#Help I saw a man so beautiful I might have a heart attack.

[villain-in-love]

JAMIL WITH HIS HAIR DOWN!!! IN A LOUNGEWEAR!!!!! THIS IS NOT A DRILL, IT IS FINALLY HAPPENING!!!!!

What if I told you that I literally let out a scream when I saw this? BECAUSE I'VE BEEN WAITING FOUR YEARS FOR THIS MOMENT.

Anyways, Jamil, my beloved, Happy Birthday! And move, please, because I'll be also getting in there to cuddle.

[deantfwinchester]

A New Chapter

Pairing: No-Outbreak!AUJoel x Teacher!Reader (pregnant)

Moving forward in the narrative a bit y'all. Our girl is pregnant now, so we're a couple years into their marriage. The premise of this one's a little goofy, but he looks so pretty in the Gladiator trailer I couldn't help myself.

Summary: You and Sarah go Halloween costume hunting and find the perfect family costume, much to Joel's chagrin. He'll do just about anything for his little girl, though. :)

Warnings: fluff as per usual. a teeny bit of angst and emotional h/c, but so so fluffy. a couple of suggestive little innuendos for fun, but very much PG as usual.

A/N: I'll make a little timeline at some point explaining how these all fit into the same universe, but they're definitely the same couple so far! I've got plenty more planned for these two, and I'm excited to keep going, but I've also got a kind of multi-chap AU situation I may try to write? Idk, guess we'll see which bulleted fic I'm inspired to expand next, lol.

Word Count: 3.3k

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“You can’t be serious,” Joel looks at you, exasperated. 

“Serious as a heart attack,” you respond, smiling wide. 

“Hell no!” he says, amused at the very idea. 

“What, Sarah’s got that precious little goddess dress from the costume store, and they were right next to it!” you exclaim. 

___________________________

You’ve just presented Joel with a gold and white roman general costume you found while you and Sarah were shopping for Halloween costumes. You took her to the costume shop after picking her up from school and the two of you were over the moon. Halloween is your favorite holiday hands down - you and Sarah have always had that in common. It was one of the first things you bonded over, and Joel was thrilled that the two of you wanted to do that together. You hadn’t been looking forward to finding a maternity costume though - it was still early September, but you knew one that fit well right now would be pretty uncomfy by the end of October.

You and Sarah walk a few aisles in before stopping in your tracks at a beautiful mythology display - long dresses and beautiful accessories with the names of different Greco-Roman goddesses in a row, with a family-costume display showing mannequins of an adult man, adult woman, and a teen girl and young boy. The young boy’s costume had a shield and chest plate of worn-looking plastic, and the teen girl’s costume was a long ombré-colored dress with little gold appliqués printed on the hem.

Sarah was enchanted. And you were enamored with the childlike wonder she felt touching the low-quality polyester and spandex blend. The adult women’s costume mirrored the toga-like shape of the girl’s, but was one-shouldered and of a different shade. Sarah saw them and immediately knew what she wanted to be for Halloween this year - a princess in this goddess dress and you an empress to match. The names on these costumes were inaccurate as hell, but you weren’t here to hold Spirit Halloween to historical accuracy or academic integrity. The look on her face made it clear you couldn’t say no - especially when you saw the Maternity option hanging in a thick plastic bag next to it closed with a plastic snap. At least this costume would hang loosely no matter how much you’re showing by Halloween. Might even drive Joel a little crazy. 

Once you agreed to it, you decided just the two of you couldn’t do it alone - not when there was only one member of your family to be left out. You grab the Adult Men’s costume hanging next to the mannequin - it was different from the boy’s, not some sort of battle armor, but labeled Emperor to match the adult women’s. It’s white and lined in gold leaf appliqués just like the goddess costumes. It's a beautiful costume, with a cape and a little caged skirt thing hanging over the tunic. You’re especially fond of the myriad golden accessories accompanying this costume - wide bangles and a little headband of golden leaves. You’re torn between cackling at how much Joel would undoubtedly protest such an elaborate costume and practically salivating at the image of him wearing it. He’d look ridiculously hot in this costume — you’d just need to convince him. 

Joel isn’t totally averse to costume-wearing, especially for his girls’ favorite holiday. He would put on a little something here and there to appease you or Sarah - maybe a cape or a few accessories. You’d seen pictures from one Halloween a few years before you met them with Sarah in a pretty little pink fairy costume and Joel in a much too small pair of wings and a feathery tiara, holding a matching wand. Seeing it never fails to make you smile.

Joel is a wonderful father to Sarah - he can always tell her No when necessary, whether it has to do with her health and safety, development, or due to financial constraints, but always explains to her why. As much as he’d love to spoil her to pieces, he wants to make sure she grows up with a realistic understanding of the world around her, and understands both her privilege and the difference between Want and Need. The way he communicates with her and makes parenting choices with a focus on the kind of person she is and will become is in large part what drew you to him - to a place where you not only felt comfortable being with him, but having a child with him. You are more than confident he’ll be a wonderful father to your next child as well — he’d made that clear when you’d first found out.

When it wasn’t necessary to tell Sarah No, however - he couldn’t ever look his little girl in the eye and resist. Letting her polish his nails, play with glittery make-up, and wearing little wings to match her own were just a few of the things he’d done to make her smile. If the only reason to say “No” was that he didn’t want to, well it simply wasn’t reason enough.

With this knowledge in mind, you were fairly certain Joel could be convinced to put on this elaborate costume - maybe with some work boots instead of the mannequin’s little sandals, though. And a pair of shorts under the skirty pieces, probably. Once you and Sarah have picked out the shades you want and spent way too much time staring at the wall of accessories for your own costumes, you leaf through the men’s costume bags for Joel’s size and snag one off the rack. Sarah’s eyes go wide when you turn around and raise your eyebrows at her, and a huge grin spreads across her face - she’s laughing excitedly at just the prospect of her dad in this elaborate costume, and shaking her head vigorously while agreeing - it has to come home. 

____________________________________________

“C’mon baby. Y’all’s are beautiful but this?,” says Joel, gesturing to the elaborate white costume you’ve removed from the bag and hung up to present to him in all its gilded glory. “This is insane. Looks more like a damn wedding dress than a Halloween costume.”

“Oh but Joel, it’s so beautiful! I know it’s a little elaborate, but Sarah and I are already gonna be matching. We want you to do it with us! Dress as a family for the party,” you plead, and you can see his resolve beginning to crack. He shakes his head, both hands on his hips, and glowers at you, though it lacks any real contempt.

“Darlin’ I think it’s precious that you and Sarah got these little matching costumes. Hell, nothing could make my heart happier than seeing you two looking so gorgeous together in these pretty dresses she chose. But y’all are my beautiful little stars of the show, let’s be honest,” he finishes, placing his hand heavily on your hip and drawing you closer. “You, Sarah, and her perfect little sister on the way,” he grins, resting his other hand on your belly and locking eyes with you. 

“That’s kinda the thing though, Joel. This is the last Halloween we can do this, just the three of us. Every Halloween after this will be a different kind of special, but it’ll never just be us and Sarah again after this year. You know she’d love it, no matter what the reason,” you say with a slight smirk, knowing you and Sarah both want this, at least in part, to mess with Joel. 

He locks eyes with you,and his are gentle and wistful at the idea. You’re both elated at the mere thought of the future ahead with your growing family, but the change is a big shift for all of you. You worry about Sarah more than anything. You’ve had this conversation a couple of times already — the age gap between Sarah and the baby is so big, you just worry she’ll feel left out when you two get busy, or get hyper focused on the baby those first few months. 

You aren’t afraid to admit that you’re scared — scared you won’t be able to give the baby everything she needs or scared you won’t bond like you should. It’s a big relief to you, a new mom, that this won’t be Joel’s first rodeo. He’s already assuaged your worries on multiple occasions during this pregnancy and preparation period with his existing knowledge in child rearing. There’s not a man in the world better suited to fatherhood, and his quiet confidence and reassurance when your anxieties arise comfort you more than he’d ever understand.

But the fear is still there — fear of not being enough, leaving Joel to feel like he’s alone in this all over again, even with you standing beside him. You’re especially scared you won’t ensure Sarah continues to get all the attention and love she needs. You know fully well that your love can only multiply — it does so a little each year a new set of students arrives at your classroom door — but your attention can unfortunately divide, and sometimes will, despite your best efforts. 

Yes you both want to mess with Joel a little with your request that he wear this elaborate costume that’ll make him a bit bashful; but more than anything, you want him to do it with the two of you for Sarah. To make that choice to remind her that the two of you would do anything for her — as goofy as the request may be — no matter how much your lives change in the coming years. You want to do as many special things for her as possible beforehand — and you need his help for this one. 

“I just — I know it’s silly, but I want her to enjoy this chapter as much as possible before things change. And I know you do too, I’m just…,” you look down at your feet as you say this, unable to find the words to continue. Your eyes mist over as you think about it, and before you know it, you’re in his arms, face pressed tightly against his chest. His hand holds the back of your head, pulling you close, thumb moving gently back and forth over your crown, soothing the concerns he could see encroaching as you spoke. 

“Sweetheart.‘S not silly at all,” he pauses, searching for the words to help you find solace in your unease. “I know you’re worried about that, I do. And do you know how much it means to me that this is on your mind? That you’re busy growing a little person in there, having to think about mothering a baby for the first time, and she’s at the top of your list?” Joel stares at you with a sincerity that aches in your chest before he continues, “And that’s why I want you to remember that she knows. You’re an incredible mother already, baby, and none of that’s gonna change. The fact that you’re concerned about it in the first place is enough. I really believe that, baby. Sarah’ll always know that we’re here.”

You’re crying for real now, burying your face in his chest again as he squeezes you tight, resting his head on yours as it lies in the crook of his neck. He closes his eyes and holds you for a bit longer, slightly swaying back and forth to soothe you. He knows the hormones are playing a part in your worry and reaction, but also knows better than to identify them as such. No matter the cause, you’re experiencing these feelings — and no matter how fleeting they are, he’ll make sure you get what you need. 

After a minute or two of holding you in silence, Joel pulls his head back and looks down at you, rubbing your back to rouse you from your trance. You look up at him to see a small smile on his face and enough warmth in his eyes to have you weeping all over again.

“Alright darlin’, let’s go give this ridiculous getup a shot,” he says, gesturing toward the bedroom with his head.

“Really Joel?,” you ask, voice filled with hope and gratitude. 

“Course baby. If I’m gonna wear it, gonna damn well make sure it fits right.”

“Wait’ll you see the accessories!” you say excitedly, wiping your eyes and sniffing back the last of your tears.

“Oh good lord,” he huffs out, rolling his eyes playfully before grabbing your hand and leading you to the bedroom, costume in hand.

______________________________________________________

~ Halloween Night ~

“Have I told you yet how gorgeous you look in this costume?” you ask in Joel’s ear as Sarah runs ahead of the two of you toward the door to Tommy’s. 

“Only about seven times since I first put it on, sweet girl,” he says to you through a smile, chuckling at your insistence. “Better give it a rest, or my head’s gonna be too big to fit through the door by the time we get home.” He smirks at you, squeezing your hand in his as you cross the yard. 

“Ah, I think it’ll fit just fine,” you reply, rubbing a gentle hand against his chest. “Did I tell you how sexy you are tonight yet?,” you whisper closer to his ear now, smiling while you do it, grinning wider as a light blush touches his cheeks before he smiles at you as well.

“Hmm, I’m not sure. Mighta mentioned it once or twice.” His brows furrow as he feigns consideration. “I’d much rather talk about how incredible you look tonight, darlin’,” he whispers into your neck before pressing a kiss to your bare shoulder, all too softly for the hormones rushing through your system. He knows it too, when your eyes go wide and your own cheeks flush, and is far too satisfied with himself for your liking. Years into your relationship and he can still drive you wild with so little — you have plenty of tricks up your sleeve as well, but the second trimester has been giving him an unfair advantage lately. 

Before you can gather your thoughts, you’re behind Sarah at Tommy’s door as he opens it to greet you, cowboy hat on and beer in hand. Otherwise, still dressed in his work flannel and jeans. Damn, Joel’s gotta be jealous right now. 

Tommy hugs Sarah and ushers her inside before looking at the two of you, eyes widening as he takes in Joel’s appearance, pretending to hide the elation growing on his face at seeing his brother in such an elaborate outfit. 

“Well ain’t that a lotta gold? Not sure what I expected when Sarah told me, but this wasn’t it,” he says, biting back a laugh. “Gotta say brother, didn’t think you had it in ya,” he says, clapping Joel on the shoulder, unable to conceal his entertained grin any longer. Joel rolls his eyes in response, and along with Tommy, looks to you.

“Now you look beautiful honey. Though I gotta say, if you’re goin for one of the Vestal Virgins, I think you may be in trouble,” he jokes, looking down at your growing bump and pulling you in for a hug.

“Aren’t you a riot,” you say flatly, rolling your eyes and smiling at his comment before hugging him back, “Hi Tommy. Y’all having fun in here?”

He moves aside so you and Joel can enter the house and Joel follows after Sarah to grab you both a drink. He’ll grab a beer like his brother, while you’re relegated to a soda without caffeine for the time being. 

“Course we are!” He waits until Joel moves further away and leans toward you with a mischievous glint in his eye. “I have to say — Thank you. Thank you so much. For that,” he gestures toward Joel at the little drink bar with Sarah. 

You chuckle a little with him, “You’re welcome. Go easy on him tonight though, alright? I know he’d much rather be wearing what you are right now,” you ask.

“Alright, alright, I promise. But please take pictures. Take so many pictures,” he laughs, and you laugh with him. “Seldom I get to see my brother like this, I’m gonna need a record of it.”

“Oh yeah, that’s kinda the idea. Speaking of which, you really put some effort in on the costume for tonight, huh?,” you ask, unimpressed, but good-natured.  

“Hey, I’m hosting! A little busy gettin’ everything together. Besides, a cowboy hat always suits me,” he gives a winning smile before changing the subject. “Now how are you and my little niece doing tonight?,” he asks, moving a hand down to your belly and bending a bit to greet the little one from outside. You place your hand on top of his and move it over to the side where you’ve been feeling the baby moving around lately.

“Say something to her again,” you instruct, “she’s been wiggling up a storm today.”

Tommy speaks to the baby above your belly again and you feel a little foot move ever so slightly against his hand. The way he lights up warms your heart, and you’re nearly overcome with emotion. He’s so excited to feel her that he hugs you to him once again. 

The two of you talk a bit longer about the newfound quickening, and you’re elated at his enthusiasm. It’s an incredible feeling, knowing just how much this baby will be loved — how surrounded she’ll be with family, and how happy everyone will be to have her there. Before you can think yourself into happy tears, Joel returns, smiling wide overhearing his brother’s excitement. He has a beer in one hand and an odd-looking green drink in the other, adorned with a black bendy draw covered in skulls. Your eyes widen as he hands you the cloudy slime-colored monstrosity. Tommy looks warily at the drink, and excuses himself to go talk to Sarah instead. 

“Oh Joel, what is that?!” you ask amused.

“Go on, try it darlin’” he says, gesturing for you to take a sip.The morning sickness had been rough in the beginning, and though it had tapered a few weeks back, you weren’t exactly looking to reawaken the nausea anytime soon. 

You sip with hesitation. It’s surprisingly tasty, a little fruity and fizzy. When you look down in it to find two gummy eyeballs staring back at you, bobbing around in the green. You laugh aloud at the sight, and Joel smiles so wide his eyes nearly close - he has two favorite sounds, and that’s one of them. Soon enough, he’ll have three. 

“It’s delicious, but what the hell is it?,” you ask through the laughter. 

“Sarah and I thought you might like a little Halloween mocktail to shake things up. I think it’s lemonade, sprite, and some of that blue stuff? Might be some pineapple or orange juice in there too, I think Sarah just started adding stuff. Gummy eyeballs were apparently a necessary garnish - she said they’re ‘on theme’ and that you’d agree.”

“She’s very right. Thank you sweetie, I appreciate it,” you say, taking another sip before kissing his cheek. You got him this time, and he grows a slight bashful blush at the public affection, but it’s never unwelcome. 

“Course. Happy to experiment for you anytime, sweetheart,” he grins back and you lose the battle, jaw dropping open a bit in response, eyes wide at him. 

He laughs again and puts his arm around your waist, pulling you into his side, before kissing you gently, just enough to keep the rise going. The two of you look over to see Tommy and Sarah talking excitedly, mixing some sort of other “punch,” this time in a shade of red. You raise your cup to Joel’s lips, and he takes a sip, looking surprised at the quality of their amateur mixology. You lean your head against his shoulder as you both look on at the party, wistfully watching your daughter enjoy herself. You stay there for a while, doing everything to remember the final Halloween of this beautiful chapter, just before a new one begins.

[thedepthsoffandomminds]

The cold truth

Artful Dodger one shot. Jack Dawkins x fem reader

Before Fagin's return, before Belle, before it all there was y/n. The first woman to break Jack's heart. He kept her portrait in a silver locket, the chain hanging on his bed. One day, long after her operation Belle sits in the hospital going over medical text when Hetty comes into her. Seeing the locket in Belle's hand she tells her the story.

"She was a lovely girl, a nurse here. Odd though because she was married. So many of us live a solitary life but not y/n. She was such a wonderful spirit. I'm convinced she could make the dead dance with her joy. None of us could have known. Jack was the first to notice the changes, they were so small at first. Y/n had always had the most beautiful red hair, it was so thick she could hardly contain it and would have it tied several plates pinned about her head. I remember Jack coming to me one morning, the spirals were gone. It was all chopped off up to her shoulders. Y/n wouldn't tell us what happened.

Then it was the bruises. Poking out of her dress on her neck, her arms you know. She just kept saying she was clumsy, but we spent hours with her and none of us ever saw her even trip. Jack tries to ask her once but she brushed him off.

I don't know if it was her original joy or the subsequent lack of it, but the doctor seemed fixated on her. He needed to know what was happening.

One time he bumped into her, knocking her ribs and the touch sent y/n to the floor. Shocked by the reaction Jack took her aside and checked her over. Y/n had a bruise that covered her whole left side. Angry and red, purple, blue. Still she wouldn't tell us a thing. Jack took it upon himself to look after her. Noting that she would often work a whole day without a bite of food he began making extra lunch and sitting with her.

He would talk about her when she wasn't around. Retelling her jokes and talking of her beauty.

Of course we know now that it was her husband. He cut her hair off with an axe. Said she was too vain about her appearance and a nurse didn't need long hair. The beatings were worse. He would attack her for any little mistakes. Her ribs? That was because she had burnt dinner one night. He was an awful man. We only found out because Jack found her wandering the streets on his way home for the cat and bagpipes. He had kicked her out of their house. I don't remember what for, but Jack found her and he took care of her. By then the only time I saw her happy was when they were sat together. She told him everything and he promised to help her. Said she could have a bed in our nurses quarters. She even appeared happy for a while, the two of em did.

A week or so later she went home to collect her things, convinced her husband would be at work. He wasn't.

She managed to get back here. I'll never know how she made it. One broken leg, a fractured elbow and a knife in her gut. She did though, she came stumbling in. I think I screamed when I saw her. Jack rushed her into the theatre, but this was about a year before you came along. There was nothing he could do with the knife wound. That damn blade was wide enough to take down an elephant. Ripped her up so badly inside. She couldn't breathe and the blood was pouring into her lungs.

Jack tried and tried until she asked him to stop. Exhausted and covered in her blood, Jack was ready to collapse himself. She held tight to his hand and looked into his eyes.

"No, no y/n, you gotta fight this. You can't die." Jack begged her.

"Jack, I have to go. I'm sorry. You can't save me." Her voice was hardly more than a whisper. Jack held on to her. I had hoped his will alone might make God knit her back together. My faith took a knock that day and I'm not afraid to admit it. The look on that boys face when they insisted on taking her away. Tim had to hold him to keep Jack from following her body to the grave.

We all changed after that day. The first time one of our own bad died so brutally. Jack wasn't the same. He threw himself into his work, his competition with Sneed.

You know there are times when he still visits her grave. Maybe that's why he was so desperate to save you, Lady Belle. Jack's poor heart couldn't take another love being ripped away from him. It's a lovely portrait of her. " She finishes by glancing over Belle's shoulder at the lockett.

"he's in prison, so you think, do you think you could take me to her grave?" Belle asks.

It's a small wooden cross with her name carved into it.

"we couldn't afford a real headstone. " Hetty explains. Belle bent to touch the wood, running her fingers over the carved wood.

"What happened to the husband?"

"Got himself hanged for his troubles three weeks after. It took three hours for him to die. Come on now miss we should get you back before you're missed." Hetty reminded her.

"of course. I shall bring y/n flowers tomorrow."

"very good Milady "

[vividiana]

come along with me (and put your mind at ease)

pairing: Astarion x f!Dark Urge

rating: M for canon-typical Durge thoughts, mild gore, and sexually suggestive language

word count: 11k

summary: flirting seems hard enough even without a voice in your head urging you to eviscerate anyone who gets too close. so when Astarion approaches Eve with a proposition, she's... a bit frazzled, to say the least. but despite what she promises herself, she can’t seem to stay away from him.

a/n: hi! I usually only post on ao3, but a couple of you seemed to really enjoy the wip snippets I've been sharing of this piece, so I decided to post it on tumblr as well. hope you enjoy!

the title is from "a little less conversation" by elvis presley

read on ao3

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Alright, perhaps they didn’t have to kill Gandrel. How much of a threat was a monster hunter who couldn’t even recognize his own prey? He was clearly clueless, so they could have just left him to stumble around in that desolate bog, and they might have never crossed paths again.

But Eve recalls vividly the sinking feeling that gripped at her heart the moment the man revealed his intentions, how she feared for Astarion’s safety, how enraged she was by the mere thought that someone was setting out to hurt him. Surely, she would have reacted the same way if this concerned any of her other companions… She had simply started to grow protective over her group. That’s all there was to it. 

And who knows—if Astarion’s suspicions were correct and if the man really was sent out by his former master, then surely it was better to err on the side of caution (and violence.) Perhaps Gandrel recognized Astarion when he saw him, but realized he had lost the element of surprise and was outnumbered. Perhaps instead of attacking right there and then, he decided to track them later and capture Astarion under the veil of night. 

Of course none of these considerations occurred to her at the moment, but they did help Eve justify her decision later. Even with all the mental acrobatics involved, that was still easier than admitting to herself that perhaps she was starting to care about Astarion more than she would like to.

It’s been two days since that encounter and two things have been bothering her ever since. First, Astarion had grown strangely quiet, which was quite alarming. He of course still delighted the group with a snarky quip and a healthy dose of complaining every now and then, but most of the time, he seemed absent and lost in thought. He also seemed to be staring at her a lot, though perhaps that was just Eve seeing what she wanted to see.

The second thing, far more unnerving, is that the murderous voice in her mind has been particularly active, very pleased with the Gur blood she spilled. Her head has been pounding, far worse than usual, and overall she’s been… well, a mess.

And it is while Eve is in that disheveled state that Astarion decides to approach her and start perhaps their most bizarre conversation as of yet.

Eve is crouched by a hyena’s corpse, working to cut off both of its ears—which, as Gale reminded her earlier today, were quite valuable alchemical ingredients. As she slices through the animal’s flesh with her hunting knife, the voice in her head won’t shut up about how beautiful the whole bloody image is.

“There you are.”

Astarion’s voice comes from right behind her, and Eve jumps, the clean cut she was working on now jagged. 

Child’s work. The voice reprimands her. You can do better than that. 

Astarion crouches beside her, strangely close, then puts his hand on hers, the one gripping at the knife. The sensation sends a shiver down her spine and Eve realizes that this is the first time he’s ever touched her outside of drinking her blood or being caught in the whirlwind of battle (and that one time he ambushed her, of course.) She stares at his hand on hers, dazed by the novelty of it.

“May I?” 

Eve nods, letting go of the knife and watches him take over and cut off the remaining parts with one skilled flick of his wrist.

“There you go.” He hands her the ear and she stashes it away into her alchemical pouch. 

They both rise to their feet and look around this stretch of the Risen Road, scattered with corpses and wrecked carriages with lost merchandise. Wyll and Karlach are still nowhere to be found—the two decided to scope out the path to the northwest as Eve and Astarion stayed behind to loot whatever they deemed useful.

But Astarion doesn’t seem to be in a rush to return to his task, instead looking at her with a strange intensity, as if pondering something.

“You’ve been quiet,” Eve notes as she picks some pieces of gnoll entrails off her clothing. “It’s unlike you.”

“I’ve been thinking.”

“About?” She stops and looks up at him, realizing how close he is standing.

His lips curl up into that annoyingly delightful smirk when he says:

“About you. About the time we’ve spent together, the moments we shared… And I don’t just mean that lovely neck of yours.”

The sudden shift in tone takes her aback at first, but Eve can’t deny that she isn’t captivated by the way his voice lowers, eyes narrowing dangerously as they glide down her body before meeting her gaze again.

“I’m growing to like the whole package, honestly,” he continues. “And you clearly like me too, so…” 

“So…?” Heat kindles just below her skin, and Eve curses herself for blushing so easily.

“So, I think it might be time to turn some fantasies into reality—we’ve been waiting long enough.”

As if activated by a keyword, the voice in her mind returns, dripping with excitement and bloodlust as it echoes in her mind:

Yes. Don’t keep your beautiful fantasies to yourself. The world needs to see what you’re capable of. 

“Oh. Um. What– what do you mean?” Eve asks, partly to stall so she can collect her thoughts, partly because all of this seems too absurd to actually be happening.

“Oh, don’t be coy,” Astarion drawls and leans in to whisper directly into her ear: “Your body has already given you away.”

He knows. He knows about the twisted, bloodied visions birthed by your brilliant mind.

“Umm.” Eve swallows hard, warmth blossoming in her chest at his proximity, at the way his voice vibrates on her skin. “Has it?”

“Oh yes,” Astarion chuckles as he leans away, now reaching out to trace a finger down the column of her throat. “I could feel it when I was getting lost in your neck. Your little… shakes of excitement. You enjoyed it, didn’t you?”

How excitingly he would shake beneath you once you wrap your hands around that pretty pallid neck. How sweetly he would scream.

Eve chuckles nervously, taking half a step away, not sure what to do with her eyes. 

“Oh, I think that’s just… one of the symptoms of blood loss, you know?”

“Mhm…” Astarion steps closer, his gaze unwavering. “So you’re telling me that all those nights I’ve held your squirming body, pressed my lips to your flushed skin… Not once did you wish for something… more? Because I certainly did.”

Yes. Yes. Something more. Something filthier. Something more vile.

Eve just stares at him, trapped between his words and the incessant, pestering thoughts. 

Astarion seems to lose his patience, dropping his seductive cadence for a moment when he says:

“I do mean sex, to be clear. Are you familiar with the concept? Or is that another thing you’ve forgotten about?”

At that, the voice in her head finally falls silent and Eve is left with the intensity of Astarion’s stare and the warmth rising up to her cheeks.

“Sex,” she repeats blankly. “With me?”

The moment the question leaves her mouth, she mentally rolls her eyes at herself. Fuck, why am I like this? 

Astarion blinks, his mouth slightly agape. 

“No,” he says, visibly exasperated. “I’m just practicing my seductive spiel on you before asking out our resident gith.”

Eve finds herself smiling involuntarily now that her mind has quieted down, and Astarion’s snarky self has returned.

“I applaud your courage, then. Let me know how that works out for you.”

“Thank you,” he says with a chuckle. “Honestly, I can’t say that the thought has never crossed my mind. I think I would either end up murdered or have the best sex of my life, there’s really no in-between with that woman– Nevermind.” 

Astarion drops the subject with a shake of his head. He presses his fingers together and closes his eyes for a second, as if praying for patience. Finally, he opens his eyes and continues, gesturing animatedly between them: 

“Let me put this as plainly as I can. I like you. I have reasons to believe you like me. Come tomorrow, we might be dead or sprouting tentacles. Might as well… indulge a little, while we can.”

Eve stares at him for a second, not fully believing that this is happening.

“And you chose to tell me all of this over a dead hyena while we’re both covered in its blood?”

Astarion looks down at the corpse by their feet and clicks his tongue disapprovingly.

“Well, yes, perhaps the scenery is… subpar. But I think you underestimate how enticing you look when you kick and punch your way through a horde of gnolls twice your size. Plus, red is your color,” he adds with a smirk.

“You’re ridiculous,” she laughs.

“Perhaps I am. But I also have impeccable taste, so don’t question it.”

To be honest, Eve gets it. She can’t deny the fact that witnessing him in battle also does something to her—how he blends into the shadows and takes down enemy after enemy with arrows that seemingly come from nowhere. How he flips his dagger before striking, in a way that clearly offers no practical benefit but rather, an opportunity to show off his dexterity. Her appreciation for his stealth and finesse is entirely benign of course, just like one’s appreciation for fine art or craftsmanship, and it is definitely not distracting, and it certainly does not leave her wondering what else he can do with those–

“Now,” Astarion continues, mercifully snapping Eve out of her thoughts that have only served to deepen the pink shade of her cheeks, “if you have any doubts about my prowess, I assure you, you needn’t worry. I will make it worth your time. Satisfaction guaranteed, as they say.”

Eve scoffs, attempting to play it cool, a task which is somewhat complicated by her now obvious blushing. 

“You seem very confident in your abilities. I can’t say I’m not curious.”

“Oh, the confidence is warranted, trust me. You’ve… trusted me before, haven’t you? Have I given you a reason to regret it?"

Eve smiles weakly as she thinks back to the night he first asked to feed on her.

Could you trust me… a little further?

Her mind remains blissfully silent and she can actually, properly think about this. She knows Astarion is right—they could be dead tomorrow. And she can’t lie to herself that she hasn’t felt strangely drawn to him, wondering what it might feel like to–

The words spill from her lips before she can think of a reason to say no.

“I trust you. Come find me tonight.”

“Excellent,” he drawls, the edge of his lips curled up.

“And just so you know, you have set the expectations unreasonably high,” she laughs.

“Good. I don’t think your standards will ever be the same again. I’m afraid you will find any future lover an utter disappointment.”

“We’ll see about that.”

“OI!” Karlach’s voice echoes off the rocky ravine and they both turn to see her and Wyll waving at them from a distance. “Stop flirting and get over here! We have a shit show on our hands.”

“Ugh. Let’s hope it’s not another poor wretch that needs saving,” Astarion groans as they collect their belongings and start to head over.

But his hopes are shattered the moment they catch up to the rest of the group and notice a building in the distance, a thick column of smoke rising from its red tile roof.

“Come on, let’s get cracking!” Karlach orders as she starts heading in the direction of whatever misfortune has befallen the area.

“And this is our problem how, exactly?” Astarion scoffs, dragging behind.

“Astarion, if you are so allergic to altruism, perhaps you would rather go back to camp and help Gale with dinner?” Wyll asks sweetly.

Astarion just rolls his eyes in lieu of a response.

“Fire means dead bodies,” Eve says, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Dead bodies mean loot. Does that help?”

At the mention of loot, Astarion’s ears perk up and he dons his signature smirk.

“Now, there’s an idea. I do love the way your mind works.”

“That makes one of us,” Eve mutters under her breath as she turns to follow Karlach.

The next hour passes in a blur of smoke and revelations. The woman they rescue from the burning inn seems to be someone important and she knows Wyll and his father, who was apparently captured by the drow and goblins who wreaked havoc in this place.

Ulder Ravengard. The name should mean something to Eve, as it does to the others. But instead, her mind is blank and she is once again reminded of how little she remembers of this world.

What matters is you know which arteries to slice. Nobility or not, they all bleed the same.

As Karlach and Astarion flood Wyll with questions about his upbringing, Eve detaches herself from the group and crouches beside one of the dead drow aggressors. She retrieves the skull-adorned amulet from her pack in hopes that she might get some information out of the corpse about the Duke’s whereabouts. Ready to cast the spell, she assesses the drow’s face, frozen in a final expression of horror, his long white hair stained with crimson–

Before she can utter the incantation, she is hit with a vision of Astarion’s face instead of the drow’s, his silvery locks covered in blood. Blood that she spilled. His eyes are two open wounds, his chest and stomach massacred in a repulsive recreation of what she did to Alfira. 

Eve doesn’t register her mouth stretching into a wide grin as a wretched thought sprouts from the wasteland of her mind:

You can make it happen. He would be the prettiest corpse you’ve ever had.

She straightens up suddenly, the gory vision slipping away, leaving behind naught but the drow’s cold body. Her chest tightens as the words echo in her mind, petrifying, nauseating. What in the Hells does that me– 

Eve shakes her head. Given the few glimpses she’s caught of her past, she figures that some questions are better left unanswered.

But the voice is incessant as it whispers:

Trust your instincts. It’s time to stop giving him your precious blood and spill his instead.

Shards of ice splinter in her stomach, her vision blurry as she turns the words in her mind over and over and—

Eve jumps when she feels a hand on her shoulder.

“Apologies,” Wyll says, a hint of concern in his eyes when she turns to face him. “I didn’t mean to scare you. We should start heading back now if we want to make it to camp before dusk falls... Are you alright?” 

“Yes,” she replies a touch too hastily to sound genuine. She grabs her pack off the ground and swings it over one arm, nodding decidedly. “Let’s go.”

Eve turns and starts heading for the gate, every lively step helping to ease the tightness in her chest, if only slightly.

She doesn’t get far before Astarion catches up to her.

“My, my, why the rush?” he drawls, walking beside her. “You seem awfully eager to return to camp. Do you have any plans for the evening you’d hate to miss?”

Gods damn it, not now.

“I’m not feeling well,” she blurts out, picking up the pace.

Astarion makes a curious noise but doesn’t press the matter. 

After a few minutes of walking in silence, Karlach gets bored and starts questioning Astarion about the logistics of the “invitation only” rule for vampires entering private property, presenting him with increasingly specific hypotheticals.

“Say if I’m renting—would you need an invitation from me or my landlord?” 

Much to Eve’s relief, this line of questioning keeps Astarion occupied and away from her. Not to mention that it offers a much needed distraction from the mess of her mind.

“If you wanted to go into a stable, would you need to talk to the horse or the horse’s owner? It’s the horse’s house after all, isn’t it?”

When they finally make it to camp, they convene for dinner as Wyll catches the rest of the group up on all of today’s revelations. As they’re finishing up, Eve makes some poorly-veiled excuse and heads to her tent much earlier than usual.

Once inside, she buries her face in her hands and closes her eyes for just a moment–

The second she does that, the bloody visions flash before her, ever so vivid, and she groans in frustration as she opens her eyes. 

She fetches the first book she can find and tries to occupy herself with it, but the words on the page melt into an incomprehensible mass of ink. It might as well be written in Celestial, for all she knows.

Eventually she tosses the tome aside and stares at the ceiling, failing to calm her racing heart.

She listens as the conversations outside slowly die down.

In the sole company of darkness and her fractured mind, Eve decides she can’t trust herself enough to go through with it. Being alone with Astarion away from everyone… It’s simply too risky.

If he comes to her first, she might not have the volition to decline him. She needs to tell him now, lest she gets any second thoughts with potentially lethal consequences.

It can’t happen. 

Not for her.

With a heavy heart, she gets up and tries to remind herself that this is the right thing to do, all while wishing that she didn’t have to worry about what is right, but rather just what feels right.

As soon as she exits the tent, she bumps right into Astarion and loses her balance. 

His hands immediately grasp at her waist to steady her, and she prays he did not notice how her heart skipped a beat at the contact. Though who is she kidding? He has supernatural senses and her chest is pressed up right against his. Gods, he really is so close, close enough for the sunny hints of bergamot to hit her nostrils, close enough to see the laugh lines around his lips and eyes despite the dim light–

“Not wasting any time, are we?” Astarion asks, his mouth curling up. 

Focus.

Against every nerve in her body, Eve takes a step back, her skin already mourning the loss of his touch. She clears her throat, suddenly unsure of what to do with her hands.

“Hi,” she blurts out.

“Hello, darling,” Astarion says, clearly amused by her nervousness.

“How are you doing?”

“Is this your idea of foreplay?” he chuckles. “Trust me, there are more exciting ways to spend our time than exchanging pleasantries. On that note: I’ve found a lovely little spot out in the woods—perfect for two people who would like to… indulge in one another.”

There it is again: that sultry tone that makes her feel like he is undressing her with his voice alone. She wants nothing more than to take his hand and follow him, but instead she shifts uneasily, remembering her decision.

“Right, umm… about that. I… I don’t think we should do that, actually.”

Astarion suddenly drops all pretense, sounding genuinely dumbfounded when he says:

“Excuse me?!” He shakes his head and manages to compose himself slightly. “Well, this is a first. Are you feeling okay?” He presses his cool palm against her forehead as if checking for a fever. “Is this early ceremorphosis or have you finally lost your mind?” 

“I’m fine,” she says, swatting his hand away. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea, given…” 

But the words catch in her throat when she realizes she isn’t ready to explain it all to him yet. Astarion looks at her inquisitively, and Eve sighs, before finally deciding:

“Look, it’s not because of anything you did. I meant what I said earlier today, I just– Can you please not take it personally?”

Astarion seems to have regained his footing because he leans in and says in that familiar, low tone:

“Listen, you don’t have to explain yourself. It’s your loss after all. Just so you know, you will come crawling back and I will greatly enjoy watching you when you do.”

Eve lets out a frustrated groan and says:

“Fine. Just. Are we…” She clears her throat and continues in a softer voice: “Are we okay?” 

Astarion’s eyes widen and he gestures vaguely around them.

“Darling, we sleep on the ground and have mindflayer parasites in our heads. ‘Okay’ is probably the last word I would use to describe our circumstances.”

“Yes, thank you for the recap. I meant: are things okay between the two of us?” 

Astarion scoffs and Eve tenses at the sound, bemoaning the turn the evening has taken. 

“Why? Are you worried that I will resent you for not wanting to sleep with me? Is that the kind of person you take me to be?”

“No, I just–” She stutters, wishing she could just tell him the truth, but the words don’t come. “I don’t know.”

“Let me know once you do.”

And then it looks like he might say more, but instead, Astarion shakes his head and bids her goodnight before heading for his tent.

“Wait,” Eve blurts out and it makes him stop in his tracks, turning half-way to look at her. “You can still drink my blood if you would like. This doesn’t change anything.”

Astarion seems to consider this for a moment, his expression indecipherable in the dim firelight. His tone is detached when he finally responds:

“That’s sweet. But I’m not really hungry.”

“We both know that’s not true,” she insists.

Astarion chuckles dryly before continuing the walk towards his tent.

“That we do. Goodnight, dear.”

Eve slumps as she stares at the fabric of the tent falling shut behind him, before the familiar, wicked voice snaps her out of it:

Missed opportunity. But there will be other ones.

The visions of Astarion’s mangled body come back to haunt her and Eve knows she won’t be able to fall asleep any time soon, so she heads to retrieve some logs to keep the campfire going. 

The voice eventually quiets down, but as Eve keeps watch, she tries and fails to push away thoughts of a much different nature—of the arms that would have held her, of how soft his hair would have felt under her touch. 

But her broken mind seems to have a different definition of carnal pleasures, and Eve resigns herself to a solitary night of wondering what could have been, had there not been something deeply, fundamentally wrong with her. 

Over the next couple of days, Eve’s mind had blissfully quieted down and she began to wonder, rather selfishly, whether what she denied herself might actually be possible. It was foolish, she knew, but be that as it may, there was not much she could do about the pull she was feeling towards Astarion, about the way her heartbeat quickened in his presence.

As she predicted, Astarion was unable to not take it personally and he suddenly seemed very cautious, as if he didn’t really know how to act around her. It’s like he couldn’t quite comprehend how she could be both attracted to him and choosing not to sleep with him, the elements of the puzzle not adding up to a cohesive whole.

Eve tried her best to act normal, or as normal as someone of her proclivities could reasonably be. She strove to show him that she still valued his company, that she meant it when she said her decision was not about anything he had done.

They were just two people who were both acutely aware of their mutual attraction and determined not to do anything about it. That seemed like the responsible thing to do. And definitely sustainable in the long run. Right?

And so they engaged in this awkward dance around each other, neither of them willing to bring up the obviously touchy subject. At some point, Eve had begun to lose hope that things would ever be the way they had been before.

Until one night when Astarion came to her with another proposition, albeit much more innocuous.

The camp is quiet save the distant chirp of crickets and the crackling of the fire. Everyone has retired to their tents, readying themselves for another day of chaos—everyone except for Eve, who, for the last two hours, has been fighting an unfair battle against her own hair, and she is done. She spent the better part of that time picking out pieces of goblin brain from it, and now, when it is washed and finally dry, she can still smell that heavy, metallic scent of blood. She snaps a twig off a nearby bush and is trying to get it to hold her hair up in a bun, when she hears a familiar voice.

“So this is what you do when you volunteer to keep watch? I feel safer already.”

“What?” She turns towards Astarion, hands in her hair, trying desperately to pin it in place. “Oh, it’s you.”

“Try to contain your excitement.”

“Sorry, I’m just–” she stops, pretty sure she finally got it right, but then her hair falls over her shoulders again. “Gods damn it!” She yanks the twig out and tosses it into the underbrush.

“This is quite painful to watch,”  he says, crossing his arms over his chest. “Would you please let me help you?”

“What exactly do you mean by helping me?”

“Well, what exactly are you trying to achieve?”

“I just want my damn hair to not stick to my face all the time and not smell like goblin insides,” she huffs.

“Get up.”

“What?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Would you please do me the honor of getting up?” he rephrases, his tone theatrically proper. He walks up and reaches his hand out to her, bowing.

Eve rolls her eyes, attempting to draw attention away from the flush in her cheeks as his cold hand closes around hers. Astarion helps her up and gestures towards the campfire.

“After you.”

She walks over, unsure of what to think, wondering if this is one of his little games, and trying to decide whether she would mind that. Astarion heads into his tent to grab a small ornamental rug, then places it in front of one of the logs by the campfire. 

“It’s not exactly luxurious, but I suppose this is the best we can do, given the circumstances.”

He sits on the log, looking at her expectantly.

“Well?”

Eve settles on the rug hesitantly, her back towards him. She suddenly becomes very aware of his legs on either side of her body and she finds this position oddly vulnerable, dreading the possibility of any of their companions getting out of their tents and seeing the two of them like this.

“I don’t see any goblin brains left. You did quite well on that front.” 

“Why, thank you.” 

Astarion gives her hair a hesitant stroke, then halts.

“Is this alright?” he asks and it catches her off-guard.

“Yes?”

“I would rather make sure,” he says, his tone surprisingly earnest. 

Why is this man, sometimes outright insufferable in his flirtatiousness, who manages to turn nearly everything into an innuendo, suddenly so careful about touching her? Eve considers asking him, but then bites her tongue and chalks it up to the recent shift in the energy between them.

Astarion clears his throat, sounding almost embarrassed, and continues to comb through her hair with his fingers, his movements gentle, almost caring. Eve fails to remember the last time anyone touched her like this.

“Hm.”

“What?” 

“So much wasted potential,” he sighs.

“Excuse me?” she asks, turning to face him.

“See, the color is fabulous and your hair has a nice thickness to it, but you choose to leave it at the mercy of the elements and then you’re surprised when it collects all sorts of grime. And it always seems to get in your face when you fight. It’s neither practical nor beautiful, but it could easily be both if you just showed it enough care.”

Eve can’t tell if she’s supposed to feel offended or flattered. She waits for the snide punchline, but it does not come. She shifts uneasily in her seat, trying not to think too much about Astarion staring at her hair mid-combat.

“Alright, so what do you suggest?”

“Well, I’ve always been partial to a braid or two. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. You said it smelled of goblin brain?”

“I did.”

She hears Astarion shift in his seat and inhale deeply.

“Did you just sniff me?” she asks, her cheeks burning hot.

“Yes.”

“Um, okay. And?”

“It’s not that bad.”

She can’t help but laugh.

“Thanks.”

“Don’t get me wrong, it’s not great, but I have something that might help. Hold on.”

He gets up and heads into his tent. Eve’s gaze follows him there, eyes gliding over his form, and she smiles softly when she sees the points of his ears peeking out from the carefully orchestrated disarray of silver curls. Once he emerges from the tent, he meets her eyes and smirks. Her stomach flutters and she turns away, suddenly very focused on the fire.

Astarion returns to his seat behind her and places something on the ground. Eve turns to see a small, unmarked bottle and an ivory comb with intricate floral carvings on the handle. She picks up the comb, cool to the touch, and holds it up to the fire to admire the design.

“Where did you get this?”

“I snatched it from Kagha’s room.”

Eve turns towards him, wide-eyed.

“You did what? When?”

“Well, we’ve only been there once, haven’t we? So it must have been more or less when she was threatening that tiefling girl with a viper… Oh, don’t look at me like that! I knew you were going to handle it, I didn’t feel the need to get involved. So, I was just looking around and, while everyone was distracted with a child in mortal peril, I helped myself to this pretty little thing.”

“You’re unbelievable,” she says, shaking her head and turning back towards the fire.

“Yes, thank you.”

“Like a magpie, you just see a shiny thing and you can’t help yourself.”

“Again, thank you. I like to surround myself with beauty. It makes sleeping on the ground just a tad more bearable.”

“And what’s in the bottle?”

“A little concoction I crafted to hide my… condition. A mixture of bergamot, rosemary, and a hint of aged brandy. The perfect olfactory disguise for a corpse. It can certainly help with the smell of goblin viscera, plus rosemary oil can do wonders to your hair. But enough talking.” He reaches for the comb. “Shall we?”

"Go ahead.”

He catches her hair mid-length and starts working on the ends with the comb. Despite the many knots she knows must be there, it seems that he tries his best not to snag at her hair, to cause her the least discomfort possible. Once he is done with the ends, he runs the comb through the whole length, massaging her scalp. They don’t speak and she focuses on the sensation, eyes fixed on the fire.  

Eventually, Astarion puts the comb away and reaches for the bottle. As the cork pops off, the familiar scent fills her nostrils. It is unmistakably his, the scent she first smelled that day after the nautiloid crash, when he put a dagger to her throat. He dabs a tiny bit onto his fingers and works it into her scalp, and she can’t help but think about the implications of her hair smelling like him. Would the other companions notice? Would Shadowheart smell it as she tended to Eve’s wounds after a battle? What would she make of it? She doubts anyone would be surprised, seeing as Astarion was so blatant in his efforts of seduction, so unabashedly convinced she would say yes. Admittedly, there is not much to gossip about at camp and she is almost certain people have already assumed that the two of them had slept together.

She decides that’s a problem for another time and she focuses on the feeling of his fingers against her scalp, gentle yet focused. She relishes the unfamiliar sensation of being cared for, pampered even, and she does not notice the moment her eyelids flutter shut, her head falling to the side to rest against his thigh.

“Are you about to start purring?”

Eve’s eyes snap open and she sits up, moving away from him hastily as if his touch burned.

“Sorry, I–”

“No need to apologize, dear, I tend to have that effect on people. Just try not to think about all the bliss these fingers could bring you.”

That familiar silky tone makes Eve’s stomach tighten, heat rising to her cheeks, and for a moment she considers letting her guard down, a flirty response forming at the tip of her tongue. But then she remembers why she said no to Astarion’s advances in the first place. 

Why this can never happen.

She contemplates getting up and leaving, cutting this short, but her legs don’t seem to follow as she remains seated in front of him. Though the pragmatic side of her is determined to decline him, the reckless, selfish part just wants to enjoy this. And truth be told, her pragmatic side rarely won these disputes.

This is harmless, she tells herself and almost believes it.

She scoffs, rolling her shoulders back, and Astarion takes it as an invitation to resume his work.

“You are aware that if you tell someone not to think about something, you make them think about it, right? Just so we’re clear.”

“Oh really?” he gasps, voice dripping with self-contentment. “How inconvenient for you then. I’m sorry dear, I had no idea”

“Of course you didn’t,” she says with a smile. “Your confidence is quite enviable, you know.”

“How so?” he asks, amused, as he reaches for the comb. 

“It seems you’re under the impression that anyone in their right mind would want to sleep with you the first chance they get.”

Astarion chuckles as he parts her hair down the middle and begins to braid one side.

“It’s not an impression, darling, it’s the truth. With centuries of experience to back it up.” 

His tone is light, but there is a tinge of bitterness to his words and Eve realizes that he’s not bragging—he’s admitting something he’d rather not be true.

“I see. Well, we have talked about this.”

“Oh, I know, and I respect your decision, however baffling it is. But that doesn’t mean I can’t… entertain the idea from time to time, hm?”

“Right.” She nods, warmth spreading down her chest to her stomach. “So, do you entertain that idea often?”

“A gentleman never tells,” he responds as he finishes the braid and ties it off, the ends brushing softly against Eve’s shoulders. He moves to the other side, gently tugging on her hair.

“It’s quite bold of you to call yourself a gentleman. Bold, or just delusional.”

“You hurt me, dear,” he gasps. “What did I ever do that made you think of me otherwise?”

“The list is quite long.”

“We have time.”

“For one, you snuck up on me in the middle of the night to bite me.”

“Touché. Not my proudest moment.”

“Not sure why you thought having teeth in my neck wouldn’t wake me up. But alright. Let’s see… you also ambushed me and threatened me with a dagger.”

“I did apologize for that one.” 

“Oh, and you also insisted on opening the door to that godsdamned barn and now that image will forever be burned into my memory.”

“Don’t pretend that wasn’t funny, though.”

“Yes, all of these encounters were quite exhilarating. It’s impossible to be bored when you’re around, I’ll give you that.”

“The feeling is mutual,” he responds, and suddenly Eve is not sure if it is an innocuous comment or a more earnest admission. His words settle heavily in the pit of her stomach, but before she can overthink them, Astarion ties off the braid and declares:

“I think we’re done.” 

Eve reaches up, her fingers tracing the weave of the braid, trying to decipher its shape. It feels taut, but not uncomfortably so.

“Look at me,” he says and she turns to face him. He assesses the hairstyle, cocking his head. “Come.” 

Eve follows him towards the outside of his tent, where an ornate mirror rests on top of a small table. He guides her to stand with her back towards it, then hands her a small mirror, the same one she saw him stare into just a few nights ago. An odd thought occurs to her and she voices it before catching herself:

“Why do you have so many mirrors lying about?” 

It’s an obvious question, but one she doubts has a simple answer. Eve assumes the others might see it as Astarion trying to uphold a certain image of himself, one of confidence and vanity, even if the mirrors are just useless props to him. But she knows it must mean more. 

There was an undeniable sense of longing to him that night when she saw him looking into the mirror, when he confessed to her that he did not recall what his face looked like before it grew fangs and his eyes turned red. He asked her to be his mirror then and it was one of the first times she felt she was actually seeing the real him. 

While she has never cared much about her reflection, she cannot imagine being unable to see it. As indifferent as she was about the face staring back at her, she did appreciate being able to confirm that she was still herself, that despite all of the chaos in her mind, there was a sense of physical continuity that grounded her. She reckons that not being able to do this would be hard for just about anyone, but perhaps especially for a man of Astarion’s background.

She has heard stories about high elves and their complicated self-care rituals, how they could spend hours tending to their appearance. On multiple evenings now, she has seen Astarion mend the elaborate embroidery on his clothes, something that the others might have deemed as vain and impractical, but that was so obviously important to him, so imperative to him remaining himself throughout all this madness. She wonders if that’s partially why he misses his reflection so much, how he can no longer see the result of all these efforts.

But of course, why would she expect a real answer?

“I like to intimidate my interlocutors,” he says, not skipping a beat, as if he had a practiced response at the ready. “Whoever approaches my tent must first be met with their own reflection, before seeing all this.” He gestures theatrically to his body. “It tends to bring people down a peg.” 

“Sure,” Eve says with a hesitant smile. She has come to accept that the scarce moments of Astarion’s genuineness never come up as requested, always catching her off guard instead. 

“In all honesty though,” he begins, and her stomach dips at the prospect of learning something real about him. “I have changed so much these past few tendays. I can walk in the sun, wade through rivers, enter homes uninvited…” he trails off, gaze fixed on something far beyond her. “I wonder if maybe one of these days, as I walk back to my tent, I might catch my reflection. Who knows what the tadpole has in store for me?” 

He chuckles at the end there, but it is a solemn sort of laugh, one that does not hide whatever longing is raking his undead heart.

Eve thinks about all he has lost. All he has gained. How the parasite, a source of great distress to their companions, has been nothing but liberating for him. They were so hell-bent on finding a cure, but who knows where that would leave him?

“Now, will you please admire my work?” he asks impatiently, tilting the mirror in her hand so she can see the back of her head.

It is neatly parted down the middle, two braids at either side finishing off in short ponytails. She touches it again, not sure if her hair was ever this contained, this deliberate.

“You should see it from the front,” he says, taking the small mirror away and guiding her towards the large one resting on the table.

Her reflection startles her. Eve is not sure when she last saw her face so clearly, not distorted in a river or puddle, all its imperfections clearly visible. She takes a step forward, taking in each and every one of her freckles, the scar running down the side of her face, the faint tattoo of a dagger lining her throat. 

There is something unsettling in her reflection, something bare and shameless. For a brief moment, she sees her lips twist into a grin, and it’s as if the part of her she had longed to keep hidden, the part that relished the feeling of the bard’s warm blood trickling down her arms, is staring straight at her. It lasts a mere moment and she can’t tell if she had imagined it or not.

“I–” she stutters, taking a step back. “My face seems so bare now,” is all she manages to say and it is not a lie as much as it is not the whole truth. “I’m not sure I like it that way.”

“Well, you’re objectively wrong,” he scoffs, and the closeness of his voice startles her. She glances back and sees Astarion standing right behind her, but in the mirror it’s just her reflection staring back. “But, if it makes you feel better, you could always do this.” 

He reaches his hand around her head and gently pulls out a strand of hair from each of the braids. Eve observes the reflection in silence, mesmerized as her hair seems to magically free itself, falling to frame her face. She likes the look of it—neat, but not too proper.

“That should help,” he continues. “But if it bothers you at any point, you could always tuck it behind your ear.”

Astarion hesitates for a moment, but then reaches out to do just that. It’s such a light touch, his fingertips grazing the shell of her ear for a mere second, but it still feels like an electric current sparking down her chest, lighting up every inch of her skin. 

It strikes her then that there is no getting over him. And as much as she tried to ignore her attraction to Astarion, it only seemed to intensify. 

“Like that.” His soft voice brings her back down to the Material Plane.

She turns to face him then, her chest tightening when she finds him standing closer than expected.

“Thank you, I– I appreciate this.”

“You are very welcome,” he says, taking a step back. “I prefer it when my allies can see whom they’re punching. Plus, it will make drinking from you that much easier, not having your hair stick to my face.”

“Sure, sure,” she chuckles. “Gods forbid you do a nice thing just for the sake of being nice.”

“Exactly, that doesn’t sound like me.”

“Well, thank you again.” And then, before she can do something foolish: “Goodnight, Astarion.” 

She turns and starts heading towards her tent.

“Eve–”

Her name sounds so odd coming from his mouth that she can’t tell if he has ever uttered it before, usually opting for some unfoundedly affectionate pet name instead. 

She stops and turns back to face him. Astarion opens his mouth and if Eve didn’t know any better she would swear it looked like he was about to tell her something important. But instead he clears his throat and says:

“Just try not to mess it up. It should hold for about two days if you don’t do anything too extreme. Goodnight.”

Astarion turns around and goes into his tent. Eve’s eyes follow his movement and a hint of disappointment sinks into her chest when he doesn’t turn to look at her again.

Two nights later, as Eve is distilling some potions of speed, Astarion approaches her, comb in hand.

“Darling, the state of your hair leaves a lot to be desired.”

She rolls her eyes and goes to sit in the same spot as last time, waiting for him to follow.

“You know, I could do this myself if you showed me how,” she says once he’s settled behind her. Not because she would actually prefer to do it herself, but because she is curious about his response. “I’m sure you have better things to do with your time.”

“Ha! Fishing for compliments, are we now?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Eve replies, shifting uneasily in her seat. She’s not sure what response she was expecting, but certainly not this. 

“Oh, please. You’re waiting for me to tell you how much I enjoy your company, how I look forward to this brief shared moment with you, how the rush of ecstasy when my dagger stops a beating heart is nothing compared to the feel of your hair slipping through my fingers?” There it is: his theatrical cadence that she knows all too well. She bids farewell to the hope of any genuine revelation from him.

“That’s not what I–”

“I thought I made it abundantly clear that I am fond of your company. If you’re concerned that this is part of some ploy to bed you, rest assured that I can tell where I’m not wanted. Now, do you have any more asinine comments to make, or can I get to work?”

Eve tenses at his words. It’s not that he is not wanted. She considers telling him the truth about that night, revealing more than she ever has, but she decides it might not be the best moment. Instead, she just replies: 

“No, that’s all.” 

“Wonderful,” he replies, as his fingers start guiding the comb.

It becomes an odd sort of routine, but not an unwelcome one.

The tieflings sure know how to party. Whether it’s their general disposition or just the elation that comes with escaping the inescapable. The sheer joy of surviving another day when all the cards were dealt against you.

Either way, there is not a sober soul in sight. Eve is caught in a whirlwind of hugs, toasts, and dancing, and she is high on this victory, high on people calling her a hero—it’s not a word she would ever use for herself, but she doesn’t mind playing the part, indulging in the fantasy for one night.

Her mind is currently free of the insidious voice, and it feels like she finally proved it wrong. She can be good. She has a choice.

The alcohol is flowing, the music is captivating, and everyone’s inhibitions are lowering by the minute. Even Lae’zel, who initially ignored everyone and proceeded to sharpen her sword (be it out of duty or an attempt to drown out the music with the piercing sound of her grindstone,) was eventually convinced to join the festivities. A couple drinks in, she managed to drag Wyll onto the dancefloor despite his earlier sullen demeanor, and later challenged Halsin to an arm-wrestling match, which gathered quite the audience despite the current stalemate.

The only person who’s missing the frey is Astarion, who watches everyone from a distance, drinking wine by himself in front of his tent. Eve keeps feeling his eyes on her as she meanders through the crowd, realizing she doesn’t exactly mind it.

Quite the opposite, actually.

She is sitting at a makeshift table with Karlach, who pours them another round of beers and looks out onto the colorful crowd with a wide smile on her face.

“We did one Hell of a good job, mate.”

She goes to pat Eve on the back but stops midway, groaning in frustration as she takes her hand away.

“Fuck, sorry. I forget sometimes.” She runs her fingers through her hair and says: “Ahh, we are celebrating, I should be able to hug you all, I should be able to…”

“I’m sorry, Karlach,” Eve says, unsure of how to comfort her.

She takes another sip and watches as Karlach stares off into the middle distance, as if contemplating something. Eventually she turns to Eve and says:

“Do you think Gale could teach me how to cast Mage Hand before the night is over? You know, to help a girl out.”

Eve spits her drink out as she laughs, Karlach joining in.

“What? I’m serious!”

Eve clears her throat and wipes the beer off her chin.

“Oh I know you are and I totally get it. You should definitely ask him, even if just to see his reaction.”

“Oh my gods, I bet he would be so cute about it!” She straightens in her seat and dons a serious expression, lowering her voice to impersonate the wizard: “Why Karlach, I thought you’d never ask! May I inquire why the sudden interest in handling the Weave?” In her regular voice, she adds: “He would turn red in an instant, the poor bloke.” She sighs before taking another sip. “Well, at least one of us is getting some action tonight. Good for you, soldier.”

Eve stares at her blankly for a moment.

“What are you talking about?”

Karlach mirrors her gaze, looking genuinely dumbfounded by the question.

“That brooding prick over there!” she exclaims way too loudly as she points towards Astarion’s tent. “Who else? You two are not exactly subtle about it!”

Eve locks eyes with Astarion across camp and a flush blooms on her face the moment his lips turn up into that stupid, smug smirk.

“Gods damn it, stop yelling!” she pleads, shifting in her seat so she doesn’t have to look at him. In a hushed tone she adds: “We’re not sleeping together.”

“But–” Karlach’s eyes widen as she points to Eve’s neck. “But your neck is always bruised. You’re telling me he drinks your blood every night–”

“It’s not every night…”

“Eve, be for fucking real. It’s most nights.”

“Yeah, okay.” Eve shrugs, resigned. “It’s most nights.”

“And I’m supposed to believe nothing ever happens? I thought that was the whole point of the biting, that it was some weird fetish thing–”

“It’s not some weird fetish thing,” Eve insists, feeling her face grow even hotter. “It’s literally just food for him. There’s nothing sexual about it.”

But Karlach just throws her head back in laughter.

“Sounds like you’re in denial, babe. He is biting your neck, not your bloody elbow! That’s erotic as fuck.”

“Oh gods,” Eve sighs as she buries her face in her hands.

“So do you do it sitting up or lying down or what?”

“Well, the first time he sort of awkwardly hovered over me,” Eve says, gesturing vaguely. “But now usually I sit up and he sits behind me.”

“Oh, so he’s all up in there.”

“All up in where?!”

“Your space. You’re, like, pressed against each other and he’s biting your neck. And you’re telling me that’s not sexy? Snap out of it, mate.”

Eve takes a significant gulp of her drink so she doesn’t have to respond. But Karlach is relentless when she asks:

“So, what does it feel like?”

“Huh?”

“The bite. What does it feel like?”

“Well, it’s this sharp sting at first and then it’s sort of numb and… cool and…” She waves her hand, struggling to find the right words. “Almost pleasant.”

“Almost pleasant. Mhm.” Karlach pauses for a moment, then adds: “Does it get you all hot and bothered?”

Eve’s face gets even hotter, though she’s not sure how that’s possible.

“Wha– I–” she stutters and curses herself for it.

“HA! It does, it totally fucking does. I told ya.”

“Gods, fine. Yes, it does feel good, but I don’t do it to feel good, I do it to–”

“Yeah I know, you do it to help him out. I’m not doubting that, I’m really not! But it’s not wrong to enjoy it while you’re at it. What are you, Ilmater? You’re allowed to have some fun, for fuck’s sake.”

Eve stares at her for a moment, considering her words. 

“What? Oh, come on! If not for this infernal piece of junk,” she says, fist pounding at her chest, “I would happily ride that man to the Feywild and back. He’s fine as all Hells. And you’re obviously into each other—who are you kidding?”

“Fine, yes, he is really hot.” Tongue loosened with ale, she just keeps going: “And funny. And smart. And thoughtful when he wants to be.”

“Oh.” Karlach’s eyes widen as she puts her hands up, and Eve realizes she said too much. “Oh girl. So you like him.”

“Well, yeah, I like all of you…” Eve says, unconvincingly.

“No, I mean you like like him.”

“Whatever.” She waves her hand dismissively. “I think you’re reading into it too much.”

“And I think you should stop being so godsdamn stubborn and just go talk to him. Come on, live a little! I’m not saying you have to marry the guy but at least see what that mouth can do, other than whine all the time.”

A loud cheer erupts from the crowd gathered around Lae’zel and Halsin, though from her position, Eve can’t see who is winning.

“Look,” Karlach continues. “All teasing aside, I know you’re not this clueless. I know you know you like him, and we don’t have to talk about it anymore, but I just thought… Well, this might be all new to you, what with your memory stuff and all that, but trust me, there is nothing bad or shameful about feeling this way. It’s perfectly normal! Liking someone is so much fun actually, just allow yourself to feel it!”

A weak voice from the back of Eve’s mind chimes in—not the blood-dripping one, but rather, the closest thing she has to a conscience.

Not shameful, no—just wrong. Selfish and dangerous to let anyone get too close to you when you’re–

But it gets drowned out by the pleasant buzz of alcohol, by the music and merriment around her, by the weight of Astarion’s gaze still piercing holes into her skin.

Maybe it doesn’t have to be this complicated?

“You’re right, I’ll talk to him. Can you just top me off first?” Eve asks, nodding to the wooden keg behind Karlach.

“Nah, mate. I think you might wanna start sobering up for this.”

Eve groans and stands up, leaving the mug on the table.

“I guess. Thanks for the pep talk.”

“Hey, you can always talk to Mama K. Now quit stalling!”

Eve leaves hesitantly and tries to make conversation with some tieflings on the way, but eventually she gives up the charade and just heads straight to Astarion.

With every step she takes, she feels the weight of his gaze, its intensity akin to that of a predator stalking its prey. But that doesn’t seem quite right, does it? Not when it is she who comes to him so willingly, against her better instincts. 

Seeking relief from his piercing eyes, she looks down at the ruffles around his collar, at the deep cut of his neckline, never tied correctly, revealing way too much of his pale chest and she wonders how cold it would feel against her heated skin if they–

“My eyes are up here,” Astarion says, not without amusement, and the proximity of his voice snaps Eve out of her thoughts.

She shuffles awkwardly, taking half a step back once she realizes how close she’s standing.

“The lacing on your shirt is all messed up.” She points to his neckline, trying to distract from her not-so-subtle gawking. But Astarion doesn’t take the bait, eyes not leaving hers for a second when he asks:

“And that bothers you because…?”

“It doesn’t. It just seems like something that would bother you, but you might not be aware of it since…” She bites her tongue, the unspoken words hanging between them.

Since you can’t see your reflection.

“Here, let me,” she rushes to fill the silence and to her own surprise, steps up to reach for the leather laces. 

Astarion flinches ever so noticeably the moment her fingers brush against his skin as she pulls the string out of the eyelets. But then he rolls his shoulders back, a familiar smirk blooming on his lips when he says:

“Any excuse to get your hands on me, I see.”

“Glad I could inflate your ego. You don’t do it nearly enough yourself.”

Eve takes her time as she threads the laces anew, making sure it’s all symmetrical, as Astarion watches her every move in silence. Her heart is pounding, his scent filling her nostrils, that godsdamned scent that has become hers, too, ever since he showed her how to care for her hair and gave her a spare bottle of the scented oils he always carried. The combination is alluring but strangely comforting, one she would not mind waking up to every–

Oh girl. So you like him. 

“There, that’s better,” she says, taking a step back, and she is both relieved and disappointed by the distance that creates between them. Desperate to change the subject, she asks: “So, why are you sulking over here in the corner instead of joining the party? Is it not up to your standards, Magistrate Astarion?”

Astarion scoffs, but there is no real edge to it.

“It’s Magistrate Ancunín, actually. Or, was.”

“Ancunín,” Eve repeats, enjoying how the word rolls off her tongue. “All this time traveling together and I finally learn your last name. Maybe in three months I’ll know your favorite color.”

Astarion chuckles in a way he rarely does—every time Eve takes it as a small victory.

“Don’t get greedy.”

“So, can I convince you to join the party?” she asks, hoping he will say no. She’d much rather stay right here.

“I suppose it’s not much of a party, is it? Just a couple of hellspawn drunkenly twirling about, and all they have to serve is this vinegar.” 

He raises the bottle in his hand with a scowl, and without much thinking, Eve grabs it from him.

“Excuse you–” he drawls with feigned offense, but makes no effort to stop her.

They lock eyes as Eve brings the bottle up to her lips and takes a sip. She lets her eyelids flutter shut, enjoying how the rich vintage blossoms on her tongue.

“The wine is fine,” she declares, placing the bottle on the small table that houses all of Astarion’s mirrors. “I think you just like to complain.”

“Well, I think no one here knows how to have fun.”

“And you do? It doesn’t look like it.”

“Fun can take on many forms, darling. This,” he says, gesturing to the drunken crowd behind her, “is just not my… personal preference.”

“And what is?” she asks, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible—an increasingly difficult endeavor.

“Well, sex, for one. A night of passion. Alas, the only person I would deem suitable for the task has already indicated her lack of interest. And now she has decided to come over here and taunt me.”

An opening. A snap decision, before she can overthink it.

“You never know—people change their minds.”

Astarion’s eyes glint curiously in the low light as he leans closer.

“Interesting. Have you? Changed your mind, that is.”

“I might…” Words spill out of her before she thinks them through: “If you say please.”

Bleeding Hells, I did not just say that outloud.

Astarion’s eyes widen with a delightful mixture of shock and amusement.

“What?” he drawls, voice hushed.

Well, there is no backing out now, is there?

“You heard me,” she says, crossing her arms for emphasis.

“I should say please?” He puts his hand to his still heart. “You’re the one crawling back just like I predicted.”

“Fine.” Eve shrugs, her lips turning up in what she hopes to be an easygoing smile.

Against every nerve in her body, she turns on her heel and starts to walk away. It only takes two steps before she hears Astarion’s voice from behind her:

“Please.”

Heat rushes to her cheeks, but then she takes a deep breath and tries to remain calm when she turns and looks him up and down.

“Good boy. I’ll see you later.”

Astarion laughs, a rare genuineness to it.

“Cheeky,” he says, the word near-sinful coming from his lips. “There is a clearing in the woods just five minutes north from here. Come find me there once the party dies down.”

“I might,” Eve says, but her attempt at nonchalance is instantly foiled by Astarion’s insistence:

“You will.”

“Fine, I will,” she blurts out. “BYE NOW.”

Astarion chuckles and says:

“See you later… lover.”

Eve walks away hastily, a part of her wanting to giggle with glee, the other horrified by the consequences of her actions. To keep herself from overthinking the whole affair, she heads to the sizeable crowd and pushes through to the front row of the arm-wrestling match that is still in full swing. 

In the low light, Eve can see the faintest glint of sweat on Halsin’s forehead, while Lae’zel, half his size, seems thoroughly unbothered, her eyes narrowed in determination. Eve follows the firm lines of their flexing muscles up to their clenched fists that remain firmly above the center of the table.

“They’ve been like this for the past half hour,” Guex whispers to her, his eyes wide with awe.

“Perhaps it would be wise to acknowledge both of our strengths and proclaim this a draw,” Halsin suggests in his usual calm tone, though Eve senses it is taking him considerable effort to keep his voice steady.

“I didn’t take you for a coward, druid,” Lae’zel says through gritted teeth. “I don’t do draws,” she spits the last word out as if it were the most heinous insult. “I win. Or I die.”

“Well, that seems awfully dramatic,” Halsin says, a hint of a smile on his face that is otherwise tense with effort. “But I respect it.”

Eventually Halsin’s grip falters for a split second and Lae’zel doesn’t hesitate. Their fists slam against the table as the crowd erupts with applause. 

“You bested me, Lae’zel of Crèche K’liir,” Halsin admits solemnly as he bows before the woman in question. Through the curtain of brown hair that falls around his face, Eve sees a flash of a smirk and suspects that Halsin just wanted to be done.

The crowd disperses, and Eve gets dragged out onto the dancefloor by Zevlor of all people, who looks relaxed for the first time since they’ve met him. To a collective delight, Gale and Rolan join forces and paint the sky with sparkling cascades of dancing lights. 

In that moment, jumping to the music, magic glimmering above her, Eve senses this overwhelming gut feeling that everything might turn out alright. 

In the crowd of people she helped, she doesn’t feel like an outlier, but rather, a part of something greater than herself. All this time she’d been worried about letting people get close to her, but maybe it is precisely because she has grown closer to them all that she has been able to fight her instincts and make her own decisions. Perhaps a solitary life is not the “responsible choice.” Perhaps what she needs is the exact opposite.

Eve follows Karlach’s advice and does not drink any further. She has some water and food and she feels herself sobering up as the party slowly begins to quiet down and Astarion disappears somewhere in the forest. 

With this newly gained mental clarity comes a wave of second thoughts, and among them, a realization that she is not even sure if she’s ever had sex. Though if she had, she is grateful that she doesn’t remember the details, given the few gory glimpses she’s gotten into other aspects of her past life. 

Would she even be good at it? Can you be bad at it? If she has done it before, will instincts and muscle memory just take over?

No, nothing taking over, no thank you.

She supposes that if all else fails, she can just make up for her lack of experience with enthusiasm.

Fuck, what was I thinking?!

Astarion certainly seems like he knows what he’s doing. Maybe she can just let him take the lead and hope she doesn’t embarrass herself.

Gods fucking damn it.

Eve takes a deep breath, the chilly evening air grounding as it fills her lungs. 

It’s fine. It will be fine.

She doesn’t want to back out this time. 

Thoughts of Astarion have been flooding her mind for longer than she cares to admit. And perhaps this is an opportunity to finally stop wondering what his chest would feel like pressed against her, what his fingers would feel like digging into her hips–

Surely she will sate her curiosity and then she will be able to focus on more important matters.

After all, they’re both adults. They could be dead tomorrow. That’s all there is to it. This doesn’t have to mean anything… right?

A single thought reverberates through her mind as she heads towards the treeline:

Just this once.

________________

thank you for reading! if you enjoyed, I have a whole series about these two, because as you might have guessed, it was not "just this once" :)

tag not-quite-list: @roguishcat 💕 (lmk if you'd like to be added!)

[perictione00]

Selfish

Ch 1: Surprise!!!

Pairing: Geto Suguru x reader

Warnings: a bit dark and graphic..?

Synopsis: You left the Jujutsu World behind the moment the source of your warmth turned cold. So what happens when you come face to face with that one episode in your life that you wanted to obliterate? Simple, you reap what you sow.

Jujutsu Kaisen Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Malaysia, 2014

It was a tiring day, your period wasn't helping either. You were just itching to get home, take a shower, and order from that new Mexican place your boyfriend had been talking about. It was a Friday, so you were getting excited about the weekend. For some reason, you were feeling so grateful, maybe because your life was finally normal and you were happy. It was all okay until you encountered a young boy in a wheelchair, with a curse engulfing his lower body. A world that you wanted to escape so desperately, somehow never failed to present itself in a situation that made you question your morality. But after everything you had seen, you were way past morality, so you ignored the boy like you did with every other person who needed you.

"Jayden", you called out for your boyfriend as you opened the door to your shared apartment. You assumed, that he wasn't home yet as nobody answered but the familiar cursed energy you sensed said otherwise. You felt dreaded as it wasn't possible, you had dodged every single mistake that could have given away your whereabouts.

"Please no", you prayed as you walked further into the apartment. You froze, as you entered your bedroom. The bed was soaked in blood as the lifeless body of your boyfriend was being violated by a curse. "No, no, no, no, no", tears spilled out of your eyes as you started screaming in denial. It quickly turned into anger as a certain raven-haired man standing in the corner declared his presence, "Surprise!!!". You attacked him with a punch straight to his face and he didn't budge, he didn't dodge the many punches you threw his way while crying your heart out. He did stop you, chuckling, "Aww, don't cry..did you actually love this one? C'mon now, you know you're not capable of that". He started cradling you in a hug, "Now let's get back to business.., remember the traitor who left me?.. yeah, yeah, the one I trusted the most, remember that person?", his hand slid down your hair slowly as he continued, "oh wait, you look a lot like that person..the one who abandoned me".

2005

On New Year's Eve, you told your mum about some weird dreams you were having for the past few days, and of course, being a typical mother, she blamed it on your choices of television series. But you knew it wasn't because of the few Supernatural episodes that you had seen in the span of two months.

From the beginning of time, you were used to seeing terrifying figures randomly, which were avoided at all costs as you were scared of what might turn out if they knew of your existence. However, your parents thought otherwise, resulting in child therapy, which wasn't working yet you pretended it did. You adapted to your surroundings being full of creepy creatures, ignoring them, and trying to live like a normal teenager. That was until the onset of some weird dreams and a malevolent presence under your bed. It was weird, as none of them ever came in close proximity to you. Hence, you started sleeping with your parents again. The nightmares didn't stop; in spite of that, you felt good, safe, and loved, no longer scared.

The peacefulness vanished on the first day of 2006, when you were alone in the house and someone was singing a broken melody. You were petrified as you saw a woman playing a violin emerging from a newborn's skull, singing while rocking to the rhythm in the drawing room, suddenly stopping, turning, and smiling unnaturally at you.

"You would make a beautiful cello."

You bolted as it proceeded to move crookedly in your direction. It was guffawing so loudly that you had to cover your ears. Locking yourself in the bathroom, you called your parents, whispering to them about how much you loved them, until you heard a frightening tune on a piano. The call was disconnected, and the door started melting while you tried to escape from the window you couldn't reach. The room started turning white, and you saw your reflection in the mirror, smiling at you. Your vision blurred as you fell into a slumber.

Waking up, your eyes adjusted to the brightness of a white room. You felt agitated at first, but slowly observing, you saw your parents sitting sadly on a white couch. Thank fuck, it was a hospital room. Their happiness and relief after your recovery from an unexplainable incident couldn't be measured. You were spoiled rotten with love as you woke up after a week of unconsciousness. In the evening of the same day, a bulky man in all black approached your family, discussing something before finally coming to you. He introduced himself as Masamichi Yaga and unfolded the world of Jujutsu sorcerers to you. Though your parents were sure he was a cult member, you felt ecstatic; you weren't crazy after all. With that came many days of convincing, resulting in your parents ultimately agreeing to admit you to Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College after checking its legitimacy a thousand more times. They were not ready to let you go, but they came around as you kept insisting with evidence.

On the way to the campus, the tough-looking man turned out to be a total softie who was explaining to you about your unknown technique and appreciating you for exorcising a grade 2 curse without any training. You were dumbfounded, but you were a sucker for praise, so you didn't question him.

After reaching the campus, you were introduced to your classmates, an almost gloomy Kento Nanami, and a total cutie, Yu Haibara. They were great, especially Haibara, who was currently showing you around the campus. After getting a hot drink, you both settled down on a seat. You weren't expecting to get along with anyone on the very first day, but Haibara's just so sweet that anyone can feel comfortable. He showed you your assigned room, and you guys called it a night.

However, later at night, your slumber was disrupted by a growling stomach at 3 in the morning. It was odd timing for a takeout, but you still gave it a shot, ordering a Zaru Soba with cola. You were surprised at how advanced the Tokyo delivery system was, as you got your delivery within 10 minutes. It tasted better than your expectations, and with that, you started brainstorming ideas to decorate your room, which was interrupted by a knock on the door. You ignored it the first time out of caution, but you opened it on the third knock. To your surprise, a literal god stood in front of you, and you didn't know how to react. "Hey..?", you broke the ice with an awkward greeting.

"I think the delivery guy confused our orders because we ordered the same thing, so I'm assuming this is yours", the Greek god said as he offered you your cola.

"Oh yeah, thanks..um..yeah", you were doing a great job continuing the conversation with your five syllables. Before you could close the door and save your ass from embarrassment, the guy asked for your name, and you told him. Shit, now you felt obligated to ask his name, and so you did. "And you are?"

"Geto Suguru"

Ch 2

[eggyboyoart]

I was gonna post a vid on tiktok bc I have more followers there but i'll post it here because-

When I die, I wanna be reincarnated into Redacted Tumblr as a beautiful Lasko/Gavin spicy fic-

Anyway, I drew the D.A.M.N. boys + Imperium AU :D Please look at them, its late and I'm tired.

I also have a speedpaint of them on my yt (eggyboyoart) so if you wanted to look at that as well, I would be rlly happy :))

(TW: Spoilers for Imperium AU)

I wanted Lasko to look super light and soft and cloud-like while also being kind of elegant?? He looks so poofy :D

I hc that he takes rlly RLLY great care of his hair, like- mans has a 23 step routine to keep it untangled and soft :))

The hair routine also helps him relax and de-stress after a long day

I also headcanon that he wears a lot of light, soft sweaters with a button up underneath for that academic soft boy look

In the Imperium AU, he got the scar across his eye from a wayward daemon who tried to attack him in the D.A.M.N. daemon haven.

He wears his hair tied back into a low pony tail to seem more 'professional', bc my mans is the ACADEMY PRESIDENT :D

Imp! Lasko wears a black suit with a white button up and either a red or light blue tie (gotta keep it professional when you're tormenting daemons and chasing after uninterested freelancers :|)

IDK why but whenever I imagine Damien (original timeline), its always with rlly short hair

idk I feel like if he had long hair, it would make him too warm around his neck and that'd make him uncomfortable and grumpy (well, more grumpy than he usually is anyway)

gotta keep the neck open for air flow (and easy access-)

I think he wears a lot of sleeveless clothes (tank tops, sleeveless hoodies, etc and shorts bc of the heat

Damien is a chronic khaki shorts wearer, I'M SORRY-

Imp! Damien is royalty so obvs gotta keep it professional

I feel like he would have other priorities than cutting his hair so it mostly just gets slicked back out of his face

The scar on his neck is from a failed assassination attempt (our boy damien stays livin', unlike Angel-)

I feel like he still wears sleeveless shirts but also wears a fur cape (like, one of those white ones with the black spots with the red velvet) which seems counter intuitive.

I am relieved to say that Imp! Damien doesn't wear khaki shorts :D silver linings, guys-

I wanna start this off my saying, Imp! Huxley might be one of my favourite characters

Hes just, such a piece of shit and I don't want to change him, I want him to stay exactly how he is, thats the POINT-

Freelancer bought him neon jewellery for his lip piercings and he screamed when he got them

also a sweater wearer like lasko but he likes his sweaters to be oversized, but because hes just big, his sweaters are like blankets for regular sized ppl

he has his hair kinda long-ish bc freelancer enjoys playing with it and he likes making his friends happy so he keeps it kinda long just for them-

Imp! Huxley is a piece of shit and we love him for that

He doesn't have friends so his hair is shorter

He probably wears tactical gear/uniform bc he is an enforcer, but its all like a dark green which looks rlly good on him

no neon piercings for Imp! Hux as much as I hate to say it

GAVIN OUR FASHION ICON-

He knows clothes like he knows freelancer's body- IN AND OUT. Hes got that shit LOCKED DOWN

Freelancer gave him the heart glasses as a gift

Gavin never saw the appeal of piercings until freelancer said they would look hot on him, REALLY enjoys all the different types of jewellery

Probably wears patterned button up shirts (with as many buttons undone as possible) with skin tight jean/leather pants

Imp! Gavin dresses like hes homeless, theres no time for fashion when you're trying to survive in an dystopian magic world where everyone hates you :P

I hc that when a Daemon gets low in energy/emotions, they can't keep their 'glamour/human form' up so they forcibly have to take on their more daemonic traits (horns, coloured eyes, markings, tails, claws, etc)

and bc of the shit hole that the Imperium AU world is... :|

I also hc that only sex and sadism daemons have coloured sclera

[hananosami]

Beautiful Boy

synopsis: Gojo Satoru finally proposes to his long-term girlfriend, and his students find out about how prudent his proposal was. As the students bicker with their teacher about how unromantic his proposal was, his girlfriend couldn't help but feel nostalgic upon watching this interaction. This leads her to reminiscence about the times when Gojo was a father figure to their adoptive son, Megumi.

One of the moments that she holds dear to her heart, would be when Dad Gojo sings to Megumi- in an attempt to help him fall asleep.

Reader and Gojo have been in a relationship since high school, and took care of Megumi and his sister together.

word count: 1.5k +

Author's Note: This is a chapter taken out of my fanfic that I wrote, but I essentially wrote it almost like a stand alone piece. Gojo acting like a dad is one of those things that I hold very close and dear to my heart. I really poured my heart out into this one.

"What kind of proposal was that?!" 

Nobara yelled, as she was holding unto your hand and was inspecting the ring quite intently. She'd twist your hand, to see how much the ring would shimmer under the light. If you were being honest, it was probably for the best to never mention that the two of you had actually lost the ring and it took quite a bit of time to look for it. Thankfully Satoru imbued some of his cursed energy into the ring, making it a tidbit easier to look for. 

Maki would then attack his teacher as well, telling him that you deserved better than just some measly proposal. Now, that was out of character for the green haired woman, but she just had so much love for you- so she too, wanted nothing less than for you to receive what you deserved. 

"You better propose to her again, Satoru!"

"Shake!"

"Yeah sensei, for a romantic, you'd think you'd get the hang of this by now.."

Now, even Yuta was also greatly disappointed by his teacher. But Gojo took it all, he'd cling unto Megumi, with fake tears in his eyes. "'Gumiiiii~ Help meee! They're attacking your precious 'dad'!" And you couldn't help but snicker at how the raven haired boy rolled his eyes, "She really did deserve better, you know?" Then Gojo clutched unto his chest, right where his heart would be. "My own son, on their side?!" He'd gasp, as he put a hand on his forehead, acting like he was about to faint. 

You couldn't help but laugh at the situation that was unfolding itself in front of you, they were more mad than you were. But as you watched the interaction between the kids and their sensei, you couldn't help but feel nostalgic at the thought of how these were essentially his kids. Children that he has essentially raised, and fought for in front of the council. One might even argue that Gojo Satoru has been a better father figure to them, than anybody else was.

But Gojo never saw himself as a fatherly figure, nor could he ever imagine himself having his own children. It was something that you've always known, something that the two have talked about when talking about the future. Sure, there would be moments in time that he'd get baby fever and want a kid of his own- but the truth of the matter is, he'd be too worried for their safety if it ever came to fruition.

He could also never see himself actively being there, being thrown into missions that the higher-ups would send him to- with no regard to the days he has taken off from work. But he knew, that if you were ever got pregnant on accident again, he'd take full responsibility. Even if he was never sure of the future, he'd make his priority to always be there for you. 

But you saw him under a different light, you knew that Gojo was always meant to become a father. Despite his upbringing, he was always one step ahead of proving himself to be a better man than his father could've ever been. He's already proved himself to be such a good man, at the ripe age of eighteen, when he took someone in that wasn't even blood-related to him in anyway. Then you'd see it, the way he'd raise the two children and that's how you knew- he'd make an amazing father.

"The monsters gone, he's on the run and your daddy's here.."

You'd hear a soft voice sing from inside of the bedroom, peeking in, you'd see your twenty year old lover sing to the raven haired boy. "Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful.. Beautiful boy.." You couldn't help but smile, as you watched your snowy haired lover caress the younger boys fluffy hair, noticing that the little boy's eyes were slowly fluttering closed. 

"Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful.. Beautiful.. Boy.." He'd whisper in a hum-like sound, as Megumi's entire body rested against Gojo's side. Gojo smiles, as he slowly removes himself off of Megumi's bed. He snuggly tucks the little boy in bed, before-

"Goodnight, 'Gumi.. See you in the morning.."

Gojo never knew that you noticed these little things that he did for the children, maybe because by the time he'd left Megumi's room, you'd act like you just came home from work; acting clueless as if you didn't see how gentle he was with Megumi. You wanted him to figure it out on his own, for him to see that he would make a great father. But despite his high and almighty, egotistic act, you always knew what he thought of himself. That he always had thoughts of never being good enough to have kids of his own, and you knew that it was his deep-rooted fear of becoming like his father.

You always begged to differ, especially when the closed off boy called him 'papa' for the very first time. It was 2011 and you remember that day so vividly, Satoru wasn't even suppose to come- because he had been held back due to a sudden mission he was sent to by the higher-ups. You saw how disappointed Megumi was, especially since he was graduating elementary school and was now entering middle school- but he wasn't surprised. Satoru was an extremely busy man, especially now, since he is rising up in the ranks- and Megumi knew that. So the young boy never bothered him with such trivial things, like his elementary school graduation; he would have many more anyways. 

"Meeeeguuuumiiiiii~!"

Then there it was, the voice of you incredulously handsome lover. "Satoru?!" You'd turn around in surprise, to see the man running to the both of you wearing a black suit and flowers in hand. Turning to Megumi, you'd see the way his eyes widened and the little sparkle that manifested within them. "Did you really think I'd miss your graduation?" He'd ask theoretically, as he scooped the little boy into his arms, nuzzling his cheek against the little boys. 

"If you're here, then what about the mission?" You'd ask, noticing the way women would whisper amongst themselves. But you already knew what they were gossiping amongst themselves, and it would be how such a good-looking young man could already have a child; it wasn't your first time in this rodeo. "Ohhhh! Yeah! I finished it quickly~!" He'd glee, causing for you to furrow your eyebrows. 

"Oh Satoru.." He'd cut you off, knowing well that you were worried about him. "I'm alright sweetheart, besides I'm the strongest! And there's no way I could ever miss such an important occasion." He smiles, reaching a hand up to ruffle your hair softly. But the little boy in his arms was just in complete awe, genuinely surprised he was here. "Papa", the little boy spoke, causing for Satoru to turn his attention his adoptive son- flabbergasted.

"What.. What'd you just-" 

But before he could ask, he was cut off. "Excuse me?" A young beautiful woman spoke, as she stood by your lover's side. "I was just wondering if you were available to get some coffee-.." Causing Megumi to wrap his arms tighter around Satoru's neck, "Mama and papa are taking me out today to go eat in a restaurant." Which now left you stunned, especially at how out of character Megumi was acting. The young boy never acted out, nor has he ever called Satoru 'papa' before. You watched as the young woman's face flushed red in embarrassment, "Oh god! I didn't realize you two were his parents, I thought you were just relatives of his. I'm so sorry!" She spoke in a hurry, before quickly excusing herself out of that situation. 

Satoru turned his attention to the young boy, who was looking at him with that same stoic look. "'Gumi, call me that again.." But instead of hearing 'papa' leave his lips, his face only contorted into a disgusted one. "Come on 'Gumi! One more time!" He'd whine, nuzzling his cheek once more against his adoptive sons. You'd watch the two in amusement, content, as you watched Megumi have that soft and playful smile plastered unto his lips. It made you feel at ease, knowing that Megumi would never refer to Satoru as his father if he never meant it, and you knew it took a lot out of him to do so. 

And that's how you knew, that Gojo Satoru would be an amazing father.

[sashi-ya]

𝐢 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐛𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬

⭒ pairing: kuchiki byakuya x f! reader. R 18+ ⭒ requested by Anonymous [Bya-kun Anon 🌸] 💖 ⭒ inspired on the song: 𝄞 I Wanna Be Yours by Artic Monkeys 𝄞 ⭒ tw: MDNI. Byakun is finally out of the pond, awake and needy than ever. passionate, love making. love love love. not that lustful. ⭒ masterlist a song + a character event

“He is awake, (Name)!” Rukia chimed, desperately and abruptly breaking the state of full concentration you were in.

You open your eyes, looking at her with a shine you were lacking since that day… the day you almost lost him.

“BYAKUYA-SAMA? HE IS UP?” you ask, jolting from the cold tatami and running outside. You usually adore to spend time with Rukia, but you couldn’t think of anything else but to hug him so tightly.

As you run through the corridors of squad 0, you pass right through the door of where he is.

“(Name)…” he utters, peaking outside the room.

Your feet carve marks into the ground to stop and turn around. His hair, still wet. Just the white kimono covering a healthy body. And his severe, yet so kind eyes looking at you, waiting for your brain to process that’s really him.

Your lips separate as your jaw relaxes. Your eyes soften. The man you spend looking at while floating on what it looked like an eternal bath, is finally standing on both feet in front of you.

“How many times I have to tell you, you shouldn’t run through the halls?” he scolds you, because that’s his love language.

“Byakuya-sama!!!!” you run to him, feeling the strength of his reiatsu. Stronger than you ever felt, as if it was new… his soul felt like a new one, though, that what made him unique still lingered in your heart.

He receives you in his arms, as you pounce into him. Your legs surround his waist, your arms his neck. He presses you against his body hard enough to break your bones.

You cough a little. How comes he is that strong? He isn’t used to his new him?

“Sorry, I feel… uh… weird. My arms, they feel strong- I haven’t yet-“ he tries to excuse himself, ripping a gasp from your throat; Byakuya never apologizes, not to you, nor anyone else under him.

“No… crush my bones if you must, Kuchiki Taicho. I don’t care… you… you are alright…” you whisper, grabbing his face in between your hands with utmost care.

Your nose touches his, as he walks back inside that room. Your lips beg to join the other. Your souls, pleading to bond once more.

“I won’t crush your bones, don’t be silly. And don’t be so loud, ok? I am ok, how are you?” he asks, resting his forehead on yours, so assure you are absolutely healthy.

You nod, acknowledging that, even if your relationship wasn’t a secret… there were still some things the rest didn’t know. After all, both were just starting to love each other when the Quincy attacked.

“I’m so happy you are alive, Taicho” you whisper, with tears coming to your eyes. You saw him die, so his arms around your body still feel unreal.

Your fingertips move his wet hair off his face. You might be the only person allowed to do so. “Look at you, so beautiful as ever…” you purr.

Byakuya’s expression also softens, looking at you with eyes of profound love and also a lot of regrets.

“I am sorry, love. I swear I won’t ever again fail you, nor Rukia, nor Renji, nor the Sei-“ he tries to excuse for putting his life in danger to protect you all. But you won’t let him say such nonsense. Byakuya shouldn’t feel guilty, Byakuya should feel proud.

“Byakuya…” you let yourself call him by his first name with no honorifics this time. “You made us all the proudest we could ever be. Thank you for protecting us all, thank you for putting yourself there to fight them… you, Byakuya, you are the definition of a true soldier. I know you for the very first time asked for help, and you have no idea how proud I am of you…”

He looks at you, with the rain in his eyes and a storm inside his core. “You…” he barely murmurs before crashing his lips against yours with the force of a thousand souls in one.

Byakuya’s lips feel so soft as always. His arms feel as warm as always. But his soul, feels bigger than ever.

And so many kisses both share, that you wish you could tell him how his you wanna be. How much you love him, even if he probably already knows… However, the one who you thought would never be yours, this time is the one asking you for it the most…

As you two slide down, him falling on his knees with you straddling your hips on his lap, the kisses never stop and his tears neither they do.

Byakuya lifts you a little bit up just to make you comfortable over him, and for some minutes he forgot his own surname. He wasn’t Kuchiki Byakuya, the head of the Kuchiki clan. He wasn’t the captain of the sixth squad of the Gotei 13… he was, simply, a lover whose feelings needed to be shared.

“I wanna be yours…” he whines, with lips grazing yours and a painful pleading stare. “Yes, Byakuya. And I will never let you go, my love…” you murmur, kissing him back with so much love you even feel like it wasn’t possible to feel for a person.

His hand slides your kimono up, finding your core, so unaware of how wet you are. Desperately, he searches for concealing any little gap in between your bodies. Is not physical desire what moves him now, it is just and purely the lust of his heart for yours.

You let his white kimono slide through his shoulders, exposing his chest and back. Hands that can’t stop feeling every little indentation of such sacred flesh.

A dichotomy in between the delicacy and the dominancy of his sex, searching to bury into you, to feel ablaze by the walls of your femininity. The slender, soft fingers of his, traveling up and down the small of your back. The scent of his flesh, of clean flowery perfume, of musk masculine perfection.

“I wanna… no, I need to make love to you” he grunts, asking for the final permission to slide himself deep in.

“Please, I wanna be yours, make me yours. Make love to me…” you whine, moving so that he is able to finally penetrate you.

You throw your head back whenever feeling the tip stretching your entrance, and even if so many times your bodies have shared the heat of passion… today, things feel different. Like a reborn star, stronger, harder. No more sex, this time making love.

You bounce on him, both moaning into each other’s mouths. Your hands playing with his wet tufts of hair over his back, his pressing you harder against himself by your waist. How deep he wanna go? as deep as the love he has for you.

“I will forever protect… ngh… you. I’m yours. I’m so yours. I am all of the things that are yours, I am yours” he repeats, panting, as you can sense his shaft twitching inside you.

“Then, that means the whole world is mine… my love” you whisper, kissing the tears on his cheeks… because he is to you, exactly that… your whole world.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ...

“Kuchiki Byakuya, your food is ready! I baked them all with my spi…ri…tual… Well, the pond seemed to be enough apparently! However, please eat once you two are finished!”

[dreamlandcreations]

Beauty and the Beast

Darth Maul x Queen of Naboo!Reader

Summary: Maul is tasked to keep you in line while his master's plan comes together on Coruscant...

Warnings: angst, enemies to lovers (it doesn't really get to the lovers part but that's where this is going); mentions of child kidnapping, of murder and maybe other war crimes, of blackmail/threats (from canon), not proofread at all, a mess of POVs, long fic?, idk I went a little crazy with this

inspired by @alexversenaberrie's edits for @maulweek

~ 3K words

• Darth Maul masterlist • Main Masterlist • Moodboards masterlist •

• Series masterlist • Next part •

You called him a beast the first time you've seen what he is capable of. You never would have thought that he takes it to heart and tries to hide from you through the weeks when he acts as your guard while keeping you imprisoned in your own palace.

Maul wasn't much of a talker, so to say he was speechless when he saw you for the first time would probably not justify the feelings that still hold him captive from that moment - along with the pain and rage that your words caused him, of course - but he had no better way to describe the experience, as he was never taught to indulge in anything like this. Quite the opposite actually.

He was holding onto those lessons, trying to fuel his rage with the pain he felt when he realised he wanted you and you would never feel the same. He was trying to hate you, telling himself that you are just a spoiled princess who is nothing but a pawn in his master's plans.

His resolve would crumble within seconds of meeting you each day. The way you proudly held on and denied each offer of an easy way out, readily providing a defiant and sometimes mocking answer to everything your weak-minded enemies said. They thought they could break you but Maul knew better, he felt your strength and the underlining growing rage that might just burn them all in the end.

The Queen of Naboo fascinated him beyond words, not just with her beauty that he was fortunate to witness without all the paint you hide behind these days, but everything else he learned about you in this short time. Even the fact that you are strong enough to keep him out of your mind.

You felt his eyes on you all the time, he never said anything but most of the time you could tell what he was thinking. For how little he was showing of his face, it was really telling. Especially his eyes, that you were unfortunately too mesmerised by to look away from on the rare occasion he was actually facing you and not staring out of the window or looking menacingly at your captors.

But he was also your captor, you had to remind yourself way too often. Your mind regularly took you in the direction of wondering about his past. Because you needed to understand him in order to defeat him. Or at least that's what you've been telling yourself.

One afternoon he decided to barge into your bedchamber and caught you hacking into the Trade Federation's network to communicate with your trusted handmaidens, one of which took your place and your senator who escaped with the Jedi the Sith tried to kill. He smashed the consol with his mind and grabbed you by your throat, finding you without your armour of paint and jewels.

For a moment Maul thought the tears, fear and pain he saw were a result of his attack but the message you just listened to was still on and the display kept glitching but he understood the point of the news you received. The Senate abandoned you.

He saw how your misery turned into scorching anger that any Sith could envy and he couldn't help but stare admiringly. Then he let you go, curious as to what you would do. He did not expect you to have a weapon in your sleeve though.

It took him by surprise, not just the dagger but the attack too. You were nowhere near as good as him but you were trained well to use everything to your advantage and if he was an ordinary man, you might have managed to seriously hurt him too.

The first stab grazed his cheek, drawing a faint line of blood but he didn't even flinch and that somehow made you angrier, if that was possible. He let you surrender to your rage, not even trying to stop your attacks, just leaning away and stepping backwards a few times until he got you next to a pillar and grabbed your hand, hitting it against the stone until you dropped the blade.

He caught you, turning you around and pulling you to him, trapping you in his arms as you fell to the floor then he just let you scream with helpless rage while you still struggled against him. But after a while you became too exhausted, sagging in his hold completely, the back of your head hitting his shoulder.

He let you go after savouring your closeness for a stolen moment. After you pulled away, turning around, positioning yourself to face him while you sat against the pillar he carefully moved too, not to scare or agitate you. Resting his elbow on his bent knee, he subtly leaned a little closer, studying you while you collected yourself.

He didn't say anything as you calmed down and wiped your tears with your sleeve. Then you were looking at him, trying to figure out why he let you off so easily and you wanted to ask so many other things but you realised you didn't even know what to call him, so you asked first, "What is your name?"

"Maul," he answered before he could think this through and didn't even take your acknowledging hmm as an insult as he might with anyone else. And before you could start to interrogate him, he let his curiosity known.

"What is yours?" Your frown told him what would be your answer, so he quickly clarified. "The real one."

Maul didn't expect to get a weak smile at that and even though it was gone before he could blink, he knew it was there and the image would surely come back to plague him later.

"Can't you read my mind and find out?" You arched a brow challengingly, almost playfully and he felt a tug in his hearts at that. Before you continued and managed to hit a sensitive topic. "I thought Jedi could make people do things..."

"I am not a Jedi!" he growled back at you, cutting off your taunting.

"Clearly," you responded with only a little less hint of disdain.

He narrowed his eyes, apparently deeply insulted by the comparison. "The force is not the privilege of the Jedi, no matter how highly they put themselves above others."

"Is that why you hate them?"

"They wiped out my kind." You frowned at that.

"You are a Zabrak, aren't you? Your kind lives on Iridonia and Dathomir, I..."

He interrupted again, obviously not wanting to discuss that topic either but his confused expression betrayed the reason for his sudden change of topic. "The Jedi will not help you, nor will the Senate. Sign the treaty and end the suffering of your people."

Now that you were starting to understand him, you knew how to get what you wanted. In his case, with a little bit more antagonizing while satisfying your curiosity. "You could force me to sign it. Why didn't you?"

He stood up, turning his back on you, going to take his usual place in your presence, staring out of the window. "Only the weak are easy to control."

"You almost killed two Jedi, I don't suppose that is an easy task either."

He turned back to you, reaching up and slowly taking off his hood, daring you to look away. So you didn't. You kept looking at him, taking in his features with little to no emotion on your own face.

"What? You don't find this beast so hideous anymore now that you have no other hope?"

Now that, got him a reaction. You looked at him in utter confusion before you understood what he was referring to.

"I did not call you a beast because of the way you look but for how you acted." Although you truly meant it, he took the hint of laughter in your voice in the wrong way.

Quickly making the distance between you, he grabbed you by your throat once more. "You think I am so easily fooled?"

It was a little harder to breathe from the pressure but he wasn't really hurting you so you took a chance and went back to the question he dodged twice now. "If you don't believe me, why don't you look for yourself? See what I think about you."

You could see how he was struggling to hold back something but he gave up on it after a long moment of silent contemplation. But he decided to show you instead of simply telling.

You felt something trying to push into your consciousness, and despite it being almost gentle, something in you snapped and shouted inwardly 'no!' as you somehow pushed it away like it burned you. Your vision darkened for a second, and you could have blamed it on that or the following dizzyness that you saw a hint of a smile on his usually stern face but his eyes were still telling, speaking of feelings you did not want to dig deeper into.

But then he confirmed his admiration for you as he explained with a gentle tone, "You are strong. To break down your walls would mean breaking you."

With his answer, his hold on you loosened too and if you didn't know better you would have sworn you felt him caress your chin as he let you go. He moved to step back and give you some space but you surprised him again.

"Try it again."

It was almost cute how he tilted his head to the side and regarded you with utter astonishment. Then he did as you asked.

Your little experiment went a bit sideways though, because while you managed to let him in, somehow you also caught a memory he obviously didn't mean to project to your mind. And he did not take your thoughts well to that painful memory of one of the first lessons he remembered.

"I am not broken," he growled, oversimplifying what you thought.

"Yes, you are." You boldly approached him, explaining your conclusions with a gentle tone. "The Jedi take very young children to train them. You were taken too. Otherwise, you would know more about your origin, if it had been your choice to leave."

He didn't answer and even refused to look at you but you were not afraid anymore. You didn't have much to lose anyway.

"You have a master, don't you?" Still no answer. "He's the one who broke you. And he will order you to break me too."

He knew you were right but it would mean that all of his suffering was for nothing, because he knew couldn't do it. He couldn"t hurt you and he will lose everything. So he did what he was taught and leaned on his anger, lashing out at you to avoid facing the truth.

"What do you know of any of that, Your Highness? Living in your fancy little palace, surrounded by servants and riches must have been a terrible fate."

The fury reflected in his glowing eyes might have scared you a few days ago, but not anymore. You did not even return his anger, answering in a calm and confident tone that enchanted him.

"I was elected to be Queen for the first time when I was barely fourteen. While I can't even imagine what you went through, I do have an idea about the weight of expectations put on you when you are way too young to bare them."

You jumped a little as he finally silenced the still crackling comms and left without a word.

The next morning your predictions came true. His master contacted them.

"Let's end this once and for all. Make her sign it." The hooded figure ordered him and for the first time in years, he did not follow the instruction immediately.

"If I force her mind open, it will kill her."

Maul knew it was no use to try to subtly argue and his master confirmed that without delay. "She only has to live long enough to sign the treaty."

"I understand, my master." And for the first time, since he can remember, he truly did. He knew what he had to do.

Maul, as always, kept his eyes on you from the moment you were led into the throne room in your usually complicated attire. You didn't meet his gaze though, probably preparing for the worse.

The droids surrounded you, with the two Neimoidians on Maul's right. They asked for your cooperation one more time. You refused.

Maul reached out and took hold of you with the force, finally making you look at him as he held your body immobile. He grabbed his lightsaber and ignited one of the blades, making his supposed allies nervously fidgety next to him.

Your gaze flickered to the blade too before you met his again with confusion. Then you felt it. The nudge against your mind, it was deceptively gentle but it made you gasp and your eyes widen and that was enough to fool your enemies for now.

Maul realised you didn't trust him, so he had to change his plans if he didn't want to risk you getting hurt. So his eyes flickered in the direction of the throne where he knew the guns were still hidden and he applied a little more force into his hold to let you know he will push you that way.

The four droideka were firing before their masters even realised what was going on. He dodged their shots whit his lightsaber, cutting down the Viceroy with the same swing. You quickly grabbed the weapon, using the throne as a cover and fired on the other droids and witnessed with awe as Maul sent two of the shielded droid out the large window, crushed another with a big piece of stone he pulled from the floor and simply crushed the last one with the force.

Despite the loud fight, you did not hear any reinforcements approaching so when Maul dragged the other Neimoidian from his hiding place you approached them and to your new friend's amusement didn't hesitate to knock the other male out with one punch.

Maul felt his hearts skip a beat or two as you smiled at him with gratitude. He felt himself to be in some kind of trance as he deactivated his lightsaber and stepped closer to you.

He wanted to reach out and touch you but halted as he realised that he would smear the paint he liked to refer to as your armour. You caught the hint of the smile he was trying to hide but before you could ask, he reminded you that your fight was not done yet.

The two of you went to the chamber that was used as a prison, freeing the pilots and guards and locking in the Neimoidian.

It was easy from then on, with the droid control ship gone so was the invading army.

Somewhere during the meeting between the remaining council members, Maul wandered away and you later found him lounging on your throne. You stifled a laugh and quickly stopped your guards from shooting at him, dismissing them stating that, "I will be perfectly safe."

When you look at him, he silently taunts you and you could almost hear the "Why are you so sure that you are perfectly safe with me." And you can't help but smile at that, looking at him with a similar expression that says "Comfortable?"

Then he stands before you in a blink of an eye, reaching out again but stopping this time as well. Only for you to take his hands, stepping a little closer.

Your smile fades as you realise. "You want to leave."

He shakes his head, looking away. "I defied my master, he will not forget that."

"So you just plan to be on the run for the rest of your life?"

Your anger takes him by surprise, he expected you to be glad that you don't have to deal with the political headache that his presence would bring. And he certainly not expected you to be ready to fight for him.

"You can stay here. If you want." The addition to the offer was not lost on him. So much has changed in such a little time span, he was free to choose what to do, and he wasn't sure how to handle this.

Taking his silence as a sign that he was thinking about it you started to think through the possibilities. "I am certain you can handle any assassin he would send and I doubt your mysterious master would come here personally..."

Your tone asked for confirmation but he just quietly huffed at the way you said 'mysterious' as one would call someone a coward or something equally insulting.

"The Jedi and the Senate will want my head."

He thought that was it, but again, it seems he underestimated your stubbornness. "Well, fuck the Jedi and fuck the Senate. They did not save us. You did."

"I also helped your enemies."

You sighed and let go of his hands to cup his cheeks like he wished to do with you countless times. And he felt his throat tighten not just at that gesture but because of what you said next. "Was that something you chose to do?"

He took a deep breath and looked down again, unable to meet your eyes. Unable to handle your faith in him. But you did not let him go that easy.

"Stay with me," you asked in an almost whisper, feeling just how fragile was this moment.

When he looked at you again he placed his hands on yours and you felt the now familiar push that meant he was trying to read your thoughts. You let him but you also said them out loud.

"Stay." You repeated. "I will protect you and you will keep me safe."

He smiled at that. It was little more than a hint of amusement but it reached his eyes and the sight filled you with warmth.

You were so preoccupied with that that you did not realise he went a little deeper, chasing that emotion he felt from the moment you met but could never put it into words. He understood that you knew what it was but weren't ready to consciously acknowledge it yet, he would have to ask you later. Until then he might just get more comfortable with his other feelings and newfound freedom, he could live with this annoying little tug on his hearts and on what one might call a soul for a little while. Only if it didn't get more bothersome every time you smile at him. Like now, when he returns your promise with a single word. "I'll stay."

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[naturallyteal]

Good Omens (pod)fic recommendation for July

The Voice of the Lion Was Heard in the Land

by A_N_D @madenthusiasms

Summary: Everyone said that working on the "Leo and Friends" cartoon was like heaven, it was so much fun… until a homophobic campaign attacks Tony Crowley (voice of Simon the Snake) and he is cast out.

As paradise crumbles, Az Fell is faced with a dilemma – can he save both Tony and Leo? Or is he going to have to choose between his heavenly job and the man he loves?

~~~

I’ve always read a lot. Since I saw Good Omens S2 last Fall, I read a lot of Good Omens fanfics, and listen to podfics of them.

Some stories stay long and live in my heart, and one of those I want to recommend today especially.

It’s a beautiful, heartwrenching but also heartwarming story. It is deep and I learned from it and it helped me deal with things.

👍

GO read!

Or

Here is @skyasimaru ‘s original tumblr post for the podfic.

👍

GO listen!

In 7 chapters, the Human AU is ~22 k words and the podfic ~3.5 hours.

It’s rated „Teen and Up“.

A little warning: Might result in crying a lot, so keep your hankies close!

More about the picture (that I tempered with) and it‘s artist, Rene Magritte, below the cut, if you’re curious:

The original is called „Homesickness“, by Rene Magritte, 1940

Fun fact: Magritte originally thought of calling it Menopause (a period of depression) but his final title is Le Mal du Pays (Homesickness).

Both titles fit wonderfully with the story.

I changed the blackwinged person‘s hair to red, and added the snake tattoo and glasses, so you can more easily imagine it’s Crowley. Here’s the original version:

[thatlovinfeelin]

Half a Heart - One - Jake Hangman Seresin

Blaire Montgomery moved away from all she ever knew at eighteen to conceal a secret. Now nearly fourteen years later, her secret is finally out of the bag when her and her thirteen year old daughter, Lucy, quite literally run into Jake Seresin, young Lucy's father. All three lives are forever changed due to one fateful encounter, and two hearts are once again made whole.

Blaire Montgomery walked along the street, hand in hand with her daughter, laughing at a joke that the young teenager just told. Together, they made their way across the board walk of Virginia Beach, towards their intended lunch destination. 

“Mama, just once, you really should try it.”

“Nope, not going to happen Lulu.”

The younger girl, Lucy or Lulu, just frowned, but continued walking alongside her mother. They were best friends, maybe something stronger than that. Blaire was just a child herself, not even nineteen when she had Lucy. They grew up together, making their bond stronger than anyone could ever really understand. 

Lucy didn’t know who her father was, and probably never would. Blaire was counting on never seeing the man again. Which seemed funny, considering they lived in a military dominated area. But she never imagined that the man would be stationed here. 

She was eighteen when she found out she was pregnant, just after graduation. There was no way she could tell the father, not when he was planning on being so much more than just the small town boy he was. She didn’t want to hold him back, she couldn’t be the reason he never saw his dreams come true. So she lied to him and broke up with him. Blaire even went as far as moving shortly after, so he would never know. 

Her own family didn’t know who fathered her beautiful little girl, though she was sure they had their ideas. She would never confirm or deny them, only changing the subject whenever they asked. It helped that she hadn’t heard from him in nearly fourteen years too.

She grew up, she moved on. Going on a few casual dates here and there, but never anything serious. It was hard to be serious with someone when she had Lulu to look after. Even now that she was old enough to be left home alone and take care of herself, it was hard. Blaire couldn’t really think about bringing any man home who wasn’t the man she gave her heart to all of those years ago. 

Because the truth was, she might have broken up with him, but she never really got her whole heart back. 

“I’m staaaaarrrrvinnnggg,” Lulu said, dramatically dragging out the word. 

“Which is why we’re going to get lunch before we keep shopping,” Blaire reminded her daughter, “C’mon, just a few more minutes.”

“I’m going to die before we get there,” Lulu whined, “Die of starvation. Wither away to nothing right in front of you.”

“God, how did you get so dramatic?” Blaire questioned, “I swear I was never this bad when I was your age.”

They rounded the corner, restaurant now in sight and Lulu let out a loud sigh and tugged her mother along faster. They were seated almost instantly, making Lucy extremely happy. They ordered appetizers and fell into a comfortable conversation about school. 

Lucy was in middle school now, which seemed almost impossible to Blaire. It was hard for her to realize that her daughter was growing into a fine young woman and was almost an adult of sorts. 

“So Liam Mackey tried to ask me out yesterday,” Lulu said, taking a bite of a mozzarella stick. 

Blaire had to keep herself from choking on her water, “Oh really? What did you say?”

She was hoping her daughter said no. She wasn’t ready to deal with dating yet. Middle school drama was one thing, but boyfriends and heartbreaks were something else entirely and Blaire might just have a heart attack if she had to navigate that part of parenting right now. 

“I told him no, obviously,” Lulu rolled her eyes, “He asked out Marlee Parks two days ago, I’m not some sloppy second choice.”

Letting out a deep breath, Blaire reached for her water again and took a large gulp, “Well…good for you for knowing your worth.”

“Liar. You’re thrilled you don’t have to deal with me having a boyfriend yet,” Lucy teased. 

“You’re right,” She sighed, “So no dating till you’re thirty, okay?”

“What about you? You’re like thirty and you aren’t going on dates.”

“Okay don’t make me ground you.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Lucy countered, sticking out her tongue.

Blaire sighed again, knowing her daughter was right. She wouldn’t ground her. Blaire wasn’t one to ground or really punish her daughter at all. Not to say that she didn’t when she had to. But she hated every minute of it. 

When their food came, Lucy wasted no time digging in and eating every bite she could. Blaire almost had to laugh. Her daughter loved food, so much it was almost comical in fact. She was like her father in that regard, the man could eat like no one else. No one except maybe his daughter. 

“We’re still going shopping, right?” She questioned. 

“Yes, we’ll go shopping after lunch,” Blaire laughed.

“Good,” Lulu smiled before taking another bite. 

“Slow down before you choke, honey.”

Lulu made a face and continued to wolf down her food. Blaire couldn’t do anything but laugh at her little girl. Her sweet daughter. It was hard for her to come to terms with the fact that soon enough she would start really asking questions about her father. 

So far she’d been able to dodge any question Lucy asked about him. Somehow, it had been easy to lie to her. But Blaire knew that time would soon be over, and she would have to tell her daughter the truth sooner or later. Which meant finding him and telling him the truth too. 

They both deserved to know. Blaire knew that. But the thought of them knowing made her chest hurt. She couldn’t imagine the look on his face when he found out, she didn’t want to imagine it really. But she knew that time was running out. 

“C’mon kiddo,” Blaire said, putting money down on the table, “Let’s get going.”

They were hand in hand again on their way out, when Blaire ran into a strong body. She stumbled back. The man in front of her reached out, catching her arms to steady her for a moment. 

“Mom, you okay?” Lucy grabbed ahold of her mom too. 

“I’m fine honey,” Blaire replied, giving her daughter a small smile. 

“Blaire?” The man questioned, eyes widening. 

His head spun, the little girl, who wasn’t so little, called her mom. Which meant if this was Blaire, she had a daughter. A teenager by the look of it. He swallowed hard. He knew those eyes, because they were his own. 

“Holy shit.”

“Mom?” Lucy questioned before looking between her mom and the man. 

She saw it then, the way her eyes matched his. How they had the same cock to their head. Lucy was a smart girl, maybe too smart for her own good. She could see it in the way her mother looked between her and the man. In the way her mom held onto her hand even tighter. Lucy couldn’t help it, she was staring into the eyes of her father, and it seemed like he didn’t quite know it himself. 

“Holy fuckin shit,” Lucy mumbled. 

“Lucielle Grace!” Blaire hissed. 

But then it was his turn, staring into the face of the girl who looked just like him, and the woman he loved more than life itself, “Holy shit.”

That made three. Mother, Father, and daughter, all stunned to be in one another’s presence at long last.

In a panic, the second she heard the man speak her name, sounding so broken and shocked, she grabbed her daughter and pulled her out of the restaurant, not stopping to look back.

He followed them of course, forgetting the lunch date he had. He would apologize to his old friend later. This was more important, this was Blaire. His Blaire. The one girl he could never get out of his head. The one that he still carried a photo of whenever he flew. Because she was his, even if she broke his heart almost fourteen years ago.

"Blaire!" He called, trying to catch up with her.

She slowed when she saw her car come into view. He would catch them there and then there would be no more running away. She licked her lips and stopped, grabbing her daughter's other hand.

"I need you to go wait in the car," She told Lulu, not looking away from her green eyes.

"Mom who is that guy?" Lucy was worried that he was some creep, here to try to hurt her mom.

Maybe he was one of the Tinder dates gone wrong. The ones that Blaire always seemed to be too quiet after she came home from them. Or maybe he was one of the good dates that Blaire blew off because of Lucy, because she was too scared to bring anyone else into their lives.

"Please Lu, go wait in the car," Blaire begged, "It's okay, I promise."

The man was getting closer, almost reaching them when Lucy finally agreed and made her way to the older 4runner parked in a far space under a tree.

Blaire only had a moment before he was on her, grabbing her shoulder to gently turn her around. She didn't force herself to look up at him, knowing she wouldn't be able to handle the look in his eyes when she did.

He was always much smarter than he liked to let on, he had to have put the pieces together. He had to know that he was just staring into the face of his daughter.

God...his daughter. Even thinking it made Blaire shiver. This was never supposed to happen. That's why she moved to Virginia, far enough away from Annapolis or Texas.

"It's you," He breathed out, holding her at arm's length, "God, Blaire, it's really you."

She keeps her eyes tightly closed, too afraid to open them. She want to look at him though, she's aching to see the man he's become. How much he's changed from the boy she once knew. But she still can't bring herself. She can't even speak.

"Say something, please," he begs her, bending down to try to catch her eye.

"Jake," She breathes out, almost like a sigh. It cuts him to the bone to hear her say his name again.

"Who was the girl?" He asks, even though he somehow already knows exactly who she was.

Her eyes open now, looking up to meet the same green eyes that her daughter has. His brows were furrowed in the exact same way, just like the way he was cocking his head to the side. They were so alike and yet they never officially met.

She swallowed the thick lump growing in her throat, "That was my daughter."

He breathes out, like he'd been kicked square in the gut, "She had my eyes."

That's all he could think to say. Because every time he blinked he kept seeing her looking up at him with the eyes that mirrored his own. The same way he had his mother's eyes, and she had her mother's eyes. There was no denying there was some semblance between the two.

"Jake-"

"Blaire," he said urgently, "She had my eyes."

"I don't-"

"How old is she?" He asks, taking a step forward.

"Thirteen," Blaire nearly winces as she says it.

He does the math in his head. It'd been nearly fourteen years since they last saw one another. She broke up with him out of the blue and moved away weeks later, never to be heard from by any of the Seresins again. Now here she is with a thirteen year old who looked just like her, aside from small little details. Like how she had freckles dotting her nose, just like Jake and his sister's had when they were younger.

"Is she mine?" He asks her, almost afraid of the answer.

"Jake, please," She begs so quietly.

"Blaire, is she mine?" He asks again.

She licks her dry lips and tried to gather the courage. This was never meant to happen. She was never supposed to see him again, and he was never supposed to know about having a child. Jake Seresin was supposed to go about his life without her tying him down with a little girl. But it seemed like fate had other ideas

"Yes."

[wishcamper]

Cassian Appreciation Week Day Six: Birthday

here's a late night submish for birthday day for @cassianappreciationweek inspired by a summer i spent in the Outer Banks and some hardcore 2017 nostalgia

You can read it here or on ao3!

Hands Down

In which Nesta avoids her life in New York, and accidentally helps Cassian avoid his birthday.

CW: brief mention of rape, addiction, and verbal abuse

The words are hushed, let's not get busted Just lay entwined here, undiscovered Safe in here from all the stupid questions "Hey, did you get some?" Man, that is so dumb Stay quiet, stay near, stay close, they can't hear So we can get some My hopes are so high that your kiss might kill me So won't you kill me, so I die happy? My heart is yours to fill or burst, to break or bury Or wear as jewelry, whichever you prefer. “Hands Down”, Dashboard Confessional

The warm blanket of the sun lay over her skin, cares drifting off with every gentle gust of the wind, gulls crying overhead instead of traffic, the smell of salt and sunscreen instead of smog.

The beach was beautiful, paradise, but mostly Nesta was just so fucking glad to be away from her life.

A Hot Girl Summer was exactly what she needed, according to her friends, at least to get the hell out of New York for the summer. There was no better way to reclaim herself than to join Emerie in her oceanside hometown, they said, to help her aging parents run the hotel they’d owned for decades on the Outer Banks. And on their days off to lounge on the sun-drenched beach drinking White Claws and talking shit and ranking the steamiest passages from their respective novels.

And, of course, checking out The Lifeguard.

They called him The Lifeguard because they didn’t know his name, but Emerie and Gwyn were too perceptive not to notice Nesta had been ogling him every chance she got. Forbidden catnip man , Gwyn sometimes called him, as he was everything Nesta denied she was attracted to even though she totally was: long hair, rough around the edges, covered in tattoos. Just admit you have a thing for men who look like they’ll ruin your life, Emerie said.

Nesta’s typical type skewed more straight-laced, finance guys and trust fund yuppies, or else the semi-starved academics who could quote Salinger but couldn’t find the clitoris. There was a comfort in knowing they’d turn out to be shitty, but it was all so fucking shallow, the idea of a couple instead of two people really into each other. In the end she got fed up, or they cheated, or some stupid argument made it clear that things were going nowhere.

It was never surprising, but the breakups always left her with a pit of self-doubt deep inside, that perhaps she was really the common denominator in all these relationships, that the treatment she got was earned.

And then there was Tomas. Her ex-fiance was different from the others, which she’d first thought was a good thing - understated, from a working-class family. Nothing electric about their dynamic, but steady, normal. He didn’t embarrass her at work events, didn’t flirt with her sisters. He would cat-sit occasionally for a friend, which she saw as a green flag. They dated for a few years without incident, and so when he proposed in front of Bethesda Fountain in Central Park, Nesta thought to herself, This is fine. 

I can make this work. I can figure out how to be happy.

Over the next year the venue was booked, dress bought, her conservative mother finally gave up on a religious ceremony. Then three months before the wedding Nesta got a DM from a girl claiming she’d slept with Tomas after meeting him at the Biergarten at The Standard. 

Nesta remembered that night vividly. Tomas had told her he wasn’t feeling well, and she’d assumed he didn’t answer her texts because he was sleeping, going so far as to send an Instacart delivery to his apartment with food and medicine.

The girl had receipts, and Nesta’s self-respect had no choice. When she’d gone to his apartment to break things off he verbally attacked her, spewing a laundry list of her worst fears. That if she’d put out more regularly, been more affectionate, a better fiance, he wouldn’t have needed to cheat on her. That what she saw as her autonomy was actually his inconvenience, and she was selfish for wanting it in the first place. Nesta remembered his face twisting with fury as if his skin was splitting open, revealing the monster who’d lived inside all along as she wondered if this was all her fault.

So she preferred to admire The Lifeguard from afar, afraid of what might emerge if she were to do something he didn’t like. Perhaps more afraid that something about her brought that side out in the men she dated, whatever flaw lay within.

They were giggling about Gwyn’s book now, a little tipsy from a few hours on the beach, the hum of a four wheeler passing by. Nesta felt the muscle between her neck and shoulder relax for the first time in months. She turned back to a juicy part in her own novel when a shadow blocked the sun, and she looked up to find The Lifeguard standing over her with a smirk on his stupid, handsome face.

“Oh it’s you! Nesta’s Life-” Gwyn said brightly, and Nesta suppressed the urge to kick her, though thankfully her friend caught herself. “-long dream is to, is for me to learn how to.. Surf? We saw you out with your friend the other day.””

Nesta would’ve covered her face in her hands if his eyes didn’t slide to her then, stealing all the breath from her fucking lungs. God, it had to be a crime to be that good-looking. Curly black hair thrown up in a bun, tattoos over his tanned chest and shoulders that would’ve looked douchey on anyone else, anyone who didn’t have the muscles for them to dip and swirl across. He had an annoyingly nice smile that made her want to be mean to him, though something about those mischievous hazel eyes made Nesta think he’d probably like it.

“That is very specific. I’d love to once you get rid of those,” he said, pointing to the cans buried in the sand beside them. “You know you can’t drink on the beach. I’m gonna have to ask you to pour those out.”

The Lifeguard smiled then, and she saw he had a dimple that made her want to chug her drink in front of him defiantly. His accent was like honey whisky. A giant red buoy was slung across his back, but he was so huge Nesta could only see the top poke over a tattooed shoulder, which annoyed her for some reason. Her voice came out harsher than she meant it to when she sat up on her elbow.

“Are you kidding? We’re not bothering anyone.”

“I know, but I really need to go bust those douchebags and they’ll give me shit if I leave y’all alone,” he said, crouching down right next to Nesta’s towel so he could whisper conspiratorially, indicating over his shoulder at a group of twenty or so frat guys who’d been at it for a while. “I’m telling you to pour it out. If it happens to fall into a cup on the way, like say the cups we have at the guard stand over there, then so be it.”

His breath smelled like cinnamon and Nesta felt her friends vibrating behind her from holding in their giggles, praying her face looked red from the sun and not her mortification.

“Fine. Thanks.”

“Thanks. And if you do ever want me to teach your.. friend how to surf, you know where to find me.” The Lifeguard had the audacity to wink at her then before standing and walking up the beach without so much as a backwards glance, Gwyn and Emerie dissolving into excited conversation the moment he was out of earshot.

“Nesta! Why didn’t you ask for his number?” Gwyn whacked Nesta on the arm, exasperated.

“Because he was reprimanding us, hardly sexy.”

“Mm, speak for yourself,” Emerie said, they all turned to watch him walk toward the rowdy group of guys, his red shorts hiding nothing.

Suddenly, The Lifeguard stilled, his body rigid and attention drawn to the shoreline. Nesta turned her head to where he was looking and saw nothing, but before she knew it a flash of red streaked by and he was racing toward the water, rescue buoy in hand, diving into the waves and paddling with strong arms toward where Nesta could now just make out a young boy’s head slipping under the water.

Activity exploded around them - the screeching of a whistle, another guard racing back to speak into a radio at the station, red light flashing atop it. People were standing and pointing, chatter sweeping down the beach and The Lifeguard had almost reached the boy who still wasn’t resurfacing, water spraying around him before he dove, the buoy a startling marker of where both were underwater now in the churning sea. Nesta felt dizzy and realized she was holding her breath, the seconds stretching into years in her mind until two heads broke the surface and all the air rushed out of her, mesmerized by the way he gently guided the child to the float and smiled .

Then he turned so his back was to the beach and began to kick toward the shore. She could see the boy nodding as if The Lifeguard were speaking to him, giving him instructions, before he tipped his head back and let himself be pulled. When they reached the surf another guard ran down to meet him, and Nesta realized an ambulance had arrived, two EMTs jumping out in preparation.

The next half hour was a whirlwind of flashing lights and higher-ups coming to file reports, gawkers and bottleneckers crowding the parking lot. Nesta saw The Lifeguard chewing out who she guessed was the kid’s father, a man so drunk he leaned against the guard station to stay upright, sunburnt with unfocused eyes.

At last the ambulance cleared the parking lot, no lights or sirens as the boy was awake and talking. Emerie said it was probably protocol to get evaluated for something called ‘dry drowning’.

“Yeah, it can kill you even hours after you get out of the water. Not worth the risk.”

The Lifeguard had come up behind them somehow and was watching the ambulance turn onto the main road. Gwyn beamed in that way she did where her face became the sun, grasping him on the forearm.

“That was really impressive. I’m so glad you were able to get to him.”

“All in the job,” he said vaguely, waving a bored hand. Nesta couldn’t help but notice it was shaking. “Let’s talk about nicer things. Are y’all working here for the summer or just visiting?”

“I grew up down in Kill Devil Hills,” Emerie said, shading her eyes to look up at him. “My parents run The Windhaven. Gwyn and Nesta are escaping New York for the summer with me.”

“You might know my friend Rhys’ family, the Nights.”

Emerie snorted. “You mean the Nights who own half of Corolla? Yeah, I know them.”

“I’m Cassian,” he said directly to Nesta then, a look in his eyes she didn’t recognize, and that feeling of wanting to be mean to him rose once more. “We’re having a party tonight if you want to come by.”

There was a shuffle in which Gwyn and Emerie somehow couldn’t find their phones, forcing Nesta to hand over hers for The Lifeguard - Cassian - to put his number in. He typed for an absurdly long time as he and Emerie continued to chat about people they both knew before handing the phone back to Nesta, turning to leave with a little salute.

“So we’re going right?” Gwyn said, bouncing up on her toes with a vigor usually reserved for karaoke night at The Brass Monkey.

“Oh absolutely,” said Emerie. “I have to see how disgustingly huge their house is.”

Nesta ignored their matching grins and looked at her phone to where this supposed mansion was, how much of a pain it would be to go. Cassian had sent a text to himself, an address for somewhere in the Four Seasons complex, and saved his number as ‘Nesta’s Lifeguard’. 

It was followed by an emoji of waves and, absurdly, a bat.

—

Cassian couldn’t believe he was sitting across from the hottest woman he’d ever seen and it was his birthday and she was at his house and oh god there were so many ways this could go wrong.

Mor went all-out for his birthday as usual, flickering lights in the magnolias, Jell-O shots and jungle juice, her signature ‘Get Everyone Laid’ playlist pouding from the outdoor speakers of the giant Night estate. It still boggled his mind sometimes how wealthy she and her cousin were, despite living in proximity to it for nearly two decades.

Cassian wasn’t in the mood for celebrating though, his body still humming with adrenaline after the close call on his shift. He’d swallowed the more colorful insults he’d wanted to hurl at the kid’s father, recognizing it was his own shit coming up, the past becoming present as his therapist would say. His image of his own deadbeat dad was rotten at the best of times, though it always festered more strongly on his birthday.

There wasn’t any use in running from the facts: his father had raped his mother, she’d given birth to him while addicted to heroin, and then he’d been in the system long enough to leave a few scars before getting a long-term placement with the Nights. They’d tried over the years to make his birthday a happy time, but it never took. And so another sad kid hated his birthday, then turned into an adult who pretended it didn’t happen. Case fucking closed.

But Mor wanted a party, and so a party they were having. And Cassian couldn’t be too annoyed with her given it was the perfect opportunity to ask The Librarian to speak to him for more than five chilly seconds.

Nesta, a name as unique and lovely as she was. Not the name he’d imagined for her when he snuck glances from the chair, though he’d never pegged her as a Brittany or a Chelsea or any else so common. In his head he started calling her the Librarian, because every day he saw her she had a new book, and every day she’d leave having finished it. God, she was so, so far out of his league.

He’d nearly choked on his beer when she and her friends walked through the back gate, drawn by the sounds of the party in full swing. Azriel clapped a knowing hand on his shoulder and pushed him forward, encouraging, as if Cassian weren’t already spearing toward her to intercept her group before Mor or Rhys tried to hijack them. They both loved to compete over women, and though Mor had the better average Rhys was the winner for repeat customers. Cassian himself had the highest count the first few weeks of summer, but he’d dropped off the ranking altogether the first time The Librarian laid down in front of him on her powder blue towel.

Cassian showed them around to buy time, the cavernous house large enough to get lost in. Her redheaded friend was fascinated by the elevator, but he saw the way her sunset sound-colored eyes lingered on the secluded porch swing, wondered if she was picturing herself curled up there with a book.

From there the evening went surprisingly well, all told, his friends giving him a wide enough berth which they likely considered a birthday gift. Once Nesta shot a few glares at them when they tried to hover nearby, eavesdropping, and Rhys winked at him over her shoulder, crossing himself for prayer and mouthing Good luck .

But Nesta seemed to like talking to him for some reason, didn’t try to drift away or lose him like women did when they weren’t interested. He even managed to be funny despite usually losing all his wits when he really liked someone, which was a blessing as it allowed him to hear her tinkling laugh above the music. A lock of her hair brushed his shoulder when she tipped her head back and he was so fucking gone, so nervous about doing something to mess this up.

As the party wound down they ended up on a couple of sun loungers pushed together by the pool. Cassian was mystified that Nesta was still here, still talking to him about New York, tide patterns, his childhood cat Devlon. There was nothing she didn’t have an opinion about, and when her smooth leg brushed his, the coconut scent of her lotion begged him to run his tongue all the way up to where her freckle-dusted skin disappeared beneath her shorts.

Cassian excused himself before he lost his head, and once back in the kitchen for a refill Rhys and Mor cornered him, demanding to know why he wasn’t halfway inside The Librarian already.

“Y’all are creepy, you know that?”

Mor’s tongue was bright blue from the Jell-O shots when she stuck it out at him, Rhys’ waving a bored hand in front of his face. “You never wait this long. You must be head over heels.”

“He is,” Azriel mumbled as he shuffled in, noise-canceling headphones slung around his neck. “He turned down that girl we met at Avalon pier yesterday.”

Cassian said nothing, only stuffed his head farther into the fridge to reach the two non-shit beers he’d stashed in the back. He could smell Mor’s cherry chapstick when she leaned down beside him, her eyes narrowed in scrutiny when he turned. 

“Oh my god, you like her!”

“We’re just talking, nothing is happening.”

They didn’t believe him, obviously, but were kind enough to only smirk after him as he went back outside to where he’d left Nesta lounging on a deck chair. 

“Follow me,” he said furtively, adding when she looked confused, “My friends are being assholes, I don’t want to subject you to that.” They had a few minutes lead time before the vultures descended, and he didn’t want his nosy housemates fucking this up.

“Assholes about what?” She twirled a lock of gold-brown hair around her finger, silver nail polish flashing in the low lights surrounding the pool. “Oh, because you want to fuck me.”

She said it like it was a test he’d already failed, and Cassian was so caught off guard by the whole thing his response came out stammering, over-cautious.

“No, no, not at all.”

Her brow furrowed, confusion flickering across her face. “You don’t?”

Just then Mor’s laugh sparkled above them as she heaved the sliding door open and stepped onto the upper deck, followed by Rhys’ voice asking, “Where the hell did Cass go?”

“He better be getting his dick sucked so he’ll stop being so grumpy.”

“A hundred bucks says the closest she gets to his balls is a swift kick.”

Cassian was grateful for the darkness that hid his blush as they crept on silent steps to the end of the dock, past where the lights could pick out their silhouettes against the midnight bay. Back at the house they could see the others playing beer pong now on the deck, Nesta’s red-headed friend - Gwen? - bouncing up and down in victory after making a shot. He buried his surprise that Az had yet to go to bed despite his 7:00am shift start, and couldn’t help but wonder if a certain pair of long, slender legs had anything to do with it.

Smirking to himself, Cassian produced the beers from his hoodie and Nesta cracked one open.

“Done policing my drinking now, are you?”

“Just doing my job, Nes. You’re lucky I didn’t bust you for reading porn in public. There are children around, you know.”

She gave a defiant sniff and sipped her beer primly, the night wind whipping her hair about her heart-shaped face. “If women enjoying their sexuality intimidates you, just say so.”

He grinned, a thrill running through him at how self-possessed she was. Most women he dated were either under- or over-impressed by him, neither one earned, but he felt like Nesta was challenging him to rise to her level, to show up unapologetically as she was.

“You’re the only one who intimidates me, sweetheart, but I get the feeling you like it that way.”

She started shivering once the wind kicked up, and he offered her the hoodie too after a while, the gray fabric swallowing her, long sleeves pooling around her wrists. She looked so fucking cute he had to concentrate hard on what she was saying, though he couldn’t avoid the dopey grin that surely split his face in half watching her wave her arms about as she described their encounter with the rowdy group after he’d finished work. Apparently the guys had tried to pick up Nesta and her friends, albeit unsuccessfully.

“They thought it was going really well. It made me a bit sad for them, actually. Are your friends upset?”

The sharp turn in topic threw him, but Nesta just stared at him in that same increasing way, demanding truth in everything. Cassian swallowed, deciding to chance just that, to tell her what only three other people at that party knew.

“They’re fine, just pissed because I’m not letting them give me alcohol poisoning for my birthday.”

“Today is your birthday?” 

“Yeah.”

“This is your birthday party, the party we’re currently at.” Nesta looked flabbergasted, one hand at her forehead, the other gripping his arm.

“Uh huh.”

She released his arm and quirked her head to the side then, eyes narrowing. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because I don’t really feel like celebrating. My birth wasn’t exactly a happy occasion.”

Her expression fell into one of understanding, and Cassian felt the rest of the truth stick in his throat, too dense and painful to dredge up now. Nesta scooted a bit closer and allowed her thigh to rest against his, her skin warm in the night air.

“Is that little boy okay?” she asked quietly, and for a terrifying moment he thought she was asking about his fucking inner child before remembering the rescue earlier.

“Yeah, he’s fine. Well, he has a negligent fucking father, but physically he’s fine.”

Cassian was surprised when she leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. He dared to pick up her hand and hold it, and when she didn’t immediately pull away he stroked the back with a thumb, tracing the bones.

“Look, my friends - they can be pushy,” he sighed. “I just want to be clear that I don’t have any expectations of you. I’m having a really good time just doing this.”

“Thanks. I’d gathered as much, but it’s nice to hear out loud. I’ve sort of sworn off men for the moment, anyway.”

Her hair was rippling behind her in ribbons and she looked so beautiful amongst the elements like this, but there was a sadness, a grief about her he’d never noticed before. As her words registered Cassian flipped her hand over and traced the lines of her palm. There was that piercing authenticity again, and it made him feel bold even as he fully expected her to shove him off the dock into the sound.

“Look, I don’t want to be presumptuous but you did come to my party. And I can’t even say it was for the free booze, because that’s the only drink you’ve had all night. Your friends have let you be all night. So if you’ve sworn off men, then why are you here?”

She didn’t answer, looking away, but he felt the pulse of chemistry between them, sharp and aching. Whatever National Geographic pheromones her body was giving off sent him into caveman brain, but even more so he wanted to pull her closer, to press his lips to the soft skin of her neck.

“Why are you here, Nes?” he repeated, squeezing at her hand until she looked back at him.

“Because I wanted to see if I could do it. Talk to a guy and have it be normal, feel nice.” Her voice was shaking, palm turning slick with sweat. “And it has. Thanks.”

They sat in silence for a while after that, listening to the waves lapping against the dock, the quiet rippling of the sound until she launched back into the story of the bros from the beach and they were off once more.

As the moon sank lower he took his phone out and shined it close to the water, pointing out the spade-shaped flounder on the bottom, their creepy, crowded eyes making Nesta shudder and draw her feet up from where they’d been dangling over the edge. Too bright to go gigging , he told her, and a blue crab scuttled by under the light, tiny claws raised with bravado.

“They say nature has an aspiration to be crab-like. Apparently evolution has made and remade crabs around five to six times,” she replied, and his heart was about to explode for wanting to kiss her. 

She was so sharp, so interesting it staggered him. Cassian knew he was right to have named her The Librarian, some freaky premonition, because she knew fucking everything about everything. He ran her through an exhaustive list of topics, her gestures getting more and more animated, smile flashing with the thrill of winning his game. Finally he discovered she knew nothing about constellations, and instead of gloating he pointed out Scorpius and Sagittarius, lining their arms up with her wrist in his grasp, drawing her pointed finger between dots in the sky.

The porch lights back at the house shut off before either thought to look at the time, and Cassian watched Nesta scroll through a few texts, finger twirling once more in her wind-tousled hair.

“Do you need a ride?” he asked, but she shook her head.

“My friends are already home, I was going to get a car.”

“Not many Ubers after 2:00. Let me take you home.”

They walked over to the ocean side and rode down the deserted beach on a pilfered four-wheeler from the guard stand. Moonlight casting everything in a silvery glow, gentle waves lapping at the shore. He told her over his shoulder about a time they’d tricked Rhys into eating a bowl of sea oats when they were younger, drawing forth once more that world-changing laugh.

As the houses grew closer together along the shore he felt her rest her head on his shoulder, and her breath tickled his neck as she yawned quietly. Everything felt very fast and very slow at the same time, some sort of delicious chaos that made him dizzy enough he had to grip the handlebars tighter to avoid tipping over. When they arrived at her house Cassian was punch-drunk and heated, so he was delighted when she accepted his offer to walk her to the door. 

He hopped the fence to unlatch the gate from the inside, didn’t miss the way her eyes roved over his arms when he secured the lock at the top once she’d passed through. They stood there for a moment under the porch lights, moths fluttering, staring as if waiting for the other to say goodnight first so as to not be responsible for ending this.

“I’m trying to think of something rude to say to make you go away, but I’m drawing a blank. I like you,” Nesta said. “I don’t know what the hell I’m doing, but I do. Like you.”

Then Cassian felt he might like his birthday after all as she leaned upward and kissed him like she meant it.

A few magical moments later she pushed off from his chest and smiled, disappearing into the house, the cool rush of AC carrying the scent of coconut out into the night. He was smiling so hard his jaw might break as he vaulted back over the fence, hopped onto the four-wheeler and drove home as fast as he dared, wind screaming in his ears, though nothing could sweep away the feel of her lips on his, the soft curve of her waist under his hand. The way he felt like he already knew her, had known her forever, and this was just the beginning of something that would change his entire fucking life.

About a mile from the house, Cassian paused to look out over the ocean, the briny tang filling his nose and lungs. Seagrass whispered along the dunes, and he saw the eyes of a ghost crab light up when he pulled out his phone, scuttling toward a thatch of seaweed where it disappeared.

Az: hey i can’t cover your afternoon on saturday, i’m taking the redhead surfing Mor: SO BABY PULL ME CLOSER IN THE BACKSEAT OF YOUR ROVER honestly get a new gimmick, the four-wheeler thing is getting not cute but if it ain’t broke yknow Rhys: Happy Birthday, I hope the prickly one is giving you a nice present. Rhys: I might have already stalked her instagram Rhys: And I also might have sent her sister a dm Rhys: Have fun Cassie 😄

He was about to put the phone back in his pocket when another notification popped up, one that made him feel like his body, his soul, his whole world was made from moonlight.

Cassian’s Librarian 📖🦀: call me later Cassian’s Librarian 📖🦀: i mean it Cassian’s Librarian 📖🦀: i know where you live

[blues824]

ive loved all your other mitsuri x whoever posts, could i have the obey me brothers with a mitsuri kanroji s/o?

In this, the brothers are kind of possessive and protective, but not downright yandere… besides Belphie.

Lucifer

He thought you were absolutely beautiful when you first arrived. Your pink and green hair along with your green eyes were absolutely gorgeous in his eyes. However, you were taking a defensive stance with your…blade? You were surrounded by demons, and you’re visibly scared. The urge to protect you just grew.

He was always very protective of you, but you still carried your whips around. The first time you actually demonstrated your strength was when Mammon stole something of yours and tried to sell it. You had an angry look on your face as you lacerated him. It wasn’t the worst pain he’s ever experienced, but Lucifer is surprised at how you did that with no hesitation.

Mans probably worships the ground you walk on, to be honest. He will always keep tabs on you whenever you go out by yourself just to make sure you are alright. He would never be able to forgive himself if you got hurt and he could’ve prevented it. If you see him around, no you don’t.

If you were to call him “darling” or “love”, he would do the same. It was the small terms of endearment that had him wrapped around your finger. Whenever you called him one of the little pet names, he would look around before his eyes met yours. It was like a language that only the two of you could speak.

Mammon

Mans honestly thought you were breathtaking. I mean that literally. When Lucifer first introduced the two of you, he forgot how to breathe for a few seconds. His heart skipped multiple beats at a time. He was a demon in love at first sight.

He takes his job as your protector very seriously. He will throw you over his shoulder and carry you out of any situation he deems dangerous. The first time you demonstrated your strength was when Levi went to attack you for winning the TSL quiz. Mammon was shocked when his younger brother was bleeding because you lacerated him.

The amount of modeling gigs you both score is… terrifying. You both go viral and have even won the title of “Devildom’s Hottest Couple” multiple different times. Mammon never wants you to do a gig by yourself because that means he wouldn’t be there to protect you. In return, he’ll turn down agencies you don’t want him to accept.

Please, for the love of everything in all the 3 Realms, call him “sweetie” or “sweetheart”. He will absolutely melt. If you call him either name, he is down on one knee for you. He is taking you out to dinner and taking you shopping right after. He will pay for it all because he loves you so much.

Leviathan

He is a simp. There’s no other way to say it. When he saw you, scared beyond belief, he immediately felt the urge to comfort and protect you. His heart was pounding against his chest when Lucifer introduced the two of you. His face was a bright pink, and he might as well have had hearts in his eyes.

He is most definitely very possessive. Everyday, he has to fight the urge to lock you up in his room and keep you all to himself. He’s happy that you willingly spend most of your time with him, but he can’t help but get insanely jealous when you give your attention to anything or anyone besides him.

He always makes sure to stock up on sakura mochi just so he can surprise you every once in a while. He loves being the cause of your smile, and he would fall from the Celestial Realm if it meant you would smile. You never judged him for anything, so he feels the need to return the favor in some way.

He always blushes so hard whenever you call him any pet names. His favorite is when you call him “baby” and coo at him like you would at an infant. He absolutely loves receiving your praise. Also, make sure to pepper his face in kisses at least 3 times a day. They’re his good luck charm and he swears they’re why he always wins his video games.

Satan

His breath faltered for a quick second when he first met you. After you were first introduced to each other, he noticed the kind look in your eyes while you were talking to him. No one has ever looked at him the way you did. You also had a soft, gentle voice. You didn’t seem scared of him, and that’s what made him grow attached.

He was protective, but he knew that you could take care of yourself. He would linger around to make sure that he would be able to step in if necessary. You showed your true strength when you were protecting Beel and Luke. It wasn’t everyday a human was able to wrap a whip around the Avatar of Pride’s neck until it was one tug away from beheading him. He was both shocked and proud.

He loved to take you out to cat café’s. He would look at the menu online to see if they served sakura mochi. That’s another thing: he always remembers everything you tell him. Even if it was just in passing, he will store it in his memory. He always surprises you with little gifts so that you can see how much he truly cares.

Being with him made you feel like you were in a romance novel. He loved to call you things like “darling” and “dearest”, and he loved it when you responded with a pet name like the ones he gave you. It reminds him of elderly couples who were as in love as they were when they first met.

Asmodeus

You looked absolutely adorable! No, don’t hide, he won’t bite… yet! He absolutely loved you from the first millisecond he laid his eyes on you. You just looked so cute, he could eat you right up! The kind look in your eyes and your shy voice just made his heart explode. You were just too much for him.

He wasn’t very protective, but he was possessive. He would get pouty whenever he saw you having fun with one of his other brothers. He would grab you by the hand and pull you back to his room, where he continued to pout until you kissed his cheek or his lips. Then he is back to his happy, normal self.

He loved to take you out shopping whenever you want or whenever you have to go run errands anyway. He loved dressing you up in a lot of cute outfits, and he loved it even more when you squealed when you liked the outfit he picked out for you. His Devilgram is just filled with pictures of the two of you.

You both were just so lovey-dovey with each other, everyone else either awed or gagged. You’re the kind of couple to order hot chocolate with whipped cream just so you could grab a dab on your finger and boop the other’s nose. Your giggles were contagious, and the two of you always erupted in laughter. Here is where he takes even more pictures of you, but he doesn’t post them. They are for his eyes only.

Beelzebub

He dropped his sandwich when he first saw you. You were just so beautiful that he couldn’t help but stare as you went around introducing yourself to everyone. He stuttered through his own name as he tried to start a conversation with you. It was then he realized that he was down bad for you.

He was most definitely very protective of you. He always had to be near you to make sure that he was safe. Even his twin brother wasn’t an exception to his ‘stay six feet away from Y/N at all times’ rule. After the incident with Belphie, he was the last one that Beel trusted to be around you.

He always hears you whenever you cheer him on at his Fangol games. You could be as quiet as a mouse and your voice is the only one he swears he hears. He only pays attention to you. If you were to dress up in a pink and green cheerleading outfit with pom-poms, he would propose to you on camera right on the field.

He loves the rare moments where he can just relax with you. He loves laying his head on your lap as you run your hands through his hair while you both snack on the sakura mochi you love so much. This big behemoth of a demon swears that he will marry you one day if you ever call him “baby” or anything like that… I simp for him…

Belphegor

When he first saw you in the attic, he had to admit that he wanted to abandon his plan so badly. You were just so innocent that he felt like total shit for using you to escape this prison of his. Surely you understand! You would forgive him… right? There was no way in his mind that you wouldn’t.

He is both protective and possessive. It’s a struggle getting out of bed each day because he has an iron grip on you, even when he’s asleep. He mumbles something about you being warm, and while that’s part of the reason why he wants you to stay, it’s not the whole story. No, he wants you all to himself. His brothers can go screw themselves for all he cares.

He doesn’t exactly like going out, but whenever you take him stargazing he can’t help but notice how the stars reflect in your eyes. He points out different constellations and you ask about each and every one of them. You were just so adorable, and he finally had enough when he pulled you into his arms and laid his head on your chest.

He loves the days where you gently wake him up by running your hands through his hair and whisper his name accompanied with the nickname “darling”. For some reason, it always makes him get up each morning. He didn’t know why either, maybe his body was telling the both of you that the two of you were soulmates?

[clare-875]

Until The End (Levi x Reader)- Chapter 7

[The Trial]

_____ A/N: Posted on Wattpad (@CLARE_875) but also decided to post here :)

Summary: "You can push me away, but I will still fight by you, and I will still follow you… until the end."

The ever-so-stoic Levi Ackerman has only ever known the terrors that living in a cruel world could bring. This all changed one fateful day when he encountered [y/n]; a girl renowned for her looks and abnormal speed. As they escape the confines of the Underground together, they soon discover that freedom doesn't come easy in a world full of Titans. As they rise through the ranks, [y/n] becomes known as "Humanity's Angel", a beacon of hope to humanity as she melts the walls Levi had built around his heart. However, she has her secrets too, and a dark past that might just threaten to pull them apart.

The storyline and characters of Attack on Titan do NOT belong to me, but all to Hajime Isayama; however, I do own this story, and all that occurs disparate to that storyline.

[Series Masterlist] [Chapter Six] <--> [Chapter Eight] _____

Warnings: Canonical Violence

You sigh, rubbing your eyes as you look at the endless pile of paper that continues to grow in front of you. It had been several days since the encounter with Eren Jaeger, and the unrest on whether to trust in him or not, whether to give him to the military or the Survey Corps, whether to kill him or let him live had been endless. Endless, like the paperwork that remained in front of you. You sigh; despite the dispute about Eren Jaeger, one truth stood as blatant as the moon that hung in the sky. We had lost many people when Wall Rose fell, and a part of being a Captain in the Survey Corps was to sign and mark the papers in front of you eternally.

You look up briefly, taking a sip of your tea, to see Levi at his desk working through the papers you both so despised. The moon shone from beyond the windows, mingling with the light of the candles. You admired the way the light danced on his pale skin and briefly flickered in the grey of his eyes. Despite the way you saw imprints of darkness hanging under his eyes, or how his face seemed more sunken under stress and exhaustion, he still looked beautiful. You quickly shake your head at that thought; what am I thinking? This is Levi. You quickly picked up your pen to continue the papers, trying to shake off the mingling thoughts in your head, but despite your constant denial, your heart had grown fond of the man in front of you.

The recent few years have taken a toll on you both. The Survey Corps was not an organisation you joined on a whim. You saw death almost daily, friends and comrades gone within seconds, making you question if they had been there at all. You had clung to each other in your grief but also in your trust. The trust that despite all our losses, we would still have each other to rely on, that we would find our way back to the other. However, over the years, mere friendship wouldn't be what you would want to call the relationship between you and Levi. You had found yourself yearning for more. Despite his cold exterior, you would notice the small things he would do for you. He brought you his cups of tea, shared his space with you as he did now, gave you smiles that lingered, worried for you, protected you, and kept you close. You quickly turn down your churning thoughts. Levi saw you as family; he saw you as someone he could trust and someone to rely on, and you would continue to deny the intrusive thoughts in your head for as long as that meant he would stay by your side. If only your heart would diminish the warmth that it always found in his proximity.

Levi looked up, noticing that your pen had yet again stopped its movements. You seemed deep in thought as he saw your eyes flicker in conflict, seeming to come to one resolution before frowning as your internal debate continued. After hearing you sigh for the umpteenth time and your movements faltering, Levi couldn't help but become annoyed at your debate, denying that it was worry he was feeling, seeing your usually-composed-self become so uncertain. "Oi," he snapped, making you jump at the sudden sound before realising it was just Levi. His eyes softened briefly, not meaning to snap so suddenly, and he sighed, mimicking the noise you had been making for the past few minutes. "You should take a break," he spoke softer than he had before. You felt warmth rush to your cheeks as you realised, he had been observing your internal turmoil.

Despite yourself, you gave him a soft smile, seeing his concern, "I'm fine, Levi. Besides, this is my last pile," you looked at him as he seemed ready to make a remark back at you, "It's you that should be taking a break anyway, Eren's trial is tomorrow." Levi rolled his eyes at that. "I can handle lack of sleep," he said, and it was true. Despite having issues sleeping yourself, you slept much better than the man in front of you. "You, on the other hand, can't." He got up walking over to the couch that stood in front of his desk, the one you had been working on. As Captains, you had the privilege of having your own rooms. However, Levi would often let you sit with him, and he would never admit it, but your presence made the endless paperwork almost enjoyable to him.

Despite your continuous denial whilst Levi tried to snatch your paperwork from you, it was past midnight, and your speed had diminished with the sun. You were exhausted, and Levi had taken that opportunity to take your paperwork and tell you to go to bed. You pouted slightly at his remark, you didn't know why but the evening sky made you feel more vulnerable and Levi was used to you acting more childishly during the evening hours as your more collected self vanished in the night. You let out a deep breath and decided you were too tired to argue with him right now and let him have a win this time.

"Fine," you muttered, "you win this time, but next time," you looked to Levi as he looked at you, slightly amused. "Next time, I'm doing your paperwork too," you finished while Levi rolled his eyes again, telling you to go to bed. You didn't know what came over you the next few seconds, but between your raging thoughts, your exhaustion, your grief and paperwork, you found yourself reaching out absent-mindedly and moving a strand of Levi's raven hair out of his face. "Don't work too hard," you whispered, knowing already of the plan you had discussed with Levi and Erwin that would take place the following day.

Levi felt himself freeze at your affection. He had been used to brief touches and concerned words, but the way your eyes were full of worry just for him made him stop at the sight. A familiar feeling rose in the depths of his chest despite him still dismissing that in his thoughts. He quickly composed himself, not that you noticed his break of character as you felt your exhaustion slowly consuming your thoughts. "If you don't hurry and go to bed, you're gonna look real shitty tomorrow," Levi said, causing you to roll your own eyes. "I'm going, I'm going," you muttered before turning around and quickly going out his door, leaving Levi with your paperwork and a soft smile on his face.

.....

The sun had risen fully, light seeping in through the windows of the courtroom as you found yourself by Levi's side, who stood in between you and Erwin. Despite him allowing you to go to sleep earlier as he had taken care of your papers, you had dreamt yet again of the woman on the boat, and of the green expanse of terrain you now knew had to be what you encountered every time you left the walls. It had been years, and you had searched for answers, but it was hard seeing the lack of access you had to answers from the past. The only person who knew of your dreams was Levi. He had known since you were young, but he had always patted you on the head and told you not to worry, that it was just a "shitty dream", and that you would likely find answers when you least expected them. I sure hope so, you think to yourself as you stifled a yawn; you could never really go back to sleep after those dreams.

You suddenly looked over as the door burst open and saw briefly that Hange and Miche were the ones who had let Eren into the room, his eyes seeming to adjust to the bright lights of the courtroom. You could hear Hange say something to Eren before slamming the doors shut, and a brief, tense silence took over. Two men then forced him forward before telling him to kneel as one man locked Eren's chained hands under a metal bar. Mutterings started to rise throughout the courtroom, but you looked straight ahead despite the palpable suspense. You hear the creak of a door and the shuffle of seats as Commander-in-Chief Darius Zackly enters the forefront of the room.

"Well then, let us begin." He pauses while looking at a piece of paper in his grasp, "Eren Jaeger, yes?" Darius Zackly looks over his glasses as he stares at the emerald-eyed boy in front of him. "You are a soldier, sworn to sacrifice your life for the public good. Is that correct?" Eren looks up and answers slowly, "Yes, sir." He then continues to explain why Eren is here: "The final decision rests entirely in my hands. Your fate will be decided here." As you expected, concealing Eren's existence is no longer possible, and the trial today would be one that decided which force would hold custody over him. The military police or the Survey Corps.

Nile Dawk, the Commander of the Military Police, is then called forward to provide their proposal. The proposal that Eren should be eliminated immediately. That in favour of preventing a spark of civil war, Eren die for humanity's sake after leaving behind all the information he can provide. "There is no need for that!" the shout of Priest Nick, a Wallist, part of a religious faction believing the walls to be holy, starts to berate the idea, claiming he should die on the spot for deceiving the walls. Despite them not having influence much in our society, the past five years have given them power, what with the abandonment of Wall Maria. Order is called before the Survey Corps is called to provide their proposal.

Erwin then speaks, "I, 13th Commander of the Survey Corps, Erwin Smith, will present my proposal." He then turns his head to Eren, continuing, "We would welcome Eren as an official member of our forces and use his power to retake Wall Maria." He then looks forward, "That is all." Silence takes over. Straight to the point, as usual. Despite Darius questioning his brief proposal, Erwin keeps to the proposal he has given. Darius then continues to ask where the mission will take place, asking Pixis if the wall to Trost has been sealed completely, to which he replies affirmatively. "We would like to set out from Karanes, in the east. From there, we will proceed to Shiganshina. We will determine the route as we go." Erwin speaks up as the crowd looks at him.

"Wait a minute!" One of the merchants next to Priest Nick starts to shout, claiming that we should seal all the wall gates once and for all as the colossal Titan only destroys the gates. This causes an argument that takes over the courtroom between the merchant and members of the Survey Corps. His delusion that sealing the gates would protect everyone when he is truly trying to protect himself and his money starts to seep its way through his words, giving you a headache from the merchant's ignorance. "You talk a lot, pig," you glance slightly to your side and see that Levi was the one who had spoken. People quiet down and stare, surprised to see the usually silent Humanity's Strongest Soldier speak up. "Where is your proof that the Titans will wait while we seal the gate? The "we" that you wish to protect are your "friends" who help line your pockets. The people who starve because there isn't enough land to sow don't even figure into the thoughts of you pigs."

The merchant stops at Levi's words but continues with his argument, when Priest Nick joins in, calling the merchant a traitor for wishing to alter the walls. The two continue into the argument, shouting their ideologies despite the otherwise silence of the room, voices bouncing off the echoing walls, until finally, Darius asks for silence. He then looks to Eren as he wishes to confirm something, "Can you continue to serve as a soldier using your Titan powers to benefit humanity?" Eren looks up with a determined stare, "yes, I can!" Despite his answer, Darius looks to a report from the defence saying that, "immediately after turning into a Titan, he swung his fist at Mikasa Ackerman." Eren's eyes turn sharply to Mikasa as you look at the raven-haired girl who answers when she is called.

"Is it true that, as a Titan, Eren Jaeger attacked you?" A brief silence takes over before she finally replies, albeit hesitantly, "Yes, it's true." You look at Eren's horrified face, confirming your suspicions that he had not been aware that he had lost control. Murmurs of distress started to arise again before Mikasa continued, "But on two previous occasions, Eren saved my life in his Titan form." Despite her argument, Nile Dawk speaks of Mikasa's bias as she was taken in by the Jaeger family at a young age. "Our investigation has also revealed a surprising fact about the underlying events. At age nine, Eren Jaeger and Mikasa Ackerman killed three robbers who tried to kidnap her." He then asks whether there is a right to trust humanity's fate, resources and lives with Eren.

Murmuring starts to turn into shouts of disagreement as the courtroom starts to get out of control again. Now, people started to target not only Eren but also Mikasa, accusations ringing through the room and growing as Eren tried to rebut their shouts. The tension starts to rise with the noise as Mikasa and Eren's names are thrown across the room before you see Eren's wide gaze snap. "No!" Eren lurches forward with his scream as his chains rattle against the weight of metal. Silence takes over as people now look at him with fear written across their eyes. "I mean, you're wrong... You're simply coming up with theories that fit whatever suits you to think," Eren's voice slightly shakes as he looks to the floor in front of him. "Besides, none of you," Eren then looks to the Military Police, "None of you... you've never even seen a Titan! What are you so afraid of?" You see Eren's face grow angry as you notice his eyes shine with vengeance, along with Levi's swift absence beside you.

"What is the point if those with the means and power do not fight?" If you're afraid to fight for survival, then help me. You... cowards!" Voices started to rise swiftly in the room at Eren's words before he started to yank against his chains again at all the noise. "Just shut up and bet everything you have on me!" Silence is met by tension as the Military police aim their weapons at Eren's seeming lack of control, but it is unnecessary as you see the end of Levi's harsh kick against Eren's face, a tooth falling out of his mouth. Clangs of metal against metal and the sound of Eren's body being pulled and kicked and punched move across the room. You look to Levi as his grey eyes spark dangerously, but he continues despite the silent looks of distress in the room and Mikasa's deadly form held back somehow by Armin.

Blood now seeps onto Eren's clothes as Levi holds him under his boot. "This is a personal opinion. But I believe pain to be the best way to train someone." Levi's stare is sharp, "what you need is to be trained like a dog, not a man." A shiver runs down your spine despite knowing of the plan, silently thankful for Levi's harsh words never to have been directed at you. "It's easier to kick you while you're kneeling, too." You can't help but inwardly grimace at his violence, though you keep on a neutral face as he continues to kick Eren's already beaten form. Even in the Underground, you had never seen his movements so merciless, at least to anyone but the Titans. "Wait, Levi," Levi turns to Nile, "what is it," he says, expression bored and foot still in Eren's face. "That's dangerous; what if he gets angry and turns into a Titan?" he continues to kick Eren as he replies, "What are you saying?" Bringing Eren's face up to his eye level by his hair, he continues, "Aren't you going to dissect him?"

"When he turned into a Titan last time, he killed twenty other Titans before collapsing. If he is an enemy, his intelligence makes him a more formidable foe. Still no match for me, of course. But what will you do? Anyone persecuting him should also consider that fact." The quiet in the room continues with those around the courtroom now with unsettling emotions on their faces at Levi's blunt words. "Do you really think you can kill him?" Erwin then raises his hand, "Sir, I have a proposal." Darius then looks to Erwin, "The details of Eren's Titan power remain uncertain, making it dangerous. Thus, I propose to have Captain Levi take responsibility for Eren's control, and with Captain [y/n] and their squad, embark on an expedition outside the walls." He continues, "Based on the expedition's results, I'd like you to judge whether Eren can control his Titan power."

Darius looks briefly at Erwin and you before turning to Levi, "Control Eren? Can you do it, Levi?" Levi, still looking at Eren, replies, "I'm certain I can kill him; the problem is I doubt I can do any less." Darius then closes his eyes, seeming to have come to a decision.

.....

You sighed; you were with Hange as they tried to get Eren cleaned up amongst their continuous fawning over the poor boy. "Are you alright, Eren? Does it hurt?" You ask as Hange dabs at a cut across his face. Eren looks up, his eyes wide with awe and cheeks turning slightly pink. "Just a bit," he says before his eyes wander behind you and suddenly stiffens, eyes finding the floor. You meet his line of sight to see that Levi leant against the wall, projecting a sudden dangerous aura. You sighed, giving Levi a pointed stare, to which he looked to the side, pretending to ignore you.  You roll your eyes before sitting next to Eren on the couch.

"I'm sorry about all that," you say and give Eren a kind smile. He looked up slightly though still rigid, "but the pain you endured was all for our plan." Erwin nodded as he agreed, "Yes, you allowed me to play my cards at the right moment," walking to Eren, he leaned down and reached out a hand, "You have my respect. Eren, I look forward to working with you." Eren looks up with brief surprise before shaking his hand. "Yes, sir, thank you."

You hear footsteps and look up to see that Levi has started walking towards you, sitting in the space between you and Eren. He put a leg over the other and forcibly put one hand on the back of the couch behind Eren. "Hey, Eren..." You notice the boy's eyes flicker subtly between you and Levi before meeting Levi's deadpan stare. "Yes, sir," he replied hastily, "do you resent me?" Eren's form moves rigidly with nerves as he replies, "N-no," he then seems to relax a bit and looks to the ground in front of him, "I understand why it was necessary." Levi leans back on the couch, "that's good."

You think back at the interaction at the trial and huff slightly, "You still took it a bit far, I mean didn't you lose a tooth Eren?" Before he could reply, Hange had started shuffling around before bringing out a handkerchief with a tooth. "Yeah, it's right here," they say nonchalantly as you feel yourself sweatdrop. "Don't pick that up... it's creepy," Levi says with a disturbed look on his face, but Hange doesn't seem the least bit concerned. "Even this is an important sample." Levi looks to Eren and the injuries that now adorn his face, "That's still better than getting dissected by people like Hange, right?" Eren looks at the tooth, slight emotion betraying his eyes, "I'm not like them..." you hear Hange say, and you laugh slightly. "Hey, Eren. Let me see inside your mouth," the boy, seemingly increasingly uncomfortable at their proximity, surprisingly does what Hange says.

Hange then lets out a noise of surprise, and we all turn to see that they are still looking into Eren's mouth, "the tooth... it's already grown back." 

_____

[Chapter Six] <--> [Chapter Eight]

[princess-of-thebes-1995]

Clumsy Brat part 2

Your beautiful doe eyes were bigger than usual as you stared down at the wounded soldier in shock. Tears of self loathing leaked out of your orbs and your breaths were ragged. 

You killed someone!

Desperately, you pressed your ear against his muscular chest and was happy to hear his strong heart beats.

There was still hope for him. You used all your strength to try to at least drag him to the nearest emergency room. But damn! He was like a war machine. Made of steel. He didn't even bulge. 

You can't scream for help. You might get into trouble. But, you cannot just leave him here!

You turned him to the side so he would not choke on his own blood still pouring from his nostril holes. 

The poor man. You were always getting into trouble especially when alone. Now you have done it. 

You were so lazy to clean the cabinets properly that you were throwing the items in to the trash bin by tossing them over your shoulder. 

You felt like throwing up. You luckily saw it. The fire alarm. You pulled it down and immediately, the alarm went off and the sprinklers started. 

Then you immediately went inside the labs to hide from the commotion. The Staff came out scared and they saw him on the floor. Screams and yells were heard as few men carried the injured one to the emergency room.

You sighed in relief. Then use the secret doors of the lab to walk to your room.

Without hesitation, you stripped out of your wet clothes and burned them when you saw the blood stains.

Most likely the injured man is taken care of and no one will suspect a thing. 

You managed to grab the jar of chutney and washed the blood before throwing it away in the trash in your room. 

No evidence. You think.

It was hard to sleep those nights. Guilt was eating you. 

From what you heard. The man was alive and had to get nose surgery. That was a relief. 

To your horror. He was not an ordinary Marine. He was the Head of Security! 

You never saw him but heard of Colonel Quaritch. 

Holy shit. 

Of all people you not only injured but almost killed. 

His job was to protect the staff on the base. 

He couldn't even protect himself from you. 

Damn you and your clumsiness. 

“There is an investigation going.” Your friend Doctor Augustine said. She mentioned how the Colonel was found in the hallways of the science department. And the suspect who attacked him was one of them. 

If no one steps in then the whole department will be shut down and all the members will be fired and sent back to Earth. 

Grace noticed you. Before she could ask. You stood up. 

It's not right to jeopardize the career of your friends and the peace between the Navi and RDA. 

Gulping you walked down the hallways. You asked Trudy where the office of the Colonel was. She gave you a weird look and led you. 

Luckily, she was not nosy and didn't ask. 

People were staring as you followed your pilot friend. Science majors and soldiers hated one another. Why would you come to their territory?

You were just outside the door of the Colonel's office. You gently knocked on the door. You heard a weird response. You guess you were allowed to come. 

You slowly opened the door. There sat the Muscular blonde man you saw in the hallways. His nose looked as if nothing happened. You assumed he healed quickly. 

No matter. He looked up from his paperwork and blinked In surprise when he saw you. 

Before he could say anything you blurted out. “I am the one who almost killed you the other night. I am sorry.”

The handsome blonde just stared at you without saying anything then snickered in amusement. He never expected in a million years you would make the first move and your blunt confession to be the first thing you said to him. 

Life is mysterious and unexpecting. 

You were cute. Socially awkward. 

Shaking his head he continued his mocking grin. 

“How nice of you to admit your grave mistake.” He stood up from his office chair. You gulped. 

“It was an accident. Please forgive me.”

He stood In Front of you. His tall height looking over you. 

 

Nodding, he studied your lovely face. You grabbed your chin to make you look up at him. You flinched. 

He found that amusing and cute. “How come you are apologizing to me now and not before?”

You were confused. You told him about the investigation. 

He raised a brow and his lips curled up. He let go of your chin. “How nice of you to fall for that rumor.”

Your eyes widened. You cursed yourself. Damn it. You turned yourself in for nothing. You could have got away with it. You and your stupidity!

The Colonel watched you and kept his cold look. Inside, he was laughing. He knew you regretted your admission.

He snapped his fingers and gestured to make you sit on the chair In Front of his desk. 

 

Obediently you did. 

Now what?

The Military leader sat back down and titled his head at you. Drinking you in. “You know…” He mused as he gestured to his badges of honor as a soldier that decorated the walls. “Before I went to the damn bootcamp I was in military school.”

You kindly listened. 

“I was always first place or tied with another professional in kickboxing, Track and if I had extra time, Greco Roman wrestling.” Quaritch smiled at the thought of his childhood. 

“No one ever hurt me like you did.” His expression hardened. Uh oh. You now felt scared

 Your chest heaved and his beautiful blue eyes noticed your perky breasts.

He kept his head in the game. Not to be swayed by your cute face. Your looks won't get you out of punishment. Again. 

“I would have preferred a strong man or a group to attack me.” He hissed in annoyance. “A fuckin' science puke scrawny and pathetic not only damaged me but single handedly almost ended my life.”

You felt tears come out. You are in big trouble. You missed dad even more. 

“You shamed me. I have always hated those scientists and you didn't even try to knock me out.” The Colonel was breathing like a dragon. 

He slammed his fist on the table causing you to flinch. “What must I do with you? If I did die, the lives of the staff would have also been gone if I weren't around to protect them. You should be held responsible for them too.”

You clutched your face. He was right. If you did kill the head of security, his men would have no leader and you almost single handedly destroyed the system of the base. 

“I am sorry, Colonel.” You squeaked. “It was an accident. I didn't mean to.”

A vein was visible on his tanned face. “Don't fuckin' remind me!” He snarled. You accidentally killed him. His ego as a man was destroyed. He was jealous of you. You disgraced him. Many enemies tried to kill him. It would have been an honorable death. 

A fuckin' jar of chutney almost killed him. He would rather die by a thanator or a blue monkey. 

You told him about your trillionaire father and politician uncle back on Earth. You told him to name his price. You even offered that you will resign and go back to Earth. 

The Colonel leaned in. “I know your family. I knew all about you before we met today. I have more money already. I don't know what to do with it.”

He smiled sweetly to your surprise. “I should thank you. Now I know what to spend my money on.” He stood up and kneeled In Front of you. He thumbed your bottom lip. 

Oh, shit. You had a bad feeling what he wanted in mind …

“I don't want you to leave for Earth.” He whispered in your ear.

He grabbed your shoulder. Your breath became more loud. “Be my pretty girl. I will drop all charges.” 

“I don't even know you like that.”

Wrong move. The Colonel's eyes changed from love to anger. He slapped you across the face hard. You clutched your wounded cheek. But the Colonel grabbed your chin to make you look at him.

“You're mocking your superior again!?”

You looked confused. What have you done to insult him?

“I tried to get your attention since I saw you eight months and twelve days ago. You never even knew I  existed! The day we finally met. And you embarrassed me by ruining my reputation to the base. You don't know me but I have been knowing you. Don't rub it in.”

You asked him to give you time to think. This was life changing.

The Colonel clenched his jaw. "You didn't give me time to think when you threw that heavy jar against my nose. You owe me your life since you almost took mine."

You lowered your face and quietly sobbed. 

The Colonel sighed pity. He was harsh on you and shouldn't be so mean. He admitted it wasn't really your fault. You were well mannered. Your father raised you right. He can tell you were unlucky by your clumsiness and naivety.

He ran his fingers through your long soft hair. “I am sorry, kitten. Just stick with me. Then I'll forgive and forget what happened.”

You looked up at him with glossy eyes. Then nodded in submission. 

Quaritch smiled. He called you a good girl. He kissed the back of your delicate and soft hand. 

The Corporal used his phone to give orders to some female soldiers to go to your room and carry your items to his room.

You are to sleep in a stranger's room.

As expected, the Colonel “touched” you the first night you moved into your now new room you shared with him. 

Fuck. Your body ached and burned. You woke up pained. The Colonel was wearing a bath towel as he came out of the shower when you finally opened your lovely eyes. 

He smiled and bid you a good morning then called you his kitten. 

 You saw something strange on your piano finger of your left hand. 

“What's this?”

He raised a brow. “It's what it looks like, stupid.” 

An antique gold ring with amethyst stone and what appeared to be either opal or emerald. Maybe both. Worth at least nine thousand dollars.

“I don't understand.” You breathed. 

He smirked wickedly. “I told you are to be mine inside and outside the bedroom.”

No.

Quaritch licked his lips. “You're stuck with me forever, doll. I am a man of my word.”

You didn't care if you were being rude. You hid your face and cried. Engaged to a man you just met. Many things were happening all at once. You almost murdered someone, you had sex and lost your virginity and now was to be his wife. 

You regretted coming to Pandora and away from your father's protection. 

The Colonel seems to have read your mind. “tell me what kind of dowry I should buy to impress my father in law?"

He wasn't teasing. His seriousness made it much worse for you.

Who will save you now?

"Princess, what's wrong?" He held you to his muscular chest as he sat next to you. You told him you wanted your father.

"Are you blind? I'm right here."

[officialdaydreamer00]

Well supposing that sending all the emojis might be too much... (after all, I don't recall hearing much about how any of your ocs get along with canon cast) I'll send two asks, this first one being for Ophelia.

How does Ophelia get along with her fellow doormmates: 👑 Vil, 🍎 Epel, and 🏹 Rook?

She sings at Monstro Lounge, right? So how does she get along with the Octatrio: 🦑 Azul, 🦐Floyd, and 🍄Jade?

As for a few somewhat random extras, how about: ♦️ Cater, 🐾 Ruggie, and 🌟 Kalim?

one post a day lmao, but long response ehe :'D

[👑🏹🍎]

ophelia respects vil as her dorm leader and overall a good upperclassman. he helps her with a lot of things a merfolk like her didn't know much about and is always so patient when she doesn't understand something. vil sometimes treats her like a dress up doll, but it's only after he found out that she enjoys dressing up, and with her permission. so to ophelia, vil is like a confident older brother who she strives to become one day.

rook is someone ophelia sometimes doesn't understand. he's hard to read, he's eccentric, he sees beauty in everything. though in her defense, she doesn't talk to rook often, despite being a fellow dormmate and seeing him every day. however, ophelia can somewhat see his view of the world, she was just like him when she first came up to the human world after all. rook is incredibly patient with her, often watching her performances when he isn't on vice dorm leader's duties. perhaps ophelia could never fully understand rook, but she could respect and cherish the man for who he is.

epel, on the other hand, she never actually talks to him. sure, she saw him around with vil, and in the vdc, but she never talked to him officially. ophelia finds the underclassman pretty, as she does with everyone else in the dorm, but that isn't exactly enough for her to approach him. ophelia has nothing else to say about epel.

[🦑🦐🍄]

the octavinelle trio are childhood acquaintences of hers whom she didn't expect to see above shores.

azul, of course, almost had a heart attack seeing her standing in front of the mirror, though slightly disappointed that she was put in pomefiore instead of octavinelle. though as soon as he acquired the dorm leader role and opened mostro lounge, he swiftly approached her and offered her the stage, knowing how much she loved to sing. a simple partnership with mutual benefits, that's all there is to it. or is it?

jade finds it amusing how he saw her again after a while. like rook, he often watches her performance while doing his work around the lounge, though with a different eye than rook's beauty appreciating ones. floyd, on the other hand, is much more physically and vocally expressive compared to his twin. he almost squeezed the bones out of her on first meeting, had it not for azul stopping him.

the two of them often teases ophelia about the obvious height difference, which usually ends up with floyd carrying her like a sack of potato. the three have a much more playful dynamic than that with azul, but perhaps it's because they found her amusing, or is it something else entirely?

[i'm not doing the other three because she barely ever sees them, so she doesn't have a good opinion on them lmao]