#their arms sort of form a heart ♥

[daguerreotyping]

Carte de visite of two handsome bearded gentlemen embracing, Montreal, Canada, c. 1860s

[okwonyo]

THE LOOK OF LOVE, 或 𓈒𓈒 the moment they knew.

𝒾 ⠀⦂ ⠀ 엔하이픈 ୨୧ f ╱ r! 1OOO fluff angst if you squint established relationship ── kissing skinship crying not proofread ⠀ ｡｡ ⠀ ( 𝑜𝑜𝑒𝑢𝑣𝑟𝑒𝑠 )

지아 ⠀⦂ ⠀i hope this will make you all feel loved and appreciated ! ^^

rblgs♥︎fdbcks & C𝑙𝑖CK

HEESEUNG

it would hit him without any sort of warning, right there in the guts, with no aftercare. 

would have taken you to a dinner during a rather cool summer night. the restaurant would be delicious, the conversations would be enthusiastic and smooth, you would hold onto his arm as you would  both walk side to side.

the breeze would make you end up on a beach. 

the visual of the waves coming back to their original form, the beautiful sight of the sun going back to sleep, the birds flying above your head would be nothing compared to you.

and lister, he is just a man. a weak, simple, rational man who wouldn’t be able to contain his heart at the sight of his woman looking so beautiful. and it would be stupid, as if he was seeing you for the first time. 

it would be love, just simple, dizzying love. 

JAY

when the beginnings of sunlight would peek through the gaps in the blinds, casting thin golden ribbons over the bed to frame your form and his. when his eyes would flutter open and your warmth welcoming him would be the first thing he feels.

when, despite being tired, the thought of getting up and cooking breakfast for the both of you alone would make his fatigue disappear. when his fingers would stroke a hair strand of your sleepyself behind your ear.

when he would smile to himself the entire time he cooks, just because: wow, he woke up next to you! isn’t that enough?

especially when you would hug him from behind as a greeting and rest your cheek on his back. would say it, immediately, raw and sincere, with his lips against your forehead. 

JAKE

you would laugh at one of his very stupid jokes once and he would fall in love with you immediately.

he would feel the literal sensation of falling and falling and falling without any chance of landing.

your laugh would ring like a dulcet lullaby, the electricity that would run through his whole body when you hit his shoulder and tell him to ‘please, shut up’ would be the object of all his dreams.

it would be like his heart would start to get tighter and tiger, a knot would form in his throat with all the words he would wish to say.

would grip onto his shirt, the side where his most important organ is. the blood would rush to it so quickly. ‘i love you, i love you, i love you’ it would scream.

SUNGHOON

the only thing that could ever bring him to his knees, would be you. and everything that comes from you as well.

so, yes, when he would come back home to a thin, invisible, melancholic hue in the air of the shared home you both made for each other and tears escaping from your eyes, he would crumble.

 as hard as he can, would try to make them stop. by cupping your face and wiping them off your face sweetly, by asking you what is wrong with tears starting to form in his eyes, by holding your hands tightly. 

would not even have time to feel the realization or hear the words he just spoke. with his knees on the floor as he brings your knuckles to his forehead, “i love you,” he would croak, “please don’t cry,”

and it would make you cry even more. 

SUNOO

there would be a fondness in his eyes whenever he sees or, even just, thinks about you that would be far too obvious to ever deny.

it would always be obvious, to everyone around the two of you— except to the two of you— that there was always love. no matter how young your relationship was, it was always there.

maybe the realization should come at a more significant and amazing moment. like your first date or the time you watched the fireworks together. but it would be significant, to him, and it is all that matters. 

“sunoo,” you would tease, dragging the sound of the double letters at the end of his name. you would bring your hands around your mouth so the sound would be louder, “wah~ you are so pretty, so cute,”

the attempt of making him flustered while he films himself would succeed. and when he would rewatch the video a while after, the moment where he would tell himself ‘she is lucky i am in love with her’ would be obvious.

(as much as the ‘wait, what?’)

JUNWGON

“are you still mad?” he would ask in a soft whisper after you pushed his hand away and took his tie into your own hands. his fingertips would softly touch your upper arms.

you would not even look up at him when responding, “i am not mad,” and he would get a bit sad, as he should. you would look at him with a look in your eyes and smile he would want to kiss away, “you are just very annoying.”

he would hum, watching your fingers work on the tissue around his neck. your gaze would focus on it fully and he would start to feel a bit neglected, craving for your eyes on him again. his, however, would fall on your lips. 

he would slowly lean in. a smirk would draw on his face when you tilt your chin up. your lips would brush and then you would tighten the tie around his neck, making him almost choke.

you would give him a grin after patting his chest. his head would fall back when you leave the room and he would bite his lower lip, “god, i love her so much,”

RIKI

would only realize saying it and hearing you saying it back. a little bit silly, right?

it is just that, loving you would come to him as naturally as breathing. 

from the very first time he met you, love would already be in his stomach. it would already be growing roots of roses, stems would wrap around his beating heart and they would only wait to finally bloom. 

the roses would bloom on a quiet night. a sleepover where you would both sit on the enormous sofa and he would still manage to find a way to corner you between armchairs and his body. 

he would be playing with your fingers, having you trapped in his arms, “i love you,” he would breathe out. 

you would look at him with a smile before saying, “i love you too.”

ㅤㅤ𓈒ㅤㅤ𓈒 taglist open.

[bunnyreaper]

𝖈𝖔𝖑𝖑𝖆𝖗𝖘 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖈𝖆𝖌𝖊𝖘 𝔞 𝔰𝔬𝔞𝔭 𝔪𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔞𝔳𝔦𝔰𝔥 𝔵 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔯 𝔰𝔢𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝖕𝖙 3 — 𝖕𝖙 2 𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊 wc - 7.2k warnings - 18+/nsfw, dom sub dynamic, hints of petplay, mild public play notes - part 3 kind of ran away from me, if you can't tell from the word count!! i had a lot of fun with this one, so i hope you enjoy! also on ao3! ♥

Life was teaching you early on in this budding relationship that life without Johnny drags. 

The first day or two he was gone wasn't so bad. Before he'd even left the country, he'd sent you an incredibly drool-worthy photo of him in his fatigues. You've spent more time looking at it over the past week or so than you probably should've—fixated on the size of his arms, the confident pose, and the mic set around his neck. 

The sight of that alone sent your thoughts reeling—and was the part you'd zoomed into on the most, beside Johnny's handsome face. 

Then came the voice note, the one you've been listening to on repeat—addicted to Johnny's words and voice. Finally, you have it captured to listen back to on demand. He'd sent you other voice notes since, shorter ones with "I'm thinking about you." or "Just met a street cat, his collar said his name is Halim!" with a photo accompanying it. 

Those made your heart sing, and your smile wide, but the last one he sent was him explaining he'd be going dark, and he'd message again whenever he could. 

That had been over a week ago now, and the radio silence left your nerves on edge, frayed and tested as you waited for any sign.

Some sense of salvation had come in the form of an after-work drinking session that turned into a full-blown night out—it was a welcome distraction and an oasis of general socialisation after your desert of solitude.

You were dressed up nice, getting a little tipsy and dancing the night away—only checking your phone as you pulled it out to pay for a drink. 

The missed call notification has you rushing to down the drink, so you can head out the back of the club. As soon as the pounding music fades away, you're pressing the phone to your ear and listening to the dial—it feeling tortuously slow as you wait for Johnny to pick up with every ring. Just before it goes to voicemail, his voice is blessing your ears once more. 

"Hey, pretty girl." He greets, his voice seemingly as bright as always. 

"Johnny!" You all but squeal in excitement, a heady combination of missing him and the effects of the alcohol making your enthusiasm bubble over.

He laughs, slow and sweet, as warmth spreads through your chest. "Missed me that much, aye?" 

You missed him far too much considering the current state of your relationship, but even in your intoxicated state, you know to keep that mostly to yourself. "Missed you so much!" You giggle, moving further away from the door as a group of people join you out back—cigarettes hanging from their fingers.

"Missed you too. Where are yer?" Johnny asks, clearly hearing the commotion in the background. 

"I'm out with some people from work, but I'll go home right now, I swear—" 

Johnny cuts you off before you can even finish your offer. "Don't you dare, lass, enjoy your night. I just wanted to let you know I'm back, tha's all."

Hearing from him was such a relief, and you are so glad he called—though now you don't want to stop talking again. "Does that mean we can meet soon?" You ask—voice light, flirtatious, and most importantly hopeful.

"I was thinking Sunday if that works for yer?" 

"Making me wait again, Sergeant?" You practically twirl your hair around your finger as you tease him, smiling unreservedly as you hold the phone to your ear. 

"Keep talking like tha' and I'll come down there right now." His growl is playful, but you can tell using his rank has some sort of effect on him. 

You pull your lip between your teeth, giggling once more and flushing with need. "Do it, I dare you." You taunt.

Johnny's sigh is a little defeated, his tone a little tired and flat compared to usual."I cannae, still got things to wrap up. Tha's why I said Sunday and not tomorrow, sweet thing." 

You relent with your joking, not wanting to keep up with teasing when Johnny seems a little... low. "You're worth the wait." You whisper into the phone, soft and sincere—you hope that makes him smile at least. 

"We'll sort out the details tomorrow, yeah?" 

You nod, even though he can't see it. "Sounds good." 

He perks up a little bit, even if it sounds somewhat forced. "Feel like doing me a favour before you get back to yer friends?"

"Anything." Your answer is instant, especially if it would cheer him up right now. Coming back from the things he must see has to be hard, and you can't blame him for continuing to be affected by it. Is that why he needed an extra day? To decompress and adjust back to being Johnny instead of a sergeant in the army? 

"Send me a picture of your outfit." The sentence lands somewhere between a question and a command—though you had every intention of complying anyway. 

"Yes sir." You answer instinctually, not putting too much thought into it until you hear Johnny's growl in response. The kind of growl that ignites something deep within you every time you hear it. 

His voice is low, rumbling down the phone with a hint of playful warning. "Bonnie..." 

"Sorry." You laugh lightly, before turning more sincere. "I'm glad you're safe, Johnny."

The line is silent for a moment, just long enough for you to worry you've said the wrong thing, but as always, Johnny washes away your doubt.  "I'm glad you waited for me." 

"Of course." A shiver passes over you, the night air making you want to retreat back inside. You wrap an arm around yourself as you brace yourself from the cold. "Talk tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow, for definite. Have a nice night, angel." His wish is sincere, the softness in his voice something you'll replay over and over again. 

"Night, Johnny." 

You wait for him to end the call before you rush back into the club, beelining straight for the bathroom to snap a picture just for Johnny. The dress isn't your usual clubbing outfit, having come straight from work, but you look cute, and you feel confident as you send the picture straight to Johnny.

The next day drags even more than the last few have, especially with the mild hangover thundering your skull. Every part of the day is just about going through the motions, getting through it, so you're one minute closer to seeing Johnny. Every moment is a little dull, until you find yourself waiting for him at the exit of the train station.

The excitement and the nerves wage war inside you—with each passing second, you're getting closer and closer to being swept up in Johnny's arms, to hopefully feeling like you're finally home. But with each second, you're inching closer to vulnerability, to risk, to the possibility that somehow he might decide after today that he never wants to see you again. 

Maybe he'll look at you and realise he doesn't quite like your body, or the way your mouth moves when you talk. Maybe he'll hate your mannerisms, or find that in person you're actually really boring to talk to. Perhaps he'll just know within moments of meeting you that you'll never be his home, never be his.

The thought is terrifying, crawling around the back of your mind as you scan every passing face in the hopes of seeing the silly little mohawk you long to run your fingers through. 

And when you do, the world stills.

You spot him before he spots you, and you get a moment to appreciate his searching gaze, his quietly confident swagger, the way his denim jacket stretches over his shoulders, and his shirt clings to his stomach. 

In short, he's a vision. All man—big and strong and beautiful. It takes everything within you to not launch yourself into his arms as soon as he gets close. 

He continues to look around as he makes his way through the ticket barriers, glancing between the crowds and his phone as he makes his way closer and closer. You emerge from your hidden spot, your legs carrying you without hesitation over to him—and when your eyes meet, you both stop completely still for just a moment. Nothing but wide smiles on your faces and a magnetic pull that draws you together. 

The bodies in between you are a hindrance, a barrier you both need to be gone as you weave through them before finally standing before each other—and at that moment everything feels right. 

"Wow." Johnny says as he looks you up and down and drinks all of you in.

"Wow yourself." You giggle, checking him out just the same and adjusting to just how much more handsome he is in person—as if such a thing were possible. "Hi Johnny." Even you are surprised by how breathless you sound, but it makes perfect sense when you consider how fast your heart is beating, how your hands are starting to shake. 

"Think I must be dreamin'" He blinks in disbelief, unable to keep the radiant, infectious smile off of his face. 

You blush deeply, and find you can no longer meet the intensity of his eyes. "Flatterer." Your word is a whisper as you push yourself to your tip toes and wrap your arms around Johnny's neck, pulling him in for a hug.

His strong arms wrap around your waist, holding you close, tightly enveloping you in a serene feeling of safety, as well as his fresh, masculine scent. 

Home. You think it's the closest you ever felt to it, bundled up in his arms as he cradles you like you're the most precious thing on earth to him. 

His hands roam over your back, caressing you so delicately and savouring every bit of you, as your own hands thread around the back of his neck, and you sink your fingers in, grasping him to ground yourself in the moment. It's real, he's real, and being in his arms feels so right it almost hurts. 

"You're even more gorgeous in person, bonnie." He whispers in your ear, breath hot and sending shivers all over your body. Thank god he's holding you upright, as your entire being is so vulnerable right now to every sensation. 

He pulls away slightly, but keeps you close, his eyes returning to yours once more, looking at you like you're everything. 

"I could say the same about you." You giggle, feeling self-conscious beyond belief. "Your eyes..." They're so blue, two oceanic pools of deep emotion, pulling you under the longer you stare. 

Everything you feel is reflected in his eyes—hope, bliss, excitement. 

"Grew them maself." He laughs, his nose wrinkling as he laughs at his own silly joke. 

He has you captivated entirely, as you drink in every single feature on his face—the strong brows, the scar on his lips, the dimples hidden behind his stubble. Every detail makes your heart thump against your rib cage, makes you want to reach out and trace your fingers over every little thing you discover. 

You're snapped out of your reverie when someone's bag brushes past you, and you remember you're in the middle of a train station, blocking people's way. 

"We should move out of the way." 

"Aye." He nods, slipping an arm around you so as to not lose contact as the two of you shuffle out of the path of the commuters. "Fuck. Am not letting you go now." 

His grip tightens around you as he pulls you in once more, hands settling on your waist as he stares down in adoration.

"Good." You can't help the smile on your face, so big and bright your cheeks hurt from how unwavering it is—that's just the feeling Johnny inspires. 

This time, it's him who seems affected by your gaze, as he averts his eyes from yours. "'s a bit weird, though." He admits, a strange shyness to his tone. 

Nothing about Johnny right now would suggest he's anything even close to nervous or uncomfortable, but you figure a man like him is very good at masking how he really feels. Your hands slip to his chest, your thumbs rubbing soothingly back and forth as you try to project a sense of calm to soothe you both. 

"Have you never done this before?" You ask, curiosity brimming but with no underlying judgement.

"No." His cheeks begin to redden as he glances at you briefly, a rare display of shyness from the seemingly endlessly confident man. "Don't laugh, it's ma first time." 

You continue your soothing gesture as you speak from the heart. 

"I wouldn't laugh! I have done this before, and I'm still so fucking nervous." Said nervousness escapes you in the form of a clipped laugh. "... If it wasn't obvious from the blushing and shaking." 

Johnny made you nervous, and yet peaceful all at the same time. His pull was irresistible, concrete, even if you stumbled to him on shaky legs. You knew what he might be feeling right now, if his heart was anything like yours. 

"Oh, am sweatin' a tonne right now, if ya cannae tell." His laugh and smile are almost disgustingly sweet, along with his unbracing honesty. Johnny really is something else, you think. 

You step away from him, intertwining your fingers into his much larger hand, as you start to lead the way out of the train station. "Better get you out into the fresh air then." 

The two of you walk in comfortable silence across the short distance until you're hit with the sun's warmth and a blast of cooler air. You start walking into the city centre, aiming to wander around for a little to kill time.  

As you walk, Johnny's grip tightens, and his hips sway playfully into your own, nudging you only to pull you back to his side with a bright grin on his face. "Meant what I said about not letting go of yer hand." 

"Keep it, it's yours." You squeeze back, looking up at Johnny to see him observing his surroundings keenly—must be a soldier thing, you muse. "Do you come here much?" 

"A little. Usually kept pretty busy back on base." He answers, glancing at you before taking in more of the area.

"Well, I guess you'll be getting familiar." You nudge his hips, returning his earlier playfulness as you flirt with him unashamedly.

His eyes are fixed on you now—a brow raised and a mirthful smile on his face at your assumption.

"Oh, will a now?" 

"I hope so." You admit sincerely, feeling the heat in your cheeks. If you keep smiling as much as you have so far, the expression will be permanently etched onto your face. "But that'll be more, so after we see the kitties. Our slots in 20 minutes, right?" 

"Aye, you excited?" He looks at you as if to confirm your true reaction, his eyes searching. 

"I am, honestly I was expecting just a normal coffee date but as soon as you suggested it, I couldn't let it go." You're practically rambling, but honestly, Johnny's suggestion was perfect. First, it let you know he enjoyed, or at least was at ease around cats, which was always a green flag. Plus, it was something different, catered to the two of you that shows he'd been thinking about it, and who wouldn't swoon at that? 

And on the off chance there was an awkward silence where you didn't know what to do, at least you had furry friends for you both to pay attention to. 

His eyes flicker with doubt for a moment, before he masks it with a distracting smile. "Was worried it might be a bit naff." 

If only he knew how much you had been freaking out about how cute you found the whole thing—and the fact that he might as well have just straight up said it was the beginning of your new dynamic together. You'd be his pet, the whole thing made perfect sense. "If it is naff, it'll only be because I might get jealous." 

"Ach, why?" He asks, seemingly finding the idea of you needing to ever feel such a thing ridiculous. 

You look up at him with soft, pleading eyes and a playful pout on your lips. "Well, you'll be giving all the cats head pats, but will you have any for me?" Even the tone of your voice is designed to tug at his heartstrings, slipping into your role so naturally. 

"I'll always have some for you, kitty." He laughs, letting go of your hand just to ruffle at your hair until you playfully shove him away—then he's grasping at you again, not wanting to relinquish contact for even a second. 

"Besides, they get to wear collars and flaunt it right in front of me. Don't they know what they're doing?" A suggestive smirk is directed at him, which he eagerly returns.

"Oh, you'll be in one before you know it, bonnie." He drops this news so casually, like it's the most natural thing in the world— as if the two of you are just having a regular conversation  "We'll come again, make them jealous right back." 

You swallow thickly, already aching for that eventuality—even if it may be a ways away.

"Sounds like a date." You mumble, filled with shyness and need. Coughing, you take a moment to compose yourself and steer the conversation away from something that will send your thoughts spiraling. "I did look through the website to see what kind of cats they had, and there's a cat with your name, different spelling though." 

Johnny pulls you closer, head dipping slightly to talk close to your ear, his tone dropping to a dangerous low. "Now I'm gonnae be the jealous one." 

His words make you shiver, make it difficult to keep walking like everything is fine—but you can flirt just like he can. You look up at him, fluttering your eyelashes prettily as you smile so sweetly. "I've only got eyes for one Johnny, don't worry." 

The blush that rises to his cheeks tells you that your act had the desired effect.

"That's what I like tae hear." He mumbles, squeezing your hand in an affectionate gesture. 

After wandering the high street for a short while and just enjoying each other's company, you circle back to your destination. The two of you enter the café, kick off your shoes (or boots for Johnny), and are seated at a table toward the back of the room— just a little out of sight from everyone else. You order a tea, while Johnny orders a flavoured coffee, giving you an insight into his tastes and preferences that makes you smile. 

You remind yourself to keep that information in mind for later, filing it away under your list of things about Johnny that you're sure will only expand throughout the day. 

When the server leaves the table, the two of you look upon each other fondly—shy smiles and burning cheeks. There are so many words at the tip of your tongue, so many things you want to say and ask and know about the man before you—as your brain buzzes with energy, so do your hands, feeling a little lost now they're no longer connected to any part of his body. 

It's easy to tell that Johnny sees more than he lets on, as he observes you before him and seemingly filters through your thoughts.

You return the favour and watch Johnny intently—eyes fixated as his tongue darts out to wet his lips, as his throat bobs as he swallows, and your brain is invaded with a deluge of inappropriate thoughts. 

Luckily, you're saved by the bell—a little tinkling noise from a cat beside you as it walks on by and demands your attention with a haughty meow.

"Look, there's Jonny!" You gasp quietly, the cat just a few feet away staring at you curiously. Taking it slow, you lower your hand to the ground and make no move toward the cat, waiting for it to get a smell and a feel for you. It isn't long before the cat in question is launching himself into your lap, drawing delighted laughs from both you and Johnny. 

You run your fingers through the thick fur of the white longhair, figuring out what spots the cat likes most. 

"He likes you." Johnny comments with amusement, shuffling ever so slightly closer until your thighs touch—his arm slips around the booth seat behind you as he settles in.

Your eyes meet his, your skin prickling with the intensity of his closeness. "Hopefully like the human version." 

"Definitely." The arm around the back of the seat comes to settle on your shoulders, as Johnny slowly moves his hand over to the cat and lets him sniff his fingers. Johnny's eyes brighten unmistakably when the feline nuzzles against his hand, and then he breaks out into a mischievous grin. "D'ya think he's cuter than me?" 

Johnny tilts his head to the side, almost puppylike as he preens at your attention—your eyes roaming over him as if you're making a difficult choice.

"Hmm. He has a lot more hair than you do, but I think you win." You give cat Jonny another stroke, while you smile at human Johnny with glee. "I'll have to feel how soft your hair is to make a real decision, though."

You say it mostly as a joke, but Johnny looks sincere as he urges you to do it. "Go on." 

You raise your hand, panic flowing through you as you hesitate for a moment—your fingers hovering inches away from Johnny's head. He leans into your touch, as you stroke through the short tufts of hair. "It's... so soft." You admit, pulling away quickly before you get carried away. 

"What did yer think it was gonna feel like?" Johnny asks with a barked laugh that you can't help but return. 

You crinkle your nose, because honestly, with the fact he clearly uses styling products to make his mohawk stand on end, you hadn't expected it to feel as soft and pleasant as it did. "I don't know, I can't imagine you have premium shampoo and conditioner in the army." 

"They're just naturally luscious locks, dinnae what to tell yer." He swishes his head playfully, as if he's flipping a head full of hair. 

"Effortlessly flawless, just like the rest of you." You tease him, joining in the joking. 

"Oh aye?" He asks with a wink, playfully fishing for more compliments. 

Not that he needs to fish, you think. Surely Johnny knows how handsome he is, and even before meeting him, you've gushed over his good looks.  

Still, you look upon him with genuine admiration and rapidly unfolding infatuation, you're exalting words tumbling freely from you without much thought. "You're just so... gorgeous, godlike, really."  

"As are you, bonnie. Cannae believe it." The look in his eyes is so real, so intense it makes your heart twinge, and leaves no room for you to doubt the sincerity of his words.

The two of you continue to stare into each other's eyes, enjoying the silent conversation that seems to pass between the two of you—the unspoken desire and adoration. 

"Are we just gonna spend the day staring at each other?" You giggle, breaking the moment when it becomes a little bit too intense for you.

"Wouldnae be such a bad thing." Johnny replies swiftly, ever so smoothly. 

Jonny the cat takes that moment to crawl off your lap, rubbing himself along Johnny as he all but demands pets from the man. Johnny indulges him instantly, large fingers scratching at that perfect point between the kitty's ears. Watching it shouldn't make you blush as much as it does.

"I think he likes you too." 

Johnny nods, a serious look on his face. "He knows we're chums."

"You must give really good head pats." You tease, wishing you could take the words back as soon as you said them. Was saying such a thing too much too soon? Was it too early to start to invoke elements of your potential future dynamic? 

Johnny meets your eye, his lips curling into a smirk as his eyes turn mischievous. "Wanna find out?" 

"Of course." Your response is instant, breathless—already offering yourself up to the man before you. You quickly remember your manners. "Please."

Johnny lets the cat on his lap jump down before he turns his attention to you fully, his hand settling on top of your head as he gently, carefully caresses you. Your body is quickly overwhelmed with shivers, an electric sensation coursing through you as his fingers dip deeper into your hair, massaging at the back of your neck until your eyes start to slip shut from the sheer bliss. 

They shoot back open when his fingers dip the chain on your neck, tugging sharply enough to get your attention without putting any real force behind it.

He leans in as if to share a secret, his smirk wolfish as you continue to react so perfectly to his touch. "Nice choker, by the way, pet." 

"Wore it just for you." You whisper, words weak as you tremble with so much need for Johnny. 

He's pulling back, taking all his warmth with you, before he strokes through your hair one more time. "That's my girl."

You could burst into flames right now, or simply melt under the intensity of his gaze. Not even an hour into date one, and you can already feel how wet this man has made you, how much he makes your heart call out to him. Your body and soul burn with need, already wanting more of him in every way.

"Fuck." You sigh in frustration, burying your head into his shoulder to hide your aroused expression. "I hate that there's so many people around right now." 

"Feeling naughty?" He chuckles in such a knowing way, because he knows exactly what he's doing and how you feel about it. 

You meet his gaze, eyes desperate and pleading for mercy. "Johnny, I feel drunk and mindless already and you haven't even actually done anything." 

He moves one of your hands from your thigh to his, holding onto it for a moment. He won't offer you mercy, but he will at least let you see how you make him feel too. "Can I borrow your hand?" 

"Why?" You ask reflexively, before your thoughts catch up to you. Oh. Oh!" 

You allow him to move your hand further up his thigh until your fingers graze over the hardness in his jeans, and you have to stifle your gasp with your other hand.

"Why am letting the cats come to me insteada the other way around." He whispers, voice gravelly and strained. 

The feelings both his words and his body inspire in you are dangerous, causing you to act as you palm at his cock through his jeans, listening to the hitches in his breath as you begin to stroke and caress. He's rock solid, all before you even laid a hand on him, and it's addicting to you that he's clearly in just as deep as you are—that he sees all this as you do. 

His hand moves to grab at your wrist, warning but not painful. "Ach, quit it." He groans, now on the receiving end of such wonderful torture.

"You started it." You whine, taking the chance to grasp him one more time before you stop your teasing. "Johnny you're fucking huge." 

Already your head spins just contemplating it, but Johnny only adds to your delirium. 

"Wait until it's stuffin' yer little cunt full." He purrs, lips brushing against your skin as he does, and you have to resist the urge to moan aloud.

You take a deep breath, forcing yourself to pull away from Johnny as you slip out of the booth. "Okay, I need a breather, join me at the cat tree when you've... calmed down." 

His smile is devilish, as he watches you go, content to spectate from afar as you coo over the kittens until he can join you.

Your time at the café passes quicker than either of you would have liked, and when it's time for you to vacate your table, the server approaches once more with a bill for the teas and coffees you had enjoyed. 

"Will you be paying together or separately?" They ask, which causes you to glance at Johnny questioningly.

You'd already, in your mind, prepared yourself to offer one or both halves of the bill.

Johnny speaks before you can. "Together." He insists, reaching for his wallet and offering his card to the server—not allowing any room for argument. 

You stay silent until the transaction is complete and the two of you are alone again, before you decide to address it. "Johnny... I would've paid." 

He shakes his head, flipping his wallet shut as he slips it into his back pocket. "Don't be ridiculous." 

You open your mouth to offer further protest, but his brows quirks as he almost challenges you to say another word.

Accepting defeat, you smile graciously and sincerely. "Thank you."

"My ma would pitch a fit if she found out I let yer pay." He continues to wave it off like it's nothing. "Let me spoil yer, aye? You'll hafta get used to it anyway. Okay, kitty?" 

You're not sure if it's the idea of him spoiling you or the nickname that makes you shiver the most, but the combination of both makes your head spin.

"I better start thinking of ways to repay you." You joke, throwing him a flirtatious wink as your hand snakes under his jacket to stroke at his chest. 

Johnny pulls back, face flashing with a realisation and a bright grin. "Oh, before I forget." 

You watch him, just a touch confused, as he reaches into his jacket and pulls out a small, patterned paper bag—he hands it straight to you. "Got yer a little somethin'" 

"Johnny..." You groan playfully, having not expected a gift, or having brought anything for him either. 

"It's nothin', promise." He smiles, encouraging you to open it. 

You peel open the paper bag to find a handmade, woven bracelet inside—one you've seen in countless stalls across your life, but the sight doesn't fail to make your heart sing.

"Oh my god, a friendship bracelet?" Your delighted gasp is genuine, as you feel touched by the gesture. 

"Needed to buy something at a souvenir shop. Y'know blend in, look like a tourist." He shrugs casually. "Thought of you." 

"I love it, thank you." You clutch it to your chest, genuinely so pleased. "Did you get yourself one?" 

"No?" Johnny plucks the bracelet from you, as he takes hold of your wrist and gets to tying the threads together. 

You pout, half joking and half serious, as you realise you won't be matching. "Wow, guess we're not friends then." 

"Puppy." His tone is warning and serious, drawing your attention to him so obediently. 

You swallow, nerves flooding through you. "Yeah?" 

His eyes never waver from yours, the sincerity within making you tremble. "The things I'll do to yer, friends don't do tae each other, yeah?" His low tone and the lack of a playful smile make you clench. 

"Understood." You nod dumbly, too awestruck and aroused to give him a real response. 

"Good girl." He grins, patting your wrist with the bracelet now attached. "Ready to go?" 

"Yeah..." 

He takes your hand in his once more, leading you back to the entrance to collect your shoes before you make it back onto the street. All the while, you turn his words over in your head, desperately holding on to the soaring feeling in your chest and the pit of arousal deep inside you. The effect he has on you is downright vicious.

"Where to now?" He asks, waiting for you to lead him around the city. 

The cooler air of the street helps calm you down, as you steer your thoughts back to more appropriate things. 

"I was thinking we could just walk around, window-shop. Maybe grab some dinner? When have I got you til?" 

"Last train is at 9." 

You sigh wistfully, already dreading the moment he has to feel. "Doesn't feel like long enough." 

"You'll be sick of me by then, lass." He chuckles, his smile still making you feel as full as it did the first time you saw it. 

"Not if you're sick of me first."

The two of you take in the city streets hand in hand for a little while, wandering around the shops and chatting about anything and everything. The conversation comes just as easy as it always does, and before long the two of you head for something to eat and drink at a nearby pub.

The atmosphere is cosy as the two of you tuck yourselves away at a table in the corner, order your food and drinks and get to chatting once more. You've already teased Johnny for ordering another coffee along with his meal, while he needled you for ordering several side dishes instead of a main. 

Both of you are excited to tuck in when the food arrives, and your conversation turns to getting to know more about the other. 

"So, what can you tell me about work?" You ask, finally feeling brave enough to broach the subject. Johnny's work will come with a lot of complications, you already know that, and one of them is likely that he will have to be careful about the things he shares. That doesn't stop your curiosity, though. 

"What d'ya wanna know?" He responds, open and earnest, as he dips a chip into his sauce.

You think for a moment, trying to conjure up your most pertinent questions. "Who do you work with?" 

Johnny swallows his food before wiping his hands on his napkin and pulling out his fun. He turns it to you when he brings up a photo, zoomed in on an older man in tactical gear.

"Well, first there's the Captain, Price. Best captain we could ask for." He comments, looking to you for your response.

Something in the Captain's eyes tells you he's dependable, and you can hear the respect he holds from Johnny's voice. 

"Interesting facial hair." You giggle, referencing the grown-out mutton chops that surprisingly suit him.

Johnny laughs, nodding in agreement. "Oh aye, a right character he is." He swipes along the photo to another man, much younger but tall too.

His smile is the first thing you notice, so bright and earnest, and with perfect teeth. 

"Gaz, Kyle. We're always getting into shit together." He adds with a mischievous chuckle. "Good lad though."  

"He looks nice." You offer, before scrolling across the image yourself. 

The next man in line is the tallest and broadest, his face hidden behind a skull mask that you find strangely endearing. "Ooh, cool mask." 

"That's Ghost." Johnny whispers, his voice more sombre than before.

The lack of a real name combined with the mask confuses you. "Just Ghost?" You ask. 

"Aye, unless he tells you otherwise. Scary motherfucker, loves a good dad joke though." Johnny humanises him, and the fondness within his voice doesn't escape you. 

All in all, you're left with more questions than answers, but you already feel privileged that Johnny has shared this much with you. Still, there's something pressing on your mind. "Everyone gets a nickname, what's yours?" 

"Soap." He answers firmly, a slight smile tugging at his lips.

"Soap? Why?" You can't say you're familiar with military nicknames, but Soap certainly seems like a strange one. 

"Am good at cleaning house." There's something underlying his playful tone that you can't quite put your finger on, something hinting at the inevitable darkness underneath. 

Johnny pushes past it like it never happened, turning the attention back on you. "How's your work, anyway?"

"Boring, though I imagine every job is compared to yours." You pause, taking a sip of your drink as you try to conjure up anything interesting about your career. "I work at my PC all day and the highlight is office gossip, which is often about one or two messy people fucking everyone in the building." 

"Like reality TV, but you live it?" He smirks, already seeming amused by the inevitable stories he'll get to hear. It seems Johnny might be a little bit of a gossip. 

"Yes, exactly!" You giggle, finding his intrigue endearing. "So I live in reality TV and you live in one of those gritty military shows." 

"Pretty much." He clicks his tongue, turning to take a sip of his own drink as his eyes glaze over again. 

You dread to think of all the things he's seen—witnessing them on TV is already too much for you, never mind seeing them for real. 

"... It must be tough." You offer earnestly, unsure of what else to say. 

"Sometimes, it's no' so bad, really." He shrugs, a tight smile on his lips. "I'd rather not talk about it while I'm with yer, not now anyway. That okay?" 

The softness in his eyes fuels the guilt gripping at your chest—you never meant to pry or make him uncomfortable, only to offer yourself up as a safe space. "Yeah, I'm sorry." 

"Nothing to apologise for. You'll have plenty of time to get to know that part of me, tha's all." He gives you a smile, a more earnest one this time, as he refuses to let either of you settle in a solemn moment. Instead, he redirects to the idea of you spending time together in the future. 

"Oh, I will?" You ask, voice hopeful—any negative emotions swirling away as Johnny reaches out to stroke your hand.

"Already planning our second date in ma head." He winks cheekily, that gorgeous smile back on his face in full effect. 

You settle back into your meal with a contented warmth spreading through you, feeling like there's nowhere else you'd rather be than by Johnny's side.

When you make it to the train station hours later, your heart starts to sink as you get closer and closer to your goodbye. The sun is only just beginning to dip into the sky, but the train schedule demands Johnny's return to Hereford. 

The two of you stand before the departure boards, savouring your last moments together as you hold each other close.

"How are yer getting home?" Johnny asks, ever the gentleman. 

You don't look him in the eye as you speak words you know he isn't going to enjoy hearing, in fact, you all but hide in his chest as you mumble. "I was planning on walking." 

He stiffens, pulling away slightly. "I'll order an uber." His words are laced with a protectiveness—and whether it's his instincts as a man, a soldier, or a dom you're not sure. Likely, it's a combination of all, making him determined to get you home safe and sound. 

You already know better than to argue with him on this. "I can order my own uber." 

His eyes soften, clearly relaxing upon hearing you relent so easily. "Promise?" 

You nod. "I swear, I will." 

You cuddle back into his chest again, the two of you clinging to each other. With your ear pressed against him, you can hear the steady rhythm of Johnny's heart, and you focus on it beating as you absorb every last moment with him. 

That moment is interrupted by the station announcement, informing you that the next train to depart will be his. 

"I better get going." He loosens his grip on you but still holds your arms as he stares down at you adoringly. 

"Don't want you to." You admit, voice a little forlorn. It already hurts to let him go, especially since you don't know when you'll see each other again. Johnny could be deployed again at any moment, and after making all of this real, the thought seems paralysing.

"I don't want to either, but I'll see yer soon." He whispers soothingly, a hand stroking across your cheek as the promise falls from his lips. 

You force yourself to smile, to feel strong in the face of your separation. Something within you urges you to put on a brave face, to show Johnny that you can be resolute for him. "We'll have to think more on a cool date number two idea." 

"We will." He nods, fingers still stroking oh so delicately across your cheek, as his eyes flicker down to your lips. "Bonnie?" 

"Yeah?" Your response is barely audible, your breath stolen as you know what's coming next, and you crave it so desperately. 

"Gonna kiss yer now, if tha's alright."

"Please." 

Johnny closes the final inches as he presses his lips to yours—soft and gentle at first as his hand cups your cheek, before the other comes to grasp at you too, holding you in place as he deepens the kiss. Your body floods with euphoria, desire, peace—as you kiss back with everything you have and pour all of yourself into him. 

The two of you are lost in each other, all grasping hands and lips caressing lips—two hearts opening up to each other. 

Johnny is the only one of you with enough restraint to pull away, settling his forehead against yours as he smiles unreservedly—his eyes shining with delight. "Fuckin' Christ." 

You push against his chest, putting some distance between you as you giggle. "You better go before we commit acts of public indecency." 

"Aye." He nods, yet he tucks a finger under your chin to angle your mouth up at him. "One more?" 

You nod enthusiastically before diving back in, savouring his lips on yours—the taste of coffee, the softness contrasted with his stubble, the hint of a groan that rumbles through him. 

"Okay." He sighs, forcing himself to step away, even if your hands remain linked. "Message me when you get home, yeah?" 

"I'll be texting you the second you leave, sorry." 

"Oh, I was planning on doing the same, dinnae worry." He winks.

Reluctantly, you let him go—instantly feeling a little more lost without him at your side. 

"See you soon, Johnny." You call out, smile soft as he makes his way over to the ticket gate. 

"Not if I see yer first, sweetheart." He calls back, then turns his attention away to scan his ticket at the barrier. 

On the other side, he catches your eye once more, offering you a tiny, playful salute before he turns to make his way to his train. 

You're left in a weird state between euphoria and emptiness—feeling like you have everything and nothing at the same time. Johnny was everything you could've wanted and more, and you're already counting down the days until you can see him again. 

You watch until his silhouette disappears, and turn your attention to your phone to get to ordering that uber you promised him you'd take. When you unlock your phone, a message from Johnny is waiting for you. 

Miss you already, my pretty kitty <3

[4wkjun]

daddy sim | sjy

Chapter 2: I kissed you first ➥ Contains: suggestive talk, fluff, swearing. ➥ Word count: 3.3k

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April 23rd, 2022 Saturday

Jake couldn’t be happier. A little scared, but happy. Your lips felt so soft against his, not to mention your hot tongue brushing deliciously against his! He almost fell off the stool when you pulled him closer by the nape of his neck, your fingers intertwined between his soft, recently cut hair.

“I like your hair longer”, you whispered against his lips for a brief moment.

Jake’s cheeks were a soft pink while he looked into your eyes, his pupils dilated as if he just got high from your taste.

“Huh?”

“Your hair”, you repeated, carefully pulling his short strands. “I like it better when you let it grow out.”

“I’ll let it grow, then”, he whispered back with a smile. “So you’ll have something to pull on”, he said directly into your ear.

You whimpered, the alcohol running free inside your veins. No, wait. Jake was running free inside of your veins. You kept your desire to kiss Jake’s plump lips to yourself for this whole year, afraid he’d brush you off by saying he’s into guys.

You wanted to laugh to yourself. You were so used to guys treating you like shit that you just assumed Jake was either gay or just really friendly.

Jake got up off his stool, adjusting his body between your legs. Your hands ran across his neck towards his shoulder blades, your nails slightly digging along.

“God, I’ve been waiting for this for the longest time”, Jake groaned before kissing your lips again.

He tried his best to be self-conscious and keep in mind all of your friends — and all of Jay’s, people you didn’t even know! — were around, avoiding a boner from popping out just from kissing you restlessly. You didn’t care, though. The alcohol made you ridiculously horny, you could ride Jake right there and then.

“What the fuck?”, Yunjin yelled a little too close.

Your girls realized you were taking too long while “talking” to Jake. They got worried you may be arguing and decided to look after you, worried they’d find you upset in a corner. You were not upset.

Jake suddenly pulled away from you, startled. His eyes got big while staring at Yunjin and Chaewon, both soaking wet and forming a little pool beneath them. They both looked ridiculously shocked, their mouths hanging open.

“Girl, let’s go back”, Chaewon laughed, pulling Yunjin by her arm.

“What?”, Yunjin squeaked - literally, like one of those dog’s toys -, her eyes still wide while she got rid of Chaewon’s grip.

Jake chuckled, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. You only laughed and leaned your head against Jake’s clothed chest.

“Let’s go!”, Chaewon mumbled between her teeth, pulling Yunjin again.

Yunjin left in complete shock, looking back at every three steps she took.

“Maybe we should come back to the pool, hm?”, Jake said under a shaky laugh. He suddenly felt nervous. Not only he was making out with his (drunk) roommate, but he also got caught.

“Are you coming inside?”

“What?”, he asked after awkwardly clearing his throat. You laughed.

“The pool.”

“Oh! Yeah, sure!”, he said in a high-pitched voice. You laughed, intertwining your fingertips in his.

Jake couldn’t understand how he walked you to the barbecue area with his heart in his hand and now he was leaving the same area intoxicated by you. Is this some sort of sick dream?

April 24th, 2022 Sunday

You woke up on the couch, your back flat against something. No, not something. Someone. Jake. You let out a groan as you opened your eyes, the room being way too bright for your hungover head.

Enjoying Jake’s body’s warmth, you closed your eyes again and leaned further against his body. You wished you were the kind of drunk who forgot everything you did while hammered, but you didn’t. You remember every single stupid thing you said and did, including kissing Jake. Well, kissing Jake wasn’t stupid... Right?

You turned around to face him and buried your face in the crook of his neck, feeling his — now a lot less intense — cologne filling your nostrils. Your head hurt a little harder by the scent, but you didn’t care.

For some reason, you became ridiculously rational. You really liked Jake — not in a romantic way, but you were attracted to him to say the very least —, you knew what kind of guy he was and everyone already judged the two of you for living together and not being a couple. So now, you had two possibilities in front of you: either he’d wake up and regret everything or he’d wake up and you’d try to make it work. Your heart deserved some calm and healing love like Jake’s.

You spent a while there, your eyes closed and arm tossed around his waist, just enjoying the peace you were feeling. Jake started to shift under your touch and let a deep sigh out, signing he was awake. His hand found its way to your head and he caressed your — a little tangled — hair.

“Morning”, you whispered. Jake jolted in place, surprised by the sound of your voice.

“Jesus, you scared me”, he chuckled. “Good morning, y/n. Comfy in there?”

You nodded, snuggling against his skin.

“Wanna talk?”

“About what?”, you mumbled, your voice still a little hoarse.

“About... What happened?”, he said funny. You chuckled.

“I don’t regret kissing you if you’re wandering”, you said, a little embarrassed. Things were easier to speak while the alcohol was in command. “... And I hope you don’t either”, you whispered feeling your ears hot.

Jake laughed, not believing the words falling out of your mouth.

“Are you kidding me? I’m in love with you for the longest time, y/n. I was scared, waiting for you to kick me out of here”, he laughed.

“Jakey...”, you groaned. “I don’t think I ever allowed myself to like you that way”, you admitted. “You don’t have to do anything with me if that’s gonna hurt you, you know?”

Before answering, Jake hugged you closer, his nose now touching your scalp.

“I don’t mind. I can lure you in, you know?”, he said, joking.

You laughed, caressing his back.

“Lure me in?”

“Oh, yeah. You’re not gonna be able to get rid of me, honey.”

The both of you laughed, way too lazy and hungover to get up. You stayed that way for a little longer, enjoying the moment. Hopefully, none of you would leave this apartment hurt.

May 2nd, 2022 Monday

It’s been a week since you and Jake started “dating”. Between these awful commas, because nothing has officially been said, you’re just acting like a couple. And honestly, things are great that way for the both of you.

The two of you walked inside of the campus holding hands, talking about the last episode of the drama you were watching together. Jake made sure to drop you in front of you in front of the building of your class, saying goodbye with a soft peck on the lips.

You walked inside of the building fanning yourself with your hand, feeling the thin layer of sweat forming on your forehead. The spring wouldn’t be over for another 20 days, but it was already getting unbearably hot.

“Good morning, Wonnie”, you greeted while sitting next to Chaewon. You grabbed your coat from the inside of your purse, getting ready for your class.

“Good morning, Mrs. Sim”, she mocked. You rolled your eyes, looking around to check if Jay was entering the classroom.

“Stop being ridiculous”, you groaned. “We’re just... hanging out.”

“Yeah, sure. You two live together, I bet you’re fucking on top of every surface of that tiny apartment.”

You pouted, feeling your cheeks hot.

“We’re not. We haven’t done anything but kiss so far, I’m afraid it’ll hurt him”, you shrugged.

“Wow, your dick must be huge”, Chaewon joked. You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head.

“I mean it! I want our first time to be special...”

“But?”

“But it’s so hard sometimes”, you sighed. “It’s hard to be a lady around him.”

Chaewon laughed, messing up your hair with the palm of her hand. You groaned, taking her hand away from your scalp.

“Stop it, it’ll be oily!”

She laughed again, staring at you a little more softly.

“I hope things work out between the two of you. You’ll be a cute couple.”

“I know, right?”, you said like a teenager, getting a loud laugh out of her. “Just... keep things down around Jay. I think it’ll be weird if things don’t work out between me and Jake and he finds out.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t say a thing”, Chaewon whispered stretching her pinky out. You never break a pinky promise, right?

May 6th, 2022 Friday

“I’m taking you out after class”, Jake said as soon as he stopped in front of your building’s entrance.

“Today?”

“Yep”, he smiled. “I’m gonna take you on a real date, what do you say?”

You stood up on the first of the three small steps of the entrance, being now almost Jake’s height. His hand never left yours, his thumb caressing the back of your hand.

“I don’t think I deserve you, Jaeyunnie”, you said tilting your head.

He typically scrunched his nose, never truly used by people calling him Jaeyun. However, he smiled big before letting go of your hand to hold your face. Both of his hands felt warm against your cheeks, making you pout a little. He placed a soft peck on your lips before letting go of your face.

“I don’t deserve you, silly.”

“Shh, stop being cute and walk away”, you joked. Jake laughed, but obeyed, walking towards the building next door. You turned away, ready to get inside of your building.

Until a hand grabbed your arm. You jolted in place, surprised. Your eyes only got back to their original size when you turned around and found Jay standing right there.

“Jay, what the fuck?”, you exclaimed dramatically, putting your hand on your chest to feel your heart - obviously racing.

“When were you gonna tell me things worked out between the two of you?”, he asked, almost offended.

“What?”

“You and Jake”, he said as if it was obvious. Well, it was.

“Oh...”

“Oh...”, he mocked. “I thought you trusted me!”

“And I do”, you answered exasperated. “I just didn’t want you to think less of me if things didn’t work out!”

“What do you mean if they don’t work out? Did you just miss the whole love session out there?”

You pouted.

“We’re not really dating, Jay... We’re kinda trying to see how things work out...”, you shrugged.

“Ok, you don’t need to explain things to me, silly. We’ve been friends for almost six years, don’t you know I’ll judge you even if you’re doing the right thing?”, he said in a fake expression of love.

You rolled your eyes and punched his shoulder before turning around and walking away. Jay let out a mix of moan and laugh, chasing you.

“Wait for me!”

You felt anxious when the bell rang and determined the class was over. That meant you were gonna go out with Jake for the very first time — as a real date.

You waited for him in front of your building, smiling big when his face showed up in the middle of that many people. You had to bribe your friends so they wouldn’t wait for Jake with you and make a cheesy BGM for the two of you.

“Hi, beautiful”, he greeted.

“Hi, handsome”, you greeted funnily. Jake laughed before pecking your lips. It’s been just a couple of weeks — in reality, not even two weeks yet —, but he felt so addicted to your lips... The poor guy couldn’t get enough.

“Ready for our date?”, he smiled. You nodded, smiling back.

Jake took you out of the campus by holding your waist next to him. He told you about the living hell his last class was and his heart felt full when you laughed adorably at his infamous joke. He guided you through the streets next to the campus, only to find a cozy little restaurant around the corner.

“I have never seen this place before, can you believe it?”, you told him as he held the door open for you. Jake laughed, nodding.

“I can, actually. It used to be a clothing store, the owners sold the place around a year ago. I loved that store, so I decided to give the new owners a try”, Jake explained in a quiet tone while the two of you found your way to a table. “I came here with Jay a couple of times and he agreed it’d be nice to bring you here.”

“You told Jay we’re hanging out?”, you ask softly. You didn’t want Jake to think you were embarrassed of him. Thankfully, he knew you weren’t.

“He’s the reason I kissed you at his party, dummy”, he responded with a playful expression. You laughed, shaking your head. Jake pulled the chair for you and your heart skipped a beat.

“Technically, I kissed you first”, you corrected.

“Only because you backed off the first time”, he responded rolling his eyes. Jake sat across from you with a smile hanging on his lips.

The waiter wasted no time and offered the “nice couple” the menu. It took you a while to decide what to eat, but you were happy with your decision. You chose pasta with wagyu beef, something that reminded you of your childhood — but a lot tastier than your childhood memories.

Your lunch was filled with soft laughs and hand-caressing over the table. It felt way too soon for you to admit something out loud, but your heart was already melting because of Jake.

The two of you had an “argument” about who would pay for lunch — and you lost, because Jake is a real gentleman and wouldn’t let his girl pay for anything! — before walking out of the lovely restaurant and taking a walk down the Han River. You wanted to make a joke about how cliché your first date was, but it felt so perfect that you didn’t have the heart to make fun of it.

Jake seemed upset as the time went by because the two of you only had two hours to spare before going to work. You found a part-time job as a barista in a small coffee shop downtown right after getting into college and stayed there ever since. Jake, on the other hand, jumped from part-time jobs before actually getting hired as a high school physics teacher. He’d only teach during the afternoon, which was a lot more tiring than it sounded. He dropped you off at your job before sadly walking to his.

You got home almost seven p.m. that night. You were so tired, your feet were killing you. For most of the days, things were pretty chill at the coffee shop, but not today. You couldn’t take your break and got home starving, almost chewing your nails on the way back home.

However, your face changed from grumpy to happy as you walked into your shared apartment and found Jake shirtless — as usual — while cooking you dinner. Well, cooking sounded a little odd, since Jake could only cook rice, but he was passionately filling some homemade pizza before shoving it into the oven.

“Hi, babe”, you said while tossing your shoes off your feet. Jake looked at you through the tiny kitchen. Usually, the disposition of your apartment bothered you, because it felt weird to be able to look at the whole kitchen from the hall. But now, looking at Jake cutely cooking for you, it didn’t bother you at all.

“Hi, pretty”, he smiled. He wasn’t gonna say anything, but his heart skipped a beat since you called him babe. “How was work?”

“Tiring”, you sighed. “Whatcha cooking?”, you asked funnily. Jake laughed, showing you the spread dough on the counter.

“Hope you’re craving some pizza, ‘cause that’s what you’re having for dinner”, he said with a big smile. You chuckled and nodded before walking towards him.

You hugged Jake from behind, your hands loose around his waist. Even though you started to “try things out” only a couple of weeks ago, you’ve always been caring towards Jake, but now everything seemed a lot more intense to him. Ah, such a sucker for you.

“It smells good”, you mumbled with your eyes closed.

“It’s not even in the oven yet”, Jake laughed.

“I mean you”, you chuckled. Jake smelled like fresh soap, even though you knew he would probably shower just before going to bed. He felt his cheeks burn as he scoffed.

“You tryin’ to seduce me?”, he asked, masking his amusement behind his humor.

“Depends, is it working?”, you whispered behind his back.

“Unfortunately, yeah”, he sighed. You laughed.

“I’mma take a shower, is that ok with you?”, you asked, letting go of him.

Jake held the urge to say “Only if you let me join”.

“Yeah, sure. Go ahead, pretty.”

“‘Kay.”

You walked out of the shower around ten minutes later, wearing your version of pajamas: some wide cotton shorts and a random t-shirt you found in your closet. Your hair was damp, freshly washed and detangled, the scent of your shampoo intoxicating the room.

Jake was sitting on the couch, scrolling through TikTok while waiting for the pizza to bake. You sat next to him, making him drop his phone and look at you. His hands reached for your legs, bringing them to top his as he massaged your calves. You hummed, closing your eyes and leaning against his shoulder.

“This feels good?”, he asked in a whisper. Something about his tone made your stomach turn, so close to being turned on.

“Yeah”, you whispered back. “You’re good with your hands”, you said after a while of silence, reuniting your courage to say something like that.

Jake laughed and clicked his tongue, shaking his head.

“Yeah, but I’m better with my mouth”, he whispered back.

Your breath got heavier as you lifted your head to face him. His eyes were always almost completely black when he looked at you, his pupils dilated in adoration. Now, however, they were dilated because he desired you so badly.

“Who said so?”, you asked in a shaky breath, trying to sound funny. You failed, only sounding like a psycho girlfriend. Jake laughed, amused to know he could make you swing over your mood.

“I heard it once... But you can always try and tell me differently”, he mumbled before holding your jaw in place. You suppressed a moan when Jake’s lips found yours with eagerness, something that you were about to get used to. You get around to doing something so many times but never finish it.

Your hand squished his on your jaw as his mouth found a different patch. Instead of simply kissing your mouth, Jake’s lips decided to kiss your jawline and neck, inhaling your scent.

“God, Jake...”, you sighed. “It’s so hard to keep my cool when you do this.”

“Then don’t keep it, love”, he groaned before sucking your skin a little harshly.

“I... Don’t want you to regret it when we... You know”, you managed to speak weakly as his lips continued harassing your neck.

“Why would I?”, he asked genuinely, his lips now out of your skin. He looked at you seriously, waiting for your response.

“I don’t know”, you answer with a shrug.

“Are you gonna regret it?”, he asked, caressing your cheek with his thumb. His fingertip reached way too close to your bottom lip, making you anticipate his touch in that area.

“I’m gonna regret it if I don’t let you fuck me now”, you sighed before leaning in to kiss him again.

[pixie-in-a-moonlantern]

KILL ME LIKE A LOVER

Durgetash | explicit 18+ Enver Gortash x f!Durge / Halsin Silverbough x f!Durge smut, sex, p in v sex; homicidal urge, light bondage in a non-sexual setting, graphic threats of violence; prolonged emotional/physical hurt, comfort, fluff, love confession, 2 romantic relationships (separate for now, hinting at possible future poly f!Durge/Halsin/Gortash)

❗ Closely follows events of the first fic: I Don't Like You (Tumblr | AO3)

Read on AO3 for more context and comfort (I'll be very grateful if you toss me a kudo there as well, even if you read and reblog here ♥ - remember, fic writers share their work for free!)

13,795 words in 10 chapters

My Spotify playlist for this couple »

“You’re back,” he whispers, and an almost maniacal glow radiates from him. “And something in you is drawn to me, I can see it. It makes me hopeful.” He tilts his head to the side and brushes hair away from my neck. “Did you really not expect me to use every resource at my disposal to convince you to stay?”

I gulp. Gods, I should never have gone to see him. Some things are best left buried, some fires best left extinguished. But I poked a bibberbang and now my world is ablaze.

01 She walks escorted.

The Watcher walks beside me the whole way to Wyrm's Rock. I try keeping my head down, but any hope of not being noticed is lost with every thundering step the Watcher takes. People hold the Baldur's Mouth gazettes and point at the hallowed hero as she walks escorted to the City's would-be savior for an audience.

I wish I could just open up a portal to the Hells in the sidewalk and jump in. Gortash is going to pay for this one.

We finally reach the elevator to the audience hall and the stupid clanker squeezes in with me. I bulge my eyes, just about ready to go on a murder spree.

"Seriously? It goes straight up into the tower, where else do you think I could go?"

"There is no need for alarm, citizen," the Watcher assures me monotonously, not moving an inch. "I was instructed to deliver you safely directly to the Archduke, Lord Gortash."

"Would you chill with the 'Archduke' already?" I groan, head lulled back. "You know he's not one yet, right? No matter how many times you repeat it."

The Watcher doesn't respond. Perhaps Gortash expects such quips from people and instructs his hellish machines to not react. Or—perhaps if I was other people the metal hulk would just smash me on the spot for such a comment. Fucking tyrant.

What was even wrong with me when I willingly worked with this man, having just as deprived plans for the Sword Coast myself? Did I accidentally get lobotomized into a sane person? That would be one Hell of a joke on fate. And on Bhaal.

I imagine he must be simmering in his own rage, watching his prized child run around helping refugees. That little fantasy cheers me up. I lean on the side of the elevator and just chuckle to myself through the ride, mocking Daddy dearest in the relative privacy of my skull.

The Audience hall is deserted once more. The Steel Watch form a line in between the columns from the entrance to the dais on the other side, standing at attention. It's like some sort of welcoming ceremony, but just for little ol' me.

I reluctantly scale the acres of red carpet over stone flooring, feeling my chest tighten.

Gortash watches me as I approach, the remote-control suit of armor still stomping next to me. This time, he sits on the throne in all his grimy glory like the shameless usurper he is.

Except... he doesn't look grimy. Did he bathe again? What in the Hells does he think he can pressure me into doing?!

... again.

If there's a term for how his face simultaneously brightens and darkens, I can't recall, but that's exactly what happens. He's happy to see me and has very unsavory thoughts about it.

The Watcher only peels off my path once I'm literally at the lowest steps before the dais. I cross my arms over my chest and give Gortash my most unamused expression, even though my heart is racing with both fear and excitement.

He smiles as if he didn't notice it and opens his arms wide in a grand welcoming gesture. "My dearest assassin," he exclaims, voice warm like sunshine.

"Yeah, right, whatever," I roll my eyes. "So what, do I just stand here, like a pleb before their master, or did you have something civil in mind?"

He leans back in his seat and pats his thigh, a smirk playing around his lips. "You can always come sit on my lap."

Indignation and an unwelcome spark of lust flood my chest. I let out a bestial growl, not quite sure if I mean to intimidate him or my inner demons.

Gortash chuckles and, to my surprise, actually stands from his throne and steps down, until he's face-to-face with me.

It's hard to say whether he made it better or worse. I try to keep my gaze from wandering down his ridiculously low cleavage, but looking into his eyes is not much safer. They gleam with both smugness and affection and my stupid heart flutters.

"How lovely to see you, Nara," he drawls, sight approvingly gliding up and down my body. "I love how you chose to wear your custom made version of my gauntlet."

I sigh. I should've known he would bring it up.

I woke up on the nautiloid wearing that thing. I didn't remember anything about it, but it looked badass and was also quite useful. I store a healing potion in the socket and even the claws have come in handy in a pinch.

I didn't feel like getting rid of it when I noticed him wearing the same thing in Moonrise, because I grossly underestimated the significance. I just thought he set off a new trend among Baldurians and I wasn't immune to the allure. Happens to the best of people, right?

After I made the mistake of having sex with my ex, I figured ditching it won't help me anyway—if I do it now, it will only show him that I care.

"I didn't exactly have time to change for you, Gortash," I sneer. "You had your metal munchkin threaten me into coming here. It paraded me through the town, taking the busiest route. What do you think I am to you? Your lapdog? Your fucking mascot?"

Despite my derisive tone, he chances a step closer and my heart jumps up into my throat.

"You came to see me yourself first, remember? No one forced you."

"Well, at least no one saw me then," I bitch.

"Too bad," he bites his lip, coming closer.

He slowly, cautiously reaches out and runs the backs of his fingers along my jaw. I grit my teeth in an effort to not show it, but I like it too much to make him stop. He smiles contentedly and keeps lightly touching my face.

"You're back," he whispers, and an almost maniacal glow radiates from him. "And something in you is drawn to me, I can see it. It makes me hopeful." He tilts his head to the side and brushes hair away from my neck. "Did you really not expect me to use every resource at my disposal to convince you to stay? Nara?"

I gulp. Gods, I should never have gone to see him. Some things are best left buried, some fires best left extinguished. But I poked a bibberbang and now my world is ablaze.

"Do your friends know what you did the other night?" he smirks, smarminess making its comeback in his voice. "Does your druid know?"

"I tell him everything," I say equally smugly, finally gaining some leverage. "He's the most wholesome man I know. He's not trying to own me or isolate me like some."

A shadow of irritation and disappointment dims the self-satisfaction in his face. Point for me.

"Karlach wasn't so understanding," I continue, narrowing my eyes. "She's worried about me falling for you. I told her it's a ridiculous notion, but she proceeded to make me feel better by describing how she's going to disembowel you if you hurt me."

He scoffs. "I can imagine. She always was a crude weapon. Effective, but crude. Nothing like your refined style." His gaze softens again when he gently combs the hair on my temple with the claws of his gauntlet. "You never used brute force, yet there was no one you couldn't break. I wouldn't have been an exception, but you stayed your hand. Against your father's explicit wishes, apparently."

"I'll break you right now if you want," I say in a trembling voice. His tone and touch are doing things to me. I'm getting scared and the Urge in me is trying to respond to the stress with violence.

His mouth stretches into a delighted smile. "I'm sure you'd like that. But so would he. I thought you were done being his good girl?"

My throat goes dry as I recall the night it all went awfully wrong. When I failed to do my duty one too many times. When I got my reward for disobedience.

"What Orin did to me," I croak, "was Bhaal's punishment for my refusing to kill you."

Once Gale understood the predatory patterns of his former lover, he got eerily good at interpreting gods' behavior. He gave me more answers than even Gortash managed to. Knowing this lifted a certain weight off my mind; I wasn't just discarded for being useless—I was being a bad murderer to Daddy and he decided to teach me a lesson.

Gortash's face goes slack for a moment, before darkening with realization. He didn't know. Or he didn't want to. It was easier to blame Orin's ambition.

"So, yeah, I'm done being his tool. If I do kill you, Enver," I'm the one to reach for him this time, running a fingertip down that enticing window of his shirt, "I'll be killing you for myself."

He gulps, fumbling for lost balance. "Incorrect, sweetheart. It was punishment for loving me. Not calling it what it is doesn't make it any less true."

"Did I, though?" I've had a long sleepless night thinking about it. "I was a naive, brainwashed cultist. Did I really choose you? Or were you just convenient? The only man around with enough balls to risk it with me, maybe? Or worse: the only one who figured how easy it would be to use me?"

I'm hissing by the time I finish the last sentence and I can see how close to home it hits. His chest heaves and he takes a few steps back, turning from me. I can't see his face, so I assume he's looking for a way to refute my accusations.

"I don't know."

His voice is so small I can barely hear it. Small and vulnerable, filled with insecurity. I'm once again reminded of the image I created of the little boy Gortash treated to neglect and betrayal instead of love, and I feel the telltale stinging in my eyes.

He slowly turns back, his expression a pure emotional chaos.

"I... don't know if you chose me," he says a little louder this time, but still sounds so... lost. "One day we just... were and..." His eloquence bends under the heft of his uncertainty. "It was so easy to be with you, so... natural. I..." He closes his eyes against the turmoil raised by the memories. "At first I figured you were just having a bit of fun rebelling against Bhaal, but... You were so amazing. So warm, when your Urge was satisfied. I've never... no one ever made me feel like you did."

The only things I knew of our relationship were what he told me. I imagined it a lot different than what it sounds like now, after he suffered a sobering blow to his ego. I can't know how much of this is genuine... but he suddenly painfully reminds me of Astarion, the way he fumbles in the dark as soon as his winning act falls apart.

I know he's not a good man. I've heard plenty about the things he's done—and is still doing. But how much of his flaws can I blame on nature when I also know what he's been through? He's a survivor. No one is inherently evil—not even me.

The people you surround yourself with have a profound effect on you. Even Astarion's worst traits are being slowly worn down in the unexpected acceptance he's receiving. If it had been Gortash who was betrayed, almost killed and taken, and then found by such a wholesome group of similarly afflicted weirdos, would he have remained selfish and cruel? Or would he have chosen a better path, like me?

"I thought I was a 'horrible influence' on you." I swallow hard. I shouldn't believe a word he says... but I do.

"You were," he shrugs casually. I find him a lot more pleasant without the air of fake grandeur. "We did wonderfully bad things together, things I wouldn't have thought of myself. But that was your heritage." He studies my face for a second, longing in his eyes. "No one taught you to be silly and fun. No one taught you to be gentle. No one taught you how to appreciate more than blood and guts in people. You bloomed with all colors like a flower, when we were alone."

I blink the tears away and hug myself. No wonder Bhaal got mad. He wasn't raising me to be gentle and fun. He wanted a devoted follower. He wanted to own me. And yet I seem to have found myself in someone else instead of him.

He couldn't smite him, so he took it out on me.

"Then why can't I remember any of this?" I whisper. "My murdering days keep coming back to me. But the picture where you should be is blank."

I don't expect it and certainly don't wish for it, but Gortash notices my discomfort and rushes to me. He takes my shoulders and squeezes them reassuringly.

"You are his creation," he says grimly. "He has the power to restore everything within you. It's clear why he chooses only the parts without me: for the same reason he had Orin attack you. You were a different person with me—a person he didn't like and didn't need. He won't let you remember me as long as your blood belongs to him."

I'm getting overwhelmed. I feel used, manipulated, trapped. I feel my fear and smell the scent of my blood as Orin's beating the life out of me, calling me slurs I've never heard of. I feel as if someone's invisible hand presses on my windpipe and I sense a dreadful but familiar presence.

"NO!" I'm shaking my head wildly, trying to push him out. The world seems to blacken around me, but I keep fighting. "I'M DONE WITH YOU, YOU HEAR?!" I yell blindly at the ceiling, pulling on my hair.

YOU CAN NEVER BE 'DONE' WITH ME, CHILD.

I gasp when his voice thunders in my brain without having gone through my ears. It's deafening and it's all around me, smothering me.

YOUR CONTROL IS AN ILLUSION. GIVE IN. OBEY. BEFORE YOU FORCE ME TO END YOU.

I shudder and shrink into myself, falling to my knees, cradling my head. I'm suspended in agony for several impossibly long seconds... then my vision goes black.

02 Daddy sets an ultimatum.

"...Talas... Talas!"

My head is pounding and feels like it's stuffed with cotton. Someone's calling out my name... but it's not really my name.

"Nara!"

There it is. But it feels wrong. I feel movement, but can't tell what's happening.

"You know what," I grumble and I'm surprised to hear my own voice, "I've changed my mind. I hate the way you say it."

"Thank the devils," I hear Gortash snort. "As names go, exchanging 'Talas' for 'Nara' is a pure downgrade."

I open my eyes. Red mist is clouding my gaze. I feel thirsty and hungry. A rough palm cups my chin and a violent jerk runs through my body, making my teeth snap and try biting it. But the hand is strong and its grip tightens enough to hold me still.

"Easy now," Gortash hums, unbothered by my little attack. "You're safe. I'm safe. Let's work through it slowly. We've got all day."

I look up and find his face and it's the only thing I can clearly focus on. Everything else is muted, but his features are so sharp I squint at the intensity at first. But I understand. I know what I want now.

I want to kill him.

I grunt and try to reach for him, but I'm restrained. I look down through the red haze and see myself kneeling on red satin sheets. I'm still wearing all my clothes, but my boots, armor and gauntlet are off. The ties right above my elbows creak like tough leather as I strain against them, but I can clearly feel soft padding pressed against my skin. My wrists are bound in front of me. I can move, sit back, relax...

...but I need to KILL.

"Let. Me. Loose," I filter through my gritted teeth, almost foaming at the corners of my mouth like a rabid animal. Then a maniacal giggle gurgles in my throat. "And I'll show you something fun!"

"For fuck's sakes, you're beginning to sound like Orin," Gortash shakes his head in disappointment. "I'm sure you'd have fun, my dear, but if I'm not completely off my game, I believe you would regret it later. Maybe you would even cry for me?" His brows form a hopeful little arch, a soft smile playing on his lips. "I'm not keen on finding out, but I'd like to think you would."

I growl, pulling on my binds with all my strength.

"Don't be a spoilsport, Enver, come on!" I tease, baring my teeth, my tone dark, rough, vulgar. "I know you like the pain. I will cut you and slice you and bleed you real nice. You'll love it, I promise."

"Ssshhh," he soothes, caressing my face, skillfully evading my bites. "You can cut me when you calm down, Talas. You won't get to kill me today."

Anger jolts through me, hot like a branding iron. I lurch at him, uselessly dangling on the ends of the thick chains tying the leather cuffs to the bed frame.

"You will let me loose! And I'll tear you to pieces." My voice scratches like sandpaper. "I will slit your throat... and as you bleed out, I will lick blood off your soft skin." Growls turn to hisses. "I will drink blood from your sweet lips. I will shower in the thick stream of it as the last pathetic bubbles of your breath emerge and burst at the edges of the fresh cut. Then curl against your struggling chest to listen as your heart stops."

Gortash smiles as he listens, infuriatingly misty gaze softening his features.

"That sounds almost romantic," he purrs. He holds my hair firmly in his fist to keep my head steady and nuzzles my neck, slowly kissing a line from my shoulder up to my lobe. "I always thought the Urge was purely homicidal," he hums against my skin, "but is it possible you're mixing in your love and lust for me? Would you kill me like a lover?"

A chortle escapes my lips and I realize he's given me back a sliver of myself. I don't have the capacity to analyze if it were his words or his touch, but a tiny, heavily suppressed part of me suddenly knows what's happening. It knows this is not me. My Urge is spreading through me like a malignant growth, filling every inch of my torso, of my head, and that little piece of me is watching in horror.

No....

I let out a tortured moan and my head lulls back for a second. I can feel my body spasming and the agony is making it hard to keep my thoughts remotely clear. I hear my blood thrum in my ears, and a low voice speaks inside my skull:

It is wise to obey me. Yet you resist. You did not kill the Moonmaiden. You did not kill the druid. But you WILL kill the Tyrant's Chosen.

Or you will DIE in his place, child.

I feel tears trickle out of my eyes, even as my mouth is making raw, animalistic noises. The pressure in my temple grows so much I feel like my head is going to pop. It's excruciating, but I have no intention to submit. I fight with all my will, defiantly flipping off the god I didn't choose till the bitter end.

"En... ver," I squeeze through the teeth I grind so roughly my jaw hurts. My voice is but a wet wail, a desperate plea—but it's mine.

If I could focus on anything beside the blinding pain, I would see the alarm in his face. I register his hands on my arms, holding me upright. The sound of his voice carries over my head, but I can't distinguish the words. A high-pitched whine fills my ears. My vision fades to black again.

And I fully expect to not wake up this time.

03 We are still alive!

A chunk of void. A big skull in the center of it. Flames dancing in its eye sockets and around it. Almost playful.

I don't understand its meaning. Who am I, anyway?

Even though the skull is clearly before me, I can feel it surround me. It presses on my temples and squeezes my chest. I feel a headache of the century crush my head in its metal jaws.

A creature slinks from behind the skull. Hideous, covered in blood. Long body with a thick tail and four clawed arms. It hisses and chitters, spreading its toothy mandibles. Its beady little eyes are flashing with malice.

I cover my head with my arms as it jumps at me.

But it's not there anymore. I try to gasp, but a sick clicking sound comes out of my mouth instead. I hear rumbling laughter—the giant skull is pleased, it's mocking me.

I reach forward and instead of hands I see claws coated in fresh blood...

.

...and I wake up screaming.

There's water everywhere. I thrash and splash and heave for breath, but my arms are wrapped tight around me and my wrists and ankles bound. I accidentally splash water into my mouth, breathe it in and start choking.

Someone's big, strong, incredibly warm hands fish me out and steady me, patting my back, helping me cough. I hear a soft rumble, but this time it's not eerie and foreboding—it's familiar and soothing. A broad palm strokes my wet hair, humming comforting sounds in my ear.

"You are safe, my love. I'm here."

I lift my heavy eyelids and look up. Halsin's beautiful face is in my view and my heart is uplifted. He puts a cold compress over my forehead and I feel a little better.

"Halsin," I squeeze out of my burning throat, failing to make it sound as loving as I felt.

He smiles anyway and his eyes sparkle with affection.

"You will be alright, my heart. I will take care of you."

"I will too," I hear another voice and Gortash steps into view, obviously annoyed by Halsin taking all the credit. He's hugging his chest, nibbling on the ends of his gold claws, looking anxious and worried.

I finally realize where I am. It's Gortash's study. The flames roar in the fireplace next to the bathtub and all lamps are lit: it's dark behind the tall windows. Through the finally calm water I see my body, completely naked.

But none of those things are important right now.

"Come closer, Enver," I croak, failing to produce a seductive voice, sounding like a hag instead. "Untie me, let's have some fun. We haven't finished what we've started."

Halsin and Gortash exchange glances. It only ticks off my Urge. I flail back and forth in the tub for a second, trying to loosen the binds, but they were put on by someone who knew what they were doing. It infuriates me, tearing a ragged scream from my lungs.

"COME CLOSER, BABY, AND LET ME GUT YOU!"

"Nara," Halsin pleads softly, stroking my hair again, putting back the compress I shook off and adding one to the back of my neck. "You will get through this, I promise. The tepid water and the cold compresses should help lower your blood pressure, so you don't suffer an aneurysm. You popped many blood vessels before you passed out. That's why Gortash called me here."

I feel the Urge let up just a smidge when the cool rags press on my aching head and Halsin's voice and touch give me comfort. I try to breathe deeply and steadily. But no matter how hard we both try, it's no use. I take one look at distressed Gortash and the pull is back in full strength.

"Have you experienced this before?" Gortash asks, doing his best to ignore my rabid growls.

"She woke me up in camp several nights ago," Halsin nods somberly. "Refusal to kill Isobel redirected the Urge at the person closest to her heart, as punishment. She came to me before it overtook her and put her trust in me. It lasted the whole night, but she won in the end. But it was not this bad..."

"He..." I try to utter words that are not permitted to leave my lips. I fight my own muscles to continue. "Said... He... Dies or... I do."

Halsin's brows join in surprise and he glances at Gortash again, whose face darkens even more.

"Sounds like we really pissed Bhaal off this time. She screamed at him, defying him, before the Urge took over. I was just an outside observer, but I figured he was communicating with her. Seems like we know the gist of the conversation now."

"What were you doing?" Halsin wonders.

"Nothing much," Gortash shrugs evasively. "Talking. Talas was learning more about our past, about how and why she came to such an unceremonial end in the cult. Said none of her memories of me returned to her. Clearly Bhaal's job."

"Nhhhnnnhhhng!" I add my gold to the discussion, thrashing in the tub again. I'm glad I'm at least able to follow their words, even though I can't contribute. Sweet images of me running my hands through Gortash's spilled guts flash in the back of my mind, but they're just white noise.

Halsin wipes my upper lip with a troubled expression. He lets go of me to touch the air in that divine way of his, to call upon Silvanus, and pulls healing energy out of nowhere, pressing it to my head with the broad palm of his hand. I breathe a little easier for a few moments.

"If this goes on for much longer, I'm afraid even I might not be able to help you," he sighs, squeezing his eyes shut, pressing his forehead to mine. I gulp and just moan in response, hoping my intonation will convey my thanks.

"I don't suppose we could trick the Urge somehow? Have her stab me a couple of times and then knock her out, and when she comes around I'll be lying in a pool of blood and... You get it."

Halsin chuckles in amusement.

"You would just let her stab you? Are you a masochist, or just so in love?"

"What kind of question is that?" Gortash growls defensively. "We have a problem. I'm offering a solution. If I had to die, I'd prefer it to be by her hand, but I plan no such thing just yet."

"I do not think it works quite like that," Halsin shakes his head. "But thank you for the offer."

"It's... my fault she's like this." Gortash's discomfort at admitting responsibility is evident. "I don't want her to die. So if you have ideas, I'll do anything to help."

"You can help me right now, Enver," I screech, failing to restrain myself. "Come here! Come and make love to me. But don't forget to untie me and bring me a knife. I'll show you a little trick! You'll be positively drained after I'm done with you."

"Perhaps the best thing you can do to help is to get out of her sight for now," Halsin suggests and only a touch of derision reaches his tone.

Gortash frowns and grumbles something under his breath, but takes his leave. There's only Halsin's broad form next to me now, effectively shielding me from seeing Gortash. My Urge immediately eases up and I lean back on the headrest, exhausted from fighting my own muscles.

It doesn't last long, though.

"Halsin?" I coo, swallowing hard as I feel another crushing wave of twisted need.

"Yes, my heart?" He bends down to kiss my forehead. It doesn't work as well as before, but I manage to hold back the instinct to bite.

"I love you," I tell him while I can still form words of my own choosing. "And I'm grateful for everything you do for me. Don't take this personally, but now that you're getting in my way of killing Gortash... I'm beginning to want to kill you, too."

He pulls away, but not far, and studies my face. I can see so much compassion in his eyes, but they're tired and he looks older. He wipes my upper lip again and sighs.

"This is going to be another long night, isn't it, my love?"

.

"Halsin, stop," I mumble weakly as he prepares another spell, looking more and more sapped every time. "Please. Just... let me go."

I'm so run down. The pain is debilitating. In the rare moments of peace, all I can do is float. My mind is fried, my organs struggling to keep running. I've had enough.

But the worst is the thought of accidentally pulling Halsin under with me.

"Do not even start," he growls. His voice sounds dry and spent, but he collects the healing energy and once more fixes some of the damage the high blood pressure has done to my vessels.

I want to cry, but I don't have the strength to do it. But I notice something: it's been really quiet for some time.

"Where's Enver?"

"He is... off trying something else."

The evasiveness would normally make me inquire, but the Urge lashes out again, spasming my body, forcing more horrible words out of my mouth.

"I WILL SKIN YOUR LUSCIOUS PELT, LITTLE BEAR! I WILL WEAR IT ON MY BODY AS I WATCH YOUR PATHETIC ATTEMPTS TO PUT YOUR GUTS BACK IN YOUR BELLY. I WILL—"

04 Unbearable lightness of unprecedented fluff.

I feel like I must have died when I open my eyes and nothing hurts anymore. The world is soft and quiet, the water around me like a blanket, the dim flickering lights enhancing the peaceful silence. Perhaps this was the afterlife.

"Welcome back."

I don't recognize the voice at first. I slowly turn my head to find Halsin—

—but I look into Gortash's worn out face, languidly blinking at me. I see a giant bear slumped on the rugs by the bathtub, exhausted from keeping me alive.

I watch Gortash in fear for a little moment. But there's no tug, no agony this time. I only feel... slight elation. My weary heart flutters, tapping into its last reserves of power.

"Enver," I whisper, letting my eyelids fall. I feel his palm cup my cheek and his lips plant a soft kiss on my forehead. Tears stream down my face, but I can't gather enough strength to sob.

It's over. It's really over. At least for now.

"Sshh," he coos quietly, combing my hair. "Do you feel like you can handle moving to the bed? I'm afraid you'll melt if you stay in that bathtub for much longer."

I take a few breaths and nod. The instant I move, I can feel all my muscles scream in protest, but I push myself through it. He's right, my skin is getting tender from soaking so much, I can't just sleep here anymore.

He unties me and that's when the ache in my arms and hands joins the party, making me whimper. I've struggled against my own body for hours and hours with only short reprieves of unconsciousness. It's taken a heavy toll. But I'm alive, and so is everyone else.

My legs are so wobbly I slip back into the water a few times, splashing around, sprinkling sleeping Halsin. His snout twitches and I hear a grumble, but he doesn't wake up. Poor thing.

Gortash is trying to hold me upright, but his angle is all wrong, standing next to the tub. But on my fourth try I manage. I just lock my knees and hope it'll be enough for a minute. I notice the water in the bath is surprisingly fresh after housing me for so long, but it's already draining—someone must've changed it several times during the night.

I gasp in surprise when warm drops start raining down on my head and shoulders.

"Another handy technological marvel," Gortash smiles. "Just try to keep yourself on your feet. Let me wash you."

He takes a sponge and a bar of soap and begins slowly rubbing my skin under the gentle, refreshing shower.

I'm too busy keeping my knees locked and staying awake to have any deep opinions on why he's being so caring. My foggy, tired mind is simply enjoying his attention.

He's gentle and thorough and doesn't shirk from any part of me, but doesn't linger for longer than necessary. I mistily welcome the muted rush of excitement his touch gives me and close my eyes, fully trusting him like I only could with my marbles scattered all over the floor.

"Mmm," escapes my lips. I don't know words, but apparently I can make sounds.

"Sit back down, I'll wash your hair," Gortash commands softly.

I sit curled up, my eyes shut, jaw slack, little mewls of pleasure coming out of my mouth. His fingers caress my scalp in circular motions, coaxing some blood back into my skin. It melts away my tension and feels so good against the leftover headache that still throbs in my skull.

Gortash picks up the shower head and rinses the shampoo foam off my hair. It finally hits me that it smells like him. I let out a quiet chuckle. Doesn't he have a special flower scented bottle for his feminine conquests? Maybe he just likes marking them this way.

He helps me stand back up again, dabs me with a towel and then wraps me in a robe.

"Come here, princess," he murmurs and pulls me into his arms.

And he carries me to the bed. I don't think I would protest even if I had the energy. I may be a strong independent woman... but this is nice.

He pushes a tray of food and drink to me and we both eat in silence. I can't force much into my wrecked throat, but I thirstily guzzle all the water and wine. The slight buzz is not helping my overused veins, but it does wonders for my cramped muscles.

Then I lie on my side, watching him freshen up and change. I finally have plenty of time and no capacity for shame; I take in every detail of him I can spot. The toned muscles of his legs. The line of fine dark hair on his chest going to his groin. The way his thick hair softly reflects light when it's crisp clean. The pleasant, earthy color of his skin. Every glance he tosses over to check up on me.

My heart flutters again. I gulp hard and convince my eyes to close, so I can't see any more of him.

Suddenly the mattress beside me sinks and I can feel him next to me. The warmth from his body envelops me, his scent fills my lungs and I find myself looking into his dark eyes. My poor blood pressure spikes again and I try making my gulps for air subtle, but I can see the delighted amusement deepen his crow's feet.

"Sleep," he sighs, studying my face. "You need to rest to get your strength back."

He runs his fingers through my damp hair and kisses my temple. His skin is soft and warm, but his short stubble and rough palms leave a tickling sensation that's driving me wild. I inhale a lungful of him and press my mouth to his jaw, testing the scratchy surface against my lips.

I can hear his breath quicken and feel his hand move to my shoulder and rub the silk of my borrowed robe. I take his face in my hands and bite this time—just a little, letting my teeth graze the stubble, enjoying the sweet scratch—and I hear a moan.

I forget myself. I forget who he is. I just want to keep tasting his skin.

His mouth is on mine. I hungrily welcome him in. His hand roams my body, kneading my flesh—mine frantically search his every surface, unable to decide where to stay. Perhaps I'm just cold from exhaustion, but I feel like he's radiating more heat than an average human being. I bathe in the warmth, pulling myself as close as possible.

The way he pulls air in through his teeth when I bite his lip is like music to my ears. How is this man so edible? He drags his fingertips across my face and I suck his thumb into my mouth. The low rumble of his chuckle travels right to the knot in my lower belly and my eyes roll back.

He presses me flush to his body, molding my flesh, and I let out a feral groan, grabbing fistfuls of his thick hair and pulling. I need him. I need him now.

His mouth moves to my neck, but he doesn't kiss and nibble like I want him to, he takes me by the nape and immobilizes me. I can hear his ragged breath in my ear as I blink in bewilderment.

"Talas," he exhales desperately. "I know your opinion of me has taken a sharp dive... but I don't fuck mentally compromised women."

He lets me pull away and I stare at him in doubt. He snorts, shrugging.

"Alright, I guess sometimes I do," he admits, "but I just know you'll wake up in the morning with your wits intact and hate me for taking advantage of you."

The hum of blood in my ears quiets down as I swallow my disappointment. Tears sting in my eyes; I can't tell why, but I feel robbed. He sighs and pulls me closer again, but only to hug me.

"I've missed you so much," he whispers into my hair. "I don't want to ruin this." Running his fingers through my hair once more, spreading soothing tingling over my skin, he rocks me gently. "Sleep. I promise I'll make it up to you later... if you still want me to."

I can barely hear his last words, but I sense the uncertainty in his tone. The pressure around my chest tightens and I wrap my arms around him and hold on. The pleasurable hormones surrender the stage to the exhaustion in my muscles and bones. I feel myself falling asleep even before my consciousness drifts off.

05 Warm bodies.

The soft light creeping in through my closed eyelids rouses me gently, but I'm so tired everything still feels like a dream. I cling to my drowsiness and try to go back to sleep again.

Then I feel a warm palm on my hip, stroking the silky fabric covering me.

I shift slightly, moving into the touch, and the hand slowly travels across my back. Another joins it, caressing my thigh. I moan quietly, reaching out for a body to hold—

—and I find two. Both are very warm and my hungry touch is ecstatic to feel each pressed to one side of me. I gently squirm between them, rubbing myself against soft muscle that eagerly responds in kind. Their musky scent is both soothingly familiar and enticingly erotic. I can hear two breaths and two sets of soft sighs as I let my palms feel my way across their skin.

I open my eyes and meet Gortash's sleepy eyes watching me. My heart jumps up into my throat and I jolt into a sitting position. I turn to find Halsin on the other side—probably crawled onto the bed when he felt strong enough to move again.

"Shit," I mumble under my breath, quickly removing myself off the satin sheets.

"And it was just getting good," Gortash laments wistfully, a tone of amusement coloring his raspy voice.

"Seriously? Jokes?" I pull my robe tighter around my body, suddenly self-conscious about being completely naked under a thin layer of translucent fabric, and prop my hands against my hips. "Did you even realize you were groping me right next to my partner?"

"As I recall, you were enthusiastically groping me back, sweetheart," he smirks. "A few hours back you didn't mind making out in front of him."

I gape mutely at them both for a second.

"I was out of my mind!"

Halsin groggily drags himself off the bed and holds me close, patting my back comfortingly.

"I'm sorry," I hum into his chest.

"There is nothing to be sorry for, my heart." He kisses the top of my head.

I push away to look at him sternly. "Yes, there is. You've spent your whole night taking care of me at great cost to yourself and the first thing I do when I'm finally okay is this? Not even my mental state is an excuse. I only want to make you feel loved and safe, not uncomfortable and uncertain. I don't deserve you."

Instead of appreciating my commitment, albeit failed, I see pain flash in his eyes.

"Halsin?" I sniffle, my chest filling with dread. "Please don't leave me."

His expression melts into a touched one. He cups my face and smiles softly.

"I'm not going anywhere, I promise," he rasps. "Not until you decide otherwise, my love. You have nothing to fear. I will always be by your side, for as long as you'll have me."

I feel tears trickle down my face, the relief mixing into my terror tapping a generous stream.

"Now I'm sorry," he sighs, futilely trying to wipe my tears away with his fingers. "I misunderstood. I thought..."

He didn't have to explain. It didn't even come to mind at first, but I figured it out.

"You thought I would replace you with him?" I chuckle through the turmoil in my chest. "Not in a million years."

"Yes, don't mind me," Gortash growls and removes himself from the bed as well. His face looks like it's carved from stone, cold and hard. We both watch him as he locks himself in the next room, leaving us alone.

"I think you hurt his feelings," Halsin says quietly and I can hear commiseration in his voice. "He really is in love with you, sweet thing."

"Well, I'm not in love with him," I snap. "I don't want to have anything to do with him."

I'm still raw from the suffering Bhaal has inflicted on me, and the realization of just how much my heart has softened towards Gortash puts me on edge. The possibility of hurting Halsin through another bit of my unfortunate past just piles on top of that.

"Far be it from me to push you towards another man," he smirks, mild amusement creeping into his expression. "But I don't want you to limit yourself on my behalf, Nara. I thought you understood that I don't wish to own you." He takes my hands and kisses my knuckles. "If that is what you need, you are free to be with anyone else to any extent you deem necessary for your happiness. I only want you to be safe and happy by my side. That is my only goal."

I close my eyes and let him lean his forehead against mine.

"You know that's my goal too, right?" I mumble.

I can sense he doesn't believe my words—never have. But I haven't figured out why. I really mean it. He's the ray of sunshine in my bleak days. I want him to keep shining at all costs, even if I'm not the one basking in the beams.

"You deserve all the joy you can get, my heart," he whispers. "Do not make me the one to stand in your way. I will always wait for you to come back home to me."

I swallow a new wave of tears. "Then let's go right now."

"No," he sighs. "I will go. You seem to have unfinished business here. When you are ready, find me in camp. I believe you are safe here, at least for as long as you don't try to kill him first," he chuckles.

"I just might," I grouse. "He's playing a dangerous game here. I didn't think he'd be so bold to try to seduce me in front of you. Didn't he notice how big you are? Doesn't he think you'd rip him to pieces if he pisses you off?"

"I think he knows he has a chance." Halsin gives me a slightly patronizing glance, likely getting tired of my refusal to acknowledge my weakness. "Doesn't he?"

"I don't want to have anything to do with him," I repeat, but my voice falters.

He smiles, presses his face to mine and inhales deeply. "I can smell your arousal, little duck," he chastises softly, combing my hair with his fingers.

"That's for you, too," I frown, a little embarrassed, recalling the unexpectedly pleasant first moments of my morning.

"I know," he nods and this time I can tell he's certain. "But you two have history. Unless you explore this road, you might spend the rest of your life wondering 'what if'... I don't want that for you. I don't want that for myself. Whatever you do, I would like you to be sure that you're not missing out on something. I will be here if you decide to come back to me."

I have no more to say. I let him press a kiss to my lips and watch him exit the room. I don't follow. I keep standing where he left me, hugging my shoulders.

"I can't believe you actually stayed."

I whip around to find Gortash in the doorframe, dressed and tidied up, shaved and smelling fresh. He's leaning on the doorframe and though his face is still grim, his swagger doesn't seem to have suffered irreparable damage.

"Don't congratulate yourself just yet, Enver," I sneer.

"Oh, don't be crabby, baby," he purses his lips in mock comfort. "You landed such a perfect boyfriend. I'm jealous, now I want one, too. Hurry up and break his soft heart—maybe he'll be interested in me instead."

"I'm not breaking his heart," I spit. "I love him."

That sentence makes him wince, but he recovers in record time, smirking like the bad boy he is.

"Then maybe I'll break it for you. When he's no longer there to enable you, will you run back into my arms?"

I don't realize I'm moving before I have his stupid tall collar bunched up in a fist, pushing him against the door. I bare my teeth, my nose a hair's-width away from his. My tortured muscles protest against such treatment, but the rush of adrenaline outvotes them.

"Touch him and I'll kill you," I hiss into his face. "Stone or no stone."

The initial flash of surprise, even fear, is quickly replaced with a seductive smile.

"Gods, I missed this fire," he grunts, grabbing my waist and pulling me flush to his body. "Too bad your devotion belongs to another now."

I tear from his grasp, gritting my teeth so hard they squeak. I don't know what else to do; hurting him only gave him twisted pleasure. So I stomp off to the bathroom, looking for my things, so I can leave this cursed place already.

06 Payback is a bitch.

I dress up in my clothes that feel like they've been freshly cleaned and pressed, and complete my morning routine with the conveniently offered supplies left in the bathroom for me. As I put on my gauntlet I have to stop and lean against the sink. My thoughts are spiraling.

Remembering all that I've done since I arrived at this tower is making me hyperventilate. Gods, I really did nearly jump Gortash's bones. My reason was clearly damaged, but... Gathering my wits didn't erase the desire. I still want him. I hate everything he stands for... but I can barely resist him.

I stare into my scarred face in the mirror, hoping to understand my own mind. Even if I really used to love him in the past doesn't mean I should now. It physically hurts me to imagine Karlach's probable response to that. And Wyll's. And everyone's, really. Apart from some of my companions who would prefer to take control of the Brain, or even to actually team up with the Tyrant's Chosen, none would approve.

"Oh, fuck me," I mumble.

I close my eyes for a few long seconds, trying to get a hold of myself. It doesn't help; my mind is serving me memories of Gortash's gentle, respectful touch, in blinding contrast to what I thought I knew about him. How does that happen? Was he just that good at playing me? Or was it genuine?

Poor Halsin. Perhaps the thing that scares me most is his disapproval. Would he stay by my side if I succumbed to my twisted desires? Would he be open to sharing me with a man who doesn't care who he abuses as long as it serves his power-hungry agenda? Even he must have a limit to what he's willing to tolerate.

I slam my hand against the mirror and growl. I feel like I'm being split in two. One part will not let go of the beautiful, peaceful vision of what life can be with Halsin. The other... the darkness in me, one that has nothing to do with the Urge, craves to be nourished, to be recognized and utilized, to be accepted.

Can I have both? Or is that just a mad hope of a lobotomized freak?

I need to get out of here, now.

I rush out of the room, then into the Audience hall. I'm hoping it's deserted and no one will notice me leaving, but Gortash is once again comfortably seated on the throne, his alert eyes on me the second I come into his field of vision. I slump my shoulders and frown, turning to him.

"Hey, look," I choose a neutral tone, nonchalantly hooking thumbs in my pockets, "I gotta go. We have lots to do in the city. There's a vamp that begs to be staked, a pregnant hag on the loose, and also Orin's not gonna kill herself."

"Ah, yes," Gortash drawls, getting up and slowly sauntering towards me. "You're very busy. The slayer of Ketheric Thorm. The hero who's lifted the Shadow Curse. Pretty impressive."

I purse my lips, glaring at him. Of course he figured out it was us who exchanged his planned article in Baldur's Mouth for a puff piece on us.

"Yeah, it would be a shame if we were slandered instead of celebrated, don't you think?" I nip sarcastically.

"Why do you think I made you come here, my dear," he tosses me a sour grin. "You get in my way, I get in yours. You'd do best to remember that."

I roll my eyes, folding my arms over my chest. I actually considered thanking him for what he'd done for me tonight, but I'm not in the mood to do that anymore.

"Yeah, yeah. If you're done threatening me, mind letting me go? Like I said, lots to do. You want the netherstone, or not?"

Gortash stops maybe an inch from me and leans in to whisper in my ear: "You're not a prisoner here, sweetheart."

A powerful shiver runs through me, so strong I can't possibly hide it. His gaze slides down my body and lips twist in a delighted, sinful smirk. My breath hitches at the sight of him and his scent makes my throat go dry.

He pulls back to a little more respectful distance. "But I thought you might want to have that brunch on the balcony I planned for us yesterday. Don't worry," he chuckles, "I had my cook make us fresh food—birds seem to have eaten the last batch, anyway." His gaze lingers on my eyes, gauging my thoughts. "It's sunny outside. I want to sit with you, talk and enjoy the view from this tower."

Still reeling from the mind boggling reaction I'm having to his closeness, I swallow hard. 'What's the worst that can happen' isn't even a question here. I know what can happen. I know what my body, my own treacherous body, wants to happen. But maybe... just maybe... if I spend more casual time in his presence, this assault of hormones will stop.

After all, there's nothing more off-putting than really getting to know the horrible man you're attracted to. Could be just what I need to get over him.

07 What's the worst that can happen?

I let him lead me onto the balcony. Any thoughts get knocked out of me as soon as I lean over the stone wall and stare at the city stretching below us.

I've only spent two weeks here since we arrived, and from up-close it never quite seemed as grand as people tend to describe it. It's big and loud and overcrowded and smelly... But it seems gorgeous from this high above. No wonder Gortash wants to settle up here permanently.

I don't appreciate the thick atmosphere of this place. I miss the clean waters and animal white noise of the picturesque location the nautiloid crashed in. Even the Underdark is breathtaking in its menacing way.

This doesn't feel like home anymore. It's familiar, but I'm a different person.

Much like what I could say about Gortash. The fact that we used to be a thing shouldn't mean that we have to be it again.

I have so many questions it feels like a chunk of anxiety is balled up inside me—I don't even know what to ask specifically, I just know I need a lot of answers. I want to understand what happened between us and how. And how can a man so callous, so cruel to everything else be so gentle and sweet with me.

I have to know what game he's playing. Is he hoping to weaken me? Stab me in the back as soon as I kill Orin and take both the netherstones off my cooling flesh? Was any of what he showed me real?

"Heavy thoughts, Talas?"

I sigh and turn away from the view to see him comfortably sprawled on an actual rug stretched over the stone floor.

"Couldn't get a blankie?" I quip, shaking my head. "Your ass get too soft?"

"Well, since I don't have to live rough anymore, I just don't do it," he chuckles, tapping a spot next to him. "Come have some comfort, too. I imagine you're not used to it anymore, being on the road for so long."

"I think I pretty much forgot what comfort felt like when that Myrkulite bitch of a torturer got a hold of me," I say dryly as I make my way to the picnic. I immediately see the change in his expression and his fists clenching.

I sit down and stretch my legs in front of me. "Do all your Absolute lackeys respect you this much, or was she special?"

"That's still under investigation," he growls darkly. An image of his most loyal soldiers beating information out of the slightly less loyal soldiers crosses my mind. "The nerve on her. The nerve on Ketheric. He should've told me."

"I guess plotting to take over the world doesn't make for the best bonding time," I smirk, picking up a chalice of wine.

"True," he nods, deciding to wash his rage down with some wine as well. "This is not a circle of trust. I even had to kill a number of my own for being too ambitious. Mostly when they tried to assassinate me to take my place. Or get to me through you."

"Hm," I grimace, not ready to believe I was so important to him that he wouldn't sacrifice me in a blink of an eye if it brought him enough reward. "How do you know I won't kill you? Bhaal sounded pretty determined. He'll try again. You might not get so lucky this time."

"He won't. Not until you get rid of Orin."

I raise my eyebrows at him and toss a few grapes in my mouth. "How would you know?"

Gortash pauses, looking away, squinting at the sky.

"Last night I told her what was happening, got her properly pissed off. I promised you would come to her, which is what you want, anyway. She went to talk to him, to convince him she's capable of defeating you. I hoped she had the pull—and it looks like she does, because it worked. Bhaal wants you to ritually combat her at the Temple just a smidge more than he wants me dead—and can always make either of you do it later."

He says it in such a matter-of-fact tone as if he didn't just confess to virtually saving my life. I gape at him mutely, wine forgotten half-way to my lips.

"Well," I chuckle in disbelief, "I'm stunned that you didn't brag about it immediately."

"I knew you would see it as bragging, no matter when I told you," he rolls his eyes, chugging his wine. "So I wasn't going to. Until you asked."

I shrug and nod, admitting that's true. I'm always ready to believe the worst of him. Just in case.

"But you should know." He turns to me, face serious, gaze intense. He takes my hand and squeezes. "When Orin is dead, he will sic you on me. It won't matter what you feel or what your agenda is. This time he'll have no reason to relent, he will have one of us dead."

He sighs and tucks a loose strand of my hair behind my ear with the same tenderness I tasted last night. His eyes are warm and gentle.

"If nothing else works... I will let you kill me," he whispers and my breath catches in my throat. "Which is why I suggest you keep your word and we finish our plan together. If we're successful, we might have enough power to keep him away from us."

I watch his hair flow in the breeze around his face. He lets go of my hands and looks to the sky again, as if the endlessness of it helped him feel like he has more options, more freedom.

"So, at the least, we have until you kill her."

His voice is so heavy, raspy, wistful, I shiver again. He doesn't even suggest that we actually stay together or anything... he's just contemplating the near future, counting down days until he might not see me again. Or live.

"You would just let me kill you?" I ask, suddenly reminded of Halsin's similar question from last night. Gortash brushed it off then and I was too busy trying to survive, but it hits differently now.

I see his throat jump as he gulps. He seems to mull over his answer. Then squeezes his eyes shut.

"I began hatching the Absolute plan for my sake only. I wanted power and control. But then you came..." He flashes me a glance, almost shy. "And things changed. So slowly I didn't even notice at first. But I started to work towards a different goal. I wanted to make this work for us. Make the world the perfect place for us to be happy in. To do whatever we want, to have all the comforts, all the fun."

He pauses for a long time. I'm wracking my brain to try to remember something, anything, so that I could confirm his words, but the memory of him is still as incorporeal as before.

Before I figure out how to react, he speaks up again:

"I didn't know how differently it could end," he rasps and I'm in shock to notice his eyes getting somewhat wet. "How someone could hate me, hate you, so much that they would tear us apart and destroy everything." This time he looks at me steadily, though I can see how much effort it takes him to not let his sight run away again. "I love you, Talas. We were having so much fun I hadn't realized it... until I lost you."

I rapidly blink in utter bewilderment. My heart squeezes hard. I feel tears fighting their way out of my eyes. I can taste bitterness in the back of my throat. As if the only thing I could remember about our past is how heartbreaking it was to be separated from him like this.

And I realize that I believe him. It makes sense. Bhaal's ultimatum revealed one thing: this murder was personal to him. I really must have been in love with Gortash before my disappearance. Enough to make the Lord of Murder feel threatened and want our bond broken.

And I'm beginning to see why—to see past my initial impression of him, past his flaws and sins. It makes me scared. What happens if I give in to it, even if just for a little while?

But just how much time to decide do I really have?

08 Innocence of a guilty man.

Turns out, I don't need much time at all.

Gortash's confession was so raw it's impossible for me to stop thinking about it. He's quiet as we eat our breakfast, and so am I, but my head is buzzing. The alcohol doesn't help hold my walls up, but I don't think being sober would save me now.

'We only have until you kill Orin.'

That could be mere days. We've only just arrived, but already met her more than once—sniffing around, gauging our weaknesses, snickering maniacally and giving us the creeps. If we don't strike first, she will. Not to mention the ticking clock that was the tadpole wriggling in my head, threatening to turn me into a tentacled monster the second the Brain breaks free of Gortash's and Orin's control. We are all screwed if we don't find her soon.

My mind ambushes me with slightly fuzzy memories of last night. The way Gortash washed me, the way he carried me to the bed like royalty, the way he cared. I don't have to run away and marry him in secret to enjoy him. I don't have to make any promises at all.

I can just have him one last time. Whatever happens next.

"Well," I peep, nervous about what I'm going to do, "since we're full, alone and have the time... maybe we can... uhm."

Gods, I'm awful at flirting. I'm so lucky Halsin decided to approach me first. We would still be hungrily circling each other if he hasn't.

To my utter dismay and embarrassment, Gortash laughs out loud. "You haven't improved one bit," he shakes his head.

"Shut up," I grunt, trying to hide in my hair.

He props himself on one elbow, reaching for my jaw, caressing me and pulling me down to him for a kiss.

"Your best line so far was 'I would love to carve you up real slow,'" he smirks, coaxing me to look up. "Fortunately, that worked like a charm on me."

My brow crinkles and I burst into vivacious laughter. It makes me feel better, more at ease. I guess I didn't change that much.

"Gods, it's been forever since the last time I heard that laughter," Gortash sighs, stricken.

He attacks my mouth voraciously, making me gasp into the kiss.

It's different than before. It's not libido that drives him this time. There's pain behind the layers of need. Pain of long separation, of deep grief, of lost hope, of impending death. He's virtually inhaling me, as if he would love nothing more than to blend into me.

I feel dizzy and compelled to return the kiss with the same intensity, even though I'm running out of breath. I don't want to hold back anymore. What good would it do me to fight my feelings when this is the last time I get to have him.

His skin is much smoother after the morning shave, but I can still feel the faint remnants of stubble gently scratching me. I run my fingers all over his face, trying to imprint every shape of him into my damaged brain. I come across the scar on his chin and the sensation feels more familiar than ever. I know I've touched this scar before.

His hand copies my movements, tracing my scars. They must be new to him; Orin left them on me when she tried to kill me. He remembers my face when it was still flawless, yet his fingers are feeling my new imperfections with reverence.

"Bleed that bitch slowly," he rasps against my skin. "Savor the kill. You deserve a sweet revenge for this."

"I wish I could do the same to Bhaal," I reply breathily.

"So do I, my love. So do I." He pulls away a little, skin flushed, eyes misty. "Let's go inside. It's chilly here, you might catch a cold."

I squeeze my eyes shut, half wanting to laugh, half crying. I feel him get onto his feet and the next thing I know I'm in his arms, carried like a princess once more. I hug his shoulders and hide in his neck, nibbling hungrily, making his breath catch as he's walking towards his study, gait a bit wobbly.

My legs are weak too—I nearly buckle as he puts me down by the bed. I steady myself holding onto him, while he's doing his best to keep my armor and clothes intact as he's pulling them off my body in ragged, desperate moves.

He pauses with his hands hovering over my offered gauntlet.

"What?" I wonder. "Think you won't be able to enjoy it without me hurting you?"

He tilts his head, squinting in the distance. "I don't think we've ever tried that."

"Just take it off," I say and put his fingers on my wrist. "If it's not enough, I can always use my nails."

"To be honest," he raises his eyebrows pensively, "I don't think I even care. I just want to be with you."

He shakes the metal off my hand and tosses it to the floor. Then his eyes find his own, with the glowing netherstone adorning it.

"I promise I won't steal it," I chuckle. "At least not until I have Orin's."

He doesn't seem to appreciate my teasing. He takes the gauntlet off, but quickly puts it in a small, sturdy looking metal box and locks it inside.

I roll my eyes. "Still don't trust me, Enver? Did I use to fuck people just to get their precious stuff and favors? I thought that was more your style."

"Just a precaution against whomever else might be sneaking through the tower," Gortash smirks and returns to me. "You weren't even interested in fucking until you met me," he touches my face. "Granted, you didn't have many eligible choices around you, with your father keeping you in dark tombs among abominations. But I taught you everything, little lover."

My breath hitches a little at the realization, but I gulp the shock down.

"Well, then I guess I'm glad you've been sleeping around with so many of your noble conquests. Would hate to be taught by someone inexperienced."

He laughs with his eyes shut, then sighs and pulls me into his embrace.

"Oh, Talas, don't be jealous. There's no need to drag nobles into my bed anymore. I did try to drown my grief in a few... but it never helped. You were my first in months."

I blink at him, stunned by his words yet again. "Explains why you looked like you hadn't bathed in weeks at your inauguration." I swallow hard, distressingly aware of his enticing scent now.

"I've let myself go a little, yeah," he admits with an amused grin. "My company didn't mind. I thought Ketheric smelled like death, but then I met Orin." I snort and he joins me. "That faint stench of rotting flesh makes me want to gag. You, though..."

He buries his nose in the crook of my neck, pulling off his clothes. "You." He inhales a lungful of me, groaning. I shiver, closing my eyes, running my fingers through his hair. "The sweetest thing I've ever tasted."

I yelp as he suddenly picks me up and lets us both collapse onto the bed. Our limbs tangle, skin grazing skin, our mouths lock in a thirsty dance of tongues. It's a strange feeling, like being with him for the first time, even though it's far from it. I'm not fighting him, not resisting unwelcome desires, not trying to pretend this isn't what I want... I give myself to him willingly and eagerly.

09 Your fingerprints all over me.

He pulls us higher and flips us over, so he could lean on the head of the frame with me on top. The unexpected exposure makes me flinch. I'm still getting used to showing all of myself even to Halsin, and this... I haven't had time to decide how to feel about it. But the way he watches me makes me shudder. His gaze worships every inch of me, his fingers following closely after. So I lean into his touch and close my eyes, letting my mind rest in the soft waves of pleasure.

"How are you even more breathtaking than before," Gortash whispers so quietly I'm not sure he even meant to be heard.

I look down at him, using the rapidly depleting brain capacity to study his face some more. I didn't think he was capable of such adoration. I'm trying to hold onto my healthy doubts for the sake of everyone who's put their trust in me, but it's getting truly difficult.

So I choose to focus on the rest of him instead. On how he makes me feel.

I let my hands wander over his body, enjoying the inexplicable electric sensation of touching his deliciously mocha skin. Making him shiver as I run through the fine hair on his chest he so likes to show off. His muscles are defined just the right amount, well hydrated and comfortably soft. The little love handle on his tummy makes my mouth water and my hips grind against him wantonly.

He groans and grabs me by the nape to pull me into a ravaging kiss. I lift off his lap just enough to help him slip inside me. I cry out softly, unable to hold back the sweet tears of ecstasy.

My needy mouth devours him. He holds my hip in a firm grip to help me ride him. The fingers of his free hand dig into my back, desperately pressing me to his chest, but the hurt they cause isn't physical. I don't want to look into his eyes, I know they will bewitch me.

But I fail and let his gaze swallow my soul.

I can't focus on kissing him anymore. I just lay my forehead on his shoulder and keep rolling my hips. I feel the crushing orgasm closing in when he rakes my hair and starts murmuring in my ear:

"I love you, Talas. I love you."

I let out a sob as it hits me like a wall. I'm not screaming or moaning—I'm crying. My heart is breaking, my soul is splitting... Yet, in the midst of my torment, there's mind boggling ecstasy shooting through my body like lightning.

He caresses my back, letting me ride out the last of the tremors, while I latch onto his mouth again, mixing his intoxicating taste with the salt of my tears. He doesn't seem bothered, drinking my inexplicable sorrow eagerly, thirstily.

I collapse onto his warm chest and keep softly sobbing into his flesh.

I remember now.

"Are you alright?"

I don't respond for a long while. I just keep slowly rolling my hips, not letting him stop making love to me. He listens to my intentional body language, running his fingers gently all over my skin, and lets me deal with it in peace before I'm ready to speak up.

"I love you too, Enver."

The leftover reason in my brain gags its mouth in horror. But I know that it's true. It's been true the whole time, I just didn't know, being stripped of all my memories of him.

The memories didn't return per se. Only feelings. I was a drooling mess, and still my heart yearned for something I lost. Someone I lost. I doubt I could even recall his name or his face... but I knew I needed him.

"Please," I sniffle, finally dragging myself up to look at him. "Make me forget how I know this. It hurts."

That strange sucking feeling in the center of my chest suddenly makes sense now. I've had it since the crash. My head was empty, but my heart ached for him.

"Talas," he whispers, cradling my head. I watch his eyes well up like mine.

I kiss him, letting him tangle his fingers in my hair. He presses my face closer to his and drowns in my mouth. When we're out of breath, he leaves my lips to travel up to my cheeks and eyes, kissing away every tear.

He wraps me in his arms and smoothly rolls us over, pressing my back into the red satin sheets. He holds my hands above my head and I expect him to get rough—I wouldn't mind having this gnawing emotional anguish knocked out of me with a delicious pounding I know he's keen to inflict.

But his fingers lace with mine and his eyes watch me with tenderness I didn't think he was capable of. He's not done fighting for me.

And I'm not done being loved by him.

I hold his gaze, studying the specs of color in his irises. I let out soft moans as he languidly moves inside me and kisses my mouth without breaking eye contact. And when my body begins buzzing, building up to another mind-shattering climax, I whisper his name. The first one slips from my lips accidentally, but as my mind clouds I get bolder. When my body spasms and my toes curl, I scream it over and over in between waves of ecstasy.

His gaze never wavers—up until his own finish catches him unprepared, drawing a surprised, tender whimper out of him. His body quivers, uncontrollably shooting hot seed inside of me as he holds me close, encasing me in his arms like something fragile and precious, moaning my name into my ear.

Mind blank, I just lay, limbs wrapped around him, not willing to let go. We stay like this, gently caressing each other, panting, cooling off. It's not until we start getting uncomfortable that we're finally forced to let go.

"How would you feel about having a bath together again?" Gortash suggests, his roguish smirk gracing his lips once more.

I'm all sweaty and sticky and full of his load, so I nod.

I don't want to leave just yet. Going back into the real world means being faced with responsibilities and morality. It means remembering what a menace this man is to the city. It means considering losing him forever if he decides to stand in our way. I'm not ready for that. Not after I had an emotional charge the size of an extinction-level catastrophic event go off in my chest just minutes ago.

10 One last chance.

Gortash fills the tub with hot water and takes me by the hand. But it seems like I'm not quite ready for this, either.

Come on. It's just a bathtub. The only place that's actually filled with horrors is your own head.

And I recall all the tenderness and care that happened around it, as well. Two diametrically different men doting on me, sacrificing their strength and favors for me. The thought further eats away at the walls of my poor heart.

"Need some help?" Gortash glances at me, evidently understanding my hesitation. His arm snakes around my waist and he kisses my temple. "Come on. I'll be in there with you. Promise not to tie you up this time—unless you want me to," he chuckles into my hair.

I snort and relax a little. There was really nothing to be afraid of; Bhaal was taken care of for now, there was no reason for my Urge to come out this soon. But my legs won't work.

"Yeah, I do need help," I sigh, draping myself over his shoulders.

He tosses me a wicked grin and picks me up. "You're getting used to this fast."

"It's a nice thing to get used to," I shrug innocently.

"You know you got heavy?"

"Maybe you got out of shape," I narrow my eyes at him, then we both laugh.

I almost don't notice how he submerges both of us in the pleasantly hot water. My heart thrums in my throat for a bit, but then Gortash starts rubbing my neck and shoulders, massaging the tension out of them. I let him do it for a while, then close my eyes and lay my head in the crook of his neck.

"Thanks for saving my life last night," I mumble and I really mean it. "I was ready to beg Halsin to mercifully end me. Wait, no, I did actually beg."

I feel his palm run along the side of my face, then his fingers combing my hair back in soothing motions. "It's the least I could do after putting you in danger. I'm so sorry, Talas."

"It wasn't your fault," I sigh. I know what he means, but... when two people fall in love, neither of them should be held responsible for the disproportional reaction of their relatives.

"I still can't believe how close you were this whole time," he rasps and I his hands ball into fists. "Bloody Ketheric. What a low, petty revenge for making him feel uncomfortable and redundant during our Absolute meetings."

I snort. "How were we getting on his nerves so much?"

I feel his chuckle reverberate into me through my back. "You used to like sitting on my lap and making out while he was speaking. And whenever you spaced out during discussions, or simply didn't have an opinion, you would always back me up, not even listening to his arguments."

"Oh," I grimace. "We were very dismissive of him. I'm not surprised he felt affronted."

"Oh, Talas." I hear exasperation in his voice. "He kept you in his dungeon as a toy for his deranged 'scientist' and let me believe you were dead. He deserved to get his tongue ripped out and be beaten to death with it. Would you really just forgive him?"

"I'm kidding," I turn to him, eyes still closed, and plant a kiss on his chin. "I hate his fucking guts. I'm just sad I wasn't able to make his death proper fun."

"There she is, my Bhaal-babe."

"We've met all of his children," I growl. "All cursed and deranged, almost begging to be put out of their misery. The man couldn't give two fucks about any of them, beside precious Isobel he raised from the dead in exchange for their lives, with thousands of innocent souls on top. He didn't deserve redemption and he knew it."

There's a long pause and I can feel Gortash tensing up.

"Do I?"

That knocks the breath out of my lungs. My eyes open wide, but I only stare into the distance.

Why would he even ask that? He didn't seem remorseful of his many, many sins. He looked straight in Karlach's face and looked pleased with himself. He tadpoled Wyll's father and shipped him who-knows-where the minute he got him to surrender his title. He subjugated a whole city and prepared to wage a fake war on it, just so he could pronounce himself its savior.

And those were only the deeds we knew about so far.

"Do you think you deserve it?" I deflect the question back at him, unsure how to respond. Suddenly I'm aware of how naked and defenseless I am in his presence again.

"Shh," he rubs my arms, noticing my discomfort. "I didn't mean to make you bristle up. In the end, Ketheric was left with no one who supported him out of their own free will. I know how depressing that is—I was in the same position before you returned. There's a big difference between doing things because you know you're alone against the world, and doing things for someone you love."

I scoff. "Well, if that's how you operate, how about you give me the stone and help me clean up this mess? Because that's the only way this," I gesture between him and myself, "is going anywhere. You know that what we just did doesn't really change anything between us, right?"

I can see the hurt in his eyes—but no surprise. He knows. He's just probing for another option. Or trying to manipulate me. Whichever.

He decides to abandon the topic. "We've never done it like this before," he studies my face. "You changed so much."

"Enver," I sigh, feeling almost bad for him. "How do you still want me back, when I'm not even the woman you remember?"

Silence. He evades my gaze, watching the sunlight behind the tall stained glass windows. He doesn't seem to understand it himself.

"I guess you've given my life more meaning than anything I've ever done before."

My heart and eyelids flutter, touched more deeply than I was willing to admit.

I know what that feels like. I could've let my Urge dictate my path, succumb to the thirst for blood and death, do what I knew to do best. Instead, I've found myself in people around me, people of varying degrees of 'good' who sometimes struggle as much as I do.

I've found purpose in keeping them alive. In helping them denounce their gods, avenge their traumas, fix their mistakes, save what's important to them. In loving them as much as they've grown to love me. They healed me in ways medicine and magic could never have done on their own.

They saved me, and now I would rather choose death than let a bloodthirsty god take control over my life again.

Perhaps Gortash would do the same...?

I don't dare to guess. Not until I see the change with my own eyes, in action, when I present the choice to him with Orin's netherstone in hand.

Because I've just decided that I will do just that. Despite everything he's done, everything that deserved grave, and likely final, punishment, I will allow him one last chance to do better.

Thank you for reading ♥

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[yourlocaldisneyvillain]

...the unholy flames of ♥kink!week♥ burn brightly...

(don't know what kink week is? click here!)

‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

∼ the ice is broken, and we have stepped foot into the unholy week -- what sort of sin awaits us today? ∼

∼ day two brings us our beloved knight ♥ Brienne of Tarth ♥ ∼

∼ tags and the fic are under the cut ∼

♥ i've worked very hard on this series — it was a huge project to undertake and i would very much appreciate if you left me comments with your thoughts and impressions — you already know they make my heart sing ♥ (AO3 link — i prefer it to tumblr vastly)

‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

tags: #lactation #lactation kink #erotic lactation #breastfeeding #hurt/comfort #lesbian sex #thigh riding #kissing #comfort #nightmares #feeding #veguely implied somnophilia but it's purposefully left unclear #kink!week

sweet dreams (clicking on the title will lead you to ao3)

Brienne manages to win the fight — but after she gives the last one of her attackers a final blow, making him fall onto the ground, blood seeping from his chest, she suddenly feels weak and dizzy. 

Nauseous, she collapses, falling onto her knees. She’s vaguely aware she’s wounded, but she can’t discern where or how much. She feels pain — a distant throbbing in her arm. There is something red in her peripheral vision. Blood? She can’t see. 

The world goes black.

‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

When she regains consciousness, she isn’t in the woods anymore. The surface underneath her is soft and dry. She opens her eyes. Above her is a wooden roof with thick beams. 

“Ah, you’re finally awake,” a feminine voice says. Brienne startles — winces, and then immediately hisses in pain — but she manages to turn her head to the side. 

Next to her, sitting on a little wooden chair, is a young woman that seems to be around Brienne’s age — but that’s about where the similarities end. The girl is very pretty — she has beautiful glowing skin, big brown eyes, thick dark eyebrows and hair, her lips are rosy and plump, and she’s all soft, womanly curves. 

She smiles at Brienne, putting the sewing work— or perhaps leatherwork? — she’s been working on. “You should take it easy. It’ll take some time for the wounds to heal.”

“Wounds?” Brienne says stupidly.

“Your arm and your chest — but you’ll be alright. I took care of them and cleaned them. They’re healing just fine.”

“Who are you?” Brienne asks. “And where am I?”

“I’m Rosie,” she answers and smiles again. 

Brienne can’t help but notice how lovely the girl looks — her teeth are healthy and white, her cheeks are flushed a pretty pink and her eyes have the most charming glint in them — especially when she smiles. 

“And I know who you are, Brienne of Tarth.”

Brienne says nothing. She feels fuzzy again. She can’t tell if she’s about to lose consciousness or fall asleep. She fights it, trying to blink the drowsiness away. 

“You saved our village from those crooks. They dwelled in the surrounding forest and kept us living in fear — robbing us, attacking women from the village, preventing us from living normal lives. I wasn’t allowed to do anything for months. Not that I could do much, really. I had a child just recently — but I would’ve liked to take a walk.”

Brienne is only half-aware of what the girl is telling her. She has a lovely voice, Brienne thinks, drifting in an out of consciousness. 

“My father found you, and we brought you here. I’ve gotten the task of taking care of you. I took it very seriously, you know. I love taking care of people.”

Brienne mumbles a ‘thank you,’ tries to form a coherent sentence, but her eyes are too heavy. 

“Aw, you poor thing,” Rosie says. “Sleep now, sweet Brienne. I’ll be here when you wake.”

Brienne sleeps.

‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

Rosie is there when Brienne wakes up from a nightmare. She remembers blood and pain and death, but not much else.

“How long have I slept?” she asks. “I must go.”

She knows she was in the woods for a reason, but she’s so drowsy, so sleepy — she can’t really remember the details. She’s still shaky from her nightmare.

“You can’t go anywhere, silly — not for another couple of days. You’ll lose consciousness on the road and hit your head somewhere.”

Brienne whines and protests, but she knows she couldn’t get up even if she wanted to. 

“We brought you here yesterday, and you slept most of the day. Today you woke up early in the morning. It’s afternoon now.”

Brienne nods in acknowledgement. “Thank you,” she says, finally letting herself relax into the bed, admitting to herself she can’t go anywhere just yet. “You’re very kind to me.”

“Oh, nonsense — you saved our village! Here, I have some porridge for you. Let me help you sit up.”

She sits Brienne up, and Brienne hisses and winces in pain. She notices she isn’t wearing her own clothes — instead she has a men’s undershirt on. 

“Your underthings were stained with blood. I washed them, but until they dry I don’t have anything else you’d fit in but my brother’s clothes. I hope you don’t mind,” Rosie says apologetically. She brushes Brienne’s hair from her forehead, and for some reason Brienne feels herself blush. Rosie’s touch is firm, but gentle. Brienne feels very safe with her.

“Here,” Rosie says, and Brienne realises the girl intends to feed her the porridge like a child. 

“I can eat by myself,” she says, but Rosie will have none of it.

“Nonsense. Open your mouth.”

Brienne doesn’t have it in her to argue, so she does as she’s told. 

“Good girl,” Rosie says, and Brienne blushes profusely. Nobody’s ever called her that. It feels… nice — like she’s done something good.

Rosie doesn’t comment on Brienne’s blushing cheeks, and instead feeds her porridge in silence. 

It’s rather nice to be taken care of, Brienne thinks as she swallows a spoonful of porridge, I shouldn’t get used to it. She can’t remember the last time somebody treated her with this much care — and a stranger, at that. 

“Did you have a nightmare?” Rosie asks as she feeds her.

“Why do you ask?”

Rosie brings the spoon to Brienne’s lips. “You were frowning in your sleep and saying things.”

“What did I say?” she asks and takes the spoon into her mouth.

“I didn’t get most of it. I just heard ���no” and such. Do you have nightmares often?”

“Most nights,” Brienne says with her mouth full. “I’m used to it.”

Rosie says nothing further. 

After Brienne’s done eating, Rosie briefly disappears from the room to put away the empty bowl. Just as Brienne feels her limbs start to grow heavy with sleep, she returns. 

“Am I taking up someone’s bed? I don’t want to inconvenience you.”

“Nonsense,” says Rosie. “This is my bed.”

“And where is your husband?” Brienne asks, remembering Rosie has a child.

“Oh, he’s in the navy. He’s gone for months sometimes. I just take care of little Robbie, nurse him and such. I’ve little else to do. He’s such a good baby — he either feeds or sleeps. And my mother helps me when I need. Oh, and my father told me that he wants to speak to you — to thank you properly, when you feel better. But I don’t think you’re better quite yet — maybe tomorrow,” she muses.

Brienne has a feeling Rosie is the type of girl who knows how to get her way. She doesn’t mind — she fine doing as she’s told. She’s so very sleepy, anyway. 

“Here, have some water,” Rosie says and brings a cup sitting on the stool next to the bed to Brienne’s lips. Brienne realises she’s thirstier than she thought — she drinks most of the water from the cup. She feels a bit weird, being babied like this — but she doesn’t mind. It’s nice to be pampered for a change. 

“I really admire you, you know,” Rosie says, sitting down on the bed. “I think you’re so very brave. I could never do what you do.”

“You wouldn’t like what I do,” Brienne murmurs sleepily.

“No, I don’t think I would,” Rosie says, and shifts closer to Brienne. “You have really pretty eyes.”

“Yours are much prettier than mine,” Brienne replies. 

Rosie is right above her face, leaning over her. She looks at Rosie’s big, warm, brown eyes. Her stomach feels funny when Rosie’s this close to her — tingly somehow.

“Blue eyes are much rarer,” Rosie says. 

Brienne doesn’t have a response to that — Rosie won the argument. She smiles at Brienne, and Brienne feels fuzzy again, but… different fuzzy than before — she can’t quite place it. 

“When I first saw you, I thought you were a man,” Rosie says. Brienne isn’t surprised. “But I’m glad you aren’t.”

“Why?” 

Brienne softly gasps when their noses touch. She didn’t realise Rosie was that close.

“I don’t know,” Rosie says. She kisses Brienne’s cheek. Brienne’s skin tingles where Rosie’s soft lips touched it. She feels warm and fuzzy and sleepy. She wonders if she’s dreaming.

“I want to take care of you,” Rosie says. Brienne loves the feeling of Rosie’s warm breath on her cheek.

“People don’t take care of me,” she murmurs, her mind blurry with sleep. “Am I dreaming?” 

“Perhaps,” Rosie says and caresses her cheek and her neck. Her hands are soft and warm. Brienne wants her closer. “I don’t want you to have another nightmare.”

Brienne sleepily watches Rosie loosen her corset in the front and untie her shirt, pushing it aside. Her breasts spill out of the garment. They look soft and heavy — Brienne is mesmerised by them. She looks at the light pink nipples. They’re leaking milk. Her mouth waters.

Rosie pushes her breasts towards Brienne’s face. Brienne feels her cheeks grow hot. She’s in that delicious, not quite awake state — drifting on the edge of sleep. Her body and her mind feel heavy and fuzzy and warm. 

“This will calm you down,” Rosie says. “You won’t have nightmares anymore — not while I’m here.”

She takes her breast and gently presses it to Brienne’s lips. If Brienne were more awake, she’d question this more — but in her current state she only feels slight confusion which is quickly overridden by a pleasant, tingly feeling in her abdomen. 

She takes the rosy nipple into her mouth. “Suck,” Rosie says, and Brienne sucks. 

Rosie’s milk tastes sweet. Sweet, just like Rosie, is the only thought in Brienne’s mind. She loves the feeling of the soft, heavy breast pressing onto her face. She sucks, and her cheeks are hot, and she feels a bit embarrassed, but she doesn’t stop. She’s unsure whether she’s dreaming or awake.

Rosie cradles her head with one hand and with the other she caresses Brienne’s chest — gently, feather-light. Brienne’s skin tingles. She gets goosebumps all over her torso and arms.

Rosie’s hand ventures lower, slips underneath her shirt, traces patterns on Brienne’s stomach. Brienne softly whimpers when Rosie runs her fingers over her pubic hair. 

“Just suck,” Rosie says, her voice breathy, and Brienne feels hot all over. She does as she’s told, and continues to drink Rosie’s sweet, creamy milk. A coil starts building in her belly as Rosie runs her fingers over the wet folds between her legs, circles the hard bud there. She feels Rosie’s wetness on her thigh as Rosie starts grinding on it, hot and slick, and she hears Rosie’s soft, sweet moans of pleasure — or perhaps those are her own. She sucks on Rosie’s hard nipple, heavy breast pressing on her lips, and the coil in her belly grows tighter and tighter until it finally snaps and Brienne cries lets out a muffled cry. Rosie grinds harder on her thigh before crying out as well and falling forwards, pushing her breasts into Brienne’s face.  

Rosie gently removes her breast from Brienne’s mouth and then kisses Brienne’s wet lips — slowly and with curiosity. Brienne kisses back. She loves how soft and plump Rosie’s lips are. Rosie licks Brienne’s lower lip and places a chaste, soft kiss on the corner of her mouth, then her cheek. Brienne feels like she’s floating. 

“Sleep, my brave Brienne,” she whispers softly, and Brienne sleeps.

‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

When she awakes once again, Rosie is next to her bed. She talks to her like nothing happened, and Brienne wonders if it was all a dream. 

“Did you have nightmares again?” Rosie asks as she brings a glass of water to Brienne’s mouth. Brienne remembers how soft Rosie’s lips were on her own, and her belly tingles.

“No,” she says. “I’m surprised. I can’t remember the last time I didn’t have them.”

“Good,” Rosie says and smiles brightly. Her face glows and her eyes twinkle. Brienne’s heart flutters. “You should get some more rest. My father will want to speak to you today.”

Brienne nods.

“I have to go feed Robbie. Call for me if you can’t sleep,” she says and gives Brienne a kiss on the cheek. Brienne blushes. 

When she falls asleep, she dreams of Rosie leaning over her bed, kissing her. She awakes sweaty and hot, with a throbbing between her thighs. 

She ignores it.

‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

Brienne recovers quickly — in the next couple of days she’s ready to leave and continue her quest. The village people wish her a lot of luck, and give her many gifts for her brave act. 

Rosie gives her a leather bracelet. “I made it while you were sleeping,” she says. 

Brienne thanks her and ignores the tug in her chest and the urge to kiss those pink, pretty lips. When she leaves, she doesn’t look back.

‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

Years pass, and after a while Rosie feels like a distant dream. Brienne rarely remembers her during waking hours.

However, when she can’t sleep, or is awoken by a nightmare — which, thankfully, happens less often than before — she still clutches the leather bracelet to her chest and imagines the feeling of Rosie’s nipple in her mouth and the soft breast pressing into her face, recalls the sweet taste of Rosie’s milk on her tongue. She remembers the warmth, the tingling, and the softness of her lips. She feels fuzzy and sleepy and safe.

She always sleeps peacefully until morning.

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[heartfullofleeches]

I'm happy you saw my ask ^^

You can choose the one you like more:

– Yandere fem apprentice x sorcerer reader

or

– Yandere fem familiar x sorcerer reader

(With the fem familiar being able to shift in and out of an animal form of your choosing that you'd like best ♥︎)

(Why not both? Reader is more of a witch, but G.N either way)

To the residents of the neighboring village and all who entered, the Crimsonwood Forest was a strange and mysterious place. A never ending sea of red barked trees for which it earn its name sake, but this feat only served as part of its tale. The forest was told to claim the lives of anyone foolish to step inside with fear in their hearts. Swallowed by the darkness, never to be seen again. There was a reason this forest held such dangers and there were those who'd attempt the change of reaching its heart. A powerful force, capable of granting the victor their greatest wish. Many believe this power to be a spirit or a begotten god.

To the inhabitants of this place, they were by another name.

"Hello?"

Tired and weary, the newest guest to the forest pushes the cabin door of the cottage from the legends. It's far from the one detailed in those old bedtime stories they heard in their youth. Instead of facing the most grueling challenge of all with the bones of past victims spewed across every corner of the room and decay in the air, they're met with an average looking living room filled with the scent of rain and something sweet.

Bottles line the shelves on the walls and a snowshoe hare lays out on a wolf skin rug. This caught the traveler's eye as they had never seen one before. That specific breed of creature had been hunted to near extinction by the founders of the village. Its herochromatic fill them with a sense of unease. Like they aren't welcome here.

"A visitor?"

The intruder raises their guard as a shadow approaches from the nearby hall. In a complete switch up to the hostile aura they were first met with, the home's owner greets them with a kind smile and even softer eyes. Their gentle gaze eases the tension the visitor felt to extinction. They stand at the doorway, attention shifting as they speak.

"It's been a while since we've had a guest. Wynn, dear. Why didn't you tell me when they entered?'

The visitor looks in the direction of who they were speaking to, losing their footing at the sight that falls upon their eyes. A woman sits on the couch, glaring daggers at them through the animal skull fitted over her face. Long, ghostly ears stick out the top of her head; her skin was slightly translucent and bones visible through her tan flesh. She huffs, folding her clawed hands over her chest.

"Don't see a reason why I should. Just another person who's only here because of that dumb story."

"Probably, but that doesn't mean we should turn away a guest. My name is Y/n, and as you may have guessed, this is my assistant, Wynn. Your journey must've been taxing on you. Would you like something to eat or drink?"

The traveler's throat is as dry as if they swallowed sand, but they weren't here for casual pleasantries. "No... I'd like to make a wish."

"A wish?" The word rolls off your tongue like it's thefirst time you ever heard it." I'm not quite sure if that's what'd you call what we do here, but I will still help you. Tell me, what is this wish of yours?"

"I want for a stronger voice. My peers tell me I do not have the talents for my dreams and I want to prove them wrong."

"Fascinating. Wynn, can you do the honors of aiding our new friend? I think it will be the perfect practice for you."

The spirit's eyes linger on the traveler. She scowls, but nods her head in compliance. "Your will is my own, Master."

Wynn climbs from her spot on the couch. She picks up a cauldron beside it and places onto a rack in the fireplace. She sorts through the various jars and bottles located on the shelves above, her arm quite literally detaching from her shoulder as she reaches for a something on a higher board. It clicks perfectly back into place as she dumps the container's contents into the pot. The liquid within bubbles from clear to pink to a murky blue. Making sure no eyes are on her, Wynn adds one extra step before the final ingredient is added. She pricks her finger on a blade produced from her pocket and wipes the blood away before motioning the traveler over.

"Prick your finger and let the blood fall in the pot."

"What? Why?"

"Want our help or not?"

The traveler takes her knife. They close their eyes and hold their hand over the cauldron as they stab their pointer finger. A thick fog clouds from it, the liquid becomes a vibrant purple as it bubbles. Wynn sticks her hand directly into the pot and pulls out a black ball. You join her side as she tosses it to the traveler.

"Eat that as soon as you leave the forest and your wish will be fulfilled."

The traveler inspects the orb. "How do I know this isn't a trick?"

"I have trust in the one I've chosen as my familiar." You speak, petting Wynn's phantom ears. "She may be difficult at times, but she has a kind heart. I fear the day she becomes human and leaves my side."

Wynn stiffens. She grips your hand as you pull away, moving it to her cheek. As if she'd leave you.

"She isn't human?"

"I thought her appearance would be enough for you to tell. No, she is not. Our forest is a beautiful, yet tragic place. So many people get lost here, as well their spirits. Sometimes, they attach to those of the forest and become chimeras like our Wynn here. She was just a shadow when we first met, but with the more she learns the closer she gets to being like you and I."

You clasp your hands together. "It's about time for you to return home. Wynn will lead you out the forest and you are welcome to come back anytime."

The front door opens, Wynn waiting on the other side. "Hop to it."

Seeing that its probably best not to question anything, the traveler follows her outside.

-

The walk back is somehow more tense than the journey there. Things were slightly less scary with someone at their side, but not by much when said partner looked five seconds from taking their life. The traveler jumps as a wolf howls in the distance.

"I have a wish too"

The traveler's surprised to hear the woman speak. Its the first time she had since they left. What did she mean by that? The wide space of the clearing they just entered does little to quell the building tension.

"Wouldn't it be better to eat it now? If it doesn't work, then we can go back now. A second journey might kill you."

She did have a point. The travel turns the ball over in their hand. They pull its skin with their teeth. The taste it horribly bitter, but they pinch their nose and take a large bite. It takes only two to finish it, but they feel no different. They open their mouth to speak, but nothing comes out.

"You didn't think I'd really let you go, did you?"

A burning pain finds itself on the inside of the traveler's throat. It feels like they swallowed molten lava; increasing in intensity by the second. They hold their hands over their throat as they collapse to the ground, trying to stop their skin from blistering and the fluid trapped with from pouring out.

"My master... They work so hard to make sure everyone is happy. Like they're some tool. I hate it."

Glowing orbs appear upon the tree linings. They growl with unseen jowls and circle around the woman.

"I want to take them far away from here. To a place where none of you people can find them. I want to take them on dates and enjoy the domestic things in life without fear of someone trying to steal them from me."

The first creature approaches, snarling and dripping venom from its pointed fangs.

"As much as I care for them, I have to admit they're wrong about my transformation. One day, a greedy mortal like you came back after their wish was granted and demanded to see my master. Claimed they loved them. That they wanted to be with them forever. It made me so upset that I couldn't control myself. When I came to they were gone, and I became this."

Wynn walks over to the traveler, lifting their head off the ground. Those lights encircle them both. Teeth tear as their clothing, but their throat is too burnt out for them to scream.

"I'm so close now. Just a few more of you and I'll be human, then we'll never be apart. Thank you for helping me grant my wish."

[zeroducks-2]

Pretty out of nowhere but,, What do you think about dickdami as a ship?

No worries anon, you can keep asking me about ships for that ask game, I love to blather ♥ (it's here for who's interested, if you reblog it I'll surely ask you about some ships!)

but anyway, absolutely yes

I ship it!

What made you ship it? I wouldn't be able to say exactly what it was. I think I've been lowkey shipping them since forever, then at some point I started warming up to Omegaverse AUs (in the sense that I've always loved ABO but my head had to sort of "make it work" in a DC superheroes situation), and at that point I was like YES, OMG Y E S. Especially because of Damian's clear-as-day crush on Dick.

What are your favorite things about the ship? Dami is a possessive little shit, and Grayson is his. Dick in skintight suits was surely his sexual awakening and his first crush, and I can easily see how the little demon would fixate on the idea that as soon as he's old enough, he and Dick are supposed to be together. In an ABO situation it works even better, especially when Dick is an Omega and Damian and Alpha because it validates the aforementioned mental process - "after I present me and Grayson will be together as mates". Dick meanwhile is there smiling like "he's a kid, he'll grow out of it sooner or later". No he won't :) (and also, I don't think Dick would ever be able to tell Damian no in whatever circumstance which makes it even juicier, intermingling with Dick's sense of shame and inability to resist when someone pressures him into something, which is something that Bruce took advantage of for Dick's entire life) If we're talking about a Reverse!Robins situation it also works amazingly. (I know, I know. I a lot of people hate the whole reverse!robin thing. "Damian shouldn't even be called Robin because that's a Dick Grayson thing!", "Stephanie makes no sense as Red Hood because she wouldn't care about Batman not avenging her!" LISTEN!!! I know. You are correct. However it is FUN to imagine the batkids with their ages reversed and their roles blurred, especially for shippy reasons, therefore I do not give a fuck ♥ Love you) Like imagine adult, bitter, troubled Damian finding the light of his life in this kid who lost his parents in such a gruesome way, having to teach him and guide him, be his mentor and his moral compass, in turn learning how to work his own skewed sense of justice. Imagine adult, touch-starved Damian having his heart beating so fast when this kid hugs him and falls asleep in his arms, needing comfort and giving so much warmth at the same time. Imagine stone-hearted, disillusioned Damian experiencing so much wonder at seeing this kid grow up and treat him like the most wonderful, precious human being that ever existed, even if Damian perceives himself as cold, unforgiving and unlovable. And when this special, one-in-a-million kid starts blushing every time they take their suits off, and getting clingy and jealous or anyone who buzzes around Dami, and obviously feeling for Damian something which is not just brotherly love, well. At that point what is even Damian supposed to do - Dick is his everything, and he wants to keep being Dick's everything in return.

Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship? Probably what I just wrote, meaning that I normally prefer the ship when it's a Reverse!Robins situation (but I like it in any form anyway)

[cosmic-waves7]

Comforting an insecure Howl

Notes: I wanted to try a different technique than the usual bullet point headcannons, lmk what u think babes. ( ˘ ³˘)♥

It's happening again.

Howl's locked himself into the bathroom and won't let anyone in while green goo seeped through between the floor boards of the castle and the bottom of the bathroom door.

It was already a big shift for him to have his hair darken from the deep golden blonde to a rich raven black after Sophie accidentally mixed up his potions and hair products while cleaning- she'd apologized profusely after that. There's nothing wrong with having black hair, in fact you found it quite a lovely shade on him but the colour only served to remind him of his other form which he's still working on accepting.

There had been difficult days with his other form but this new hair was taking a bit of a toll on his insecurity and you could understand why he was upset but that didn't mean you would leave him wallow in self pity.

Markle lead you to the goo leaking room Howl decided to hole up in and left you to your own devices, he knew the goo would soon stop with you here. Softly knocking on the door you waited until it cracked open with sad blue eyes peeking through

"Can I come in?" You softly asked, a gentle smile growing on your face.

"Fine."

Finally letting the door push open you ignored the goop filling your socks, focusing all of your attention on a fully shifted Howl who had decided to flop into the bathtub noises of discontent leaving his feathered form.

"I look hideous."

With your knees resting on the floor, your forearms resting against the tub's edge you sighed.

"I think you're quite pretty darling, whatever form you take."

More grumbling noises ensued from the angry oversized crow while he rubbed his face into your neck.

"promise?"

"promise."

"even like this?"

"even like this."

He only looked away at that, seemingly not convinced before you let Your fingers card through his sticky feathers.

Howl wasn't the confrontational type, pushing him wasn't going to help but giving him his own time would let the damn break and he'd finally spill.

"The people two town's over thought I was some sort of monster when I was flying on the way back."

You hummed quietly pressing your lips to his cheek while the feathers slowly sank Into his skin, disappearing leaving your frowning dark haired partner with his fingers locked through yours.

"am I really a monster?"

"nonsense."

The goo had completely disappeared by then, sinking into the floorboards and slinking back out of existence while you pressed your lips to his forehead one more time.

"You know, I think the new colour looks quite beautiful."

You only heard a small grunt in response but it was enough to satisfy you as you could already see a small quirk on his lips.

Howl thrived for praise, espically praise from you since he knew that you only ever complimented him from the heart.

With a bit of hauling and effort on your part he was comfortable out of the bathroom and resting on his bed, now changed and drained of the use of his magic.

A bit more grumbling and pleading, you found yourself nuzzled in his neck with his arms wrapped loose around you and small whispers being passed between you both.

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

꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡

[valaruakars]

Send Nudes 💌

Viktor x f!Reader || 2.2k || NSFW

As the titles says. You slip Viktor your nudes and let the chaos unfold. 

♥ One 👏 day 👏 project 👏 Might edit it on Saturday. Probs not tho.

warnings: voyeurism, masturbation, lil bit of blowjob, idk it’s really not that bad 

Viktor expects a morning much like every other in the lab, and in many ways, it is.

He arrives just before Jayce, with enough time to get the heat running, make coffee and peck at a muffin you’ve sent with him, settling nicely into the day. His partner enters with the usual ‘good morning,’ and today it’s a spirited greeting accented with an eager smile. Jayce immediately jumps into routine, gathering what he needs to set himself up for another day of progress.

As Viktor takes up residence at his desk, hefting his bag onto the as of yet uncluttered surface, Jayce approaches with an easy request.

“Oh hey, before you get started, can I borrow your notes on the resonance equation?”

“Of course,” he nods, rummaging through his bag without a second thought, “Let me— Ah, here.”

Jayce takes the tattered brown book into his hands, cracking it open as he turns on his heel to go. “Thanks, I’ll get it back to you—” He manages one step before he slams it shut and whirls around, shoving it back at Viktor with bizarre urgency, his voice strangled when he says, “Now. Right now.”

Bewildered, he looks down at the notebook now clutched to his chest, then back to his partner, who is red-faced to the tips of his ears. “Jayce, what—” he tries, but is cut off by the heavy clap of Jayce’s hand on his shoulder.

“Wow man, I’m… so happy for you. Just uh, forget I saw anything, okay?” he insists, pointedly avoiding eye contact, “I’ll work on something else today.”

At a total loss for how to respond, Viktor weakly echos “Okay…” to his hastily retreating back.

It takes only the span of two heartbeats before curiosity overtakes him and Viktor is scrambling to see what the hell could have shaken his friend so thoroughly, and oh.

Oh.

Stuck between the pages, rendered in black and white, is you. Several iterations of you, evidently, but the one on top, the one Jayce saw… His face burns. You, lips parted, chest bared, letting your sheer little robe slip down the arms cradling your naked breasts. The worst—maybe best?—part is this: your neck, proudly exposed, is absolutely ravaged with a dark mosaic of marks only he could have left there. It dawns on him, the way your hair is mused and your distant stare glassy, that you undoubtedly took this after he fucked you thoroughly and left.

You are an unsubtle thing, at times ruthless in your pursuit of his affections. And this is so unmistakably you, to turn your lust into something so temptingly beautiful, for if your body is fine art then he is a connoisseur.

And there’s more.

But Viktor quickly, carefully as not to damage them, shuffles your pictures into his vest pocket where they can rest heavy near his riotous heart. You are thoughtful. You are wicked.

It’s going to be a very long day.

And true to form, the hours until evening move at a glacial pace. Little work of the collaborative sort can be accomplished when his partner will hardly look in his direction. It leaves him to simmer on high somewhere between embarrassment that Jayce might think him an absolute pervert and jealously that the wrong man saw your brazen gifts first. Well, at least one of them.

At regular intervals, his fingers itch to pull them out and glance for the briefest moment at how else you’ve posed yourself for his viewing pleasure. But his mind tuts disapprovingly that things like this are meant to be savored and there is work to be done that doesn’t involve a frivolous boner.

Regardless, hardly anything gets done before the bulk of the day has passed at a snail’s pace.

He waits fifteen excruciating minutes past seven and then finally excuses himself to dinner like it’s simply an afterthought, but the tap of his cane blatantly announces his hurried, eager pace. Jayce waves over his shoulder and says nothing, hardly looks up from his writing, and thank the gods for it.

You’ve beaten him back to your apartment. Of course you have, since this was so clearly a trap. You’re not trying to hide it, smiling at him in the mirror like you’ve triumphed as you languidly brush out your hair. Wearing that slinky, nearly translucent slip and the very same robe from your picture, spilling off one shoulder suggestively.

“I was starting to think you didn’t quite get the message,” your reflection says without preamble, setting down the brush amongst your clutter of bottles and baubles.

“(Y/N),” he sighs, sliding his coat from his shoulders, “Will you never just… tell me what you want?”

“A little credit please, I can definitely be blunt. But there’s not much romance in that. Besides, if I had said this morning ‘please come home early and fuck me’ you would have forgotten by now.”

“Write me a note next time,” he quips all too carelessly.

“You’d prefer a note?” Your face blanches like you’ve been struck, curdling swiftly into anger as you pivot in your chair to look at him directly, “Seriously?”

“No, no—” he says, quick to amend the implication that he didn’t like what he saw, “That was, ah, very thoughtful. But do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

“I think I do,” you simper, dragging your eyes shamelessly down to stare at the outline of his cock, “I’m sure it was awfully hard to get any work done today. Did you try thinking with the head on your shoulders, hm?” But you can’t ever take yourself too seriously, snickering at your own little joke.

“I did,” he says dryly, “That was not the issue.” The delicate arch of your brow is prompt enough. “We had collaborative work planned for today, but Jayce could hardly speak to me.”

“Why…?”

“I lent him my notebook.”

“That notebook?”

“Yes.”

“But you took the pictures out first, right?” He doesn’t respond neither immediately nor affirmatively, and your voice pitches up an octave. “Right?”

“How could I have, (Y/N)? I hadn’t seen them yet.”

“Oh. Oh, oops—” you snort, much less mortified than you ought to be, your shoulders shaking with quiet laughter, “Embarrassing, but at least I had the good sense to put the tamest one on top.”

“That was… tame?”

“Um, yes?” you scoff, canting your head curiously, “I think that’s pretty obvious. Unless… Did you not see all of them?”

“There was no good time to look,” he says softly, finally moving in closer to pet your pretty hair, “And I hoped you might show me instead.” His hand migrates to your shoulder, brushing down the thin strap of your slip as he presses his lips to your temple, whispering, “Why would I need pictures when I can have the real thing?”

When you are bold enough to touch his cheek, turning your head to catch his lips, he obliges you one long, thorough kiss. He seizes the opportunity to slide that paper-thin garment off your shoulders entirely, letting it gather around your waist. Exposed and at the mercy of his cold, calloused hands, you flinch beneath his frigid touch as he moves to cradle the softness of your breast. Whether from the chill or the sweet sensation, you shiver beneath him as his thumb brushes over your nipple; once, twice, until you finally make a lovely, breathy sound for him.

It’s quite flattering the way your body chases his lips when he pulls away, wanting more so involuntarily.

He offers you a hand as you rise to your feet, sending you off in the direction of the too empty bed. You have an awfully confused look on your rosy face, an adorable crinkle to your brow, when he drags the chair you’d been occupying to the end of the bed. How sad, that it pales and you look so stricken when he moves to sit, laying his cane on the floor.

“I—I didn’t think you meant… that.”

“Is this a problem?” he asks thickly, a trace of humor on his tongue. Moving to unfasten his pants, he baits you skillfully, “Are you suddenly shy, lyubov?”

“No,” you mutter, an indignant sound, slinking onto the bed with a huff. You seem mad, but fuck, he can’t help noticing the delicious sway of your breasts as you settle in on your knees. “It just feels like you’re punishing me.”

“I’m not punishing you,” he soothes, drawing out his cock and letting you watch, open-mouthed and entranced, that first stroke of his hand, “Is this not what you hoped for?”

“When I’m not around, sure,” you pout, torn between staring at his hand and his lust-blown eyes, “But I’m here and very willing to put my mouth on you.”

“No, thank you,” he hums, and regrets it slightly for the dry friction he has relegated himself to. A deeply obscene voice in his mind whispers to make you lean over and spit on his cock, but he’s lucid enough to believe that might cross a line into degrading when you already seem cagey. “I would prefer to see the content of your next picture now.”

“Asshole,” he hears you grumble beneath your breath, whispering for you to be nice, my darling in return.

He strokes himself languidly, letting his legs fall wider apart despite the faint protest in his hip. An appreciative little groan falls unbidden from his lips as you arrange yourself, revealing your salacious lack of panties. Your pose isn’t quite as lewd as expected; rather, it’s teasingly sensual as you curl onto your side, knees pulled toward your chest, toes pointed just so, to allow him a complete view of your perfect ass. The peek of your cunt, already wet and wanting, is only a bonus. He wonders distantly if you’re replicating the expression too, your teeth sunk into your lip, a curious stare cast over your shoulder. “That’s two of four,” you remind him helpfully, wiggling your strong thighs temptingly, “Let me know when you get tired of your hand.”

“Mmhm. Next, please,” he says dismissively, loosening his tie where it feels tight around his flushed neck.

You shift up onto your knees once again, pulling the slip entirely off your body. This. This is what he was anticipating. You spread your hips wide and sink into a deep spread, leaning back just slightly to show off your swollen lips and ruefully untouched clit. Your hands reach up to cradle the back of your head, tangling into your hair, and the stretch of your breasts is an exquisite sight. You hum a laugh as you bounce yourself for embellishment, evidently loosening up under his watchful eye. “Oh wow,” you snicker from above him, “You look close.”

“I do not,” he scoffs, but his body is beginning to tell him otherwise, if he listens.

“Consider that I’ve seen what your face looks like when you cum,” you whisper with the dulcet voice of a complete smart-ass. At least you don’t need to be told to take up the last position.

You do that of your own accord, turning onto your hands and knees. But it gets so much worse. You bow your body to the headboard, pressing your cheek down into the mattress, and spread your thighs before him so that, unimpeded, he can see everything. Your hand snakes between your legs, coming to grip the skin right where your thighs and soaking cunt meet, but going no further. Of course, it would ruin the view. But he’s well past that now.

The cord in him is drawn very, very tight. He’s always had an embarrassingly easy time getting off just thinking about you, never mind looking straight at the compromising bend of your body, how devastatingly wet you get for him.

“Come here,” he rasps, voice dangerously close to cracking.

“No, you come here,” you demand, finally dragging your fingers down the drenched expanse of your folds with a sigh.

“(Y/N), pozhaluysta—” he pleads, trying to impart upon you the gravity of the situation, “—I can’t.”

And whether that means he’s too close, literally can’t get up, or just can’t fuck you like that today, it doesn’t matter. You get it. You get it to the point that you scramble off the bed and practically throw yourself to the floor at his feet, hands gripping his thighs reassuringly as you search his face for instruction.

“Your mouth,” he hisses through gritted teeth, and there’s barely time before he’s spilling in thick rivulets across your tongue and down your throat. He is struck by the realization that you’re not just making pleased little sounds around his cock for the hell of it. No, you’ve got a hand cradled between your legs and you’re writhing on your knees against it, coming completely undone alongside him.

“Enough,” he breathes, coaxing your mouth off him. Your heavy head falls against his thigh as the last tremors of your orgasm wrack your body, and he pets your hair, soothes your cheek through it.

Your voice is small, your breathing still ragged when you whisper, “You’re going back, aren’t you?”

“I have to,” he sighs, tucking himself away, “But not yet. After dinner.”

“Oh,” you say, your voice a tight, hesitant thing, “So… am I dinner?”

“No, I was being literal,” he laughs, a soft, resonant sound, “But you’ve been good to me, lyubov. You could be dessert.”

[eruden-writes]

The Unexpected Human Problem - Part 22 (Yautja x Human)

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Part 1 | Part 2| Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5| Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Part 24 | Part 25 | Part 26 | Part 27 (coming soon)

CW: Violence, blood, death.

Tag list: @ajarofpickledtears, @boogeysmoth

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Early chapters available on Patreon for my patrons! ;)

(Yes, Part 23 is already available on there. And it's a spicy one.)

Comments, tags, and reblogs are real motivators for me, too! ♥

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Summary: The night her abductors die, Rayelle finds herself running for her life. She doesn’t know where she is, what is following her, where to go. All she knows is she’s not on Earth any longer and the thing chasing her has the capacity to kill.

Tai'dqei never anticipated finding a human when he took the job of tracking and subduing a small contingent of smugglers. It was only when the human attacked and fled fled, Tai'dqei - hopped up on the euphoria of a successful hunt - gave chase, instinct burning at his center.

Will sense return to Tai'dqei before he catches Rayelle? Or will Rayelle be subjected to the yautja’s natural inclinations?

And what happens afterwards?

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Confusion settled over Rayelle's thoughts at Tai'dqei's single word command. Run? Why? There wasn't any danger, any longer.

"Why? Zav's taken care of and no one else is-" Rayelle cast a wary look around, wondering if there were other dangers lurking in the shadows. Dangers that would make the yautja tell her to flee.

Tai'dqei took a step forward, barely restraining himself. A strong urge to grab Rayelle and bring her close to him bit along his arms. Under that urge, another seethed, desiring to lose himself inside her. To hear her sounds, while she was caught in the throes of pleasure. To feel her clench around him as her nails raked over his skin. Claws of instinct and heat sunk into him, threatening to tear his self-control apart.

"You. Hit. Me." He bit out each word, trying to put meaning into every syllable. Please, let her remember. Let her understand. Between the adrenaline of the fight and dispatching so many enemies, his instincts were riding hard in his head. Like rivers of sparking electricity, sinking deep into his muscles.

Her striking him, after everything, didn't help his self-control.

"It was an accide-!" Rayelle started to snap, before a memory of Tai'dqei's own words ricocheted through her head.

"One yautja mating ritual is meant to assess the capabilities of a mate by gaining their attention and then running. Challenging them to a different sort of hunt."

She wheeled her attention back to Tai'dqei, her heart skipping at the realization. He stood stiff, fighting something inside himself. Like a dog trying so hard to be good and not gobble up a treat. Heat flared up her body and warmed her face. Rayelle stared at him, in the fading in-and-out light. Tai'dqei was covered in blood of various hues, including his own. Scratches and dents marred his armor.

Before he even intercepted Zav, Tai'dqei had engaged with who-knew-how-many others. How many had he dispatched or incapacitated? How many had he tied up for others to deal with? How much victory had he seen and how did that play into his instinctive urges?

Her mouth fell open, snapped closed, before opening again to say something. But a small contingent of other humans scurried around the corner, each armed with some sort of makeshift weapon.

"Rayelle! What's going on?" Lisa demanded, hoisting a crowbar swiped from the staff's "infirmary." Her eyes wheeled around, seeking immediate dangers, overlooking the hulking armored alien and the grass-scented dead Florizian in the red-black lighting.

Before Rayelle could answer, Abe noticed Zav's decimated form. His free hand half-covering his mouth as the shovel he held in the other drooped. "Oh lord, what's that?"

"Forget that, who're they?" Bette pointed her rolling pin at Tai'dqei, suspicion painted across her features. She looked ready to attack if Rayelle said the word.

With eyes so wide, they nearly popped out of his face, a pale-faced Mizan softly gasped from behind Abe, "Is that a yautja?"

The appearance of the others eased the tension in Tai'dqei. Good. Their human audience dampened the hunger in him. Not entirely, but enough to keep him from straining against his own self-control.

"Are you all done now?" Rayelle snapped, her hands planted on her hips when there was a lull in the rapid-fire questions. When it appeared they were, she pointed to the yautja with her thumb. "That is Tai'dqei. The yautja that ferried me here."

"Him?" Sandra gasped, her eyes almost as wide as Mizan's. Though her expression couldn't exactly be considered fearful, Rayelle acknowledged, as the housewife's eyes certainly dipped down and up Tai'dqei's armored form.

Bette eased from her offensive stance, mirroring Sandra's assessing look before giving an appreciative hum.

Tai'dqei's mandibles flexed as they spoke, not noticing how the others stared at him. He was used to most humans fearing him, given history. And if these were time-displaced humans, their attention was going to be apprehension, no matter the situation.

No, his mind gnawed on the fact Rayelle had told the other humans about him. The only question was if it was good or bad. Likely both, he decided in an attempt to neither get too hopeful or too dire.

"What's going on, Tai'dqei?" Rayelle's question shook Tai'dqei from his thoughts.

He glanced up at her, finding she hadn't moved any closer to her human companions. She stayed rooted in the spot she'd been when they arrived, between them and him. Though her outstretched hand, seemingly intent to touch him, hung by her side now. A part of him bristled, preferring the thought of her hand touching him than not. He shoved the thought away.

Tai'dqei gave what almost sounded like a frustrated clicking sound - though Rayelle doubted it was due to her question - before replying to her. "You messaged me. I came."

"What about the others?" She motioned to Zav, highlighting the implication she was talking about the other aliens. Rayelle had to fight to ignore the pleasant heat that churned up her at his answer. It had been as simple as that, had it? She communicated her concerns, so he came.

"Many are dead. Other incapacitated." Tai'dqei rolled his shoulders, absentmindedly, as he glanced around the corridor. Rayelle didn't miss how, even clad in his armor, the movement highlighted his musculature. It made the corners of her lips threaten a smile, wondering if he had done that intentionally or without thinking.

It was that ghost of a smile on her lips that made Tai'dqei realize what he was doing. He forced his body to still, even though the desire to move - to do certain things - made him fidgety. "Reinforcements will be here soon. I apprised them of the situation in a transmission."

"Other yautja?" Rayelle ignored the slight whine Mizan gave, obviously their experience with the alien race alive and well in their head.

Tai'dqei ignored how one of the humans whimpered, answering simply, "Yes."

"Okay." A tension in Rayelle's shoulders eased. She didn't want to say it outloud, considering the stories she had heard from later generations, but her trust was low for other non-humans. Even if Tai'dqei was an exception, she still felt better knowing it was only yautja coming. Others likely didn't hold the same relief.

Turning to the other thankfully silent humans, she nodded back down the hall, toward the direction of the bunker. "You all go back to the shelter."

"What about you?" Bette asked, raising her eyebrows. The woman's expression made Rayelle feel like a teenager again, being silently called out for being in a closed room alone with their boyfriend.

"Tai'dqei and I have some things to discuss." A blush flared over her cheeks as she explained, trying to indicate to Bette, through her own raised eyebrows, to shut-the-fuck-up. She ignored how Lisa snorted at her answer or the looks the others gave her.

"Now?" Sandra wrinkled her nose, though it was hard to miss the amusement on her lips.

Taking a deep breath, Rayelle closed her eyes and tried not to sound so annoyed with her own people. "Remember what I said of yautja rituals? I accidentally hit him with the extinguisher."

Rayelle opened her eyes, just in time to see Sandra's lips form an 'o' before she nodded and scurried off. If it wasn't for the red light, Rayelle would have guessed the woman blushed fiercely. The others quickly followed after, save for Lisa, who lingered with a shit-eating grin on her lips. "So, if you scream, should we-"

"Lisa, I swear to fuck! Just go!" Rayelle nearly snarled, jabbing a finger in the direction of the bunker. At that, Lisa cackled and trotted off.

Glaring after Lisa, Rayelle was grateful that the punk hadn't decided to linger or try to eavesdrop on them. However, with the peanut gallery of her people gone, silence slipped in. It weighed heavily over Rayelle and Tai'dqei, as the lights faded through a handful of red-black cycles. When her attention turned slowly back to Tai'dqei, she realized this 'talk' should likely wait.

Both of them were covered in blood, her clothing ripped in places. Scratches and cuts littered her body. The blood encrusted fire extinguisher weighed heavily in her hand.

Tai'dqei appeared in worse condition, though the threshold was likely larger for a yautja compared to a human. Parts of his netting were ripped or completely missing, his armor dented and scraped, large smears of blood coated him. She wasn't even sure if he was badly injured or not. If he was, he didn't act like it, but Rayelle suspected that no yautja would, especially high on battle fervor.

"You should go," he finally growled, still not stepping closer to her, not trusting himself. He had to fight himself just to say those words. Her excuse to the others had stirred wonderful carnal heat in him, but Tai'dqei stuffed it down. She wasn't going to humor his instincts, wasn't going to let him rut her right there. Not in the state either of them were in. "Whatever needs to be discussed can be addressed later."

She looked up at him, her expression appraising and unreadable. He tensed as she stepped closer, the muscles tightening down his back. Intuitively, he was preparing for something. What it was, however, he wasn't sure.

Whatever considerations she had about waiting dissipated. Between her surgeries and arriving at the resort, she had stalled. Trying to make sense of her feelings toward the yautja man, so capable and comfortable with killing. Their time apart had given her perspective, understanding.

In this moment, they were here. Together. The danger - according to Tai'dqei - was handled for the moment. Zav, the likely ringleader, was dead. Their little audience had finally retreated to safety. The calvary was on the way.

Rayelle took another step closer to him and had to bite down a laugh as Tai'dqei seemed ready to stumble backward a step. Tilting her chin up, narrowing her eyes while still smiling, she demanded, "Why?"

"You know why." He growled, clearly frustrated. The frayed ropes of his restraint were ready to snap as she took another step closer.

Rayelle's smile widened a little further. He was trying so hard to be good, to not touch her, he completely overlooked her signals. Then again, maybe her signals were foreign to him, considering they were completely different species. Still, she tilted her head to the side, licking her lips before pressing further, "Do I?"

"Ye-" A sudden splurt of foam from the extinguisher caught him in the face. An annoyed rumble vibrated from his chest as he reached up and swiped the mess from his mask's smooth visor. Only to catch sight of Rayelle dropping the extinguisher, turning, and running.

She was fucking running.

Tai'dqei didn't even get a chance to stop himself. No thought lit between his brain and feet as he took off after her. With a snarl, he charged, quickly gaining ground. The second she heard him start rushing after her, excitement prickled through her veins.

The excitement sparked as she sensed, more than felt, a hand reach for her hoodie's hood. A bead of mild disappointment, at the game being short-lived, pulsed through her.

But it didn't have to be that way, she realized.

As Tai'dqei triumphantly closed his clawed fingers around her hood, prepared to yank her back against his chest, Rayelle writhed out of the jacket. She slipped from one sleeve and spun, sharply turning to slip from the other sleeve.

A half-snarl, half-hiss left the yautja as he instantly dropped the hoodie, wasting no time to lunge for the woman. He only barely missed snagging Rayelle as she turned a corner and his boots slipped in a pool of blood.

There was a brief second of confusion, as the sound of his boots faltered and skidded, a dull thump against a solid surface. Glancing over her shoulder, she had to bite back a laugh. Even in the fading red light, she could see him push off the wall he had slid into, a smear of blood that trailed from a puddle the evident culprit to Tai'dqei's fumble.

Was he so focused on her, he wasn't paying attention to his surroundings? The prickle of excitement jolted, piquing sudden and high.

Ducking and dodging through the wartorn Rerli 3 resort, Rayelle only caught glimpses of disaster between bumbling through darkness. Over spilled carts, around large fallen foes, and under vents torn from the ceiling. Tai'dqei had certainly done a number on the place, if that was all his doing.

Some of the damage had to be from other humans, fighting to survive. Part of her knew that. But that part was quickly being shoved to the wayside as delight and hormones took over. There'd be time to worry and fret and grieve later.

Right now, she just wanted to steal some time with Tai'dqei. Even if running away from him appeared counter intuitive to that. More than once, she stumbled and gasped, sure that Tai'dqei would descend on her in her mistake.

Being larger, Tai'dqei had to take more care moving around a building clearly made for human-sized entities. The bulk of his armor slowed him down, catching on debris or bodies skewered to walls or the ceiling. It was utterly infuriating.

Further, whatever Rayelle had sprayed at him was playing havoc with his helmet's thermal sensor. Though, he supposed running into that wall hadn't helped, either. A background thought noted he'd have to get it repaired.

Either way, it made following her movements in the emergency lighting aggravating. Even as she staggered on occasion, whatever ground he gained was lost as the world habitually plunged into darkness. Without his thermal visor, the shadows forced him to slow lest he make another ill-thought mistake and lose her completely.

The longer he followed her, the worse the heat in him grew. As frustrating as the situation was, as ridiculous as he felt for blundering, Tai'dqei was determined to scratch this fucking itch. It gnawed at him for too long. The hunger for her ached through him, spraying fire over his nerves and making it difficult to think logically, to plan, to defend against Rayelle's own tricks.

His thoughts whorled around her. How she'd feel under his hands, under him. Her softness, her heat, the sounds she'd make. An excited growl perpetually caught in his throat as he plunged on, this time not slowing as the lights dimmed.

Rayelle's desperate feet wove the way back to the 1990s and 2000s areas, trying to recall the mental map she had of Rerli's resort. She nearly ran by the door she sought, but she thankfully saw it in the last second of red light.

She ducked through it and into the strangely quiet and seemingly untouched library. Once the lights bathed the world in red again, Rayelle picked up her pace. Racing through the stacks, she tried to remain silent on her feet and attempted to not drip any gore on the library's offerings.

She wasn't exactly sure where to go, just yet. For now, she was just leading Tai'dqei on a chase. That seemed the important part, she figured. It got the blood pumping, the heart racing, anticipation rising. At least, that's what it was doing for her.

Thoughts of what would happen when Tai'dqei did get his hands on her plagued her under-thoughts, as her forethoughts tried to find the next obstacle to make the chase satisfying.

The door slammed open just as she made it three-quarters of the way across the library, to the door on the opposite side of the room. Slapping a hand over her mouth, quieting her gasp, Rayelle ducked down. In a crouch, she moved quietly until the bulk of a desk shielded her.

"Rayelle!" Tai'dqei barked, sending a shiver down her spine as his authoritative tone rattled her bones. His own pace slowed as he peered around. The room appeared to be a cache for books in tall shelving units. So tall, it easily hid Rayelle from view.

Further frustration pulled a growl from his throat.

Coming up to a shelf, he eyed the books. Flashes of memory flickered in his head, from his time with Rayelle, watching her bent over a book and reading. Tai'dqei gave a thoughtful click, as an idea struck him. Working off a theory, he snatched a book off its shelf, flipping it open. After one last glance around, finding no hint of Rayelle, he experimentally tore a few pages.

For a wild second, Rayelle tried to make sense of the hissing sound. It sounded familiar, but nothing dangerous. Realization struck her like a truck and her eyes widened.

Was he tearing pages out of the book?!

Jumping up from her hunkered down spot, losing the protection of a desk, she yelled at him, "Tai'dqei, don't you dare!"

His attention snapped toward the movement before she had even called out. Tai'dqei chittered with satisfaction. Forgotten, the book carelessly dropped to the carpet as he bolted toward her.

A yelp squeezed through her lips as she darted the final feet toward the door, bounding over the threshold and slamming it shut behind her. She doubted the yautja would cause further destruction in the library. There was no doubt in Rayelle's mind he'd only damaged the book to rile her. She only hoped it wasn't something valuable or irreplaceable.

If so, Tai'dqei was going to get a tongue lashing after this was all over.

She had barely stepped out into the hall when the door knot behind her rattled. Her heart leapt in her throat as her feet carried her fast down the hall, not caring how heavy her footsteps thudded against the tiles. Desperately, she looked around for another destination. There'd be little obstruction for Tai'dqei's pursuit in the hallway.

Faint relief swelled as her eyes landed on the kitchen's swinging doors. Swerving toward the door, she pushed through, hearing Tai'dqei gaining behind her. An excited apprehension nipped across her nerves, once more. The sensation dropping deep into her center.

Rayelle careened into the community kitchen, skirting the large island in the middle of the room. Tai'dqei burst in before the kitchen doors even closed and Rayelle turned to face him. She was painfully aware of heat rising in both her face and her core.

"Got you," he growled with pride, hands flexing at his sides as his steps slowed. Now, he walked like a big cat, eyeing its prey. And he was going to certainly enjoy eating her up. Even now, he imagined he could taste her sweetness on his tongue.

Rayelle's heart skittered in her chest, the blush worsening across her cheeks. Her chest rose and fell with deep breaths, but delight burned through her. Even if she wanted to, even if she hadn't been running, Rayelle wasn't sure she could calm her breathing. Electricity snapped in the air around her, both tempting her to give in and continue running.

Tipping her chin up, she tried to sound firm, a teasing half-smile crooked at her lips. "I don't think I'll let you catch me just yet."

A chuff of a laugh left the yautja and he moved further into the room, his steps measured and precise. He let loose another growl, his mandibles flexing. How to go about this, he wondered, a litany of raunchy scenarios playing out in his mind's eye.

As his brain fed him hormone-drenched thoughts, Rayelle's mind noticed his growl didn't possess an undertone of irritation or anger, like when he was fighting Zav. This growl felt playful, somehow. A cascade of quivering heat slid down her spine, as it had when he taunted her in the seat.

Her thoughts stuttered to a halt as Tai'dqei skillfully hopped up onto the island in one jump. His weight thumped hard on the counter. With an alarm curse, she pushed back against the far corner, though her eyes remained on his form.

The surprise turned into a cackle of amusement as, in his intense focus on getting to her, Tai'dqei hadn't noticed the ceiling rack of dangling pots.

Lips of metal pots caught onto the edges between his plates of armor, making him hiss and spit with displeasure. Once he was free of one implement, three more would tangle or bang noisily against him.

Thanking her lucky stars, Rayelle wasted no time racing around the island and the entangled yautja. His frustrated snarls followed her through yet another door and into a new hall. Rayelle's laughter, trailing behind her, sent a stab of impatient fire through Tai'dqei. With an annoyed howl, he grabbed the rack itself and yanked hard.

Parts of plaster and ceiling rained down, as Tai'dqei broke the rack free. A cacophony filled the air as pans and pots and metal utensils littered the floor. Tai'dqei didn't notice any of it. His fiery gaze turned in the direction Rayelle had gone as he tossed the rack against a far wall.

Before the rack and wall made an intimate impact, Tai'dqei launched himself off the island and raced after Rayelle.

He knew he was making ill-thought mistakes. Part of him was frustrated at his inability to think critically, too distracted by Rayelle to focus, but another part of him enjoyed the chase, her laughter and amusement. Even if it incensed something deep inside him, promising to make the rutting Rayelle was about to receive one she would never forget.

The longer the wait, the sweeter the end result. But he'd waited so long already.

After the clatter - and that howl that churned at her insides - Rayelle heard those familiar footfalls behind her once more. She barely kept from looking back. The worry she'd just stop and let him finish the game clashed against the continuously building desire in her.

But now, she had an idea of where she wished to lead Tai'dqei.

A sharp turn ended in a dead end, with no apparent exits. Rayelle spun on her heel, walking backward as Tai'dqei's steps slowed behind her.

His growl was smug, goading, as his head cocked to the side. "Dead end."

"That doesn't sound very sexy." Rayelle wrinkled her nose as her back nudged against a wall. Her hands reached behind her, looking for the console inlaid into the wall. It had to be there, she thought. Unless she got turned around, which was a possibility. Either result would end the same way, but her mistake only ended the game sooner.

Tai'dqei's response was only a growl and further steps toward her, closing the distance. Part of him waited to see what she'd do, though. Would she submit? Would she fight? Or did she have something else up her sleeve?

Her fingertips finally found the screen and she flashed Tai'dqei a cheeky smile. "Let's try once more."

His confusion morphed into complete surprise as she slipped back into the wall. Timed well, her escape coincided with the lights fading to black.

[genshinwritings]

Christmas (related) Headcanons (1/?)

AN: Time is flying and it's almost Christmas so I kinda felt the need to write down a few headcanons! I will make more than one part of this to reduce the post length & stuff. Enjoy ♥ (gn!reader)

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Thoma

To Thoma, Christmas is a way to feel connected to his hometown once a year. The traditions throughout Inazuma are certainly different and as such it is almost impossible to compare the celebrations to those back in Mondstadt. He remembers the times when he was still a small child, running through the cold at night with his friends – the first snowfall of the year, along with the first snowball fight and building the first snowman. Given that there is no snow in Inazuma, he cannot hold on to every single thing he did back in Mondstadt but at least he can keep up with the indoor traditions. Long baking sessions are a must do for Thoma, the biggest smile forming on his face when you agree to join him in the kitchen. While the cookies are in the oven, he will make sure to pull you close whenever he can, letting his arms rest loosely around your waist while pressing a kiss to your forehead – simply enjoying the time you spent alone together. Prepare yourself to eat tons of christmas cookies at night, lots of cuddles and some mullet wine/hot chocolate.

Thoma knows how much you love ugly christmas sweaters and since he calls himself a genius at knitting – he made you one. After spending nights on working on it, he was not sure anymore if you would really like it; after all it was meant to be a heartful joke. Yet, after seeing the bright smile on your face as you unpacked the present and the laughter you two shared, he knew it was totally worth it. He will also take you to the Asane Shrine to show you a small ‘surprise’ he had planned – your heart warming up at an incredible rate as you saw all the cats wearing small knitted santa costumes. If you ask him how many days it took for him to knit all those things and to prepare everything, he will wave it off with a small laugh telling you that it was not much of a big deal, even though he secretly spent most of his free time on it. The time does not matter to him though, if it made you happy or smile at least once, it was totally worth it in his eyes.

As mentioned before, Christmas is a time that makes Thoma think about his origins- You often catch him staring at the ocean while letting sand slide through his fingers, his eyes filled with greed and even a small pinch of loneliness. There’s not a lot you can do to make him miss his hometown less except being by his side and trying to hold up a few traditions you knew about. You can almost see him crying from laughter when you challenge him to a ‘build a snowman’ competition and the way you wanted to use sand and water instead of snow. You two tried to build a sandcastle snowman but you failed miserably… It does not matter to Thoma though, it’s the thought that counts and he couldn’t love you more for doing that for him.

Kazuha

Living with the Crux fleet usually led to attending all sorts of festivals and celebrations throughout Teyvat – many stories being told about the past years, some traditions being held up while others slowly vanished among the group. When it comes to Christmas though, they all seem to have one opinion; it must be celebrated. Kazuha loves to watch the people decorate the Alchor and listening to the hums of different christmas tunes – his heart filling with warmth whenever the group in front of him cheered and raised their glasses for a good time. Even though he spends a lot of time with the fleet, he will also make sure to be by your side as much as possible – going out for long walks in Liyue or Inazuma. He enjoys listening to your stories about how you spent your previous Christmas days, the gifts you used to receive and how much you love the cozy decorations everywhere – the sparkle in your eyes being something that he never wants to miss. When you approach the ship in the evening, you can already hear the loud singing voices of the fleet and smell the scent of warm mullet wine, a small laughter leaving Kazuha’s lips before he tells you to wait for him on deck. He returns quickly with two cups of mullet wine and a small blanket – using the chance to cuddle up with you while watching the ocean, sipping on your hot beverage every now and then while he serenades about his love for you.

Beidou once told Kazuha about advent calendars, which made him think about preparing a special one just for you. He told you about it at the beginning of December, telling you that he planned a small surprise for you on every single day until Christmas. On some days he simply prepared a plate with your favorite food or sweets, on other days he led you to a high place to watch fireworks he and Yoimiya prepared specially for you and much more. He will do everything just to see your smile, always hoping that you see the love he feels for you within those small gestures. If you plan to pull a reverse card on him and to mirror his actions of preparing an advent calendar, he will be taken aback at first – stammering how you did not have to do all this for him while his cheeks flush in a crimson red. He appreciates everything you do for him and every tiny gift you prepare – his heart always skipping a beat as he sees the next surprise you made for him.

Even though Kazuha loves being around a lot of people, he also cherishes the rare times where he gets to be completely alone with you. On Christmas Eve he already has the whole house set up with different decorations, the smell of cinnamon and chocolate filling the air as he cooks your favorite dish for you. As a present he got you a charm which is said to protect its wearer from dangerous spirits, pointing out that you should always carry it with you at all times – especially when he’s not by your side or when he’s not able to take care of you. He laughs when you hug him all of sudden, mumbling that he is delighted that you like his present while his arms loosely wrap around you. You can feel him swaying gentle from side to side while humming a christmas song – slow, careful movements turning into a soft dance to the tune of his voice.

Itto

Itto is all about the traditional aspects of Christmas, whether it is jamming to Christmas songs while getting drunk on wine or whining around to join you on a late night baking session so he can test out your ‘cookie making skills’. Sometimes you find yourself decorating the house, an uncomfortable silence spreading through the rooms – a silence which was normally impossible to take place when Itto was around – just to get startled by him as he appears behind you all of sudden, pretending to help you to put up the decorations before he starts singing christmas songs as loud and out of tune as he can. He will often do that to simply annoy you, loving the way your nose scrunches up whenever you try to ignore him before you hit his chest lightly and tell him to stop.

Itto often whines about how he is not allowed to play pranks on kids anymore to win their sweets in a dumb challenge since he got into a relationship with you and how you don’t make sure to feed him right during festive days – all just to lure you into baking cookies for him. He can cook to survive but if he had to bake to make it through the day, he would miserably disappear from the world’s surface within a few weeks. He will shower you in kisses when you agree to bake for him, making sure to sit on top of the counter the whole time while you’re preparing the dough – kinda cheering you on and praising you for being so good to him. He would help you but he knows that it would only turn out for the worse if he raised a hand in the kitchen, which is why he simply enjoys your company and stays beside you until you’re done. His favorite thing about christmas is the cozy evenings he gets to spend with you – your body closely snuggled against his tall form while munching on cookies and talking about the most random things.

Screaming at the sky as if the Shogun herself could possibly hear him is a way to go for Itto; yet watching him scream at the sky that thunderstorms are boring as hell and how a snowstorm would be a nice alternation made you laugh and cringe at the same time. He often brags about how good he would be if he had the chance to start a snowball fight for once, his eyes sparkling like those of a little kid whenever he thinks about how much he would love a few snowy days. He actually tried to persuade you to have a ‘snowball’ fight with him – the only bad part about this being that he made his snowballs out of sand on the beach. The moment he raises his hand with the sand ball he can feel you glare at him and he will quickly drop the piece of stone and dirt to the ground – nagging you that you and him have to travel soon to see some snow together and that there’s not going to be any excuse for you to miss out on a snowball fight with him.

[sserpente]

Pastel Blue (Chapter 13)

Synopsis: After his lucky escape, the Tesseract takes Loki on new adventures–but unfortunately, his journeys through space do not go unnoticed and he soon ends up on the TVA’s radar. Working for them, albeit reluctantly, he keeps finding himself in the company of a young woman, Jess, who works in the linguistics department and who has a truly strange effect on him. Smitten by her confidence and smugness, he seeks her presence like a bee hunting for honey and lets her wreak havoc in his heart without really knowing why. But he is determined to find out. He means to escape his new prison anyway.

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A/N: Here we go! Another week, another update! Enjoy, everyone! ♥

Back in Fred’s lab, Jess had been holding back her tears ever since she’d found the energy to heave herself to work to not raise any suspicion. Betrayed. What else should she have expected? The TVA had not yet found out just how Loki had freed himself from the collar but truth be told… it was only a matter of time.

This was it. She wasn’t going to be put on probation again. Not for this. Not for helping a Variant of one of the beings who caused the TVA the most trouble. She’d be pruned. If she didn’t leave… then surely, she would die today.

As of right now, the whole of the TVA had been in an utter panic for the past hours. Mobius flew about from left to right, asking for news and any dividing branches, leaning over dozens of documents to figure out Loki’s potential hiding spot and when they finally found a branch, they were all quick to assume it must have been him.

Renslayer was already on the verge of madness, not the mention the poor Hunters and Minutemen she was chasing about like a drill instructor at the military. It was the perfect time to escape and yet, part of her couldn’t bring herself to leave. The TVA was her home.

“Jess!” Her blood froze, as did her whole body. Swallowing thickly, she turned around to face a spooked Loki starting towards her as if her very survival depended on the next few seconds. As soon as he was close enough, she drew back her hand and slapped him across the face, a satisfying sound of skin hitting skin echoing through the lab. That had felt good—she kind of wanted to do it again.

Loki briefly closed his eyes, letting the pain subside with a deep breath before looking her deep in the eye. Her heart skipped a beat, even more so when he gently took a hold of her upper arms. How he had made it past all the guards would remain a mystery to her. Why did he even come back?

“Jess, you need to listen to me.”

“No, you listen to me, you Asgardian piece of shit! I should have never trusted you. Fuck, I should have never let lust get the better of me. Fuck that connection between us, fuck you, fuck everything! What do you think they will do as soon as they count one and one together and realise it was me who let you escape? I have nowhere to go. The TVA was my home and you took that from me, how is it that you ruin everything you lay your hands on?!” She shrieked.

It was Odin who had something similar to him once, along with Mobius when he had first arrived at the TVA. Hearing it from Jess, however, felt like a dagger cutting his heart right out.

“Jess, please. Listen. I know you think I only shared my bed with you as a means to an end but that is not true.”

“Right, you’re telling me you weren’t just pretending to like me this whole time?” She retorted sarcastically.

“No, I…”

“Fuck off, Loki! What did you even come back for?”

“Jess! You are the Tesseract!” He interrupted her, gripping her tightly and pulling her even closer to him.

The linguist blinked at him, lips parting in utter shock. Bullshit. “Excuse me? What on Earth are you talking about? Is this another one of your tricks?”

“I met you. Well, not you—some sort of Variant of you. I used a TemPad to return to my alleged death, took the Tesseract and it brought me to New York in the 90s. It… she… found a way to regain her physical form. She is you.”

“That’s ridiculous.” She stammered. “How can I be an ancient and powerful artefact? An object? Don’t you think I would know? You know why I ended up here, my parents…”

“The TVA is lying to you. This connection that Mobius kept speaking of, his interest in our interactions together… he knew. He knew all along. Jess, we don’t have much time. We have to find your Variant and get out of here.”

Jess bit her lower lip. Was he telling the truth? This feeling… this feeling cooking up in her heart and consuming her entire body… it felt like Loki had just handed her a puzzle piece about herself on a silver platter. Something to make her whole again—and something that would explain her very being. The teleportation—portals—the multilingualism, even her love for Doctor Who…

“Tesseract… Tess… Jess… they didn’t even bother with my name, it seems.”

She was about to say something else when the heavy door opened and B-15, Mobius and Renslayer, along with a few serious-looking Minutemen and Hunters barged in. Mobius slowed them down with a swift movement of his hand, albeit did not stop them from aiming their prune sticks at Loki.

“Nowhere left to run, Loki. It’s time to give up.”

The God of Mischief reluctantly let go of her and turned to face them.

“Where is she?” He growled.

“She’s right here, Loki. Infinity Stones don’t work here, remember? We only found out recently what that meant. That the physical laws that apply to Variants of other beings don’t apply to the physical form of an Infinity Stone. Time tears itself apart in a place like this. The Variant you met in New York City, the one B-15 took back to the TVA, she no longer exists.”

Loki frowned. But they did work. Jess was able to use her powers. But it was a question that did not need answering. Because in her physical form, she was stronger than the whole of the TVA. Mobius had just found a clever way to suppress them with her earrings. Loki glanced at her ears. She had taken them off again.

“What are you saying?”

“The being you encountered in New York was an absolute point in time. We… we can’t say we didn’t try to override it like an old hard disk when you arrived at the TVA because I knew that would mean you’d escape and well… cause chaos, as usual.”

“So what, you kept her around as an experiment?”

“You’re twisting my words.”

Loki scoffed. “Oh? I remember someone else telling me that a long time ago and they ended up being one of the most manipulative and cruelest men of the nine realms.”

“So it’s true?” Jess interrupted, swallowing thickly. “I am really… the Tesseract?”

Mobius took a deep breath, letting a few painful seconds pass. “Yes. He’s not lying, for once.” Jess held on to the edge of the desk, her knees threatening to cease to support her any longer.

“Everything you told me… my whole past… It was all a lie? You made it all up?”

“We had to tell you something.”

“You reset me! You… you took my memories from me! Fuck you. Fuck you, Mobius! Fuck you!”

“Jess, please…”

“Don’t you dare call me that! It’s not even my real name, now is it?” She paused, taking in Mobius’ guilty expression. “Why did you keep me here in the first place? Why not prune me?”

“We can’t prune you. We tried. You’re an ancient being from before the existence of time. We… when we recruited Loki, we had to be sure neither of you finds out who the other is but that…” He took a deep breath. “That doesn’t mean we weren’t interested in how you would play out if confronted with one another.”

“Like a lab experiment,” she spat, repeating Loki’s words. Mobius shook his head.

“Loki causing your transformation back to a physical being already happened, that’s what an absolute point in time is all about, that is what was supposed to happen and that… created a time loop he keeps triggering with his presence here at the TVA. We tried to close it. If Loki had not created  an alternate timeline on the Arc where he died, we wouldn’t have taken you here.”

That’s why he had found him so quickly then. He’d known what diverging branch to look for. But there was another, far more devastating revelation.

“You knew… you knew this whole time that if you succeeded with closing that loop that I wouldn’t exist?”

“Yes. We had to. Your Variant creates portals that could drown the universe as we know it in chaos. It could potentially trigger a multiverse and the end of the proper flow of time.”

“You never truly cared about me then. You know, it all makes sense now. Why you kept me locked up and supervised like a goddamn criminal.”

“You’re a wild spirit, Jess. You needed security either way.” Mobius gave her a sly smile, a weak attempt to ask for forgiveness.

Jess glared at him, then exchanged a look with Loki, making up her mind there and then. She would go with him, wherever it was he was going to take her. Even if that meant he’d abandon her and that she’d be homeless. Escaping… escaping sounded tempting all of a sudden.

“That’s enough talking now. Let’s get this over with. Prune him.” Renslayer commanded. “And then reset her. I should have never allowed you to recruit this Loki in the first place, Mobius.”

“I thought you needed me.” Loki mused mockingly.

Renslayer snarled at him. “Our plans have changed.”

“Well, so did mine.” He growled. He shot Jess a knowing look and she understood. But was she truly ready? Where would they even go to? The portal she opened up swallowed them both within a fraction of a second, enveloping them both in hues of black and blue.

-

A/N: Be sure to let me know if you enjoyed this chapter and come say Hello on my Kofi! I really appreciate your support! ♥ ko-fi.com/sserpente

[shadowmaat]

Hello! I really love your writing, it's absolutely perfect! I've been thinking about this and I really wanted to your thoughts, if you don't mind! How do you think maul would react if obi doubted his feelings? Or vice versa? If this is a pain don't worry about it!!! ♡♡♡♡

Hello! I’m glad you love my stuff! ♥ As for the question... *cracks knuckles*

Let’s see... If Maul thought that Obi-Wan was having second thoughts about their relationship he would withdraw. 100%. Lots of angst and pain and self-recriminations along with a lot of deflective anger and trying to drive Obi-Wan away. Depending on the AU and timing, he might flat-out run away- sorry, I mean he’d leave this stupid mess behind because he never wanted it anyway! Hmph! He’d stew in his own doubts and self-recriminations. How could he have been stupid enough to think Kenobi might care about him? Ugh! Stupid stuck up Jedi! It was probably all some kind of trick!

Obi-Wan would be fighting an uphill battle to convince Maul that no, he really DOES care for him and it isn’t just an act or a trick; he wouldn’t do that! It’d almost be like starting over from scratch and rebuilding their trust, except harder this time. He’d likely have to be a lot more open about his feelings and about proving them. Hopefully he’d also recognize Maul’s lashing out for what it is and wouldn’t take it to heart and internalize it or he could wind up in a downward spiral of his own. It’d take a lot of slow, careful work, but his very determination to see this through and win Maul back would probably be part of what eventually convinces Maul that he might be serious.

The reverse would probably be even more of a disaster. If Obi-Wan thought Maul was having second thoughts he’d probably step back to try and give him more space, which would likely cause Maul to think Obi was the one losing interest and then send things spiraling out of control in all directions. LOL! It’d be an angsty terrible mess and a lot harder to sort out. Obi-Wan withdraws out of perceived politeness, which causes Maul to withdraw out of paranoia, which confirms Obi’s misconception, which fuels Maul’s anger and suspicions... In this case you’d probably need an outside party to bang their heads together and get them to JUST FUCKING TALK TO EACH OTHER, YOU NERFS.

Meanwhile... if you want to go for the potentially lighter stuff and say that Maul thought he somehow needed to “prove” his feelings to Obi-Wan? I can see him starting off offended at the idea that he needed to prove anything, but then he’d set off to make absolutely sure there was no doubt left in Obi-Wan’s mind about it. From shoving flowers in Obi-Wan’s face (because he heard flowers were a thing couples gave to each other), to pinning him to the mats at every opportunity during workouts, to leaving small gifts around and then denying all knowledge of them, I think Maul would ultimately see it as some form of combat where it takes a certain combination of moves in order to “win.” Though again, mileage varies depending on the AU. Sometimes Maul is more introspective and could go for more traditional methods (while still avoiding an actual declaration of love).

Obi-Wan would probably give gifts openly and would compliment Maul more often. I can see him being more touch-oriented, too, whether it’s just resting a hand on Maul’s arm or offering to give him a backrub or whatever. Or preening his wings, of course, in the Taking Flight AU. ♥ I don’t think either of them is good at actually SAYING how they feel (unless they’ve reached a point where there are no doubts and so this wouldn’t be an issue). 

Hopefully that answers your question. There’d be lots of angst, but potentially a lot of fun, too. If there were SINCERE doubts rather than a misunderstanding, that’d be a different kettle of kittens and whole different brands of angst. So many different avenues to explore! But in the end, if they’re lucky, they still wind up reaching the end together. :)

[ncttrashaf]

The End | Optional Bias Scenario

A/N - I couldn’t sleep last night, so this happened. I hope you all still remember us and this blog ♥ Our exams are almost suffocating but we will be more active soon! Love you all! - Admin Ayu

Genre: Angst Plot: You’re terminal and your husband is cheating on you, so you decide to let him go for good. POV: First Person Word Count: 832

I looked at your phone in my hand, and I looked at you. You were sleeping in the white couch, your body draped by the white sheet which resembles the ones I've been sleeping in for the past 24 months, slowly making my way toward my end.

  I wish I could smash that phone in your face, to scar your perfection so that the woman who had texted you that she loved you back could stop deluding herself that you could love anyone but me. But I was wrong. As I broke your trust and read your entire conversation with her, I realised that I had lost you to someone else, to a woman who was guaranteed a life longer than mine.

  At the beginning, I was just angry. Pure hatred ran through my veins and totally obliterated the thoughts of medicines which were constantly mixing with my blood then as I thought of how to rip you apart, how to use my notorious tongue to kill you inside and make you feel like the worst person to have ever stepped on this earth. I know that I am probably doing that to you already, but I was eager to ruin you even more. That night I couldn't sleep. It is better though, because if I had slept I'd have slept with anger and woken up with it inculcated in my wounded, fragile, dying soul. I stayed up, staring at your sleeping form, your eyes puffy from having cried with me before. No, I couldn't hurt you more. I couldn't kill you more. I couldn't take more from your life. Nor could I destroy the last hope of happiness you have in your heart, which you were more than hesitant to take up even following my demise.

  You didn't have to feel guilty for having fallen in love again while trying to shower this dying, useless, pathetic person with the same. You didn't have to feel guilty for finding radiance of hope from another star while this star, though now dimmer, was still to set. But I wanted to hurt you my own way before I let you go to search and find happiness where you had ensured it. I could quicken the process and break your heart to pieces, for I knew your new source of love and light could mend it even before I get to breathe my last.

  I called my mother in and told her about your extramarital affair. I told her, ensured her that you love me, but what you were receiving from me wasn't feeding your thirst. My mother understood and decided to just let you go, just like I did.

  When you came back last week with flower bouquet and open arms, I shifted away uncomfortably, inwardly wishing my bed was bigger. You shook it off as exhaustion on my part and went off to find the owner of the bag placed by the cupboard while I prepared my heart. I was going to let you go.

  When you found my mother and greeted her, all you were returned with was a cold glare. I chose to look out the window, for I could not look at you in the eye. I told you that I have found out, that I broke your trust when four words which we exchanged, "I love you, too.", flashed across your screen with an unknown number got better of my curiosity.

  When you apologised and professed your love for me for the umpteenth time, I said,

  "You love her, too."

  And you said nothing in return. Silence is a sort of reassurance, which I wish it were not. Then I could've changed my decision and hugged you to my chest. But it is not like that, it never was. Thus I wished you had spoke up and said something for the love you and I once shared.

  My mother gave you a packed luggage, all your belonging shoved in. She begged you to leave me be, her throat quivering with tears at bay but her eyes filled with rage and disgust, disbelief that the man she had once thought perfect for her child had then turned out to be the biggest traitor.

  It had been over 30 hours since my mother and I had thrown you out of my hospital room. I could still hear you crying as my phone vibrated with missed calls and message notifications. I know you want to love me and only me for the small amount of time left for us, but my self-love couldn’t let me oblige.

  It's been a week, and finally you're gone. You're now in the arms of the woman who's guaranteed with a life longer than mine. You'll get over me, you will move on. But, I am content knowing that I will always be there in the back of your mind.

  A long sigh leaves my dry lips as I smile. I've found peace, I can finally die. 

[eruden-writes]

The Unexpected Human Problem - Part 22 PREVIEW

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Confusion settled over Rayelle's thoughts at Tai'dqei's single word command. Run? Why? There wasn't any danger, any longer.

"Why? Zav's taken care of and no one else is-" Rayelle cast a wary look around, wondering if there were other dangers lurking in the shadows. Dangers that would make the yautja tell her to flee.

Tai'dqei took a step forward, barely restraining himself. A strong urge to grab Rayelle and bring her close to him bit along his arms. Under that urge, another seethed, desiring to lose himself inside her. To hear her sounds, while she was caught in the throes of pleasure. To feel her clench around him as her nails raked over his skin. Claws of instinct and heat sunk into him, threatening to tear his self-control apart.

"You. Hit. Me." He bit out each word, trying to put meaning into every syllable. Please, let her remember. Let her understand. Between the adrenaline of the fight and dispatching so many enemies, his instincts were riding hard in his head. Like rivers of sparking electricity, sinking deep into his muscles.

Her striking him, after everything, didn't help his self-control.

"It was an accide-!" Rayelle started to snap, before a memory of Tai'dqei's own words ricocheted through her head.

"One yautja mating ritual is meant to assess the capabilities of a mate by gaining their attention and then running. Challenging them to a different sort of hunt."

She wheeled her attention back to Tai'dqei, her heart skipping at the realization. He stood stiff, fighting something inside himself. Like a dog trying so hard to be good and not gobble up a treat. Heat flared up her body and warmed her face. Rayelle stared at him, in the fading in-and-out light. Tai'dqei was covered in blood of various hues, including his own. Scratches and dents marred his armor.

Before he even intercepted Zav, Tai'dqei had engaged with who-knew-how-many others. How many had he dispatched or incapacitated? How many had he tied up for others to deal with? How much victory had he seen and how did that play into his instinctive urges?

Her mouth fell open, snapped closed, before opening again to say something. But a small contingent of other humans scurried around the corner, each armed with some sort of makeshift weapon.

"Rayelle! What's going on?" Lisa demanded, hoisting a crowbar swiped from the staff's "infirmary." Her eyes wheeled around, seeking immediate dangers, overlooking the hulking armored alien and the grass-scented dead Florizian in the red-black lighting.

Before Rayelle could answer, Abe noticed Zav's decimated form. His free hand half-covering his mouth as the shovel he held in the other drooped. "Oh lord, what's that?"

"Forget that, who're they?" Bette pointed her rolling pin at Tai'dqei, suspicion painted across her features. She looked ready to attack if Rayelle said the word.

With eyes so wide, they nearly popped out of his face, a pale-faced Mizan softly gasped from behind Abe, "Is that a yautja?"

The appearance of the others eased the tension in Tai'dqei. Good. Their human audience dampened the hunger in him. Not entirely, but enough to keep him from straining against his own self-control.

"Are you all done now?" Rayelle snapped, her hands planted on her hips when there was a lull in the rapid-fire questions. When it appeared they were, she pointed to the yautja with her thumb. "That is Tai'dqei. The yautja that ferried me here."

"Him?" Sandra gasped, her eyes almost as wide as Mizan's. Though her expression couldn't exactly be considered fearful, Rayelle acknowledged, as the housewife's eyes certainly dipped down and up Tai'dqei's armored form.

Bette eased from her offensive stance, mirroring Sandra's assessing look before giving an appreciative hum.

Tai'dqei's mandibles flexed as they spoke, not noticing how the others stared at him. He was used to most humans fearing him, given history. And if these were time-displaced humans, their attention was going to be apprehension, no matter the situation.

No, his mind gnawed on the fact Rayelle had told the other humans about him. The only question was if it was good or bad. Likely both, he decided in an attempt to neither get too hopeful or too dire.

"What's going on, Tai'dqei?" Rayelle's question shook Tai'dqei from his thoughts.