatkrissa, @weareatthebadlands, @fluttershy-vanilla, @bangtannie7, @closer-to-jungkook, @dreamcatcherluvr, @blueofocean

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meazalykov · 16 days ago

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the call

lena oberdorf x bayern!reader

summary: the best day of your life turns into the worst

warnings: made up champions league results, angst, mentions of suicide!!!, death, mentions of depression, sibling loss, grief, ends with acceptance, this is fictional but please be warned before reading.

the roar of the stadium is deafening, the energy screaming through your entire body as the champions league final reaches its climax.

the evening lights above you are blinding, but you barely notice them. you barely notice anything except the ball at your feet and the defenders swarming in. your heart pounds, and your legs burn from the intensity of the game, but you’ve never felt more alive.

this is the moment you’ve dreamed of since you first laced up a pair of cleats. the moment that feels almost surreal, like you’re floating above the pitch, watching it all unfold.

bayern is facing chelsea in lisbon, and it’s been a grueling ninety minutes, plus extra time. 2-2 on the scoreboard, with only seconds left.

the final, the biggest game of your life, and everything rests on this moment.

your mind races. the game is balanced on a knife's edge, and you know that one moment could change everything. one goal could make or break your dream of lifting the trophy.

you’ve won the champions league before with lyon, but that was during a loan season you had with your last club. now, you hope to win the champions league with the club that has become your life. it gave you your love for football back, and it gave you the love of your life— lena.

you glance toward the sideline, where lena is warming up, ready to come on. she’s been out for months—acl and mcl surgery had taken her off the field for nearly a year, but she’s back.

today is only her second game since her return, and she’s been waiting for her moment again after getting the olympics taken away from her last summer..

the fourth official holds up the board for stoppage time as lena’s number flashes to replace pernille.

she jogs onto the pitch, subbed in for the last few minutes of the match, and despite everything, your heart skips a beat seeing her out there. she’s worked so hard to get here, and you’ve been by her side through all of it.

“let’s go,” she says as she passes you on the pitch, her voice filled with determination as she oats your shoulder. you nod, giving her a quick glance, the silent understanding between you both unspoken but clear.

the clock ticks into the 90th minute. chelsea pushes forward, looking for the winner, but bayern’s defense holds strong. you can feel the weight of the match pressing down on you as every second passes, the noise of the crowd swirling around you.

it’s chaos, and yet somehow, amidst it all, there’s clarity.

two minutes later, the ball is cleared out of the bayern box, and it falls to lena just outside the center circle. she controls it beautifully, despite the pressure, her eyes scanning the field. you see her look up, searching for you, and you know what’s coming. you sprint forward, weaving between chelsea defenders, creating the space you need.

your german girlfriend passes the ball up to you, her pass perfectly timed, splitting chelsea’s defense wide open. it’s as if time slows down, the noise of the crowd fading away until all you can hear is your own heartbeat pounding in your ears. you know exactly what you need to do.

this is instinct, muscle memory, all those hours of practice boiling down to a single strike.

with a quick glance at the goal, you see the opening. the chelsea keeper has shifted just slightly to her left, leaving a narrow space at the top right corner. without hesitation, you take the shot.

the ball leaves your foot with precision, spinning just right, and everything speeds up again. the roar of the crowd comes crashing back as the ball sails past the keeper’s outstretched fingers and buries itself in the back of the net.

goal!

for a moment, you’re frozen, unable to process what you’ve just done. then it hits you all at once. you’ve scored. in the champions league final. in the 92nd minute.

your teammates swarm you in seconds after you sprint to the corner of the pitch. you didn’t care about the yellow card you’re receiving by taking off your bayern jersey in celebration, something similar to what alexia putellas did in the last champions league final.

your teammates arms pull you into a tight embrace as you drop to your knees, overwhelmed by the flood of emotions.

joy, relief, disbelief—all of it crashes over you like a tidal wave. lena’s the first to reach you, her arms wrapping around you tightly, lifting you off the ground as she spins you around, her laughter mixing with yours.

“you fucking did it!” she shouts over the deafening noise of the crowd, her grin wide as she pulls back to look at you. her eyes are shining with pride and love, and for a brief moment, everything in the world is perfect.

you barely hear the final whistle over the chaos, but you feel it—the way your teammates explode with joy, the way the fans in the stands scream and chant your name.

bayern is champions. you’ve done it. you’ve helped your team lift the most prestigious trophy in european football.

as the confetti rains down, you stand in the center of it all, your heart still racing, trying to soak in every second of the celebration. your teammates are all around you, cheering, hugging, lifting the trophy.

your eyes scan the crowd, searching for something—or rather, someone.

your family.

you’d hoped—against all odds—that maybe, somehow, they’d made it. you’d imagined seeing their faces in the stands, cheering you on, sharing in this once-in-a-lifetime moment. but as your eyes search the sea of faces, there’s no one familiar.

no one from home.

you knew it was a long shot. they’re back in america, living their lives. it’s a long flight, and they’d have to take time off work, rearrange everything just to be here. but still, a part of you had hoped they would come. had hoped they’d make this a priority.

the ache in your chest grows as you realize they didn’t. they didn’t come.

you try to push the disappointment away, focusing on the celebrations, on the fact that you’ve just won the champions league. this should be the happiest moment of your life. you should be on top of the world.

there’s a small, nagging emptiness that you can’t shake. the one thing you wanted, more than anything else, was to see your family here, in the stands, sharing this with you.

you take a deep breath, plastering a smile on your face as you turn back to the celebrations. you’ll deal with this later. you’ll process it when the confetti’s gone and the lights are dim.

lena’s family, though, is here. her parents, her siblings—they’ve made the trip, and they’re in the stands now, cheering and waving, just as excited as the bayern fans. as you make your way over to them, lena beside you, her hand warm in yours, her family’s faces light up. her mom is the first to reach out, pulling you into a tight hug.

“y/n! oh my god, you were amazing!” her mom gushes, her arms squeezing you so tight you almost can’t breathe.

“thank you,” you manage, smiling as you hug her back.

“i’m just so glad we won!”

“we’re so proud of you,” her dad says, clapping you on the shoulder with a grin.

“that goal—you had us on the edge of our seats!”

“you’re like a third daughter to me,” her mom continues, pulling back to look at you, her eyes warm.

“we love you, and we couldn’t be prouder.”

you nod, swallowing the lump in your throat as their words sink in. they mean it. they really do. you’re part of their family, and in this moment, they’ve made you feel like you belong here.

no matter how much love they show you, no matter how much they treat you as one of their own, the absence of your own family still lingers like a shadow over the night.

“thank you,” you say again, your voice a little quieter this time.

you stay with them for a while longer, lena’s arm around your waist, her thumb tracing soft circles on your hip. she knows. she always knows when something’s bothering you, even if you don’t say it.

for now, she lets you have your moment with her family, understanding that you need this, that you need to feel like you belong somewhere tonight.

eventually, the celebrations wind down, and the exhaustion of the day starts to settle into your bones. the adrenaline begins to fade, leaving you drained, physically and emotionally. all you want is to get back to the hotel with lena, collapse into bed, and let the day finally sink in.

“ready to go?” lena asks, her hand still in yours as you both start making your way toward the exit.

“yeah,” you sigh, glancing around one last time at the stadium.

“let’s go.”

just as you reach the lobby, your coach approaches you, his face serious in a way that immediately sets off alarm bells in your mind.

“y/n,” he says quietly, his tone careful, like he’s trying to brace you for something.

“can i talk to you for a minute?”

you glance at lena, confusion and concern flashing across her face as she looks back at you. you nod at her, squeezing her hand before letting go.

“i’ll be right back,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady.

you’re nervous. you scored the goal needed to win the champions league final. was alex going to tell you that you made a mistake? was he going to tell you that bayern isn’t renewing their contract with you? you know that's not possible, you already agreed to a three year extension.

following your coach to a quiet corner of the lobby, your heart starts to race again. this time, it’s not from the excitement of the game. something’s wrong. you can feel it.

“what’s going on?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

he hesitates for a moment, his eyes searching yours before he finally speaks.

“there’s been an emergency,” he says, his voice low, almost apologetic. “back home with your family.”

your stomach drops. the room feels like it’s closing in around you, the air suddenly too thick to breathe.

“what kind of emergency?” you ask, your voice shaking now.

he pauses again, and you know—before he even says the words—you know.

“it’s your younger sister,” he says softly.

“according to your agent– she… she passed away.”

you feel like the floor has dropped out from under you. everything around you blurs, the world spinning as your brain struggles to process the words. your sister. passed away.

“no,” you whisper, shaking your head as if that will make it untrue.

“no, that can’t be right.”

“i’m so sorry, y/n,” your coach says, his voice heavy with sorrow.

“i have to tell you before you find out from anyone else by following bayern’s protocol– your sister passed away from suicide.”

the word hits you like a physical blow, knocking the breath from your lungs. you can’t think, can’t breathe, can’t do anything except stand there, frozen in place as the reality of what he’s just said crashes over you.

suicide.

your sister is gone.

“no…” the word leaves your lips in a broken sob as you crumble, your legs giving out beneath you. your coach catches you, helping you to sit on a nearby bench, but you barely feel his hands on your shoulders. you barely feel anything at all.

how can this be real? how can she be gone?

you don’t know how long you sit there, numb, before lena is suddenly by your side, her arms wrapping around you, her voice soft in your ear.

“oh my god, y/n,” she whispers, her voice thick with emotion.

“i’m so sorry, baby. i’m so, so sorry.”

you cling to her, your tears soaking into her shirt as the sobs wrack your body. your mind is spinning, grief and disbelief tearing through you like a storm.

your mind didn’t allow you to deny it. your younger sister suffered from depression for a long time.

the weight of your coach’s words crashes down on you like a wave, pulling you under, suffocating you. your younger sister, gone. the word “suicide” echoes in your mind, each syllable like a knife cutting deeper and deeper into your chest.

your entire body feels numb, but your heart is racing, your mind spinning out of control as you try to grasp the reality of what you’ve just been told.

lena’s arms wrap around you, holding you tightly as you break down, but even her warmth can’t reach the depth of the hollow ache that’s taken over your chest. it’s all too much. the best night of your life—scoring the equalizer in the champions league final—has been shattered into the worst nightmare you could have ever imagined.

your sister. your baby sister.

“no,” you whisper, the word barely audible as the sobs start to break through your chest.

“this can’t be real. this can’t be happening.”

lena doesn’t say anything, her hand running through your hair, holding you as you crumble into her.

“i’m so sorry,” she whispers softly, her voice breaking.

“i have to go home,” you choke out between sobs, the words thick in your throat.

“i need to go home. i have to… i have to be with my family.”

“i’m coming with you,” lena says, her voice firm but gentle.

“no,” you protest, shaking your head weakly.

“you need to stay. this is your career, you’re coming back from nearly a year long injury, i can handle this on my own.”

you don’t even believe yourself. you don’t know how you’re going to handle this, how you’ll survive the tidal wave of grief that’s already threatening to drown you. still, you try to fight it, the guilt in your chest whispering that you don’t deserve her support right now.

“y/n,” lena says, cupping your face in her hands, forcing you to meet her gaze. her eyes are red with unshed tears, but there’s a fierce determination in them.

“you’re not going through this alone. i’m coming with you. end of discussion.”

you want to argue, but you can’t. the grief is too heavy, the shock too deep. you nod, collapsing back into her embrace, because you don’t have the strength to push her away.

the next few days blur together. the long, silent flight back to america, the weight of every message from your family, the funeral plans, the condolences pouring in from people who don’t know the depth of your pain. nothing makes sense.

it’s as if the world has stopped spinning, and you’re left standing in the wreckage, trying to make sense of it all.

when you finally arrive at your family home, your older sister is the one waiting for you. the moment you see her, the dam inside you breaks all over again. her face is pale, her eyes hollow, and you can see the weight of grief on her shoulders, but there’s something more there—something you don’t want to acknowledge yet.

“y/n,” she whispers as she pulls you into a tight embrace, her body shaking against yours.

“god, i’m so sorry you had to find out the way that you did.”

“what happened?” you ask, your voice cracking as you pull back to look at her. you haven’t been able to bring yourself to ask this yet—too scared of the answers. but now, standing in front of her, you need to know.

being the middle child, you had your older sister to lean onto. your brain doesn’t want to believe that its just the two of you now, not three.

your older sister hesitates, her eyes filling with tears as she struggles to find the words. she swallows hard, and you can tell she’s been trying to hold it together for everyone else, but now, in front of you, she’s breaking.

“i found her,” she says softly, her voice trembling.

“i was the one who found her, y/n.”

the words hit you like a freight train, your legs almost giving out beneath you. your older sister. the one who always tried to protect you both. she was the one who walked into that room. you can’t even imagine the horror of it, the moment she saw your baby sister like that.

“how?” you ask, your voice barely a whisper, though you’re not sure you really want to hear the answer.

your sister takes a deep, shaky breath.

“she… she poisoned herself in her bedroom. the bottles were everywhere. i-i was supposed to meet her for lunch. when she didn’t answer, i went over, and…”

her voice cracks, and the sobs finally break through. you reach out to her, but your hands are shaking so much that you don’t know if you’re comforting her or yourself. the guilt presses down on your chest like a thousand-pound weight, suffocating you.

“we didn’t know she was hurting like this,” your sister continues, her voice thick with tears.

“we thought she was getting better. she didn’t want to talk about it, didn’t want us to worry. but, y/n… the note said it because of soccer– because of her injury.”

her words stop you cold. “soccer?”

your sister nods, tears streaming down her face.

“she couldn’t make it. she didn’t get the contracts due to her spine. she thought she wasn’t good enough. she thought she was a failure.”

the guilt hits you harder than anything you’ve ever felt before, crushing you under its weight. you suddenly felt like your success, your career—everything you’ve worked for—had been killing her.

you were living her dream, and it had destroyed her. the very thing that had made your life complete had shattered hers.

“this is my fault,” you whisper, barely able to get the words out.

“i should have known. i should have… i should have been there.”

“no,” your sister says quickly, shaking her head, her hands gripping your arms.

“it’s not your fault, y/n. you couldn’t have known.”

you can’t hear her. you can’t hear anything over the roar of guilt and grief pounding in your ears. your baby sister had been suffering, and you hadn’t seen it. she had felt like she wasn’t enough, like she was a failure because she didn’t make it in soccer, and you had been too focused on your own career to notice her pain.

“she told me once,” your sister continues, her voice trembling,

“that she wished she could be as good as you. that she wished she could make it, too. she didn’t blame you once, y/n. she was just struggling. she didn’t want to burden anyone with how bad it had gotten.”

the words twist the knife in your chest. you should have noticed. you should have known. how could you have missed it? how could you have let her feel so alone in her pain?

“i was too focused on myself,” you whisper, the tears spilling down your cheeks as the realization crashes over you.

“i was too focused on my career, on making it, and i didn’t see that she needed me while I moved to france then germany. i didn’t see how much she was hurting.”

“y/n, stop,” your sister says, her voice desperate as she pulls you into another hug.

“you can’t blame yourself. this isn’t your fault.”

you do. how can you not? you were the one living her dream. you were the one playing at the top, while she struggled to find her place after injuring her spine. how can you not feel like you were the reason she’s gone?

the funeral feels like a blur. you stand by your sister’s grave, lena at your side, her hand gripping yours tightly as they lower the casket into the ground.

this was final. her death was final. there she will lay until the end of time.

the sobs choke you, but no matter how many tears you shed, it doesn’t feel like it will ever be enough to ease the guilt gnawing away at you.

“i should’ve been there for her,” you whisper to lena, your voice barely audible as you stare at the grave.

“i should’ve seen the signs.”

lena wraps her arms around you, pulling you into her warmth, but even that can’t break through the storm of grief.

“you couldn’t have known, y/n. she didn’t let anyone in.”

“i was supposed to protect her,” you say, your voice cracking as the tears spill down your face again.

“i was her big sister. she looked up to me, and i wasn’t there when she needed me.”

lena holds you tighter, her voice soft in your ear.

“you can’t carry that weight, love. you didn’t know.”

you do carry it. the guilt settles deep in your bones, a constant reminder that while you were out there living your dream, your sister was suffering in silence. the pain of it tears through you like a storm, and no matter how many people tell you it’s not your fault, you can’t shake the feeling that you should’ve done more.

three months after the funeral, the international break comes sooner than you expected. after a tough preseason and the emotional turmoil of the past few months, you’re finally called up to represent your country again, this time in the united states.

lena, too, gets the call for germany, her first time back with the national team since her acl and mcl injuries. it’s a bittersweet feeling—being away from her after spending all that time together, healing both physically and emotionally.

your girlfriend might have the chance to play in the 2025 euros, and you're so proud of her. honestly, you hope that you'll be able to watch her play and reach the final again-- this time winning.

you know how important this is for her. she needs this. she needs her space to shine again, to remind herself that she’s still capable of greatness.

"i’ll miss you, but you need this,” you tell her before leaving, cupping her face in your hands.

"just take care of that knee, okay?"

lena smiles, her hand gently covering yours.

“i will. and you better score some goals while i’m gone.”

you both laugh, though there’s a tinge of sadness underneath. as much as you’ve leaned on her through your grief, you’re learning to stand on your own again. so, you board the plane to the states, knowing this break will be good for both of you.

it’s strange, being back in america. the last time you were here, it was for your sister’s funeral. this time, it’s different. this time, you’re playing for something—something that feels bigger than you.

your heart pounds as you step onto the miami pitch for the match against australia, the lights of the stadium casting long shadows over the grass.

you can feel the weight of your sister’s absence, but in a way, it also feels like she’s there with you, watching from somewhere far beyond. well, if you believe in that of course.

the match against australia is high-energy, with the crowd cheering from the first whistle. you’ve been waiting for this moment—an opportunity to step onto the field again, to do what you love.

today, there’s something different about the way you play. today, every step, every touch of the ball is charged with emotion, with memories of your sister.

in some ways, you're playing more aggressively than usual. this might be a way for you to physically take some of the pain away.

your passes are sharp and harsh, but not sloppy. in fact, they're accurate and perfect. a 100% pass rate on the charts.

early in the first half, the game is still scoreless. you’re playing in the midfield, controlling the pace, looking for openings.

in the 20th minute, you spot one—a quick exchange with mallory and suddenly you’re in space. you sprint down the left side, cutting inside to avoid australia’s defenders.

the ball comes back to your feet just outside the box. without hesitating, you take a powerful shot before ellie had the chance to stop you. the ball curls past the keeper into the top right corner of the net.

it’s a beautiful strike, clean and precise. the crowd erupts, you feel the rush of exhilaration, but your mind is elsewhere.

you raise both your hands as you reach the corner of the pitch, pointing to the sky. your other hand goes to your ear, like you’re holding a phone, like you’re calling her.

you hope she’s listening. the gesture is for your sister, the first goal of the game dedicated to her.

the tears in your eyes wanted to fall, but they didn't. your teammates surrounded you in hugs and you took that moment to wipe your eyes from the public as your friends gave you praises.

everyone knew about your sister's death. people who went to your sister's college and witnessed the spinal injury that led to her downfall were hurt by the news.

the whole community was grieving, and everyone wanted to find peace with it.

as the match goes on, you feel that familiar rhythm settle in. by the second half, your team is up 1-0, but you’re still hungry for more.

in the 58th minute, the opportunity comes again. you’re in the box this time, just off a corner kick. the ball is bouncing around in the chaos, defenders scrambling to clear it, but it lands at your feet. with a quick flick, you volley it toward the goal. the keeper dives, but it’s too late—the ball slips under her arm and into the net. your second goal of the match.

you look at sam coffey-- the closest teammate to you. you hug her and the rest of the teammates who run up to you, happy to see you thriving in such a hard time.

after everyone goes back to their positions, breaking the group hug, you look at the cameras and hold up the number six. one finger on your left hand and all five fingers with your right hand.

your younger sister’s number before she was forced to stop playing.

the fans noticed that every goal is for her, for your sister who can’t be here to see you play. you hope she’s watching. you hope she knows how much you miss her.

the third goal comes in the 85th minute. you’re tired now, the heat of the match wearing you down, but you push through, determined to finish strong.

emma asked if you needed a break from the pitch, but you tell her no. you needed this.

the ball comes to you on a fast break, your team surging forward after a clearance. you sprint down the center, your heart pounding in your chest, the crowd’s roar fueling you. just as you reach the edge of the box, you receive a perfect pass from emily. you take one touch, then another, before sliding the ball past the onrushing keeper and into the bottom left corner.

hat trick.

the stadium erupts, your teammates rush toward you, but once again, your celebration is quiet.

you point to the sky, your hand pressed to your ear like you’re making that call again, the one you’ll never get to make.

your sister should be here. she should be watching this-- no.. she should be playing with you now, living this with you.

instead, all you have are these moments, these gestures that feel like whispers into the void.

after the game, when the final whistle blows and your team celebrates the 3-0 victory over australia, you’re pulled aside for an interview.

the camera’s on you, the reporter asking about your performance, about your goals, and for the first time, you decide to speak openly about your sister.

“i’ve been playing with her on my mind,” you say, your voice steady but heavy with emotion.

“my sister… she loved football more than anyone i’ve ever known. she was determined, sweet, and had the best sense of humor. she made everyone laugh. i’ve been playing for her, trying to honor her in any way i can.”

you don’t cry during the interview, but your chest aches. it’s clear to anyone watching how deeply you miss her, how much you wish she could be here. the reporter doesn’t press for more, understanding the weight of what you’ve shared, and you’re grateful for that.

it feels like a release, finally speaking her name, telling the world what she meant to you.

later that night, back at the hotel, your phone rings. it’s lena. she’s calling from germany, where it’s 5:30 a.m. while it’s only 11:30 p.m. for you in the states. you know she’s probably exhausted after germany’s game against norway, but you answer, grateful to hear her voice.

“hey,” lena says, her voice soft, tired but filled with warmth.

“i saw your game. a hat trick, huh?”

you smile, leaning back against the pillows. “yeah. it felt good. i… i dedicated them to her. i talked about her in the interview.”

there’s a pause on the other end, and you can hear lena’s breathing, steady and comforting.

“i’m so proud of you, y/n. i know she would be too.”

“i think so,” you say quietly, your chest tight with emotion.

“i’m okay, lena. i feel okay.”

you can hear the relief in her voice when she replies,

“i’m glad. i wish i could be there with you.”

“soon,” you whisper, closing your eyes.

“we’ll be together soon.”

after the international break, you return to germany, ready to play for bayern once again. something feels different now. there’s still grief, still moments when the weight of your sister’s absence threatens to pull you under, but there’s also a sense of peace.

acceptance.

you’re learning to live with the loss, to carry her memory with you in a way that feels lighter, more bearable.

when you return to germany, stepping off the plane and feeling the familiar chill of the air, you can sense that something inside you has shifted. it’s subtle, not a sudden transformation, but a quiet understanding that the weight you’ve been carrying has begun to ease.

you still miss your sister. you will always miss her.

after the international break, after scoring that hat trick and speaking about her for the first time publicly, there’s a sense of release, a small spark of acceptance beginning to form.

it doesn’t come all at once. when you arrive back at bayern’s training ground, the routine feels both comforting and daunting. the familiar faces of your teammates greet you, their smiles and hugs filled with warmth. some of them had seen your interview after the australia game. they know what you’ve been going through, at least on some level.

they don’t push you to talk, but their quiet support is always there, whether it’s in a gentle hand on your back after a tough drill or a knowing glance across the field.

training is tough—intense, even. the season is approaching fast, and the pressure to perform is ever-present. but for the first time in a long while, you feel more connected to the game, more present in your body, and less haunted by the thoughts that used to cloud your every move on the pitch.

you start to find joy in playing again, not just as an escape, but as a way to honor your sister. every pass, every shot, every tackle feels like a small tribute to her, a way of keeping her close without letting the grief consume you.

there are still hard days. days when you wake up and the weight of her absence presses down on you before you even step out of bed. you think about how much she loved football, how it was her dream to be where you are now, and that familiar guilt creeps back in.

lena is there, always grounding you, reminding you that your sister would want you to keep going, to keep playing, to live the life she couldn’t.

on one of those hard days, you’re at the training ground, going through drills, and your mind wanders. you think about her injury—how it wasn’t just a setback but the end of her dream. a spinal injury, something so unexpected, so final.

she never had a chance to recover, never had a chance to fight for her place like you’ve been able to. she was so young, 19 years old– and it was taken from her, just like that. and then, when the depression set in, it wasn’t just the injury anymore—it was the loss of everything she had ever wanted.

the loss of her future.

you push through the drills, the sweat dripping down your face as you try to focus on the here and now. it’s hard. your thoughts are swirling, and you can feel the familiar tightness in your chest, the way grief sneaks up on you when you least expect it.

after training, you sit alone on the bench, staring out at the pitch, lost in thought. the sun is setting, casting long shadows across the field, and for a moment, you let yourself sit with the grief.

you don’t push it away this time. you let it wash over you, feeling the sadness, the guilt, the love you had for your sister. but there’s something else there too—a quiet acceptance. a small voice inside you that whispers, “she’s not suffering anymore.”

it’s that thought that brings you peace, however fleeting. you know your sister struggled, that her depression was a battle she couldn’t win. as much as you wish you could’ve done more, could’ve been there for her in ways you weren’t, you also know that her pain is over now.

she’s at peace, even if you’re still finding your way through the aftermath.

lena finds you on the bench later that evening, after most of the team has left. she sits beside you without saying anything for a long time, just her presence beside you, solid and comforting. eventually, she speaks, her voice soft in the quiet of the evening.

“you’ve been different since the break,” she says, her eyes watching the last bit of daylight disappear behind the trees.

“stronger, in a way.”

you nod, not sure how to put everything into words. “i think… i think i’m starting to accept it,” you say, your voice quiet but steady.

“i’m never going to stop missing her, but i can’t let it break me anymore. she wouldn’t want that.”

lena reaches for your hand, her fingers lacing with yours.

“no, she wouldn’t. she’d want you to live, y/n. to play. to be happy.”

the next few weeks pass in a blur of preparation for the season. as the first matches approach, you throw yourself into your training, focusing on your fitness, your sharpness, everything you need to be at your best.

as the days go by, you start to feel more like yourself again. not the version of you before your sister’s death—that person is gone, changed by the grief and loss—but a new version of yourself.

someone who carries the weight of that loss but also the strength that comes with surviving it.

before the season opener, you have a moment alone in the locker room, lacing up your boots and staring down at the bayern crest on your jersey. the nerves are there, the familiar pre-game tension, but there’s something else too—a quiet determination.

this season is going to be different. not because you’re trying to outrun your grief, but because you’re choosing to carry it with you, to let it fuel you, to let it remind you of the love you had for your sister.

when you step onto the pitch for the first game, the crowd roars, and the energy in the stadium is electric. you feel it in your chest, the adrenaline, the excitement, but also the weight of everything you’ve been through.

the game begins, and as soon as the ball is at your feet, it’s like muscle memory. you’re back in your element, weaving through defenders, finding your teammates, playing the game you love.

you’re not playing for anyone else now, not for the expectations or the pressure. you’re playing for her. for the sister who loved football more than you ever could, who would’ve given anything to be in your shoes.

and for the first time in a long while, it feels right.

as the season progresses, you find yourself healing, little by little. there are still moments when the grief hits hard, when the memories sneak up on you, but you’ve learned how to live with it. you’ve learned how to carry it without letting it crush you.

you and lena spend more quiet evenings together, just talking, reflecting, or sometimes sitting in comfortable silence. she’s been your anchor through all of this, and you know that you couldn’t have made it through without her.

one night, after a particularly tough match, you’re both lying in bed, the exhaustion from the game settling into your bones. lena is tracing lazy patterns on your back, her touch soothing, grounding.

“do you think she’s proud of you?” lena asks quietly, her voice soft in the dim light of the room.

you think about it for a moment, feeling the familiar ache in your chest, but this time, it’s not as sharp. it’s bittersweet, but it’s bearable.

“yeah,” you whisper, a small smile tugging at your lips. “i think she is.”

you close your eyes, lena’s warmth beside you, and for the first time in a long time, you feel at peace.

authors note: please inbox me if you're ever struggling or need someone to talk to. you're loved, I love you, and the world is a better place with you here in it.

masterlist

#lena oberdorf #lena oberdorf x reader #woso fanfics #woso community #woso x reader #gerwnt #bayern frauen

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szkunas · 6 months ago

Text

WANNA BET? ౨ৎㅤ suguru geto.

synopsis / premise ♱ㅤ when a lustful spirit comes across suguru geto’s path, the curse user must sacrifice his pride and dignity for a chance to obtain its power. but you won’t make it easy for him, will you?

featuring ♱ㅤ cursed spirit!FEM!reader X suguru geto (2017 / jjk 0 ver.)

warnings ♱ㅤ NSFW ♡︎ ㅤ spectrophilia ! monsterfucking (?) ! DEATH (not on any of them) + BLOOD ! EATING HUMAN FLESH (not cannibalism!) ! dub-con (both consent, but it involves a dangerous bet, so just to stay safe) ! sub and dom dynamics constantly changing (both switchers) but reader is usually domming ! unprotected sex + unrealistic portraits of sex ! creampie ! power dynamics ! rough sex / “hate” sex ! degradation + praise ! WORD COUNT: 4990.

author’s note ♱ㅤthank you for everyone who's enjoying and supporting my work! i love you all and i hope you like this piece as well. this is inspired by the poll i made a long while ago. the people asked, and they shall have it! despite it not being yandere character, be sure the next fics will fix that! <3

p.s — i write smut very rarely. i feel it's a little bland and ill probably avoid writing it for a little while lol. despite that, i hope you enjoy it nonetheless

BETTING WITH CURSES is always a dangerous ── not to say stupid ── idea. their conceptions are more violent and sadistic than those of humans, and they have little (or no) notion of mortality. they revel in the gushing blood, the failure, and the deadly despair that initially gave rise to them. therefore, it is uncommon for even the most experienced curse users to engage in this type of activity. but geto doesn’t know the meaning of fear. it became unfamiliar to him, like he always wished. curses are just the accumulated filth of non-sorcerers. and a god fears neither the insects beneath him nor the remains they produce.

the cult provides a good amount of spirits, with that rotten taste that is impossible to disguise. no matter how much spice or food is eaten afterward, it is always terrible, but today it goes down his throat much more easily. as much as it’s a good facade, gathering followers and getting a good reserve of curses to form the night parade of a hundred demons, it’s not enough.

all the spirits he consumes recently are mediocre grade 4s. sometimes a grade 3, or if he is extremely lucky, a grade 2. but it has become a rare occasion, and the spirits of non-sorcerers are as weak as their mediocre progenitors.

he doesn’t have enough, and if things go this way, he will have more of an amalgamation of weak and useless spirits than spirits strong enough to distract the sorcerers and help him fight his true goal. therefore, his free days, when not spent with his daughters and his fixation on crêpes, are used to hunt cursed spirits. usually, his followers help with this. the loyal sorcerers see each other as family, and are willing to work for the new world as much as he does. it doesn’t matter how much blood or sweat it takes, it doesn’t matter if he’s not alive to see it all, after all. no more being oppressed by insects. the true species must rise, and the time is coming.

patience, he tells himself. but haste is a curse of its own that affects every man at some point in his existence, making him lose himself in his tasks and concentrations. as he reclines on himself in what could be called the throne room, suguru watches as some of his fellow sorcerer help one of their own. he quickly approaches the confusion.

a woman with a flushed face and heavy breathing, one hand on her chest as if she was about to have a heart attack. sweat pours off her in a rush, as if her body is burning from the inside out. it’s rare that they don’t come back with even one spirit (as mediocre as it is, a curse is a curse, and he can’t afford to be selective at this point). then, suguru frowns. part of him genuinely cares, in a way he never could, if this woman didn’t have a technique.

“what’s the matter? i thought you were going after the spirit near shinjuku.”

“we were.” one of them answers. “but that thing is a beast. you can’t get close without feeling completely lost and attracted. it’s like a fog that enters your nose and mouth and consumes you from the inside. we nearly died. we can’t handle that, master geto. we apologize.”

he sighs, looking over at the poor woman. there’s something visibly wrong with her right now. her heart seems shaken by a powerful force, and this makes geto think that he shouldn’t underestimate this curse in question.

she looks around and practically latches onto any man she can see — even kissing a guy’s neck while he blushes and gently pulls her away. is it some kind of spirit that manipulates attraction? this is particularly dangerous for him. even though he is, well, him, suguru is still a man. the flesh is weak, and perhaps this curse will become a huge headache to deal with.

however, it could become one of his best weapons.

if a spirit like this keeps causing problems in kyoto, he will have more time to do what needs to be done in tokyo. he can already think about it — whatever form this spirit has, having sorcerers under their thumb. crushing their heads and buying him precious seconds to take care of his business. he can only imagine how the poor sorcerers will react, attracted to a beast.

“don’t worry about that anymore.” he assures the cult members, which turn their heads to him. their leader, their god. the one who’s going to make them rise to a new world. his voice is filled with the grace and confidence he usually has on his tone. but also something else.

determination. raw and pure.

“i will deal with the cursed spirit in shinjuku myself. please watch over mimiko and nanako while i’m gone. i will need just a few hours.”

while humans are extremely annoying, they have their uses. somehow. spirits like you, of thunderous strength, also have thunderous desires. technically, curses don’t need to eat, sleep, or reproduce like humans do. your existence and body made of pure cursed energy coursing through your veins transcends the need for these chores. but like everything that is unnecessary, it is not necessarily impossible. that’s why, as a curse, you know how to use what you have to attract victims. legends about women who attract men with their beauty and turn on them like vipers are very common. the idea of comfort turning to horror ── resting in the arms of a beautiful goddess only to discover that she is a beast shaped like a beauty ── is something that has generated many curses. just like you.

your long tongue curls around your fingertips, trying to absorb the blood that rests there. the body of the last unlucky person who came to try to get you rests at the foot of the motel room bed. it’s not difficult to blend in with humans, and sorcerers come to you like bees looking for honey. while sucking the blood from your fingers, your eyes look up to the dim lamp in the room. the moths accumulate, beating against the light and surrounding it desperately. your body stands up and walks out of the room while arranging your kimono sloppily over your shoulders. if you turn off a light, the moths are lost, without hope. their lives are all about chasing dangerous things. they are attracted to the light of a flame, following this wonderful source of illumination without knowing that it will lead to their death. just as mortal men (and women) allow you to do.

the body stays behind, not that it’s important. the others can’t see you, which means all they know is that a man walked into a room alone, and died inside. eviscerated and devoured as if destroyed by a modern movie zombie. your steps guide you away from cheap construction, and that’s a relief. the reception smells like mold, and the employee is more focused on playing solitaire than looking at whoever enters. the cold night air hitting you would be a problem if your stomach wasn’t full and well refreshed with warm blood. and, at the entrance to the parking lot, a man approaches. so he can see you. it wouldn’t be the first time a young guy approached you, hungry for some. you try to hide the blood in your hands.

you devour the hearts of humans, just as they would like to devour you (in other senses). however, he looks… different from the usual men you see around. high energy levels, as well as clearly being a sorcerer. he doesn’t look very old, maybe in his late twenties. this means that he doesn’t have as much experience as older men, but he is no amateur at sorcery. just as you fill yourself with meat, he also consumes something. you can’t tell just by looking, and it’s as disturbing as it is interesting.

okay, you’re full. but there’s always room for another one. especially a looker like this.

“mm, hey, handsome.” you purr, smiling cutely as you rest your hand on your waist.

“spare me. i know what you are capable of and what you really want. i’m not going to be your next meal, curse.” he smirks, circling around you.

well, that’s a fascinating twist. it reminds you of how many sorcerers have said the exact same thing, and in the end it ended up just becoming your dinner. however, this man seems less— consumable than the rest, but no less attractive.

the idea of eating him saddens you, because then you would lose him forever. not being able to see that pretty face after you eat it out of spite… it would be tragic. but maybe there’s a way of having fun, while still getting something out of him.

you lick your lips at the thought.

okay, this could be the opportunity you’ve been waiting for. a tall, handsome man with a large amount of cursed energy? he’s the kind of guy you don’t let get away. after so many snacks, a careful look always captures a good and complete meal. but perhaps you can do much more than devour him. it’s the kind of chance every girl dreams of ── in your own twisted and sadistic way, of course.

“can i get your name, handsome? or do i have to keep on the petname basis?” you tease, smirking softly.

he walks around you like a shark circles tasty prey. this cat and mouse game would scare away any other curse, this sorcerer doesn’t seem like the kind of guy to play with, which makes the interest you have in him doubled. your eyes follow his every movement.

“and while we’re questioning each other, what do you want? a fight?”

“i’m suguru geto. and what i want is very simple.” he steps closer, but you don’t budge, instead raising your chin despite the attitude. that makes his eyes widen softly and suguru scoffs. was he expecting you to be intimidated? “you.”

okay, that answer itself is not unusual for you ── many others have said the same thing to answer the very same question ──, but the new dynamic and opportunity this man presents is. an idea blooms in your mind like a poisonous flower: beautiful, but lethal if touched. it doesn’t look dangerous, it looks attractive and vibrant, but it is. and you are about to apply this in the most intense way you can imagine. a new thing, a new idea.

and like every creature beyond mortality, routine is boring and boring is despising for you. new things are exciting, captivating. he’s interesting.

“why don’t we make a small bet, hm? geto.”

he raises one eyebrow, interested. “i’m listening. and, please. call me suguru.”

the motel isn’t a very suitable destination — apparently, it’s not proper to go to a place where a corpse is —, but an empty apartment that a cult sponsor bought for him will do. suguru and you walk around while pulling up casual conversation and flirtation. everything seems surprisingly chill. maybe in another life, you two could be friends. maybe even with benefits? or— perhaps something else.

he doesn’t think your personality is bad, per see, but again. you seduce and eat mortals easily. maybe you’re just tricking him into lowering his guard. maybe in another life, you’re a pretty little thing who hugs his arm and allows him to take you home with genuine, good intentions. maybe in another life, you could like him genuinely. and he could like you back.

but you two don’t live another life — only this one. so, he’ll settle.

you’re barely past the door and he feels your lips on his. he smirks, grabbing you by the hair to pull you closer. it’s supposed to be an easy tatic — seducing you. he can absorb curses of grades that are at least two lower than his, or… any curse that surrenders.

as your tongue swirls around his, suguru feels a shiver run down his spine. you taste so— unbelievably sweet. nothing like any other one he’s every tasted. the sound of kissing takes over the apartment as you stumble over your feet to the bed.

this might be harder than he initially thought.

the bet is simple, somewhat. you will compete in something, your choice. whoever wins has complete control of the loser. which means — he wins, you’ll become one of his curses. you win? he’s yours. forever. whatever that means, you made that clear. you both explained your expectations and what you wanted from the other, deciding for a biding vow.

the competition you chose was sex. basically, whoever cums first loses.

and for some reason, suguru feels like he shouldn’t lose. he’s not sure what you’ll do with him once “he’s yours”, but he feels like it wouldn’t be a very opportune time for him.

you move to kiss his cheek, jawline, and neck. suguru sighs while throwing his head back. “you’re— eager.” he murmurs with a soft hiss. “i’ve never been with something like you, so, forgive me if i’m shy.”

he can feel the way you smirk against his skin, before you start sucking down and biting. he grabs you by the hair to pull you away, relishing in your flushed expression and how your voice sounds when you yelp.

“no hickeys, no bites. i’m not yours to mark, curse.” his fingers wrap themselves around your hair tightly to get the message across. your tongue slips out, long and eagerly licking your lips as you watch him. like a lion watching a zebra, about to feast.

“yet.”

your answer just sets him off. and the way you smirk, that damned, arrogant smile that he intends to rip off your face as soon as you get into bed — adamant on being a goddamn brat. oh, you’re going to be a handful.

in a way, he likes it (although suguru prefers to bite down his tongue, rip it off and swallowing it before admitting anything to you). there are those who say that victory without effort is just a poorly deserved achievement.

dragging you by the hair, geto’s eyes are following your every movement as you stumble on your feet. you’re having fun with this, he can tell. something twitches on his chest, and — he can’t decide on anger or attraction as he gets rid of his clothes. why is his body so hot? you haven’t even done anything yet.

“keep your word if you lose, curse.” suguru mumurs, looking down at you while pushing you to bed and moving to be on top of you.

“could say the same, suguru. and don’t call me that.” you spread your legs slowly, smirking as he helps you undress. “i have a name, you know.”

the fun thing about men for you is how predictable they are. they keep denying it over and over — i don’t love you, i’m not a bad guy for cheating on my girlfriend, you’re nothing special — while they’re devouring you with their eyes. someone once said the eyes are the window to the soul. you believe that to be true — after all, no one has interest in a meal they cannot see first.

his desire is palpable in the way suguru’s hands rush, pushing away layers of fabric that’s keeping him from actually seeing you. it looks like he wants to rip the clothes off your body and see what’s underneath, because his heart needs to he. he needs it, he needs you.

the words rushing through his mind make him stop for a moment. what is this thought? he needs you… ? he breathes heavily as you grab his wrist and guide it to your chest. suguru can feel it under his fingers and palm.

the soft feeling of your skin is truly inhuman. it sparks something inside of him — he can’t remember a day where he wanted someone this much.

“you’re staring, suguru.” you tease.

“shut up.” he grits his teeth, moving down to cup your breasts, his thumbs caressing your nipples.

“you like this, don’t you? dirty whore.” geto murmurs, his hands snaking down and grabbing your hips harshly while leaning down, latching his lips to your nipple. his other hand massages your breast and pinches it, and the vibrations of his soft moans make your skin shiver.

he shouldn’t like this so much, he knows that. but the way you taste — it’s not fair. he’s rock-hard after some kissing, pinching, teasing. mere foreplay is making his cock twitch on his pants. the way you moan is divine, and your hand comes down to play with his hair as he sucks on your chest.

your legs wrap themselves around his waist, and he presses you down against the bed, hovering above you eagerly. the stupid buddhist robes he uses as a disguise are falling off his body, and all he wants to do is rip the fabric off and set it on fire because it prevents skin-to-skin contact. he bites down your nipple, and you moan, moving your hands to tug off his clothing.

“do you have condoms on you?” he asks, and you snort.

“no. i can’t be affected by mortal diseases. i don’t need those.”

suguru murmurs something against your skin, feeling himself grow addicted already. a small piece of his brain is already wishing you were his, but not to send you to battle — to get you sat on his lap all day, as he kisses and sucks on your chest. you tug at his hair, watching the black strands falling down his back gracefully as he moves to kiss down your underbust, then stomach. lower belly. his purple eyes look up at your face as his lips part. the cult leader’s hands caress your body as if yearning to memorize the flesh with each touch. here or there, he gently squeezes or pinches to see you squirm. they pass through his arms, shoulders, down his sides and finally meet under his thighs, guiding them to rest on his shoulders.

the first contact of his mouth with your pussy is messy. a bit lewd. generally, younger men like this like to act slow, a bit torturing, to be certain of what they’re doing (and mostly, they’re not). but suguru dives in as if your cunt is the last meal he’ll ever put his mouth on. his attention is mostly driven to your clit, and you gasp, playing with his hair and squeezing his head between your thighs with a smile.

he’s good. you’ve experienced sex mostly using it as a weapon — men in particular are more susceptible because they’re not expecting it, but women also don’t expect to be eviscerated while they’re pleasuring you. but sometimes, when you do enjoy sex for fun, you gained experience enough to tell this man between your legs knows what he’s doing. his hands move to grab your waist and keep you from running away as he kisses your clit. suguru’s tongue draw out and he moves is head up and down slowly, teasingly.

you enjoy the sensations, shiver trailing up your spine and the pleasure already pooling on your lower belly. your body relaxes slowly against the pillows, and you chuckle.

“mm, enjoying yourself down there?”

he doesn’t respond, instead humming against your cunt. the feeling causes your body to tingle, and your fingers curl around his strands (which tells suguru he’s doing something right). he’s finding out how heaven tastes.

you’re more determined than ever that he’s yours, and he can see it in your eyes. the fire in your eyes rivals the fire in both of your bodies.

the flavor is indescribable. geto is no amateur at sex, although he feels like one now. exposed, naked and excited, he feels about to lose the bet that will define his destiny. a lot of people have passed by his bed, and he’s already received a lot of compliments about what he can do with his mouth, but the feeling of all those people feels like a weak breeze compared to what he feels with your taste on his tongue. it is divine.

he’s never experienced anything like it, and the idea that sex could be this good makes him feel like he could do it for hours, every day, all day. it’s almost invigorating, energizing, when he experiences you. his hips move here and there, thrusting softly every now and then. the flushed tip of his cock oozes with pre, and he believes he never got so turned on before.

it’s like he’s a college kid, a desperate virgin trying out pussy for the first time. his arms move, hooking them around your thighs, trying to spread your legs as he sucks on your clit.

you tug at his hair again, hissing.

“not fair, jerk. we need to compete in a way both of us can lose. quit it.”

he would deny it, but denying it would make it obvious geto could cum untouched just from eating you out. he complies, leaning back, your juices making his lips and chin glisten under the room’s lights. “alright, curse.” you tug at his hair again, and he groans. “stop that.”

“you need to get used to it. i’ll do it all the time once you’re mine. i'm going to make you eat me out everyday, like the good boy i know you are.”

he moves up, kissing your stomach and between your breasts while looking up. “don’t claim victory before it’s time.” his voice murmurs, pressing his lips against yours and hugging your waist. “lay back.”

you smirk. “no.”

you grab his shoulders, using your unnatural strength to surprise suguru. changing the positions, you get him to be under you, throwing each of your legs to the sides of his body. his hands move to grab your waist, and his eyes narrow as he frowns.

such a handsome, tall man — even when he frowns. once he’s yours, you promise yourself, you have a lot of fun.

“what are you doing?” he hisses, moving to sit up. your palm lays against his chest, pushing him down again as you raise your hips to rub your wet cunt against him. “fuck, fuck— you slut, what are you doing?”

both of you moan softly at the contact, and you lift your body with spread legs and a smirk that tells him: you’re going all in to win this bet. this is worrying.

once you sink, slowly and surely, he throws his head back with his eyes narrowing. a groan escapes his lips, and his muscles clench. geto’s fingers curl around your waist, sinking his nails to your skin desperately, leaving small, red half-moon marks that heal immediately.

if heaven exists, this is what it feels like — his mind is sure of that. your pussy clenching around him, the pure warmth and tightness from your hole, it drives him insane, speechless. his eyes almost fill with water, and the urge to explode is immediate.

he gasps, holding you down and trying to breathe properly. the sew attempt proves futile, deadly and failed. it’s like the air can’t reach his lungs properly, and for a second he thinks he’s going to die in this pure bliss and smiles to himself. but the charm disappears when he remembers the bet. it was a very, very close call that he didn’t came as soon as he felt you around him.

the want awaken in his body is primal. dirty and impure, there’s no other word for it besides carnal. he wants to grab you and pin you down, thrust into you and cum inside until he dies from exhaustion. this power is — dangerous. it scares him and pleases him in equal measure, being under such a powerful spirit. suguru’s concentration is split, divided, and growing weaker as you speak again.

“what’s wrong, suguru? i can feel you twitch.” you giggle softly, leaning in over him.

your next move throws him off guard. the sadism and fire in your gaze makes him raise an eyebrow, and before he can react, his hips move. down and then up, just to slam back down. it knocks the air off his lungs, and he moans loudly.

“oh, god.”

“no, baby, it’s just me.” you chuckle, staring to set a pace as you lean back. “mmm, sugu. you feel really good, you know? so hard and nice to ride. and so good for me.”

instead of resting against his chest, your hands grab his knees. your stunning, divine body that makes his insides curl and melt is leaned back, exposed in all your glory, and he forgets you’re a curse for a moment. convinced you’re an angel, he grabs your hips to help you ride, thrusting up against your movements.

suguru smiles softly to himself as he hears your soft moans. the sounds is delicious, drowning every worry out of him. he only remembers you’re a curse two minutes seconds later, when your tongue slips out your mouth to lick your lips, as if you’re enjoying a meal.

he feels like an animal, capable of thinking about only one thing: copulating. having sex and reproduce and if he fails in the latter, have sex again until every drop of semen is squeezed out of his body.

he tenses up, groaning. god be kind, he has no idea how he managed to hold on for so long.

“what’s your deal?” another moan quickly scratches his throat, and the heat is almost becoming unbearable. pooling in his lower belly, making his abs and muscles clench as he grinds against you, desperate.

“what are you talking about?” you chuckle, leaning in again and moving your hands up to play with your nipples. slowly — both to tease him and to avoid you cum too early and lose. softly.

“stop— smirking like that. it pisses me off.”

you lean in, playing with a strand of his hair and tugging on it gently. suguru tries to sit up, but you throw him back down, not willing to guv up your advantage. he’s close. you can feel it, see it, you can enjoy the way the head of his cock hits your g-spot sweetly.

the only surprise you feel is when a hand that’s not your creeps and settles between your legs. his thumb moves in small, fast circles against your clit, earning a moan out of you and making your chest inflate as you breathe in heavily.

there was a chance you might lose. if you weren’t you, you might’ve lost.

you pick up your pace, and his heavy breathing mix to yours. it’s fun, you think, you only breathe as heavily as mortals when you’re engaging on sex. it’s cute, it makes them think you’re like them. human. weak-willed, like the man twitching inside of you, urging for release.

but you can’t blame him. his touch drives you insane, you light up like a keg of gunpowder being ignited by flames. he needs to explode. he needs to. you’re settled by that.

suguru starts grunting, his thrusts into your warm, inviting cunt growing more eager and erratic. he thumbs at your clit, looking up at your expression. you smile, moaning his name lewdly.

“suguru.”

and— he feels it. rising so quickly his body has no reaction against it. his orgasm is hard, harder than he ever had it with any warm body or his desperate hand, alone on a corner. he sighs, pausing in between breaths to groan and moan. his eyes close, and his browns furrow up as he stares at the ceiling, gasping softly. his abs clench, he grunts

perhaps this is the true feeling of nirvana, of ascending. suguru believed he and the other sorcerers were true gods walking among earth. that sorcery was the only and true path to the ascension of humanity as a species and as individuals. but this? the feeling of thrusting his cum into your warm, wet velvety walls is the closest he ever felt to a god.

he breathes heavily, scratching your hips as reaction to pain — the overstimulation is hitting him as hard as a truck when you don’t stop moving your hips, eager for your own orgasm as you notice your victory. he grunts again, watching you fall apart on his cock as your turn finally arrives.

riding off your high, you enjoy yourself using him as a toy and personal dildo, you stop slowly to get off him. some of his cum spills out your cunt, fat drops falling to his abdomen.

suguru’s breathing calms down slowly, but his eyes widen in realization. he uses his elbows to prop himself and sit up, murmuring — his voice weakened and a bit desperate. a hint of fear creeps into his tone.

“wait. no, wait.”

you grab him by the neck, and he hesitates, looking up at you. his skin burns and a sinister chill runs through his body while his arms seem to be on fire, next to his neck. stunned by the intensity of his orgasm and what it means, he doesn’t even act while you help him rest his head against your chest. suguru stares at himself, shaking as he notices new marks on his forearms.

black, strong and serpentine, these marks against the skin form quickly, marking him now and forever. like tattoos he can never remove. he looks up, and you twirl a strand of his black hair around your index finger.

“you lost, suguru.” your voice coos sweetly, as if you pity him. but you don’t. you don’t have that mercy on you. “and you know what that means?”

you giggle, and he shivers again as he feels your lips gluing to his ear. you murmur lovingly, as if you’re not deciding his fate.

“you’re mine.”

thank you for reading <3

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maroronoa · 6 months ago

Text

a souvenir for the morning

law x f!heart pirate chronicler | wc: 561

sfw-ish: law discovering kinks, sub!law, room for imagination

definitely play “lose control” by teddy swims for ultimate experience.

Trafalgar Law, the renowned Surgeon of Death, met his match: you. Who knew you have such power, such control over him? You are nothing but a simple chronicler, the crew member in charge of documenting adventures. To everyone else you are that, but, to Law you are something more.

“You are such a good boy,” you whisper, running your fingers down the side of his cheek. Your praise made him shiver as he closes his eyes, feeling a high from your voice. He sighs with content as you command him to stand up, his hands grabbing the edge of his desk. Law stands in between your legs as you sit on the slab of wood like a throne. “Why are you acting this way?” You ask, deftly unbuttoning his shirt.

While you patiently wait for his response, you slip his shirt off, baring his naked chest. He shudders under your warm touch as you trace his tattoos with your fingertips, trying to come up with the best, honest answer.

“Because you make me feel something I can’t ignore…” Law responds a little embarrassed. His voice cracked at the end of his confession.

The moonlight illuminated your silhouette, showing off your curves and features. Law loves nights like these, especially when you are in control. His fingers tremble as they rest on each of your bare thighs. “…just let me please you.” Loving the power you hold over him, you trace Law’s jawline.

“Please me?”

Law nods, his grip tightening.

“Then show me.” You lean back on your wooden throne, giving him the access he desired.

Law’s hands glide up your thighs as he leans in, peppering the side of your neck with kisses with his dry lips. You moan in satisfaction, drinking in how devoted he is to you.

“My Law,” you coo, running your fingers his hair. Your captain got lost in the moment, his fingers in between your thighs and dangerously close to their goal. You stopped them with your fingers and give him a dark look.

“Did I say you can touch me there?” You inquire, lightly pushing him away. “Do you think you are the one in control?”

“Shit, I’m sorry.” Law’s gray eyes widened as he apologized. He lifts his hands off your thighs, as if he stained diamonds with blood. “What can I do to…fix this?” He kneels in front of you, begging. Acting on impulse, Law risks rejection by kissing your calves, his lips changing from one leg to the other, lightly chaffing your skin. Each desperate kiss was his apology for going too far, for disobeying you.

Delighted, Law kisses up your inner right leg while he pinned your wrists in place on the desk. You look up at the ceiling with your eyes closed, relishing the feel of his lips.

“Law…” you whisper.

Is tonight the night? The night you’ll let him have control?

His hold on your wrists tightened as he looks up at you, his needy eyes changing to lust.

You open your eyes and shift your gaze from the ceiling to him after he swiftly stands up and locks eyes with you. Bringing your face closer to his, you whisper, “kiss me.” Law closes the distance between your lips, feeling a rush of adrenaline through his veins, his hold loosening. Without a word, he completely surrenders himself to you.

#law x reader #law x you #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar law x you #one piece writing #one piece x reader #one piece fanfiction #one piece imagines #trafalgar law fanfiction #law fanfic #trafalgar law oneshot

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ihavemanyhusbands · 7 months ago

Text

Revenge is a Dish Best Served Bloody

PART ONE: DOG MEAT

Also on AO3

Mini-series masterlist

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Fem!Bounty Hunter!Reader

WC: 2.3k words

Series Summary: Hunting down your father’s killer – a powerful raider by the name of Axl – you end up being saved from a bad situation by none other than a ghoul. After finding out you have goals in common, you form an uneasy alliance with him, but things get much, much more complicated than that.

Warnings: MINORS DNI, THIS FIC IS 18+, Dead dove: do not eat, canon typical violence, the ghoul being the ghoul, swearing, drug mentions/use (chems), enemies to lovers, eventual smut, blood/gore mentions, sorta dom/sub dynamics, some mentions of cannibalism, angst, some whump, aaaand for now that’s all i can think of but lmk if another tag is needed.

A/N: This is my very first time writing for Cooper Howard/The Ghoul, so I’m still trying to learn how he talks/carries himself. Excited to be writing this little mini series though! :) hope you like <3

———-

Blood flowed relentlessly toward your head, making the upside-down world blur into a vivid amalgamation of color. The raiders' laughter sounded more like the barking of jackals, coming from all around you, disorienting you further.

As you fought to stay conscious, your muscles strained against the ropes that held you up, the rough material biting into your skin. Your head was hovering just a few inches away from the surface of murky, radioactive water. You could feel more than see something lurking in its depths, hungry, waiting for the right time to strike.

And you? You were the bait to lure it out.

Where had it all gone wrong, exactly?

Well, perhaps it had started with you being so overly confident. Sure, you had learned more than a few dirty tricks in your years as a bounty hunter – having to keep yourself both fed and alive while you completed your actual mission – but that didn’t mean you could fight off a large group of brawny, ruthless raiders all by yourself.

At the very least, you’d managed to kill one of them and injure another with your crossbow before you were rewarded with a strike across your face. Bright white stars ignited in your vision as you were quickly subdued and strung upside down from the rusted arm of a broken crane.

The worst part was, you’d barely had time to ask any of the questions you’d wanted to ask. You supposed you’d never been a great interrogator, anyway, but that was something to concern yourself with another time; If there even was another time.

“Come on, where’s the fucking gulper? We don’t have all fucking day here,” one of the raiders, a big-headed bald man, gruffed.

Another one of them, scrawnier and rat-like, let out an amused grunt. “Heh, should’ve just chopped her up and sold her as dog meat.”

“Still time for that, if it doesn’t come,” the bald one said. “Think we should lower her more? If her head’s underwater, she’ll thrash around and maybe get the gulper's attention.”

At this, panic flared within you once more. You tried moving your wrists, legs kicking more and more urgently. The raiders laughed again at your rendition of the gallowdance. Your head felt like it was on fire, dangerously nearing an explosion.

Distantly, you heard the creak of metal as the rope that held you aloft was adjusted. Your body jerked as it began to descend, the crown of your head now submerged. Your mind raced as you tried to find ways to save yourself, but it was getting harder and harder to think. You wanted to scream, but you were only able to make a weak, gurgling sound.

There was a loud splash, entirely too close for comfort. Jeering from the raiders as they prepared for a gruesome show. You began to accept your fate, dismay over your failure to complete your life’s mission greater than your fear of death.

But suddenly, you heard various gunshots in rapid succession. It’s a fucking ghoul! somebody shouted frantically. The confused screams of the raiders followed along with some answering shots. The heavy thump of bodies collapsing, one by one.

It was silent for a moment, except for a breeze settling the dust and your heartbeat pounding in your head like a drum. Then there was the soft clink of spurs as someone approached you, an old pair of cowboy boots appearing in your vision.

You tried craning your neck to get a better view of your supposed savior. You could barely see his face, the sun haloing his head like a saint’s. But there are no angels in the wasteland, you thought deliriously, only roaming devils searching for carrion to pick on.

His voice was low and raspy, with a southern drawl that was almost soothing, in a strange way. “Well, well… Ain’tcha just the prettiest hunk of meat I ever did see?”

A shuddery gasp escaped your throat as you felt the rope loosen a little more, fully submerging your head. Your eyes rolled into the back of your skull as you were swallowed by darkness, immediately unconscious.

—-----------------------------------------

“See that there?” your father whispered, pointing up at a cluster of stars. “That’s the big dipper. And just below its tail is the little dipper. Do you see ‘em?”

You nodded, awed by the simple, ephemeral beauty of a still night sky. Your father’s soothing presence, his patient teachings, the world not so horrible when seen through his eyes.

“Like us,” you said with a smile. “Always together.”

His smile was sad then. You couldn’t remember it being that way, but memories tended to warp over time, didn’t they?

“Yes, sweetie. Always together,” he said, trying to sound as promising as possible. “But if we ever separated, for whatever reason, remember that you can look up at the sky at night, and you will always find us there.”

—------------------------------------------

You woke up sputtering, thinking you were still underwater. Your stomach lurched violently and your body twisted onto your hands and knees, retching. Spewing bile as yellow as the RadAway you found yourself hooked onto. Panting with both exertion and disorientation, searing pain lancing through your skull.

It was close to sunset, the sky beginning to burn orange and gold, the atmosphere cooler. You were still at the quarry where you’d first encountered the raiders, but you were a safe distance away from the water.

You could smell and hear a small campfire nearby. Felt a presence behind you, a heavy gaze fixed on you.

“You must be all kinds of stupid, huh? Chargin’ into that battlefield of your own makin’, not even a hint of backup around to help.” The ghoul shook his head with amusement. “Then again, you must’ve been lookin’ for a guaranteed death… So which is it, suicidal or stupid?”

You spat on the dirt and roughly wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, glaring at him. If you knew one thing, it was to avoid ghouls as best as you could. Coming across one from time to time was inevitable, but you’d never in your wildest dreams thought you’d be saved by one. Or that you would still be in one piece in his presence.

At least he wasn’t worse for wear, and nowhere near feral. He was missing his nose, as all ghouls did, and his skin was leathery and burnt. His features were skeletal, shadowed under the wide brim of his hat. Otherwise… he wasn’t unbearable to look at.

“No? Y’ain’t gonna tell me?” he said, the curiosity in your stare not unnoticed by him. His eyes roamed over you in return. “Gotta be honest, I was real tempted to take a bite earlier, but I never really took a liking to dog meat.”

He chuckled and your frown only deepened, hatred and rage alight in your eyes. You tried to scoot further away, but it was then you noticed a rope was tied around one of your ankles, the other end of it under the ghoul’s boot.

“What do you want with me, ghoul?” You croaked, your throat scratchy and raw from the stomach acid.

“Well, that ain’t very grateful of you, sweetheart. I saved your skin back there,” he clicked his tongue in disappointment, unholstering his pistol. “I could’ve been just as unmerciful as those raiders, if not more.”

You swallowed hard at the imagery, but you didn’t let your dread show. “And why weren’t you?”

He leaned forward, barrel lazily pointed at you. His eyes narrowed expectantly, and you realized he truly wanted to hear some gratitude from you before continuing.

Stubbornly, you clenched your jaw shut and continued to glare. He looked off into the horizon, noticing how quickly the light was waning.

“Think you’d fare any better when the fiends come out to play? Or some super mutant?” He mused, his tone bored. “I ain’t got a whole lot of time here.”

After the day you had, you didn’t really want to take those chances.

The words crawled up your throat like a second wave of acid, scalding your tongue as you uttered them. “Thank you… for saving me.”

“Now there’s a well mannered girl. Knew you had it in ya,” he said with a roguish grin. “Y’know that means you owe me one, don’tcha?”

You dipped your chin in confirmation, hating that you couldn’t argue with him on that one. Not many — if anyone at all — were spared the wasteland, so this was not something to be taken lightly. Especially not while already being tied to him, with virtually zero chances of escaping alive.

“But I ain’t gonna cash in that favor now, so don’t worry your pretty lil head ‘bout it,” he continued, but you didn’t feel at all eased by that statement. “I do wanna know somethin’ though… just what on earth possessed you to follow those men?”

You blinked at him in both surprise and confusion. How did he know that?

“See, I’d been trailing that group of shitheads for a few days. Was after that big headed fella, the leader, Tiberius,” He waved his gun around dismissively, like that part of the story was irrelevant. “But then, I noticed they had another shadow behind them — A quiet lil mousey jus’ like yourself.”

You shrugged one shoulder, unsure of how much truth you should actually give him. “I was looking for some information.”

“What’s that?” He spoke up, cupping his hand over his ear. “What you mumblin’ for? C’mere so I can hear you better.”

With that, he stood up, yanking the rope with more force than was necessary. Your back hit the ground, dust and rocks scraping your skin as you were pulled towards his feet. Trying to stop yourself with your hands only ripped up your palms, so you went slack on the last tug towards him.

He tilted his head to one side as he observed you, a flash of teeth that showed his continued amusement.

“Much better. Now what was that you were sayin’, darlin’?”

You bared your teeth in return, internally fuming. “I said I was looking for some goddamn information.”

He gave you a mocking pout. “Aw, sweetheart… fella wasn’t as forthcomin’ as ya thought, was he?”

“Fuck you,” you spat before you could stop yourself.

“There’ll be time enough for that,” he chuckled, settling his boot on your hipbone. “But first, what kind of information were you tryin’a get?”

“Why do you care? The fuck’s it to you?”

The barrel of his gun was pointed at you once more in warning, right between your eyes. His boot pressed down on your hip until you squeaked, knowing it would bruise.

“His brother… Axl,” you panted, gripping his boot in a futile attempt to get it off you. “I need to - I need to find him.”

He let out a long, low whistle. “Axl, huh? Now I know you really got a death wish, and you’re just stupid to boot.”

“You wouldn’t get it, ghoul,” you said through gritted teeth. “I don’t expect you to know anything about losing someone you love.”

He tensed then, hand trembling for just the briefest second. His features hardened, chapped lips thinning into a flat, angry line.

He lifted his boot only to land a harsh kick to your ribs, knocking the breath out of your lungs. Again, you felt like hurling, coughing violently instead.

“Oh, I know a whole lot more than you think, smoothie,” he said, going silent for a moment as he seemed to think. “Why you lookin’ for Axl? I can jus’ take care of you right ‘ere if you want to die so badly.”

“I’m going to kill him, with my own fucking hands,” you growled, too spent to beat around the bush any longer. “He-he killed my father last year.”

The briefest moment of stunned silence before the ghoul burst out laughing.

“Ain’t that somethin’. You? Takin’ out the big bad raider all by yourself? Now I’ve heard it all,” he shook his head once again. “You’re a spunky little gal, I’ll give ya that much.”

“It’s the law of the wasteland,” you said. “He owes me.”

He crouched next to you, his interest fully piqued. One side of his mouth was pulled up in a sly grin, his gaze held by yours.

“Tell ya what, I myself got some business to attend to with our dear friend Axl, and I just so happen to know where the fucker likes to hide out,” he said, enjoying the sparkle igniting in your eye — that thirst for revenge, for blood.

“Please,” was the only thing you could say, breathless, gripping his tattered coat. “I’ll do anything.”

“Anything, huh?” His tongue ran over his teeth pensively. “Well, seeing as you owe me a favor, I was just gonna take you along with me. Easier that way for you to repay me.”

You propped yourself up on your elbows, not wanting to stay on the ground. Your heads were much closer, but you tried your hardest not to let it get to you.

“What business do you have with him?” You asked warily.

“That ain’t none of your concern, darlin’,” he said, removing the rope from around your ankle to bind your wrists together. “Trust me or not, y’ain’t got no choice but to come with me. Now get up, gotta find ourselves a place to hole up in for the night.”

Painstakingly, you stood up, grunting with both pain and the exhaustion that suddenly crashed into you. As soon as you were on your feet, he tugged you forward, not waiting a moment longer before starting to walk.

“If things go tits up, well… Least I got myself a little snack for the road,” he said over his shoulder with a wink.

“I thought you said you didn’t eat dog meat.”

“Heh, well, you’re starting to prove to be a little more useful than that. But we’ll see about the taste.”

——

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chiqelatasblog · 8 months ago

Note

Can I request imagine: Bi Han fell in love with Shang Tsung's daughter; unlike her father she is gentle and soft spoken and thanks to her father she mastered soul magic takes place when Shang Tsung captured Bi Han and Kuai Liang please?

Um… Well… This imagine turned into a whole one-shot. I'll try to shorten it in the future. I realized that I can't write short fic.🥲

Fates Intertwined ♾️

-> Ao3 link is here.

Pairings : Bi-Han/ Sub - Zero x You

Tropes : Major Character Injury, Blood and Injury, Near Death Experiences, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Falling in Love, Strangers to Lovers, Protectiveness, Possessive Behavior, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence , Intimacy

Summary : Bi-Han, gravely wounded during a mission, finds himself lost in the uncharted territory of Outworld. As he teeters on the brink of death, he awakens in an unfamiliar home. There a woman, a master of soul magic, emerges into his life, her presence calming and gentle as she tends to Bi-Han's injuries. Drawn to her unexpectedly, Bi-Han finds himself experiencing feelings he never had before.

However, little does he know, his savior harbors a secret...

Author’s Note : This is the first request I’ve ever received, I didn’t get any notifications about it so I found it on accident actually. Anyway I’m kind of excited to share it, it’s over 8k (I got away with feelings.) Hope it lived up to expectations! 💕

He was on the brink of death.

Bi-Han felt the specter of death looming closer than ever before as he dragged his battered body through the uncharted terrain of Outworld. While he had faced dangerous situations in the past, none had brought him as precariously close to the brink as this one. With every step, he pressed a hand against his stomach, where a gaping wound on his right side oozed blood, a portion of it torn away. His vision dimmed gradually, like a flickering lamp nearing its end, his breathing ragged, his steps unsteady. Despite having accomplished his mission, he snarled with what little strength remained, enraged that his slight lapse in caution would cost him his life.

Each step grew more arduous, his coordination failing as darkness encroached upon his sight. Unable to discern what obstacles tripped him amidst the dimming landscape, he collapsed heavily onto the ground. The wound, incessantly bleeding with each convulsion of his body, sent tremors of agony coursing through him, threatening to shatter his teeth as he gritted them in pain.

Struggling to roll onto his side, Bi-Han expelled the soil that had invaded his mouth and smeared his lips, laboring to draw oxygen into his weakened lungs. Above, the sky darkened, with the moon and stars emerging while clouds gathered ominously, presaging the impending rain. It was a grim realization that in this barren, lifeless landscape, he would meet his end alone—a consequence of his arrogance and overconfidence in his abilities. Dry and lifeless plants dotted the cracked earth, while rocks and pebbles stretched as far as the eye could see, with no sign of a river or any semblance of life.

Death had never been a fear for him, he was raised with the understanding that every moment could be his last. Memories raced through his mind like fragments of a shattered mirror; his training, the teachings of his clan, and the faces of those he had loved and lost along the way. Amidst the pain, a sense of regret gnawed at him, whispering of unfinished business and promises left unfulfilled. Yet, amidst the turmoil, a resolute determination surged within him, a steadfast refusal to succumb to the darkness that threatened to consume him. While the frustration and ambition of leaving his goals unfinished weighed heavily, he found a measure of peace in knowing that Kuai Liang would capably assume the mantle of grandmaster and safeguard the clan.

As he drew a deep breath, a fit of coughing wracked him, the bitter taste of blood filling his mouth. Turning his head to the side to avoid suffocation, he surrendered to a numbing sensation that dulled his senses from head to toe.

Finally, unable to stave off the encroaching darkness any longer, his eyes, barely able to remain open, fluttered closed.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

The first sensation that washed over him was a soothing warmth, cocooning him like a comforting embrace. Blinking open his eyes, Bi-Han found himself lying atop a soft surface, the faint scent of clean soap wafting around him. In the distance, he could hear a soft female voice humming a kind of melody, accompanied by the clinking of plates and dishes. Struggling to lift his heavy eyelids, he squinted at the wooden ceiling above him, its rough texture illuminated by the soft glow of candlelight casting dancing shadows across the room.

‘’The hell?’’

His words emerged hoarsely from his parched throat. As he attempted to sit up, the covers slipped off, landing on his lap, and a sharp pain shot through his side where the wound lay. Clenching his hand over the bandages wrapped around his abdomen, he felt the fabric instead of his usual cold skin. The bandages appeared freshly changed, but his right side had already begun to bleed anew due to his carelessness.

With a muttered curse, Bi-Han glanced around the room, his body tensing as footsteps approached. Instinctively, he summoned an ice kunai into his hand, a simple gesture that now felt exhausting under the circumstances. Just as the figure drew near, he leveled the weapon with a silent threat.

‘’I didn’t go through all this trouble just for you to kill me,’’ admonished a soft female voice. ‘’Besides, I’ve just changed those bandages, and now I’ll have to do it all over again. Why are you still sitting? You need to lay down.’’

Bi-Han’s surprise was tinged with suspicion. Was this woman blind? How could she not have noticed the sharp kunai in his hand? Moreover, she appeared unarmed, leaving herself defenseless against him. His anger flared at the implication that he was underestimated. Even injured, he was still a lethal force to be reckoned with.

‘’Do you intend to worsen the bleeding?’’ she continued calmly, stepping closer but maintaining a cautious distance. ‘‘I am not a threat to you. My name is (y/n). I found you and brought you to my home for treatment. You’ve been here for three days. If I wanted to harm you, I wouldn’t have bothered bringing you back from the brink.’’

Bi-Han’s gaze softened slightly as he absorbed her words. Despite his initial hostility, there was something about her demeanor that suggested genuine concern. Yet, he remained wary, his mind racing with questions and suspicions.

‘’Why?” growled Bi-Han through clenched teeth, his gaze sharp as he eyed the young woman standing before him.

The woman blinked in surprise at the question. “I don’t understand.”

“Why did you save me?”

“Because you were dying,” she replied innocently, taking another step toward him. “Now, will you let go of what you have and let me help you?”

“I can take care of myself,” Bi-Han insisted, trying not to be swayed by the woman’s gentle aura as he moved to stand up, wary of her true intentions. The woman’s expression clouded with worry.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

“Don’t interfere—Fuck.” Despite his attempt to rise, sharp pain lanced through Bi-Han’s body, threatening to overwhelm him. Just as he felt himself faltering, a soft body caught him, careful to avoid his wound. A sweet scent enveloped him—cinnamon and vanilla—intoxicatingly sweet, like fresh-baked buns.

Relaxing involuntarily, Bi-Han allowed the woman to guide him back onto the bed, his resistance waning. She had a point—if she wanted him dead, she wouldn’t have gone to such lengths to keep him alive for three days, despite being a total stranger.

“I have to open the bandages and check your stitches. I’m afraid they may have burst.”

“I’ll take care of it myself,” Bi-Han retorted, refusing to show weakness or dependence.

“Why won’t you let me help you?” The woman’s voice softened, her gentle demeanor tugging at something within Bi-Han. Though he remained silent, she sighed deeply. “I have a light touch and am quite fast, you can trust me. If I happen to hurt you, you can also treat your wounds. I just want to assist and ease your suffering, especially since you’re badly wounded. Oh and besides that, I made some stew. I’m sure you’re hungry.”

Bi-Han scrutinized (y/n) for the first time since waking, assessing her body language and facial expressions. As an assassin, he rarely misjudged people. Despite his initial wariness, he sensed a purity and compassion within her that he couldn’t ignore. The subtle tilt of her head and the warmth in her eyes felt genuine. Even though he couldn’t fathom why she would go to such lengths to heal a dangerous person like him, knowing he could easily harm her without breaking a sweat, he found himself appreciating her compassion. Yet, alongside his gratitude, a twinge of annoyance gnawed at him, stemming from her apparent blindness to the danger he inherently posed.

With a resigned grunt, he relented, allowing her to tend to him as she saw fit, though a part of him remained on guard, ready to react at the slightest sign of threat.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

A week had passed since his return from the brink of death, and four days since he had awakened in your home. In that time, while his wound had begun to heal rapidly, his movements remained slow and restricted. Returning to his clan without a full recovery would only be self-torment, risking undoing the healing process with his own hands. And also, you were stubborn about it, showing no inclination to let him go until he was fully restored to health.

As absurd as the situation seemed to Bi-Han, it also warmed him in a way he hadn’t anticipated. Despite his injuries, he was an assassin and the grandmaster of the Lin Kuei—capable of neutralizing any threat that crossed his path. But you posed no threat; instead, you cared for him with remarkable dedication, as if welcoming a normal person into your home rather than a man with lethal abilities. Day by day, Bi-Han found himself lowering his guard against you, a sensation he struggled to control.

During the first night, while you slept, he scrutinized every corner of your house, finding no weapons or defenses. There was nothing you could have done to protect yourself from him. Trained from an early age to turn disadvantage into advantage, Bi-Han realized that this was not the case here. You harbored no ulterior motives; your only intention was to help him.

With the house being small and his movement limited by his wound, Bi-Han had ample time to observe and learn about you. Spending time together, he discovered your extraordinary ability to heal and revive him using soul magic—a gift passed down from your father. Bi-Han refrained from prying into your past, respecting the boundaries you set. He knew only what you chose to share—that your father was a merchant who often left for months at a time with his caravan.

Staring at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, barely able to fit two people, Bi-Han assessed his unkempt appearance. His normally well-kept hair hung loose, difficult to manage due to his injury, cascading down his neck to his chest. A scruffy beard obscured his chin, his pale skin accentuated by dark circles under his eyes. Running a hand through his hair, he muttered to himself, ‘‘I need to shave… And I definitely need a damn shower.’’

‘’Did you say something?’’ Bi-Han looked at you inquisitively from the bathroom door, wondering how long you had been standing there watching him. Your cheeks flushed a sweet shade of red as you realized you had been caught. ‘’Well, the door was open, so—I thought, um… do you need something? I heard you talking to yourself,’’ you said, trying to regain your composure quickly.

‘‘I need to take a shower, and I also need to trim my beard. It itches.’’

‘’Oh, sure. The towels are right there.’’ you replied, entering the room and retrieving the towels from the wooden closet under the sink. As you spoke, you kept busy, avoiding his gaze. ‘‘It’s better if your wound doesn’t get wet for a while longer. I can give you a cloth to wipe your body, and I can help with your hair. If you want, of course.’’ Though you added the last part hastily, your avoidance of his gaze didn’t go unnoticed by Bi-Han, who couldn’t help but smirk slightly.

It was evident from your demeanor that you held an interest in him—your actions were transparent and sincere. What intrigued Bi-Han even more was that he also found himself drawn to you. For the first time in a long while, there was no need for him to be on guard, and your presence offered an unexpected reprieve from his usual responsibilities. You brought him more comfort than anyone had before, your dedication focused on helping rather than brute force, and you effortlessly dismantled the walls he had built around himself. It was a mystery to Bi-Han how you managed to achieve this in such a short time, but your presence had a calming effect on him.

‘’Do whatever you want.’’ Bi-Han said, beginning to undress. Your eyes widened in alarm at his actions.

‘’W-What are you doing?’’

‘’I will wipe my body as you said. Since you’re so helpful, maybe you’d like to assist me with that too?’’ Bi-Han lowered his voice, locking eyes with you as he took pleasure in the crimson blush that spread across your face. He didn’t fully understand this newfound calmness and playful demeanor within himself, but he felt compelled to act this way around you. You weren’t under his command or a threat to be eliminated; instead, you were the reason he was still alive. Though he was reluctant to admit it, he owed you his life.

Your response was stuttered and unclear as you hurriedly left the bathroom as if it were on fire. ‘’Just call out to me when you’re finished. And don’t forget to wrap a towel around yourself,’’ you called out from behind the door.

Bi-Han carefully placed his clothes in a corner to keep them dry, then settled onto the edge of the bathtub, ensuring not to disturb his bandages. Using the cloth you provided, he began to cleanse the dirt and grime from his body, avoiding the area of his wound. Minutes later, when the water ran clear, he wrapped one of the towels around his waist and called out to you.

Opening the door cautiously, you peeked inside to confirm that he was following your instructions. Seeing him with the towel wrapped around his waist, you entered the room and closed the door behind you. “Sit on the edge of the bathtub and lean your head back,” you instructed in a gentle tone. As Bi-Han complied, you adjusted the water temperature for a few seconds until it reached the desired level. Letting out a small murmur of approval, you turned your attention to him, holding a shower cap in your hand.

As your eyes met, your cheeks flushed once again, and you quickly averted your gaze to his hair. Clearing your throat with a small cough, you began to wet his hair, ensuring the water stayed away from his face. Bi-Han watched your every move with keen interest, finding pleasure in your innocence and sincerity.

“Does the water feel too hot?” you asked, breaking the silence.

A small grunt escaped Bi-Han’s lips. “I’m a cryomancer; water temperature doesn’t bother me.”

“Oh, right. I forgot. It’s not every day I meet someone like you. I thought cryomancers were just a myth,” your fingers hesitating slightly as you untangled his hair. Emboldened by his lack of reaction, you continued to work, carefully removing the knots with practiced hands. “Your hair is very beautiful.” you said in a low, soft voice that could be considered shy.

“It’s just black,” Bi-Han replied.

“It’s not just black; it’s like onyx, especially when it’s wet. I’ve never seen such dark black hair before. It suits you.” As you determined that his hair was sufficiently wet, you picked up a shampoo that smelled of sugary flowers and squeezed a generous amount into your hand. “I’m sorry, this is all I have. I hope it’s not a problem.” you said, your voice tinged with apology.

‘’It’s better than dirt,” Bi-Han remarked in a dry voice. Though he had no desire to smell like a flower garden, he also acknowledged that he didn’t have a better option. As your fingers began to massage his scalp, Bi-Han was taken aback by how pleasant it felt. Your deft fingers worked circles on his scalp, lathering the shampoo, and Bi-Han found himself relaxing in waves of relief, melting like ice rapidly thawing. The warmth in the bathroom, the gentle touch… it was almost overwhelming, especially given how skilled your fingers were at their task.

“You might want to close your eyes, I wouldn’t want the shampoo to run into them by accident.” You said, breaking him out of the trance he hadn’t even realized he had slipped into. Once again, Bi-Han was surprised at how low his guard was around you. He had stopped seeing you as a threat some time ago, but he couldn’t comprehend how easily he let down the automatic defenses he had cultivated over many years.

Closing his eyes, Bi-Han waited for you to rinse the shampoo from his hair. After washing for a while, you reached for the towel in the corner to help him dry off.

“Okay, you can stand up, we’re done.” you announced.

Bi-Han stood up quickly, stretching his neck, which had grown stiff from being in the same position for so long, before turning his gaze to you. With your cheeks flushed from the warmth of the bathroom, your clothes splattered with water drops, and your skin glowing from the moisture, you appeared vulnerable and innocent enough to make his chest ache.

Raised in a clan of ruthless assassins where survival and flawless execution of death were paramount, Bi-Han had always imagined the woman who would enter his life as strong, tough, with sharp eyes and an authoritarian nature to adapt to his lifestyle. Yet, looking at you, he began to question this assumption for the first time. You possessed a nurturing side that defied brute force, completely opposite to his expectations, and Bi-Han found himself unexpectedly drawn to this contrast. You were good to him.

“Bi-Han… You’ve been staring at me for a while. Is everything okay?” you asked.

“I want to kiss you.” Bi-Han blurted out suddenly. The words escaped his lips so spontaneously that he was as surprised as you were. Though he could have easily taken you in his arms and kissed you, he wanted your consent, to hear from your lips if you desired it as much as he did. You were the last person he wanted to intimidate or use force on.

As your eyes widened in astonishment, a loud “What?” escaped your lips.

‘’You heard me.” Bi-Han said sharply. Your cheeks flushed to the tips of your ears, the color he liked to see. Approving him in a soft, almost shy voice, your gaze drifted to the ground.

Finally hearing the answer he desired, Bi-Han growled and gently raised your head with his fingers grasping the tip of your chin. He connected his lips with yours, driven by a voracious appetite. This hunger was unlike anything he had ever experienced before, possessing a fiery intensity that shook him to his core. It wasn’t until he kissed you that he realized the depth of his feelings; he could have kissed your lips, as soft and tender as rose petals, for hours, sating an inner thirst he hadn’t known existed.

His hand traced the line of your jaw, capturing the back of your head and part of your neck. Placing his other hand on the curve of your waist, he gently squeezed the soft flesh, eliciting a small, breathless moan from your lips. Your voice, trembling like a whip of flame, ignited a dangerous fire within Bi-Han.

There was a unique taste to you, one that defined you completely. It was clean, like dewdrops forming on leaves in the morning spring, and wet as he slid his tongue between your parted lips. Another small moan escaped you as you placed your hands on his shoulders, your thumbs massaging the veins that began to appear on his neck. Bi-Han found himself hating the bathtub that stood as a barrier between them, longing to bridge the distance between you.

‘’Hold on tight.” He growled savagely, his lips pouring forth a mixture of desire and intensity. With your flushed cheeks, half-lidded eyes, and breathless look, you embodied a dangerous blend of innocence and allure, a presence that could emerge on the wettest of nights. As you tightened your grip on his shoulders in response to his command, Bi-Han effortlessly lifted you from the bathtub, as if you weighed nothing at all.

“Bi-Han! Your wound–” you began, concern lacing your voice.

“I’m fine.” Bi-Han cut you off, dismissing any objections as he instructed you to wrap your legs around his waist. He captured your lips again, this time with a fierce hunger that left little room for gentleness. Despite his intentions to proceed slowly and remain in control, you made it nearly impossible with your presence alone. Your scent, your soft skin, your delicate movements – they all acted as an irresistible spell, unraveling Bi-Han’s logic and common sense piece by piece.

Drops of water from his wet hair trailed down your cheek, then your neck, as Bi-Han followed their path with his tongue. He paused at the curve of your neck, grazing your skin with his teeth.

“You don’t even know how bad I want you. Now.” he declared in a voice thick with desire, his need palpable. Tilting his head slightly, he took your earlobe between his teeth, exerting just enough pressure to send a shiver down your spine. “Can I have you?”

You trembled in his arms, pressing your body against his, and buried your head in the curve of his neck, your voice barely above a whisper, the soft cadence of your affirmation barely audible against his skin.

“Yes. Ah, to—to bed… Let’s go to bed.” you murmured, your voice filled with anticipation.

Responding to your command, Bi-Han carried you swiftly into the bedroom, stealing kisses and caressing your soft flesh which filled perfectly in his palms along the way. As he carefully placed you on the bed, he ensured not to overwhelm you with his weight. With one knee positioned between your legs and applying small pressure to your aching core, he felt your breath quicken, your legs parting slightly, inviting him closer.

“Bi-Han, please… hurry,” you pleaded, your voice trembling with need. Despite not yet fully engaging in intimacy, you were already consumed by desire, your surrender evident in every trembling breath and pleading glance. Bi-Han found himself entranced by the unique blend of your naivety and charm, a combination both intoxicating and heady. It puzzled him how you could exude such innocence while also igniting a fire within him, a sensation he found both captivating and bewildering.

With every inhibition shattered, Bi-Han’s entire being was consumed by you. His mind echoed with a commanding voice, declaring possession. ‘Mine. You are mine.’ With each beat of his heart, the intensity of his desire deepened, enveloping him in a whirlwind of need. His arousal surged with a newfound fervor, driving him to seek you with an urgency he had never known before. He longed to lose himself in your warmth, to leave an indelible mark on you, claiming you as his own in a way that no other could satisfy you again.

‘‘Fuck. I wanted to take it slow,” Bi-Han cursed, his voice filled with frustration.

“Another time,” you replied swiftly. “I want you, Bi-Han. I need you… just… please.” As your attempts to form coherent sentences faltered, you resorted to expressing your desires through your eyes, tears clung to your lashes, your need laid bare for him to see. Despite the flush that colored your face, neck, your chest peeking through your clothes, your timidity had been replaced by a raw, unbridled desire.

“Another time.” Bi-Han echoed your words, his tone laced with determination. It was a promise, a vow to indulge in the intoxicating taste of you until every inch of your body bore his mark. The thought had transformed into a primal need, a longing to possess you completely.

With swift motions, Bi-Han stripped away your clothes, discarding them haphazardly. As predicted, your chest also completely flushed dark, your nipples hardening under his gaze, pleading for his touch.

“You are such a sight… so beautiful,” Bi-Han murmured, his words tinged with reverence. You squirmed under his attention, somewhat embrassed by his words and attempted to cover yourself clumsily. As he untied the towel from his waist, he fixed you with a stern gaze. “Don’t you dare hide anything from me. This is not a request.”

When his cold fingers made contact with the intimate area between your legs, you flinched at the sudden chill. Instead of recoiling, however, you parted your legs, wordlessly inviting him closer. Bi-Han found himself drawn to this decadent aspect of you, contrasting with your usual demeanor. You were slick with arousal, your warmth enveloping his cold touch until it reached a semblance of normalcy.

“Next time, I will explore you slowly, savoring every moment,” he declared, his voice brooking no argument.

And so he did.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

Another two weeks slipped by, each day marked by the steady healing of his wound and the gradual return of his strength. Strangely, Bi-Han found himself not minding the passing of time, a stark contrast from his usual restlessness. Even though his days were now filled with the singular purpose of recuperation, he couldn’t bring himself to feel bored in your company.

You had established a routine of caring for him in the house. Every morning, after sharing breakfast together, you diligently tended to his wound, changing bandages with meticulous care. Despite his stature, Bi-Han appreciated the gentleness with which you handled him, as if afraid to cause him any discomfort.

Following this, Bi-Han would retreat outdoors to meditate or exercise, while you busied yourself with tending to the garden and other household chores. Occasionally, you would venture to the market, a task Bi-Han offered to take over multiple times, only to be politely declined by you each time. He sensed a trace of anxiety in your eyes whenever you left, as though fearing his departure in your absence.

The reality of his impending departure weighed heavily on Bi-Han. Though duty called him back to his clan and responsibilities, he couldn’t bear the thought of leaving you behind. The bond between you had grown deeper with each passing day, surpassing even the connections he shared with his own brothers. You had a remarkable ability to understand him without words, a skill few others possessed.

In your presence, Bi-Han found himself rediscovering aspects of himself long buried beneath the facade of his assassin persona. With you, he experienced a sense of comfort and peace he hadn’t known in years. Every touch, every embrace left him yearning for more, a relentless desire burning within him. He marveled at the intensity of his feelings for you, realizing that he wanted every part of you in a way he had never imagined possible.

His favorite time of the day was undoubtedly dinner. Sitting across from you, sharing simple conversations, witnessing your smile, hearing your laughter, and seeing your eyes light up brought him joy. It was a simplicity he hadn’t experienced since becoming the grandmaster. Once disciplined, strict, and focused solely on responsibilities, he now found value in these moments, offering him a new perspective on life.

As both of you sat facing each other at dinner, Bi-Han decided it was time to address the lingering topic that had hung in the air for some time.

“You mentioned you could remove my stitches in a few days, after that I’ll return to Earthrealm.” He stated firmly. Though he disliked seeing the smile on your face fade, you both knew he couldn’t remain cocooned in this sanctuary forever.

“Oh… So you’ve decided on the day.” You responded, averting your gaze as you spoke. When you reached for your wine, Bi-Han gently grasped your hand, halting your movement.

“I want you to come with me.” he declared.

Your eyes widened with surprise. “To your clan? Really?”

“Yes, I want you to see where I live.” Bi-Han lifted your wrist, his touch still gentle as he grazed his index finger against your skin, all while maintaining unbroken eye contact. “I wasn’t joking when I said you were mine.”

Your cheeks flushed slightly as a sweet laugh escaped your lips, a sound Bi-Han found irresistible. In that moment, he realized his attachment to you ran deeper than he had ever realized.

“You know, I’m not an item that you can take wherever you want.”

“I didn’t mean it in that sense.” His gaze shifted to the dozen bruises on your neck, a satisfied curl tugging at the corner of his lip. Each mark filled him with a sense of ownership, igniting a fire within him every time he saw them.

“Then it’s only fair that I should say that you are also mine.” you countered. Despite your brave demeanor, your face betrayed your true feelings once again. As you took a sip from your glass, attempting to hide your expression, Bi-Han watched you silently, a smile playing on his lips, hidden only by his hand resting on his chin.

As Bi-Han grappled with the conflicting desires pulling at his heartstrings — duty to his clan and the burgeoning attachment to you — a storm of emotions raged within him. The weight of responsibility tugged relentlessly, reminding him of the obligations he bore as the leader of the clan. However, a shadow began to loom over his resolve, stirring a longing for something more.

“I’d love to,’’ you finally said after a moment. ‘‘But I have to wait for my father’s return; I don’t know when he will come here.’’

“You can leave a note.”

“I’d rather talk it over with him face to face,” you insisted politely. “But I can come to visit from time to time. If it’s convenient for you, of course, I’d love to see where you grew up and spend time there.”

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

It had been five months since Bi-Han returned to his clan, and everything was just as he had left it. Kuai Liang had managed the clan well in his absence, with the assistance of Tomas and Sektor, although Bi-Han knew his brother was downplaying his own contributions. Despite the slight age difference between them, Kuai Liang was more than capable of assuming the role of grandmaster.

There was considerable curiosity among the clan members about his prolonged absence and the circumstances surrounding it. Tomas, in particular, had been concerned for his well-being the most. During a briefing with the council members, consisting solely of his inner circle, Bi-Han provided a summary of what happened, including mentioning you and your remarkable abilities. The news of your impending visit piqued the interest of everyone present, even if they attempted to conceal it.

Although you could only visit twice in five months, you effortlessly bonded with his brothers. Even with Sektor and Cyrax, you made it easy to connect, your kind soul evident in your demeanor and smile. It felt as though you had always been a member of the clan, your presence comforting and familiar to everyone. During conversations, you repeatedly expressed feeling comfortable and safe around them. This, coupled with the unique way you contributed to Bi-Han’s recovery, swiftly earned you the respect of the entire clan.

When you did visit, Bi-Han found solace and peace in holding you in his arms once more. In your absence, he had been on edge, constantly worrying about your well-being. Your presence felt like a breath of fresh air, infusing color and vibrancy into his otherwise monotonous existence. He couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment he fell in love with you, but your influence had been undeniable from the moment he first laid eyes on you. The desire to keep you close, to protect you at all costs, consumed him, even though he knew the realities of their lives would make it challenging. Being separated from you had taken a toll on his nerves, leaving him irritable and restless. Amidst the tumultuous whirlwind of his thoughts, Bi-Han grappled with the overwhelming desire to see you again.

The last time you visited, you stayed for a while. One night, in particular, is etched clearly in Bi-Han’s mind. A fierce wind howled outside, causing the windows to rattle, while snow fell rapidly, swirling in the storm and clinging to the glass surfaces. Except for the candles flickering in the room, there was no other light, casting a dim glow. The scent of both of you enveloped the room like a heavy blanket.

After bringing you to climax multiple times, your body glowed with vitality like a pearl, cheeks flushed dark with a serene smile adorning your face. Half of your body draped over him, your elegant fingers traced lazy circles on his bare chest, while Bi-Han’s hand caressed the smooth skin of your back. In that moment, he felt complete, as if a part of him that he didn’t even know was missing had been found. It was as if you were both separate individuals yet inexplicably intertwined—each completing the other.

When your fingers ceased their movement altogether, Bi-Han glanced down to see why, his heart swelling with warmth. You had drifted off to sleep, your face relaxed in slumber, lips slightly parted. You appeared so peaceful that Bi-Han couldn’t bring himself to disturb you. This wasn’t the first time you had fallen asleep beside him, and each time, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride and a burning desire to protect you. He knew you trusted him enough to reveal your vulnerability in these moments.

His mind was more at ease than ever before. Even though he was in his own home, with you beside him, he felt a sense of belonging that he had never experienced before. Especially during the times he awaited your arrival, he had never felt such intense longing to see someone again—your presence shaking his very core, pushing the limits of his endurance. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could bear being without you; your absence felt like torment, while your presence transformed him into a different man altogether.

Although the notion of someone having such power over him would typically be unsettling, he couldn’t view it negatively because it was you. What concerned him more was the possibility of others noticing—the fear that his enemies might discover you, exploiting his vulnerability by hurtin you.

Two and a half months had passed since he last laid eyes on you, adding to the weight of the task Lord Liu Kang had bestowed upon him and his brothers. He longed to complete this mission swiftly and reunite with you, yearning for the calming embrace of your presence. The strain of constant vigilance was taking its toll on him, both mentally and physically, culminating in his recent capture alongside Kuai Liang.

Navigating the stone corridors of Ying Fortress, Bi-Han found himself flanked by a dozen soldiers, with Kuai Liang by his side and Shang Tsung and General Shao ahead of them. Shang Tsung’s words fell on deaf ears as Bi-Han contemplated his next move, steadfast in his refusal to entertain any offers from these unfamiliar men. His focus remained fixed on devising an escape plan to extricate himself from this predicament. As they traversed the corridor into a vast area, Bi-Han was confronted by a multitude of stone sculptures lining the space. Hindered by the restraints on his wrists, he scanned the area for any potential means of escape, exchanging a knowing glance with Kuai Liang, who mirrored his uncertainty.

“Father?”

Bi-Han’s eyes widened at the sudden sound of a familiar, albeit unexpected, female voice behind them. Sensing Kuai Liang’s reaction, he knew it wasn’t a trick of his imagination. With a swift turn, his heart raced as he watched the soldiers before him part, revealing your approach. What the hell were you doing here?

“What’s going on here — Bi-Han?” Your wide-eyed astonishment mirrored his own. As Bi-Han scanned you for any signs of harm, he moved to approach you. But before he could reach, a soldier struck him in the stomach with the tip of his weapon, causing him to stagger backward.

‘’Stop! What do you think you’re doing?!” Your voice, tinged with worry as you shoved the soldier aside, your anxious eyes locking with his. “Bi-Han, are you all right?”

“What are you doing here?” Bi-Han growled out a whisper, tension taut in his voice.

“I’m asking you the same.”

“What is the meaning of this? Do you two know each other?” Shang Tsung’s voice sliced through the hushed talk, prompting Bi-Han to instinctively shield you, despite the restraints on his hands. Determined to protect you at all costs, Bi-Han urged you to take cover behind him, his voice laced with venom. “Get behind me.” he commanded, his grip tightening protectively around your arm.

“There is no need. He is my father.” You revealed, catching Bi-Han off guard with the unexpected revelation. Stunned by the revelation, Bi-Han chastised himself for not piecing together the clues sooner. Living in Outworld, soul magic, an enigmatic father figure—it all suddenly made sense. Yet, your stark differences in character from your father only deepened Bi-Han’s sense of disbelief.

“Why are they prisoners?” you questioned, your gaze flickering between your father and the imposing figure of General Shao and the eerie aura that seemed to surround them.

“They attacked us.” General Shao asserted, his voice gruff as he responded to your inquiry. “We were about to take care of business before you came, sorceress.” Despite Shao’s attempt to intimidate you with his imposing presence, Shang Tsung interjected before Bi-Han, shooting Shao a warning glance.

“They attacked?” Your gaze flickered momentarily, silently questioning the situation. ‘Why?’ The unspoken question hung in the air, directed at Bi-Han. “I’m sure there’s been a misunderstanding.”

“They were sent here by Liu Kang’s order. To catch us and maybe kill us.” Shao divulged, his voice dripping with hostility.

“Why so? Nobody has told me anything since I was brought here, and even now you still insist on not telling me. I want to know what’s going on. Tell me the truth.”

“Walk with me,” Shang Tsung interjected, gesturing towards a secluded area. With a final, anxious glance towards Bi-Han, you complied, flanked by Shao and Shang Tsung. Bi-Han’s instincts screamed to follow, but he was thwarted by the soldiers’ firm grip. Initially, Bi-Han braced himself for a sense of betrayal, believing that you had concealed Shang Tsung’s identity as your father. However, upon reflection, he realized that you had always been forthcoming with him, never hiding the truth about your father. Bi-Han had simply never asked. Your genuine reaction to the unfolding events affirmed your honesty. It became evident that Shang Tsung had dragged you into this situation without explanation. All that mattered now was escaping with you safely by his side.

‘’You seem quite invested in these men, (Y/n),’’ Shao remarked in a harsh tone, his words more of a probing question than a mere observation.

‘’It’s none of your concern, General Shao.’’ You retorted firmly.

‘‘But it is my concern,’’ interjected Shang Tsung, his tone authoritative. ‘‘As your father, I demand to know the nature of your association with the infamous grandmaster of the Lin Kuei.’’

‘’Before you question me, father, perhaps you should first explain your activities over the past months. Then, and only then, will I consider divulging any information.’’ you countered. ‘’You dragged me here without giving me an explanation, expecting blind trust. It’s not fair, and you know it. You’re exploiting my kindness, I deserve some answers.’’

‘’I was promised my true potential, and I’m going to get that right back. You’re my blood and flesh, I want nothing more than to secure you a good and wealthy future, I want what is best for you—for us.’’ Shang Tsung continued to talk as he walked towards a dark-colored box that looked like some kind of chest. ‘’Take a look around, do you remember what I told you about this place?’’

You watched him with hesitant eyes, then looked around you before answering his question.

‘‘Yes, you said that Emperor Ying’s Dragon Army was here.’’

‘‘Very true. What I told you was not just a fairy tale. These statues were constructed and enchanted by the great mages in the Emperor’s court.’’ Shang Tsung opened the lids of the box, took out a crown and a small green bottle, and emptied the contents of the bottle onto the crown. ‘‘They are animated by the fragments of souls. Once alive they fight tirelessly, unburdened by remorse or pity.’’

‘’What are you planning to do with these?’’ You said, your voice overflowing with obvious concern now.

‘’If they won’t be on our side,’’ Shang Tsung murmured with a half-smile, placing the crown on his head. ‘‘Then I will eliminate them. This is what I had to do, for our future.’’

The moment he finished his words, six of the soldiers standing a little further away stepped forward, and with mind control, moving nimbly despite being made of stone, they began to descend the steps towards them. Bi-Han’s muscles tensed involuntarily, his body as taut as a drawn bowstring as he observed the approaching stone soldiers. If only he could get rid of these damn handcuffs…

‘’No!” Your panicked scream echoed through the vast area as you summoned your magic, green energy crackling around your outstretched hand in an attempt to halt the advancing soldiers. When you realized your magic was ineffective against them, your attention swiftly shifted back to your father.

“Father, stop this!” Startled by your sudden movement and desperate cry, Shang turned his attention to you, momentarily caught off guard. Seizing the opportunity, you darted forward, delivering a powerful blow to his knee, causing him to buckle and kneel before you. With him immobilized for a moment, you snatched the crown from his head and placed it on your own. ‘‘I’m sorry, father, but I cannot allow this.’’

‘’Have you lost your mind?!’’ While Shang Tsung was looking at you with stunned and greatly betrayed eyes, despite the distance, Bi-Han could see tears welling in your eyes. ‘’I am your father! My blood runs through your veins; your loyalty should lie with me.’’

‘‘I know, and I am sorry,’’ you said, your voice trembling with emotion. ‘’But I love him.’’ Both Shang Tsung and Bi-Han froze with surprise at your unexpected reveal, their expressions a mix of shock and disbelief. Your breath came out quickly, the air heavy with tension as a few tears escaped from your eyes, glimmering in the light. ‘’That’s why I cannot stand by and watch you harm him.’’

“(Y/n), behind you!” Kuai Liang’s urgent shout jolted you into action, narrowly dodging Shao’s axe at the last moment. With Shao bearing down on you, Bi-Han could no longer stand idly by. Keeping you in his sight, he and his brother sprang into action, combating Shao’s soldiers amidst the chaos, using the handcuff chains to choke one of the soldiers.

Despite your efforts to evade Shao’s attacks and deflect them onto the stone statues, he effortlessly dispatched them with a few swings of his axe. You tried to keep up with him, but as a healer, your combat skills were lacking, evident in your reliance on the soldiers for protection as you dodged Shao’s attacks. Bi-Han had heard stories about Shao in the past, tales of his power and mercilessness in battle. But now, witnessing Shao’s sadistic enjoyment as he toyed with you, seeing the fear in your eyes, filled Bi-Han with fury and a desire to eliminate Shao.

‘‘Don’t harm her!’’ Shang Tsung intervened, hurling a fireball towards Shao, catching him off guard and forcing him back. “She is my daughter.”

Shao spat on the ground, unaffected by the smoke left behind by the fireball he countered with the tip of his huge axe. “And she betrayed us,” he growled. “You just proclaimed that we would eliminate those who oppose us, sorcerer. That’s precisely what I intend to do.”

As Shao swung his axe again, you pushed the last remaining statue in front of you for protection. However, under the force of Shao’s blow, the statue shattered, leaving a gaping wound from your shoulder to your rib cage. Crimson red blood splattered everywhere, your expression a mixture of pain and shock as you desperately tried to stay on your trembling legs. A pained groan escaped your lips as you stumbled backwards, Shao raising his axe for another strike, this time aiming for a fatal blow.

“No!” While Bi-Han was blowing off the soldier’s head he had knocked down with his foot, bloody brain pieces flew everywhere, his heart was in his mouth. He couldn’t bear to witness you lose your life before his eyes, with so little distance between you.

‘’I told you to stay away from my daughter.’’

In a stroke of luck, Shang Tsung once again caught Shao off guard with a barrage of fireballs, diverting his attention away from you at the last moment. Shao was thrown several meters away, gasping for breath, while Shang grasped you firmly, applying pressure to your wound. Your body tensed with pain, tears flowing freely from your eyes as you struggled to maintain a brave face.

‘’You will bandage this as soon as you get away from here. Do you understand?’’

‘‘Father-’’

‘’Do you understand?’’

‘’Yes.’’

‘‘Good, I’ll buy you time,’’ Shang Tsung urged, motioning for you to leave. ‘‘Take a few of the statues with you; they’ll provide protection until you’re out of here. I’ll find you once I’ve dealt with this.’’

With tears streaming down your cheeks, you managed to press a small, wet kiss to your father’s cheek, gratitude evident in your pale, tired face.

‘‘I’ll explain everything.’’

‘‘Later. Go now,’’ he insisted.

Bi-Han brutally incapacitated the last soldier before reaching you in a few wide strides. Shang’s gaze fixed on him for the first time since his arrival, promising death with its intensity.

“You’d better take care of my daughter, grandmaster. Otherwise, I’ll follow your soul to the Netherrealm,’’ warned Shang Tsung with a menacing tone.

‘‘I will protect her with my life.’’ Bi-Han asserted, though his agreement with his recent foe felt tenuous, the situation now imbued with personal stakes. Shang promptly removed the handcuffs from both him and his brother’s wrists, freeing them.

‘‘Go on quickly. The others will be here soon, so hurry up. My daughter will take you a shortcut.’’ directed sorcerer.

As Shao charged toward them, Bi-Han scooped you up into his arms, finding relief in having you close again. With urgency, he ran alongside Kuai Liang, ascending the steps and leaving the area behind. With your remaining strength, you compelled a dozen soldiers to follow, your hand still applying pressure to the wound. Upon reaching the corridor they had passed earlier, you weakly tugged at Bi-Han’s clothes to get his attention.

‘‘We can’t escape through the main exit, it’s too risky. There’s a passageway from behind the fortress leading towards the mountains; we can slip through unnoticed.’’ you suggested.

‘‘Tomas is out, we can’t leave him here.’’ His brother interjected.

‘‘Exactly where, I can use one of these statues to find and contact him.’’

‘‘He is where the Soul Stealers are.’’

With a deep breath, you closed your eyes and concentrated, sweat beading on your forehead as your skin paled. Despite the obvious pain, you maintained a resolute expression. As they reached a narrow area, your faint voice reached their ears.

‘‘I found Tomas. I’m getting him out through a different exit; it’s too risky for him to come this way.’’

‘‘Okay, we’re counting on you,’’ Bi-Han said, hoping to give you courage. You were so small and lifeless in his arms, though he couldn’t bring himself to say it, his heart ached with painful sorrow as he looked at you. If it weren’t for the faint rise and fall of your chest, he might have feared the worst; you were losing a lot of blood. The wound must have cut deeper than he thought. Bi-Han looked into his brother’s eyes, whatever expression there was on his face, Kuai Liang stopped walking for a moment and squeezed his shoulder, looking at him with understanding eyes.

‘‘We will save her, brother, don’t worry. She’ll be okay,’’ Kuai Liang reassured, and they proceeded to a small room at the end of the corridor. A statue opened the thick old door, revealing a landscape of snow-covered mountains.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

It was already dark when they met Tomas a little beyond the fortress, at the bottom of a frozen river. After you spent the rest of your strength to bring Tomas to them, you fell unconscious, Bi-Han had to hastily bandaged you because he knew he had to keep a distance between them and the fortress in case of getting caught. And when they decided to spend the night in a place that he believed was safe, he didn’t let you leave his side for a moment, even though he was with his brothers and they were safe for now. Tomas had left a short while ago to hunt some mountain hares for food, while Kuai Liang went out to gather supplies to sustain the fire he had kindled.

Bi-Han carefully cleaned the wound with the materials he had and bandaged it tightly. Your bleeding was still going on, but it wasn’t intense compared to the beginning, as long as you weren’t moving, it could buy time until he could get you home. But you would definitely have needed stitches in your wound.

‘’I can heal myself.’’ you muttered softly. Bi-Han didn’t even realize he had said the last part aloud, too focused on gently stroking your pale cheek with one hand while carefully examining you.

‘’How do you feel?’’

‘’Not at my best, but I’ll be fine.’’ You weakly replied. Even if you wanted to reciprocate the gesture by lifting your hand, which was resting on your lap, it was quite difficult for you to do so. Bi-Han noticed this, grabbed your hand, and guided it to his cheek, allowing you to caress it. ‘’Thank to gods, you look well. The others-’’

‘‘We’re all fine except you, don’t worry. You almost died.’’ The last part poured from his lips with great hatred, it felt terrible even to say it. He hated the blood on his hands even more. Seeing you in such a state filled Bi-Han with a profound sense of helplessness. He feared the worst, and it was the most intense fear he had ever experienced. Even now, it lingered in his mouth like a bad taste, causing a churning sensation in his stomach. His entire body felt ice-cold with stress, his instincts had gone into hyperawareness.

‘’It just grazed, it doesn’t even hurt. I swear.’’

"If it had cut deeper, you could have lost your arm as well as your life. It does not suit you to lie, (y/n). I still don't understand how you could be Shang Tsung's daughter."

‘’Are you angry?’’ As your voice quivered with uncertainty, Bi-Han tenderly placed a kiss on the top of your head, offering silent reassurance before you found the courage to speak again. ‘’It’s just… My father is a difficult man and kind of has a bad reputation. People are ready to attack him given the chance. I didn’t mean to hide it from you; I was just afraid you’d leave me once you knew the truth. I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you.”

‘’You think a sorcerer can intimidate me?” A small smile appeared on his lips as he continued to caress your cheek. After hearing your confession, he wanted nothing more than to reassure you and dismiss your fear. “I’m just confused and angry with myself for not seeing the signs earlier,” he said honestly. “I almost lost you, and besides that, nothing else matters.” While he continued to stroke your cheek with one hand, he didn’t break eye contact with you for a moment. He needed you to know that he was sincere in what he was about to say. “Today has been an important day for me to realize some things.”

Thanks to the heat emitted by the camp flame, he could easily discern your facial features. Despite the weariness evident in your eyes, there was a twinkle that betrayed your curiosity about what he had to say. Leaning in a little more, he shifted his body closer to yours, positioning you between his legs as he sat leaning against a tree. With a gentle touch, he lowered his hand from your cheek to your chin, lifting it slightly to plant a small, tender kiss on your lips.

With his cold breath mingling with your warmth, he whispered softly, “I love you.”

Caught off guard, you gazed up at him with wide, teary eyes, a breath catching in your throat. As a tear traced a soft path down your cheek, Bi-Han gently caught it with the tip of his finger, his own eyes filled with concern. Then, with the warmest and most sincere smile he had ever seen, you planted a kiss on his cheek.

‘’I’ve dreamed of this a few times, but I never thought you would express it.’’

‘‘Is that why you’re crying? If you’re hiding the truth about your shoulder causing pain-’’

‘‘I’m crying with happiness, my love. Now give me one more kiss so that I can believe in you better.’’

Bi-Han couldn’t help the smile settling on his face.

‘’As you wish.’’

253 notes · View notes

thr0wnawayy · 2 months ago

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Rei-Demption: A problem and my solution (ft. Rei's trauma and Hori's bullshit)

Might as well give my shot at it.

My take on Rei's personality has always been based in suppression.

Rei's whole life has been a balancing act of doing enough to protect her family, while still staying within the lines to not get disposed of.

She's everything Enji isn't. An iron will, a golden heart and a strong sense of empathy.

So with that in mind, hopefully it she'd light on it thought process with this post

A theory I have is that Rei was aware of the hospital's corruption

These panels always felt off too me, it always made me wonder: "does she know?"

The wording is very specific.

"I told him I liked it, around the first time we met. But only once"

It always struck me as odd, We're talking about the man who looked at his eldest death and kept going, man who destroyed multiple lives for a redundant pipedream.

It's not even why would he remember such a small detail, but rather how?

Unless... the doctors are feeding him information.

Think about it, who pays for all this. Surely it's not Fuyumi, on account of this being a massive money sink.

You really expect her to pay for all that on a teachers salary?

It can't be Natsuo because Enji has likely cut him off from everything to his name.

And that's assuming Enji even bothered to save up a college fund for any of them. Plus Natsuo is a full time student of medicine.

If the doctors are watching her every move, looking for any sign of deviation from the narrative then it makes sense for her to disguise her words.

Of course there's still more

Having PTSD isn't something you can keep someone institutionalized for. Especially when Rei's is very proportionate, given what she's gone through. (No, Japan's stigma of mental health wouldn't justify this)

I mean what are Rei's triggers?: Enji and that's about it.

"But we still... haven't met face to face, I'm still too afraid"

That's a standard reaction to have to your abuser (especially when he raped you multiple times)

('Just stop' gets a whole lot darker when you consider it's context)

Not to mention she's no longer fearful of anything resembling Enji, just Enji himself. So there is no real reason to keep her there unless they are afraid she might speak out.

This whole thing makes me think she's trying to tell Natsuo and Fuyumi what's really going on, in a way.

Subtly and under the calm, complacent mask she's expected to wear, in case anyone else is listening. Anyone who could report back to him.

It might also be she doesn't trust them. Fuyumi or Natsuo could blab or say something within earshot that could set Rei back months.

And she can't have that, not with how close she is to finally breaking free. She loves her children, all of them but the trust just isn't there, how can it be when when they don't have all the pieces.

So here's my theory: The hospital staff are in Enji's pockets. Either taking bribes (as recent as Dabi's Dance) or they were given a large sum of hush money when Rei was first hospitalized, with the goal of keeping her there as long as possible and possibly molding her to either keep her mouth shut or (sickeningly) gaslight her into returning to Enji.

(Note how she was only released when they could no longer keep a lid on things, the moment Dabi frops the bomb. She's out, no struggle)

This paints a picture of grotesque corruption, sloth and apathy (the very same cocktail that created Shigaraki) even by Hori's narrative standards. Shedding light on just how deep MHA's despotic nature goes.

The anime makes this even more apparent. Rei's fake smiles make the whole thing that much more viable. She seems so dead, it's like she smothered her soul or something.

I've seen both the sub and dub of this scene. The sub is the correct translation, the same as the Manga panel above.

The Dub however, while severly off mark, adds it's own flavour of dread. Rei sound so hollow, it was jarring the first time I heard it.

It sounded like she was reading a script (in-universe). Like she'd rehearsed this in her mind a million times, staring at the same 3 white walls + the window and waiting for an opening to finally speak.

That was supposed to be Shoto, until the dorms ruined that. Suddenly Rei's lifeline is gone, reduced to letters that don't even tell half the story.

10 years, 10 fucking years reduced to lines on a page.

Can you imagine the despair, dear reader?

The frustration. The sheer vitriol coursing thorough her veins, far hotter than Touya could ever manage.

Having to do the same thing she's been doing even before she was locked away. As the the skeleton in the closet of a criminal with a license.

Wearing masks for so long you can hardly breath and in the brief moments you can take them off. You can hardly recognize yourself, how you once were.

It must be the truest form of hell.

The Rei-demption Arc

Rei's redemption arc takes the attention of our theoretical arc without overtaking it.

The arc would mostly focus on the more domestic aspects of our trio being: Midoriya, Shoto and Uraraka.

A few minor changes would occur. The dorms never happen, allowing the characters to exist outside of UA.

There is solid confirmation that Fujiya is corrupt and is keeping Rei institutionalized on illegal grounds (ie: not meeting the criteria set up to ensure her silence)

The dinner scene would still happen only it would bd framed for what it really was. A pathetic attempt at creating a moment that never existed.

There's no family with Enji.

Just a family held hostage and a tyrant. I have my own grievances with Fuyumi, but I'll leave that for the future.

The only difference besides Natsuo being properly portrayed as a victim acting well within his right, the reasons for our trio going would be for Shoto's emotional wellbeing, because he asked them to.

Uraraka could have a moment where she realizes that money is as much as good as it is bad. An actually decent shift into her change of goals.

Here Enji motivates her to "watch the watchmen". Her need for money is still a crucial part of her reasons for becoming a hero, but she also has a more front and center goal.

I'd imagine she has a moment parallel to Midoriya's during the Sports Festival.

Where (alone in front of the Dojo after the failed dinner) she rightfully calls out Enji for being a self pitying piece of shit and that "sorry" doesn't cut it.

"You've hurt them in ways you can't imagine." Would probably be the last thing she says before walking away.

She may not know the whole story but she knows it hurt them and that's enough.

Rei's ascent

Rei's biggest hurdle is accepting that she was also an abuse victim. She's furious but she's only furious on her children's behalf and what they lost.

Her unintentionally harmful actions weigh on her, be it her neglect or the night she scalded Shoto, these events have impacted her deeply.

She learns to reconcile with her past, improve her relationship with Shoto and even meets Shoto's friends at one point.

Eventually she finds closure but that's later on.

She also acts as an advisor at times, having given Shoto the idea of using Ice projectiles (as seen in the Licensing Exam)

The second half comes from the Hospitals corruption, as Rei learns that she is long overdue for release (by about 8 years) among other horrific practices. This would play out as the arc's B plot, building up to what I call "The Summit"

The Summit

Eventually Rei fights Hood.

After gathering the evidence, she escapes the hospital. Planning to go to Natsuo for protection. As she's walking across a crosswalk however, she hears what sounds like an explosion.

Eventually she hears screaming and is forced to use her quirk as a bus is suddenly sent hurdling in her general direction.

As of her body moved on its own, she envelops it in her ice. Stopping the bus and saving those behind her in the process.

Only to see Hood land on top. They lock eyes and Rei can't help but see Touya in Hoods ambition.

In response to Rei holding her ground, Hood dashes. Rei counters this by manipulating her ice to send him crashing into an empty building, impaling him on the glaciers end.

Hood is impressed by Rei's proficiency and chooses to fight her.

Rei having no experience, fights for her life. Where as Rei avoids Civilians, Hood has no care for them which forces Rei to play the role of hero.

Rei uses every weapon in her arsenal in order to stave off Hood, who only gets more relentless as the battle stretches on. The upside is Hood's regeneration struggles in the cold, which Rei is constantly producing.

Each side gets blows in, with Rei taking them surprisingly well but still being worse for wear. Hood notes this saying "as if y-you've done t-t-this before" (close, Hood very close)

Eventually Hood gets the upper hand, towering over Rei in a manner that triggers her PTSD and leaves her stunned.

One of the civilians (Horoshi Tameda) emboldened by Rei's efforts, picks up a loose chunk of pavement and chucks it at Hood's back. It hits, causing Hood to look back.

Civilians begin making loud noise, others begin picking up anything they can find and throw it at Hood. Further catching him off guard long enough for Rei to snap out of her episode and strike back.

From here the fight kicks into high gear, with Rescue heroes & paramedics arriving on the scene and a camera crew recording the fight from above. Overall I imagine the scene to be very uplifting, with the Orchestra swelling as Rei prepares a final attack.

The move rivals that of Shoto's, arguably even surpassing it. Hoof is incased in a prison of Ice, covering an entire city block worth of destroyed buildings. And the fight finishes with Rei collapsing to her knees.

From here on out things change. Rei's newfound fame leads to the hospital being forced to do their job. Because of this Rei gets out early (around the time the Internship arc would started had I not scrapped it)

As for what this could lead to I'll let you decide. I'd love to read some suggestions.

Bonuses:

Theories:

The reason they kicked Fuyumi from her job is because she covered an abuser's ass for years. While Fuyumi is a victim, it doesn't excuse her complacency in regards to Enji's treatment of Shoto before and after his "self pity" arc.

Natsuo didnt go to someone because he wouldn't likely be believed, being seen as bitter and untrustworthy (his time away from home wouldn't help with pinning evidence).

Extra:

Hood survived the fight, Rei opted to capture him as opposed to kill him. That doesn't mean he didn't get frost bite. Police found out it is very difficult to question a Nomu.

Out of all her trauma. Rei accepting she was never given a choice will be the hardest to accept.

Rei's family is not inbred, rather her parents ran away so her father wouldn't be forced into a marriage with his cousin. Only to ironically do the very same to their daughter.

Hiroshi still becomes a meme, his 'Can't you see speech' leads to him becoming a motivational speaker.

The reason Hood appeared is because Dabi lost track of him. He nearly had a heart attack when he discovered his mom was holding the Nomu off.

#bnha critical #mha ewe #mha rewrite #anti enji todoroki #anti endeavor #anti bakugo katsuki #anti kohei horikoshi #bnha rewrite #mha critical #justice for rei himura #the nomu deserved better #destro didn't kill himself

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starryknight-tarot · 1 year ago

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18+ 𝓣𝓱𝓮𝓲𝓻 𝓯𝓪𝓷𝓽𝓪𝓼𝓲𝓮𝓼 𝓪𝓫𝓸𝓾𝓽 𝔂𝓸𝓾

pile 1 -- > pile 2

pile 3 -- > pile 4 my masterlist<3 . paid readings

Hi beautiful souls!✨ I am back with my first +18 reading which means if you are younger than 18 please do not interact with this reading as it is not for you. I will be looking into your person's fantasies about you. This could be a crush, partner, future spouse, fwb, whatever you have in mind. Remember to meditate, take a deep breath and pick whatever pile calls to you the most. Make sure to take what resonates and leave what doesn't. Lastly, I would like to thank you for all your love and support on my readings. It means a lot ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა

Pile 1

Cards: Four of Cups, Page of Wands rx, Two of Wands, The Emperor, The Tower, Nine of Cups, Ace of Cups rx, The Fool rx Back of the deck: Two of Cups

Pile 1, your person has to restrain themselves from you. I am getting that your person has been crushing on your for a very long time but they feel too nervous to approach you with a love offering. I keep hearing this could be your best friend or a close friend but this may not be for everyone. But your person has A LOT of unattended feelings towards you that is getting harder and harder (wink wonk) to hold back. This person has a lot of passion towards you and really wants to rip your clothes off I keep hearing. If you let them, they would show you a good time. For some reason your person feels scared to really tell you how they feel cause they are afraid you are gonna reject them. But I feel like they may distance themselves because they can't control themselves around you. They may get an erection or wet when they are around you. They want to make sure your pleasure comes first. This person likes to give head. This person wants to be the best fuck you've ever had. I keep hearing they wanna kiss you all over your body, so this person definitely is into body worshiping. I heard they wanna show you how beautiful you are (aw). This might come through with gentle words in your ear as they wreak you. If you are into roles, your person seems like either soft dom or a service sub, making sure you're ok and they would have AMAZING aftercare. I am getting pretty vanilla vibes but it would be very passionate sex with a lot of emotion and love. I am hearing they would pour all their love for you in bed. Your person would love to see you in lingerie, especially lighter colors. They may want to fuck with the lingerie on. I am getting that your person may get jealous if anyone else were to see you like that so they would wanna keep things in the bedroom or around the house if nobody else was home, I'm hearing specially the washing machine. But they would make the room super comfortable with candles, dim lights, and rose petals on fancy occasions. Ok listen this may sound spooky but they wanna watch you sleep, I don't think in a creepy way, I think in a very loving way like would just be so happy to have you. Your person really wants to take action on this connection but they are a little too anxious and in their head to take action. You will probably be the one to move this relationship forward.

Advice Cards:

Expect good things to come to you Issues of balance are at hand You are moving beyond your old form. Congratulations! Keep the faith. Stay intentioned. Your perseverance will pay off. Take good care of yourself, especially your heart. Put your tasks and goals in order

Channeled Songs:

Pile 2 Cards: Six of Swords, Death, Five of Wands rx, Three of Pentacles rx, Knight of Cups rx, Temperance, Ace of Swords, Page of Pentacles Back of the deck: The Magician

I feel like by just making eye contact with this person, you can bring them to their knees. Your person could be your ex but I am hearing more of a past fling or maybe just an old crush of yours that you might not have seen for a while. very specific lol. This person regrets not asking you out or waiting too long to make a move. They want to make up for lost time. In the bedroom (͠≖ ͜ʖ͠≖). They have a lot of confidence that they can make you feel really good. They wanna make you orgasm multiple times. If they have a dick, they have a big dick or like the perfect dick for you. If not I am hearing they may have large labia or a big strap on. This person wants to try every position with you but I am getting that they prefer cowgirl and doggy cause they wanna see your body. Your whole body is a huge turn on for them. Your person wants to whisper things like "Nobody else can make you feel this good" and "You're all mine". Very possessive energy but I'm not getting in a toxic way. They may be a little jealous of someone around you Pile 2. Your person wants to try all the toys with you. They imagine coming home with a bag of toys and trying all of them to see which ones make you feel the best. I also heard they are into punishments, they really like handcuffs specifically. But I think they also really like to give you praise when you do good, I am hearing "You are doing so well baby". I feel like you may think this person sleeps around and has a lot of experience but they either have a lot less than you have imagined or are a virgin. I feel like we are getting pretty dominant energy but I think this person is more of a switch and would love for you to take control of them. I heard mark them all over their body to show people they belong to you. They would love that so much. Your person has very kinky energy but they may also like sex passionate, slow and sensual. A lot of eye contact and hand holding. Your person may not like to have a one night stand or a friends with benefits relationship. I am getting that they would only make these moves if you were together. This pile seems to be the most fun and less serious when it comes to sex.

Advice Cards: You need to make the first move It is important to ask for help This challenge is intended to promote your growth Deep, deep down, something needs attention Seek to understand from a place of connection rather than separation Have a closer look at your family situation

Channeled Songs:

Pile 3 Cards: Two of Wands, Two of Swords rx, Justice rx, Seven of Swords rx, Knight of Pentacles rx, The Hermit, Ten of Pentacles, Ace of Pentacles, The Emperor Back of the deck: Three of Wands

Your person has a lot of emotions for you Pile 3. I am getting this could be someone you had a falling out with or had a big fight with. Although I am getting that this fight will end almost as quickly as it started. But your person wants to keep up the energy. This fight has got your person all hot and bothered and now they wanna let it out. They are very into makeup sex, they may feel like makeup sex is slightly better than regular sex. I am hearing "I won't leave a single part of your body untouched" and "You won't be able to move when I am done with you". All piles have been pretty dominate but I think your person has been the most dominate out of all the piles. Your person wants to go all night Pile 3. They want the neighbours to know who you belong to. They like to have very rough sex, multiple rounds. They wanna grab you everywhere. Your person like foreplay a lot less than the act itself. Your person is really into receiving head, pulling your hair while they contain moans but fail. I am getting your person is very vocal in bed. Your person may like both of you getting off by yourself while they tell you want to do. This could be a long distance relationship. For some of you they may like to watch as you get fucked by someone else, telling both of you want to do. Your person may like to choke you (safely) while they ruin you. They want to claim you, they may have a breeding kink. They imagine coming inside of you and making you hold it inside while you go out. "If you can hold it all, you will reward you when we get home". If you are a woman, they want to see you pregnant. That really turns them on. I feel like they would be really rough and aggressive in bed but if you use a safe word or show any discomfort, they will turn dom mode off and immediately take care of you. Consent and safe sex are really important to them. I am hearing that sex with them is something to gossip about. That would really fuel their ego. I feel like people may not expect that from them. They make look skinny or weak but is actually super muscular. They could also be shorter in height. I feel like your person's dirty secret is that they want you to overpower them and degrade them. Advice Cards:

Keep your faith. Stay intentioned. Your perseverance will pay off You are intuitively gifted. Trust your guidance You have more power than you think Align body, mind, and spirit. Know that you are whole You are divinely protected. Remind yourself how safe you are Make your presence felt

Channeled Songs:

Pile 4 Cards: Queen of Pentacles rx, Seven of Cups, Four of Swords, Four of Wands rx, The Hierophant, Four of Cups, Three of Wands Back of the deck: King of Cups

I think you were your person's sexual awakening Pile 4. They also could have been raised in a very religious household that looked down on sex and discouraged them to learn about anything sexual. Before they met you, they may have thought they were asexual or that they won't be able to find anyone but as soon as they found you something awaken in them. They were flooded with millions of emotions. You are the first person that ever made them feel these kinds of feelings. Now they want to catch up on what they missed with you. They want to try everything with you and see what makes both of you feel the best. Your person may want you to guide them through sex and teach them how to please you. Sex to your person seems very sacred and special, only with someone they completely trust and feel a connection with. I feel like your person would be into tantric sex, connecting with you on a spiritual level. I am hearing for some of you this person is your soulmate or twin flame. Your person imagines you screaming their name as they please you. It turns them on so much when you praise them and tell them that they are doing good. I really feel like your person wants to be dominate and please you but always end up crumbling under your touch. I am getting that you could easily make your person cum in their pants with just a few touches. They imagine you teasing them for how flustered they get and punishing them. They want to go all night, no breaks, they can't get enough. They have missed out on this for so long they want to make up for it. Your person may be really shy normally but is a total freak in bed. They are begging and pleading for you to touch them but you refuse them to mess with them. But when you finally give in, it's so passionate and hot oof. Your person wants to pour their heart out for you. It's always the quiet ones I heard lol. I also just heard step on me. I am seeing they want you to wear all leather and spank them. My goodness lol. They also imagine pleasing you while you sleep and waking you up with sex (consensually ofc). Your person craves your attention and touch.

Advice Cards:

Something you've planted is coming to harvest. Results are forthcoming! Be aware of your inner messages It is time to unclutter your body, mind, and spirit The issue at hand is about reflection. What is the mirror showing you? Relax and feel good. You deserve more joy! It is time to take appropriate action

Channeled Songs:

Thanks for tuning in₊‧.°.⋆🫧•˚₊‧⋆.

#tarot reading #pac reading #tarot #pick a pile #pick a card reading #pick a photo #pick a card #18+ tarot #18+ tarot reading #love tarot reading #love reading #Spotify

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manjiroscum · 2 years ago

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LILY OF THE VALLEY

Character/s: snow leopard hybrid!Rindou Haitani

Warnings: f!reader, mature language, explicit sexual themes, dark content, canon typical violence, blood, murder, dub-con, marking, mentions of mating, hybrid au, kidnapping, yandere!rindou, dom!rindou, sub!reader, cockdrunk reader, implied multiple rounds, dacryphilia, unprotected sex, breeding, blackmailing/threats, pet play, and use of pet names. Minors do not interact.

Note: commissioned by @httn 💜 thank you love for trusting me with this! i hope you like it 🫶

Synopsis: Only fools come out to play with a feral cat.

WC: 6.1k

Crimson specks marred the freshly fallen snow akin to wine spilled all over a white linen cloth. The bullet wound on his thigh was slowing him down. Nevertheless, Rindou trudged up the small hill to reach the other side of the forest hoping he would escape his pursuers that were looking through his busted car for any signs of life. With his teeth gritted, the lost man was sure he might die today. After getting separated from Ran and the others, a car chase occurred as he fled from the warehouse when a bomb about to blow up the building was shouted out. In all his years of doing the same song and dance, one could say Rindou got used to the chaos that has intertwined into his life since the day he was born with the need to experience thrills.

But, fuck, he could never get used to getting shot or bleeding out. The first time hurt like a bitch and the second time it happened made him want to pass out. It was more irritating to face than shoot those who dare touch his tail. Now, Haitani Rindou was sure he will die. Whatever plan those bastards cooked up that would confirm his demise, he had to give them props because they might succeed. Car dead, his phone without any signal, the temperature dropping fast, and a forest that may span a thousand hectares was just the starter pack he needed to die in these woods.

Rindou can’t die here. It would just be pathetic. So pathetic that they might make jokes out of it. His death would only make people say he deserved it or it is the consequence of having an unpleasant lifestyle. And honestly, fuck them. He has to live. He has to get out of here and seek shelter before the frost bites his fingers, ears, and toes off. What would his enemies think? What would Bonten do? What would Ran do?

What should he do?

A million thoughts raced through his mind as his knees finally gave away. His eyes fluttered close for a moment, inhaling the cold air sharply that he was quite sure it could cut his nostrils like blades made out of ice. A trail of blood followed him from where he started all the way to the top of the hill. In contrast to the icy atmosphere around him, his lungs burned. During these times, delusions would enter his mind to distract him from the impending doom that was looming above his head. Death was now breathing down his neck as if they were old friends. Its voice called out to him through the chilly breeze that brushed past him and the strong trees that appeared like shadows of those whom he wronged and killed to survive. If he had to guess what hell looked like, this was possibly the closest description minus the flames. Why would such a cold environment bother him in such a way? This has never happened before. He could think of countless reasons why a hybrid such as he who was meant to thrive in such an environment was slowing down.

Ah, that’s right… He never had to be out much to do his dirty deeds. It was always his underlings. Pawns who would readily obey him for various goals. He and Ran, without fail, get away from taxing jobs. After all, meaningless fights never appeased their appetite for violence. Something always had to interest the brothers for them to act. Looking back on those memories of merely partying and finding someone to toy with, Rindou couldn’t help but exhale deeply. His lips were chapped due to the lack of moisture in the air.

If my life is flashing before my eyes, perhaps I am indeed dying…

And yet, amidst the snow and harsh winds, a merciful angel came into view. Rindou thought he was already a goner for his eyes to conjure such a beautiful sight. Vivid colors murked into a blur as his vision steadily failed him due to exhaustion finally catching up to him. However, the second that angel spoke, voice soothing despite the panicked tone evident in it, he realized this was reality.

“Sir? Oh my god, w-wait. I need to call an ambulance—”

“N…o.” It took all of his strength to move his lips and tongue. The woman before him met his dazed stare, shifting her attention between Rindou and something behind her. “No am…bulance…”

“W-what? Why? No, you need immediate attention…”

Haitani Rindou, one of the infamous criminals Bonten has in their arsenal and the fearsome younger brother of Ran was still vulnerable to things that exude innocence. Perhaps it was just in his nature to be drawn toward something he can never be and so he tried to push away the person who came out on a snowy night to help him. This earned him a surprised expression and more questions he couldn't answer. Rindou’s efforts were in vain as his eyelids finally shut, and the last of his energy left him unconscious in the hands of a stranger.

I’m sorry, Ran…

There was a sea of trees you had to drive by to reach your parents’ house. The road was slippery due to the snow but you had to go after promising to drive carefully. After a hearty dinner and entertaining their inquiries about whether you will get married or not, you were set on heading back to your apartment. Tomorrow is Monday and you had to wake up early for your nine-to-five job at the cafe your cousin owned. Normally, your schedule ranged from mundane to the occasional unexpected events that usually revolved around your job or your parents. Yet they were never anything spontaneous or something that will make the hairs on the back of your hair stand until you had to rescue this man now sleeping on a makeshift bed in a veterinarian’s clinic.

Ignorance could sometimes save a person’s life. The second you saw the hanafuda tattoo on his neck, you knew the shit you were about to get into could get messy. Never had you ever thought of bringing an infamous person, let alone one of Bonten’s henchmen, into your home. The veterinarian you called for help swore his secrecy after he commended you for doing first aid, but commented that men like him shouldn’t be saved. Yet, your conscience wouldn’t let you sleep soundly at night if you left him there on a cold winter’s night to bleed to death or get feasted on by bears.

“Are you… his girlfriend or somethin’?”

“No, I’m not,” you responded while cleaning up the bloody clothing and gauze after Rindou’s wound was stitched up. “However, as a human being, I couldn’t just leave him there. I’m… not capable of such cruelty.” The man shifted his attention back to the dangerous person fast asleep and then squinted hard as if his patient was just pretending. Grunting, the veterinarian gathered the last of his tools into his bag and made his way to the door, but not before leaving you some sound advice.

“Be careful because this choice you made might just bite you back. I’ll be back as soon as possible when I find a doctor in the area. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure this secret doesn’t reach the authorities.”

Thinking back to what happened earlier, you were sure your blood ran cold at the sight of a broken car by the road. Initially, you thought the vehicle broke down and that the owner must be somewhere nearby since it would take around twenty minutes to get to the nearest town. Unless they had to hitch a ride because it was freezing and decided to leave the car. But the second you saw what seemed to be bullet holes in its body, uneasiness coated your nerves like thick molasses. The dread of finding a dead body doubled upon seeing blood on the snow, leading up to where you found the dying unknown man.

Damn it all. He wouldn’t harm someone who rescued him, right?

No, scratch that, this man wasn’t a stranger to you. You were the stranger—not him. Everybody who worked in Tokyo and heard the news was all aware of Bonten, the most dangerous gang in the country to date, enough to rival the yakuza. Those hanafuda tattoos they branded on their flesh bear the symbol of their loyalty to the man who founded the group, Sano Manjiro. The Haitani brothers were as famous all by themselves. It didn’t have to take you long to know everything they committed under the sun or the veil of night. Rumors of the brothers and Bonten always circulate on the internet. In short, they were individuals you had to avoid to live long.

Eyes glancing at your phone sitting by the couch, you debated whether to call the cops and turn him in. Maybe getting Rindou off your hands will be the first step to having your normal life back… Or will just cement the death sentence he shall bestow upon your unfortunate soul once he recovers.

“What the fuck am I supposed to do now?” you groaned into your hands. Sleep was out of the question. You had to monitor Haitani Rindou for two obvious reasons—one because he might wake up and two because he might silence you the second he does. Gruesome pictures of your death flashed on the television screen ran across your imaginative mind and honestly, you were scaring yourself. Clearly, you didn’t think this through. But, what’s done is done. There was no way you could throw him out now. “Let’s… just make sure he’s fine enough to walk out of here on his own. Y-yeah…”

Exhaling a defeated sigh, you sat down on the floor and stared at Rindou’s unconscious form. For a man as big and bad as him, you bet he would snore loudly. Yet, he looked almost like a corpse—unmoving and quite fragile. The biggest shirt you had at your disposal appeared tiny in his huge frame. The veterinarian even gave up on giving him something to wear on the lower part, muttering how he shouldn’t even be bothered to clothe the criminal. The thought of Rindou being naked down there was slightly distracting, making your eyes wander down from the hanafuda tattoo on his neck to the intricate design on his torso until you slapped your cheeks to make you stop eyeing the muscular hybrid.

What the—don’t do this to yourself. He is a criminal, for fuck’s sake!

Rolling your eyes, you grabbed your phone to check for any messages. There was only one from your mother, checking up on whether you arrived home. A humorless laugh escaped your lips as you lied to her. Besides, she will definitely panic if she knew you were looking after a criminal in a vet’s clinic. You hoped to distract your mind from spiraling into endless regret by watching adorable videos of dogs. A good turn deserves another… You just wished Haitani Rindou was a person who would reward good deeds.

The morning was rough on you. With a stretch or two, you cursed your aching back while you proceeded to order breakfast for three. Your cousin was kind enough to give you a day off after phoning in with a fake cold. The minute you finished offering him apologetic words after lying through your teeth, you then grabbed the takeout and sped off to the clinic Rindou was moved to. Caffeine and sweets were the things keeping you sane save for the veterinarian and a doctor, whom he roped into the situation, present in the room. Dr. Hinohara was silently observing Rindou’s body while giving a blood transfusion to the still-sleeping hybrid. Compared to last night, the younger Haitani looked slightly better. He still appeared like he crawled out of hell and survived, though.

“I guess we don’t have to bring this man to the hospital,” the doctor spoke after some time. “There doesn’t seem to be a bullet stuck to his thigh. He did lose a lot of blood. I’ll just make sure to monitor him in case he needs more blood transfusions and if there could be any infections on the wound. If he does turn for the worst, I will have to bring him to the hospital—”

You were quick to object, leaving your cup of coffee to stand up. “H-he told me he shouldn’t go to a hospital. I’ll pay you, Sir. I’ll make sure to pay you for treating him. J-just don’t bring him there. Please…”

Dr. Hinohara sighed at your statement, sharing a glance with the veterinarian. Just as you were ready to shoot down their suggestions of you putting an end to your good samaritan role, the doctor then nodded solemnly in resignation. Appeased, you backed away before sitting yourself down once again. Seeing that there wasn’t anything left for him to do, the veterinarian excused himself and left the establishment. A few minutes later, Dr. Hinohara did the same to attend to his outpatients. It wasn’t until lunchtime when he came back that you decided to head back home to catch some sleep after a long warm bath. To be in a room alone with Haitani Rindou, awake or not, was making you anxious. Your eyes were often fluttering close, trying to stay conscious and alert in the presence of an infamous gang member. To let your guard down would be serenading death.

“You can come back tomorrow afternoon,” Dr. Hinohara said with a gentle smile upon seeing you out. “I don’t think Mr. Haitani would wake up today anyways. Go home and get some rest. I’ll call you if anything changes about his current condition.”

“Thank you, Dr. Hinohara.”

If you knew that the day you saved Haitani Rindou would be the last time you could ever experience a normal life, perhaps the future wouldn’t turn out like this—with you almost sticking to a corner whereas Rindou glared at your quivering form. Dr. Hinohara was nowhere to be found on the second floor and your mind concocted various scenarios at the sight of the trashed room. How could the man be up and ready to threaten you with his sharp claws when he was just barely conscious days ago? You even recall Dr. Hinohara remarking about Rindou being too weak to open his eyelids. So just how?

Irises sharp as his claws remained on you, hues of ultra violet hoping to unmask your intentions by staring right into your soul. Behind his predatory gaze were promises filled with violence and a whole world of pain if you so much as make a single move that he will deem a crime towards him.

Haitani Rindou was not a man to be trifled with.

“You… Didn’t I tell you not to bring me to a hospital?” he questioned in a demanding tone, taking a step closer to you which prompted your weak legs to fall back. This is the very thing you hoped to avoid. Maybe if you were given the foresight that Haitai Rindou would recuperate enough to stand today, you would have come prepared to negotiate. Negotiate with him not to kill you and to leave you alone because you did what he asked. However, he didn’t seem happy at the idea of recovering in a clinic, afraid his location would be alerted to the police. “What’s the matter? Suddenly can’t use that tongue of yours? From what I remember you weren’t mute—”

“This isn’t a hospital. Y-you’re in a clinic, can’t you see?”

The hand you used to gesture at the area shuddered upon seeing him move. Rindou was obviously confused as he surveyed the room, unsure whether to take your word or not. You couldn't blame him, though. Blood rolling down his thigh akin to raindrops on a glass window captured your attention, taking away the assertive statements off of your lips. Your fear for him was outweighed by your concern for his wound that might have reopened due to his carelessness.

Rindou was quick to create distance between you two. Your eagerness was mistaken as an act to lunge and subdue him which was something you couldn't do. He realized this the moment he winced in pain, hand applying pressure on his bleeding thigh. You clicked your tongue and hurriedly helped him back onto his bed. His hostility towards you disappeared with each pang of pain that erupted around his injury. Of course, he just had to be slowed down by this and for you, this was a blessing in disguise.

“Stay here, okay? I’ll go see if Dr. Hinohara has returned.”

Any deity above must have heard your silent prayer for the doctor announced himself inside Rindou’s room, eyes wide at the condition of his patient and the messy room. Minutes passed, and the hybrid was now waiting for the pain to subside once his wound was attended to. Lips in a tight line, you sat by the side, waiting for the doctor to say something—anything that will get rid of the awkward air that settled in the room. Instead of something positive, Dr. Hinohara approached you with a dejected expression that caused your heart to momentarily stop beating. His next words almost had you wishing you were sitting down due to the implications of it.

“I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t do this since I am a practitioner of medicine and should have empathy for my patients no matter who they are… But I can’t have Mr. Haitani stay here any longer. You must understand. My other patients have caught a whiff of his presence here and are too scared to come over. I-it’s bad for me.” Dr. Hinohara then added to soften the blow, “If he stays over at your place, I-I promise to visit and check on him from time to time. Although, I doubt I could do much since he’s close to full recovery.”

Bullshit.

It was utter bullshit. There was no way his other patients knew about Rindou being treated in the clinic. Based on the days you visited the hybrid when he was still unconscious, everyone who visited the doctor didn’t display any signs of uneasiness. Yet, you couldn’t do anything to appeal for Rindou anymore since the doctor was more than eager to kick him out. For all you know, the hybrid trashing the room was his last straw.

Exhaling a heavy sigh, you turned the stove off and poured the hot soup into two bowls. The Bonten executive sat on the living room couch, watching a daytime show. He was unbothered by the small space of your apartment, thankfully. Rindou barely fussed upon arriving, probably because he did not have any other choice. Even with his infamous reputation, throwing him out was inhumane.

You wanted to help him, but it has been years since you took care of someone sick or injured. Plus, your mother’s temperament was far different from Rindou's.

“You okay with miso soup?”

Rindou merely grunted in response, avoiding your gaze while he took his bowl from you. Fighting the urge to roll your eyes at his moodiness, you took the seat across from him prior to drinking the soup you made. For the hybrid to keep sulking like this, you figured it was because his wound hasn't fully healed, and limped every time he walked. Men like Rindou hated weakness. To display his vulnerability to you like this must be torture to the mighty snow leopard hybrid—someone who isn't used to being on the other side of the spectrum.

Yet, he never dismissed your acts of assistance. No matter how much you teased him in an attempt to lighten the mood or receive his narrowed gaze, Haitani Rindou never made a move to hurt you during his stay here. Or at least that is what he's trying to do—to lure you into a sense of comfort before he strikes like an apex predator. Nevertheless, you continued to meet his needs.

“You okay?” you asked him when his spoon fell to the floor. Your legs were up and running to get a towel once you saw what happened. He dropped his spoonful of miso soup on his bandages because his limpid eyes couldn’t be torn from the show he claimed was too boring. “Mr. Haitani, you shouldn't pay attention elsewhere while eating.”

“Can’t help it,” he answered with a scoff. A ghost of a laugh slipped past your mouth at the thought of him acting almost like he was a big cat distracted by the pretty colors that led to this situation. Shaking your head, you wiped off the droplets of miso soup from his thigh. After you tossed the towel to the side, you stood up straight and placed your hands on your thighs. Rindou’s tail went stiff at your stare which was accompanied by a smile. “What?”

“Are you… enjoying the show? I thought you found it boring?” The giggle that followed your inquiry did not go unnoticed by the hybrid. The tips of his ears turning red were proof of that. Hearing no reply, you continued to tease him. Your hands are busy fixing up the couch before taking your bowl once more. “I mean, it’s alright to admit you like these soap operas. My mom enjoys them too, you know. Well, not enough to be—”

“I wasn't distracted,” he huffed and averted his gaze at your silly smile. “I was just… surprised.” Rindou never elaborated further on whatever stunned him. You merely shrugged and slurped your soup, content with sitting next to him on a Thursday morning. This has been your life lately—taking care of breakfast and Rindou in the morning, going to work afterward, and then coming back during lunchtime. Despite the reasons you came up with, your cousin never questioned you as to why you requested to come in later than your usual hour. He did, however, tasked you to stay until closing time. A small price to pay. After all, this isn't going to be the norm forever. Rindou will have to go back home and disappear from your life as soon as his wound heal.

Somehow, the reality had sorrow creeping up your heart. Rindou staying in the apartment and seeing him every day made you think he has always been there. His sulky expression softens up whenever his guard is down. He wasn't even aware the corner of his lips was curling up once. The way he dismisses you the second he realized he was showing happiness was cute in its own way. You were used to stifling your laughter at his displeased face that did not match well with his tail swishing side to side. His silhouette blended into your little space, making himself at home. And unbeknownst to you, Rindou felt the same way.

“Don’t act like such a big baby. It’s good for you!” You pushed the plate of rice with natto on top. His irked expression eased down while he took his chopsticks. The smell of the fermented soybeans did not sit well with his nose as he ate to appease you. Yet, he willingly ate, especially with you grinning in front of him. “There you go. That wasn't so hard, was it? Can’t believe a gangster like you dislikes natto.”

Innocent things like you were bad for his health. You were poison to his system—having him think of stuff he never gave a second thought on. Rindou lost count of how many ideas of him whisking you away where no one else can see you crossed his mind. Everything about you exuded a normal and peaceful life—a luxury for him who couldn’t afford it anymore. He should’ve turned you away and let himself die that night because now he didn’t want to leave. His wound was almost closed up and he didn’t have to limp around or ask for your help whenever he bathed. Rindou has grown far too fond of you to merely go back and forget about your kindness. For your sake, he held himself back and enjoyed you doting on him despite the numerous teasing you’ve thrown his way. Pretty but lethal flowers were only meant to be admired from a safe distance. Preferring to keep his claws hidden and the space between you wide, Haitani Rindou liked it this way.

Until he didn’t—until he got greedy.

Dr. Hinohara just had to burst the bubble Rindou protectively held with a single statement that the hybrid was free to go. You couldn’t describe the emotion that swirled within you, ignorant to the deathly stare Rindou gave the doctor. Dr. Hinohara swallowed thickly at the heat of his gaze, slowly taking a step back in case the hybrid decided to kill him on the spot. The younger Haitani wished he could turn back time and stop the old bastard from revealing his secret. Despite sabotaging the stitches for so long to keep it from healing too fast, Rindou’s game was up. And yet, not all of his cards were played.

His trump card has yet to fall onto the table.

Ran came over to your apartment the second Rindou rang him up after a month of no contact. The reunion happened under the stillness of the night where not a soul could be found on the streets. The chloroform his older brother brought was put to use to make sure you wouldn't scream or do any trouble as he placed you in Ran’s car. Rindou then discarded the baton hidden at the back of the trunk, already cleaned off of Dr. Hinohara’s blood, into the nearest waste bin before letting Ran drive down the road heading south.

The moment you woke up from what you thought was a terrible nightmare, you were chained to a bedpost in an unfamiliar room in someone else’s bed. The collar on your neck was a bit tight and the chain attached to it wasn't long enough for you to reach the door. A little bell was hanging on the collar and it jingled with every movement you made. You thanked your lucky stars that you were still fully clothed but that feeling of relief waned away too fast. Your head pounded while your eyes frantically searched for signs of where you are. Rindou entered the room with a tray of food. His eyes slightly went wide at the discovery of you greeting the conscious world then his lips broke out into a grin.

“I see you’re awake.”

“R-Rindou? W-what… Where am I? What’s going on?”

Your inquiries fell from your mouth like the teardrops on your cheeks at the realization. Rindou hushed you multiple times while he set your meal down on the nightstand but you never took heed, fearing for your life. It wasn't until he took out his phone to show you a picture of your parent’s house that your tongue felt like it was made out of metal. Your hands balled up into fists at the image.

“Don’t hurt them. P-please…”

“Looks like you're smart enough to guess what I’m implying here, huh?” Rindou chuckles at your horrified tear stricken face. “I guess calling you a big baby right now won’t be satisfying.” Hand underneath his chin, the hybrid let out a contented sigh. “I knew I was right. Other girls I’ve met before weren't as intelligent as you. Saves me from explaining what will happen to your family if you try to escape.”

“What do you want from me?” you demanded, nerves and voice shaky. His irises shone brighter than amethysts as he observed you on his bed. After a month of nursing him back to health, Rindou was intent on returning the favor—just without outside interference, of course. There was no way your parents would allow him to date you and to see you with a faceless nobody would be the icing on top of his cake meant to insult him. He can't have that. “Rindou, what do you want? I-I’ll do anything! Just please leave me and my parents alone. If you want an apology for all those days I’ve teased you or said something wrong, I’m w-will to do so!”

“Nothin’ much, angel. I’ve passed the need for anything.” He then pulled you up by the collar of your shirt. Leaning down to whisper into your ear, Rindou’s lips curled up. “I’ve already got you.” The second he spoke those words, a shiver ran down your spine. Not giving you any time to collect your thoughts or to wipe the tears from your cheeks, the Bonten executive took a step back and gestured at your clothes. “Strip.”

Hands trembling, you did as he said. More tears exited from your glossy eyes which Rindou couldn't wait to lick away. As soon as you got rid of your pajamas, you covered your exposed stomach and breasts until he clicked his tongue. You winced at the sound of it.

“All of it, angel.”

You heaved a deep breath. Your panties slid down your legs agonizingly slow. The rest of your body burned in shame under his piercing gaze. It was as if Rindou would be struck by lightning if he dared to look away from your gorgeous form. You steeled yourself once he took away your clothes.

“Go and eat your meal. I’ll be back.”

Rindou shut the door behind him. You couldn't stop crying even while you ate the meal he prepared. It was hard to know where you were as the window was bolted shut and barely let natural light in. Your heart beats wildly inside your chest whereas you stiffened at the sight of him returning. His violet irises landed on the empty plate before nodding approvingly.

“Good. I’m going to give you a drink now.” He took off the chain from the bedpost and pulled it for you to follow him. But not before commanding you to do it on all fours. His sharp canines peeked out when he smiled at your obedience. The fear strumming its chaotic cords to have you obeying the hybrid. “That’s it, angel. Make sure not to bump into anything on the way to the kitchen.”

Even with Rindou as your sole audience, your soul was close to dying out of shame. Your pussy folds were out in the open, clit throbbing uncontrollably for the wrong reasons as you followed him from behind. It didn't take you long to figure out this was Rindou’s house—or his temporary home. You were too busy making sure you were keeping up with his huge steps and not falling behind to scan your surroundings. The hybrid then paused and turned to you. His hand gestured to a bowl made for a pet sitting on the floor. It was filled up with what seemed to be milk.

“Go on. Drink it all up, angel.”

Cheeks burning, you hesitated for a second. It was when he walked behind you that the panic kicked in again and you unwillingly bent down. Your tongue was stuck out, ready to lick up the milk to appease Rindou, deaf to the sound of unzipping. The palm of his hand was cold against your cunt, causing you to yelp. His free hand was quick to keep your head from turning around to see him.

What the fuck is happening?

“You’re not the only one who’s thirsty… Shit, you’re wet?” He was more amused than disgusted at his findings. This was fucked up. There was no way you were turned on despite what occurred. Maybe you were sick in the head all this time and Rindou’s actions just brought this to light? You would never know as your mind started to grow hazy due to the pleasure of him rubbing his palm across your slit. You were no virgin but it has been a long time since you’ve done it. Perhaps that was the reason why?

Why does it feel like that’s a lie?

Retracting his claws, he plunged two of his fingers into your warm pussy that parted easily for him. Front teeth digging into your lower lip, you kept back the moan bubbling up your throat while Rindou rubbed his fingers against your tight walls. Slick coated his hand which made it easier for him to feel around your gummy walls. His pleased groans were too much for your ears, his hard length brushing on your ass. His tail swished around before curling around your leg. Your hands keeping you upright were trembling as the onslaught of bliss was increasing, gaze glossy.

“Fuck, this pussy is so tight… Are you going to let me fuck you, angel? Huh? Does my pet deserve this dick?” he questioned with mirth in his tone. Another finger was added, widening your hole. You couldn’t help the whine leaving your lips, eyes shut as you fought back more from coming out. Rindou held you by the waist when your legs gave out, cooing into your ear. The hybrid brought up his hand coated with your juices, inhaling it then tasted your slick. “It’s that good? I’ve waited so long. Held back and let you have your way. You’ll let me have you, mhm? Been good, angel. The least you can do is return the favor…” A silent gasp was what Rindou earned when he tapped the head of his cock against your pussy folds, rubbing his length on the damp flesh. Slowly, he entered you.

“A-are you gonna—ah!” You were sure he was going to tear you apart. It stung as the girth of his cock stroked your tight muscles, molding its shape there. Rindou took a few seconds to get accustomed to the way your pussy enveloped his dick, hissing under his breath at how heavenly you felt. And now that he has finally held you, Haitani Rindou was damn sure he has found his mate. Now, he will make sure to keep you by his side whether you want to or now. He’ll just have to give you something that will make you reluctant to leave… Or fuck you so hard you wouldn’t be able to walk out of this place without him. Maybe getting you pregnant will be the solution to this problem. “Ah, fuck… S’ big. R-rindou!”

“Angel, wanna give you cubs. You’d want that, huh? You want to be mine?”

His thrusts were hard and rough, causing you to moan and squirm. Lust rendered you blind as you took and took what Rindou gave. Time was no longer relevant at this point. All you could remember as he continued to fuck you like a savage beast during the mating season was the way his claws dug into your skin, marking you as his. The place’s layout slowly etched itself into your mind as he made it his mission to fuck you in every area with the endeavor of filling up your womb until all you could feel was his cum running down your thighs. Your breasts and nipples hurt after going through the abuse done by his mouth. Hickeys littered your torso and the skin of your neck. Clit and folds puffy, you couldn’t tell how many times you have squirted. Rindou always patted your head each time before tugging your nipples in a teasing way. The collar still wrapped around your neck jingled along with your breasts, soaked with your sweat and tears.

“R-Rindou! I-I can’t—”

“Yes, you can, angel. You can take more.”

He never gave you a break or a minute to rest and catch your breath. The moment he finished inside you, his balls emptied another load, replacing the cum he spurted into your cunt that dribbled out. Mind all in a mush, you sobbed at the overstimulation. Finally, the hybrid set you down on the couch, panting above you. A puddle of your essence and Rindou’s cum sat around your ass. The furniture wasn’t the only unfortunate victim of its owner’s quest to impregnate you and claim you. Mouth wide open, your eyes were fluttering shut due to exhaustion. Yet even as you stared at Rindou with those tired eyes, he held his cock glazed with both of your fluids right in front of your face in expectancy. The tip was red and super sensitive after hitting your cervix countless times while he fucked your brains out.

“Don’t tap out on me, angel,” he mumbled. Mustering up all your leftover strength, you sat up and licked on the reddish tip, earning a pleased groan. His hand reached forward to brush away the strands of hair from your face then carded his fingers through them. “Good girl. Always remember this, okay? Good kittens should clean up after playing. Good kittens shouldn’t make a mess.”

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ceruleanskies48 · 6 months ago

Text

Final Scene for BES: Healing & Family

In yesterday’s post, I wrote about what I think would be a satisfying ending for Mizu. For today’s post, rounding out the last day (Healing | Family) of @taimizuweek, I wanted to share my ideal final scene for the series.

Mizu and Taigen are living a happy peaceful life on their ranch together. Ringo (and Swordfather if he’s still alive) is visiting since Mizu recently had her first baby—a girl. The baby is around 4 months old, and Mizu looks down into her eyes and sees that they are still blue, meaning they will most likely stay that way. While part of her is scared for her daughter’s future, she is filled with an overwhelming feeling of love and hope for her. She will be surrounded by a loving family that adores her (and her eyes), and thanks to recent policy changes (driven through by Akemi with Mizu and Taigen’s help after taking down xenophobic Lady Itoh), their daughter should have a much easier time than Mizu did growing up.

There are a few reasons I love this possible ending. It bring Mizu’s arc full circle. Mizu's quest is not a typical revenge quest motivated by death (someone killing someone the protagonist loves) but rather by creation (the birth of the protagonist). Her life goal was to kill her father for giving her blue eyes, so passing that trait to a child of her own would show that she has learned to accept and even love that side of her. In addition, the better life that the child can look forward to would represent hope for societal progress. While in other stories, the idea of a badass independent woman settling down and becoming a mother might seem regressive, I think it’d actually be empowering for Mizu given this close connection between her struggles for self-acceptance and her feelings about parenthood. This would more profoundly illustrate her growth and healing than just killing her father (which the creators have teased is what Mizu wants but not what she needs for her arc).

Finally, it would be fun way to reference the origin story of BES. In every interview about the show, Amber Noizumi talks about how they first came up with idea for the show when she saw their baby daughter’s blue eyes. In that moment, she was thrilled that their baby had this “white” characteristic that is coveted in modern Western society as being beautiful, which led her to reflect upon her own internalized racism as a half-Japanese, half-white person. This inspired her and Michael to imagine a blue-eyed girl in the opposite context, where blue eyes made her reviled as sub-human and demonic.

Mizu learning to love her blue eyes and feeling positive about passing them onto her child would thus be a powerful way to wrap up her journey, showing that she has overcome her internalized racism and achieved self-love and happiness.

#12daysoftaimizu #bes #bes mizu #blue eye samurai #mizu #mizu bes #mizu blue eye samurai #mizu x taigen #taigen blue eye samurai #taigen x mizu #taigen bes #taigen #taimizu #taizu #ceruleanskies #meta analysis

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silviakundera · 5 months ago

Note

Oooh I like duke su from the show but the one from the novel sounds so much more interesting tbh I love a morally grey character with his own goals who doesn't give a f*ck what the lead is trying to do but has their own agenda and it's a much slower burn. Though with how Chinese dramas operate these days it's no wonder they made him like the FL and start helping her extremely early I don't think they know or even can with how netizens are write anything else.

Though I too love novel Su guogong, I think we're in a real quandary for the adaption.

The censors won't let him be characterized as black as the novel version AND be allowed to survive (see: Eternal Brotherhood where we can have a main character who is a dark schemer with blood on his hands that adores his wife -- only because he's doomed, doomed, doomed!) Boooooo!!! I do not agree that this softening was required for this work nor Story of Kunning Palace. Grr!!

But the change to make the FL and ML interact much more and work together in the 1st half, rather than him observing coldly and uncaring about her life or death -- imo that's a quandary about different mediums and how the audience reacts to them.

I wrote a lil meta post previously about the live action adaption of MDZS and why imo the production was forced to change the WWX and LWJ backstory. Once they decided on a linear storyline, imo the otp had to eventually be friends in his first life with a mutually acknowledged bond. The audience simply CANNOT be asked to wade through 20+ hours of episodes before LWJ as love interest isn't repeatedly rejecting the protagonist. 25 episodes and weeks in real-time of him being only cold & standoffish is too much for most viewers. When consuming the novel, the reader both won't have that stretched out real time delay until the couple are on the same page. And it won't take them 20 hours of reading to get there.

Things hit different for a crafted romance on page than performed live on screen for a 40-50 episode drama.

I can still see the adaption's struggle with this. Su suogong is truly a minor character in the novel and frankly not an active participant in most of the problem > scheme > resolution sub-arcs. He has this whole other full life of his own separate interests happening..... somewhere else. The novel mostly leaves his weekly activities as a black box, an obscured mystery. Drama boy is out there somewhere moving his chess pieces & murdering people for power but the reader often just sees glimpses of him ominously sipping his tea & ordering his minions around. In order raise him to a main, the drama is forced to make him involve himself in the play much earlier - to give him a reason to be on screen that is fully tied in with the main plot & its themes. He has to care about FL by the 9th hour in, and want to support her.... or give up ML status to Ye Shijie. 🤷

We can see the strain of this as 3 episodes may happen and all the screenwriter can do is have Su guogong show up for 5 minutes just to flirt a little and remind viewers he's alive 😂😂 but that's what you gotta do with 40 episodes tbh. I can't disgree that this is a more enjoyable viewing experience.

#the double #cdrama #cdrama meta #meta

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vamphorica · 7 days ago

Note

How would a female Mello, matt, and Near be?

absolutely wonderful question, anon, thank you so much. if you've been on my blog for any length of time, it is probably not surprising that i've given this a lot of thought and, putting aside my intricate transgender speculations for the time being, let's gender swap the wammy's creatures, and consider how that could impact their narratives within death note.

note: i will still be referring to all three using he/him pronouns, but this is not intended to be intentionally contrary. feel free to substitute whatever pronouns your heart desires throughout.

♀ mello -> mihaela may be a little bit obvious, haha, but if mihael is a croatian name that means 'who is like god', and we need to retain the letter 'm' for obvious reasons, i think it works well as a feminine alternative name. mello is relatively androgynous as an alias, if not slightly masculine, but i think it is fine given what i'm about to talk about.

mello's canonical gender expression is already nonconformative, so it is interesting to speculate what he would he look like if he were a girl. one of my absolute favourite genderbent depictions of mello is this piece by thekatzone because it still retains mello's visual ambiguity but in the opposite direction. i do think he would dress more masculine as a woman not only because his subversive appearance is a very significant aspect to his character, but also because of how it might relate to his position in the mafia.

mello spends a significant amount of time in the manga and anime in hypermasculine environments despite his presentation, and i think it is important to retain this idea even if he were to be genderbent. i do think mello would have had a much harder time, if it was at all possible, in attaining a leadership position within the mafia as a woman. the women who frequent the base are implied to be sex workers, and so i'm genuinely curious as to whether mello would have felt able to approach the organisation as a masculine presenting woman, or whether he'd seek out a different group. in which case, what would that group be? would he have been able to effectively carry out his insane plans in the same capacity?

i have very little doubt mello would still have been ambitious, but i actually don't think that he would have been able to pursue his goal to catch kira before near as he went about it in the series. certainly light would not have taken him seriously if the voice he heard down the phone was higher pitched, and that alone could have greatly impacted how sayu's kidnapping played out, as underestimating mello could have easily resulted in her death.

♀ matt -> apparently mail as a name means 'pleasant', and that is very funny to me. i quite like the name maille, which is irish, so fits nicely with a vague headcanon i haven't fully developed. i also learnt it is the name for a brand of mustard, and i think he would appreciate that. matt as a pseudonym might have to be changed to matilda, or martha.

while i am under no illusion that matt would be the kind of girl to give a shit about their appearance, i do think in another life, he would have made an excellent e-girl twitch streamer. i can imagine him wearing cat ear headphones and miniskirts, and referring to "chat" every five seconds. rest in peace, mail, you would have loved twitch subs.

regarding matt's gender identity in the canon series, i think that it worth considering how he might have responded differently to surveying others as a woman rather than as a man. i think matt's approach to watching others is very informed by his own personal biases, which I think are definitively masculine. The most clear example of this is how he describes misa as "an awfully cute japanese girl" which, while isn't necessarily the worst thing said about a woman in this godforsaken series, demonstrates that matt's perspective on women is superficial at best. this isn't helped either by the fact that he completely fucks up when guessing misa's age, even going so far as referring to her as a "child".

i think a female matt would probably feel the most overwhelmed of the three by societal expectations of women, and may even distance himself away from femininity. i'm not trying to suggest here that matt's comments imply he's misogynistic, but i actually think matt is the most masculine of the wammy's kids, which may be controversial, i don't know. i believe that he retains his masculine personality in this genderbent scenario.

♀ near -> i love the japanese pronunciation of near's name, nia, as a girl's name that he could use as an alias. natania has the same meaning as nate – 'gift of god' – which does not match his character at all, haha, but that is what i managed to come up with.

near is the easiest to consider gender swapping because to me, he's a girl anyway. you can point to his female voice actors in the anime, or his long hair in the 2020 manga one-shot, but he is also so clearly coded as a feminine character, a contrast from not only mello's aggressive impulsivity, but the masculine environment of law enforcement. with halle as a notable exception (who herself is very masculine, but another post, perhaps), near is markedly different from every other character in the series. some might say he resembles his predecessor, but i think they are very distinct from one another as characters.

my personal opinion relating to mello and near's gender identities (which you may disagree with) is that mello expresses his gender ambiguity externally whereas near does so internally. essentially, if we interpret them both as androgynous, mello's appearance is far more expressive of this, whereas near's behaviour is his more nonconformative trait. this can be a slightly tricky area to navigate as it's important not to dive headfirst into gender essentialism, but i think near's mannerisms can, and should, be explored here.

girl near would still be able to work as head of the spk, without the disadvantages girl mello would face to become head of the mafia. i really don't think there would be much in the way of significant plot deviance if near was female, other than maybe light freaking out over the fact he was caught by a woman, which would be very funny. in the one shot, near's internal androgyny has manifested itself as a more external expression, and i really like that decision.

to conclude, i do love the concept of the wammy's girls, and i think it invites some interesting discussions relating to how femininity is often dismissed in death note. there's a lot of creativity in genderbending characters. mello, matt and near each have complex and interesting traits that are very fun to explore when thinking about them from this perspective.

#sorry this took me so long to respond to #managed to write it out while getting tattooed so i think i deserve credit there at least #asks #mello #mihael keehl #matt #mail jeevas #near #nate river #wammy's house #death note #textpost #gender #analysis #perhaps?#headcanon

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heliza24 · 7 months ago

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In which I try to figure out Armand:

My brain has been ticking away thinking about Armand ever since episode 2.1. I have been fascinated and irritated by Armand in the off-season, so to speak, because I love Daniel and relate to him so much, and I know Armand is going to be very important to him. But we were given so little of Armand last season it has just felt impossible to get a grip on what his deal is. I am admittedly not a book reader, but I also feel like these feelings are still justified because the show version of Armand is so different than the book, in circumstance at least. So he’s the character I’m most interested in this season.

We still didn’t get a lot of him in ep 1, but I’ve been thinking about him and synthesizing some of the stuff that people have been saying about him in interviews, especially about his relationship to control. I’m specifically thinking about Hannah describing him as “Louis’s creature” and saying that he’ll do whatever Louis wants, and that this is part of their sexual dynamic as well. I think this makes sense with what we’ve seen in the trailers; it seems like Louis is the more sexually dominant one between them. So Armand is happy to be more of a sub in the bedroom and in their original flirtations. Maybe in their earlier dynamic as a couple too, we’ll have to see. Meanwhile, he’s in the background, arranging scenery, pulling strings, trying to do everything he can to hold onto Louis and keep him at least passingly happy. This, by the way, perfectly meshes with his role as director at the theatre. Never in the limelight, but always in control. (The stage management school of sexuality, if you will.). I think that emphasis on control probably becomes more pronounced as the years go on, and Louis is sitting in his grief for Claudia and more of their initial spark dies. But it also perfectly explains the Rashid act. Armand is comfortable playing a servant role. He’s comfortable observing from just off stage. He’s comfortable doing those things if it means ultimately having a better grasp on the way the scene unfolds.

For his part I think Louis is probably drawn to the way Armand seamlessly irons out the bumps in his life. The penthouse is a cage, but Louis is his own jailer; Armand isn’t the one keeping him there. There’s probably an interesting comparison to be made against Lestat here. Lestat revels in melodrama and high emotions, while Armand is intent on maintaining a facade of calm stability. It makes sense to me that Louis would have leaned into this facade, even if he knew it was partially a falsehood, after losing Claudia. I think this is true even around Claudia’s death. It was easier for Louis to forget and forgive whatever part Armand played in it, and allow Real Rashid to hide those diary pages away, than to really reckon with Claudia’s death.

I think Louis requested the interview as part of his general goal to narrativize and soften his own memories and grief, and Armand acquiesced in order to keep Louis. The original goal of the interview was for Louis to convince himself he really had killed Lestat, literally and maybe emotionally too. I think it’s possible that Lestat is back in the picture somehow and the interview is Louis’s last ditch effort to convince himself not to return to his maker. But then of course the whole thing goes off the rails and Louis ends up facing down his true memories for the first time in years. It makes sense that when put in an uncomfortable situation- watching Louis talk about Lestat- Armand would default to his old role of manipulating things from the wings of the metaphorical penthouse stage. Him stepping into the interview is a big departure from that, and shows how effectively Daniel has rattled him.

So how this plays against Daniel is interesting. Armand is putting on a big show about how he and Louis were able to manipulate Daniel in San Francisco. But I wonder how true that ever really was. I imagine even in San Francisco, Daniel represented a completely opposite dynamic to Armand’s relationship with Louis, which would have hooked Armand’s attention. If Louis appeared in control on the surface, but relied on Armand’s ability to arrange the periphery of his life, Daniel would have appeared to be easily (and perhaps happily) dominated, but resistant to Armand’s larger attempts to control his life. Obviously I don’t know exactly how they’ll play out a 1970s devil’s minion scenario. But I imagine that Daniel’s addiction, and Armand’s misguided attempts to protect him from it, will play a role in whatever kind of break up and memory erasure ensues. Whether it was the addiction or his personality or something else, there was some element of Daniel that was too wild for Armand to tame. He threw him back into the pond, all memories of being snared on the fishing line erased. And it’s entirely possible that Armand feels this loss of control very deeply. As heartbreak and loss, but also as a scary moment when his grip on the love that he needs in his life faltered. It’s possible that the break up with Daniel made him even more determined to control outcomes with Louis. And it’s also possible that the pain that he felt when he originally lost Daniel is causing him to revise and edit his own memories of his relationship with Daniel. If Daniel broke Armand’s heart, it would be a lot easier to remember him as a silly boy Armand manipulated in tandem with Louis than someone Armand actually found fascinating. Admitting otherwise means admitting his own weakness. So memory becomes the monster, again, even if you are the one controlling the vampire amnesia.

For what it’s worth, I currently think that Louis doesn’t know about Armand’s past with Daniel. I don’t think Louis would be as vulnerable with Daniel if he knew. And that would point to Armand once again subtly manipulating and managing Louis, completely hiding his connection to this mortal from him.

Regardless, I don’t doubt that Daniel was less fearsome in San Francisco than he is now in Dubai. (The show’s insistence that an elderly disabled man is just as powerful in his own way as an immortal vampire is perfection, and it makes me want to kiss all the writers on the mouth). He’s even less controllable by Armand than he once was (if he ever was), and he’s intent on finding out Armand’s truth, and the truth of their connection. I was really struck by Assad saying in an interview that the thing that Armand wants most is acceptance. He craves love and acceptance, but is terrified to show his real self and be vulnerable. Thats why he’s continuing to play stage manager to Louis’s love. But Daniel is coming for his true self in Dubai whether Armand wants it or not. And I imagine that is both extremely confronting but also ultimately attractive to Armand.

I deeply hope we get to see Daniel crack Armand’s sense of control. I hope we get to see Armand being vulnerable to Daniel and Daniel being receptive to that. I also hope we get to see Daniel facing down Armand as the source of his trauma (because being stalked, bitten, and then having your memories forcibly repressed is trauma, even if Daniel was attracted to Armand through it). I hope we get to see the way that trauma and fear and desire and love intermingle. And I also hope that when Daniel breaks Armand’s sense of control and sees his true self, he still likes what he sees. Because I would like Armand to get that acceptance from someone, even when his worst tendencies are laid bare.

(Oh, and while I’m making predictions- I’m not worried about 70s Devils Minion not happening, or them interacting in the 70s but it not turning into some form of romance. There is simply no better way to add stakes to the Dubai iterations of the characters than to give them this hidden history, and Rolin has talked extensively about needing to bring Daniel into the story in a personal way and crank up the conflict happening in Dubai. The penthouse is no longer just a framing device, but a site of active conflict and growth, and the only way you do that is exploring past and future DM dynamics. In ep 1 it’s still mainly acting as a frame, but I’m really excited to see its importance grow over the season).

Armand is such an intriguing mystery, but if I’m right about some of this stuff I actually relate quite strongly to him too. (I am reminded of a Brennan Lee Mulligan quote, where he describes characters you love/play as being garages attached to your actual personality of a house, and sometimes some piece of writing or improv shoots a sniper rifle perfectly through the garage door into the house and hits you in the heart)

@bluedalahorse warned me that this is how you really get stuck on a ship, when you see pieces of yourself in both characters, and I do fear that she is right.

So we’re really in it now, is what I’m saying. Send me your Armand thoughts, I want all of them. I will be counting down the days until episode 5 and obsessing until it airs. I’ll check back in on this meta later, I guess, to see how correct or incorrect I was.

#interview with the vampire #iwtv #my meta #devils minion #armand #armandaniel #daniel molloy

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evilbihan · 4 months ago

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As someone who values philosophy and underlying themes of art, I find the duality of fire and ice interesting when applied to characters.

For instance fire is seen as a warm and protective element, but few care to look beyond the warm glow to see the hunger and cruelty of fire. I think this can apply well to characters who wield fire. They can be warm and kind on the surface, but underneath is rage and passion. This can definitely be seen in Kuai Liang. Everyone is drawn to the fire, but doesn't see the burning rage.

Naturally ice is very much the opposite of all this. Ice is frightening and cold. It looks like it doesn't care about anything beyond its cold judgment. Yet people who have almost died of the cold say it lulled them to sleep. It's the only element to take you sweetly in a way. Ice underneath has a deep beauty and kindness in it. With Bi-Han we see him as icy and snappish (heh cold snap), but we also see that his whole motivation is for his clan. Yet the writers don't let us see the kinder side that comes from that dedication and love. It's annoying how they have kept him so flat when ice is such a deep and philosophical thing. (I'm sure my bias is also showing I love ice and winter.)

This is so true and I couldn't have worded it any better myself! Fire is destructive. Fire provides warmth, but no one ever speaks of what it takes in return. Fire is selfish. It consumes. Get too close and it will burn you. Fire knows no mercy. All those things are, in one way or another, also applicable to Kuai Liang. His intention to protect the realm may seem noble, but his vengeful nature is destructive to both himself and those around him. Kuai Liang is selfish and merciless in his pursuit of vengeance.

Ice is indeed in many ways the kinder element. Don't we apply ice to burns and bruises for it to numb our pain? Is it not the ice that selflessly melts and waters the ground we live off? The cold only becomes a threat to those who venture into it too deep. As you already correctly said, Bi-Han cares about his clan and means to protect it. He is only a threat to those who interfere with that goal. His desire to give the Lin Kuei a better future is no less noble than Kuai Liang's, but few can recognize this because ice can seem unfriendly and terrifying, yet the cold shows mercy. And what is Bi-Han if not merciful?

Sub-Zero: Surrender and Shao will show mercy. Mileena: If you believe that, you're a fool.

Sub-Zero: Walk away while you can. Raiden: I'll never give up, never surrender.

Sub-Zero: We have no cause for dispute. Kitana: You aided Shao's attempt to steal the throne!

Some fail to see the beauty and kindness of ice the same way they fail to see the cruelty of fire.

Now, for your final point, I'm afraid I must disagree.

Yet the writers don't let us see the kinder side that comes from that dedication and love.

You are partially right with that statement, but I do think we get to see glimpses of Bi-Han's kindness, such as the examples I provided above (you can find more in this post as well as this one), people just tend to intentionally ignore them for some reason. Bi-Han asks both his brothers if they're unharmed, he expresses regret over Sindel's death, he seems reluctant to fight Kitana... Personally, I think he is a far more complex character than people give him credit for. Could the writing have been better? Absolutely. Is it the writers' fault that Bi-Han is misunderstood? Not entirely. I would mostly blame that on the fandom's media illiteracy.

(As a side note: Ironically, my favorite season is summer and I can handle heat better than I can handle the cold and yet the ice/winter themed character ended up being my favorite.)

#bi han #bi-han #mk sub zero #bi han sub zero #mk bi han #kuai liang #kuai liang scorpion #mk scorpion #mk1 #mortal kombat 1 #mk1 2023

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skipper1331 · 1 year ago

Text

World Cup Loss // Mary Fowler

a/n: based off this request.

"Baby, look what your mom just sent me!" you shouted as you made your way over to Mary who was sitting on the couch with her laptop on her lap. "Show me" your body flopped next to her as she closed her laptop.

It was a picure of the two of you after a u20s game. Mary had her arm around your torso while you talked to her dad. Your faces were still a little sweaty, a result from playing 90 minutes but nonetheless you looked beautiful. Mary had the biggest heart eyes as she looked at you, smiling widely.

Everyone around could see that Mary was so in love with you.

"Why didn‘t she sent me that picture?" the striker pouted.

"She loves me moreeee" you replied, cheeky. "She does" Mary agreed as she pulled your legs over her lap, her eyes like on the picture: heart eyes.

"Because you‘re one of a kind-"

Your bubble was broken when your phone rang, both of you looking at it. "Coach. What shall I do? Oh god. Mary, what shall I do?" You shoved your phone right in front of her face, waving nervously with it.

"Take it, love" her voice was calm - the complete opposite of you, you were panicking.

You accepted the call while you stood up, "Hello," internally hitting yourself at the weird greeting with your quevering voice.

The world stopped.

Your face went pale whilst you could just listen to Tony Gustavsson.

"Thank you… yes… have nice day!" were your last and only words before you hung up, your phone slipping out of your hand.

"My love? Are you alright? What happened?"

Mary turned you around so she could look at you - herself standing. "I did it," you whispered in disbelief, "I really did it. I‘m in the squad."

"Baby! That‘s amazing! I‘m so proud of you" she hugged you in a death grip, spinning you around. Utterly in shock, you couldn‘t even hug her back.

Not even two seconds later after she‘d put you down her phone started ringing.

'Tony Gustavsson'

"My phone! Argh! What shall I say?" Now, she was the one panicking - you calm. "Take it" you repeated her words, your hand finding hers.

Mary was shaking slightly yet smiling, nodding along. "Thank you! Bye!"

"We‘re going to the World Cup, baby!" squealing, she picked you, your legs wrapping around her waist as you held her face. "I‘m so so proud of you," each word said between kisses.

"We‘ve been dreaming about this since we‘re little. Baby, we‘re going to a World Cup!"

Her lips found yours, kissing them passionately. All you could think about was Mary, the way her lips felt on your own. The slow movements of her tongue made you go crazy, desiring more. Pulling away, your lover attached her lips to your neck, sucking on a certain spot where she knew it made you weak. "Mary" you whimpered, breathlessly, your hips grinding against her while her hands rested on your bum.

"I love you, i love you so much"

Australia vs Ireland

Starting XI, Mary and you made it. You were in the lineup. Nervous wouldn‘t even describe what you felt when you entered the changing room. You were jittery and excited, you couldn't sit still for a minute, not even when Mary braided your hair like she always did.

The feeling to walk on the pitch, a complete nation behind you who supported you was absolutely amazing. It was just wow.

When Steph slotted that penalty, the whole stadium went crazy as well you did. You jumped screaming on your teammates, overcome with joy.

The first goal of many, hopefully.

The next game was against Nigeria, Mary was on the bench while you were in the starting lineup. It was a rough game, you couldn’t do more than assist Emily to make it 1-0 yet shortly after, the draw was made.

It was 1-1 at half time - nobody was happy. At the 60th minute, you got subbed off, not happy with your performance. You took a seat next to Mary who was watching you closely. She wanted to tell you that she was proud of you but she didn‘t, she remained silent. She knew the signs. She knew when the right moment was to say something to you or when it was better to be quiet. In that moment, it was better to be quiet, to just be there.

5 minutes after your substitution, Nigeria went in the lead with 2-1. To be honest, you didn‘t know how to feel. This was the group stage everything was possible. And it was dangerous. You hoped that your team would make it 2-2 but then Oshoala made it 3 to 1. Your teammates looked exhausted but still determined. They had hope - you had hope.

In the 90+10th minute Alanna made the score line 3-2 but it wasn‘t enough. Australia had lost by one goal.

You laid in Marys arms, searching for comfort. Why didn't you play better? "I can hear your thoughts," the striker whispered, your legs tangled together as she played with your hair, "You need to believe, my love. I‘ll promise you we‘ll make it past the group stage"

And you did.

Canada vs Australia, you had to win. Everyone was confident. Australia could do it. The fighting spirit of each individual player was there, the communication and tactics worked and the 1-0 came by. Hayley Raso scoring a banger. The stands erupted in cheers and 20 minutes later, the one and only Hayley Raso scored again.

2-0

If you thought the stadium was loud before, hell no, now, every fan was screaming at the top of their lungs.

Despite the fact that the score was 2-0 at half-time, Canada shouldn't be underestimated. Canada had world class players like Sinclair, Fleming, Leon and many more. The whole squad was full of top players. But Australia played at its best. As the 58th minute came, it was the time to shine for your girlfriend, this time for real. Her goal counted. You were the first to jump on her as your teammates followed. "THAT‘S MY GIRL!" you yelled, not only you and your teammates but the whole nation was proud. You wanted to kiss her - you didn‘t. This was a world cup match, not a place to kiss. Yet she would receive that well deserved kiss later.

Last but not least Steph made the score 4-0. You kind of felt sorry for Canada but this was a World Cup.

After the game you talked to some canadian players and comforted them. Yes, you were happy you won but seeing the others cry hurt a bit, you knew a lot of them.

At the end you swapped your shirt with Jessie Fleming as a reminder. You didn't mean to be mean in any way, it was common to swap shirts and the Canadian jerseys looked really nice, to be honest.

Behind closed doors you kissed Mary, you kissed her like the proud girlfriend you were. You kissed her the way she deserved to be kissed.

And she kissed you like you were the only one, she kissed you like she would lose you. You laid in bed, kissing and holding each other. You made it past the group stage. "You were right," you mumbled in her neck, half asleep, "We made it"

"I promised you, my girl. You know I never break my promises." She pressed a gentle kiss to your head before she fell in to a slumber, exhausted from the day.

Round of 16.

Some people thought that wasn‘t much but this wasn't true at all. It was already the first knock-out game in a world championship where nobody went down without a fight. Everyone tried to do their best as a team and individual. And for Australia's luck (and talent) it went 1-0, Caitlin Foord scoring and Hayley Raso making it 2-0. The team was overcome with joy. They survived their first Knock-out match and were about to play in a quarterfinal - against France. Tough call. France was a top team.

The game started with you on the bench and Mary in the starting XI, she looked so good.

The perfect chance came in the 40th minute for Australia. The french goalkeeper besides the goal, Mary shooting. Out of nowhere came de Almeida who managed to prevent the goal. Your heart stood still for a moment as well of your teammates on the bench, basically everyones heart stopped beating for a moment in the stadium. Everyone thought the ball was going in for sure but it didn‘t. Mary was angry and disappointed yet it wasn't a reason to give up, you had to admit de Almeida did a really great job defending the goal.

0-0 at half time.

0-0 at the 90th minute.

Extra time.

You were subbed on but couldn't help to make the lead. It was going in to penalties. Australia was nervous but determined.

France started but missed.

Foord 1-0

Diani 1-1

Catley 1-1

Renard 1-2

Kerr 2-2

Le Sommer 2-3

Fowler 3-3

At this point you were a nervous wreck, holding on to your teammates, praying that you would win.

Périsset 3-3

Macca on fire!

Arnold 3-3

Geyoro 3-4

Gorry 4-4

Karchaoui 4-5

Yallop 5-5

Lakrar 5-6

Carpenter 6-6

Dali 6-6

Macca saving not once but twice.

Hunt 6-6

Gosh, your heart couldn‘t take it anymore.

Bècho 6-6

Steph and Sam both looked at you. You had to take that penalty. You've never been a fan of penalties, you've either shot over the goal or hit the post and now you should take the winning penalty. They were crazy. Your face should have told them that you didn't want to, that you couldn't but you had no other choice. You had to do it. Slowly, you walked to the penalty area, many cameras were pointed at you, the whole world could see how nervous you were. However, once you had put the ball on the spot, your whole face changed. Your face was stone cold, no sign of nervousness.

Mary was sweating, hoping, wishing. You had to do this. For your own sake and Australias.

You took three steps back, one to the side.

The world stopped, Durand dived right and your shot went left. You scored!

Y/L/N 7-6

Australia made it. They‘re in the semi-final. Your whole team jumped on you, shouted roars of passion, feeling energetic.

In the locker room, Macca and you in the middle of the circle as everyone sang and danced around you. They celebrated you. Mary watched you closely, she felt so much joy - seeing you, winning, about to play in a semi-final. As you stretched out your hand for Mary to join you she instead pulled you close, kissing you in the middle of the changing room. Your friends wolf-whistled while your cheeks turned red.

"I love you"

You had lost against England.

Toone scored first, wasn‘t great but Australia still had a chance then in the 63rd minute Sam equalized.

71st minute, Hemp 1-2

86th minute, Russo 1-3

It hurt, tears streamed down your face as you pulled your shirt over your head, sitting defeated on the grass. You wanted to hide from the world, you gave everything and it wasn't enough. You didn‘t know what to do. You wanted to be at Marys side but couldn‘t move. "I‘m sorry," Alex Greenwood whispered as she had her hand on you neck, squatted down. She was like a mentor to you, a big sister, one of the first people who made Machester feel like home, "I‘m proud of you" she gave your forehead a kiss before she left you alone. Esme, Chloe and Lauren giving you a hug which you appreciated. You left as soon as you could, you didn‘t listened what Gustavsson said, you couldn‘t. It fell to death ears. You wanted to go home.

Mary felt devastated, heart broken.

That night, you laid in each others arms, holding on to one another as if the other would disappear. There was so much to say but neither of you could. Silent tears were rolling down your faces, fingertips wiping them away, softly.

For hours you laid in silence, seeking comfort in the touch of your lover. "I don‘t know what to say," Mary whispered, her hands holding your waist in manner of comfort, "i have so much to say but i don‘t have the words…"

"I know.."

"It- it just hurts, so much. I couldn’t do anything to help the team. And- and looking at you hurts because you- you look so sad while you probably feel the same. I don‘t know."

Your thumb caressed her cheek as a single tear rolled out of her eye. "I‘m so proud of you, Mary. It's not optimal how it went, for sure but other nations didn't even make it that far. At the end of the day, we can be proud of ourselves even if it hurts," you whispered, "We can win 3rd place"

You didn‘t. Australia had lost 2-0 against Sweden. It stung.

This time, Mary was by your side. She didn‘t want to be anywhere else. She hugged you as if her life depened on it, crying in your neck. You wanted to whisper sweet nothings in her ear like you always did when she cried but you couldn‘t. You grieved as well. Seeing Sweden get their medals hurt, seeing all those happy faces while you felt pain yet Sweden deserved it, they played fantastic, no matter if some fouls happened. As you watched their ceremony the complete Australia team sat on the ground, looking exhausted and broken. Mary had her arm around you, needing to feel your touch to somehow ease her pain, as your head rested on her shoulder. Comforting one another.

"love?" you asked. She squeezed your hip to let you know she was listening. "Do I think I can ask Rolfö for her shirt?"

Fridolina Rolfö was one of your favorite players, she was just wow, you liked the way she played and her unique talent. Though you didn‘t know If it was the right time to ask her yet you didn‘t know when or If you would ever play against her again.

Chuckling at your admiration torwards the blonde, your lover pulled you close, "Go for it, baby." You looked at her, a smile covering your face.

"Do you think she‘ll give it to me?"

"You have to find out"

Your teammates swarmed out to talk to a few of the swedish players (Steph talked to Stina, Sam with Magda,…).

Yes, you lost an important game but that didn't mean you don't show respect or sportsmanship to your friends.

Nervously, you made your way to Rolfö, "Hi?" your voice was shaking. "Hey!" the tall blonde greeted you, smiling fondly at you, "Umm do- do you wanna swap shirts? With me?" Awkward! Mary watched you, laughing to herself at your nervous state. She could imagine what you just said. "Sure! I‘d love to" Rolfö replied, already taking off her shirt. You turned around, respecting her privacy - there was none in the stadium but still, you respected her and Mary. You took off your jersey as well, handing it to her as you swapped. "Th-thank you" gosh, you were an awkward mess. To be fair, who wouldn‘t?? She pulled you in a hug, thanking you for your shirt and the game before you walked to your girlfriend who grinned. "Fridolina Rolfö just hugged me" you said, not believing what happened.

Back at the hotel, the team ate together before everyone went to their rooms. Your pain wasn‘t away and maybe it would never go away but you would come back stronger, the whole team would.

You were already laying in bed as Mary joined you, her head rested on your chest as her hand laid on your stomach, tracing patterns. "I love you" she whispered, feeling the urge to tell you. Her mind was back at the match, what she could‘ve done better. "Look at me" her eyes found yours, they looked so sad "I‘m disappointed, too. We wanted more and we could‘nt achieve it. It‘ll hurt for a while but we changed this sport forever. Look at us, look at Australia, look at all the little girls, we can be proud"

"When did you become so wise?"

"it’s always been in my nature" giggling, she started tickling you. Hovering above you, she stared at you with so much love, the same way as on the picture her mom sent you which was also her wallpaper, by the way, the same way like all those years ago: with heart eyes.

The out-come of the World Cup wasn‘t the result you wanted but at the end of the day you could be proud of yourselves.

The Matildas would come back stronger.

—————————

#mary fowler #mary fowler x reader #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso #matildas #wwc23 #australia women #man city women #auswnt #auswnt x reader

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