#while my rational brain is like‚ but what has he DONE truly

[changbunnies]

All About You, (18+)

♡ Pairing: Royal Knight/Bodyguard!Minho x Princess!Reader

♡ Genre: royal au, historical au, arranged marriage au (reader only), age gap, angst, kind of forbidden love? (maybe more than kind of), basically porn with plot

♡ Word Count: 7.5k

♡ Summary: You, the princess who ran away from the castle after finding out your father, the king, has finalized your arranged marriage. Minho, your royal knight and glorified bodyguard, tasked with bringing you back home at all costs. When found, you hit Minho with a very interesting proposition- for him to be the one you share all your "firsts" with, instead of your inevitable husband.

♡ Warnings: age gap !! reader is ~23 while minho is in his 40s, please don't read if this makes you uncomfortable!, uneven power dynamics, outdated traditions and views on women to suit the setting, brief reference to death by guillotine, and death in general, mentions of injury and swordfighting

♡ Smut Warnings (contains spoilers): lowkey corruption kink, loss of virginity (reader), petnames (princess (mostly as a title), good girl), slight sub + dom dynamics, soft dom minho, submissive reader, a lot of kissing (should be expected from me atp), nipple play, oral (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), slight overstim, unprotected piv, multiple orgasms, creampie

♡ Notes: at this point i am determined to write a royal, historical au fic for every member, and my newest offering to you is minho <3 i was literally possessed writing this like once the idea hit my brain i had to get it out asap lmao you can also read the story on my ao3 here, and if you're interested you can also check out my fic rec and feedback blog @stray-dreams

♡ Disclaimer: please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people.

Fuck. Minho was absolutely fucked. In recent years, he had one job, and one job only, and that was to take care of the princess. Make sure she’s safe, escort her to where she needs to be and watch over her at all times- that’s all. Not always an easy job, but one of vital importance that Minho took with utmost seriousness. In the 3 years it’s been since becoming your royal knight and glorified bodyguard, he never messed up this critically. 

You always had a rebellious streak and challenged authority, everyone in the castle knew that. And part of Minho’s job, apart from keeping you safe, was keeping you in check- and the king made it extremely clear that failing to do so was not an option. So he lost track of the amount of times he uttered the words “Princess, please think rationally,” or “Please consider your responsibility to the kingdom, don’t do this,” in a near desperate attempt to get you to listen to reason. 

And today, he fucked up the worst he ever had. He knew you were upset tonight, but he was under the impression he successfully calmed you down, and that you wouldn’t do anything rash. He turned his back to you, thinking the storm had been quelled, and that you’d listen to your father, even if doing so felt like pulling teeth. He underestimated however, just how deep your sadness and anger truly ran, and the very moment you saw an opening, you took it. 

You fled from the castle with blind determination, nowhere to go and with little of value in your hands, fueled purely by the desire to escape your unfair circumstances, and live your own life by your own means. You may not believe it, but Minho understood, and felt for you- he really did. But that didn’t change what his duty was, and even if it made you hate him, he had to do his job to the best of his ability. 

So now here he was, roaming the streets looking for you, the hours passing in a blur. You must’ve done a good job of concealing your identity, because no one he asked had seen a young woman matching your description, and as the minutes ticked by, and sunset turned to midnight, he was at a complete loss of what to do. He made record time combing the entire bustling town, stopping into places full to the brim with people in the hopes he’d catch a glimpse of you in the crowd, and yet there seemed to be no trace of you anywhere. 

It was easy for someone to hide their presence in a crowd, or in the rowdy environment of a tavern, and you were more than intelligent enough to blend into a crowd and divert attention away from yourself. It was entirely possible that Minho had seen you at some point, and simply didn’t realize it, though he liked to believe he’d recognize you anywhere, no matter what you wore. Minho scowled, clenching his teeth as he scanned the dark horizon of the treeline; should he check the outer walls of the town for a clue, or double back and check the streets again?

He doubts you made it out of the town easily, considering you likely had no money on your person and little experience with the realities of the world. You were intelligent, yes, but sheltered; he could easily imagine you quickly getting in over your head, thinking you could make it to the next town without issue, only to end up lost and in need of help, with no one for miles to hear your desperate cries. 

Fuck. If he couldn’t find you, his head would most certainly be meeting the cold steel of a guillotine. He had no family who would mourn his loss, but still, he wasn’t ready to face his mortality. And the king, despite being someone he could call a close friend, would spare no mercy if he failed to keep his one and only daughter safe. But really, there was more to it than just the threat of death that kept him searching for you. Believe it or not, he genuinely wanted you safe and well, and he'd do anything to ensure you made it back home, even if it made you curse him for the rest of his days. 

As if God himself heard his prayers and decided to grant him a miracle, Minho sees you- there, on the outskirts of town, holding your cold hands up to your face and letting your breath warm them. It’s dark, the street barely even illuminated enough to discern your recognizable features, but he knows without a doubt that it's you standing there in the cold street, because truly, he knows you anywhere. 

By the time you realize you’ve been spotted and recognized, it’s already much too late to flee. Minho approached you with utmost haste, reaching out and grabbing your arm, lest you make the foolish decision to try to escape again. His hold, while not rough enough to hurt you, is firm, and it only takes one attempt at pulling your arm from his hold to know this is it; your escape attempt has failed, and you’ll be dragged back to the castle and reprimanded for your “temper tantrum.” 

Your father never listens to you, no matter how hard you try to make him understand and see your point of view. Maybe if you were born a boy, your opinions would be important to him, and he’d see you are more than an object to pawn off to whatever man gave him the most political power. “Princess-” “I’m not going home,” you interject before he even has a chance, though you already know it’s in vain. There is no avoiding returning to your glorified prison now that Sir Minho has you in his grasp. 

He sighs, but his face changes to one of sympathy, his grip on your arm loosening ever so slightly. “Can we at least go to an inn room? It’s not safe for a young lady to be on the streets at night,” he reasons with you, as gently as he can manage. Normally Minho is quite stern with you, but you get the impression that he feels being stern isn’t the right approach tonight. You’re known for expressing yourself very vocally, even when doing so is extremely ill-advised, and he is well aware of how opinionated and fiery you are. 

But treating this display as anything other than a genuine act of desperation, a culmination of years of perceived disrespect and conformity, would be another critical error- one he can’t afford to make. So he will be firm, yes, but gentle in his approach. You frown as you look at him; you’re stubborn by nature, and part of you wants to fight against him until the bitter end, but he’s not wrong about the streets being unsafe for you at night. You know he won’t let you escape again come morning, but that’ll have to be a problem for later; for right now, you really should heed his advice and go to an inn for the night. 

“Fine,” you concede, much to Minho’s relief. He could’ve forced you to go with him if he really needed to, but he’d rather avoid doing something so unpleasant. He leads you to a nearby tavern, which is still bustling with activity even at the late hour. He keeps you close as he pushes through the crowd of rowdy drunks to the dual innkeep-bartender, hoping that there is still a room available. The man departs, coming back with a key dangling in hand, “You’re in luck. Last room’s all yours.” 

Minho thanks the man and pulls out his satchel to pay him, leaving a few extra coins as a tip before stashing it back in his pocket, along with the key he was given, and the two of you go up the stairs together. “There’s only one bed,” you comment as you step inside the room, though Minho doesn’t seem to care much about that fact. “That’s fine, don’t plan on sleeping anyways,” he says as he removes his leather scabbard from his back, resting it against the back of the chair in the corner of the room. 

You frown as you sit on the bed and watch him; he must’ve been in a hurry when he received word you fled from the castle, as he wasn’t wearing any of his armor, strictly in casual wear you’d very rarely seen him in. Probably for the best, you think, because if anyone saw a royal knight desperately searching the streets, multiple alarms would be raised. He lights the fireplace, hoping to quickly spread some heat throughout the cold room, before he sits in the chair, crossing his arms and watching you carefully. 

Deserved, you suppose. How is he supposed to trust you’re not going to flee at the first available moment just as before? You certainly don’t make his job easy for him; he can’t take his eyes off you for a second. The silence between you lingers for some time, the crackling of the fire the only sound either of you hear, apart from the muffled patrons enjoying their drinks downstairs. Minho, despite his relaxed posture, looks like he’d be ready to jump up at a moment's notice should he need to. 

You sigh; should you just try to sleep? It’d feel awkward and uncomfortable to try to fall asleep with someone's eyes boring holes into you, but you really didn’t give him much of a choice. “Do you want to tell me why you ran away from the castle?” Minho asks suddenly, breaking the tempered silence between you. “You already know the answer to that,” you respond, crossing your own arms now. 

“Is marrying Sir Jin really so bad?” he asks, and you scoff, rolling your eyes. “Yes, obviously. I don’t want to. Not that you or my father care about me or anything I think.” Minho’s brow furrows, the frown on his face growing. “Princess, you know that’s not true. I do care about you.” “Do you? I haven’t been able to tell in the slightest,” you counter a bit harshly, “and you could help me if you wanted to, you know. I’d be fine out there if I was with you.”

Okay, maybe you’re not being fair to Minho right now. You do know he cares, but realistically, what is he supposed to do? If he disobeyed your fathers orders, he’d be lucky if his only punishment was a swift death. He was assigned to you because your father trusts him to do the right thing and follow orders dutifully, a trust that is usually not misplaced. But he has to admit, the more and more time he spends with you, the more he feels for you. 

Minho never knew your father, the king, to be an unreasonable or cruel man, but in your eyes, he might as well be the devil himself. And maybe he is cruel- because how do you strip someone of their freedom and choices for your own gain, and not see the harm it causes, the wrong in it? You are more than a pawn, more than a subject, more than his daughter- you are a person. A person with thoughts, feelings, and opinions as real as any mans, who did not deserve to be treated lesser than for the simple crime of being born a girl. 

But what is Minho if not an upholder of the status quo? He was just a single man, and even if he recognized how unfairly you were treated in comparison to the golden child that was your elder brother, what was he supposed to do? He always performed his tasks dutifully and without question, and it wasn’t until he met you that he began to struggle with what he should do, and what he wants to do.

And maybe he could get you out of this town, help you live a quiet, modest life somewhere new, away from the watchful eye of your father. Where he could be your protector, same as now, but without the guilt, burden, or threats. You know you shouldn’t take your frustrations about your life out on Minho, but he’s really all you have. You trust him with your life, and he’s shown you multiple times that he cares about you beyond the duty he has to you, or to your father. He's your only confidant, the only person in the world you can rely on. 

Your eyes linger on the scar across his nose- he got it protecting you, the other man’s sword barely missing his eyes and cutting just across his face, and it was only one of many scars he obtained in his service to you. He’d pick you up and run with you in his arms when you were injured, he’d fight off attackers without breaking a sweat, sustain injury after injury all to make sure you were safe. You’d watch his back, always stunned and mesmerized at the ease at which he cut down your enemies, as if they were nothing but paper. 

When he’d turn back to you, breathing heavy and sweat only just starting to trickle on his brow, his eyes would turn from the harshest winter chill to the gentle warmth of a spring morning. He was quiet, stern, but his care ran far deeper than one would think just by looking at him, and all you had to do to see the true depth of his feelings was look in his eyes. So you knew it was unfair to accuse him of not caring about you, to expect him to go above and beyond for you, to ask that he go against your father to give you what you want, but you were just so sad, frustrated, angry, that you couldn’t stop yourself.

“Maybe you’ll grow to love him if you give him a chance,” Minho suggests; you both know that’s never going to happen, but what else can he say? He never married, and had no children, dedicated to his duty as he was; he had no real advice to offer someone when it came to love, romance, and the like, but he imagined it wasn’t impossible to fall in love if you just met Sir Jin with an open mind.

But as stated, that’s never going to happen. You’re stubborn to a fault, and once you’ve decided something, there’s no changing it. The best Minho can ever manage to do is get you to reconsider, but even then, you’re still likely to go about things the way you originally wanted to, with no regard for consequences or keeping up appearances. You’re a fiery woman, there was no doubt about it, and you don’t let go of things easily. 

“The mere thought of giving that man all my firsts makes me sick, it’s vile,” you scrunch up your nose, making your distaste for the man very clear. Minho doesn’t even think you’ve actually met the man yet, but you’ve already decided you hate him, that you don’t want to marry him, and so you’ll be firmly stuck in your opinion no matter what anyone says. 

“Maybe this isn’t advice I should be giving you, but.. You don’t necessarily have to. To give him your firsts, or love him. Find someone you do love, even if you have to keep it a secret, and hold him with all you’ve got. It still wouldn’t be ideal, of course, but.. Well, it’d be something, at least.” Really, Minho is supposed to encourage you to be an obedient daughter and listen to your father without question, but he knows you well enough to know that’s a fool's errand. 

You’re never going to listen, never going to be obedient, never going to stop being opinionated. So what’s the next, most realistic piece of advice he can give? Lie, of course. Make your father and inevitable husband believe you’re a good, obedient wife and daughter, and then go live the life you really want behind their backs. It's dishonest as all hell, and there would be consequences if you got caught, but if you’re going to be miserable no matter what you do, you might as well try, right? It’s what Minho would do if he were you, anyways. 

“What about you?” you ask and Minho raises a brow in question. “What about me?” he asks, and what you respond with makes him feel like the air has been punched out of his lungs. “What if I gave my firsts to you?” Did he hear you right? There must be some mistake with his ears, there’s absolutely no way you said what he thinks you did. “You.. what?” Surely you can’t be serious about this. You’re the princess, and he’s just the man who happens to be your guard, a man who is your fathers age at that. 

But the way you look at him, he can tell you’re not joking in the slightest. “Princess, I couldn’t possibly accept that,” Minho says sternly, his arms no longer crossed but instead resting on the arms of the chair, hands beginning to grip tightly so he can ground himself and try to make sense of this insane situation. “Why not? I’d be happier if I gave it to someone like you. I trust you,” you say so nonchalantly it makes his head reel. What the fuck is happening right now? 

Minho was the ideal man, at least in your opinion. He was handsome, mature, realistic and practical, knew how to reel you in without disregarding the root of what you feel or being disrespectful to you. He never dismissed how you felt, made you feel over emotional or like a fool who overreacts; he’d ask you to see reason, sure, urge you to think more before acting, but he never, never made you feel like your feelings were invalid. And he genuinely cared about you, and you liked him, were attracted to him, so if the opportunity presented itself then.. Why not take the chance? 

Fuck. Minho was absolutely fucked. You were just freshly 20 when Minho first met you and became your guard, and hard as he tried to never see you beyond the platonic, he’s always viewed you as an attractive young woman. He liked your fiery spirit, liked how you had the bravery and gall to challenge authority, a skill that in recent months he felt he was sorely lacking. Your attitude was refreshing, and despite your circumstances, you never acted like a damsel in need of his help. 

In a different life, in another world, maybe you two could have met as equals, not painfully stuck to the rules of an unfair, unforgiving reality. You’d be each other's foil, you, the impassioned dreamer with as many thoughts and ideas as there were stars in the sky, and he the realist, who didn’t dim your light but tempered it into a steady, sustainable flame. You’d take him out on adventures, out of the strict box of his comfort zone, and he’d ground you more firmly to reality, never discouraging your dreams but making sure you took the necessary steps in the right way, responsibly, matching one another perfectly, complementary and meant for each other. 

But that’s not your reality, and you both know it. There would never be any coming back from this if you go through with it, and there’s no ideal, happy future for you two to share. “I’m not so disillusioned to think this would be anything other than sex for you,” you continue, and he swallows, mind still racing impossibly, “but it’d be much more meaningful for me with you than some bastard I don’t like in the slightest.” 

You’re wrong. So wrong, and you don’t even know it. It would never be “just sex” with you. You mean much, much more to him than you even realize. “You won’t regret asking a man like me? There’d be no taking it back once it’s done,” Minho can’t help but ask, rationality and reason desperately trying to gain control. 

Despite what your father may believe, you’re a grown woman capable of making your own decisions. And this is a decision you make with full knowledge of what it means for you, more than willing to accept whatever consequences may arise for committing such a sin. In an ideal world, you’d be allowed to love who you wish, live where you wish, do what you wish. 

But this isn’t an ideal world, and if there is only one thing you can ever be granted in this life that feels as if it isn’t even your own, it would be this- to have one night, just one night, where you can be the person you want to be, with Minho by your side. “You’re free to reject me if you’re not attracted to me, but.. My only regret would have been not trying. So I ask, are you not attracted to me?” 

He looks you over carefully, grip on the armrests tightening. Admitting that he’s attracted to you may as well be a death sentence. But he can’t lie to you, completely at your mercy. Fuck the king, it’s you he’s really loyal to. All he’s ever done, all he ever will do, it’s always for you. He’s always tried to act in your best interest, to do the right thing, to keep you safe and protected. But does keeping you safe even matter if you’re miserable? 

“I am,” Minho swallows, answering honestly despite his better judgment, “You have no idea how attracted to you I am.” “So why hesitate?” you ask, fingers trail down your lap, over your knees, to where the very bottom of your dress lies. He watches you, eyes darting from your hands back to your face. You’re watching him too, carefully, considering his every reaction before you make your next move, impressively calculated. 

You take the hem of your dress in your hands, pulling it up leisurely, getting it halfway up your thighs, and Minho is in front of you in an instant, his hands grabbing your wrists and stopping you from lifting it any further. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Princess,” he breathes, voice low and strained; he can’t lose control of his desires, but fuck, you’re making it so hard. You look up at him, meeting his gaze with the same fiery determination you always have, but there’s more there than just that this time. Desire, want, need- all for him.

Fuck it. He’s going to get burned, but maybe it’s worth it. You’ll be his funeral pyre, engulfing him in your flame until all that remains are the ashes of the man he was supposed to be. And what a beautiful way to end his life it will be, lost between your thighs, feeling your nails dig and claw at his skin. He lets go of your wrists, one of his hands coming to cup your face, thumb tracing over your bottom lip. 

“Has anyone ever kissed you, Princess?” he asks and you give a slight shake of the head, breathing a soft “No..” He hums, and there’s a twisted sort of pleasure he derives from knowing he’ll be your first in every conceivable way. You’re not “innocent,” he knows you’re not, but there’s something about being your first kiss, your first cock, your first everything that makes him crazy. 

“And you want me to be the first one to kiss you?” he follows up with another question, corners of his mouth threatening to twist into a smile when you nod, a soft, honest “yes” leaving your lips effortlessly. He leans down towards you, keeping your head tilted up so he can easily meet your lips. He does so softly, treating you with care. His lips are softer than you expected, and the feeling of them against your own fills you with butterflies. 

He carefully tilts you back, and you let your body fall back onto the mattress, head hitting the surprisingly soft pillows. Minho crawls over you, spreading your legs apart just enough to get between them, your dress now hiked all the way up your thighs. He’s hovering over you, looking down at you with so much love and lust and that it leaves you speechless. “I’ll need you to listen to me tonight. Can you do that for me?” he asks, pressing light kisses to your jaw, under your ear, your neck. 

You can, because it’s Minho. He’d never hurt you, never try to control you, never make you feel lesser than. So you can listen to him, because you trust him with your care; he’ll take good care of you, you know he will. He smiles when you nod, and you see him smile so rarely that it makes your heart skip a beat; his role always requires him to be so stern and straight faced, that seeing him smile down at you like this is enough to melt you into a puddle. 

“You’re a good girl when you want to be, hmm?” he hums against your neck, resuming his trail of kisses against your skin, and you can’t explain why, but the words and tone he says them in makes your stomach flip. If you were in a different world, and didn’t have to return home to the castle tomorrow, he’d take his time marking your neck, filling it with pretty shades of blue, purple, and red, sinking his teeth into your soft, supple skin.

He just knows you’d look so pretty like that, and the way you react when his breath tickles your skin and his lips linger, tells him you’d like it too. His fingers trail down your body, finding the hem of your dress and pulling it up over your chest. You lift your back off the bed when he separates from your neck, pulling your dress off the rest of the way and discarding it to the floor. He kisses you as he fiddles with the straps of your bra, effortlessly unhooking it in the back and pulling it down your arms and off your body. 

He may have never married, but he’s no stranger to being with and pleasuring women. And he’ll make sure he makes this a night you’ll always remember for all the right reasons. Capturing your lips in another kiss, his hands take in your now bare breasts, gently kneading and squeezing. You try to squeeze your legs together, but his place between your thighs stops the act from happening, and he chuckles against your lips when he realizes what you’re doing. 

“Be patient, Princess, I’ll take good care of you,” he whispers before kissing you again, and you let out a small whine, not knowing exactly what you want but knowing you want something. You gasp when he takes your nipples between your fingers and pinches them, not too hard of course, but enough to give him the chance to slip his tongue into your mouth. Your body shudders, you feel dizzy with pleasure and excitement, and the feeling of his tongue circling yours is impossibly intoxicating. 

One of his hands travels down, over your stomach, coming between your bodies to feel your heat over your panties. He’s barely even begun and you’re already soaking the fabric, your eager anticipation for more of his touch palpable beyond all else. He nips at your bottom lip, gently tugging it between his teeth before soothing the sting with kitten licks, his hand slipping inside your panties to feel how slick you’ve gotten directly. 

Your body jolts when his fingers run between your folds, and he barely has to move them at all to get his fingers completely coated in your juices. He pulls back to look at you, taking in the sight of your flushed face and swollen lips, pretty and perfect. You’re panting, breathless, overwhelmed in the best way possible. You keen when his fingers rub over your clit in circles, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you lift your head from the pillows to watch. 

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” he asks, suppressing a grin when you whine and quickly nod your head. “Want more, want you,” you mutter, the most timid you’ve ever been in regards to a man. He coos, giving you a sweet kiss as he continues his stimulation to your sensitive spot. “Remember what I said? Patience, Princess, you’ll get what you want. We can’t rush and have you getting hurt, can we?” 

You pout as you concede, and God, he finds that so cute; he’s never seen you actually act shy and pouty before, and it makes him want to give you the entire world. He’ll give you everything you want, anything you ask for, but he’ll have to remember to tease you first so he can see that cute expression on your face before he gives in to your whims. “I’ll make sure you’re nice and ready for my cock, so just be a good girl and follow my lead until then. You can do that for me easily, can’t you?”

Another shy nod, another adorable flushed look that makes his cock throb in his trousers. It was a little intimidating for you, knowing how experienced Minho must be due to his age, and feeling like you must fall short in comparison to other women, women who knew what they were doing, but really, that was just your own insecurity talking. He didn’t mind at all that you were inexperienced; in fact, it excited him for reasons he didn’t entirely understand. 

Maybe it was the knowledge that he was the first to touch your skin, or maybe that someone as determined and fiery as you are is allowing yourself to concede control, to let him be in charge of your pleasure, trusting him to bring you to utmost bliss. What bigger display of trust could you ever show him? Your glassy, pleading eyes, begging him for more but still waiting for it just as he asked- you’re too good for him. He’s going to ruin you. 

He takes his fingers away, and you have to physically stop yourself from whining at the lack of contact, lest he remind you again about “being patient.” “Open your mouth for me,” Minho requests, and though you are a bit confused, you do as he asks immediately, obeying without question. Fuck, that’s hot; the image of you, mouth open, tongue slightly sticking out and waiting to receive whatever he gives you is something he never wants to forget. 

Minho slides two of his fingers into your mouth, instructing you to lick, to get his fingers nice and wet. Truthfully, you were more than lubricated enough to take his fingers without this step, but he couldn’t resist the urge to see you this way. He pushes his fingers in your mouth down to the knuckle, and you persist with coating them in your saliva even as you gag and tears prick the corners of your eyes. 

He showers you with praise, slipping his fingers out of your mouth when he feels satisfied with the work you’ve done on them, kissing your cheeks, feeling the heat of your face on his lips. Slipping his hand back inside your panties, he presses the tips of his wet fingers to your hole, and you instinctively suck in a breath, body unconsciously tensing from the anticipation. “You have to relax, Princess, it won’t feel good if you’re tense,” he explains sweetly, shaking his head when you mutter a soft apology. 

“Don’t be sorry, not for that. Just focus on me, hmm? On this,” he whispers, his lips lingering on yours in a deep, impassioned kiss. His fingers stay completely still until he feels your body start to release its tension, heeding his advice to focus more on his kisses than the motion of his fingers. He keeps kissing you even as the first of his fingers finally starts to push inside you, and you moan into his mouth, hot pleasure licking your skin. 

He moves his finger in and out slowly, making sure you’re well adjusted before he pushes in another one, hooking his fingers to find that delicious sweet spot he knows will have you crying his name in no time. You gasp loudly when he finds it, your hands twisting the sheets beneath you between your fingers, your entire body trembling. It feels so good you almost can’t breathe, and when he picks up his pace, hitting your spot over and over as he brings his thumb to your clit, you know you won’t last long at all.

“M-Minho, I’m- I’m gonna-” you try to warn him, but the words die in your throat, the pleasure too overwhelming to continue to try and form a sentence. He simply hums, continuing his motions until your eyes are rolling to the back of your head, sharp, shuddery gasps and moans tumbling from your lips as your orgasm takes you. “That’s it, just let go, just like that, I’ve got you,” he praises, pressing kisses to your hot skin, helping you ride out your high.

Before you can even fully recollect your breath and get your racing heart back under control, he’s pushing a third finger inside, the trembling in your body intensifying from the addition. “You need more to get ready for me,” he tells you, and in your fucked out state all you can do is nod, taking his word as gospel truth, “need to stretch you good to make sure my cock fits.” All you can do is lay there and take the onslaught of pleasure, unable to think of about anything other than how full and good his fingers make you feel. 

You don’t even register that he’s moved your down your body and tugged your panties to the side until his tongue is meeting your clit, swirling around it in expertly practiced circles, making you desperately cry out his name. Your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging harshly as your hips buck up to keep feeling the delicious sensation his tongue provides you. He flattens his tongue and lets you grind against it as you want, the motions of his fingers not stuttering or ceasing despite the movement of your hips. 

You feel the familiar heat pooling your stomach, another orgasm approaching quickly, the sounds you release turning into desperate whines and whimpers as you chase the feeling. It only takes a few more rolls of your hips and thrusts of his fingers to have you releasing all over his face, your juices gushing around his fingers. He sits up and pulls his fingers out when your body falls limp, chest heaving and ears ringing as you try to recover from the mind-blowing experience you just had. 

Your eyes are closed, and you can feel his weight shift, can hear the soft clink of his belt unbuckling, followed by the rustling of clothes. You open your eyes to see Minho’s cock is now out, his hand lazily pumping it and spreading the pre-cum that accumulated and dripped over his time focusing on you. You reach a hand out to touch it, to replace his hand with your own, but he grabs your hand before you can, instead making you intertwine your fingers. 

“Tonight’s all about you, Princess. Don’t worry about taking care of me,” he says, kissing the back of your hand and then holding it down right above your head; you’re not quite pinned, easily able to snake your hand out of his hold if you wanted to, but you have to admit, you like the feeling of his hand keeping yours held down. He rubs his cock between your folds before he lines himself up with your entrance, though you didn’t miss the subtle smirk on his face when you whined from the feeling of his tip rubbing against your clit.

“Squeeze my hand if you need to,” Minho tells you before taking your free hand and bringing it up to his shoulder, “and hold onto me.” Your heart squeezes in your chest; the hidden romantic in you yearns to tell him you love him, to thank him for taking such good care of you, to express how you never want this night to end, but you know that would be a mistake. Neither of you can afford to let your emotions spill out, so you swallow them down the best you can, deciding to just live in this moment, to experience it for all that it is and all that it means for you.

The initial push is slow, and thanks to his diligent preparation, there is little physical pain or discomfort you experience from the stretch of his cock. A slight sting, sure, but nothing you can’t easily handle, and it’s barely even recognizable when compared to the pleasant fullness you feel. So when you squeeze his hand, and your eyes well with tears, it’s not because you are pained; it’s because you finally have something you want, a happiness you thought would forever elude you.

He takes his free hand and wipes away the tears from your eyes, a soft look of concern on his face. “Hurts?” he asks, but you shake your head quickly. “Feels good, I just.. I..” you struggle with the words, knowing you can’t express how you actually feel even if you felt you could. “I know. You don’t have to say it, I know,” Minho speaks to you softly, and the kiss he gives you very nearly makes you sob.

There’s still a few inches left before he’s fully inside you, and he pushes the remainder in slowly as he continues to kiss you, his free hand now rubbing soothing circles on your hip with his thumb. Minho does well at maintaining composure, staying firmly in control of himself and his body despite the way your walls squeeze and suck him in, despite the way you whimper when you feel him throb, or cry out against his lips when his tip kisses your deepest spots.

“That’s a good girl, taking all I give you, doing so well,” he praises you some more, and you love when he tells you how good you’re doing if the way you clench around him is any indicator. “Fuck, Princess-” he groans when he finally starts to move, pulling out and pressing back in much more slowly than he normally would, but the wet friction you provide him is delicious. “Minho, I-” you start, interrupted by a sharp gasp when he finds your sweet spot with his cock.

He looks at you as he stills his hips, patiently waiting for you to continue in case what you have to say is important, or a request for him to stop. You swallow, face heating up but determined to get out what you want to say. “J-Just this once, I don’t want to be the princess. Call me by name, please-” Oh, that’s what you want? He can do that, easily; he’s already groaned your name countless times in the privacy of his room, stroking his cock to the thought of you.

The sound of your name falling from his lips as he resumes the thrust of his hips has you clenching hard, stars erupting in your vision as he picks up his pace, beginning to quickly and mercilessly hit your spot, over and over again. He takes one of your legs and props it up over his shoulder, allowing more of his cock to fill you up, the creaking of the bed and the sound of skin slapping beginning to overpower the noise from downstairs.

Taking his other hand away from yours, you’ll have to forgive him, he licks his fingers and then brings them to your clit, wanting nothing more than to see and feel you release on his cock. It only takes a few more thrusts and circles from his fingers to have you crying out his name as you cum, fingers digging into the sheets beneath you as your body shakes and legs tremble. But Minho hasn’t cum yet, so he’s not quite done with you, not that you mind in the slightest; you’ll let him chase his pleasure as long as he wishes, even if it leaves you a drooling, fucked out mess in the end.

He pulls out of you, just long enough to sit against the headboard, and then he’s pulling you on top of him, guiding you to sink back down on his cock and sit fully in his lap. The new position has you rolling your eyes to the back of your head, Minho guiding the movement of your hips with his hands as he thrusts up into you. He’s quite literally doing all the work, but that’s perfectly fine; this night is supposed to be about you, after all, and he doesn’t want you to lift a pretty little finger. Just let him use you a little until he cums, that’s all he needs.

You’re panting against his neck, head laid on his shoulder and nails digging into the skin of his back beneath his shoulder blades. The sting of your nails in his skin is just how he imagined it to be, and his head is falling back against the headboard, low grunts and groans of your name leaving freely as his cock throbs and twitches, getting closer and closer to his release. He uses one of his hands to grab your face and lift it up to his, crashing his lips to yours in a desperate, impassioned display of love and lust.

A few more snaps of his hips and you feel his cum spurting inside you in long, thick ropes, the sensation sending you forward into yet another orgasm of your own, your desperate sounds muffled only by Minho’s mouth on yours. Your body collapses against his when the moment slows to a stop, both of your chests heaving and breaths heavy as you lie against him, his arms wrapped around you snuggly and keeping you upright against his chest. 

You can hear the quick, erratic beating of his heart as he catches his breath, looking up at him to see his eyes closed and sweat trailing down his brow towards his cheek. He looks beautiful like this, you think; you hope he thought the same of you. Even as his cock starts to soften, neither of you move, and though your legs protest and beg to be stretched out, you refuse to leave your spot on Minho’s lap.

“Are you alright, Princess?” he asks once he’s collected himself, pushing your hair from your face and wiping the sweat from your brow. “Mhm, just want to stay like this,” you reply, and Minho smiles softly, rubbing over your shoulders and down your back in a sweet gesture of comfort. You’re silent like this for some time, just simply enjoying the feeling of him, the sound of the crackling fire, the warmth he and this room provides you.

“Does my happiness really have to end here?” you can’t help but quietly ask, and Minho is quiet for a moment, carefully considering before he speaks. In a different world, in a different time, in a different place, maybe the two of you are meant to be. There’s comfort in imagining yourself there, truly happy with Minho, letting him care for you while not snuffing out the flame that is your pride, ambition, and spirit.

It’s not meant to be, you both know that to be true. To be with each other required great risk, sacrifice, hardship. But again he has to wonder, is being safe worth the cost of happiness? Would you even truly be “alive” if your every moment was spent miserably? He doesn’t want to see the very core of what makes you you be snuffed out by selfish, idiotic men and their expectations of what you should be.

You’re much younger than him, and it would be impossible for him to be there for you for the rest of your life, but he can be for the rest of his, at least. “Maybe not,” he answers, unsure of what the future holds for the two of you, but not entirely ready to give up so easily. He could accept his fate, accept that love is something out of his reach, but it’s your happiness on the line that makes him want to fight for it. 

There’s a lot he could lose by helping you escape this life you feel trapped in, but he’d rather see you happy than wasting your days away in the castle, subservient to a man you loathe. Your love isn’t meant to be, but that’s okay; he’ll help you all the same. He’s loyal to you, and only you, he’s decided- so if you make your future husband, your father, the entire kingdom your enemy, then they’ll be his enemy too. And it’ll all be worth it just to see you smile for a little bit longer.

#skz x reader #lee know x reader #lee minho x reader #skz smut #lee know smut #lee minho smut #skz imagines #skz scenarios #not me posting a fic again literally 4 days after my last one i am serious when i say i was possessed to write this #also not posting between the hours of 4-7am for once that is a win for me !! #mdni + divider graphic credit: @cafekitsune

[mikareo]

⌗ ROMANTICISM ₊ ˖ ་. rin itoshi x fem reader (4k)

⊹ ⠀⠀ there are so many words he wishes he could take back, and he realizes now that he loves you. he loves your colorful laugh, beauty, and passion - all he needs now, is to tell you...and say those three little words. (part two of rationalism - must must read first!!!)

contains; colorblind!rin, painter!reader, rin’s mom is reader’s art mentor, rin hates art, strangers to friends to lovers, swearing, immense fluff, , kissing, extremely inaccurate depictions of colorblindness, happy ending!!! author's note; this was originally supposed to end with reader getting into a car accident and d-wording the day of her art gallery...but i changed my mind :D

He misses you. He can’t help it, but he does. 

The memories he has with you are a cassette tape on autoplay - constantly running through his mind on repeat, and always ending with the awful confrontation that you’d left each other with. Rin wishes he hadn’t raised his voice. He wishes that he would’ve been honest with you from the very beginning, but he hadn’t, and there’s no changing the past. All he has now are two empty hands that would much rather be interlaced with your paint-covered fingers. 

“How much longer do you think you’re going to be moping?” Sae’s call is distant from the turning gears within Rin’s brain. He’s sure that his brother has grown tired of his constant state of melancholy - having been forced to be his support system after you walked out the door - and Rin feels awful about it. If he could, he’d rip his heart from his chest and allow you to step on it. To stomp and tear through the organs just as you’d done to those poor bystanding cherry blossoms on the sidewalk. 

“As long as she’s still upset with me.” He groans as his forehead hits the marble of the island counter. “I’m such an idiot.”

“Yeah, well we already knew that.” The dim-eyed boy beside him scoffs while taking yet another drink of his apple juice - which he has unfortunately had to drink for the past hour and a half since Rin had somehow consumed his small supply of alcohol within the past few weeks that the two of you hadn’t been speaking. “I was really rooting for you, man. I thought she was the one to break your cycle.”

“Cycle?”

What the hell does he mean by ‘cycle’?

“Oh, you know,” Sae continues without even taking a breath, “The cycle of life you’ve got going on with your inability to actually attract girls.”

Rin hates him.

“You’re an asshole.” He grumbles, taking his own swig of the pint of orange juice he found in the back of his fridge. Is it expired? Likely yes. Does Rin care, at all? Definitely not. Is he even more pissed off that he doesn’t understand the irony of why it’s called orange juice? He doesn’t want to answer that question. “An unhelpful asshole who should definitely stay over and cook dinner for me since he wants to make up for being said ‘unhelpful asshole’.”

Sae scoffs, shaking his head whilst the thin, soft strands of his hair flit back and forth. His right eyebrow raises in a mocking expression, “You need to get yourself back out there, man. You’ll be old and grey if you keep waiting for the perfect girl to come knocking on your door, so just talk to her. Just fucking talk to her and put me out of my misery.”

“Are you trying to make this about you, right now?” Rin stares at his best friend in utter disbelief, but he’s not truly upset. He knows that Sae holds good wishes for him in all manners of life - this being no exception - and takes his words to heart. He’s right. Of course, he’s going to lose you if he doesn’t even try to get you back. “The sun must be falling out of the sky because I’m actually considering following your advice.”

“That’s a pretty picture to imagine,” his older brother chuckles, causing Rin to roll his eyes. What’s the sensation that everyone has with mentioning imagery every five seconds? “Just talk to her, man.” Sae continues, “Please, I’m all out of advice.”

Rin takes his brother’s pleas to heart. It is quite ridiculous that he’s spending his time depressed and lonesome when he could be reconciling with you. Perhaps it’s his fragile masculinity acting out and refusing to take blame for the situation, although he’s fully aware it’s completely his fault that you’re upset with him. 

It’s difficult for the gears to begin turning in Rin’s head. They’re covered in brittle rust that’s been creeping deep into the crevices of his mind for his entire life - slithering down his spine towards his blackened heart that you had only just begun to breathe life into. He misses the feeling of spring that came when you called. The freshwater rain of your laughter and budding blossoms of your smile that washed away his loneliness and replaced the awful emotion with an overgrown garden of bliss. He still doesn’t understand how he managed to mow that garden down with one sentence. He might as well have taken a chainsaw and brutally hacked into every connection that he’d managed to make with you in your time of knowing each other. 

Now he’s going to be on his knees begging for forgiveness with his hands stained by the minced grass. Does grass stain green or yellow? Hopefully not brown, dear lord. He’ll be buried deep into apologies that should definitely be rehearsed, but he knows he’s not an artist with words and he won’t bother to waste your time with crumpled-up ‘I’m sorry’ notes and improvised tears. 

You deserve nothing but the best - so much more than he’s been giving you and he needs you to hear those words come straight from his mouth. 

When did you begin to mean so much to him? Rin doesn’t even know. 

It could’ve been when you showed up to his game unannounced, with first row seats and a booming cheer that he never knew he desired. ‘C’mon number ten! I know you can do better than that! Beat their asses, Rin!’ He nearly tripped at the sound of your voice, and falling on his face was the last thing he wanted to do in front of Isagi - but to be completely honest, he doesn’t remember much of his qualms with his rival from that day. Rin was solely focused on playing well for you. The world stopped and he was given all the time needed to impress you. You give him a reason to be better, a selfless reason to do good. 

Perhaps it was when you’d shown him around your homey apartment, with maple art easels and splattered canvases lining the walls, and watched with glee as he made his best attempt at a finger painting (which may or may not have ended up looking like two worms kissing). ‘It’s abstract’, you’d say every time he found something new that was wrong with the art piece, ‘All it needs is a home. See?’ You hung his shitty little sketchbook paper on your living room wall, right next to your TV for the whole world to see. The way you stood there staring in awe still rattles his brain. You’ve always been able to find beauty in even the smallest things. 

Or maybe his heart had begun to beat a little faster that Saturday night on the way out of the theater. The romance of the film the two of you just witnessed was still on Rin’s mind, provoking his alcohol-induced body to make a pathetic attempt at holding your hand - which resulted in him accidentally knocking you over into a street puddle that swallowed the heel of your shoe. ‘I needed to take a shower anyway, Rin, it’s fine!’ Your smile continued to be bright despite the low temperature and sprinkling rain, and he can recall wondering how you managed to stay so positive in such a dreary situation. As you discarded your soggy heels into a nearby trashcan and skipped barefoot on the pavement, you called, ‘Come on! Dance with me!’ The shared laughter between the two of you echoed through the seemingly empty streets that surrounded you - hands connected as you swung in circles around each other and fell over one too many times, until he carried your sleeping body home. He doesn’t think anyone’s ever been able to make him laugh as hard. 

The way the corners of your eyes crinkle amidst fits of giggles is his favorite image to replay. He doesn’t need to know the color to be able to see how beautiful they are - to appreciate the blinding sparkle that overwhelms your irises when he accidentally trips over the uneven sidewalk or knocks over your painting station - or even when he unintentionally makes a sexual innuendo that you just so happen to pick up on. ‘That’s a love hotel, Rin! Why would I have stayed there before?’ It was almost as if you were conducting a symphony of glorious laughter that night. The violins played the tune of your voice in a higher octave and the cellos added a punch everytime you’d bite your lip in an attempt to calm down. He hadn’t known what a love hotel was intended for before that night, but he’d also made the mistake to say, ‘I wouldn’t mind going to my first one with you, it could be a first for both of us.’ and you still haven’t let him live it down. Rin’s honest with himself for the most part. He’s awkward, insufferable, and a bore to be around - yet, for some odd and unknown reason, those are your favorite things about him. Why?

Why is it that he can’t function like a normal person when your eyes meet his?

Why do his words rearrange themselves and become complete gibberish when he attempts to woo you with his charm?

What is it that keeps him coming back to you, despite holding such deep hatred for the things that you love most?

“I need to text her.” Rin feels his chest vibrate as he finally makes a decision, the words pouring from his mouth in a short word vomit - forcing Sae to piece together the jumbled mess and attempt to comprehend whatever it was that his big brother was trying to say, to which he jumps up from his seat at the island and aggressively pats Rin on the back. 

“That’s what I’ve been saying, dumbass! Get those fingers movin’!” 

His phone falls into his hands in a millisecond, with Sae eagerly awaiting to hear his poetry. He’s grateful to have such a supportive friend. Rin knows that there aren’t many people who would be willing to put up with him for so long - having been moping around and complaining day-and-night of relationship problems that were solely caused by him - and he can’t imagine not having his support. Hopefully he’ll be able to introduce you, one day. You’ll both give him so much shit for his attitude. Oh well. It’ll all be worth it having two people he loves get along. 

…

Did he just…

What did—

There’s no way.

Did he really just use that word? That godforsaken word?

He’s trembling. Rin’s phone is shaking in his hands as he finally comes to the realization that he does, with his entire heart and being, love you. In an instant, his entire world scrambles together with rapid dashes and line art that he can’t even comprehend. There’s no rules to follow with these types of feelings - this insistent need to see you. Hold you. Kiss you.

Fuck, he wants to kiss you. He can’t think of anything else he’d rather be doing. 

Like tapping raindrops that never cease their fall, his fingertips move against the keypad in a rhythmic motion - singing a song of love that can’t be contained into a simple lullaby. His heart pours out into the message, apology after apology being pasted in paragraphs, and hopes with his whole soul that you’ll find it in yourself to at least see him in person. There’s no way you won’t. Rin knows you well enough now that he’s certain he’ll be seeing you again. All he needed to do was take the first step towards forgiveness, and he’s finally willing to be vulnerable and own up to his inability to be honest about his feelings, because he loves you. He loves you and he wants to tell you a hundred times, a thousand times, and a million times until you beg him to shut the hell up and kiss you. 

‘I’ll be at the studio tonight. I miss you, ______, and I’m sorry.’

He ends the message with a final apology, begging fate that you’ll read it in time to meet him while he still has courage - and with that, he’s on his way to the place he hates most, awaiting the person whom he loves most.

An hour has passed - well technically it’s been fifty-seven minutes, but who’s counting?

He’s counting.

The sun went into hiding ages ago and the moon now stalks him as he sits in his chair, lonely with two vacant eyes that wish they were gazing at yours. Rin can’t even tell if you’ve read the text or not - the grey speech bubbles look the same as they always have, and the delivered sign is posted at the bottom with no response. He wants to send a follow-up message, just a little ‘hey, you there?’ but he knows that’s a little bit much. If you want to see him, you’ll see him and he’ll confess his feelings once-and-for-all - though, he’s feeling much less confident than he was an hour ago. Ahem, sorry. Fifty-nine minutes ago. 

Rin has a plan of what he’s going to say to you, and hopefully it makes sense when the words begin to fall from his lips. He’s said it many times before, but he’ll say it again, he’s never been good with words or feelings or anything of the sort. He wants to get better, though - to become more emotionally aware for your sake, because he knows that’s a priority for you. You have an image of your dream guy that’s been in your wishes since primary school - tall, handsome, daring, dashing, yada, yada, yada - and he’s trying to be that guy. He needs to be that guy. He’ll be anything for you. 

Anything and everything…even the desperate guy who can’t get a text back. 

Y’know, for a moment - a brief and fleeting moment - the world seemed a little more beautiful in his self-realization of love. The stars glistened brighter and the street lights sparkled in their reflections. Before tonight, Rin hasn’t ever been able to appreciate the natural beauty of what surrounded him. He never understood your fascination with replicating real life into paintings and sketches, but he seems to have digested the concept - at least a little bit. The only thing that could undoubtedly make his world more dazzling would be the sight of you, and holy shit there you are. There you are opening the front door - and your gorgeous, perfect reflection in the glass is looking straight at him. 

He doesn’t need the ability to see color to know that you’re the most fascinating and jaw-dropping sight in the entire universe - and that the rainbow should be rearranged in the letters of your name in honor of your ability to captivate attention and inflict a multitude of emotions on him that he’s never felt before. 

“Rin?” Your melodious voice is the remedy that his ears have been yearning for. “Rin, is that you? Why’re you in the dark?” 

This means you haven’t read his text, right? Otherwise, why would you be confused as to why he’s here? Wait, why’re you even here?

You begin to explain yourself without him needing to ask, “I left my phone in here earlier like an idiot and I’ve been looking for it all day. Isn’t that so dumb?” You let out a little laugh, amused at your inability to keep track of your personal belongings. Why aren’t you acting like you’re upset with him? The last time you talked, you could barely look him in the eye - yet now, you’re so casual, almost as if nothing happened. “Here I am looking for my lost phone, but instead I find a lost Rin Itoshi.”

“What are you doing here? Sitting in the dark?”

The repeated question is met with a pregnant silence as Rin fails to piece together the rehearsed words he had come up with earlier, settling on a bear hug that nearly suffocates you. 

He’s so overwhelmed by the feeling of touching you again that he barely notices how stiff your posture is. You’re practically a piece of rock in the midst of being carved by its maker, frozen and unable to formulate an action in response - which, in this case, means that he’s your artist. Rin relaxes his hold, urging you to reciprocate his warmth by nestling his face in your neck. Your right arm finds its place wrapped around his waist and your left around his neck, allowing him to engulf you further into his hold. You smell so nice. He notices the lavender perfume that he bought you is still rubbed into your skin, and he’s glad that you’re finally using it. 

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers.

Rin’s fingers run through your hair in smooth waves, gently kneading out the small knots and helping you relax - and he can tell that your full attention is on him. For the first time in knowing you, there aren’t any distractions or excuses to avoid this conversation. It’s just you, him, and the bare truth. He just hopes he can execute this right. 

“There aren’t enough words to explain how sorry I am, genuinely. I shouldn’t have ever belittled you like that, ______.” He takes a deep breath, one of many, and closes his eyes. The scene of you stomping away from him has no end in his mind. It constantly plays at every hour of the day, re-run after re-run, to torment him and remind him how horribly he screwed up with you. Please, please forgive him. “You’re not just my mom’s student. You’re not just a friend that I get coffee with. You’re so much more than that and I’ve been such a fucking chicken and haven’t been able to be honest with you.”

“You couldn’t have possibly known about my condition and it was wrong of me to take my frustration out on you.” Rin can feel himself begin to cry, his tears raining down his cheeks in cascades of pent up anger and hatred for how he made you feel that day. You didn’t deserve it. You didn’t deserve to be treated like shit by him. “Your work is important to you and I know it should be appreciated. What’s important to you is important to me, okay?”

“You love your art, and I love you.”

He says it over and over again. Those three special words rapidly become six words, nine words, eighteen, forty-two, and onwards as you look at him with an empty expression. Please, please say something. For every second of no response, he confesses his love to you. He confesses as if it’s his source of air - the only way that he’ll be able to survive this encounter is if he bares his emotions with no regrets. If this were a movie, he’d be the desperate protagonist in the climax of the story who fucked up his love life and is begging for a second chance - hell, this is real life and that’s exactly what he’s doing. Just, please, have a happy ending.

You open your mouth, yet nothing comes out. No words. No statements. No confessions. You’re simply staring at him like he’s just told you the most absurd news in the existence of the universe…

…and then a tear falls. 

One tear slips from your eyes, followed by another, and another…until your face is drenched in salty rain with black mascara creasing your eyes. You look like a raccoon. Rin almost starts laughing. No. He is laughing; laughing because your false lashes have fallen into your hands as the glue refused to be waterproof - and now you’re standing before him in a puddled mess of makeup and disheveled hair. You’ve never looked more beautiful. 

Rin brushes his fingers across your cheek, attempting to wipe away your tears like an artist covering up a beautiful mistake. If he were a painter, he’d paint you a million times and more - hanging every portrait on every single wall of his apartment, until there was literally no space left for a scrap of paper. You’re the most gorgeous girl he’s ever laid his eyes on, and the smile that suddenly bursts from your sobs confirms it. 

“What’s going on? I’m so confused, are you happy or are you sad?” He’s so concerned and his inability to read emotions correctly only makes him more helpless. “Talk to me, beautiful. C’mon.”

You lean into his touch and he instantly knows that everything is going to be okay. 

“I just never thought I’d hear you say that.” Your smile is directed at him now, and he feels a warmth that is so familiar yet unfamiliar and he can’t get enough of it. It’s similar to the feeling of being showered in sunlight or snuggling beneath a comforter in the winter - an overwhelming comfort that’s a gift from you to him. “I feel like I’ve been waiting forever. Fuck you for that.”

Now you’re both laughing, giggling, and beaming at each other. His heart feels so at peace. The civil war between his divided emotions, love and loneliness, has finally ceased. 

“I love you.”

“I love you.”

“I love you.”

Neither of you can stop the flow of confessions that slip from your tongues and in an instant your lips are on his - clashing and colliding in a furious kiss that rivals the strength of a hurricane. It’s almost as if he can physically feel your love pouring into him and warming his heart into a heated flame, stoked by the embers of your touch. God, he missed your touch. The feeling of it is addicting. It’s his personal heroin and he’ll never get enough of it. 

Your lips are just as soft as he imagined them to be, perhaps they're a rosy pink color with the slightest touch of strawberry lip balm that he keeps getting a fleeting hint of taste from. Never in his wildest dreams did he think you’d love him too. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. He silently repeats over and over - grateful that he’s been so blessed to know you…feel you…and love you in the awful world that he hated living on his own  - the world void of color that you’ve somehow brightened by simply breathing beside him. 

His hands are everywhere. Your hips. Your waist. Your breasts. Your neck. He can’t get enough of the feeling of you. With every passing second he’s falling deeper and deeper in love. You’re utterly perfect, he would kiss you for years if that was an option—

Aw shit, he knocked over an easel. 

“Goddammit,” he mumbles while briefly pulling away from you. Of course he had to interrupt the moment he’s been waiting months for with his clumsiness. He’s such a dumbass. If he could punch himself in the gut, he would - but that would be way too embarrassing in front of you - hold up, this painting is familiar!

“Well I'll be damned.” He chuckles and turns the canvas towards you, to which you burst out laughing. “I thought you’d have thrown this out.”

“No,” you gaze at the painting with love in your eyes. “I could never, that’s how we met.”

The painted streak he accidentally inflicted upon your artwork remains in the same position. It seems that you never even bothered covering it up and embraced the imperfection. While Rin cannot decipher the magnitude of colors on the canvas, he’s sure that the various strokes look gorgeous and masterful. You’ve always been so talented. He’s so lucky.

As he places the painting upon a now-standing easel, you rest your forehead against his. He loves you. He loves you so much. So much so that he can’t help but take a step closer, not just one but many, and embrace the overwhelming love and passion he holds for you. There are so many words he wants to say, confessions that can carry on for an infinite number of lines, but there’s no need for that now. You have forever - and he decides to start that forever with his favorite thing…

…a kiss. 

“I love you.” You whisper.

“I love you more.” He replies.

read the final part here. THANK UUUU

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⊹₊｡ reblogs are greatly appreciated! ˚₊⊹

#୧ ‧₊˚ 🎐 ⋅ my writing #i.e. romanticism #rin itoshi fluff #rin itoshi x you #rin itoshi x reader #itoshi rin #rin itoshi #rin itoshi ff #rin itoshi fanfiction #rin itoshi fanfic #rin itoshi angst #rin itoshi hc #itoshi rin x reader #itoshi rin x you #blue lock x you #blue lock x reader #bluelock x reader #bluelock x you #blue lock #blue lock ff #blue lock fanfiction #blue lock hc #blue lock fic #rin itoshi fic #rin itoshi fics #rin x reader

[mugentakeda]

i just loveeeee the idea that there was a big gap of understanding between lu ten and iroh the same way theres a big gap of understanding between zuko and iroh. mistakes that iroh didnt realize he made with his son he then also made with his nephew and still not realizing it. a whole world of things about lu ten that iroh didnt know about, and will never know about. im gonna talk about it though because i am insane so look away from my cringe

lu ten had gone to his father with problems before, and iroh cant help but wonder, now, if his son had ever been trying to imply deeper things in between sugarcoated words because there were things you just didnt say in the palace, and irohs head had been so far up his ass he hadnt seen it. despite it being waved practically right in his face by his son, desperate for sound advice from his father, whos brain was too waterlogged by thoughts of how he was going to pull off his next bloody conquest. like how zuko was always howling for help, hurt and confused like a cornered animal, hidden deep under his fits of rage, and irohs head was Still so far up his ass that he kept meeting zukos silent begging for straightforward guidance with convoluted proverbs. he can sit here and bury his face in his hands in shame over the sheer amount of times hed failed his nephew without realizing, and how much convincing it'll take to get his nephew to understand that yes, iroh did fail him so many times, and he couldve prevented so much suffering simply by holding himself to the same standards he held his nephew to. all those times during those three years before the avatar returned that he couldve done something. sit here and think about how sad it is that he has to even try hard to convince his nephew such a thing, how sad it is that he finally got zuko to stop seeing ozai as some all-wise god that can do no error as a father, just for zuko to start seeing iroh as some all-wise god that has done no error as an uncle. but he can at least go and do something about it. he can never do something about what he did to his son. the things he knows he did, the things he doesnt know he did, and everything in between. he will never find out what lu ten truly thought about him. he will never have that reconciliation, that silent scream of relief and violent shiver in the crook of his neck that zuko gave when iroh yanked him in close after their separation, with his lu ten. he just has to hear about his own son through word of mouth and somehow be content with that. and worst of all, its all his own and his god damned family's fault. no amount of healing and learning by trying to do right by zuko and the world he helped nearly ruin not much more than a half decade ago can act as a balm for the agony that brings him. he knows healing his guilty conscience isnt supposed to even be a reason for why he helped the avatar, but god- it's when the rationality leaves him and he realizes that this is something he cant seem to make himself be the bigger person in. he knows its his own fault, that there are hundreds- thousands, maybe- of earth kingdom sons he personally stole from earth kingdom fathers, and only gave up on his siege when the consequences of his war came into his own backyard, but he cant help it. doesnt want to help it. hes still angry and hateful anyway. his son should still be here. his son should still be here. his son should still be here. and if he tells zuko about how much he still hates himself as both an uncle and a father, zuko will definitely rush to reassure him, all the while he is chained to his desk and meetings day in and day out, fixing this uncles mistakes best he can, losing sleep and forgetting to eat. none of it will mean anything to zuko, if it means he can make his uncle feel better. and if that happens, iroh might actually vomit in front of his nephew.

#i love when characters outright refuse to heal or move on!!!! yayyy!!!!!!!!! three cheers for bitterness and hate forever!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! #making lu ten a personality and then remembering hes lit dead so so cool. Like hes just dead. he will never come back. No plot armor #sometimes... characters having unsatisfying unhappy ends.... is the best. #THIS NIGHT HAS OPENED MY EYES.... AND I WILL NEVER SLEEP AGAIN........................ #HE SAID HED CURE YOUR ILLS... BUT HE DIDNT AND HE NEVER WILL.................................... #(starts vomiting blood everywhere #i should tie this with my hcs about ursa and lu ten being close cus they were left alone together in the palace a lot #and how lu ten helped shoulder a kind of deranged amount from her by basically co parenting zuko and azula with her #meanwhile ursa was a grown adult and lu ten was like . 15 #oh the curses of being the eldest sibling oh the horrors #atla

[judasofsuburbia]

YET ANOTHER snippet of my spicy six zombie au, this time it's steddie's fic, the one that started it all<3 i'm hoping to start posting this series by the end of the week!! tw: mild sexual content

March 10th, 1986. Excerpt from the Hawkins Post. 

Reports in Los Angeles of cannibalistic, brain-dead individuals attacking innocent civilians and transferring their unknown disease. Individuals look like they’re actively decaying and they’re typically sluggish but incredibly dangerous. Medical professionals do not understand how they are surviving with massive blood loss and in worse cases, missing organs. So far, it only seems to be in California and troops are being sent to handle them. No one knows how large these groups are or the most effective way to stabilize the threat. 

Steve Harrington is a decently rational person. He wasn’t before the apocalypse. Definitely loved to jump to conclusions and make a huge mess of things before knowing all the details. Spoke and acted before thinking. But now, he’s learned to be more level-headed. He had to be in this environment.

He is one of six adults with a hoard of teenagers and one pre-teen that are all under their care. Having five other adults, (if you could even truly call them that seeing as Eddie is the only one actually in his twenties), is a relief sometimes. If one of them is panicking, there is at least another person who can jump in and be the voice of reason. Steve keeps his freakouts to a minimum nowadays. He’s private about them and there are only two people who ever see him crack. Robin and Eddie. 

Steve Harrington’s libido, however, is not rational in the slightest. It’s no secret that Steve is head over heels for his boyfriend and Eddie shares the sentiment right back. They keep their PDA pretty PG around the others because the last thing someone wants to see when they’re actively fighting the end of the world is the two of them playing tonsil hockey. The two of them are rarely alone so they have to be creative with their sex life.

It’s not ideal. Steve longs for the days he spent with Eddie in bed in his suburban home, living off of kisses and sweet nothings. But it’s certainly not the worst thing happening to them on a day-to-day basis. 

The issue is that Steve’s horny brain loves to kickstart at the absolute worst moments. And today, he only has one thing to blame: Eddie’s southern upbringing. 

Eddie Munson grew up in various towns throughout the south, the longest being a small town in Texas from ages ten to fourteen. He started living with his Uncle Wayne full time his freshman year of high school and even Wayne had an Appalachian drawl to his voice despite being in Indiana.

It was safe to say that there was a certain way Eddie’s voice formulated from those environments. A decently thick Southern accent coated every word he spoke for a long time. After being teased for it in his teens, Eddie got better at hiding it. Learned to speak slower so he could hear what he was saying and tried to be more articulate. The accent would return whenever he was stressed, angry, or drunk. 

Today, Eddie Munson is stressed. They’re all stressed. The party split up in the middle of the night because the abandoned shed that they found after a long day of migrating did not have enough room for everybody. Instead of continuing to hunt into the pitch-black night, Nancy suggested that she and Robin take the kids who were still awake enough to keep going while Eddie, Steve, Jonathan, and Argyle took care of the ones that wanted to go to sleep. Those ended up being Dustin, Will, and Erica.  It’s something they’ve done before with no problem.

The only promise is that they keep their walkies on and charged throughout the night in case something happens. 

The other group’s walkies were not picking up. All of them split into the woods a few feet away from each other to try to page again and again but nothing came through. The adults shared a look that said “Don’t panic, don’t freak the kids out”. Eddie silently volunteered to gather them and gently tell them that they were out of range and just need to find which way they went. The kids looked a little freaked anyway but they agreed and started looking around the property for clues. Eddie headed back over to the other adult men and sighed loudly once they were out of earshot. 

“Robin didn’t take the extra pack of batteries,” Jonathan said. “I fucking told her to‒”

“She must have forgotten them,” Steve said. “She wouldn’t just leave those behind.”

“Shit,” Eddie muttered. “Who knows how fucking far they could have gone?”

“Even though they were swearing up and down last night that they were fine, those other kiddos looked worn out too,” Argyle said. “They can’t be too far.”

“Alright,” Eddie clapped his hands together. “There’s a path in these woods that they probably took. I reckon we just follow that until one of those sons a bitches turns around for us. Steve and I will lead, rugrats in the middle, Argyle and Jon, y’all are the caboose. Capiche?”

“Caposh,” Argyle and Jonathan chorused. 

“Great,” Eddie sighed. “C’mon Stevie.”

Steve blinked out of his little haze and took Eddie’s offered hand. He stumbled a bit as Eddie dragged him along, causing Eddie to look back at him with mild concern. Steve gave him a soft smile and a nod of his head, doing his best not to show the vile things popping into his head right now. Eddie raised his eyebrow and rolled his eyes but did crack a small smile despite the tension of the situation. 

“We’re gonna find our pack and then discuss whatever the hell is knockin' around in that pretty head of yours, sugar,” Eddie whispered harshly into his ear. Did not help the problem at all, elevated it, in fact, but Steve kept himself steady with big draws of breath.

#hehehe<3 eddie being from the south like me my beloved #steve is so john wayne by lady gaga coded #emily writes #steve harrington/eddie munson #steddie #steddie fics #steddie ficlets #eddie munson #steve harrington

[ourlittledinosaur]

Fed is Best

New Post has been published on http://ourlittledinosaur.com/fed-is-best/

Fed is Best

I was recently sent an article regarding a woman whose baby was struggling to nurse and basically starving because the baby could not physically remove milk from the breast. After much trial, the mother chose to formula feed. The article’s point? Fed is Best.

I would like to reiterate this point: Fed is Best. (And no I don’t mean the Federal government. I mean that a fed and full child is best. Yes, my mommy brain went there and was confused by the article until my smart brain kicked in.)

This article hit home for me because my son also struggled to nurse and for the first 4 weeks, before we put him on high-calorie formula, he was in fact, a failure to thrive baby.

For those Mommies out there like me who knew from the start of their pregnancy they wanted to breastfeed, and had the motto, “Breast is Best” ingrained in their minds. These Mom’s looked forward to breastfeeding and prepared for it while pregnant. They researched the heck out of it, they asked other Mommies about their experiences, and they, quite literally, dreamed about it. For Mothers who plan so thoroughly, it can be quite a blow when someone suggests putting your baby on formula.

Uh, ex-squeeze me? Did you say formula?

As my midwife put it, “Formula is not the devil.” Upon hearing these words, I rationally knew what she was saying, but emotionally my heart was saying, “But formula is bad.”

Let me say now, it really isn’t. And this is coming from the Mama who had to go take a shower to BAWL HER EYES OUT while my husband gave our baby his first BOTTLE of formula.

Mommies listen. Formula is not “bad”. It can nourish your baby. It can fill your baby’s tummy. It can keep your baby healthy. If you’re a new Mama who is needing to put your baby on formula, that’s ok. There was a time in my very recent past, I truly did not believe that, but it really is all right.

If you really want to, there is still the option to continue to breastfeed. Some options include:

Partial breastfeeding – While working towards your breastfeeding goals, but supplementing with formula or pumped breast milk, nursing can be done to still reap the wonderful benefits. The benefits are what sold us on it in the first place, right?

Exclusive pumping – If nursing your baby simply isn’t a possibility, some mothers choose to pump their breast milk and feed this to their babies in bottles. To read about efficient pumping, click here.

Exclusive formula feeding – This is a perfectly acceptable option. I know, love, and respect my dear friends and family members who have chosen this option.

Now those of you who know my story know that I did whatever it took to breastfeed as much as possible. For me, I used a combination of partial breastfeeding and pumping and worked toward the goal of exclusively breastfeeding. Those of you who KNOW me personally, know that I am as stubborn as they come. I had to constantly check myself to make sure I wasn’t being selfish in my desire to breastfeed. My decision was to salvage nursing using any means necessary. I had the time, determination, resources, and most importantly, the support (my dear, sweet husband is a Saint), to make it happen for my son and me. It was a very difficult path, but one I’m glad I took.

Now, this does not make me a “better” mother than Mama’s who choose to formula feed. These Mommies are amazing women, some of which I learn from every single day. Their wisdom and insight are what make me a better Mother than I could be without their experiences to pull from.

So if you are pregnant and starting your research into breastfeeding or if you are just starting your journey into motherhood, again or for the first time, you will hear over and over again, “Breast is Best” by many reputable organizations such as the La Leche League. There is some very helpful information to be gleaned here, but you will read about how any obstacle to breastfeeding can be overcome. While this is true the vast majority of the time, sometimes it just isn’t going to work and you may have to make a different choice. And THAT’S OK!

So, in the spirit of Fed is Best, here is my new motto: Hungry Baby is Bad. Formula is Good (Not Bad). Breast is Better. Fed is Best.

Remember, Happy, Healthy Baby. Happy, Healthy Mama.

Tell us your experience. How do you feed your baby?

“For thus says the LORD, “Behold, I extend peace to her like a river, And the glory of the nations like an overflowing stream; And you will be nursed, you will be carried on the hip and fondled on the knees.” Isaiah 66:12

Read About My Breastfeeding Struggle:

Prayer, Perseverance, and the Path to 100% Breast Milk

Related Topics:

6 Tips and Tricks for Efficient Pumping Oops, I Just Pumped and My Baby is Hungry

From Other Authors:

MumeeMagic.com’s The Benefits Of Breastfeeding For Both Mother And Baby

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#Breastfeeding #Fed is Best #formula feeding #pumping

[theirprofoundbond]

hello! for the 2022 review questions, 18 and 23? :) thank you so much and hope you're well!!

Hey, Sam! When I saw your avatar in my inbox it made me go 😊 I’ve been away from tumblr for ages and it’s comforting to see familiar “faces.”

These questions actually stumped me for a bit! But after overthinking I came up with some (rambling) answers 😂

18. Share an excerpt from your favorite scene.

I wasn’t sure I’d find something I could share! Everything from this particular fic feels like it’ll give the game away, and I really love to try and surprise the reader (in good ways). Also, how is it that I don’t struggle with summaries at all, but ask me to choose an excerpt and suddenly my brain goes ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Like… I already wrote it. What’s the problem.

Anyway, here we go:

Castiel reaches for the only weapon he has: the whip. With the fall still encircling his wrist, he grips a short length of the whip between his hands, raising it just in time to block the next blow. The angel blade clashes with the chainmail and bounces off, a discordant vibration rattling through the disparate metals, through Castiel’s entire being.

Funny how scenes that almost make you lose your mind while writing them later get promoted to “favorite.”

23. How did you recharge between fics?

Does (mentally) holding your foot on the gas pedal while your brain car is stuck in mud, wheels spinning, and inside you’re screaming, “I HAVE TO KEEP GOING!!!” count as recharging?

No…?

I am bad at recharging! Like, I’ll disengage from writing and not open my documents and Notion, but it’s as if I can’t truly convince myself that I have permission to do that. (It doesn’t help that I think about my writing all the time.) But yeah, I always feel the “I should be making progress” itch (even though rationally I know that resting is part of the process, and necessary to making progress). This last year was especially tough because I desperately wanted to complete certain things and publish but I couldn’t.

I have found that the less time I spend on my computer when I know I’m not focusing on writing helps me disengage further. (Like… if you’re on your computer, the documents are lurking… and you can feel them wondering, accusingly, why you aren’t adding words to them.)

Maybe the bigger thing, though, is just… getting stuff done in other areas of my life. I find doing loads of laundry always helps to recenter me. But towards the end of 2022 Tom and I focused on household projects and tackling small to-dos we kept putting off. We finally put up bird feeders after almost a year of meaning to (and the birds were really pleased! So was a fat squirrel 😂). We ran errands and organized a bunch of stuff/rooms. I put a new screen protector on his phone, and he helped me install my big memo board in my study.

I think the key is to see something through to completion, no matter how small the thing is. I don’t know what writing feels like for you, but for me it is often hard, and very slow, and a lot of the time it feels like I’m clawing my way to the finish line. So starting tasks and finishing them, without having to feel like I’m fighting my way through them, is restorative in some way.

…I told you they were rambling answers!

Thank you for the ask 😊 And happy new year to you and your family! I'm wishing you the very best of luck with your 2023 writing goals ✨

(Here’s the 2022 in review ask game!)

#answered ask #wanderingcas #Drop me a line if you ever want to talk about writing!

[thisisasupergoodidea]

the magic catch

part 24

———

“Wait!”

Rogelio automatically takes a step forward- but he stops himself. What is he gonna do, go after the guy? Follow him all the way back just to get the door slammed in his face? Kick it open anyway?

That’s never worked the way Rogelio wanted it to even a single time, and it never will.

This is foolish. It reeks of desperation. But he’ll forever blame himself if he lets things end without a better resolution than the two of them are known for. So with enormous effort, Rogelio forces the muddied wheels in his brain to change direction.

“Don’t leave yet. I- I want to understand, believe me. But how can I, when every time we meet like this, it becomes a fight? I’m trying something different here. Just try it with me. Please.”

Shockingly, as Rogelio pleads for him to stay, the guy lurches to a halt. His body language screams tension. For a moment, the only part of him that moves is his head, sagging from some imaginary weight. Then he pivots on his heel like his own feet are betraying him and stares at Rogelio, eyes bugging out like he’s trying so hard to blink but his eyelids chose this very moment to revolt against him.

At least those eyes are on him again.

That shouldn’t have worked, Rogelio’s brain tells him. Don’t ruin it, he tells his brain.

“Look, I think it’s fine to be angry and- and to want some kind of acknowledgment for the ways you’ve been wronged. That’s not the issue. But there’s no way you’re using whatever happened to rationalize everything you’ve put this town through. You have to know that some of the things you do are just… evil, right?”

For a while, the sound of nature grows louder around them, rushing in to fill the absence. The guy finally forces his eyelids back into submission.

“I do.” The guy’s voice is far too soft for how hard it hits Rogelio. “I’m playing my part, just as you play yours.”

“I’m not playing with you, dammit! I’m trying to get you to care about the consequences of your ‘fun’! Would you still be acting like this if you’d killed someone with one of your stupid schemes?”

“I haven’t, though, have I?”

Another splash of fury coats Rogelio’s brain; he gnaws the insides of his cheeks so hard they start stinging. Don’t ruin it! The pain helps to temper him, but truly nothing would be more satisfying than to grab the guy by his dumb oversized collar and shake him around until a few things up top get knocked back into place. That wouldn’t be very diplomatic of him, however. So instead he bites his tongue, having had enough of the taste of his own cheek.

“No. But you could. And what about all the people who’ve never done a fucking thing to you, who are caught in the middle? Doesn’t that bother you even a little bit?”

The guy nods in a mocking sort of way, to show that he heard the question but has no intention of engaging with it.

“So. Your talk of ‘understanding’ was only to lure me into yet another lecture over my moral failings. If you’re quite finished, then, stop wasting your time and mine-“

“Okay, okay,” Rogelio blurts out before the other guy can so much as twitch in the ‘away’ direction. “I’ll back off. That’s… not what I came here for.“

“Yes, remember yourself, Rogelio: you came for information.” The guy takes a few swaggering steps towards him. “I’m deeply curious how you imagine you’re going to bait it out of me now.”

Rogelio is curious about that himself. Despite the promising start, all they’ve done since is argue with each other. It’s all they ever do. He knew from the beginning that this was a shot in the dark- while simultaneously drunk and blindfolded- but he doesn’t care how low the odds are. He needs to figure this guy out, and soon, because this… this is unbearable.

Trying to inspire sympathy clearly isn’t going to work. Time to change tactics.

Think about it. What are his weak points? What does he react to? What does he want?

…What does he want?

“What do you want?”

The guy looks at him like he’s sprouted a second head.

“…Huh?”

“I told you I was willing to negotiate. So let’s do it. Seriously! What would it take for you to- play nice?”

He studies his opponent through tired, bleary eyes, enjoying the show of mental gymnastics on the guy’s face even if he has no idea what’s going on in there. At least now they’re both struggling, and the field of battle is more or less even. But all too soon does that flustered expression on the guy’s face shift into something more devious.

“To start, I’d like for us to acknowledge the futility our current arrangement.”

“…What do you mean?”

“I mean it has reached the end of its road, don’t you think? It’s far too tiresome to dutifully maintain, and we’ve both already strayed from it anyway.”

“No, I was only reacting to you-”

“Let’s not have this argument again! Regardless of who did what first, the fact remains that neither of us managed to keep those promises. In the end, this silly little partition meant nothing. Or is this what you consider to be ‘leaving each other alone’?”

Rogelio looks around at where they are; he heaves out a breath. The guy is right. He did choose to go looking for trouble in the middle of a tentative peace, and now here he is, doing it again. Even if his reasons are different, even if he’s been extra careful not to cross any lines this time, he sure is getting real cozy next to it.

“Okay, fine. I acknowledge that our agreement completely fell apart when it mattered,” he shoots back. “It didn’t stop you… and I guess it didn’t stop me either. But what else was I supposed to do? Sit around and pretend like I’m not constantly worried something bad is about to happen? What about you? Didn’t you want your stuff back? Should I have waited for you to steal it again?”

“Why are you asking me? Those are your decisions to make, not mine. So, by all means, say whatever you need to to convince yourself that your actions were justified.”

“Fuck you,” Rogelio says, but his heart isn’t in it. “I just… I did my best to make sure everyone got what they wanted. You could have- left, you could have started over somewhere else! I don’t know why you didn’t! It’s like we’re incapable of staying out of each other’s business.”

The guy has the gall to laugh at that- or at him. But it’s not a big showy thing; not flavored with evil, malice, or mockery. The noise simply comes out of him: a bitter chuckle that could almost be mistaken for something comfortable, companionable. Or maybe the strong afternoon sun is to blame, baking false warmth into a frigid man.

“What?”

“No need to be tetchy. I actually agree with you, for once. Personally, I don’t think your actions indicate a failure on your part; rather, it was the rules that failed you. They were too ill-fitting, too restrictive. They could only succeed in a world where everything exists to accommodate your every hope- a world we do not inhabit. Therefore, I propose we do our part to build that better world in ours by making a few adjustments to our design. Then more, and more, until what envelops us is as close to perfection as we can dream. That is what you idealistic types desire, is it not?”

Cool monologue, Rogelio thinks to himself. Did he steal it from a poet, or pace around practicing it to himself all morning- like Rogelio had practiced his?

“…Unless you’d rather drop all pretense of promises entirely…?”

Rogelio realizes then that he’d gotten lost in his thoughts again and failed to respond.

“Oh- absolutely not.”

“I thought not. Then it’s decided! And here is my humble suggestion: if your visitations are going to be a weekly occurrence, as they have become, I think it’s only fair that I should be afforded the same liberty.”

He stares dumbly at the guy.

“You… want to visit me?”

“Yes. Not just you, actually.” His voice takes on a playful, and sinister, tone. “Everyone.”

———

first - previous - next

#my writing #project magic

[peachfaeryy]

I guess I've got to admit to myself that at least right now I feel awful in my relationship. And I don't know or can't tell who/what is to blame for it.

I feel like I need therapy because I don't know if I have waves of where I just can have serotonin in my brain, or if it's something that's truly going on. I feel and have felt like this in every relationship.

Or I can't tell if I'm going stir crazy just because it's the very tail end of summer.

And this is where I can become avoidant (a new development for myself) because during times where I feel this way the relationship and everything related to it is so overwhelming to me, so anxiety-driven, that I can't even interact with it. And I just want to shove that aspect of my life in a closet and walk away.

I don't know what it is, I don't. I just feel like I can't trust him. For whatever reason. I don't know if it's because of deep-set trust issues due to my engagement falling apart, and the abuse that came with that, or if it's something in Gabriel that I can't trust. And I'm tired of lying to myself, and convincing myself that I do trust him.

And this is not something I want for myself, and it's something I try to fight and constantly, constantly rationalize through, to no avail. And it's the constant reassurance in myself and rationalization that stress me out, and make me feel bad. It's something that I hope with time and experience will get better...but I don't know how to improve, and I don't have the tools.

I fear that he flirts with other girls online. And I am frustrated with myself, and feel like I have betrayed myself, because I didn't/don't want to have to slap him on the wrist or feel anxious about that. I wish I had the courage and self esteem to know that I don't deserve to be disrespected like that. But then I don't know if I even have proof that he flirts with other girls online.

It's the fact that I've noticed him having conversations with multiple girls (3-4) that I have absolutely no idea who they are, nor has he ever mentioned any of these names. But he doesn't appear to be secretive about it, he will type these messages to them in front of me.

And on the day I was concerned, he publicly posted he and I together on his story. So. Idk.

~

I perceive Gabriel to be a flirtatious person. Based on his attractive aura (to men and women) and things he has told me from his past (flirting with other girls while in a relationship, general girl craziness)

I just don't know what to do about any of this, and I feel stuck, and it's making me miserable.

I feel like I'm too insecure to be with him. And sometimes I feel like if I did what was best by me, I would leave. It's not that he has done anything wrong really...I just think it takes a stronger person than I can be.

[allexteriordark]

Do you not like Jared?

no i do like him nonnie T_T the mlm post is funny to me though! i know you only asked this bc you don't like/would prefer not to interact with jared haters but i'm gonna say a few more things (灬º‿º灬)♡

in general i'm wary of any uhh famous person... what they show of themselves to the public could be far from their true selves. imo . like i don't Know jared, he seems like a nice guy, i try to avoid parasocializing bc i feel like it's better for everyone that way. but as long as ppl don't excuse certain mistakes or get too bummed out when a celebrity messes up, like, of course they can be fans of celebrities!! i honestly think that's rly nice, good for jarpad enjoyers, i hope you have fun interacting with that weird little texan man (in whatever ways are available) ✊

but i feel like if i start getting attached to like, humans who happen to live in the public eye, that's not very good 😔 because we aren't friends and i can't "like" jared... he just is, and i'm observing and i'm entertained and i have more positive feelings than negative ghysgbxy

(with that said. if i don't think too much about things.... i Like him. anything he does i'm like 'king shit. mwah' and even when i find his selfie angles lame and his language corny and he gets arrested it's. just the flavor. When he does something i don't like it's just funny!! because..... he's only real to me when it's fun and convenient hehe)

ig bottom line is, i only like him as long as it's not too serious. or when i ignore my principles of keeping a safe distance from famous people :)) but i like him

#yeah so!! i like jared but i wouldn't say i LOVE him. because he's a real dude. he's just out there‚ being flawed #and i have a limited perception of this dude!! if i watched and read every single interview‚ i still wouldn't 'know' know him #however. i want to like him!!!! i approach him positively! because i like the way he treats fans and i like his opinions and stuff like tha #:3 #i DON'T not like jared‚ for sure - he hasn't given me a reason to‚ objectively‚ as far as i know 😳 and subjectively‚ i like him. #subjectively as in........ just the vibes and feelings i get. lol when you get to know someone‚ there's a bunch of different impressions #and sometimes you can just feel that you don't click w the person and other times you feel the opposite. and then you interact and use your #brain to judge if they're a good person‚ w the same core values as you. bc for example.. you might think someone is funny and kind #and then find out they're super transphobic. and then you wouldn't like them anymore #does this make sense? 🥴 #my feelings are like oh hehe i like jarpad he's just a silly goose. also he's cute also he wouldn't murter me for a ship. that's very nice! #while my rational brain is like‚ but what has he DONE truly #lmao. i don't know why i typed all that out but it was much more fun than the studying i was supposed to do!! <3 #i prolly did this because i think about justifying my actions all day every day and i can't exist in a fandom space without #deciding exactly what i think about the very real celebs ppl post about 🥴🥴🥴 #rambles #now THAT'S rambling <3 #jared #ask

[urmindisastreamofcolors]

Jealousy (Smut, 18+ only)

A/n: this is very spicy so please do not interact if you’re under 18! @avagvf thank you for the request (and I’m sorry it took so long!)

Warnings: jealousy, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it) and 18+ only!!!

Taglist: @joshyswife @katie-gvf @theweightofstardust @maverick-rose @greta-van-yeet @gretavanfleas @weightofdreams-gvf

“No. It’s easier if you do it this way,” Jake explained again as you tried to follow along with the riff, but you huffed in frustration when your pinky just couldn’t stretch to play the note you wanted. Instead of explaining it again, Jake wrapped his hand around yours and showed you physically what he meant. You didn’t think anything of it as he guided you through the notes before scooting away and back to his own guitar. 

“Ohhhhhhh,” you said as you played it a couple more times, fingers flying over the chords as it finally clicked. You two continued to practice, critiquing each other when needed, but letting the music between the two of you doing most of the talking. At some point, Jake royally screwed up the run and you laughed loudly at him as he fumbled, trying to recover from his mistake. 

“Okay, that’s enough for today I think! I’ve never fucked up Highway Tune like that in my life,” Jake said as he rolled his eyes causing you to laugh again. The atmosphere between you two was content and friendly as you began to put your guitars back in their designated spots just like you had always done. 

You had joined the band right after Danny, and while your main love has always been guitar, you were originally recruited to supplement where needed. You could play everything from violin to drums, so you were crucial in helping create “the cosmic sound” as Josh called it. Once they realized how well you could play guitar and how cool it sounded in harmony with Jake, it was a done deal. After several years of traveling together, winning a Grammy and producing an EP and two amazing albums, you had grown close with all four boys, especially Josh. 

According to the other guys in the band, Josh had been in love with you from the minute you came home with Ronnie one day after school and was truly head over heels once you started talking about your love for music. Needless to say, after nearly three years of a slowburn friends-to-lovers romance, the two of you had finally confessed your feelings to one another in a heated argument. If you were both being honest, you weren’t even sure what the argument had truly started over. 

As you were finishing picking up and bantering playfully with Jake, you were completely unaware of Josh leaning against the door frame watching the interaction. Some rational part of his brain tried to convince himself that you would never flirt with his twin brother and he knew Jake would never make a move on you knowing how much Josh cared for you. But, the other part of his brain was full of what could only be jealousy. His tongue slid along his pearly white teeth as he tried, and ultimately failed, to pull himself together. Red coated the edge of his vision as he stomped into the rehearsal room. 

“Hey, babe,” you called out when you heard him enter and you were so excited to see your boyfriend that you didn’t even notice Jake’s expression at seeing his brother. 

“What’s your problem? You look pissed, man,” Jake said simply as he crossed his arms over his chest. You wrinkled your brow in confusion at Jake’s words, but once you fully took in Josh, you couldn’t deny the anger that seemed to fuel his body. 

“Shut the fuck up, Jacob,” Josh growled through his teeth as he wrapped one hand firmly around your wrist and began to drag you from the room. His grip wasn’t painful and you were too shocked to argue as you followed behind him in confusion. After a few minutes, he flung open a door to a random empty conference room and pulled you in behind him. Josh slammed the door shut and locked before pinning you against it. The coolness from the door seeped through your thin shirt and your breath was coming in small gasp as your brain tried to figure out what was happening while the brain below your belt tried to throw logic to the side for the moment. 

“Were you flirting with my brother, mama? Is that what that was,” he questioned in a deep baritone that came from his chest and his eyes told you he expected an answer. 

“What? No! We were just practicing,” you managed to say in a choked whisper. The intensity of gaze caused heat to pool between your legs and you tried to squeeze them together in the hope of finding some relief. 

“You think he can make you feel the way I do? Let me remind you of why you scream my name every night,” Josh said lowly while wrapping one hand in your hand. His lips crashed into yours and you didn’t even try to fight for dominance as he consumed you in every way. His cologne filled your nose and his taste coated your tongue. Josh’s free hand gripped your ass tightly pulling you into him and you could feel his erection pressed against you. 

Without breaking the kiss, Josh pulled you away from the door and began to walk you backwards towards the large table in the middle of the room. Your hands found their way into his curls and Josh groaned into your mouth at the sensation of you gently tugging his hair. Josh’s hands found the hem of your shirt as he pulled it over your head in one fluid motion before unbuttoning his jeans. You helped him unbutton and slide off your jeans and underwear. You moaned quietly when Josh began leaving a trail of kisses down the column of your throat while one hand found its way in between your thighs. 

The tips of his fingers traced lightly from your jawline and journeyed down between the valley of your breasts before ghosting along the insides of your thighs. Using one finger, he circled your clit slowly before sticking his middle and ring finger in his mouth before returning to your center. Slowly, he slid the two fingers in while he watched your mouth form a perfect o-shape at the sensation.

His fingers skillfully pumped in and out of you, curling in to hit your g-spot. Your toes curled and back arched as an orgasm began to build in the pit of your stomach. You spread your legs wider giving him more access, but instead he pulled away. An audible whine of protest escaped your throat at the loss of his fingers, but it quickly turned into a gasp when pulled you up from where you had been sitting. 

“Face down. Ass up, mama,” Josh said with a daredevil smile as he turned you around and put gentle pressure in the small of you back. You happily obliged as you stretched out over the cool oak table, back arching in anticipation. You let out a small yelp when the palm of his hand made contact with your ass and audibly moaned when he gripped your hips and lined himself up. 

Without a second to lose, Josh snapped his hips forward. His fingers curled in on your hips and you knew for a fact that you were going to have bruises later, but currently, you really didn’t mind. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head with every thrust and you breath caught in your throat when one of Josh’s hands suddenly was wrapped in your hair. The familiar feelings of an orgasm began to build and your fingernails ran down the tabletop as your breath quickened. 

“J-Josh,” you breathed out as you pushed your hips back into his and smirked when you heard him curse under his breath. 

“I know, mama,” Josh panted out as he began to fuck you harder. The sound of his voice was enough to send you spiraling over the edge as your orgasm rushed through your body. A sharp gasp left your body when Josh pulled out abruptly and pulled your body against him with one hand around your waist and the other wrapped around your throat.

Your cheeks were flushed and chest heaved as you tried to steady your breathing. Josh’s breath fanned along the shell of your ear as you leaned back into him, using him to help support your weight since your legs were no longer working. You were so caught up in post-orgasm bliss that you jumped slightly when he began to talk and his ches vibrated as he spoke. 

“I want you to remember exactly how good I can fuck you the next time my brother flirts with you. Do you understand,” he said quietly, in almost a whisper as he placed feathery kisses down the side of your neck. You were so caught off-guard that the only thing you could do was nod your head in confirmation. 

“Good girl. I’ll see you at home, mama,” Josh said before placing one more kiss to your temple before dressing himself and leaving you behind with a wink. You ran over the past few moments as confusion muddled your brain at Josh’s words and behavior. Apparently, your beloved boyfriend had a jealousy streak and you were happily letting your mind wander to what exactly might happen once the two of you were home. 

#greta van fleet #jake kiszka #danny gvf #josh kiszka #danny wagner #greta van fleet oneshots #josh gvf #josh m kiszka x reader #josh gvf x reader #josh kiszka x reader smut #18+ #jealousy #jealous!josh

[caspianjames]

Having Young Royals brain rot now about August??? I think he’s often made out to be the villain and he’s really,,,not??? Did he do a shitty thing? Absolutely. Do I think he’s a bad person? Absolutely not. He’s incredibly well written and I think in a lot of ways he’s very easy to empathize with. Here’s why.

That kid has pretty much everything going against him. Canonically he’s what? 17? 18? His dad is dead, he clearly doesn’t have a good relationship with his mom or stepdad, he’s clearly never had a safe space to process his dads death and work on recovering, he’s relying on stimulants to get through school, the girl he likes decides to date him but only cuz she can’t get his cousin, he has virtually no caring adults in his life, he’s bankrupt and terrified that the only semblance of normalcy he has left (hillerska) will be ripped out from under him. That kid is a fucking mess and absolutely the consequences of this mean he’s going to lash out. He gives so many warning signs that he’s not doing okay too. But so, to break this down point by point:

1. His dead died in a rather horrific manner, his mom moved on but clearly was not around to make sure that her son was okay. He’s often referred to a stupid or prideful for not wanting to give up part of the family estate so he’s not bankrupt except that’s the only thing he has left of his dad. And it’s not even his fault he’s bankrupt, he’s a kid!

2. Not having a safe space to process his dad dying is sort of visibly a given, but actually to take that one step further I think he DID have a safe space. It was Erik. And then Erik died and this kid truly has nothing, not even Wille because he was more interested in Simon than paying attention to what August was going through (which isn’t Wille’s fault, he hardly knew August and clearly had different values and stuff from august. But watching the show I get the feeling August is really looking to be someone meaningful to Wille and Wille just,,,really doesn’t like him). He said this in a roundabout way to Felice, too, when he was jealous of her relationship with Willhelm. It was something like “you’re my girlfriend, you’re supposed to comfort me so that I can comfort him.” Which I think is a two fold thing where firstly, no one realizes how hard Erik’s death hit him and how much he needs someone to tell him that stuff is going to be alright, but secondly, the last thing we see Erik tell him is to take care of Wille. So now he also feels like he’s failing to do that. And Willie, the one person who he could relate to about Erik, hardly wants anything to do with him.

3. I am SO interested to see where the plot will go with the meds he’s relying on. I don’t think it’s ever actually made clear if he thinks he DOES have ADHD or whether he’s just using the meds to cope but either way it’s a problem that shows he doesn’t have adequate support, you know? Even the school counsellor dude was just like “ok guess ur gonna walk out of my office bye then” instead of altering the headmaster or his parents or a teacher he trusts or ANYTHING. And, as the season progresses he gets more volatile. Why? He’s out of meds (and, whether or not he actually has ADHD and needs meds, that means he’s low on dopamine and is going to start doing stupider stuff to get his brain to reward him). (Side note, given the role ADHD and also substance abuse plays in the series I really, really hope they do both concepts justice)

4. Felice dating him even though she has no interest. No hate to her for that, honestly, I don’t think she was really interested in anyone except making her parents happy with her. She’s under a whole different kind of pressure. But august? He clearly really likes her and is trying hard with her, until everything sort of falls out of his grasp nearer the end of the season cuz he thinks she’s in love with Wille and is otherwise not coping well at all.

SO ALL THAT leads up to him outing Wille, which we see from Wille’s POV but never really from August’s, right? We see Wille yelling at August about how he was supposed to be able to trust him, but honestly I think from August’s POV Wille broke that trust first. We said already that pretty much the only thing August had left going for him was Hillerska, and by extension his friends and community there. When Wille wants them to make Alex take the fall for the drugs to save Simon, he literally exposes August and basically rips that away from him sooner than August is ready for, because now all the boys know that he’s bankrupt. In Wille’s mind it’s not a big deal - it’s a means to an end and he already knows he’s asked his mom to cover August’s tuition. It’s a very calculated but very smart move.

Except that Hillerska is all that August has left, and in a sense, Wille takes that away from him. Can you imagine how horrible that would feel for August from someone he trusted?? And honestly there is nothing more dangerous than someone who has been wronged and feels like they have nothing to lose. You can tell when Sara sees August at the computer. He doesn’t make up a story, he doesn’t care. He just wants to hurt Wille back in the only way that he can regardless of the consequences.

I don’t even think he’s homophobic or anything, either. He took the video initially to make fun of Wille with, and then when he realized what it was he didn’t say anything. But in that moment that was the one thing he had on Wille that he could weaponize because he knew it would be taken badly by the general public. 

And then he gets the call of his tuition being paid and you can see reality crash down around him when he realizes rationally what he’s done.

Anyways. My conclusion is. This poor kid has literally no one looking out for him. Like, not a single person. And that’s what happens, you know? No one does horrible things or irreparable damage to themselves or others on a whim. There’s almost always a build-up of hopelessness or anger that has to overflow first. This is a real life thing. This shit is preventable. And I really, really hope we get to see that with August. I hope we get a redemption, but an honest one. Because no matter what led to his actions, they still have real consequences. I hope the show creates a storyline where we see him getting what he needs from the adults around him while also having to deal with the consequences of his actions. 

#young royals #young royals august #young royals simon #young royals wilhelm #young royals wilmon #wilmon #young royals felice #young royals sara #young royals spoilers #tw substance abuse #tw mental illness

[oliviajdjarin]

Chapter 1: a tug

Warnings: PTSD, sadness, depression, panic attack, mentions of violence

Author’s note: this is part one of my series called “Burning Red.” This is kind of boring because it is a set up for the main storyline, but I hope you enjoy it! Any constructive criticism and support is greatly appreciated. And if I missed a warning, please let me know!!

After everything you’ve seen, everything you’ve done, everyone you’ve hurt, it felt good to just lay low.

A mechanic on tatooine was not what you imagined, but it did the trick.

No one saw you for who you truly were, and that made you happy.

Well, except for Peli.

You came to her sick and angry and alone, and she nursed you back to health. You would be rotting in the desert if it wasn’t for her, and you felt you owed her a little something.

So, you used your “uncommon” set of abilities to help her with her mechanics in any way she needed.

This included: cooking, cleaning, repairing, negotiating, and most importantly, defending.

Peli was no dummy. She knew you had more experience in that field than she did. So she recruited you, and paid you back with whatever she had laying around. A new outfit once and a while, a warm bed, a hot dinner, and a couple of credits so you could go shopping and get out of her hair.

You couldn’t blame her. You were a hell of a lot of trouble to be around.

Constant nightmares, paranoia, and regret surrounded your aura like a fog. Any normal person wouldn’t notice, but someone like Peli could. And it pissed her off a good majority of the time.

“Stop moping and help me clean this oil off my droid,” and sentences like this one, were said pretty frequently around your place.

Was it even your place? All you did was survive. Is that enough to say you lived there instead of just survived there?

You really liked Peli. She gave you a base. A “home” of sorts, and for that you were forever indebted.

But something in you always called you back to your real home, and that scared you more than Peli’s tough love. More than you could even describe.

~~*~~

It was a pretty normal day on Tatooine. The wind howled, the sand covered everything in its wake, and the heat. You would never get used to it.

You were eating your breakfast when a ship landed on the landing pad, and you could already tell it was a doosey just by the way the left engine was sputtering.

If this ship explodes, we better get a damn good pay, you think to yourself.

The ramp starts to open and you take that as your queue to start the walk to your makeshift room. It was really a storage room, but you didn’t mind.

When you get there, you squat down to the ground behind your door and grab your apron and set of tools. You knew Peli would need some help with this ship.

You hear the ship’s ramp hit he ground and you feel it.

A tug.

Not even a tug, a lurch. It felt like a rope had been tied to your soul and pulled you back into your old self.

This was a tug you hadn’t felt in so long. So long, it almost knocks you off your feet.

I closed myself off from this, you think. I shouldn’t feel this. I don’t want to feel this.

You already feel a headache coming on from the shock and ache in your bones, so you start walking back to the landing pad to tell Peli you aren’t feeling too well.

If I get recognized, we are both dead.

You’d rather get a scolding from Peli than a scolding hot gun wound in your chest.

“Hey,” you hear Peli shout at the client, and you pick up your pace. Your heart is hammering in your chest and you feel the panic ooz through your body.

It’s been so long since you’ve felt this, but you hate how it makes you feel alive.

You finally make it to Peli and you see her speaking very loudly (she doesn’t like to use the word “yelling”) at what seems to be your client.

But this is no ordinary client. This is a Mandalorian.

A very broad Mandalorian who, no offense to Peli, could knock her out in his sleep.

You had heard legends of their kind. But worst of all, you had fought them. And damn were they good.

You hadn’t seen any since the purge. You had heard rumors of them hiding under ground, but they had always been peaceful people. You hated how they got dragged into a war.

“You damage one of my droids, you’ll pay for it,” Peli says, and you really wish she would use a more peaceful tone.

The last thing you want to do right now is fight a very impressive looking Mandalorian covered entirely in beskar while your entire body is tingling.

Is he the one who is force sensitive?

“Just keep them away from my ship” he says, and you are surprised at how well he is taking Peli’s annoyance.

“Yeah? You think that’s a good idea?” Peli responds in a tone dripping with sarcasm and you take this as your moment to try to sneak away.

This however, was unsuccessful.

“Come on y/n. Let’s take a look at his ship,” she says and the Mandalorian turns his helmet towards you.

You probably look like an absolute mess. Your chest is heaving, you are sweating, and you are not at all prepared to do any sort of repairs. You are basically in your pajamas. The Mandalorian’s gaze has you nervous enough, but this familiar feeling in your stomach has you dizzy and nauseous.

Just hold on......

You start to follow Peli to the ship while still looking at the Mandalorian. You learned very early on in your life to never take your eyes off a predator. He follows your form and you try your best to mask his incredibly strong force connection gripping your chest.

This man isn’t even trying to hide it? It’s almost as if he is reaching for me?

You make it to Peli where you finally take your eyes off of him. You can see why Peli was so mad now.

“Oof! Look at that,” she says as she scans the ship with her eyes. “You’ve got a lot of cabron scoring up top. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were in a shoot out.”

Oh my God, he was in a shoot out.

This is really not good. This man could have been followed and you could be surrounded at this very moment. You were a skilled fighter, but those kinds of odds were almost unbeatable. Especially when you were still trying to hide your identity.

You are so tense you feel like you could snap. You still feel his eyes on you, and you are praying to whatever is out there that you can just stay alive. That’s the only thing you’re good at.

“Name’s Peli Motto. That’s y/n,” she says as she points to you with her wrench.

She did not just tell him your NAME.

“This is my operation. You’re not gonna find a better mechanic on the planet,” she says as she leaned in closer to the engine.

“Yeah, I’m gonna have to rotate that. You’ve got a fuel leak. Look at this, this is a mess. How did you even land?”

All you wanted to do was scream.

He is a MANDALORIAN who was just in a SHOOT OUT. He is probably being FOLLOWED and we could be dead because of ME.

“That’s gonna set you back,” she says.

She is concerned about MONEY right now?

Peli is a smart woman, but she was walking you into a trap. You didn’t want her blood on your hands. You didn’t need any more of that.

All of this is happening while you are still on the verge of a panic attack.

This Mandalorian is strong with the force. It is squeezing your lungs and your feet and your hands and your brain. All rational thinking is out the window. You had to get out of here before he manages to suffocate you.

God you hate this feeling. A few years ago you lived with this constantly. It became a part of you. Something you enjoyed. But now...

“I’ve got five hundred imperial credits,” the Mandalorian says.

Imperial credits. Great. How did he get his hands on those?

“That’s all you got? Well..” she says and looks back at you.

“What do you think,” she asks in a teasing tone.

You try to plead to her with your eyes. You are sweating beyond belief and your brain is about to explode.

She tightens her brows in confusion at your state, but continues to bargain.

“That should at least cover the hanger,” she says and you feel your jaw almost drop to the floor.

How can she not see it?

“I’ll get you your money,” the Mandalorian mumbles and you try to take a deep breath. Passing out in front of one of the fiercest warriors in the galaxy who may be here to kill you would rip off the last bit of pride you had left. If you are going down, you are going down with a fight.

“I’ve heard that before,” Peli responds and looks at you in a joking way. Like she was trying to coax you into laughing with her.

You try to chuckle back, but it just comes out in a low breath.

You sound insane.

“Just remember—,” the Mandalorian starts

“No droids. I heard ya,” Peli finishes.

“Why do you think I keep this girl around,” she says chuckling with a pat on your back.

You muster up the strength to smile and feel holes burning in your head from the Mandalorian’s gaze.

He really knows how to stare.

The Mandalorian leaves the hanger, and it takes everything in you not to pass out right there.

You thought with him leaving it would die down, but it’s only getting worse.

“Are you ok,” Peli asks and helps you lower yourself to the ground.

You are breathing frantically now and your hands are clutched to your chest.

“He has it,” you say and you know Peli knows what you mean.

She looks at you with wide eyes and you see the realization on her face.

“Oh my god.... he was in a shootout,” she says.

“Uh huh,” you breathe out. The desperate force connection is starting to fade and you feel your lungs fill up with air once more.

“He could have been followed! Or he could be here to—“

“Kill us,” you say. Peli hates when you finish her sentences, but there was no point in caring right now.

“Ok. Get inside. If I need you I will call for you,” she says and you nod, slowly getting to your feet.

You start to walk back to your room, with Peli’s arms guiding you, while taking deep breaths, but you freeze when you sense something else coming out of the ship and you snap your head to the ramp.

“What,” Peli says as she follows your gaze.

Your heart flutters. The force is slowly starting to ease its nasty grip on you.

If you didn’t sense the creature, you would miss it.

A little green baby, wrapped in what looked like a potato sack, was strolling down the ramp, looking directly at you.

“It’s him,” you say.

“He has it.”

#din djarin #mando #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #star wars #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian fanfiction

[sirthisisa-wendys]

Wendy!! i was angst-inspired and wanted to share - Shinichiro finally having his feelings reciprocated by one of the people he confesses to, and the other Black Dragons are happy for him, until Akashi realizes he's also having feelings for this person. Of course he respects Shin enough to not get between them, but... it's fine if they get some time on the side, right...?? y/n's got two hands, what he don't know won't hurt him, etc etc. eventually it gets to the point where they feel like things can't continue the way that they have without someone feeling betrayed. so they're preparing to tell Shinichiro but they don't get to before uhhhhhh His Naptime💀 and they both have to live with that guilt and decide how they're gonna move forward, like do they get together?? do they back off of each other?? does it even feel the same if they're not sneaking around? does it make each of them think too much of Shin whenever they see each other??? it just hurts, it hurts my heart because emotions and hurts my brain because i could not write this if i tried lmao

I WAS ABOUT TO GO TO BED UNTIL I SAW THIS AND YOU GAVE ME

H E A R T B U R N

This prompt is ABSOLUTELY INSANE.

And I love it, I'm writing it. Y'all better strap the fuck in, BECAUSE MR. TAKEOMI IS MY ANGST KING. FREAKING GENIUS MASTERMIND, YOU ARE.

Rain Bringer: Shinichiro Sano & Takeomi Akashi x Fem!Reader

wc: 1.4k

tw: NSFW

masterlist

song recommendation (I have been saving this song for a good one. I think this is it):

"We should stop this..."

Takeomi's lips slide up the side of your neck and back down, ignoring your statement in the dim light of the room. The lamp in the corner is red, your signal to Takeomi that you're free for him to come over, which happened every so often after Shinichiro left your apartment for the evening.

"You don't mean that," he replies finally, and you huff, feeling his hands course up to your waist.

No, you don't mean it.

Yeah, you like Shinichiro, but Takeomi makes you feel things no man has ever made you feel. Ever.

It's as if Takeomi took your essence and wrapped it around his wrist, chaining him to you forever. Shinichiro was a safe bet. Takeomi was what your entire body lusted for and desired in the middle of the night when your bed wasn't warm.

"Kiss me," Takeomi whispers and you obey, leaning back to catch his mouth as he leans over your shoulder. "Everything's fine." You kiss each other until the result is the both of you laying in bed, bodies tangled around each other as he pumps into you with sinful and terrifying lust. "God, you're so damn perfect," he breathes, holding your wrists above your head and nudging your nipple with his tongue. "Wish I could have you like this every night."

And you do, too. Sort of.

Out of all of the Black Dragons, why did you have to fall for both Shinichiro and Takeomi? If it wasn't for that night when he walked into Shinichiro's shop and gave you that look... fuck, that heat-filled and desire bringing look!

You'd gone weak-kneed and landed right on them in front of Takeomi, taking him in the backroom like a devious and scheming whore. It wasn't okay. If Shinichiro found out... you'd both be dead. You'd gotten lucky multiple times with Takeomi's dalliances, from almost getting caught in the shop to the warehouse to the fucking bathroom at the club...

You liked Shinichiro. You did.

But Takeomi was just... something else.

After his single orgasm and your fifth one, your head rests against his chest and you hear his heart beating slowly beneath his rib cage.

"We need to tell Shinichiro," you exhale. Takeomi goes stiff, but the thought had crossed his mind before. He thought about pulling Shin aside and trying to tell him in the nicest way that he was fucking his girlfriend. But... to his shame, he never got the courage. But now that you're bringing it up, he feels some sense of 'morality' or whatever it was.

"We'll tell him tomorrow, yeah?"

"Yeah," you reply, falling asleep on the man's chest after a few moments of silence. Takeomi wished he had his cigarettes so he could smoke to ease his mind, but not wanting to wake you, and not wanting to move - he forgoes them, instead letting his mind roam while you rest.

_____________________________________________________________

The news comes that morning.

Both of you had multiple missed calls and a tear-filled Mikey and Emma trying to get a hold of you, get a hold of someone.

But you both had been deep in the throes of sleep, nestled in with each other as the sun rose on the bleak-ass day. You part without words, Takeomi pressing a kiss against your forehead as he leaves out the door, forgetting the breakfast you tried to make and the coffee that had gone cold in your silence of getting ready for the day. How could you face the younger Sano children like this?

You were sure that Takeomi's cum was still nestled between your thighs like the stain of your sin, visible for every single person to see as you walked down the street to the Sano home. You're shaking as you walk through the door, shivering even though it's not cold and your body curling in on itself, even though you haven't been hurt.

Takeomi is sitting at the table, facing away from you, but you can't find the strength to call out to him. Instead, you feel like a fraud as you cry in Keizo's arms, trying to find something that feels authentic to you deep in your heart. You had feelings for Shinichiro. But you cry more out of guilt than your pain, trying to make sense of your own actions.

At the funeral, you wonder if you had just asked Shinichiro to stay the night - instead of being so eager to push him out - if he would have survived. And again, Takeomi doesn't speak to you, and you don't try to speak to him.

Neither of you can face what you've done.

Especially not with each other.

_____________________________________________________________

A week passes.

Two.

Three.

And you find yourself in your apartment, staring at the things he left you with a sense of dread. The chain, the shirts, the bracelet he stowed away for your birthday...

You swipe the things off the dresser top, enraged at yourself for being such a horrible person. You can't face yourself - all of the mirrors have been turned around. All of his clothes were still in your closet because you knew if you touched them, you'd be forced to face what you've done.

But anger drives you forward, pulling at the items and yanking them off their hangers, each shirt, each pair of pants, each hat falling to the ground in a heap of laundry that you can't find the heart to dispose of.

You could find the heart to fuck his best friend, though.

The swarm of accusatory thoughts begins to plague your mind, and you sit on the floor, tears falling from your eyes as you try to knock them loose or free them so they can't hurt you anymore.

Your thoughts are so loud that you almost don't hear the sound of someone knocking on your door.

You swallow your tears, wipe your face, and trudge to the fixture before opening it without checking to see who it is.

Your mouth dries up when you see Takeomi, his eyes full of sorrow.

"Takeomi," you breathe, but he pushes past you, ignoring the sound you make when he grips your wrist and drags you to your room. when he sees all of the clothing scattered across the floor, something in him recognizes your dilemma, but he doesn't say a word. Instead, he turns around and kisses you roughly, pushing you against the door and swiping his tongue across your bottom lip.

It's not wrong if Shinichiro's dead, you chant to yourself, trying to make sense of the feeling in your body as Takeomi takes you and claims you as his over and over again in the bed you once shared with a dead man. And you can't help it, you rationalize.

Takeomi's the only one who understands your pain, your suffering. It's unique to both of you and drives you back together, even though his death drove you two apart.

"I don't regret what we did," Takeomi pants, moving you up and down in his lap while you face him. "I don't regret a single moment of it."

And deep down, you don't either.

_____________________________________________________________

But sadly, those feelings of lust and desire peter out with time.

You realize that the relationship between you and Takeomi was built solely on the fact that you were sneaking around, that you were being little shitty kids and playing a game that didn't make sense anymore. It's like playing hide-and-seek with a ghost, but that ghost is how you felt about Takeomi before, and how you feel about him now is staring you right in the face.

The face before you is Shinichiro's, and you stare into his dark eyes and see the betrayal lurking there in your dreams, in your nightmares, in your thoughts when you pass by the former S.S. Motors.

"We should stop this."

This time, Takeomi looks up at you and into your reflection in the mirror. His eyes seem to betray how he truly feels, which is nothing short of empty.

"Yeah."

You get dressed in silence again, just like the time when you found out Shinichiro died, and he leaves without saying and word and without a kiss. You watch him walk away into the rainy night, hands in his pockets, and wonder if Shinichiro hadn't died... would you two still be doing what you did before? Would you sneak around with him and play the gamble of getting caught? Or would you settle for a man who made you feel safe?

Maybe you'd dump him for Takeomi.

You don't know.

But all you know is that every single time you remembered Takeomi Akashi, you'd have the painful memory of betraying someone you cared about... twice.

#takeomi akashi smut #takeomi akashi x reader #shinichiro sano x reader #shinichiro sano #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers smut #tokyorev smut

[ninetailedfoxmanchi]

BTS Mafia Members - Most to Least Scary (According to Me)

A/N: This is strictly according to me and of what I find scary and unsettling, your opinions might differ and that's perfectly fine :)

1. Hoseok

Hoseok, as calm and loving as he is in the personal relationship, it is frightening to see him get mad. In my opinion, the calmest people are always the scariest angry. Besides, Hoseok also has OCD which stands for obsessive-compulsive (disorder). I also think he is the most possessive of the lot, alongside with Jimin and Jungkook. If he wants to, Hoseok can be very controlling and he is very unpredictable when it comes to conflict. Although calm in most situations, when you make Hoseok angry all he can see is red.

2. Taehyung and Yoongi (but for different reasons)

Firstly, Taehyung. It is my honest opinion that Taehyung is a bit (or a lot) crazy, sort of like Harley Quinn crazy sometimes. He is very loving and affectionate, he doesn't care about money as much as the power it brings him. Taehyung doesn't mind violence and mess, he rather enjoys it really (does that give me the pass to call him a sadist?). But the actual reason why I put him in second place as the scariest mafia member (I should really get my priorities straight) is because his love can be overwhelming sometimes. There are times Taehyung just loves too much and doesn't see how suffocating and controlling he can be.

Secondly, Yoongi. I think Yoongi is scary because he is so goddamn calm all the time. Even when he is angry, even when he is raging he almost never raises his voice. You cannot really tell how mad he actually is because he hides it so well. You only find out when it's already too late. Besides, Yoongi isn't sentimental about anyone or anything but Y/N. He doesn't particularly care about money or power unless it comes to protecting you. The truth is he can get extremely angry when he senses you're in danger or you're being disrespected and the consequences are ruthless (see Mafia! BTS - A Rival Gang Kidnapped You).

3. Jungkook and Jimin

I've decided to put them together because I think they are quite similar fundamentally. They both have positions in the mafia that are extremely violent - Jimin as the assassin and Jungkook as the interrogator. In this sense, I think Jungkook might even be scarier than Jimin. Because for Jimin, his targets are just that - numbers he needs to cross away, but for Jungkook things get personal with his victims. He enjoys what he does, although he doesn't show it particularly. He is not like Taehyung, who'd enjoy seeing the pain in his victims, but rather the fact that Jungkook is good at what he does. He loves that he is able to make anyone talk, that one look at him and the victims already know it's judgement day.

In my opinion, they are also quite scary because they are very possessive, especially Jungkook who wants his partner only for himself - for his eyes only. Jimin lets it go in this sense, because he enjoys showing off Y/N. Also I think Jungkook is a bit more unpredictable than Jimin. He is capable of acting very rationally even when he comes to his feelings for Y/N. Jungkook relies more on the rational part of his brain while Jimin reacts purely with emotion (which can make him react more brutally but in my opinion, it's more frightening when a person reacts to feelings with "logic").

4. Namjoon

So, you might wonder why is Namjoon second to last on this list. Well, it's not because he is not frightening that's for sure - all of the mafia members are scary, it's just that Namjoon gives me an honest sense of security most of the time. He is very wise for his age and doesn't act irrationally. He is also very experienced and extremely patient (something about him which I adore). That is why Namjoon usually doesn't act out or behave unpredictably unless he is particularly angry. He only gets emotional about Y/N, never about business, money or power. The role of the mafia leader is not something he would have chosen for himself, it was just something bestowed upon him. Namjoon accepted it and even though he doesn't find particular joy in the role itself, he cares deeply about his members, his community and most of all Y/N. The power he has gives him the ability to protect her better.

I do find Namjoon scary though. Whenever he clenches his jaw or the tip of his tongue protrudes in the inside of his cheek, I just want to drop to my knees. Perhaps because he is usually very calm, he could also share the first place with Hoseok, but I've decided not to because Hoseok often loses his nerve - he is more emotion-driven, while Namjoon is much more rational. Namjoon truly is a leader - he is calm, rational, wise and patient but also brutal if you come anywhere close to his family.

5. Jin

Last but definitely not least, Jin. He frightens me the least because I don't think he cares much about violence. He is vengeful, that's for sure, but he'd normally just pull the trigger and be done with it. His only concern is that you're safe. It is also very rare to see Jin deal with his enemies personally; at least in a physical way. He is an extremely good manipulator and he much prefers to outsmart his enemies and play with them mentally rather than torture them physically.

Yet Jin can still be brutal when you cross the line, especially when it comes to hurting or disrespecting his loved ones, not to mention his crown jewel - Y/N.

Conclusion: needless to say, all the mafia members are scary in their own way. This is just my perception so far into the story. Let me know what you guys think be it in the comments, chat or anonymous ask because I really love reading how you guys see the characters. :)

#bts fiction #bts mafia #bts yandere #bts #bts edit #bts gang #namjoon #jin #yoongi #jhope #hoseok #suga #rm #jimin #taehyung #v #kookie #mafia #fiction #bts imagine #bts mafia reactions #bts mafia au #bts aesthetic #gif not mine

[zv5x]

Ok not gonna lie as bad/sad as it sounds I'm kinda used to grown ass people throwing tantrums and I. Get so sick of it so fast so the angry yan!Sen post has me imagining a darling who's mostly just tired of the outbursts so they just wait till he needs to catch his breath before going "... right. You done there, big guy? Or are you gonna make my ears ring for another half hour?"

Just. No swearing. No yelling or cursing, either-- just Tired Of This Shit(tm)

[Btw this is the same anon who came up w that yan!pico x goth reader haaaiiii]

Omg hai! So nice to have you back, anon! I actually love this concept, and I honestly had a lot of fun writing this! Thanks for stopping by!

( :̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅)

Sen has absolutely no idea how to handle not getting what he wants, especially if he's throwing a tantrum to get it. Everyone who he's ever interacted with was more than happy granting whatever wish he waved them to make a reality, and he was damn sure he could have the entire school at his beck and call in an instant if he was to show the amount of anger he'll happily show you

He isn't used to not having everything and anything he wants. He's not used to having to fight this hard for a lover's fair hand. And the fact you're making him work this hard is only making him angrier. He just doesn't get it. Why aren't you cracking? Why won't you just obey? It'll be much easier for the both of you that way. In his eyes, at least.

Another thing he isn't able to handle is being or feeling looked down upon by anyone. And to see you not only acting completely indifferent to his outburst, but to mock him right to his face as well? He'll be absolutely floored. Senpai, as "AI-ish" as he may be, is human to an extent. He has operational lungs, and he thus needs to breathe. Screaming for long periods of time, especially with how much emotion goes into his yells, will leave anyone completely out of breath in no time. He'll see you finishing him off with some comment as you looking down on him. Kicking him when he's already on the ground, if you will. As soon as you finish speaking, he'll most likely punch the nearest object just to blow more steam off, even if that nearest object happens to be the wall. Senpai has an incredibly strong inferiority complex, which ironically only fuels his narcissism further. He needs to act above and superior to everyone, or everything in his brain will fall out of place. It shouldn't be this hard to court you, he doesn't understand why he has to go to these lengths

If you were to ever get "used" to Senpai's tantrums, your clear mind would definitely be able to rationalize how truly childish he really is when he's angry. He acts just like a toddler who isn't allowed to get a toy, and that essentially the situation if you look at it from a non-literal point of view. The yelling, the stamping around the room, the breaking and damage of objects, if he wasn't a murderer he would actually be quite laughable. If Senpai were to ever fully put the fact tantrums aren't working through his thick skull, he might force himself to take a different approach, and it would be a far cry from his usual anger. Yelling for just a few words of a sentence, before pausing to take a deep breath and clenching his fists. You weren't fearing him after seeing what he was already doing, so he was forced to make you fear him by alerting you to what he could do

"You know, you should be feeling lucky. Those weasels you called friends are really the only ones I've been picking off." Or "It would be a shame if your family was next up on my list, wouldn't it (Y/N)?"

While Senpai is childish at some of his worst moments, don't underestimate him and how much of a danger he really is. He has his eyes set right on you, he wants you. He needs you, he craves you. And he'll do absolutely everything in his power to make sure he gets to have you.

#yandere senpai x reader #yandere senpai #fnf senpai #yandere senpai fnf #senpai x reader #fnf imagines #yandere fnf #fnf x reader #fnf hcs #fnf #friday night funkin headcannons #friday night funkin #friday night funkin hcs #yandere friday night funkin #friday night funkin imagines #yandere x reader #yandere hcs #yandere #yandere imagines #male yandere #yandere boy

[quillify-tries-to-talk]

Defense and Love

(A rewrite of that scene in Chain of Gold where Cordelia does not defend her brother when James calls him unworthy of his sister's love. Because I was angry. Because CC knows zero things about sibling interaction.)

Lemme know if you like it!

“I know you hate me for how I treated you in school, and rightfully so,” Alastair said. It was a wonder his voice was not shaking. “But however much you hate me, do not take it out on my sister.”

Please, the word hung from the very tip of his tongue, unspoken and desperate. His heart was galloping inside his chest with an almost painful intensity, even more so under Cordelia's watchful gaze. He couldn't break now. Not in front of her. She would ask, and how was he going to explain why he'd distorted into something he didn't recognize himself?

“Alastair," said Herondale in that low, cruel voice that took him back to the Academy, his own past coming back to haunt him, "you made my life a living hell at the Academy. But I’d never take it out on Cordelia. That’s something you would do, not something I would do.”

So he thought Alastair would hit his own sister. Good God. You don't know anything, rich boy, he wanted to snap. You have no idea what you're talking about. 

Perhaps it was his own fault. He’d hurt so many people in his quest to guard his family. His life had turned into one horrific, monotonous nightmare. Protect them. Protect Layla. Let her be happy. Let my mother be happy. Let Father never come back.

The rational part of his brain had taken over the reins. He stood up straighter, schooled his expression into blank, icy indifference, the mask he’d perfected at school. Let Herondale think what he wanted. Alastair had a job to do and he wasn't about to let patronizing sermons get in his way.

“I see how it is. In school I had the power, and here you have the power to lord it over me. What’s your game? What do you want with my sister?”

“Your sister,” James said, speaking with a slow, deliberate coldness. “Your sister is the only thing keeping me from punching you in the face. Your sister loves you, Angel knows why, and you aren’t even the least bit grateful.”

The words were more powerful than any Shadowhunter weapon. They ravaged the remains of his heart over and over again.

He was ten and watching his father trip on the floor of his bedroom as he collected the brandy bottles littered around. Elias had been too drunk to tell who’d been into his room.

He was twelve again and practicing the iratze. It will help Baba, he'd thought then, childish hope still guiding him through the dark descending over the horizon of their lives.

“You have no idea what I’ve done for my sister." His voice came out rough and shaking. Horror of all horrors, Cordelia was still looking at him as though seeing him in a new light. Did she agree with James? She could. She was thriving here. "You have no idea about our family. You don’t know the first thing—”

He was fifteen again and refusing to train with Layla for the hundredth time because his body ached like one giant bruise. It was Pounceby. His jaw and neck tingled with the sting of the phantom bruise. He was watching the hope in his sister's eyes die. I am sorry, he'd wanted to say then. I truly am. But I can't let you see this. Live, Layla.

Something knocked against his shoulder. Hard. Only his training, both physical and mental, kept him from stumbling back in surprise.

It was Cordelia. She’d come to stand in front of him, the way Alastair had done when they were kids whenever their father had been home. Like a shield, he realized in disbelief. He wanted to push her out of the way, but her outstretched arm only resulted in him shifting to the side so he could catch her expression.

Anger.   

He'd seen his sister annoyed. He'd seen his sister frustrated. He'd seen her distressed. He'd seen her scheme and calculate, always finding a way out of anything with her brilliant mind and ambition.

But never before had he seen her like this: dark eyes aflame, hands curled into fists, shoulders bunching up as though she was preparing to land a blow.

Oh. Oh no, no, no, no. A number of curses flashed through his head in all the languages he knew. Farsi. French. English. Urdu. 

He looked down at her, and his expression visibly softened. Alastair tried not to narrow his eyes. 

"James," Cordelia was saying. Her voice sounded normal. "You'd better go."

“Are you sure?” he said in a low voice. “I won’t leave you alone, Cordelia, not unless you wish me to.”

She seemed to rise taller, and in that moment Alastair was reminded why Cortana had chosen her. His sister looked the way their mother was, fire and embers and a gaze so piercing that the other person was left stuttering, though they'd originally come to scrutinize every inch of her. The colour of her eyes, her skin, why she covered her hair with a roosari.

He wished he had their courage. He wished he hadn't withdrawn into the shadows.

Thorns in your way, Esfandiyār, whispered Baba's voice inside his head. Why look back when you can look ahead?

But that would've entailed far worse consequences than a sermon.

Ahead? His thirteen-year-old, iratze-fumbling himself had wanted to snap as he'd stared at the glass sticking out of his foot, blood dripping on the floor. Ahead at your next bottle, Father? 

Cordelia's voice rang out in the hall, sharper than the crack of a whip. "I will say this once and only once, James Herondale. So listen carefully." She took another step closer and Herondale's eyes actually widened. In surprise? Or in whatever the hell had happened between them before coming home? Alastair thought dryly. 

"Do not for one moment think that you are my saviour," Cordelia said through her teeth. The words sent a jolt of surprise through him. "I am thankful for all your help, believe me, but my love for my brother has absolutely nothing to do with this."

A faint smile curled on the edges of Herondale's lips. "You still don't know what he did?"

Cordelia raised her brows, and oh there it was. The sibling resemblance. Clear as day in the anger cloaked behind disdain and a smile. "Why does my love for my family have to come between your feud?" she demanded. "Do I require your blessing to love them? You have notions about my brother that I would have expected from the Pouncebys."

He looked like she’d slapped him awake. "Daisy,  I—"

She took a step back, and the anxiety on his face heightened. Cordelia herself was trembling.

And Alastair? He still couldn't believe his eyes. He couldn't move, save to draw breath. The scene unfolding before him seemed like a fever dream. Cordelia didn’t know how he’d tormented Herondale and Fairchild at the Academy. She had no idea of the bomb going off when he’d been mere inches from the building. She didn’t know why everyone hated him so much. He knew, and perhaps he was a greedy monster for making his sister choose between her love and her family.  

She raised a silencing hand when Herondale opened his mouth. "You assume that you know my brother better than I do. You assume that I am still Daisy—the girl with pretty ribbons in her hair, who needs your help to distinguish right from wrong. I will find out what happened at the Academy, but I will not stand idle while you say Alastair doesn’t deserve my love. You don’t get to choose who does or does not deserve me." She smiled, eyes glittering with the storms of the night. "You hurt my family, Mr. Herondale, and you will face my blade.”

Silence descended. Herondale’s eyes narrowed slightly as he glanced between Alastair and Cordelia. A flicker of longing passed across his face as he saw Layla, there and gone. Alastair was gifted with a long, hard, assessing look. 

“You may take your leave now," Cordelia said coldly.

James's expression shuttered. Was Alastair the only one who noticed his sister's wince? Guilt twisted in his gut.

"Very well, Miss Carstairs," Herondale said in a low monotone. "As you wish."

As soon as he was out of sight, Cordelia seemed to shrink, deflate. 

Alastair snapped back to his senses. There were a number of things demanding his attention but he crossed the room to catch his sister by the elbow, older brother once more. His head was still reeling with the impossible absurdity of what had transpired. 

"Layla?" He tested out the name hesitantly. "What? I mean, you shouldn't have—"

"He said you don't deserve my love." She turned to face him, and to his horror, her dark eyes gleamed with tears. Tears on my behalf, he thought dizzily. 

What was this day?

In all the eighteen years of his life, he’d been used to working from the sidelines, slow and quiet. People did not need to see his tears, his frustration at himself. Only the anger and the sneering indifference he put up to keep them away. It had always been that way, ever since he had held Cordelia in his arms as a confused two-year-old. 

She is so small, mâmân!

I know, joon. Will you promise to help her?

“Why, Layla?” he snapped, and she flinched. He wanted to hit himself all over again. “Why did you do that? Herondale is not wrong. I have hurt people. I have done horrible, despicable things. You’re going to lose out on potential allies because of me, do you realize that? How will you save Father then? I thought--” He broke off, not wanting to say the dreaded word.

She lifted her chin and glared. “You thought what, dâdâsh?”

It was jarring to have heard her defend him, even more jarring than hearing the language of his home, the language he’d spent years shoving down because it tended to attract the wrong sort of attention. It was jarring that she’d even noticed his trembling hands or the tears that were clawing at his throat, begging to be let out. It had been years since he’d truly cried but London seemed hell bent on breaking him. He'd never really thought how much he'd needed Cordelia by his side. How many years had passed with just pushing and pushing and pushing people away until time sped by and they simply grew out of their love for you.

His sister was no longer a baby. She was nearly as tall as him, looking him in the eye, silent and waiting. 

"I thought you-you... loved him."

She closed her eyes. "I do. I think so. It doesn't mean I stand by idly while he goes on insulting my brother. It certainly does not mean that I hold back on my own feelings." Her eyes opened. A wry smile played on her lips. “You keep forgetting that only I am allowed to insult you, Alastair.”

Hoarse laughter escaped him, and Cordelia looked delighted to have been the cause. 

Taglist: @youngreckless @eugeniaslongsword (look, your annoyance inspired me lol), @cant-think-of-anything @reesecarstairs @cherilyn-rose @carstairs-hopelessly

#alastair carstairs #tsc #chain of iron spoilers #thomas lightwood #chain of iron #choi spoilers #cordelia carstairs #chain of gold #here it is people #I finally did it #first fanfic ever fuelled by my rage lmaoo #cassandra clare #tlh #tsc: fic #my writing #div rambles about shit